Kowalski stepped forward into the apartment, one arm wrapped firmly around Fraser's neck, the other hand discarding the Chinese on the countertop just inside the door. The paper bag barely landed on the smooth surface. Ray jerked to the side, momentarily breaking the kiss to shove it further onto the counter before it fell. He took a step back, pulling Fraser with him and kicked the door shut with his right foot. Ray twisted his fingers in Fraser's hair and pulled his partner closer. Their lips met again and Ray deepened the kiss while wrapping his free arm around the other side of Fraser's neck completely encircling him. He pushed him backwards, pressing him securely against the wall.

Fraser still had the phone pressed against his ear. Ray couldn't help but smile at the bewildered expression still on his partner's face. He had definitely succeeded in surprising him. Score one for the Chicago flat foot. He untangled his fingers from the back of Fraser's head, took the phone and tossed it next to the bag of take-out. He ghosted his thumbs across Fraser's cheeks while pressing himself closer.

"Ray…" Fraser began but was cut off by Ray attaching himself to his lips.

"Hmm?" Ray murmured against his mouth.

Fraser pulled back, thumping his head against the wall before breaking the connection. "What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to bring his breathing back under control.

"I forgot my pillow," he replied with a sly smirk. "Actually, I went for a drive to get out of that nasty apartment they dumped me in and ended up here. And…" Ray paused and met Fraser's blue eyes, "I wanted to see you." Ray nuzzled Fraser's neck. "God it feels so good to be able to touch you." Ray's hands left Fraser's face and smoothed over his shoulder muscles. "It seems like it's been forever since I've been able to lay my hands on you." Ray tugged at Fraser's shirt tucked into his jeans, working it loose enough to slide his hands up his partner's torso.

"It's only been five days…" Fraser's words caught in his throat when one of Ray's hands descended on his groin, cupping him firmly through the thick denim. "But who's counting?" He finally got with the program and spun Ray around, pinning him to the wall instead. Where he found the strength, he wasn't sure. A split second ago, his body was completely exhausted, ready for bed. Ready for the end of everything. Now, somehow the arrival of Ray, the sensual touches from his lover's magic fingers had rejuvenated his tired body, renewed his weary mind. Well, renewed it enough to think of getting Ray naked and in bed. He was sure he could muster up the energy for that.

Ray pushed off the wall and twisted Fraser in the direction of their bedroom. Five days had been far too long for him.

"What are you thinking?" Ray asked quietly as he drew imaginary patterns on Fraser's bare chest.

Fraser grabbed Ray's hand, stilling it long enough to pull it to his face to examine it. "What's wrong with your hands?"

"What do you mean?" Ray pulled his hand free and examined it himself.

"They're rough. What have you been doing to them?"

"It's that stupid job. It tears your hands up. You should see the hands of the guy training me. Between callouses and wire cuts, I'm surprised I have any skin left on my fingers. And they freaking hurt like hell. I can barely hold onto anything they are so sore. Welsh didn't tell me I was going to get banged up doing this job."

Fraser cringed as he took Ray's injured hands into his own and started rubbing them.

Ray winced at the discomfort but appreciated the gesture from his partner. "Hey, you still have any of that pregnant moose-gut concoction of yours?"

"Yes, it's in the bathroom drawer. That will help with the cuts but not the sore muscles."

Ray retracted his hands and rubbed them together himself in an attempt to soothe the sore muscles and joints. "I'm not sure I could do that job everyday. It's brutal on your body."

"You're just not used to it yet. Every new job takes some getting used to. It's physical."

"No kidding," Ray stated with a slightly sarcastic tone. "Leave it to you to find the silver lining. I'm using muscles I didn't even know I had. And that shit is heavy. Just an empty reel alone weighs 35 pounds. Add thirty-six thousand feet of wire to it and you're looking at a hundred fifty pounds easy that you have to roll across the floor fifty times a day." Ray sighed and dropped his head back into his pillow before continuing. He was exhausted just thinking about having to go back and do it all over again. This job couldn't end quick enough. "And that doesn't count the big reels of cabled wire they make. Those weigh over five hundred pounds."

Fraser leaned over and kissed him on the forehead before crawling out of bed.

"Hey, where you going?"

"I'm going to get some of that salve for your hands."

Ray scooted up the bed and re-examined his hands. They were difficult to see in the dark room, so he flipped on the bedside lamp. He frowned when he looked at his hands closely. The cuts and abrasions were red and painful. "They're pretty bad, aren't they?"

Fraser returned with the salve and a q-tip to apply it. "If you apply it now and let it work while you're sleeping, they will feel much better in the morning."

"But it stinks," Ray whined and made a face.

"Then don't use it," Fraser snapped as he tossed it into Ray's lap. When he saw Ray's face fall, he was immediately sorry for the outburst. "I'm sorry."

Ray shook his head. "No, it's okay. I'm the one complaining about them hurting." He held up the container. "Thanks." He twisted off the cap and began applying the ointment as Fraser crawled into the other side of the bed. "You still gonna want to sleep next to me even if I have this smelly stuff on my hands?"

Fraser let out a small laugh. Ray's question broke up the building tension. "Of course. It doesn't smell that bad." He patted the empty space beside him as an invitation for Ray to scoot closer. "I'm sorry. The last few days I just can't seem to unwind." Ray flipped off the lamp and slid over to Fraser's side of the bed. He snuggled close and leaned his head against Fraser's shoulder. Fraser closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. He worked his fingers into Ray's hair and started to toy with the blond spikes.

"You've been pretty quiet tonight," Ray broke the silence. "What's going on? I know you don't want to hear it, but I'm worried about you, Ben."

Fraser blew out a long breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "You shouldn't be here, Ray. You could jeopardize your assignment."

"You can't jeopardize anything if they won't let you come in and work on your days off." Ray let out his own frustrated sigh. "Look, I didn't want to spend any more time in that nasty apartment then I had to. It's disgusting. Besides, I can't make any progress on the case unless I can get in the building and watch people and I can't just walk in the door and snoop around. They have those key card things that you have to use to get in and out. It's kinda freaky actually, being locked in the building. So, since they won't let me in on scheduled days off, I thought I would surprise you and come home for a day."

"Won't they be suspicious that you're not around?"

"Who? Nobody knows me. Nobody knows where I'm staying. As far as they know, I'm just some guy looking to make a buck."

"I'm sorry." Fraser rolled to his side and planted a kiss to Ray's lips. "I'm glad you're here."

"What's going on with you?" Ray asked as he nestled his head further into the crook of Fraser's arm and began tracing the muscles on Fraser's chest again. "I've never known you to be this…" Ray paused as he searched his brain for the right word.

"Distracted?" Fraser offered.

"Well, yeah."

"There's a lot going on around here." Fraser pulled his arm from under Ray's head and scooted back up against the headboard, pulling the sheets with him. "Someone tried to burn down the Consulate, something's wrong with Diefenbaker, Jimmy…"

"The Consulate was arson?"

"From what I understand, yes. But Inspector Thatcher sent me home 'to pull myself together' before I could learn any details." Fraser raked his fingers through his hair. "I can't believe I forgot to call her. What is wrong with me, Ray?"

"You've got a lot on your plate right now." Ray's voice was unconcerned but his forehead was creased in worry.

"That's no excuse. I've managed just fine in the past when things have been chaotic. I just can't seem to get my feet under me."

"Maybe you should take some time off," Ray suggested. "Get away for a while, you know, maybe just until I get back home."

"I can't take time off now. The Consulate is a disaster." Fraser waved a hand in the direction of the living room. "Did you miss the mess when you walked in?"

"I was kind of distracted when I walked in." Ray grinned wide in the dark and drew imaginary lines around the muscles of Fraser's chest.

"All of our files are in boxes in the living room."

"Yeah, but thanks to you, it's an organized mess. Ben, now is the perfect time. You've got so many unused vacation days piled up, why don't you use them? Let the Ice Queen sort through the mess for a change."

"I don't want to use my vacation days on time away by myself. I'd prefer to use them to spend some time alone with you. Besides, as much as I would love to run away from everything, I just can't."

Ray twirled his thumbs around one another. He was worried about Fraser and he didn't want to sound like a nagging mother hen, but something was off with the man. "What did your doctor say?"

Fraser folded his arms across his chest defensively. "He's running tests on my blood work."

"What about Dief? Any news on him?"

"No. I went to see him but the vet wouldn't let me bring him home just yet." Fraser tried to stifle a yawn, but it still escaped. "I'm sorry. I haven't gotten much sleep."

Ray leaned to the side and kissed Ben softly on the lips. "It's okay. We'll catch each other up in the morning." He slid down under the covers and pulled the pillow in place under his head. Fraser followed Ray's lead and did the same, hooking his leg over Ray's. Ray pushed up on an elbow and adjusted his pillow, then laid back down. He sat up again and fluffed the pillow before flipping it over and repeating the gesture. He laid back down and frowned.

"What's wrong?" Fraser asked. Usually when Ray's head hit the pillow, he was out like a light within moments.

"Did you do something to my pillow?" Ray questioned as he sat up again and flipped the pillow over.

"No." Fraser replied confused. Then he let out a small chuckle and smiled sheepishly. "Actually, yes. I'm sorry." He sat up and handed Ray the pillow he had been sleeping on. "I switched them after you left."

"Freak." Ray gave Fraser a warm smile. "You keep it," he winked at Fraser and settled his head into his partner's pillow. "Your's smells better than mine."

Fraser smiled in the dark at his partner. It was good to have him home, even if it was only for the night. He laid down and closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. Beside him, he could hear Ray's breathing even out. It didn't take long and Ray was sound asleep, snoring lightly. 'He must be exhausted,' Fraser thought to himself. Ray rarely snored. If only sleep would come that easily to him.

A flash of lightening and a clap of thunder startled Fraser awake. He glanced at the bedside clock and groaned. He'd only been asleep for a little over an hour. The flashes of lightening were casting shadows on the walls of the bedroom. Fraser froze then dared a glance towards the window. Was someone there? Was someone outside on the fire escape? It was too difficult to tell if the clambering he was hearing was from the storm blowing in or if it was someone on the old metal structure outside his bedroom. His heart was racing and he could feel it pounding in his chest.

"Ray…" he whispered, nudging his partner in the side with his elbow to get his attention.

"Hmm?" came a sleepy response.

"There's something at the window." Fraser rolled himself carefully up onto an elbow.

"It's just the storm, Frase. Supposed to rain all night," Ray mumbled as he pulled the blankets tighter around his neck.

"No, there's some kind of shadow," Fraser paused and held his breath. "Oh, God, it just moved."

Ray sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He looked towards the window. "I don't see anything, Frase." He laid back down and pulled the covers around his neck again. "Probably just that old oak tree or a squirrel and the lightning. Go back to sleep."

"No. I heard something." Fraser tossed the covers back covering Ray with a double layer of blankets. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and sat there staring hard at the window. "Where's your gun?"

Ray's eyes flashed open at the mention of his weapon. "My what?" he muttered as he tried to wrap his head around Fraser's anxiety. He sat up and grabbed for Fraser's arm before he could get off the bed. "What are you going to do with my gun? Shoot a squirrel?"

Fraser yanked his arm away and bolted out of bed. "It's not a squirrel and it's not a tree." His eyes darted between the window and Ray. "What if it's Jimmy?"

'Oh, shit. Fraser's losing his damn mind,' Ray thought to himself as he tried to process what Fraser was saying. "Jimmy?" Ray questioned as he scooted across the bed. 'He's got freaking bat ears. What if he's right? No.' Ray shook his head. 'This is ridiculous.' "You really think he's going to come out during a torrential downpour and spy on you?"

By the time Ray dragged himself out of bed and cleared the remaining sleep from his eyes, Fraser was already at the window with the curtains thrown back. His eyes danced from side to to side as he tried to get a better view of the fire escape. He squinted against a flash of lightning and turned his head from the blinding light. It was followed by a loud clap of thunder that made both him and Ray jump. Everything he saw through the window was obscured by the rapidly accumulating rain drops on the pane of glass. Whatever was there before was now long gone.

Fraser flinched as Ray came up behind him, startling him. "See?" Ray's voice was calm, reassuring, but his reflection in the rain streaked window was troubled. "Nothin' there." His own eyes passed from one side of the window pane to the other to reassure himself as much as his partner.

"I saw him," Fraser stated firmly as he pressed his forehead against the window to get a better view.

"No, you just thinkyou saw him." Ray slid his hands up Fraser's chest and embraced him from behind. "Your heart is racing, Ben."

Fraser struggled out of Ray's grasp and spun around angrily. "You don't believe me?"

Ray blew out a breath. The last thing he wanted to do was piss off an already panicked guy. He held up his hands and took a slow and decisive step forward. "No. What I think is you're exhausted and under a lot of stress, Ben." He softened his voice when he saw the hurt in Fraser's eyes. Ben looked like he thought Ray was betraying him. "You think that Jimmy's going to come after you because of what he did and you have every right to be anxious about that and feel that way. But you're just imagining that you're seeing him. You said so yourself, Ben. You thought you saw him at the park, but he can't be in two places at once." Ray reached out and took Fraser's elbow. "Come back to bed and let's try to get some sleep. It's just a storm." Ray threw a thumb over his shoulder as he tried to persuade Fraser to join him back in their bed. "Come on, I didn't drive all this way to sleep alone."

Fraser stole one last glance out the window and relented. Ray was right. It was just the storm.

"This has got to stop!" Luke screamed at Jimmy who sauntered into the living room, hair dripping wet, freshly lit cigarette dangling from his lips. "I didn't go through a thousand hoops to get your ass out of jail just so you could keep slipping away in the middle of the night to spy on this guy."

"Like I told you before, you need to relax. I'm not going to get caught." Jimmy flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette and took another long drag. "He doesn't even know what end is up anymore."

"He still sounds pretty lucid to me. I was listening to him freaking out when he thoughthe heard someone. You want to get yourself shot? " Luke shoved his hands onto his hips. "Listen, you've been my friend for a very long time. Do not force me to cut ties with you over this because you can't think with the right head. I told you when I got you out, we do this myway."

"The only thing you want is revenge on Ray." Jimmy ran a hand through his wet hair dispelling some of the water with a flick of his wrist. "And the only thing I want, is him outof the way."

"He killed my older brother. I've waited a long time for an opportunity like this to present itself. It's too bad you had to get yourself thrown into jail but it does work to my advantage. Don't worry about Ray. My guys in Bremen will make sure he stays out of the way." Luke wrung his hands together. "And then I can't wait to get my own hands on him. But as for Benton, he needs to be completely unraveled in order for our plan to work. Maybe we should consider upping the dosage."

"What's Ray doing back here anyway?" Jimmy retrieved a beer from the fridge and flipped off the top. It skittered across the countertop and landed in the sink. "I thought you had that covered."

"I got a call in to my guys. Don't worry, they'll get him back there and then we can continue with our plan of attack here."

"This isn't going to work if he keeps popping up. If Benton starts acting any more out of the ordinary around him, he's going to haul his ass off to the hospital and then we're screwed."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure they keep him so busy at that factory he won't know what end is up either. He'll forget he's even undercover."

"What about this guy that supposedly knows Benton so well? You think he's in all the way with us?" Jimmy set his beer bottle down on the countertop and leaned heavily against it.

"He got us some pretty good info on the Constable? He sure as hell better be committed or he's going down with the rest of us if this blows up in our faces." Luke lit his own cigarette and took a long drag. "He's got his own reasons for wanting the Constable out of the way. Who am I to judge where our help comes from? Anything we can do to make Fraser look incompetent is just that much better. It helps to have the inside info on Fraser's past. Who knew the guy had been addicted to pain meds?" Luke was looking smug, smiling a little with cruel intentions. He took a long satisfied drag off the cigarette and smirked at the ceiling. "Looking at him, he looks like a damn boy scout. We just have to make sure that twin of yours doesn't get any ideas of his own."

"Imagine my surprise," Jimmy scowled. "Seriously, just imagine how I felt when you came to me in that there goddamn cell and told me I had a twin." Jimmy glared at him. "Shame you didn't turn up when I was arrested in the first place. I could have done with a decent lawyer."

"Well," Luke shrugged. "You have a point. You wouldn't have been in jail if I'd been your lawyer from the start."

Jimmy's lip curled, as though he had bitten a lemon. "You never did tell me why the fuck you decided to see me at all."

"Easy enough. I saw you on the television; you looked just like a client of mine."

"My dear brother ." Jimmy took a drag on his cigarette. "Well. I didn't know anything about him growing up. How'd you find all that out anyway?" Jimmy asked curiously as he picked at the label on his beer bottle. "About me having a twin? My mom never mentioned anything about having a sibling."

"Well, maybe she had her reasons."

"Yeah," Jimmy snarled at the mention of his mother. "My mom's a drunk."

"Well, I have to agree with that. When I found your mother, she was holed up in the corner of a bar having a self-pity party." Luke watched Jimmy with bright and malicious interest as he twisted the knife. "It was the day you were convicted. She kept going on about how she gave up the wrong kid, not that her other kid turned out any better, and how her life has been full of disappointments, blah blah blah. How she couldn't do anything right in her life." Luke chuckled at the expense of the worthless excuse for a mother. "This from a woman who was kicking back shots at noon."

"Like I said," Jimmy scowled. "My mom's a drunk."

"That she was. In fact," Luke gave a quick and private smile, "she still is." With fake sympathy, he patted Jimmy's hand, which flinched away. "It must have been terrible," he said, not even trying to hide his insincerity. "Growing up, I mean. Must have been terrible. She didn't care whose house you stayed at, did she? At the end of the day the only thing she cared about was that she didn't have to deal with you."

"That's how Ray and I became friends." Jimmy's mind drifted into memory lane. "His mom always let me stay because she knew what my own mother was like. Probably felt sorry for me. I haven't seen my mom since I moved out right after high school." Jimmy sneered as he flicked the sticky label off his finger onto the floor. "Maybe she should have put both her kids up for adoption."

"Well, she didn't, Buddy. Just have to deal with the cards you're dealt. With the exception of this latest fiasco you've found yourself in, you haven't done too badly for yourself." Luke smoothed his hand down his suit coat. "You never became a lawyer or anything, but you managed well enough."

Jimmy moved up on the balls of his feet ready to pop his friend upside the head. Luke had always talked like he was better than everyone else when they were kids. Jimmy guessed that adulthood didn't change that trait in his friend. He could have been a lawyer, ifhe wanted to. He just didn't.

"Anyway, I did some snooping around. Being a lawyer I can get away with that kind of stuff and I managed to find him. Seems he hasn't exactly lived on the right side of the tracks either. Seems he needed a lawyer as well to get himself out of a sticky situation. He was more than delighted to get to know you and help us out. Apparently, his adoptive parents weren't all that great either." Luke took another drag off his cigarette. "He liked to party as well. Got into some trouble with underage drinking, which of course led to even more rebellion which as you know from your past catapulted into some serious drug use to block out the misery of his everyday existence.

"Explain to me again why we're friends?"

"I was always good at negotiating with people to get what we wanted." Luke flicked his ash into a nearby tray. "You weren't."

"Where's he at anyway?" Jimmy scanned the apartment. Finding out he had a twin was working out pretty well so far. He had been positioned on one side of the park while Jimmy was on the other, giving Fraser the impression he was seeing things. If they could just keep it up, Benton Fraser would be unraveled in no time.

"He's sleeping." Luke made a face. "When I got here this evening and couldn't find you, I assumed you went over to Benton's place." Luke threw the hand held radio at Jimmy. "If you would have been listening, you would have known Ray was back. I had to slip Ryan a sleeping pill when he said he was going to go spy on Fraser for you. That's all I need is for both of you to get caught snooping around the man's place."

Jimmy caught the radio and slammed it down onto the counter top. "I knew Ray was there. I wanted to see how they were together, now that Benton is messed up in the head. I wanted to see for myself how their relationship is being affected."

"Haven't you been listening over the past week?" Luke yelled. "They argue non-stop."

"Exactly… but that means they're still talking, doesn't it? And Ray did in fact come to check on him, didn't he? We need to step up our game if we are going to split them up. It's going to take more than Benton having a headache and acting irrational for them to go their separate ways." Jimmy lit another cigarette and blew the smoke into the air. "We aren't doing a very good job at keeping them apart."

"I bet you enjoyed watching them have sex." Luke snickered. "Sick pervert."

Fraser stirred the eggs on the stove and pressed a palm into his left eye. Why did he have to start the day off with yet another headache? This one felt different, more like the onset of a migraine. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, hoping to relieve some of the building tension. With Ray home, he was hoping to feel like himself again, more grounded. Yet, he felt even more unsettled. He stopped pushing the eggs around the skillet and thought about taking another dose of the tylenol, but it really seemed to have no effect on the previous headaches. Fraser groaned against the pain. He needed to figure out what was wrong with himself and soon. This had gone on long enough

Ray's cell phone came to life on the counter as it rang and vibrated. Fraser picked it up, wincing at the shrill tone. He was about to answer but didn't recognize the incoming number. "Ray," he shouted from the kitchen, then winced again as the loudness of his own voice ratcheted his headache up another notch. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried again, prepared for the pain this time. "Ray?" he called, hoping to catch Ray before he hopped in the shower. "Your phone is ringing."

"Answer it," Ray yelled from the bedroom.

Fraser hesitated. Ray was undercover and this could be from one of the contacts he had possibly made over the course of the last few days. "But I don't recognize the number and I..."

Ray ran into the kitchen in only his boxers to take the call. He slid to a stop beside Fraser and took the phone from his partner's outstretched hand. He wrinkled his brow in confusion when he turned the phone and scanned the display. The number was unfamiliar to him as well. "Hello?"

"Ray, hey it's Shaun from work."

"Oh, hey," Ray answered as he pulled out a bar stool and took a seat. "What's up?" A flash of panic crossed Ray's face. "I wasn't supposed to work today was I?" Ray ticked the days off in his head. The schedule that they worked at the factory took some getting used to and he was hoping he didn't have it messed up in his head.

"No," Shaun laughed lightly into the receiver. "It's our day off. Sorry to call you man but I was hoping you could help me out. I got your number from HR. We are short a few people for night shift tonight and I was wondering if you'd like some overtime? I know it isn't our normal shift, but I'll be there as well and it does pay time and a half."

"Time and a half, huh? Can't beat that. What time?"

"Five pm. I know it's not much notice and you're probably exhausted from your first few days, but we could really use the extra set of hands and you caught on quick. I'd rather have you there than one of the other new hires. I'd really appreciate it."

"Hey no problem. I didn't have any other plans other than rubbing myself down with Ben-Gay." Ray winked at Fraser and was met with a dish towel in the face at his attempted joke.

"Not funny," Fraser mouthed before he took a sip of his coffee.

Ray tossed the towel back and grinned wide as he mouthed back, "Yes it was." He coughed into his hand to try and hide the onset of laughter. "Sounds good. I'll see you tonight." Ray rolled his wrist and read the time on his watch. It would take him three hours to get back to Indiana and if he was going to be working the night shift, he should probably catch a nap. He would have to leave soon. "Oh, hey, when am I going to get my own key card to get in the building?"

"Your badge doesn't work?"

"No, just lets me clock in and out."

"Ok, I'll get with HR and have them issue you a new one. We have this problem all the time with new hires."

"Thanks," Ray said as he rubbed his jaw. "It's getting a little old knocking on the door waiting for someone to let me in at the butt crack of dawn."

"The butt crack of dawn?" Shaun laughed through the receiver. "Yeah, some of the old timers like to give the newbies a hard time and pretend they don't hear them. Hopefully the new one will work."

"Ok, I'll see you tonight then." Ray disconnected the call and blew out a long breath. "Looks like I have to head back earlier than I planned." He scrubbed his hand down his face. "God this is going to be a long day."

"Your badge doesn't work properly?" Fraser asked as he pushed the eggs around in the skillet before him.

"No, I can't get in the building with it."

"Hmm," Fraser pursed his lips together, his forehead wrinkled in thought.

"What?" Ray asked. "Shaun said that was normal for new hires."

"But you're not really a new hire. I just think it's odd that you're undercover and the things you need, aren't working properly."

Ray scrubbed his jaw for a moment. "You think something's up?" Here he was worried about Fraser's well being and started to wonder if he shouldn't worry about himself as well.

"It's probably nothing, just an oversight on the plant manager's part." Fraser flicked a thumb across his eyebrow. "Just watch your back."

"I will," Ray promised.

"What time do you have to be there?" Fraser hung his head as he turned the heat off on the stove. "Do you at least have time to have breakfast with me? I wasn't expecting you to come home, but now that you're here, I really don't want to let you go back quite yet."

Ray strolled into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Fraser's neck. He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Fraser's lips. "Yeah," he breathed out as he touched his forehead against Fraser's. "I've always got time for you." Ray planted a kiss to Fraser's lips and took a step back. "Whatcha' got cookin'?"

"Some eggs, bacon and potatoes." Fraser turned the heat back on the potatoes and gave them a quick stir.

"Fried potatoes?" Ray questioned.

"Just for you." Fraser placed the spatula on the spoon rest and turned to face his partner. "Listen, about last night," he started as he tucked the palms of his hands into the back pocket of his jeans. His cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. "I'm sorry about the way I reacted with the storm and what I thought I heard and saw."

"You should take some time off."

"When you're done with your assignment, then I will." Fraser motioned to the boxes stacked in the living room. "I need to help figure out who tried to burn down the Consulate." He folded his arms across his chest. "That task alone should help distract me from... other things."

"If he comes anywhere near you," Ray jabbed a finger into Fraser's chest. "You call Welsh and have his ass thrown back into jail."

Fraser grabbed Ray's finger in one swift motion. "I'll be fine. Let's eat before breakfast gets cold."

Fraser shut the door behind Ray and clicked the lock into place, effectively locking himself in and the rest of the world out. His plan for the day had been to go into work and help sift through the debris from the fire at the Consulate, hoping to discover clues as to who set the blaze. A single phone call from Inspector Thatcher, while Ray was in the shower changed those plans. She had ordered him to remain home and further collect himself. But he was itching to do something constructive with his day. He glanced around at the boxes stacked in the living room and an idea popped in his head. If he couldn't go into work, maybe he could work from home. Perhaps there was something in their files that would point to the culprit.

Fraser returned to the kitchen and opened the cupboard door to get some tea. He stared at the package and returned it to its proper place. He needed something stronger than tea this morning to keep him going and his mind focused. There were still a few cups of coffee left in the coffee pot from breakfast with Ray. "That will do for now,' he said to the empty kitchen as he poured himself a full cup. He took the cup into the living room and placed it on the coffee table. 'This is one of my strong suits,' he thought to himself as he picked up the first box of files and placed it on the floor, then sat cross legged in front of it. 'Digging through mountains of paperwork for that one clue.' He always prided himself with not giving up when the odds seemed stacked against him.

A knock at the door startled Fraser out of his thoughts. He glanced at his watch and winced when he tried to straighten out his legs. Where had the time gone? It was well into late afternoon. He had managed to miss yet another meal since he had started sifting through the files searching for clues. He managed to stand up and shook his right foot as the pins and needles set in. The knock sounded again as he bent over and picked up a piece of paper that had skittered to the floor. He placed it neatly back into its file folder before taking a quick swig of coffee. Fraser made a face. A fresh pot was in order after answering the door. Fraser made his way to the door as the knocking continued. Lieutenant Welsh's rumpled face appeared in the peephole. Fraser opened the door and took a step back.

"I thought maybe you could use a late lunch," Welsh held up a red plastic bag of takeout and gave Fraser a lopsided guilty grin. "Okay, my wife hates sushi and I never get to eat it. Inspector Thatcher told me you were home ill today and I thought perhaps this would help. A win-win for both of us."

"Ill, huh?" Fraser pulled the door all the way open and allowed Welsh into his apartment. "That's not quite true, Sir." Fraser bit back the rest of his response but his face betrayed him.

"I didn't figure it was. " Welsh could see the rising anger building on Fraser's face and wanted to go back to the Consulate and confront Inspector Thatcher on Fraser's behalf. "Otherwise we'd be eating chicken noodle soup instead of gourmet sushi." Welsh's beefy hand held up the plastic bag again. "Bon appetit."

"Douzo meshiagare," Fraser replied absently.

The lieutenant looked around the apartment. "Where's the wolf?"

"He's fallen ill. I had to take him to the vet this past week." Fraser ushered Welsh towards the living room as he grabbed plates and napkins. "What can I get you to drink?"

Welsh let out a long sigh. "Ray have any beer in there?"

Fraser raised an eyebrow at the unusual request.

"It's been a long day and I'm not going back into work, if that's what you're worried about." Welsh placed the sushi on the coffee table next to Fraser's cold coffee and pulled out the containers. "I had them make me an assortment. I wasn't sure what you liked."

"Any is fine, Sir, thank you for the gesture." Fraser looked at his watch. Where did the day go? It was already half past five. Ray would have been at work for almost an hour now. Fraser hoped he was making progress with the case even though he had an unexplained uneasiness about the assignment. His stomach growled and he realized he hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast with Ray. No wonder his head was still pounding. He had spent the entire day looking through files and had found nothing substantial.

Welsh settled on the couch and popped the top off his beer, taking a long swallow. "Now that hits the spot."

"Is everything okay?" Fraser asked before taking a drink from his glass of water.

"I don't know how you work with that woman everyday, Constable."

"Inspector Thatcher?" Fraser gave an exasperated sigh. "She does take some getting used to."

Welsh stared at him for a moment, as though he had just sprouted an extra head. 'What?' Fraser wondered. 'Why is he looking at me like that?' Then he realized. He had just directly criticized a superior officer. "That is to say..." he stuttered. "I mean..."

Welsh shook his head, making a 'don't sweat it' gesture with the hand not holding the beer bottle. "Don't worry, Constable. I understand."

"I really shouldn't have -"

Welsh rolled his eyes, and carried on talking as though Fraser hadn't said anything. "God, I was there for only a few hours and she was about to drive me crazy. Her constant demands of people and the way she treats Turnbull..."

"Constable Turnbull was there?" Fraser asked surprised. Was he acting that incompetent that he had been replaced by Turnbull of all people?

"Yeah, the poor guy couldn't keep up with her today."

'To be fair,' Fraser thought, uncharitably, 'Constable Turnbull couldn't keep up with Ray's turtle on a good day.'

"I don't mean to be rude, Sir and thank you for dinner, but-" Fraser paused. This was the important question, after all. "Why are you here?"

"I've never known you not to go into work. Hell, you work a full day at the Consulate and then come to the station and work a full shift with Ray. You took a bullet to the back and you barely were off a few months. When Inspector Thatcher said you had called in sick, I thought that was a little peculiar. With that Akers guy being out of prison and Ray being gone, I thought I would just pop in to see for myself how you were doing."

"Did Ray tell you Jimmy Akers had been released?"

Welsh looked at Fraser, concerned. "Don't you remember asking me to check on him through his parole officer the other day?"

Fraser froze, fear creeping up his spine in a slow shudder. How could he be so out of sorts that he couldn't remember anything these past few weeks?

"Anyway, I did that and was told he has made every check in to date. Leave it to me to have a stack of paperwork on my desk a mile high. I came across the file with his release information in it this morning. I just want you to know that I never would have sent Ray on that assignment had I known. Thatcher should have given me a heads up. With you being her employee, she should have received the same information about you, as I did about Ray."

"I don't know." Fraser shrugged his shoulders. Thinking back, he hadn't come across any such file. He glanced at all the remaining boxes he had yet to sort through, it's surely in there, somewhere. "It's fine. She never told me either. Ray and I both got letters in the mail." Fraser bristled when he thought back to Ray hiding the letter from him. He absentmindedly rubbed at his aching shoulder. "And I'm fine. I don't need Ray here to take care of me."

"But you're clearly not sick." Welsh's tone was direct. "Why would she lie?"

Fraser shook his head. "No, I'm notsick. However, I'm under the impression Inspector Thatcher feels I'm incapable of my duties at the moment." Fraser scrubbed at his face with the palms of his hands. He let out a slow breath and continued. "To be honest, I haven't been feeling like myself since we came home from Canada and apparently it's affecting everything I do. I've done nothing but snap at Ray. To make matters worse, I forgot to call Inspector Thatcher and tell her about the fire." Fraser motioned to the opened boxes Welsh had helped him move a few nights before. "I thought I would work from home investigating the arson. Maybe something in our files will lead us to the guilty party."

Welsh stared at the young man before him. Fraser didn't look up to par. He was pale and was fidgeting with his chopsticks, looking no better than he did the day Thatcher sent him home. Welsh wondered if he would even be able to use the chopsticks, his hands were shaking so bad. Maybe hewassick. "I'm not sure what you're looking for, but would you like some help?"

Fraser glanced from the boxes and then to Welsh. He tugged on his ear as his eyes darted towards his bedroom. "I would like some help, but of a different kind if you don't mind." Fraser's thoughts drifted back to his jog in the park and the night before when he was so sure that Jimmy was outside his bedroom window. "Can you check with Jimmy Aker's parole officer again for me?" Fraser twirled his thumbs around one another nervously. He didn't even like saying the guy's name let alone asking for help checking on him. "I just have this uneasy feeling that he's been here."

Welsh sat straighter on the couch, food and drink all but forgotten. "Has he been bothering you?" his voice was tight matter-of-fact.

"No. I just…" Fraser hesitated and stared at a spot on the floor. "I just need to know for my own peace of mind." Fraser suddenly felt better saying that one simple sentence. He hadn't been at peace since he found out Jimmy had been let out of prison. That would explain his mood swings, his irritable behavior, his lack of sleep. He needed to feel that peace again.

"Sure, I can do that." Welsh toyed with his own chopsticks for a moment. "You're not scared of this guy are you?"

Fraser thought back to everything he and Ray had been through because of Jimmy Akers. "He terrifies me."

Ray leaned against the building and let released the yawn he had been holding in for the past ten minutes. By the time he got back to the nasty apartment and caught a nap, it was time to get up again. His stomach growled and he realized he should have eaten something more than a slice of toast when he woke up. But he was concerned about missing Shaun and the other employees still were not letting him in the building. But the man wasn't there yet and Ray was starting to worry. He twisted his wrist and read the time on his watch. Suddenly, the door flew open and a massive guy popped his head out. It was difficult to guess his age against the deep tan and bulging muscles that spilled out of his clothing.

"There you are. Been lookin' for you for a while now." He looked like the Incredible Hulk with his bulk and the muscles that billowed out of his cut-off shirt sleeves. "You Ray?" the man asked as his Pittsburgh Steelers hat caught in the evening wind and almost blew off his head. He clamped the ball cap down with a thick hand and caught the door with his foot so it didn't slam shut.

"Yeah, that's me." Ray offered his hand and the guy dismissed it with a quick jerk of the head inside the building.

"Come on, we got work to do."

Ray followed the man after scanning the parking lot one more time for Shaun. "Where's Shaun?" he asked as he walked down the air conditioned hallway. He was savoring the cool air because once he crossed through the next door, he knew he would be hit with a wall of heat.

"Shaun is already back in his department." The man held open the door for Ray and then followed him through into the heart of the plant. "Change of plans, you'll be working for me tonight. Name's Mike. Shaun told me he had an extra body to spare, so I need you on take-up."

"Okay. What exactly is take-up?" Ray asked as he followed the massive man in the opposite direction of his department. He found it hard to breath and couldn't believe that this part of the building was even hotter than the one he had been working in. 'Good God,' Ray thought as he wiped the growing sweat from his brow. 'How do people work in this everyday?'

Mike didn't even look at Ray as he ushered him to the end of the line. "This is Zippy, he's your line operator."

"Uh, hi, Zippy?" Ray tried not to smirk at the obvious nickname. The man he was just introduced to could stand to lose a good hundred pounds. Ray was certain there was no zipin Zippy.

"Hi." Zippy, whoever he was, seemed less than friendly. Ray dropped the hand that he had held out automatically and let out his own dismissive huff. 'That's what you get for dating a Canadian,' he thought with a touch of sarcasm. 'The politeness is contagious and nobody gives a fuck.' He shoved his hands deep into his back jeans pockets and tried to make sense of Mike's spiel as he explained the layout of what he'd be doing.

"You mean I just stand here and put these reels on and take them off all night?" Ray asked as he stared at the machine before him that seemed to spit out a finished reel in the blink of an eye. If he actually had the time to clock how long it took, he would, but he didn't. How the hell was he supposed to investigate anything if he was stuck on a machine like this for the next 12 hours?

"You need a break, ask Zippy and he'll cover for you."

Ray started to panic. What if he couldn't keep up? He wasn't used to this kind of work and in this heat no less. Throw in lack of sleep and it all seemed like he would fall flat on his face in a matter of minutes.

"Relax." Mike's deep voice snapped him back into reality. "Just take the finished reel off, put the empty one on, close the door and the machine will do the rest. One minute reels gives you plenty of time to label and package as well." Mike smirked a little and nudged Ray in the shoulder. "You look a little scared there, Ray. I'll tell Zippy to take it easy the first few hours, then I need you running up to speed."

"Thanks," Ray said dryly. "I'll try and keep up."

"That's the spirit," Mike said with a little too much enthusiasm for Ray's liking.

Ray groaned as he dropped his backpack onto the table. He felt like he had just been thrown under the bus with this take-up assignment. It's not like he could just spout out, "Hey you, I'm undercover here. You're not making my job any easier!"He let out a frustrated sigh, grabbed his wire cutters and shoved them into his back pocket and waited for Zippy to start the line.

"This blows," Ray said to no one in particular. He looked around, hell, he was the only one that was back in this part of the building besides Zippy.'Zippy,' he snickered. 'What the hell kind of name was that anyway?' He decided to wander down and watch what Zippy was doing, maybe make some small talk with the guy, hopefully loosen the man up a bit. "Can I help you do anything?" he offered.

"Hold this," Zippy's hand shot out from his hunched over form on the floor and dropped a small die into Ray's open palm. Good thing Ray had quick instincts. Credit his reflexes to working on cars for many years with an impatient father. "Stupid son-of-a bitch gives me another fucking moron to train three nights in a row," Zippy muttered as he twisted the wire in his beefy fingers in an attempt to get it to go through the small opening before him. He adjusted his safety glasses as they slipped down his pudgy nose and swept his straggly hair away from his eyes. "Can't ever catch a fucking break with that guy," he mumbled under his breath.

"Woah there, buddy," Ray bristled and moved up on the balls of his feet, instantly pissed off. Undercover or not, nobody called him a fucking moron. "First off, I'm not a fucking moron." He shot a finger in the air. "Second, I didn't ask to be moved down here. I was supposed to be working with Shaun tonight, not doing whatever the fuck take-up is."

Zippy's head snapped up, surprised at Ray's outburst. Not a single new person had ever called him out before. "I'm sorry man," his voice had a slight tremble to it and Ray wondered if he had scared the guy, or if maybe he was sick or something. He didn't look sick, but he looked - off, somehow. There was something that seemed familiar, but Ray couldn't place it. Maybe it was just that this dude wasn't used to being knocked down a notch. The guy looked apologetic as he said, "It's just, he brings me a damn newbie every time I turn around. Makes me wonder if he isn't trying to sabotage my numbers and trying to get someone to replace me on the line."

Ray shook his head. 'Sabotage numbers? What the fuck?' If he were a regular Joe and not undercover, he'd be hitting the road. No way would he work for someone like this guy Mike. Come to that, he wouldn't work with Zippy either, if he had a choice. Although, Zippy didn't seem that aggressive anymore. His eyes didn't reach Ray's when he apologized. Maybe his apology was genuine. Then again… maybe not. Maybe he was just being shifty. Ray thought maybe Zippy had been putting on a show when he first met him and was intimidated by Mike. He was a duplicate version of the Incredible Hulk after all, Ray too would be leery of calling him out on anything. "Look," he called out to Zippy, who seemed to be ignoring him, "give me a shot and don't kill right from the get go and I'll help you get numbers. I'm a quick learner, you just need to give me a chance."

Zippy's eyes lit up at the prospect of finally hitting his rate. "You ever done this before?"

Ray shook his head and Zippy's excitement slipped away. "No, but like I said, I catch on quick." That was one of the reasons Ray was so good at undercover. After all, the brass wouldn't keep sending him on new assignments if he couldn't think on his feet. Ray handed Zippy the wire cutters that were on the floor beside him and the die. "You need both of these now, right?"

Zippy gave what seemed an almost sincere grin. It could have been indigestion. Or a toothache. It looked kinda like a toothache. "I like you, Spike." Zippy accepted both tools and returned to his work. "You just may work out back here."

Ray smiled lightheartedly. "Spike's an improvement to fucking moron." Ray grinned a little on the inside. He had made a breakthrough. "Hey, how long you gonna be yet?" Ray threw his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the break room. "Do I have time to grab a Gatorade. It's fucking hot in here." Ray wiped the sweat from his brow to prove his point, not that he thought he needed to. Zippy was dripping in sweat already.

"You've got about ten minutes." Zippy looked at his own watch to confirm the time frame. "And hey, don't pay for a bottle of that shit. The cleaning ladies make up a cooler full of it for us. Get it out of there. It's colder and tastes better."

"Thanks man. You want one?" Zippy jerked a nod. "Cool." Ray felt his anxiety ease a little. "I'll be right back."

For the next eight hours Zippy and Ray worked in harmony. Okay, so at least twenty percent of the time something was going wrong. On one occasion, Ray forgot to put the lock on the shaft securing the reel in place before closing the door. One minute and twenty seconds later he about had his first heart attack when the reel came flying off the shaft and hit the plexi-glass door. Zippy spouted off a few obscenities as he restrung the line and Ray swore to himself that would never happen again. He just about had his heart rate back under control when the snagger didn't cut the wire and there was shredded wire flying everywhere in the enclosed machine. Ray groaned and Zippy restrung the machine again.

But Ray didn't panic, at least not on the outside. Maybe it was the fact that he was calm, maybe it was the fact that he was quick and didn't leave things fucked up for too long. Maybe it was the fact that he was keeping up a cheerful banter and listened to Zippy's complaining - whatever it was. Zippy clapped him on the shoulder several times and grinned wider each time. Things started going more right than wrong. True to his word, Ray caught on quick and Zippy was obviously appreciating it.

"You know, Spike," Zippy said, leaning back against the wall for a moment and taking a swig of his drink. "I haven't had the line running this fast in months."

"Yeah?" Ray grinned. "Told you I was good."

"Arrogant bastard," Zippy joked. "You know," he mused, "I should maybe ask to get you on nights." He dragged the chewed up toothpick he'd been gnawing on all night between his teeth. For a moment, Ray wished he'd get a splinter in his tongue and shut up for five minutes. Zippy dropped the sarcasm. "You didn't lie about being quick," he exclaimed a little surprised. "You don't stand around moaning and groaning about getting the shit job when it should have been someone else." He looked at him speculatively. "You're good at teamwork. What did you used to do?"

Ray shrugged. "A little bit of everything," he said.

"So, why did you leave your last job?" Zippy sounded just a little too interested, and a bit suspicious. Ray wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. Best way to lie was to tell the truth, he thought.

"My, uh, my wife left me." He shrugged. "Didn't want to stick around after that."

"Yeah?" Zippy seemed to relax. "That sucks." He rolled his shoulders and dropped his voice and head, staring at the ground. "My wife just left me too. Guess after ten years she decided we weren't compatible anymore."

"Yeah." Ray looked away, feeling guilty. Fact was, it didn't suck at all that Stella had left him. Not anymore. If she hadn't left him he'd never have met Fraser. "Well. You know. Life."

"Life." Zippy laughed. "Not all it's cracked up to be."

Ray turned back to the job in hand. The conversation was making him uncomfortable. Zippy joined him. "You're gonna be sore tomorrow," the man said as he took a box off the tape conveyor and stacked it for Ray on the skid. "First day doing this is always the hardest on people."

"Oh yeah?" Ray questioned as he stretched his back. He could feel the tightness and tension building around his shoulder blades from doing the same repeated action for the last eight hours. "I do have some Ben -Gay at home." He fought back the urge to smirk at his own inside joke. What he wouldn't give for a back rub from Fraser when he was done with his day. "Is that why it's so hard to keep people back here or is it just your charming attitude they can't handle?"

"Asshole," Zippy jeered. "How long you been here, Spike?"

Ray ticked the days off in his head as he loaded up an empty reel into the machine. "This makes day four."

"Day four, huh?" Zippy slapped him a little too hard on the back and Ray lurched forward. "Why, we're practically family now."

"Family, huh?" Ray asked. "How about you? How long's it been for you?"

"Too damn long." Zippy mock punched Ray in the shoulder. "I've got a couple things to do before this next color change over. Count out ten reels and then you can take a five minute break."

"Ten reels, five minutes to catch my breath. Got it." Ray slapped a sticker on the finished reel and dropped it into the nearby box.

Ten minutes later Zippy knocked Ray's elbow out from under his head. "You snore, Spike."

"Jesus!" Ray sat up with a start. Last thing he remembered was finishing the tenth reel. Then he sat down and… crap. He'd fallen asleep on the job. He winced. Zippy was right. He was going to be sore. "Was I drooling too?"

Zippy snorted as he slung a dingy shop rag over his shoulder. "Yeah, just a little. I mopped it up for you. You uh, need a little pick me up?"

Ray perked up. "You got coffee?" And yes, he could almost smell the aroma from a fresh cup of coffee.

"Nah, coffee's in the break room."

Ray groaned and leaned his tired head back into the palm of his hand. Nothing would be better than a steaming hot cup of coffee at this juncture, even if he didn't have any chocolate to stir into it. He didn't care.

Zippy leaned in closer, dropped his voice a notch, his eyes scanning the area around them. "I've got something better than coffee." He pulled his hand out of his shirt pocket and revealed a Tic-Tac bottle.

It wasn't the first time Ray had seen this kind of thing, and maybe this wasn't what it looked like. Maybe it wasjust a container of Tic-Tacs.Whatever.His cop senses were tingling. He was on to something. Still - he was good at his job. His realjob. He just blinked, blearily, and yawned, didn't let anything suspicious show.

"My breath that bad?" he questioned through another stifled yawn. Inside, his heart was racing. He was here to uncover wire theft, was there also a drug problem in the plant? With the size of the supervisor, Ray had to wonder if there was more going on. The guy looked like he ate steroids for breakfast on a regular basis. Either the higher ups didn't pay much attention to the unusually muscular male or they just looked the other way.

Zippy's voice faded in from left field. "Promise. This will get you through the last three hours."

Ray could feel panic beginning to rise up from within. Zippy was trusting him. Trusting him to take the offered pill. If he didn't take it, he wasn't sure he'd get another shot. The open door would be permanently closed. He could accept the small white tablet but not actually take it. Fuck, he was so tired his brain was fried. If he questioned Zippy about the pill, he felt like he'd be burning a bridge he had worked all night to build. Ray stuck his hand out.

When Ray closed the door of the run down apartment he was staying in, he felt like he could have worked another three hours if they would have let him. Zippy must have popped a pill as well because Ray hadn't seen him move that quickly the first nine hours that they had worked. Didn't think he was physically able with the way he had been carrying on about all the damn medical conditions he supposedly had. High blood pressure, borderline diabetic, nasty skin condition. That much was obvious. Ray shuddered at the scaley skin on Zippy's legs and arms. He also had a couple of bad knees… the list went on and on as the night wore on. But ten minutes after Zippy had offered Ray the little white 'miracle pill' as he had called it, Zippy himself seemed to be a new man.

Ray slung his backpack onto the grungy tan couch. He felt like a new man himself. Initially, he had meant to pop the pill under his tongue and save it for evidence. But the damn thing dissolved so fast, he didn't have time to remove it. Ray wasn't expecting that. Nor was he expecting the immediate effects of the drug. Not nearly as bad as he thought. He didn't experience any jittering, his heart didn't feel like it was going to explode out of his chest. He was completely re-energized as if he had just had ten hours of the most restful sleep. But as he bounced around the miniscule kitchen half expecting food to materialize out of thin air, he was hit with the equivalent of a coffee crash times three.

"Fuck," he blurted out as he dropped himself to the kitchen floor and just sat there staring at the refridgerator, completely spaced out. He wasn't sure if the sudden onslaught of the crash was worth the three hours of energy the 'little miracle' provided. Ray wondered if Zippy was experiencing the same crash as him or if his body was immune. He hadn't been paying attention to see if Zippy had been popping the little pills all night. He doubted it though, since he never saw the Tic-Tac container but the one time and the rest of the night, Zippy was slower than a slug stuck in molasses. Zippy was right. He made it through the last few hours of the shift. Now all Ray wanted was sleep.

Fraser dropped a heavy hand onto the blaring alarm clock, effectively silencing the device. He groaned and rolled back over to Ray's side of the bed, pulling the sheet with him. The summer sun was peeking through the split in the curtains, casting shadows around the bedroom. Fraser could tell already it was going to be another hot and humid day. Inspector Thatcher may not be too keen on his work ethics at the moment, but at least she hadn't been cruel enough to subject him to sentry duty.

He knew that he needed to get up and get around for work, but his body felt as if he had been on the losing end of a fight. If ever he should actually call off work sick, today would be a good day. Perhaps he was coming down with the 'flu. Muscle aches were a symptom, and he really did ache everywhere. He scrubbed a hand over his forehead and steeled himself to get out of bed. One leg fell over the edge of the bed and then Fraser forced the other one as well, sitting up slowly until both feet were planted firmly on the floor. He looked around his bedroom and for a split second imagined Ray being home. Clothes were discarded beside the hamper, rather than in it. 'Classic Ray move,' Fraser thought dryly. He was always picking up after the man. But then he realized those were his clothes, not Ray's. What was wrong with him? Had Ray worn off on him so much that he was now transformed into a slob? Fraser mentally scolded himself. 'Get a grip, Ben.' First thing on the list of chores when he got home from work was laundry.

He slowly made his way to the kitchen to make some breakfast and tea. When he stepped around the breakfast bar and saw the state of the kitchen, he added wash dishes to his list. His stomach began growling as he untwisted the bread tie. Maybe he should have eaten a few more pieces of sushi when Lieutenant Welsh had brought him dinner. He had been hungry but quickly lost his appetite when Welsh starting asking him about Jimmy. The man had stayed longer than Fraser was expecting, but he did manage to help him go through one box of files.

Fraser pushed the lever on the toaster, dropping the bread down into the machine and leaned against the counter. God he was tired this morning. He stared at the clock on the microwave oven. Ray was probably in bed already, dead to the world. Or so wired that he was out searching for the nearest breakfast buffet. With Ray, you never knew what you were going to get at the end of a long shift or a long overnight stakeout. He smiled, thinking about him. That unpredictability was one of the things that he loved most about Ray. Life was never boring when he was around. 'No wonder I'm feeling down,' he thought. 'I miss Ray.' He sighed, and rolled his eyes at his own maudlin sentimentality. 'Good grief, you'd think he's never coming back. He's fine. You're worrying about nothing.' The toast popped up and out of the toaster, startling him back into the present. He swept the crumbs into the sink. One less mess to clean up when he got home.

A knock at the door made him jolt in surprise, and he sloshed his tea on his shirt. Cross with himself he wiped the stain. Why was he so jumpy these days? Not to mention - 'who on earth would be visiting at this hour?' Fraser pondered the possibilities as he checked the time. It was far too early for visitors. Anyone who knew him knew that he would be preparing for work. It was probably a neighbour asking him to get a kitten out of a tree or fix a lamp. Perhaps Ray had a point, and he should stop trying to help everyone. At times like this he felt they were taking attempted to ignore the next knock, and took a bite of his peanut butter toast. It stuck in his throat. Either it was too dry or he wasn't hungry. He forced himself to swallow and washed it down with a swallow of scalding tea. He grimaced, but at least the food and tea cleared out the bad taste from his mouth. Whoever it was knocked again. Taking a look through the peephole revealed Inspector Thatcher on the other side of the door. Fraser's shoulders slumped. 'What on earth does shewant?' He looked down disconsolately at his stained t-shirt. Well, what did she expect this time of the morning? The evil side of his brain told him to ignore her and go about getting ready for work. Instead, he unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

"Good morning, Constable," she remarked as she smoothed the wrinkles from her blouse. She had had her arms folded across her chest as she waited impatiently for Fraser to open the door. "May I come in?" she asked, as she stepped into the room and looked around.

"Of course." Fraser stepped back and reigned in his resentment at her high handed behavior. "I was just finishing up breakfast. Would you like a cup of tea?" he offered.

"No, thank you," she replied, declining his offer.

Fraser eyed her suspiciously. It wasn't like her to come to his place before work - or ever for that matter. "What brings you by this morning?" He managed to keep his distrust out of his voice, and maintained as pleasant a manner as possible. "I'm not late am I?" He knew perfectly well that he wasn't, but the ball was in her court.

Thatcher chuckled and smoothed her blouse again, her own nervous tick perhaps. Or perhaps, Fraser thought uncharitably, she was subconsciously drawing attention to her - assets. Maybe even consciously. It was hard to understand the workings of the Inspector's mind. "No, I was uh, here to tell you that you won't need to come into the Consulate this morning."

"Oh," he replied. His brow furrowed in confusion. Could she not have used the phone? Not that the way she communicated this information was the important thing. What had he done wrong? He could feel the anxiety knotting between his eyebrows as the tension headache that had been dogging him for days worsened. "I don't understand. Don't you want my help investigating the arson? Or at the very least, could you use my help cleaning up the mess left behind?"

"I will be handing the investigation from our side of things while Lieutenant Welsh has developed a team to help with the Chicago side of the matter."

Surely as liaison between the Chicago PD and the Canadian Consulate he should be involved in a joint investigation? Why was he being sidelined? "And what am I to do?" he asked growing agitated. He tried very hard not to show it, but he was sure she could tell that his heart was pounding and his hands were sweating.

"Well," she surveyed the kitchen, disdainfully. "You could start by tidying up this place. And perhaps change into clean clothes."

"Excuse me?" Fraser could barely hold back his outrage. First she practically pushed her way into his apartment, and now she had the nerve to insult him for his housekeeping? What on earth did it have to do with her? He took several deep, slow breaths, and started counting back from ten in Mandarin. "Ihadbeen about to have a shower and change into my uniform."

The Inspector folded her arms across her chest and spoke firmly. "I don't know what is going on with you at the moment, Constable, but you certainly need to pull yourself together."

Fraser was perfectly capable of being calm. He was not going to raise his voice, no matter how much he wanted to. "I assure you, Sir, that I am fine." His voice was controlled and his heart rate was slowing down. This was all being blown out of proportion. "I may be feeling under the weather at the moment but that in no way is affecting my ability to do my job."

"I beg to differ with you, Fraser." Her eyes flashed at him. "Because, in case you forgot, my building caught fire and you-" she jabbed her finger at him, "you, Constable, failed to notify me," Thatcher snapped.

'God give me strength.' Fraser could almost hear his grandmother's voice, as though she was in the room, keeping an eye on proceedings. If she had been in the room she wouldn't have approved of the Inspector in the slightest. She wouldn't have approved of his housekeeping either, but that was another matter. Fraser took a breath, dragged his mind back from its distraction. "There was a logical explanation, if you would have let me explain it to you."

"I don't need to hear any of your petty excuses. You used to be top notch, nothing interfered with you from getting your job done promptly. Now, nothing is in order." Thatcher spotted the boxes of files stacked in the living room. "Well," she conceded. "I can see you did one thing correctly. I'll have Constable Turnbull come around tomorrow and bring the files to my place. Make sure you're here when he arrives."

Before Fraser could respond, another knock sounded at the door. 'What now?' It was seven thirty in the morning, and already this day couldn't end soon enough. Fraser scrubbed a hand over his forehead and moved to answer the door.

The woman on the other side was young, and blonde and pretty . Fraser would have guessed her age to be in her mid to late twenties. Not someone he recognized either. Perhaps she was a neighbor's daughter or friend asking for assistance. He opened the door. "May I help you?"

"Hi there," she grinned wide, showing off too many perfectly straight teeth that were far too white. The young woman twirled her curly blonde hair around her index finger. "Is Ray here?"

"Ray?" Fraser stared blankly at the woman's tapering pink nails. How did Ray know this woman?

"Yeah, Ray," she said in a dreamy voice. "You know, spiked blond hair with a touch of honey, graceful dancer." She leaned forward, hair still twirled around her finger and almost whispered, " Great in the sack."

For a second the words made no sense. Then it hit him. Fraser's stomach clenched. Behind him, Inspector Thatcher had moved within hearing range. She was without a doubt drawing up her own conclusions about their relationship.

"I'm sorry…" he managed to force out. "Ray's not here."

"Well bummer," she pouted and stuck out her bottom lip. "He forgot some things at my place last night." She shrugged a bag from her slender shoulder and unzipped it. She pulled out a pair of jeans and some hair gel and shoved them into Fraser's arms. Ray's missing jeans and hair gel.

Fraser was sick. He was so sick that he was weak and dizzy with it. 'Don't fall over,' he thought desperately, and swayed slightly on his feet. Ray had liedto him. He hadn't gone back to work the night shift, he had gone to shack up with some floozy.

The woman trailed her thin finger down his jawline. "Hmm. Nice," she said, speculatively. "Ray didn't tell me what a knock-out his roommate was. God, the threeof us should get together one night." She winked and lifted his chin with the tip of her finger.

Fraser wanted to throw up. And to make matters worse, his boss had heard every word this woman had said.

"Here's my number. Ray keeps sneaking out before I can give it to him."

"But somehow you managed to get his address," Thatcher exclaimed from behind Fraser. She wasn't helping make the situation any easier to handle.

The blonde ignored her and shoved the piece of paper into Fraser's clenched fist. "Just tell him Gwen stopped by and have him give me a jingle." She spun on her heel and sauntered down the hallway towards the elevator.

"Trouble in paradise?" Thatcher asked with a raised eyebrow. Fraser stared down at the items of clothing that the woman had pushed into his arms. He wanted to throw them away, wanted to run away, didn't want to move. Anything he did would draw Thatcher's attention even more to just how messed up everything in his life suddenly was. He didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say. How do you explain a strange woman showing up on your doorstep, returning your partner's belongings?

You couldn't. He shouldn't have to. The Inspector should do the decent thing and just leave before he broke down completely.

Rather than look at his boss he stared at the numbers printed out neatly on the piece of paper. They looked vaguely familiar.

'Oh my God,' Fraser thought and his stomach knotted even more. That was the phone number that had called Ray the morning before. Ray had said it was Shaun from the factory asking him to work the nightshift. The doubt and fear that he had been trying to deny grew even stronger. Ray really had lied to him. Flat out lied. How else could this woman have gotten ahold of his belongings? How long had this been going on? Had Ray just met her? Of course she had. Ray hadn't even had the woman's phone number. Or - no, that didn't make sense either. Perhaps they had been seeing each other for a while. After all, she had known where they lived. She had called him Ray's 'roommate.' That was - that was appalling. Ray had lied to her as well.

Oh God.

"Ahem," Thatcher cleared her voice, breaking into his spiralling panic. "I think it might be a good idea if you take some time off. Get your home life in order." Her voice was void of all sympathy. Almost as if she was chanting, 'I told you so..'

Fraser stepped back, and yanked the door all the way open. "Get out," he demanded. He couldn't bear her presence for a moment longer. Right now, this was his home and Thatcher was no longer a welcomed guest.

"You're off until Monday morning," she declared as she stepped over the threshold and turned to face him. "At that time, I'll be completing a full re-evaluation of your duties." She turned to leave.

Fraser slammed the door behind her and threw Ray's belongings to the floor. He couldn't hold them a moment longer. The bile churned in his stomach as his mouth flooded with saliva. He stepped over the jeans and hair gel, running to the bathroom before he lost his breakfast on the floor. When he was done vomiting, he went to the kitchen and filled a glass full of water, gulped it down and filled it again. This time he drank it more slowly as he tried to wrap his head around what had just transpired. Had their whole relationship been a farce? Or was it that Ray did love him, but missed female company? He had been married for so long, and had loved his wife. The young woman who had just blasted a hole in their lives looked very much Ray's 'type.' Blonde, petite, pretty. She looked like a young Stella. Fraser had often felt insecure, knowing how far distant he was from Ray's usual tastes, but Ray had assured him that he loved him. Fraser had believed him. Was it something that he had done? Was it something that he said, something that he could change? Or was there some lack in him that Ray needed to find elsewhere?

Fraser couldn't bear it anymore. He needed to get out of the apartment. Needed to get away from anything that reminded him of Ray. The phone rang and he ignored it. There was no way he could talk to anyone.

When Fraser stepped out into the morning sunshine, the humidity in the air took his breath away. He closed his eyes and breathed deep and tried to calm his raging nerves. He was angry. Angry with Inspector Thatcher for the way she was treating him with respect to his job duties, like he couldn't staple two papers together without assistance. He was angry with Ray. No. He was furious.Angry didn't even begin to touch how he was feeling towards Ray. There were no excuses to be made. He would never have betrayed Ray. No matter the reason. How could Ray do this to him? Fraser started walking as the agonizing unanswered questions filled his head. How could someone that claimed to love you, showed you love… cheat on you? He swallowed the rising bile and kept walking. Ray cheated on him? He couldn't manage to wrap his head around what was happening in his life. He had trusted Ray, so completely. And how do you confront that person that you've given your whole heart to? How do you ask ' Why did you do this to me? I would never have done it to you.' Fraser's head spun. The throbbing headache intensified ten times over. He wanted to go home. Home to Canada.

"Benton?"

Fraser heard his name from behind and fear crept up his spine. The only people that had ever called him Benton where his Mother, Grandmother, Francesca Vecchio and Jimmy Akers. His blood ran cold as he slowly turned around and came face to face with the monster.

For the first time since leaving the apartment, Fraser took in his surroundings. He didn't know how long he had been walking or where he was intending to go when he had left, he just needed to get away. People on the sidewalk were going on about their own business. Some were jogging with headphones covering their ears, a few were busy with phone calls. Nobody was paying him or the man before him any attention.

"I thought that was you," Jimmy had his hands tucked deep into his back pockets. It was almost as if he was restraining himself from reaching out and touching Fraser.

Fraser took a step back. Today was getting worse by the minute. He couldn't even leave the house without some fresh horror finding him. "Stay the hell away from me!" Fraser's voice was taut. He couldn't keep the tremors at bay.

Jimmy held his hands up and cast his glance from side to side to make sure no one on the sidewalk was paying any attention to them. "Woah, calm down before you make a scene. I'm not a threat. I was walking to get a coffee and I just happened to see you." He smiled, like they were friends. "Can't exactly miss the hat you wear."

Fraser turned to leave, not wanting to be anywhere near Jimmy.

"Listen," Jimmy jogged to catch up with Fraser and pulled on his elbow to get him to stop.

Fraser shoved Jimmy's hand off his arm. "Don't touch me!"

Jimmy took a step back. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I have a lot of things to be sorry about. Since my release, I've been wanting to apologize for what I did put you and Ray through."

"You have no idea what you put us through," Fraser snapped back. "No idea how long it took us to…" Fraser closed his eyes against the memories. "Just... get away from me and leave me alone." Fraser turned his back and forced himself to walk, not run. He wanted nothing more than to get away. It didn't even matter anymore where he went to, so long as it wasn't anywhere near Ackers.

Jimmy stood on the sidewalk, watching his back, the stiff way he held himself as he left. As Fraser rounded the corner and vanished from sight Jimmy smirked.

"You just think I'll leave you alone."

By the time Fraser had calmed down enough to think straight he had walked most of the way to the Two Seven on autopilot. After all, Lieutenant Welsh hadpromised Fraser he would look into Jimmy's whereabouts for him. He needed to let him know what had just happened. The initial shock of seeing Akers was moving to outrage at the fact that the guy had the nerve to not only approach him but to touch him as well. Fraser shuddered. That in itself must constitute some sort of assault. At the moment Fraser couldn't quite think what the legal term was, but touching someone who you had tried to rape - that was violation, surely?

He walked through the Bullpen, ignoring the concerned looks of Ray's colleagues. He supposed that his appearance, unkempt as it was, drew attention to him in a less than flattering way. He honestly didn't care - and he honestly couldn't be bothered to talk to anyone.

Before he knew it he was standing outside Welsh's office. He raised his hand to rap on the glass and paused. On one side of Welsh's desk he could see Inspector Thatcher, on the other side a man who Fraser recognized as the police union rep. For whatever reason, they were vying for Welsh's attention. Today, of all days, he did not want to see the Inspector again. He steeled himself. There was no choice. He pushed his way through the door, preparing to apologize for interrupting a meeting. This couldn't wait though. He had to get it over.

The Union Rep was speaking. "I just need two more of your officers, Lieutenant, and then you may resume your meeting with the Inspector."

Welsh blew out a long sigh. Why did the Union have to pick today of all days to do random drug testing when he had a large number of officers out working a multiple homicide? "Um," He scratched the top of his head with his beefy hand. "Grab Louis and Hawkins…"

"Hawkins is out on paternity leave. His wife had their baby yesterday."

"Damn…" Welsh stood up and scanned the bullpen.

Thatcher caught sight of Fraser as he pushed his way through the door. 'What about Constable Fraser?" She looked disdainful. "Despite his appearance, I can assure you that he's a liaison with the Chicago Police Department. You can test him as well."

Welsh shrugged. It was a waste of money. Fraser was the cleanest guy he'd ever met, even if Thatcher had a point about his appearance. Was that a tea stain on his shirt? Oh, who cared. "Fine, take Constable Fraser and go." Welsh shooed the union rep out of his office. "Fraser, you can stay."

Fraser looked a little confused as Thatcher and the Union Rep left the room.

"You were expecting me, Sir?"

"Not really, but I'm glad you came. The CPD Union Rep is selecting officers for a random drug screen and since most of my guys are gone today, Inspector Thatcher here has given us the okay to add you to our list. So, if you would follow Mr. Myer, he'll be performing the test."

"When I'm done, may I have a moment of your time?" Fraser questioned.

"Of course. The Inspector has a few things to discuss about our liaison with the Consulate, but I'm free after that."

"Is there a problem with our program?" Fraser asked Thatcher.

"That is something the Lieutenant and I need to discuss in private."

Fraser nodded. "Understood."

After the drug screening he was given more paperwork than he thought reasonable. The doctor told him his blood sugar was low, and to get something to eat, and he pretended to acquiesce. As soon as he could he returned to Welsh's office. Nobody was answering the door, but when he swung it open he could see not only was the Lieutenant there, Thatcher was back too. She was leaning over the table, in the Lieutenant's face. They were clearly in the middle of an argument. Fraser cleared his throat to announce his presence, even as wondered if he should just step out until they had stopped fighting about - whatever it was that they were fighting about. "Lieutenant," he said, "Sir? I'm sorry, but -"

Thatcher straightened up and wheeled on Fraser.

"Constable Fraser," she pointed at him accusingly. "Could you close the door please?"

Fraser did as he was asked, feeling utterly disoriented. Today was unlike any other day he could ever remember. He was surprised he was on his feet, to be honest, and he hadn't even had time yet to tell Welsh about Jimmy Akers. He looked across at the Lieutenant, wondering if he would give any clue as to why Thatcher was so angry. He couldn't read Welsh's face. The big man was staring fixedly at a piece of paper in his hands. He looked more shocked than anything. "Is something wrong?" Fraser asked. There was a lot of negative energy swirling around the room.

"Constable." Thatcher's mouth was tight and angry. "I require an explanation."

"An explanation for what?" Fraser asked, confused.

Thatcher ripped the paper out of Welsh's hand. "This!"she exclaimed and waved the piece of paper in front of Fraser's face. He took if from her hands and began to read it.

"The subject tests positive for Vicodin. Further tests are needed to identify other chemicals in the sample."

Wait. What? He'd failed the drugs test? Failed?Fraser's brow wrinkled in confusion. How was that possible? This must be someone else's report.

"An explanation for this Constable."

"Clerical error?" Fraser swallowed. That had come out sounding glib. Thatcher picked up on it instantly.

"This is no laughing matter, Corporal. I shall ask again. Do you have an explanation?"

"I - I don't have one." Fraser flinched from his superior's eyes. It was not that he was ashamed - he had nothing to be ashamed of, for heaven's sake, he hadn't done anything - but it was obvious that the Inspector was losing all faith in him. If this mistake was not sorted out soon then Fraser might not just be suspended pending a fitness review. He might lose his job.

"Not even a denial?" Thatcher huffed a sigh. "Well, that's something, I suppose." She clacked her tongue, and stared again at the papers in her hand. "I need not tell you," she said, "how very disappointed I am."

"Sir," Fraser pinched the bridge of his nose. "I honestly can't explain the results. I've been feeling under the weather for some time, I admit that, but I haven't been taking any drugs. A few of Ray's Tylenol for my headache, but nothing illegal, I assure you."

"Oh," she arched an eyebrow. "A denial after all."

"Well, of course I deny it!" Fraser heard his voice sharpen, and tried to reign in his temper. It wouldn't help at this juncture. "I deny it because it isn't true."

"These results suggest otherwise." Thatcher flashed the papers up in the air.

"It's a clerical error." Fraser straightened, settled into parade stance. "Perhaps someone labelled the samples incorrectly. The results came through very quickly after all, and mistakes happen. If you run my phlebotomy and urology again then -"

"Then you'll make sure you pass this time." Thatcher shook her head, looking sad now. "I know how these things work. Fraser -" she placed the drug report on the desk. "I know you've been under a lot of stress lately. I know that your - your home life hasn't been ideal, and I'm sorry that Ray has been - well - that's not my business, but I know things have been hard."

"Sir?" Fraser bit back anger. "With all due respect, I don't feel that my home circumstances have anything to do with you."

Her sympathetic expression went cold again. "Well, generally I would agree. However, if your - relationship difficulties have anything to do with your obvious drug problem, then I think it is my business, don't you?"

" I'm not taking drugs!" Fraser snapped. He just couldn't understand where this was coming from. It didn't help that his head was killing him.

"It says here, Constable, that you've tested positive for Vicodin." She sighed. "Of course," she added. "I may be accusing you prematurely. I should have asked in the first place. Do you have a valid prescription?"

Vicodin? He had seen that on the report. It was ridiculous.

"No, Sir." Fraser swallowed. "In fact, Vicodin is contraindicated in my circumstances. It has never worked for me, other than make me feel sick and give me a headache."

"And do you have a headache now?"

Fraser paused. He did have a headache. For a moment he wondered if -

"That's irrelevant, Sir," he snapped. "Even if I did have a headache, it wouldn't prove anything."

"The Constable makes a valid point," Welsh broke in. Fraser had forgotten his presence, he was so angry and shocked by the Inspector's allegations. "Of everyone in this station, he is the last one anyone would have pegged as drug user. This could simply be a clerical error."

Thatcher glared at Welsh and Fraser, then took a breath, seeming to dial herself back in.

"Granted," she said to Welsh, then looked back at Fraser. "However, you have to admit that you've been acting out of character recently." She shook her head. "The RCMP is not totally heartless. We could offer you help and support, if you would just admit that you need it. But if you don't..."

Fraser hung his head. He really didn't understand. He wished he could reach out for help, but since he had no idea what was wrong with him, how could he ask?

"Constable Fraser." Her voice changed slightly, became more formal. He snapped his head up. "It is my decision that, pending further investigations, you are suspended from duty. We shall investigate, of course, to see if there was any form of clerical error. You shall appear at the Consulate tomorrow in order that our own appointed doctor can retest you. After that, you will be subjected to random drug screening, and expected to pass them before we will consider reinstating you."

"Sir..." Fraser's voice trailed off. In the space of a day, he had discovered that his partner no longer loved him, he had run into Jimmy Akers, and now, it seemed he had lost his job.

Not to mention the fact that Dief was still at the vets. For a humiliating moment, he felt tears rise. He ruthlessly repressed the urge. "Understood."

"God," Welsh shoved his chair back. "What a mess."

"Well," Thatcher snapped. "It's not of my making." She took her purse from the corner of Welsh's desk and turned on her heel. "I understand that you two have matters to discuss. I'll leave you to it. Constable. Tomorrow morning, nine o'clock sharp, I expect you to present yourself for testing."

"Yes, Sir."

With a sharp 'tick-tick' of her heels, the Inspector stalked out of the room, leaving Fraser and Welsh temporarily stunned.

Welsh cleared his throat. "Constable. You've had a bad day. Sit down, before you fall down."

"Thank you, Sir." Fraser dropped into a seat and stared blankly at the wall.

"Firstly, I want you to know that I don't believe the results."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Secondly, I want to say that if I'm wrong, I hope you'd feel that you could trust me."

"If you're wrong?" Oh no, nowWelsh was having second thoughts too.

"I'm just saying that things have been difficult for you for a while now." Fraser flinched. Thatcher must have told him about Ray's betrayal. Welsh was still talking. "The whole thing with this Akers guy for example."

"Oh." Thatcher hadn't told him a thing. Fraser closed his eyes in gratitude. No doubt people would find out soon enough, but for now at least he was spared the humiliation of the pitying glances or the unspoken 'we told you so's.' Fraser pulled himself together.

"Actually," Fraser said, "It's Jimmy who I came to talk to you about."

Welsh made a noise from the back of his throat that sounded like a growl. Apparently, he didn't like Jimmy Akers either. He pushed his leather chair back and moved towards the door. For a moment, Fraser thought the Lieutenant was leaving as well. Who could blame him? Fraser didn't even want to be in his own company at the moment. His world was spiraling out of control around him. He couldn't blame anyone for getting the hell out of the way. Instead, Welsh dropped a hand to his shoulder and gave it a supportive pat. He glanced out into his bullpen and hollered, 'Get to work,' before closing the door and pulling the blinds. There were enough looky-lou's peeking in after Thatcher left that he wanted to have this conversation in private.

Welsh returned to his seat, leaned back and loosened his tie. "I hate ties, Constable. Some days, I hate this job." Welsh scrubbed a hand down his face and let out a long sigh.

Fraser's heart sank and he hadn't even told the Lieutenant anything about his encounter on the street with Jimmy. It felt as though he had no support.

"I did some more looking into Jimmy Aker's parole for you." Welsh played with his tie and avoided eye contact with Fraser. "There was some clerical error that was the cause for his conviction to be overturned."

"How can that be?" Fraser's voice cracked as he spoke. He cleared it and tried again. "He tried to…"

Welsh held up a hand. "You don't have to say it," his voice was sympathetic. "I know what he tried to do. I'm working with the prosecutor to see about a new trial. Get that creep off the street." Welsh shook his head. "He shouldn't be out."

"He approached me on the street, Sir."

" What?" Welsh was already fuming. "When did this happen?"

"He stopped me on my way over here. I had started to walk away from him and he pulled on my arm to stop me."

"He laid his hands on you?" Welsh was agitated with the system, tapping his fingers on his desk.

"In a sense, yes. He was attempting to apologize for what he put…" Fraser hesitated. "What he put Ray and I through."

"Dammit." Welsh smacked his desk with the palm of his hand and Fraser jumped. "I'm sorry, Constable. I can't even imagine how you are feeling."

Fraser didn't know how he was feeling either. His whole world had been tipped upside down and shaken.

Welsh cocked his head to the side. "When did you say this happened?"

"An hour or so ago. On my way to the police station."

The Lieutenant scooted his chair back up to his desk and twirled his thumbs around one another. He rubbed at his nose and made a face. "Are you sure about the time frame? I mean no disrespect, but you have been slightly confused the past few days."

"Of course I'm sure!" Fraser heard his voice snap. "I think I know what time of day it, regardless of how the rest of my life seems to be falling apart."

"Fraser," Welsh's voice was too calm. "That's not possible."

"Of course it's possible. You think I would just make it up?" Fraser's voice was tight.

"I'm not doubting that it happened, I'm questioning your time frame."

Fraser just stared blankly at the Lieutenant.

"Jimmy Akers has been in interrogation room two with Huey since nine this morning."

"That's not possible. I spoke to him." Fraser stood up quickly. "It was this morning," he emphasized by driving a clenched fist into the opposite palm. "He grabbed my arm."

"He's been here all morning, Constable." Welsh didn't know what to think. Fraser was convinced Jimmy had once again, been somewhere he couldn't have possibly been. "I hate to say this, but I think Inspector Thatcher may be right. Not about the drugs, but right that you are not thinking clearly. I think you need some help."

Fraser was speechless. He spun and stormed out of Welsh's office.

Welsh kicked the trash can under his desk. He hated to see Fraser this out of sorts. He couldn't for the life of him figure out what was wrong with him, unless he really was on some drug. He stood up decisively and made his way to the interrogation room where Huey was speaking with Akers. Without knocking, he threw the door open. His heart sank when Jimmy was still there. He was hoping Fraser had been right. He made his apologies and excused himself. Returning to his office, he closed the door and dialed up Ray. He really should know what was going on. Fraser's mental state depended on it because it was obvious he couldn't see for himself that he needed help. Welsh got Ray's voicemail and hung up. He'd try again later.

Ray slung his backpack over his shoulder and slammed the last of his coffee. 'Good to the last drop,' he thought as he tossed the paper cup into a nearby trash bin. He leaned against the wall waiting for Mike to start the meeting before shift. Zippy slipped in beside him and ruffled Ray's hair like one would a small child. Not an easy maneuver for someone that was a good six inches shorter than Ray and overweight.

Ray twisted his head out from under Zippy's sweaty palm and inwardly gagged. The man was a slob from head to toe. It was no wonder his wife left him. Ray was just astonished he'd ever been married in the first place. Unkempt hair, bad breath, torn clothing that exposed too much skin. Ray grimaced. He couldn't understand how the higher ups let him get away with what he wore. But Ray knew he had to play along to get the information he needed if there was a drug problem in the plant. He still hadn't seen anything suspicious with the scrap. As far as he could tell, it all went to a contained area that was padlocked during the entire shift until the last half hour when people started rolling it to the weigh station. If someone was stealing it, he wasn't sure how.

When the night was over, Ray was going to make sure that he was involved in the scrap process. Surely the take-up operator helped with that part of the job as well. And if not, he was going to volunteer for it anyway. He was ready to go home. Home to Chicago. Home to Ben.

"Evening, Spike," Zippy's voice was rough, still full of sleep. "You with me again?" he asked as he started wheezing.

Ray tried not to roll his eyes as the man pulled out an inhaler, shook it a few times and sucked in the contents. He really did have every ailment in the books.

Ray nodded and covered a yawn. He had only been awake an hour himself. "Yep, you're stuck with me again. Mike called me this morning when I got home and told me I could switch to nights."

"That's great," Zippy exclaimed and Ray could almost see him calculating their numbers already. "I bet Shaun's pissed off. Heard him bragging about what a great operator you were from the get-go. I'm glad Mike stole you out from under him." Another puff on the inhaler and Zippy seemed to perk up. "Now that you know what you're doing, we should have a better night tonight."

Ray agreed. "Just don't forget to put the damn locks on, huh?"

"Bet you won't ever do that again," Zippy laughed and then coughed, choking on his own saliva.

Ray made a face and stepped to the side to avoid getting spit on. "Easy there, Killer. You're not going to run me into the ground are you?" Ray rolled a shoulder. His muscles were still so tight. He was hoping they would have loosened up the longer he was awake and moving around. Thank God he didn't have to do this everyday for a living. He was more than ready to head back to Chicago and sit through long boring stakeouts with Fraser.

Mike dismissed the group and Ray followed Zippy back to his line. He should have been paying more attention to what Mike was saying, now that he thought about it, but he was still so tired - and Zippy talked too much. Jeez, he had a whole night of this to look forward to. Ray could have used one of those special white pills just to wake up. For a moment he almost considered it, but knew how hard the crash would be. There would be no way then that he could make it through the rest of the night. Besides, he was a cop. What on earth was he thinking? He'd just have to drink a hell of a lot of coffee. He yawned again and looked around. The previous shift line operator was filling Zippy in on the orders that needed to be run. Zippy mumbled, nodded, coughed and sent the guy on his way with a shoo of his hand.

"Spike," Zippy bellowed from twenty feet away.

Ray was getting his own instructions from the day shift take-up operator. His head snapped up and Zippy was waving for Ray to come over. "Sorry man. That guy has no patience. It's always go go go." The other operator nodded, picked up his own backpack and grumbled something incoherent on his way out.

Ray made his way to the other end of the line to see what Zippy was all worked up about. "You know he was trying to fill me in down there. You don't have to be so rude, man."

Zippy ignored him. "I need you to go get a pallet of these six inch reels and this size skid." He handed Ray a sheet with numbers scribbled on it and pointed in the general direction he was to go. "Adrian will help you." With a flick of his wrist, Zippy sent Ray on his way.

Ray stole a glance behind him and watched as Zippy dropped a finished reel into a trash can and quickly put the lid on. Ray thought that was odd. Certainly they don't want you throwing away full reels of copper wire even if it is scrap. Ray was going to have to keep his eye on that trash can to see what happened to it throughout the shift. Zippy was already handing out drugs, at least to him. Was he also stealing scrap by disguising it as trash? He could easily have several hundred pounds a day just by tossing in a few 'bad' reels throughout the shift and then hauling it off to the dumpster. Maybe Zippy parked close to it, had a pickup truck or something that he conveniently tossed the reels in as he was dumping trash.

When Ray returned, Zippy had the line almost ready to run. Ray leaned on the covered trash can and rolled it a bit. Zippy stared at him from the corner of his eye. "This can feels full. Lazy asses must not have emptied it. You want me to run it to the trash hopper?" Ray asked as he playfully spun it round and round on its wheels. It was heavy already.

"Nah, go get ready at the other end. I'll take care of it when we are up and running."

"You sure?" Ray threw a thumb over his shoulder. "I can be back before you even have the compound running the right color."

"I said I'll get it," Zippy barked and Ray backed off.

"Easy there, Killer. I was just trying to be helpful. You could use a downer today. I'll just go label my boxes while I'm waiting." Ray returned to his end of the line. So much for that idea.

The rest of the shift was pretty much a carbon copy of the day before. There were a few glitches before Ray found his rhythm again. He felt like he was dying, his body hurt so bad. He used to think he was in decent shape, probably couldn't outrun a marathoner if he had to, but felt he could keep up with the average Joes. Today he wasn't so sure. He wanted one of Zippy's wonder pills. Scratch that… he needed one. Hell, he wanted a bunch of them just to make it through the rest of the shift and every one after this one until he solved this case.

That had to be psychological or something. No way you could start craving something after just one taste.

"You're looking a little tired, Spike." Zippy's gruff voice grated on Ray's nerves, which were jangled enough anyway.

"I'm okay," he lied. "You got coffee?"

"Told you yesterday that crap's in the break room." Zippy pulled the Tic-Tac bottle out of his shirt pocket and gave it a little shake.

"Zippy," Mike's deep voice came from behind them. "If you'd brush your damn teeth, you wouldn't need Tic-Tac's." Zippy smiled wide, revealing fuzzy yellow stained teeth. The man had no shame. Mike rolled his eyes disgusted, Ray wanted to gag.

"How's your help?" Mike watched as Ray pulled one finished reel off and popped an empty one effortlessly onto the shaft. "We make a good decision bringing Ray to nights?"

"He's a little rough around the edges, but he's trainable." Zippy smacked Ray on the back. Ray wanted to clock him in the jaw.

Mike just laughed and flexed his muscles. He'd finally found someone that Zippy didn't scare off both with his hygiene and bad manners. "Good, we keep losing help left and right around here. Nice numbers last night you two. Keep it up."

"Thanks," Ray forced out. He wanted to smack the smugness right out of the supervisor.

"Watch how many of those Tic-Tacs you pop, Zip…" Mike warned as strolled away. "You're a diabetic, remember?"

Ray stared in disbelief. Zippy had balls. Did the supervisor know what those white tablets really were?

"Close your mouth," Zippy ordered. "It's unbecoming."

"Does he know what those really are?" Ray asked quietly.

"These?" Zippy held up the container. Ray nodded. He couldn't believe Zippy was flashing them around in plain sight. He opened the top and dumped several into his mouth. Fifteen seconds later, Zippy grabbed his chest and fell onto the top of Ray's make-shift desk, sending boxes and labels to the floor.

"Oh my God…" Ray couldn't think quick enough. He dropped the reel he was holding and it bounced across the floor, unraveling as it made its way across the aisle. He grabbed for Zippy's arm before he tumbled to the floor. Zippy was clutching his chest making wheezing noises. Eyes pinched shut, his mouth gaping wide open.

All of a sudden Zippy popped up and yelled "Gotcha!"at the top of his lungs.

The line crashed and Ray swore. "You fucking asshole!" he slammed his palm into the emergency stop button and leaned against the machine, trying to bring his breathing back under control. "Why the hell would you do that to someone? You about gave mea fucking heart attack."

"They were just Tic-Tacs, Spike." Zippy chortled and patted Ray's cheek. He shoved his chubby hand into his pant's pocket and dug out another container along with a few candy wrappers. He discarded the wrappers and shook the new bottle. "These aren't."

"Jesus," Ray ran his fingers through his spiked hair and pulled on the collar of his shirt. He was having a hard time breathing the thick air. "Don't do that again."

Zippy laughed, dispensed a pill into his hand and tossed it to Ray. "Here, this will help."

Ray planted his hands on his hips and refused to catch the pill. It bounced off his t-shirt and landed on the nearby table in plain sight. Zippy wasn't getting off that easy. "What makes you think I won't go to Mike. Tell him you're feeding me pills?"

"Go ahead," Zippy shrugged nonchalantly. "Who do you think I got them from?" He picked up the pill and tossed it back to Ray who caught it this time. It was evidence after all. "Take ten minutes to calm yourself down and I'll restring the line."

"Yeah, sucks to be you," Ray shot back as he grabbed his water bottle off the table. Under normal circumstances, he would have helped him. Not today. The fake heart attack was enough to put him over the edge.

Zippy just shrugged and smiled wide. "Seeing your face was worth it."

"Fucker." Ray closed his eyes and tried to remember the bigger picture. "You wanna go for a beer after work?"

Zippy was taken aback. After Ray's reaction he was sure the guy wouldn't come back. "I'm a diabetic, remember."

Ray raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "You really gonna go with that?"

"Okay, but just one." Zippy sounded giddy like he had just made his first friend.

"Yeah, can't ruin that girlish figure you've got going on there," Ray kidded and patted Zippy on the cheek. Zippy didn't like it any better than he did. "I'll be back in ten."

"You're not going to help me restring the line?"

"Hell no!" Ray slapped Zippy on the shoulder blade and gave him the smuggest of smiles. "That's all on you this time."

By the end of the shift, Ray had drank enough coffee to give off the impression that he had popped the little white pill. He didn't want to run the risk of not having it for evidence. Again he scolded himself for even considering taking the thing to begin with. He secured it in the liner of his lunch box.

"Ready for that beer?" Ray asked as he pulled his time card out of his wallet.

"You buying?" Zippy enquired.

"I'll buy the first round, you just pick the place."

"Let me just run this trash out to the hopper and I'll meet you at Hunter's. You know where that's at?"

"Yep, drive by it every day." Ray grinned. The place had to be decent, it had a big moose painted on the front wall facing the street. Anything related to Canada had to be good. "You sure you don't want help with that? I mean, you almost died from a heart attack tonight."

Zippy snorted, "No, that was you."

Ray found Zippy in a back corner booth away from the bar. 'Good,' he thought as he ordered himself a beer at the bar before strolling back to the booth. 'At least we aren't out in the open.'

"Hey," Ray stated enthusiastically as he slid across the cheap vinyl seat. "Thank God that shift is over." He pulled a menu from behind the napkin dispenser. "This place have any good pre-breakfast foods?"

Zippy gave Ray the once over and motioned for the waitress. "How do you stay so skinny?"

Ray shrugged and continued to glance over the menu. "Good genes I guess." He pointed to the menu and looked up at Zippy. "Beer battered mushrooms any good?"

"They're decent."

"What can I get for you two?" the dark haired waitress asked. She was wearing jeans that were two sizes too small and Ray wondered how the hell she managed to get them to zip.

"Is it too early for some mushrooms?" Ray asked, replacing the menu to its spot behind the napkins. "And I owe my friend here a beer of his choice."

Zippy's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. Ray wasn't sure if it was his use of the word friend or the word beer. Either way he was hoping he could get a few in him to get the man talking about drugs and stolen wire. The waitress jotted down their order and sauntered away. Zippy's eyes followed her all the way behind the bar.

Ray was inwardly cringing at what Zippy found appealing in a woman. She had on far too many layers of make-up for that time of the morning. Or for any time of the day, really. He forced a grin when Zippy looked back at him.

"Got your eyes on a girl, do ya?"

Zippy blushed. "Is it that obvious?"

Ray nodded and laughed. "Just a little." He took a much needed swig of beer. "She your girl?" he asked as he nodded towards the bar. The waitress was pouring Zippy a draft beer.

"Her name's Claudine," Zippy almost sung her name. "I haven't gotten brave enough to ask her out."

"Maybe today should be your day."

"What if she says 'no'?" Zippy almost looked like he was beginning to panic and Ray wondered if the man had xanax in a tic-tac bottle as well.

"What if she says 'yes'?" he countered. Ray brought his beer bottle to his lips and paused, raised his eyebrows a bit. "You'll never know unless you ask. I may not be a detective, but I didn't see a ring on her finger." Ray motioned for the waitress and she sauntered over in her too tight jeans. Zippy looked like he was about to have a heart attack for real this time.

"What are you doing?" Zippy said in a threatening manner. He was all bark and no bite.

"What can I get for you two? Your mushrooms are next up."

Ray debated in the time it took Claudine to get from the bar to their table how he should play this. He decided not to beat around the bush. As much as he disliked working with Zippy, he didn't want to play on the man's feelings too much.

"I've noticed my new friend here has been eyeballing you since I walked in the door." Ray folded his hands around his beer bottle. "I know how things work where I come from in the big city, but I'm not so sure how they work in little towns like this."

Claudine looked from Ray to Zippy and smiled. "What are you asking?"

"Would you like to go out with my friend here? His name's Zipp-"

"Steve." Zippy cut Ray off and shot his hand out to the waitress. "My name's, Steve," the words tumbled out of his mouth like Dominos on fire.

Ray sat back, took a swallow of his beer and smiled wide. He just cracked the surface. Success. He finished his beer and watched as Zippy and Claudine exchanged information. "Claudine, we'll take another round of beers here."

"Sure thing," she smiled happily never taking her eyes off Zippy. "Coming right up."

"See," Ray said as she walked away. "You don't know until you ask."

"Next Friday, I'm going to take her to the Outback."

"The Outback? What's that?" Surely they weren't going to Australia.

"It's a steakhouse. Claudine loves a good steak."

"Ah," Ray nodded. "A match made in heaven."

Ah.He suddenly missed Fraser. Time to get to the point of coming to the bar.

Ray picked at the label on his beer bottle. "So," he began. "That little pill that you gave me at work-"

"Yeah?" Zippy had his eyes glued to the bar.

"You think you can get me some more?"

Zippy was giddy and Ray rolled his eyes. Maybe this was a mistake. He should have drilled him for information and then set him up with the bartender.

"Zip!" Ray smacked the table to get Zippy's attention.

"Sorry," he said with a sheepish smile. "Thanks, man. I would have never asked her out without your help."

"You're welcome," Ray said sincerely.

"You're my new best friend. You can get as many pills as you want."

"How much?" Ray asked pulling out his wallet.

"Oh, there's no charge."

Wait. What? "How's that?" Ray sat back as Claudine brought over their baskets of breaded mushrooms. Apparently she had been eyeballing Zippy for some time as well because his basket of mushrooms was a lot fuller than Ray's.

"Anything else, you boys need?"

"I'm good," Ray said. "But I think Steve is ready for another round."

Zippy downed the rest of the beer to prove Ray's point. "Thanks, Sweetheart."

Ray wanted to gag. When Claudine was out of earshot he asked again. "What do you mean there's no charge?"

For the first time since stepping into the bar, Zippy gave Ray his almostundivided attention. "You plan on staying my partner for a long time?"

"At work?" Ray wanted to make sure they were on the same page. "Yeah, unless they fire me. I don't plan on going anywhere. You don't kill me, and I'll stick around. But I gotta tell you. I've seen on the other shifts how they run some of those take-up guys and I can't handle that."

"The other shifts don't realize that if you run at a steady pace, you can make more wire. The faster you go, when the line crashes, the bigger the mess it is you have to clean up, therefore taking you that much longer."

"Besides, Mike makes sure that we are the best."

"Why's that?" Ray asked.

"The highest producing shift gets a bonus and the supervisor for that shift gets a really big bonus."

"That's where your little white pill comes in?" Ray was connecting the dots.

"Yep. Mike wants to make sure that we are the best shift."

"So," Ray began. "Tell me about the trash can last night. Why wouldn't you let me empty it?"

Zippy's eyes went wide.

"Come on, Zip," Ray began. "Somebody's gotta pay for those little white pills."

"So I steal a little scrap every now and then. I scrap it out, give the money to Mike and then Mike gets us the pills from his source. He passes them out on Monday and then we all get a big bonus at the end of the week. What are you going to do, turn me in?"

"Hell no. I want in on making some good money. That's what I came out here for." Ray almost felt bad for busting the place. Isn't that what everyone wanted was to make some good money?

"Don't worry. You'll see it on your next paycheck." Zippy motioned to Claudine at the bar. "I'll make sure of it."

"You and Mike close?" Ray asked taking another swallow of beer.

"Brothers."

Ray coughed and almost spit beer on the table. "You and the Incredible Hulk are brothers?"

Zippy shrugged. "Different dads. Different genes."

"Would have never guessed that." Ray popped a mushroom in his mouth and chased it with beer. "We'll have to do this again, Zippy." Ray pulled out his wallet and slapped some money on the table. "But for now, I want to get intimate with my pillow. After last night, I'm exhausted."

"You're leaving already?"

"Dude, we've been here for over an hour and all you keep doing is staring at Claudine over there." Ray patted Zippy on the shoulder. "I'll see you tonight. Don't sit here all day."

"Thank's, Spike." Zippy motioned towards the bar.

"You're welcome."

Fraser slammed the door behind him, not caring for the first time who it bothered. He had had a shitty day to say the least. He found out in the worst way, in front of his boss no less, that Ray had been cheating on him, he ran into that monster Jimmy on the street and couldn't get away from him fast enough, had been suspended for something he knew he wasn't doing and now Lieutenant Welsh thought he needed to get some kind of professional help. He threw his stetson onto the counter and cursed under his breath. How could things have gotten so messed up? How could he have failed a drug test when he wasn't taking anything except Ray's damn Tylenol? Fraser scrubbed a shaky hand over his face. If the damn headache that had been lingering for the better part of a week, would just go away, maybe he could think straight enough to figure out what the hell was going on around him. Fraser sighed and rubbed at his temples.

'You're a cop for God's sake, Ben. Get a hold of yourself.' Fraser knew he hadn't been eating well, hadn't been sleeping very well either now that he thought about it. He couldn't do anything about the mess with Ray until he came home. Fraser rolled his shoulders. This morning when he woke up, he couldn't wait for Ray to come home. Now he was afraid he might punch him in the throat the second he stepped foot into the apartment. For a moment he thought about fleeing, about running away and not having to deal with any of it anymore. He stepped around his over sized sofa and fell onto the cushions. Running away wouldn't solve any of his current problems, just confirm to everyone around him that he was indeed falling apart.

And he wasn't a coward. No, this was his home. If Ray didn't love him anymore, then he could leave.

'Home,' Fraser thought bitterly. 'This isn't what 'home' is supposed to feel like.' It was supposed to be a safe haven, a place to reconnect with your loved ones after a long day outside in the real world. It is supposed to be comfortable and cozy. Not a place where your partner lies to you, goes behind your back to fulfill their personal needs when you no longer seem to satisfy them. Fraser shuddered at the thought of Ray with that woman.How could he?He tried to push the raging thoughts to the back of his head. There was no use dwelling on them now. The phone rang and he ignored it. He wasn't in the mood to speak to anyone, especially Ray.

He stood up to get some water and felt his knees buckle. Fraser steadied himself on the arm of the couch. 'Jesus,' just the thought of Ray being with someone else made him sick. They were supposed to be a duet. He realized how weak he was feeling. It had felt like an eternity since he had anything to eat. The toast at breakfast still felt like it was choking him. No wonder he didn't have an appetite. Fraser forced himself into the kitchen and reprimanded himself for not taking better care of himself. He rubbed at the throbbing pain in his shoulder and tried his hardest to ignore it. Ray was right, he probably should have gone to the hospital and had it looked at when he had tripped over Ray's gym bag.

Memories flooded his head as Fraser stared at the contents of the fridge. He slammed the door shut and decided to go to bed instead. He didn't care that it was only seven in the evening. He flicked off the kitchen light, dead bolted the door. When he passed the breakfast bar he hesitated and was about to plug in the red chili lights just as he did every night before he and Ray went to bed. Instead, he took hold of the cord and ripped them down, tossing them to the floor. The small nails holding the lights in place tinkered against the counter and wood flooring. Fraser kicked the lights under a bar stool and retreated to the bedroom in a huff. One less thing to remind him of Ray.

His eyes watered. "Damn bedroom lighting is too bright," he grumbled to himself, wiping his eyes roughly with the back of his hand. He pulled shut the bedroom curtains, slammed the door shut, and dropped onto the bed. God, he was tired. Lying back, he draped his arm over his eyes, cutting out what little light there was in the room. It didn't help. The bed smelled of him and Ray. He felt like he was in a tomb.

'I hate this,' he thought. The bed felt like it was rocking, and the nausea was worse. He twisted on the sheets - he was sweating and itchy all over. "I'll never get to sleep," he said aloud.

He must have slept though. When he opened his eyes, Ray was in the room. He didn't exactly look like Ray though. Maybe that was a symbol of something. Fraser had thought he'd known Ray, but it turned out Ray wasn't who he thought he had been at all.

The figure was at the foot of the bed now, smiling down at Fraser, looking pleased with himself and cruel. He was dressed in Ray's clothes, but he smelled of cigarettes. This was definitely a nightmare. You couldn't have nightmares when you were awake, could you?

The Ray who wasn't Ray stepped into the bedroom smiling. He didn't look anything like Ray - not really. He was the same height, he had similar spiked up hair, but he looked like - Fraser squeezed his eyes shut.

Not this nightmare again. Not Jimmy.

"Hello, Benton. Did you miss me?"

Ray jiggled his key into the lock of his apartment door and finally got it to work. He thanked the heavens above. He had spent over two hours at the bar with Zippy. He had gotten some valuable information that he was hoping to use to solve the case. He checked his phone and discovered he had four missed calls from Welsh. He panicked and quickly returned his boss's call. Welsh explained the few things he knew that were going wrong with Fraser. He had failed the second drug screen at the Consulate and Inspector Thatcher had suspended him until further notice.

"What the hell is going on with him?" Welsh asked in a tired voice.

"I honestly don't know." Ray had sat down on the springy mattress. Fraser had been off for weeks. Irritable, foul mood, constant headache. He had to be on something or there was really something physically wrong with him and he needed to see some kind of specialist. "What drug was it again?" Ray asked as he grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. He shouldn't have had that third beer but he was trying to pry Zippy for information and it had worked.

"Vicodin and a small concoction of other things according to the Inspector's report."

"Jesus. Vicodin?" Ray paused. "You sure about that?" He swallowed two Tylenol and rubbed his temples.

"Showed up on two drug panels run by two separate agencies. I'm pretty sure it's accurate."

Ray knew he could trust his boss. "Vicodin was never Fraser's drug of choice. Why would he switch to something that doesn't work for him?"

"What are you talking about Detective?" Welsh's voice sharpened. "Are you telling me that Fraser is an addict?"

"Was." Ray corrected as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Back when he was recovering from Vecchio's bullet. But he's been clean for years."

"Once an addict, always an addict." Welsh's voice was heavy with disappointment. "I can't believe I fell for it again."

"What do you mean, Sir?"

"I just mean that I went out to bat for Fraser, swore up and down he wasn't taking drugs. If I'd known that he'd had a problem maybe I could have intervened before it got this bad." He hefted a sigh. "Well. Next time I'll know not to trust anyone, no matter how clean I think he is."

"Sir, I know it looks bad, but Fraser's been so careful. He knows how rough it was last time, he'd never put himself through that again."

"Maybe he couldn't help himself."

"It just doesn't make sense. Like I said, Vicodin never worked for Fraser. It didn't even help with pain."

"You can't trust what addicts say. I don't mean to be harsh, but maybe he lied. Maybe he chose that one because it was available. Maybe it started innocently." He paused. "I don't know. Didn't you have a prescription for it when you dislocated your shoulder? Had he recently hurt himself?"

"Shit," Ray muttered and recalled Fraser tripping over his bag. Damn his boss had a good memory. "Fraser wouldn't sneak my pills."

"Do you still have them?"

"No." The only way to help Fraser was to be upfront and honest. "I can't find them. But that doesn't mean…"

Welsh sighed through the phone. "Ray, I have great respect for Constable Fraser, but he needs help. He's hallucinating, seeing people where they couldn't possibly be."

"What are you talking about?" Ray's voice held an edge.

"He keeps saying that he's been seeing that Jimmy Akers. But I've checked with his parole officer and he couldn't have possibly been where he said Fraser said he was."

"Ben wouldn't just make that up, Sir." And then Ray remembered the night he had come home. Fraser had freaked out during the storm. Was about to shoot a non existent squirrel.

"Of course he wouldn't make it up, Detective," Welsh was getting testy. "I said he hallucinated, not that he lied."

"Yeah." Ray hung his head miserably. "Yeah, I get there's a difference."

The silence on the phone grew heavy. In the end Welsh broke it. "What are you going to do about it, Detective? Your partner is falling apart. He won't accept help from anyone else - he won't even admit that he needs it. What do you suggest?"

"Can you get me back in here if I leave?"

"You're going to leave an undercover assignment?"

"What the hell do you want me to do?" Ray snapped. "Fraser needs me more than this damn job needs me. Who the fuck cares if wire's being stolen or drugs are being taken. I need to be there for Fraser. I have to find out what's wrong with him."

"Jesus, there's a drug problem there too?"

"Supposedly they are linked." Ray grabbed his keys and his wallet as he headed for the door. "I'm coming home."