I keep remembering more stuff, so I'm writing it as it comes. I'll wait a while to post it though, so new people have a chance to get on the wagon before the story's too long.

I've got nine readers now, two in France! I'd like to hear from you guys. If you type your review in French, Fraser can translate it for me.

Chapter 3: Bonding

Maria started to get the kids ready for bed, and I decided to make myself scarce before anyone asked me for a bedtime story. I got stuck reading Goodnight Moon several times in a row once. I hate that book.

I said goodnight to Ma Vecchio and Franny and went out on the porch. I wondered if Vecchio was planning to drive Fraser back to the consulate. Probably.

I sat at the front of the porch with my feet on the steps. It was a mild night and I could see a few stars. I thought about how it had felt when I first saw the view of the night sky in Canada. I had always heard that there were millions and millions of stars, way too many to count, but I had no concept of it until then. The few I could see from the Vecchio porch seemed pretty pathetic in comparison. I missed the huge, shimmering light show.

After a couple of minutes, the door opened and Vecchio came out alone. I was surprised, but I didn't ask where Fraser was.

"Thought you left," he said.

"Yeah... I'm going," I said, but I didn't get up. I was full and didn't want to move at the moment. I guess I was a little lonely, too.

He hung around like he wanted something, or maybe just wanted me to leave. Finally, he said, "If I tell you something, can you keep your mouth shut?"

I looked up at him. "Yeah..." I said. Then, "Wait, to who?"

"Everybody. It's not about a case. Not directly."

"Okay..."

He came to sit down at the other side of the steps. He rubbed his hands together, looked up at the sky, then put his head down and sighed. "I quit smoking a long time ago," he told me.

It wasn't what I expected, though I didn't know what I had expected.

"I never wanted to go back to it, but Armando Langoustini, he smoked. If I didn't smoke, his goons would pick up on it right away. One of the first things I did as Langoustini was tell his goons I thought I should cut back, but that only helped a little. People who wanted to get on my good side kept bringing me my 'favorite cigars.' Offering me a cigarette when they lit up. If the atmosphere was right, I had to take it. Stuff like that."

I nodded. "You had to be convincing."

"Yeah. But, uh... Ma and them don't know. It would break Ma's heart—she wouldn't understand. And she was the one who really pushed me to quit in the first place. She was so proud of me when I made it through a month of not smoking, and then a year. And I never lied to her about it once. But now..."

"I get it," I said. "You're going to quit again, right? So, why worry her in the meantime?"

"Exactly," he said, sounding relieved. He got out a pack of cigarettes. "So, you mind?"

I shook my head. "I had a friend in high school... hooked when he was fifteen."

"Eh, they're terrible." He lit a cigarette. "I get this brand because it's supposed to be kind of sweet and less tar-y and not smell as bad. So far, no one's said anything, but I don't think I can quit fast enough before one of them notices. I gotta move out."

"You can't just smoke when you're away from home?"

"Mm-mm. Can't go that long yet. Besides, I haven't told Fraser, either."

That flat-out shocked me. I never thought he'd confide something to me before telling Fraser. "Why not?"

"Eh, I'm afraid he'd start lecturing me or outlining a five-step program, or reciting all the nasty stuff these things do to you. Or worse—I'm afraid he'd give me that look. You know the one."

"That 'How could you do this, I thought you were my friend' look?" I ventured.

He sighed deeply. "That's the one. What did you do?"

"Huh?"

"If you know the look, you must o' done something."

I winced and looked at my shoes. "I... I hit him."

For the third time that day, I felt his stare on me. "You what?"

I felt myself getting hot under the collar. "To be fair... I warned him I was going to. Like five times. Seriously, five freakin' times."

The awkward silence lasted a few seconds. Then he said, "He doesn't hear so good sometimes."

"Like his wolf," I muttered.

Another silence; then, to my surprise, I heard him laugh. "Him and that wolf," he said.

I smiled. For a moment, I'd been afraid we were about to have a fight because I'd hit his best friend. It seemed I was wrong. "So, when did you see the look? When you shot him?"

"Did your homework, huh?" he said after a beat.

"Well, I was supposed to be you. I memorized where you were born, the names of your family members, stuff about your old cases... Pretty much your whole file and then some."

He did a slow nod. Bob, bob, bob. "Well, good. Good job."

Before I could react to that, he went on.

"Yeah, he gave me a version of the look then. Not because I shot him, but because I stopped him. Stopped him from leaving with a chick who was going to ruin his life. He didn't blame me in the end, but I couldn't shake it for a long, long time. Felt really guilty."

"Same," I said. "I mean, I let him punch me, but of course he didn't want to."

"Nah, that's not his style. He'd rather leave you suffering in your guilt than let you get back on even ground. Oh, I don't think it's intentional. I think he genuinely believes that getting even isn't important and that forgiveness is divine and all that crap. He just doesn't get it."

I shrugged. "What are you gonna do? You can't explain the American bro code to a Mountie."

He snickered. "Nope."

"Hey, uh... I was wondering about your brother, Paul. Your mom said he runs a fashion business in New York?"

"Yeah. He does all right. He's not rich, but he's living his dream."

"Are you on good terms?"

"Sure, I guess."

"But you haven't spoken to him in years."

He breathed out a stream of smoke. "It's not that I'm not speaking to him. I've just had nothing to tell him. And I guess he's had nothing to tell me." He said it lightly enough that I thought it might be true.

"Maybe it's because I'm an only child, but that seems weird to me."

"Eh... I got two sisters here, and I doubt having Paulie around would make my life with them any easier. We're okay together, but we're okay apart, too."

I thought that over a little. "What about Fraser?"

"What about Fraser?"

"Were you okay apart? When you were undercover?"

He put out his cigarette, waited until it was cool, sealed it in a plastic bag and put it in his pocket. "I missed him," he said finally. "Missed my family. Being away from Paulie was nothing new, but everyone else... yeah. I was okay, but nothing was the same. And there were a few times I didn't know how to keep going. Living the life of a rich low-life playboy was almost fun, but not seeing a familiar face was hard.

"When Fraser was in Canada without me, I missed him every day. I kept waiting for him to walk into the precinct, ready to go. And then I had to leave before he got back, and it wasn't safe to explain things over the phone. That sucked. But then when I was in Vegas, since everything was different, that helped me miss people a little less. I guess I missed everyone as part of a package deal with my normal routine, you know? I really felt like I lost myself for a while."

He got out a pack of chewing gum and put a stick in his mouth before offering it to me. I took one and started chewing.

"Was it weird coming back to Chicago?" I asked.

"Hell, yeah. So weird. It was like going someplace I'd only seen in dreams. Freaked out when I saw Fraser again. It's like when you've met two people but you didn't think they knew each other, and then you see them together. That feeling times ten."

"You kept your cool pretty well."

"Not without effort, kid."

We were getting along so well, I couldn't resent his calling me "kid."

"You did well not to give the game away, once Fraser recovered."

"Thanks. It was pretty weird. I wasn't a hundred percent sure you were the real Ray Vecchio because I'd only seen pictures of you and you didn't have a mustache... I was just going by Fraser's body language. He was acting like a deer in the headlights, but I could tell that was just for the thugs. He actually seemed happy to be walking to another room to get shot, so I knew it would be okay."

"Heh heh. I'll be tellin' that story the rest of my life."

"Me, too."

"Hey, um..." He scooted a little closer to me. "While we're talking about this stuff, now's a good time to mention that there are still some mob people interested in whacking me. Not all of them know the real Langoustini is dead, and even if they do, some of them might think it's worth-while to take me out in case I remember something about them later. Which is possible, I might add. I couldn't take detailed notes, so I had to rely on my memory a lot, and a year/year and a half is a lot of information."

I hadn't thought about the possibility that his life could still be in danger. "Have there been any threats or anything?"

"Nah, nothing like that. But something tells me if someone is gunning for me, I won't know 'til it hits me."

"And they won't put you in a safe house or anything if there's no evidence of a threat."

"I wouldn't wanna be, but no. So... keep your eyes open, okay? I don't wanna be paranoid, but I also don't wanna be dead."

"Yeah."

"And don't tell Fraser."

"Why not?"

"Because one, he'd worry, and two, he's got great instincts—chances are, he'll be the first to notice anyone after me, whether I tell him or not."

I couldn't argue with that.

The door opened and Maria's voice said, "Hey, Ray... Oh! Ray, you're still here."

We both knew she had started out speaking to her brother and ended speaking to me.

"Yeah... I was about to get going," I said, standing. My back hurt from sitting there so long without support.

"Oh, well little Tony really, really wanted you to read him a bedtime story. I was going to get Ray to do it..." she nodded at Vecchio, "...but he really wanted you."

I closed my eyes. "Is it Goodnight Moon?"

"No; Hop On Pop."

"Okay... but only one time. That's it."

"Thank you!"

"Don't thank me."

Maria grabbed me as I entered the doorway and kissed my cheek. "Thank you!" she said again, grinning.

I rolled my eyes.

I went up to little Tony's room and went to sit on the edge of his bed. He was about seven, dark-haired, bright-eyed and adorable. "Hey, you."

"You didn't leave!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, not yet, but we gotta make this quick, okay?" I said seriously. "Just one story."

"Okay," he agreed.

I started reading the Dr. Seuss book kind of fast, but then I slowed down and let him look at each of the pictures. I should have been home by then, but I really loved these kids. We got giggling over the "Stop! You must not hop on Pop!" part.

When I finished the book, Tony sat up and gave me a hug. "Thanks, Uncle Ray," he said.

"You're welcome, kiddo." I patted his back.

I saw a form in the doorway and glanced up to see Vecchio peeking in. He looked kind of wistful, and I realized it must have been a bummer for him to miss over a year of his Nieces' and nephews' lives. He smirked at me like, He's a doll when he's sleepy, you know? And I smiled back like, I know, right?

"Good night," I said, pulling Tony's covers up to his chin.

"Will you say prayers with me?" he asked.

I wasn't really religious and didn't feel comfortable pretending for him. "Why don't you let your real uncle do that," I suggested, looking back at Vecchio.

"Okay."

He came into the room and took my place on the edge of the bed. "Hey, Kowalski?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you go ahead and call me Ray? I mean, everyone else has to use our last names to distinguish us, but I don't call myself by my first name too often, so you'll know I'm talking to you, and vice versa, right?"

"Yeah, that makes sense." I slipped out quietly and went to find Fraser.

I hadn't made any headway with Franny, but I felt better about my double than I had since I met him.

It ain't over. There's more. Lots more. Stay tuned and don't forget to comment or even ask questions if you want. ~Ray K.