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In the dark, in the flashes of red and blue from the police cars parked around them, it was difficult to tell which of the dark places on Ray's face were bruises, which were ash and soot, and which were simply the shadows of exhaustion. Each would require unique attention and care: the bruises, a cold compress and possibly acetaminophen; the ash marks, a warm washcloth; and the shadows ... well. There was little that Fraser could do for the shadows. Still less could be done about the haunted, defeated look in Ray's eyes, plainly visible even in the dim light.
The wail of sirens had faded, leaving only the static chatter of radios and the low murmuring voices of the lingering fire fighters, police officers, EMTs, and reporters. All kept a safe distance from Ray, perched awkwardly on the rear bumper of his car, who had angrily waved away anyone trying to question him, tend to his injuries, or put him in front of a camera. Fraser skirted the unwanted attention by sticking close to the side of his partner -- which also allowed him to keep an eye on Ray's injuries.
"Ray," Fraser began, then hesitated, wondering how to phrase his next words: that there was nothing more for them to do at the scene, that the young Ms. Alvarez was on her way to the hospital, that she would certainly survive her ordeal (if not unscathed), and that her abductor was on his way to a cell. The best thing for Ray now would be to go home and sleep for the first time in days, although Fraser wasn't certain that Ray would agree. He expected Ray to put up a fight, to insist on following either the ambulance or the squad car, to see the case through to the very end, although no such end was in sight.
But Ray surprised him. "Let's go home," he said, before Fraser could continue. His voice was tired but firm, leaving no room for argument, even if Fraser had wanted to dispute the issue. Ray punctuated the remark by pushing himself away from the GTO and striding purposefully around to the driver's side. He was inside the car with the door closed before Fraser could even manage to voice his assent.
They were silent on the drive back to Ray's apartment. While Ray faced unflinchingly forward, both hands gripping the wheel, Fraser studied the tension in Ray's face, the set of his jaw, the subtle lines that hadn't been there a year ago. His fingers ached to reach across the space separating them and touch some part of Ray -- his hunched shoulder, his bended knee -- but he held back.
Ray flipped on a lamp and made a beeline for the beer in his refrigerator, dropping his keys onto the counter on the way. He wordlessly handed Fraser a cold bottle identical to his own, and although Fraser rarely indulged, he was unwilling to protest. Who knew how Ray might take it in his state? Besides, if Ray wanted Fraser to join him in a drink, the least he could do was accept the generosity and silent request for camaraderie.
Ray peeled off his jacket, dropped it unceremoniously on the kitchen floor, leaned back against the counter, and took a long swallow from the bottle. Fraser noticed more soot marks -- or perhaps bruises -- on Ray's neck. The dark stains on Ray's shirt were more easily identified, and Fraser had to remind himself that the blood had come from little Gina Alvarez, not from his partner.
Ray's wounds were harder to see with the naked eye.
A low growl emanated from Ray's midsection, audible even from some distance away. "You should eat something," Fraser said, wondering when Ray's last meal had been, and knowing that his last decent meal was likely ancient history.
But Ray did not seem to hear him. He held the beer bottle absently by its neck and gazed vacantly at the opposite wall. "He burned her," Ray murmured to no one in particular. "Son of a bitch burned her. She was just a kid. Now she's gonna be in surgery for hours, physical therapy for months, maybe years ..." He brought the bottle to his lips again and swallowed with obvious discomfort. "Her life's never going to be the same."
"If you hadn't figured out where he'd taken her, she would have died, Ray."
Ray grimaced but didn't look in Fraser's direction. "I should've gotten it sooner. I should've gotten it before he could torch the place. You would have figured it out if you'd been there."
Although Fraser knew that Ray sometimes thought of him as something akin to a superhero, it hurt to hear him compare himself to Fraser that way. "You don't know that," Fraser said. "I'm not from Chicago; I don't know the city anywhere near as well as you do. I would have been just as helpless as the other detectives. But not you, Ray. You found her. You saved that child's life. You are an excellent policeman --"
Ray suddenly shoved himself away from the counter, the gesture mimicking his earlier abandonment of the bumper of his car. "Oh, god, here we go again," he muttered. "Benton Fraser, Mountie cheerleader."
"Ray, I only want you to know that --"
Ray set his half-empty bottle down on the counter, hard. It made a sharp sound as it hit the surface, at the same moment that Ray shot Fraser an equally hard look. "Can it, Fraser. You know damn well that if it was you in my position, you'd be feeling the exact same way. Worse, even. If that's possible," he mumbled.
"Perhaps," Fraser said, putting his own unopened bottle aside and moving close enough to Ray that he could reach out and touch him if he wanted to. "But I would also be willing to listen to reason. To let you tell me just what I'm trying to tell you right now."
"Bullshit. You wouldn't listen to a word of it. Most stubborn man on the planet."
Fraser smiled. "Then you should know better than to try to out-stubborn me now."
That seemed to catch Ray off-guard, and Fraser noticed the hint of a reluctant smile, however fleeting, on Ray's lips, just before he turned his back. "Point," Ray admitted.
Ray's shoulder blades stood out beneath the worn, thin cotton of his t-shirt, and the slender patch of skin between the shirt's collar and Ray's hairline was difficult to resist. But why try to resist it? Fraser stepped forward and put his hands on Ray's arms, just below his shoulders, and leaned in to kiss the nape of Ray's neck. Ray's head immediately dropped forward, giving Fraser access to even more skin. Ray sighed. Fraser wrapped his arms around Ray and pulled him slightly backwards until Ray was leaning against him, his back against Fraser's front.
"I just keep seeing her face," Ray said softly, reclining against Fraser, "and thinking that I should have figured it out sooner."
"I know," Fraser murmured to Ray's ear, which was conveniently situated very near his own mouth. "But you did your best, and it was more than anyone else had done. Gina Alvarez will live because of your excellent work."
Ray was quiet and thoughtful in Fraser's arms. Much as it pained him to know that his partner was hurting, Fraser couldn't help feeling selfishly grateful for the privilege of simply holding Ray, whose mercurial personality rarely allowed him to be still. Fraser's own habit of isolating himself from human contact had made such intimacies a rare occurrence for many years. Ray felt warm and strong in his arms; even through the residual smells of sweat and fire, his scent was familiar and welcoming. Fraser couldn't stop himself from hoping ... but he stopped that train of thought. Ray was clearly not in the mood to humour Fraser's recently awakened libido.
He had to reassess that view a moment later when Ray, still with his back to Fraser, arched his neck and turned his head enough to let his lips brush against Fraser's in a chaste but promising kiss. Ray relaxed and let his head fall on Fraser's shoulder.
"I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight," he said.
Fraser made a non-committal noise that he hoped was encouraging.
"You got any ideas about how we could pass the time?"
Fraser felt Ray's smile against the side of his neck and he couldn't help smiling in response. "We could go over the finer points of curling strategy," he offered.
Ray chuckled, low and dry. "Well, that's one way to knock me out, I guess. Be sleeping like a baby ..." He stopped and shifted slightly. Fraser felt the smile drain from his face, knowing just what Ray was thinking: about Gina Alvarez, barely more than a baby herself, who would probably never sleep soundly again. So much violence in such a short time on earth, but Ray had been a Chicago police officer for nearly twenty years -- how many Ginas had he met, saved, or failed to save in time?
"Ray," Fraser said, with no idea what to say next -- some senseless babble about duty and honour, no doubt, which would only leave Ray frustrated and angry with him for not understanding.
But Ray surprised him again, turning around in Fraser's arms and wrapping his own arms around Fraser's neck.
"Distract me," he said.
Fraser distracted him. Fraser spent the better part of an hour spreading Ray out on his bed and trying his very best to distract the hell out of him. And somewhere between sucking Ray's beautiful cock down his throat and fucking Ray hard enough to leave fingerprints on his hips and scrape paint off the wall behind the bed, they both managed to forget, for a moment, about Gina Alvarez and the fire they were too late to prevent, and about every Gina before her.
In the morning, Fraser woke to see Ray hovering over him, a steaming mug in his hand. Finding Ray awake before him was a shock, but a glance at the circles under Ray's eyes indicated that despite Fraser's best efforts, Ray hadn't slept as well as he'd hoped.
At the hospital, by daylight, Gina's injuries appeared far less severe than they had the night before, although Fraser knew the psychological damage would be invisible and much slower to heal. Ray's own mood, on the other hand, seemed to improve greatly upon seeing her, and although he was shy and awkward when Gina's tearful, elated mother kissed him on the cheek, Fraser could tell that he was quietly pleased.
They bought a balloon and a bouquet of assorted flowers, which they left with the family. On their way out the door, Fraser was startled to feel Ray take his hand and squeeze it gently.
Fraser looked at him, awash in affection. "She looked well," he said inanely.
"Yeah," Ray answered, sparing Fraser a small smile. "She'll be all right," and as he squeezed Fraser's hand again for releasing him, Fraser realized that it was true of Ray, as well.