PART THREE

*** *** ***

The precinct maintained a protective presence around Mary McPherson for the first week after Mendoza's arrest, and after that time the detective team decided, with her concurrence, that she was in no immediate danger. Jimenez' wanted status had hit the press, and his people now knew without a doubt that the police had all the witness they needed in Mendoza.

Ben stopped in to see her with some regularity, occasionally accompanied by Ray or Stan. The shop had been restored with the insurance money after the break-in; she had a more sophisticated alarm system and was slowly working on replacing the handmade jewelry collection. Ben confessed to Ray that he had mentioned the place to both Fran and Elaine, and they had popped in on lunch hour one day, as much out of curiosity as in response to his suggestion. They spread word of it to friends of their own, and soon Mary had a steady trickle of new clientele, several of whom placed orders for commissioned pieces.

"Jeez, Benny, " Ray had said. "You didn't need to do that. She didn't seem to be havin' any trouble gettin' business, before this happened."

"I know I didn't, Ray," Ben had replied, smiling, and they had left it at that.

Ray had not, of course, missed the implications in Mary's manner towards Fraser, which continued to be obvious to the casual observer. He watched Benny, curious, but while the Mountie was unfailingly polite, interested in what happened to her, and seemed to enjoy her company, it went no further than that. He appeared to be content to visit her in her shop, and spent the majority of his free time with...them.

At their mutual heartfelt invitation, he had taken to spending most evenings in the apartment. The three of them cooked together, making a hilarious mess of Stan's tiny kitchen and then cleaning it up, poking fun at each other's culinary efforts. They watched the Cubs, groaned, sighed, threw popcorn at the screen. On particularly warm evenings they strolled around the streets, wolf loping along, listening to Fraser's tales of the Northwest Territories or old war stories from Ray's early years as a detective.

One warm night about ten days after Mendoza's arrest, Stan's leg was bothering him a bit. He elected to stay in with it elevated on the couch while the other two went for a walk outside. "Bring back some ice cream! Triple Chocolate Death."

Ray and Ben found themselves on a bench in a deserted, secluded area of a local park, watching the sunset, talking back and forth about utterly inconsequential things. After twenty minutes or so, Ben shot him a shy smile.

"Ray, I--I have been meaning to ask you. What did you think when Stan told you what I'd written to him, about you? I hope you weren't made--uncomfortable." He was visibly blushing.

Ray stared back at him in confusion. "Stan doesn't talk to me about--things you tell him, Benny."

Fraser's eyes widened. "Do you mean to say he never showed you the letter I sent him, while I was away?"

"He wouldn't do that, Fraser, it was private."

"Oh my. Oh, dear. I've just naturally assumed--hmm." He fell silent.

"*Benny?*"

"Ahhh, yes. Well. I suppose I must tell you, now." Ben folded his arms across his chest, stared down at the tips of his shoes.

"Tell me what?"

"Oh, it's nothing, Ray."

"Nothing?"

"Well, nothing much. It's just that--oh dear. I was--I was in love with you, Ray, for most of the time we were partners. If you never knew that, you--you should. Oh, my."

"Sweet Jesus Christ," Ray said before he could stop himself, and slumped back on the bench, his head spinning.

All this time, Stan had known this. Yet there had been no jealous scenes on his part, not a shred of displeasure at the idea of his lover spending time with Fraser. In fact, he had been plainly eager for the two of them to renew their friendship. The depth of his partner's trust and belief in their relationship struck him anew, and he felt a slow wave of love and something like pride swelling in his heart.

Fraser was looking at him, the blue eyes uncertain. "Ray? Perhaps I shouldn't have spoken. I'm sorry, but--"

"No, Fraser, I'm glad you did, I'm just--Jesus. Next time you're gonna drop a bombshell how about a little warning, okay?"

"Well, I thought you already knew, Ray. Or at least--suspected?" The unrelenting eyes were probing Ray's face.

Ray shook his head slowly. "I couldn't figure you out, Fraser. You were too much like some kind of--I don't know, it was like you came from some country that wasn't even on the map. You were just too different. I loved you, but I didn't understand you. I--"

"You...loved me."

Ray turned his gentle hazel eyes into Ben's face and gave him a wistful, affectionate smile. "Hell yeah, Benny. Forever, feels like."

Fraser glanced away from him, tilted his head to one side, frowning thoughtfully. "Might I ask in--in what way?"

"You know what way."

"Ohh--" He closed his mouth abruptly. Ray raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

Ben cleared his throat. "Well, I don't use profanity, Ray, but I rather felt like it just at that moment. Impulse has passed."

"Oh, for god's sake, Fraser!" He grinned, shook his head. "I think you're entitled to an 'oh hell!' once in a while."

Fraser's mouth curved in a rueful smile. "It would tarnish my Mountie image, Ray."

Ray shot him a look. "Haven't seen too much of the Mountie, lately."

"He's still around." Ben frowned thoughtfully, contemplating his toes again. The sky glowed orange, the shadows darkening and lengthening.

"Hey, Benny. Would you tell me honestly how you feel about all this? I'd tell *you*, but my brains are still scrambled, here."

Ben lifted his head, gazed into the distance. "I'm all right, Ray. I was--I was upset for a short time, but I'm not anymore. I don't really know why. Well, I have an idea." He dropped his eyes, lifted them to Ray's face. "It's--it's the two of you. You've made me--I almost feel a part of it, Ray. I'm closer to you both now than I ever was with either of you while we were partners. It's been good for me."

"Is that what you want? To be close to us? I'm askin' because--"

"I know." Ben's smile was wry. "Doesn't exactly fit in with the Ben Fraser you used to know, does it."

"Benny, I always knew we were good friends. I trusted you with my life; I knew you'd do anything for me. But there were times, when I thought you were--when I *knew* you were hurting, or needed someone to talk to, and I always hoped that someday you'd choose me. I used to think it was my fault, that I didn't know the right way to talk to you. And it hurt me, a little, to think you didn't need me. That you didn't trust me enough to let me help you."

"It wasn't your fault, Ray." Ben's voice was slightly strained; Ray deliberately did not look at him. "And I did trust you. I just didn't trust myself."

He did not explain further and Ray did not press him. They sat silently for a minute, and then Ben shifted position, drawing his feet in, leaning over slightly with his elbows on his knees. "Ray."

"Yeah, Benny."

"Thank you."

Ray had to smile. "For what?"

"For a lot of things. I hadn't expected we'd still be friends at all, after--"

Ray closed his eyes. "Fraser, I was an asshole last spring. You couldn't have showed up at a worse time, I was angry, I was confused, I was so fucking frustrated. A year of my life and you almost knocked it all down the drain, and I *know* it wasn't your fault, but for a while I couldn't see that. And then--" he drew a deep, trembling breath, felt his jaw tensing. "You took off up there with--with him, and I was stuck in that hospital, and when you got back it was like--I thought we'd have all the time in the world, Benny, to put it back together. I kept meaning to talk to you, and then you just disappeared. I didn't realize you were going to go away like that. You'd think I would have learned a lesson, but--"

"*Ray.* It's all right. I understand. I was afraid I'd done something..." He sighed, shook his head. "I never heard from you after you disappeared. Well, except for a postcard." He smiled. "It meant a lot to me, but then--"

"Ahh, Benny, you don't know what it was like. It was--" He shook his head, gazed up at the purpling sky. "I'll tell you about it, someday. If you want to hear. But not tonight."

"I understand, Ray." His smile was real. "I would like to hear...someday." He paused. "I suppose we should be getting back soon, but...while we're out here..."

Ray chuckled. "Yeah, while we seem to be spilling our guts..."

"Quite so, Ray. Is there anything else you want to know before we go?"

"Yeah, I guess there is." His tone was suddenly serious, and Fraser folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes, waiting. Somewhere in the far-off trees, a bird trilled, then was silent.

Ray asked simply, "Benny, are you in love with him?"

And Fraser answered, "Yes, Ray."

Ray stared into the gathering shadows, remembering a night not so long ago, when he had asked another man that question, and received the same answer in return. He turned troubled eyes into Ben's face.

Surprisingly, the Mountie was smiling gently at him. "Ray, thank you for asking that. You--you deserved to know."

Ray shook his head, frankly amazed. "Benny, it's me who should be thanking you. I can't even imagine what it must have taken for you to tell me that."

"It doesn't require any particular effort to tell the truth, Ray. It's lying that's difficult."

"For you, maybe, Benny." He shifted closer. "You just said you were all right with this. I don't--"

"That is also the truth, Ray. Do you think--do you think I would spend time with the two of you as I have been, if it were difficult for me?"

"You're not jealous of us?"

Ben looked down at his hands. "Not in the way you probably think. I'm envious of what you have, but I'm not jealous of either one of you. It took me a little while to figure that out, but I'm pretty sure of it now. Ray, I would never--I do hope you're not worried about me, ahh, that is, with--"

Ray put up a hand. "No."

"Ray, he's...you *have* him. It's really quite as simple as that. It would never even occur to me to think that I could change that. I knew it almost immediately. And since then...I've seen the way he looks at you. And it's not the way he used to...used to look at me." Suddenly, he laughed. "I suppose you're thinking how odd it is to hear *me* going on about this. As if I were any kind of authority on--on relationships. You know, Ray, that I only really ever had one. And that--" He stopped, and Ray could all but hear the doors slamming in his mind, cutting off the train of thought. He felt an almost physical pain in the region of his heart.

"Look, the only reason I brought this up was so that I could find out if we were--if we were hurting you. It's the last thing I want. I know you know that, but we don't--I can't read you, Benny. I can't *tell* what you're feeling. You have to tell *me,* if you ever want to stop seeing us...or stop seeing us together."

"I...enjoy being with you." Ben said slowly. His tone was deceptively casual; even Ray could pick up the magnitude of the understatement.

"Well, all right. We...enjoy having you." And he sensed that the Mountie likewise heard all the words did not say.

Ray sat back and watched a small flock of birds swoop into the nearby trees. "Fraser, what are you going to do?"

The question hung there in the deepening dusk. Fraser was silent for a long moment, looking out into the goldtinted clouds. His next words were unexpected and startling.

"I've put in an application for a transfer. To any of several posts near the villages where I grew up. I don't really care which one it is."

Ray stared at him. "You mean you'd--geez, Benny. I didn't even think you had that option. Do you really think they'd--"

"Part of the reason I went away, Ray, was to ascertain that very thing. I didn't fit in in the large cities. Well...in any cities." He smiled wryly. "But I spent months working in the communities, Ray. The small settlements. The open spaces. It's where I belong. And I believe, Ray, that they see that too."

"I didn't know you were gonna be leaving us, Benny. Stan didn't tell me."

"He doesn't know."

He looked over, into Ray's serious face. "I--I had my reasons for keeping it from him. I suppose there's no harm in it now, but--"

"I won't say anything if you'd rather I not, Benny." He frowned. "I thought you'd come back for--"

"I came back for lots of reasons, Ray. And I don't--I don't regret it. Don't regret it at all."

"I'm glad you did." He looked steadily into his friend's face. "Are you sure this is what you want? I mean--" He sighed. "I don't want you to go."

Ben smiled back at him. "That means a great deal to me, Ray. I don't want to go either, at least not at the moment. Although, actually--" He looked at his watch. "Someone will be wondering where his ice cream is if we don't get back in a hurry."

They stood up, stared momentarily at the fading rays of the sunset. Turned to each other at the same instant, wearing identical almost solemn expressions. There was not a breath of wind in the trees. Crickets chirred around them, loud in the stillness.

And Ray put a hand up to touch the Mountie's cheek. "Benny." His voice was gentle. "Figure I owe you this."

He leaned forward and placed a warm, fleeting kiss on Ben's lips.

Ben drew a fast breath, stared back at him. "I can't imagine why you should think you owed me anything of the sort, Ray. But thank you kindly, just the same." He gave him a wondering smile.

Ray clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Benny. I'll make sure he knows that was *my* idea, not yours. Now let's go get his majesty his triple chocolate before he starts getting whiny."

They started down the path towards the street, their steps easily falling into rhythm.

"Actually, Ray, it's interesting that you should accuse Stan of a tendency to whine."

"Interesting how? You don't think he gets whiny? Trust me, he--"

"Well, it hasn't been my experience. You, however--ahh, never mind."

"I however what?"

"It's nothing, Ray."

"So what exactly are you sayin' here, Benny?"

"I told you, it's nothing."

"Is this another nothing like the nothing you just dropped on me back there?"

"No, Ray. It's really...nothing."

"Oh, this is a real nothing."

"Yes."

"Benny?"

"Yes, Ray."

"I missed you."

Ben called for his taxi almost as soon as they returned with the ice cream, said a hurried good night to them both and ducked out of the apartment. Ray had caught the expression in his eyes, however, and he knew Ben wasn't upset, just nervous. He closed the door behind him and went over to sit on the couch beside his partner, who was busily spooning his icy confection right out of the container.

The pale eyes flashed to his, the spoon pausing momentarily. "All right, Vecchio, spill it. *Something's* up, you both looked like you'd seen a ghost out there."

"Well as a matter of fact, we had a little talk, Stan."

"Yeah? What ab--oh God." He sat up, his face excited. "Shit, Ray, what'd he tell you?"

"I think you can guess."

Stan closed his eyes, smiled with relief. "That's--that's good, Ray. I hated keeping it from you. I knew he would eventually, or you'd figure it out on your own. Ray, it wasn't that I didn't want you to know. I *did* want you to know, but--"

"Kowalski, take a breath. You did the right thing."

"Yeah?" He shot Ray a curious look. "Well, what'd you say?"

"I didn't say much, I was too busy trying not to freak out."

"Well, now you know how *I* felt that first night he got back." Stan gazed into his ice cream momentarily, then lifted his lashes and peeked at Ray's face. "So, did *you* get a kiss too?"

"I did."

"Good, we're even now, I can stop guilting about it. Hey, if you want some of this stuff you better speak up, it's disappearing." He offered the sticky spoon to his partner.

Ray took it and the container, set them on the coffee table. He leaned forward to pull Stan into his arms, taking his lips in a penetrating kiss. Smiled down at him. "You taste like cold chocolate."

A mischievous grin. "You taste like a warm Mountie."

"*Stanley!*"

"Ray!"

Ray leaned into him, pressing him back on the couch cushions, began to pin him down with his own weight. Froze in mid-stretch and scrambled back hastily. "Oh shit, Stan, your leg. I forgot, you gotta tell me when I--"

Strong arms looped themselves around his neck, pulling him down forcibly. "My leg will survive, Vecchio. Do you know how long it's been since we--?"

"I don't want to be responsible for serious injury, love. I can wait."

"I'm going to seriously injure *you* if you don't give me what I want in the next five minutes." Stan's voice had picked up a husky note. His mouth dipped downwards, teasing the warm skin of Ray's throat.

"First it's ice cream, now it's sex. Jeez, but you're a demanding son of a--ohh, God. *Stan.*"

*** *** ***

"Frase, you're throwin' it the wrong way."

"The wrong way? How many ways are there to throw a Frisbee, Stan?" Fraser looked at him with a slightly perplexed expression.

"You're whipping it like a discus, Frase, it's flyin' fast enough to take somebody's head off. No wonder he's afraid to try an' catch it." Stan glanced down at the wolf who sat a few feet away on the grass, regarding them blandly.

"Oh, I assure you, Stan, he's not *afraid* of it. He's not catching it because he has no interest in so doing." Diefenbaker tilted his head at them, yawned.

"Let me try. Back up a bit." They moved apart from each other, creating a triangle with the wolf at one corner. The small park was filling up on this sultry Saturday in early August, but they had found this relatively deserted area of open lawn.

Ray sat twenty yards away with his back propped against a huge oak, watching them, a plastic water bottle in one hand. Even in the shade, his skin was misted with sweat, his shirt clinging to him. He wore jeans, a concession to the heat, although they were almost as new and dark as Ben's.

He watched Stan with a critical eye as his partner moved, flinging the bright plastic disc in a swooping arc over the wolf's head, then sprinting after it, laughing. It had been three weeks since the shooting, and Stan's natural grace was returning, although Ray could detect a slight hesitation when his weight came down hard on the left leg. He sipped water, released a generally contented sigh.

Jimenez was still at large, despite a concentrated and coordinated effort. Ray was hopeful, knowing that even if he had fled the state temporarily, the odds were good he would return. He had too many interests and connections in the area to allow them to go unsupervised for long.

Ray watched Fraser as he leaped to snag an errant throw of the Frisbee from Stan, his muscled arms outstretched, his T-shirt so white it was almost blinding as the sun beat down on him. His face glowed with exertion and the beginnings of sunburn, his new longer hairstyle dipping damply over his forehead. He whipped the flying disc wolf-ward, and Diefenbaker ducked, lifting his muzzle, watching it buzz over his head.

Stan loped to retrieve it, tossing friendly abuse at Fraser over his shoulder. Looking at him, Ray felt a familiar ache in his chest, sweet and hopeful and terrifying all at the same time. His partner wore a sleeveless tee and soft, faded jeans that showed off his form to advantage. His hair was sunlightened, its chaotic fluff even less controlled than usual in the high humidity. Limping only occasionally, he leaped and spun and chased after the disc, flashing his smile at Fraser and the wolf and anyone else who wandered by.

He'd returned to desk duty a week after the shooting, and was at Ray's side again on rounds a week after that. Ray had wrestled with conflicting emotions; the simple joy at having his partner back, tempered by a nagging worry that he was not one hundred percent, a constant prayer that they would not find themselves in the middle of a firefight or a hostage situation. It was an extension of the strange anxiety that had bothered him even before the incident, and he knew it was not really based on concerns about Stan's physical condition. He did his best to keep these feelings from his partner, knowing what his reaction would be were he to learn of them.

Ray closed his eyes, stretching his legs out on the grass, pondering the unique nature of their relationship; the common enough elements of friendship and desire and love that had somehow combined into something entirely beyond his experience. He alternately felt as easy and relaxed with Stan as he would with a longtime friend, and as dizzy as a teenager with his first crush. He could spend a hectic workday with his partner, joking and grumbling and demanding, his mood all business--and then suddenly feel his heart almost stop in his chest when Stan shot him a shy look from the passenger seat as they drove home. Some of these emotions had been building for a long time, and he had begun to get used to dealing with them. But something had irrevocably changed between them the night they had admitted their feelings to each other; it was as if their relationship had both solidified and become more precious. Ray actively feared to lose it; he was continually watchful of potential threats.

One such threat had effectively ceased to exist for him. Wherever the dangers to Ray's newfound happiness might lurk, he no longer even considered that the Mountie might be one of them. It was impossible to entertain such suspicions in the face of his own observations of the two of them together; and even in the fading aftermath of his jealousy, he recognized that there had been no detrimental change in his relationship with Stan after Ben's return. His lover quite obviously enjoyed being with Fraser, but his tender smiles and smoldering glances were for Ray alone, and the continued intensity of their passion had removed any traces of doubt from Ray's mind.

A sudden bark jolted Ray out of his thoughts, and he sat up, squinting in the strong light. They were climbing up the slight grassy rise towards him, the wolf trotting along beside them. Stan's face was flushed, his eyes sparkling. "Hey, Vecchio. You fallin' asleep out here?"

"Just workin' on my tan, Stanley. You teach that wolf to catch that thing yet?"

"He's more interested in catchin' a hotdog, looks like. Hey! Hey, Fraser, get him outta there!" The wolf had deftly flipped up the lid on their picnic basket and was nosing eagerly beneath it. Ben was there, snagging the handles and lifting the basket out of the wolf's reach.

"I'll get this set up. Dief, you may accompany me if you keep your nose to yourself." Ben walked a little ways off to a flat place in the grass, the wolf right behind him. He knelt down, began taking things out of the basket.

Stan flopped down on the grass next to his partner, smiled into his eyes. "Jeez, it's not fair, Ray. I'm out for barely half an hour and I'm all pink; you just turn this gorgeous dark color."

Ray lifted a gentle hand and brushed an errant lock of hair off his partner's damp forehead. "It looks good on you." He smiled.

Stan sat up and shot a scanning glance around them. No one was in sight except the Mountie, and he had his back to them, spreading a cloth out on the grass with military precision. They turned to each other, wearing identical mischievous grins, leaned in for a warm, clinging kiss.

Ray released him reluctantly after long seconds, looked tenderly into his face. They broke apart and glanced back at Fraser.

He was looking right at them, his expression not at all discomfited. An amused smile touched the corners of his mouth.

They shifted away from each other guiltily, Stan's cheeks faintly pink. Ray cleared his throat. "Benny, sorry about that. We didn't mean--"

Ben held up a hand. "No need to apologize. I think it's--cute." He reached into the picnic basket and continued pulling things out of it, still smiling, the wolf watching him raptly.

Ray buried his face in his hands. "Stanley, we're cute. Somebody shoot me."

Stan was fast recovering his composure. He slapped Ray on the shoulder, scrambled to his feet. "Come on, the fuzzy donut hound's gonna get all the good stuff."

After a moment Ray got up, smiling, and loped over to join them. The three of them passed plates and bottles and condiments back and forth, tossing the occasional scrap to the wolf's eager jaws. The sound of their easy laughter floated upwards, into the bright sunshine and the brilliant blue of the sky.

*** *** ***

"Hey, Ray."

"Yeah, babe." Ray reached out with the dishtowel to accept the dripping plate his partner handed him. They stood elbow to elbow at the sink. Fraser was in the livingroom with Dief, the sounds of a baseball telecast echoing throughout the apartment.

"You think he's happy?" Stan kept his voice low, acutely aware of the Mountie's almost superhuman hearing.

Ray chuckled, marveling at the way his partner's thoughts seemed to track his own. "He certainly seems that way to me, love. Why, you worried about somethin'?"

"No, I just wanted to make sure. I didn't expect it'd be like this, Ray. I mean, I'd hoped we could all stay friends, but this is--wow." He lifted a soapy hand to wipe his sweaty brow with the back of his wrist. "I'm waiting for the catch, you know?"

"Maybe there won't be one, babe. We always did get along, all of us. Well, except you and me, in the beginning." He flashed an easy grin; Stan flicked soapsuds at him.

"He didn't seem to mind us smoochin' in the park today. Then again, it's hard to tell when he *does* mind somethin'. He's so friggin polite he'd never say." Stan pulled the drainplug, watching the water swirl with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Somethin' is goin' through that head of yours, Stanley."

Stan smiled. "Nothin', Ray. I just--I just don't want him to be hurt. It's like I feel almost responsible for him. It's silly, I know."

Ray reached out, placing gentle fingers under his partner's chin. "It's not silly, love. I think we both feel it."

They looked at each other. Stan slipped his wet hands around his lover's waist, pulling them together. Ray sighed at the feel of his partner's body against his, leaning into its warmth to brush his lips across Stan's own. He felt his lover's mouth curve into a sweet smile, and slid his arms firmly around him, taking him into a deep kiss.

The click of approaching toenails warned them, and they broke for air a split second before Dief appeared in the doorway, Ben right behind him. Arms still locked around each other, they turned slightly startled eyes into Fraser's face, but this time, they did not pull away.

Ben stopped and cleared his throat. "Ahhh, sorry. Dief was wondering if there were any leftover potato chips."

"Sure, Frase." Stan stepped casually out of Ray's arms, opened a cabinet, tossed a pillowy plastic bag in Fraser's direction. Absently catching it one-handed, the Mountie stood there uncertainly, regarding them. Dief lifted his nose, attention locking on his target.

"Thank you kindly, Stan," Ben said at length. "I think I'll be going when this inning is over. I'm a bit--tired."

"Oh no, you don't." Stan reached into another cabinet, withdrew a large bowl. Ray was already at the Mountie's side, taking his arm firmly to draw him back into the living room. Stan followed, bowl in hand. The wolf tracked the potato chip bag, tail wagging, eyes rapt.

"Stan. Ray--really. I do appreciate your company, but--"

Ray gave him a push in the direction of the couch. "*Sit.*"

There was a whine as the wolf's hindquarters sank to the floor, his tail still wagging hopefully. All three of them blinked down at him, and Ray's face broke into a wide smile. "Hey, good job, fuzzface. Think you can teach this guy that trick?" He took the potato chip bag out of Fraser's unresisting hands, tossed the wolf a salty treat. Stan looped an arm through the Mountie's and forcibly pulled him down beside him on the couch.

Ray plopped down comfortably on Ben's other side.

Ben was smiling. "You don't have to do this."

Stan plunked the bowl into Fraser's lap; Ray dumped the chips into it. "You were supposed to be keepin' track of the score out here, Frase. What's the damage?"

Fraser was looking from one to the other. "Err, there isn't any. That is, there is no score."

Stan shifted comfortably against him, their arms still linked. He stretched his feet out on the coffee table and closed his eyes. "Wake me if there's a fight. It won't get good till the sixth anyway." He did not miss the tiny shiver that ran through the Mountie's body.

"That's what *you* know. There's no starting pitching on either side tonight, they'll be flying all over the park by the fourth. Benny, where's the remote?"

"Ray's sitting on it." Ben swallowed, shook his head. "I mean--"

"No, *I'm* sitting on it." Stan lifted his hips, slid the device out from under, handed it across Ben's lap to his partner.

Ray was grinning. "Jeez, Benny, you haven't done that in a while. Things are gonna get real confusin' around here if you're calling us both Ray."

"Sorry, I--"

"You nervous or somethin', Frase?" Stan nestled closer against Ben's left side, giving his arm a squeeze. His voice was already sleepy.

"No, I, uhh--"

"Whoa-ho-ho, what'd I tell ya! You see that?! That ball was *smacked,* it woulda been out if there was any wind at all!" Ray turned the volume up, crowd noise swelling. "This is gonna be a wild one. Who do you want, Benny, the Cubs or the Cards? Loser does the winner's dish duty all next week."

"Ray, I don't gamble."

"I know you don't, Fraser." Stan grinned.

"I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to--"

"Awww, wagerin' on baseball ain't *gambling,* Benny, come on."

"Well, actually, Ray, it's--"

"Will you guys pipe down? I'm trying to get some rest here."

"Benny, smack him for me."

"I certainly will *not*--ouch!" Fraser grabbed his ribs where Stan's elbow had just given him a sharp jab. "Now, this is quite--"

"Send that over to your right, please, Fraser." Mumbled.

"Are you getting disrespectful over there, Kowalski?"

"What if I am?"

Ben cleared his throat loudly. "Gentlemen..."

Ray reached into the bowl to toss another chip in the wolf's direction. "Sorry, Benny. We'll behave. Won't we, Stanley?"

"Mmmf. Shh."

Ray rolled his eyes. "All right, Fraser. I guess we have to cheer *quietly* on account of Sleeping Beauty over there. You want a Coke or a beer or something?"

"Ahh, no, thank you, Ray."

"Got everything you need?"

"I--yes, Ray. I think I do."

Ray shifted a centimeter closer to the Mountie's warmth. "Good."

*** *** ***

Thursday night.

Ray swallowed the last of his supper without tasting it and pushed his plate aside, risking a glance into his lover's strained and angry face. He released a heavy sigh and waited.

"You wanna tell me what happened back there today? Or we gonna spend all night makin' like nothin' did?" Stan's eyes were uncharacteristically hard. Ray recognized the unmistakably stubborn set of his jaw with a fatalistic sigh.

He'd been hoping his partner would drop it. No such luck.

"Look, Stan, for the fourth time, I'm sorry. Do we have to get into this again?"

"Yeah, Vecchio, we do. I don't want to, but we do."

There were threads of hurt and worry behind his anger, and Ray's heart sank. He looked across the table strewn with the remnants of their unenthusiastic meal, and allowed his own confusion to show on his face.

Stan looked back at him for long seconds and then shook his head, his lips pressed into a grim line. "I don't know what to make of you, man. Four months we been workin' together, we never hadda problem until now. What'm I suppposed to think, Ray? You think I got--what--brain damaged last month? Is there somethin' I'm doin' wrong, or--"

"No. It's me."

"Yeah, I got that. *Why?*"

He drew a slow breath. "I don't know."

The trouble had started that afternoon. A call-in report had come in on a probable domestic dispute, screams and shots fired. It was at the home of a woman who was the reputed girlfriend of a man Stan had been hunting for months in connection with an earlier case. He and Ray sped to the scene, arriving in Stan's car. After a tense, hurried consultation, backup fanned out around the premises, and the two of them approached the front door, guns drawn.

And Ray said under his breath to his partner, "On three. Cover me, I'm kickin' it."

"What?" The grey eyes narrowed, Stan's voice a hiss. "You forget whose case this is, Ray? *I'm* kickin' it."

Ray swallowed, his heart threatening to climb into his throat. "Don't know what I'm thinking. Yeah, it's yours. Do it."

Stan shot him one last penetrating look, and then they were falling into rhythm, concentration honed on nothing but what lay beyond the door. Seconds later, it lay splintered off its hinges and they were back to back in the room, shouting, weapons raised. No one was visible and they moved off down a narrow hallway, Stan taking point position. The hallway led into a shadowy living room furnished with Salvation Army rejects.

Ray caught the sudden flash of movement behind the sofa and from that moment, time took on an eerie, slow-motion quality. A tall, bearded man wearing a dirty tanktop rose up, weapon in hand; aimed; cocked. Ray watched his partner brace his legs, gun trained unerringly on the man's chest. And suddenly Ray was stepping around him, in front of him, propelled not by training or logic or reason, only by need. He raised his own revolver, squeezing off two shots while simultaneously reaching behind him, actually pushing Stan down and to one side, hearing his gasp of shock as if from a great distance. The first round knocked the gun out of the man's hand; the second took him in the upper chest, dropping him like a stone behind the filthy sofa.

Ray came back to himself abruptly with the whiff of powder in his nostrils and the pounding of feet in his ears as backup swarmed the premises. He turned to look into Stan's face, but his partner was getting to his feet, pushing past him without a word. Ray closed his eyes, shaking with adrenaline and terror, giddy with relief, heartsick with confusion.

They accompanied the ambulance to the emergency room, arranged for the arrest and booking of the wanted man following his release, and returned to the station for the resulting mandatory round of reports. Stan handled the entire process with his customary thoroughness, speaking to his partner as necessary to get the work accomplished. Ray hung back, suppressing recurrent bouts of shivering, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. He was unable to meet his partner's eyes.

Ray shot his partner a look as they headed off in Stan's car, the interminable shift finally over. "Listen, just drop me at home."

"Fuck *that,* Vecchio."

Ray had gritted his teeth, but a tiny flare of gladness sparked in his heart at Stan's words. "Stan. I--I'm sorry. Somethin' spooked me, so can we--"

"I'm tired and hot and I need some food in me." He was squinting at the road ahead, driving onehanded. Ray could sense his partner's tension in the way he shifted gears, racing the car's engine.

"All..all right, Stan." He'd subsided, hoping that would be the end of it. He'd thrown a meal together while Stan took a shower, and they'd eaten in near-silence.

Now his partner was regarding him with that unrelenting stare, as if he expected Ray to be able to explain his own irrational fear. There were no words for it, no coherent thoughts. He tried. He leaned forward, looked into Stan's face.

"I'll get over it."

"Oh yeah? Before or after you eat a bullet? I coulda fucking killed you, you realize that? You stepped right into fucking range."

Ray rubbed a hand over his eyes. "You didn't, okay, Stan?"

"You're damned lucky no one else saw what happened in there."

"I know that. You won't--"

"Jesus Christ, Ray, of course not. But you gotta--we gotta--"

"I know. Baby, I know." He risked a look into his partner's eyes, saw the anger beginning to fade into hurt and sadness. "The bottom line, Stan, is this is happening because of--"

"That much I get, Vecchio. I don't get *why.* And I don't know what to *do* about it."

"Don't do anything, Stan. Please. Except trust me." He winced as he heard the words leave his mouth.

"I *do* trust you, Ray." Stan's voice was steady. "I always have. Ever since--well. You've never given me any reason not to, and I didn't think I had ever given you--"

"Christ, you haven't. You haven't. Can we--love, I can't talk about this any more. If you want me to go, I'll go. I don't have any answers."

"That ain't good enough, Ray."

"I know it isn't." He shut his eyes, feeling his hands curling into fists on his knees.

Stan sighed. "I don't want to split us up, Ray, but maybe it's time. Maybe--"

"That's not what I want."

"You sure? You really sure? Think about it."

"I have. I am. I do."

"Will you--"

"*Stan.* I'm not just shoving this away like it isn't a problem, I just don't fucking *know.* As soon as I--as soon as I do, I'll tell you. Okay?"

"Ray."

"Yeah." He was staring down at his dirty dinner plate.

"Okay."

He heaved a trembling sigh of relief and gratitude. "I don't want to work with anybody but you, love. I know it doesn't look that way, but--"

"All right, Ray. I'll give us another chance. Because I trust you."

Ray shook his head and pushed to his feet, clearing the table with silent, purposeful movements. Stan joined him at the sink, casting sidelong glances at his profile. Ray stared down at his hands as they went through the automatic motions of scraping and rinsing and sudsing.

"You're gettin' soapsuds on that nice shirt of yours, Ray. Want me to--"

"It doesn't matter. I'll take care of this, Stan. Go watch TV or somethin'."

"What, and let you dry? You leave unsightly water spots on the glasses."

Ray's lip quirked, but he did not meet his partner's eyes. "Stan, really."

"Look at me."

Ray closed his eyes, fisting his red, soapy hands on the edge of the sink. "I think I oughta take off, Kowalski. I ain't doin' you any good. I--"

Stan's fingers caught his chin roughly, turned his face. "I don't know, Ray, if we're gonna stay partners. But there's one thing I do know, and that is that we're gonna stay together. The one got nothing to do with the other. You not clear on this concept, or somethin'?"

Ray's troubled eyes held his. "I'm not goin' anywhere, Stan, but you--"

Stan kissed him swiftly, surely, cupped a hand around his neck. "I'm not goin' anywhere either. Okay?"

He sighed, rested his forehead against his partner's. "Okay, Kowalski."

*** *** ***

"And that's--that's basically what happened. I lost it, Benny. Just like I was afraid of. I'm not gonna be able to do this. And I don't know how to tell him."

"Well, what exactly is it that you feel he needs to know?"

Ray looked up at him across the narrow, spartan room in the Consulate building, which Fraser had appropriated as temporary living quarters. Ben was seated astride a wooden chair that had been turned around, his arms folded across the seatback. Ray sat on the edge of the neatly made cot, chin propped in his hands. "That I can't work with him anymore."

"And you're certain of that."

"Benny, for Christ's sake! What other choice do I have?" He got up, pacing as far as the space would allow. "I'm endangering both of us and jeopardizing the success of any operation we work. It can't go on."

"Well, I would agree that there is a problem. However, would partnering him with someone else solve that?"

Ray turned to look at him in surprise. "He can work with just about anyone, Benny. He's not a pain in the ass like me. He's a terrific cop. I'm only getting in his way."

"Ahh. Then if I understand your meaning correctly, you want him reassigned to someone new for--his own benefit."

"For both our benefits."

"And you feel that knowing he's in the field without you will enable you to overcome this...anxiety you've been experiencing?"

Ray closed his eyes. "That's *my* problem. No, I expect I'll feel even worse if I'm not at his side. I'm not sure I trust anyone else to--to look out for him."

"And you feel he needs--looking out for."

"Everybody needs a partner they can depend on for backup, Fraser."

"Of course, Ray." Ben's gaze held his.

Ray looked back at him, something dawning in his eyes. "But this is--this is more than that. I'm--protective of him."

"Would that be because you don't feel he's quite skilled enough? Perhaps the shooting last month has undermined your confidence in his ability to--"

"*No.* I told him that, and it was the truth. That coulda happened to any one of us. This--this shit started before that even went down, Benny. All that did was show me how badly screwed up *I* was."

"I see."

"Fraser."

"Yes, Ray."

"You don't *really* think I doubt his ability to look out for himself."

"Ahh, no, Ray. I don't."

"Then why'd you ask that?"

"Well, I'm attempting--"

"Don't hang up your Sam Browne for a headshrinker's couch, okay, Benny? I--I appreciate you helpin' me think this through, but if you know what's goin' on, why don't you just say it. Why'm I doin' this?"

"Well, it would only be a theory at this point. But if you consider--"

"Benny, at this point I'll listen to one of your Eskimo stories if you think it would shed any light on this."

"You don't need parables to understand what's going on here." Ben smiled gently. "All you need is an understanding of who you are, and once you have that, you'll know why you behave as you do."

"What's to understand? I'm a cop, I'm stubborn, I'm set in my ways. I been doin' what I'm doin' for over ten years and I don't ever want to do anythin' else. I'm happy. Especially lately. Well, except for this." He frowned, staring down at his polished leather shoes. "What else is there to know? I got sisters who drive me up a wall, but I love them. Ditto my mother."

"Your family...gets on your nerves, sometimes, do they?"

"More than sometimes, sheesh."

"Then why do you continue to live with them?" Ben was watching his face closely.

Ray looked at him, startled. "I gotta live with them. They don't have anyone else, since my good-for-nothing father up and *died* on all of us. It's always been that way. Ma depends on me. Frannie...---" He broke off and sat down abruptly on the edge of the bed.

"You've protected your family all of your adult life, Ray. It's an essential part of your character now, and a very admirable one, if I may say--"

"Stan's not my family."

Ben's eyes were gentle as they looked into his. "Isn't he?"

Ray frowned. "No. I--I'm in love with him. There's a difference."

"I see." Ben looked down at his hands. "You were in love with me at one time, Ray. Did you experience this kind of--"

He shook his head slowly, a look of amazement on his face. "Benny, somehow I felt you were untouchable. When I think about that now I can see how crazy it was, but--"

"And is that all there was to it? You had the same feelings for me as you do now for Stan, and the only difference is, you trusted me not to get hurt and you don't trust him in the same way."

Ray had a forestalling hand up before Ben even finished speaking. "That's not it at *all.*"

"Ahh? Then how is it?"

Slowly, Ray said, "What I felt for you--and what I feel now for him--they're not the same."

Ben's smile was wistful. "No, Ray. They're not."

"He's--Benny, you're right. He is like my family. I never thought of it in those terms before. And it's--it's more than that, even."

"Yes, Ray."

Ray sat forward, looked into his face. "Benny, you and I were--we had a fantastic relationship. You were a wonderful partner."

"But he's...he's your right arm."

Ray blinked.

"And your heart, and your soul, and your--"

"Fraser!"

"Am I wrong?" Again that gentle, knowing smile.

Ray slumped back onto his outspread hands. "You're--you're not wrong. Jesus, what do I do?"

"I think you'll find, Ray, that this trait in your personality is an asset, not a detriment. You need only find a way to make it work for you, not against you."

"Oh, easy to say."

"Well, yes. But I'll help, if I can."

He sighed, giving Fraser a tired smile. "I appreciate that, Benny."

Ben returned his smile. "Don't mention it."

Ray ran a hand over his hair. "Benny, how come this isn't--isn't happening to him? Does he not feel the same--"

"I think you know that's not true. The difference between you lies in your backgrounds and life experiences, not in your feelings."

"You're sayin' it's not in his background to protect people."

"No, not exactly. He protects his friends and his partners very well, I think. But he doesn't see you as requiring anything more than that. He--Ray, you must know that he looks up to you."

For just a moment Ray looked as if he would hotly deny this, and then a half-sheepish smile touched his face. "Yeah, I guess I do. Damned if I can figure out why, though. He's better'n I am at a lot of things, for cryin' out loud. I tell him that, too. For example--"

"It's not a matter of comparing your skills, Ray. It's an aura you have, a confidence in yourself. It puts people at ease in dangerous situations. They know they can depend on you."

Ray shook his head slowly. "He can't depend on me right now, Fraser. I've shown that. I want to fix it, but I'm not sure I can."

"I think you can."

Ray smiled at him. "Hey, come over after work, okay? We missed you last night. It's Friday, there's a good game on later--"

Ben put his head on one side. "Are you quite sure? I probably should take Dief out for some exercise. He's been showing signs of--"

"Bring him along. We'll throw a ball around the park."

"Well, I--"

"See you at six, then." He smiled. "I should be going, Benny, I gotta get back to the station. Thanks, okay?"

A hesitant rap at the door made both men look up. Ben got up, opened it a fraction. "Yes, Turnbull. Is something wrong?"

"This came for you, sir."

"Ahh, I see. Thank you kindly." Ben closed the door, turned to face Ray. He held an envelope in his hand.

"Special delivery, Benny?" Ray asked, only mildly curious.

"Actually, Ray, this may be something I've been expecting. One moment." Deftly, he tore one end of the envelope open and withdrew a single typewritten sheet. "Ahh. Yes, indeed. Hmm. Well, this is...good news."

"What is?"

"My transfer, Ray. It's been approved. They're expecting me on the first of October."

They looked at each other in the sudden silence.

"That's...that's great, Benny. It's what you wanted."

"Yes. It's...what I wanted."

Ray cleared his throat. "Well like I said, I gotta run. See you tonight, Fraser."

Ben nodded at him. "Tonight, Ray."

*** *** ***

"Ouch!"

"Does that hurt, Fraser?"

A sigh. "Yes, Ray."

"Well, what do you want me to--"

"Nothing, Ray. I'm quite all right. I probably mildly strained something in my lower--"

"I know what you need. Here, turn around. No, the other *way,* Benny."

"Ray, are you trying to kill him?" Stan watched them from across the table, chuckling.

"No, no. Trust me on this, guys." He approached Ben's chair, the Mountie sitting stiffly, facing away from him. Ray drew up one trousered knee, placed it squarely in the middle of Ben's back, leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the solid chest. "Ready?"

"Ohh. Yes, I think--I'm ready, Ray."

Ray pulled his weight backwards and up. A grunt from him, a sharp cry from Ben, a popping sound that all three of them heard. And then Ben was arching himself gingerly, rolling his shoulders. "That's...that's done it, I believe. Thank you kindly, Ray."

"Next time look where you're goin' chasin' that ball."

"I should have been more careful."

"Wasn't your fault, Frase." Stan grinned at him. "Wolf got in your way."

"Well, actually it was that shrubbery I tripped over, not Diefenbaker."

They exchanged relaxed smiles across the table, the atmosphere warm and friendly and comfortable. Ray felt worlds better than he had just hours before; the evening they'd shared together having buoyed his confidence and his mood. Neither he nor his partner had referred again to the events of the previous day; Stan's eyes were warm and loving when they rested on him, and from time to time he would entwine his fingers with Ray's or brush a soft kiss across his mouth. Ray also felt a satisfying closeness between himself and Ben, manifesting itself in feelings of tenderness and affection.

"You feel better now, Frase?"

"Actually, Ray--Stan--my neck and shoulders are a bit stiff, but I'll--"

"I got it." Stan got up, pulling his chair with him. "Just relax, Fraser. You'll like this." He positioned his chair behind the Mountie's, placing gentle hands on Ben's shoulders. "Jeez, Fraser, you're in knots! Chill already!"

"I--I am attempting to." Ben closed his eyes, a soft sound escaping him as Stan's strong fingers dug into his muscles, probing and soothing. Ray watched them, catching his lover's eye over Ben's shoulder. Stan winked at him.

"Frase, let your arms hang limp. Like that, yeah."

"Oh."

Stan stopped. "That hurt?"

"Ahh, no. It feels--that is, don't stop."

Stan grinned, once again picking up the rhythmic, kneading motions of his hands. Ben's eyes remained closed, his head lifting back. Stan massaged the tendons in his neck, the rounded smoothness of his shoulders, his fingers gliding over the soft cotton of Ben's shirt. Fraser shifted in the chair, his hips coming forward as his shoulders pressed back against his friend's caressing hands. Ray felt a shiver in his gut at the Mountie's curiously seductive pose. Startled, he looked into Stan's face, met knowing grey eyes.

"You're loosening up now, Frase," Stan purred, leaning close to Ben's ear. "You shouldn't let yourself get all tense like that. Well, unless you're on sentry duty and you *gotta* stand that way."

Ben smiled, but his voice was a bit breathless. "I feel--much better, Stan, thank you."

"No problem." Stan slung his arms around Ben's neck from behind, crossing them loosely over the Mountie's chest. He rested his chin on Ben's shoulder.

Ben opened his eyes to look into Ray's face; was met with a sweet, affectionate smile. "What do you say, Benny? Gonna stay and watch the game?"

Stan tightened his arms across Ben's chest, smiling. "Yeah. He's stayin'."

Ben turned his head slightly, tried to look into Stan's face. "Don't I have a say in this?"

"Nope. You don't. I won't let you use my phone. You're stuck here."

"I'm perfectly capable of walking--"

"We know that, Benny, but we won't let you." Ray flashed him a grin.

Slowly, Ben lifted a hand and closed it around Stan's wrist. He drew a deep breath. "Well, then, in that case, I suppose--"

"It's settled. All right, boys, let's get this place cleaned up, I don't wanna miss the starting lineups."

"Come on, come on! Two down, two strikes! Put this guy away already!" Ray nudged Fraser with his elbow. "Watch this, Benny. No contest. He's goin' down, he's goin' down. Rookie."

Fraser frowned. "What makes you so--"

"Just watch." Ray leaned forward, his face intent in the flickering glow of the television. There was no other light in the room. "Ohhh, yes! High hard heat! And you, sir, are through! Whooosh! Didja see that swing, he missed it by half a foot! Perfect pitch. Thing of beauty." He sat back, stretching. "Whatdja think, Stan? Didn't I tell you they'd--hey, Kowalski? Fraser, is he--"

"Ahhh, yes, Ray. Since about the top of the seventh, actually..."

Ray flipped the set off, abruptly cutting off the crowd noise and excited announcer's babble. Darkness descended.

"Figures." Ray chuckled. "I think he only does it to get cuddles out of you, Benny."

There was a brief silence. Ray waited, his heart beginning to beat faster. But Ben only turned to look at him, his expression thoughtful, but not particularly perturbed.

"Stan has never struck me as the...cuddly type, Ray."

"He is when he's sleepy. It's downright adorable sometimes."

"Vecchio, I'm gonna stuff this pillow down your throat as soon as I get my eyes open."

Ray's grin widened. "Nice of you to join us, Stan. You missed some great action. Not to mention you owe me five bucks."

"Again? Shit." He pushed himself upwards, disentangling Fraser's arm from his own. Ben lifted his shoulder, flexing his elbow.

"He cut off your circulation again, Benny?"

"Not too badly."

"Sorry, Frase." Stan blinked, rolled his shoulders back. "God, what time is it?"

"Time for me to get back to the Consulate."

"Oh all right, Benny, I think we can let you go now." Ray stood up, held out a hand to the Mountie and helped him up. Stan rose on wobbly legs, raking his fingers through his hair.

On impulse, Ray slipped his arms around Ben's waist and pulled his friend into a brief, tight hug. "Thanks for stayin'. And thanks for--you know."

To his surprise, Fraser's arms wrapped him strongly, his eyes steady as they sought Ray's own. "You're quite welcome, Ray."

"Hey, lemme have some of that." Stan insinuated his arms between them; they stepped apart enough to include him in a few moments' mutual embrace. Ben looked into two pairs of eyes; one warm and steady, the other slightly shy yet twinkling. His lips twitched upwards, and he stepped back reluctantly, watching as Ray's arm slid naturally around Stan's shoulders.

"See you tomorrow, Benny?"

And Fraser smiled. "Yes."

*** *** ***

Wednesday, hot and muggy and airless. Rattling electric fans stirred the dustballs from corner to corner and flapped the yellowing notices tacked to the bulletin boards. Ray's tie was open, the back of his neck damp.

"Hey, Vecchio!"

He looked up and across the crowded bullpen, spotted Huey standing at his own desk, phone in one hand. "Sergeant Kelly from Burglary for anyone workin' Delorme. You want it?"

"Yeah, sure." He punched a button and picked up his own handset. "Ray Vecchio."

"Got something here I think you might wanna see, Detective."

"What is it?"

"Two of my boys pulled a raid on Lucky Scipone's place last night. I got a boxful of trinkets down here in evidence lockup. Some of it's coming up a match for the Playground giftshop hit. I understand there's a connection of some--"

"That's good news, Sergeant, thank you. We'll want to hold--"

"I figured that, Detective. It's at your disposal." He hung up.

"Hey, Stan." Ray smiled at his partner. "Burglary shook down a fence last night, came up with some of what's-her-name's jewelry. Fraser's friend, there."

Stan looked up. "No shit? That's good, Ray. We might need that stuff ourselves, to connect Jimmy's thugs to Mendoza."

"They're keepin' it in lockup for us."

Stan looked thoughtful. "Well, until Mary finds out it's here. They'll notify her, you know." He shot Ray a wry look. "Once she does, she's gonna break down--"

"Well, that's tough. Somebody's gotta explain that it's being held in connection with a murder investigation."

"Somebody?"

"Not me."

"I know just the guy, Ray."

They grinned at each other.

An hour later they stood in a dingy, sweltering conference room off the main evidence lockup, shirtsleeves rolled. Before them were three cardboard file boxes filled to overflowing with a jumble of small plastic bags, tags, and every imaginable kind of jewelry.

Watches. Lockets. Gold-link bracelets. Rings of every description. Pendants. Chains. Earrings. Nose rings. Rhinestones and zircons winked at them, paua shells and mother-of-pearl ornaments iridesced beneath the overhead light.

Stan's voice was glum. "Where the heck do we start?"

Ray shook his head. "*We* don't have time to be doin' this, Stan."

"Well you gotta better idea? They won't let *her* come in here an' root around in all this stuff--not unsupervised."

"As a matter of fact I do." Ray smiled suddenly. "I think it's about time Burglary made the acquaintance of our liaison from the Canadian Consulate."

"That was nice of Fraser, to agree to come in and start sortin' through all that crap in there."

"Yeah, it sure was, Stan." Ray shot him a look.

"Seems like we oughta, I dunno, do somethin' for him."

Ray raised an eyebrow. "Somethin'?"

"Like cook him somethin' special, or something." Stan smiled. "All right, so it's silly." He shot a look around the squadroom, leaned closer to his partner's chair. "I still somehow feel guilty about him, sometimes, Ray. Don't you get that at all? Like I know it's not our fault, but--"

"Yeah, I get you. I think he's okay, Stan. I think I'd be able to tell, if we were botherin' him. And I'm not gettin' that--I'm gettin' just the opposite."

"I'd still like to--"

"You hintin' somethin', Kowalski?"

"Well, it is your turn to cook." He lifted his lashes, smiled up at his partner.

Ray slapped the file folder closed and hooked his suit jacket off the back of his chair. "All right, Stanley. I'll put somethin' on for him. You ready to blow outta here?"

Stan bounced up. "Was ready an hour ago."

In the parking lot, Ray turned to him. "Hey, gimme your apartment keys, Stan. I'll go get chow started, an' you can go pick him up."

A secretive smile touched Stan's lips. "Sure, Ray." He fished in his pocket, handed his partner a set of keys on a soft leather fob.

Ray blinked. Looked down at the keys in his hand, then up at Stan's face. "Where'd you get this?"

"Get what?"

Ray's fingers were stroking the buttersoft Italian leather almost in a caress. "This is--this is Vachetta leather, Stan. Oak tanned. Mimosa oiled. God, it even smells--"

"Geesh, Ray, don't do a Mountie thing with it, now." He was grinning at him.

Ray shot him a narrow look, his lips quirking into a smile. "Did you by any chance pick this up at--"

"Yeah, so Fraser might have talked me into stoppin' by there once or twice." He shrugged. "It's not like I really thought she *needed* me to buy somethin', I just kinda...liked it."

"I think I'm startin' to have an influence on you, Stanley." Ray rubbed his thumb gently, wonderingly, over the soft leather. "Just--just doesn't seem like the kinda thing I'd expect you to own."

"I don't own it, Ray." Stan tipped a wink at him. "It's yours." He strolled off towards the GTO, leaving Ray staring after him with the keys in his hand.

*** *** ***

The evening was special from the start. Fraser seemed curiously touched by their simple gesture of a particularly nicely prepared meal, served on matching plates for a change, a stubby candle lending a flair of elegance to the table. Ray produced a small bottle of wine, although they knew the Mountie didn't indulge; most of it disappeared into Stan as they ate.

Afterwards they settled down together in front of the ballgame, and this time Stan skipped his customary nap. They kept the volume low, listening to each other's commentary as well as the broadcast, the mood lighthearted and warmly affectionate. Fraser was more relaxed than either of them remembered seeing him before; smiling easily and often, his deep chuckles rumbling upwards in response to their teasing.

Perhaps it was the wine; perhaps it was the simple, at long last acknowledgement of the trust and intimacy built between them. The three of them shifted closer together as the evening wore on, gesturing into each other's personal space, Ray and Stan holding animated arguments almost nose-to-nose across Fraser's chest. At one point Ben leaned back to sling his arms around both their shoulders as if it were the most natural move in the world; without any discernable hesitation or surprise, they nestled under his embrace, the flow of banter uninterrupted.

Sometime after the seventh-inning stretch, Stan shifted position slightly, turning towards Fraser. Without consciously thinking about it, he slipped an arm around the Mountie's waist and then froze, looking across into Ray's warm, knowing eyes. He was on the point of shifting back again when he felt Ben's fingers tighten around his shoulder. Slowly, he looked up into his friend's face.

Fraser's eyes were closed, his head back against the sofa cushions. The two of them clearly picked up on the sudden tension in his body.

Ray placed a gentle, deliberate hand on Ben's stomach just above Stan's arm and slid it slowly upwards over his heart. Fraser drew a deep, catching breath, his chest lifting.

"Benny."

"Yes, Ray." Just the slightest quaver.

"You all right? Your heart rate's kinda...elevated."

"Yes, I'm fine." He lifted his head to look down at them.

"Must be the game. Baseball has that effect on people, sometimes." Ray's eyes were warm.

"Ahh, must be, Ray."

Stan rested his head against Fraser's upper chest as Ben lay back again, sighing softly, eyes closed. The three of them nestled in the utterly comfortable quiet as a languorous sweetness wrapped them, the television an unheard babble in the background,

Ray was drifting into a half-doze, his lips curved in a strangely satisfied smile, when the unexpected sensation of Fraser's fingers tracing soft patterns on his arm sent a shiver down his spine. Not daring to look into Ben's face, he slid the palm of his own hand soothingly across the Mountie's chest, feeling the warmth of him beneath the soft cotton.

After long minutes, Fraser's soft voice broke the silence. "I--I believe it's time that Diefenbaker and I took our leave."

They began to shift away from him at the same moment, but Ben's arms tightened strongly around their shoulders, holding them back. Stan lifted his head to look into Ray's face, his eyes wide. Ben chuckled. "Sorry."

He let them go then, and they straightened up slowly, wearing slightly bemused expressions. They stood in their now-customary three-way embrace for longer than usual at the door, Ray and Stan watching Ben's face, trying to read the emotions in his eyes. Stan was bothered by the niggling fear that the Mountie was distressed or discomfited and simply concealing it behind his veneer of flawless politeness.

"We gonna see you tomorrow night, Fraser?" He hoped his tone was offhand.

"I wouldn't miss it, Ray." Ben closed his eyes with a wry chuckle at the misspoken name, and the three of them were suddenly easy and laughing again.

As the door closed behind him, Stan had let out a slow breath and turned curious eyes into his lover's face. Was immediately distracted by what he saw there, Ray's mood unmistakable. His partner's hands pulled him into a rough embrace and Stan felt the arousal crackling between them like electricity, his cock suddenly heavy, his pulse quickening. Ray's burning eyes held his, a mutual admission that something more than emotional closeness had been generated tonight, something undeniably physical.

Then there had been no more conscious thought, only sensation, as Ray's hands were tugging impatiently at his clothing, as they half-stumbled into the bedroom and fell in a heap onto the bed, rubbing against each other with exquisite friction, forcing themselves to separate just long enough to remove the layers of interfering fabric.

Afterwards, Stan held his lover's satiated body in his arms, stroking his back with shaking fingers. He could feel the dampness of sweat, the thundering of Ray's heart against his own. Ray breathed heavily against Stan's neck, his weight utterly relaxed against him, the sticky aftermath of release between them.

"Vecchio, jeez." There was a catch in Stan's voice. "Gets better every damn time."

Ray nipped his neck. "You were kinda wild tonight, love." His lips curved. "Not that I mind."

"I guess, uhh, I guess it was because I had that fancy wine with dinner, and all."

"Oh, you think that's what it was."

Stan slipped fingers under his partner's chin. "You hintin' somethin', here?"

"No." Ray chuckled, dipping his head downwards again.

Stan frowned slightly, squinting up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Ray."

"Yeah, love." He shifted his weight off Stan's body and lay down beside him, one arm wrapped loosely across his lover's chest.

"Just what the hell did happen here tonight?"

Ray chuckled. "Nothin'--yet."

"Something's going on here, Ray. It's not--it's not just tonight, either."

"Smart boy, Stanley."

Stan lifted himself on an elbow to look into Ray's face. "Vecchio, don't even go there. I do not believe what you are thinkin'."

"What *I'm* thinkin'? *I* wasn't the one who almost bucked us onto the floor a few minutes ago, here, Stanley."

Stan had become accustomed enough to his lover's comments not to blush furiously at that. He returned Ray's look steadily, allowing a faintly sheepish smile to lift one corner of his mouth. "So the idea crossed my mind. Sue me. He'd never go for it."

"I would."

Stan's mouth fell open, but no words came out.

Ray grinned at him. "Wow, Kowalski. I've finally managed to shut you up."

"Are you--" Stan's voice had almost squeaked. He cleared his throat, tried again. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, Stan. I think--I think maybe it's what he needs. What we all need."

Stan's face was suddenly intent, his tone low and vehement. "Ray. I don't *need* anybody but you."

His lover's arms tightened around him. "Baby. That's not what I meant. We're...what we have is different. I'm not suggesting we change *anything,* love, don't worry."

"But you want..."

"Not for *me*, baby. Not for me. For him. He's talkin' to me, more than he used to, more than he ever did. But it's not enough. I can't--I can't find a way to get him inside *with* us...to share a little bit of what we have. And I want to. Is--is this making any sense?"

Stan looked into the hazel eyes. "Yeah, it is. You're one in a million, you know that, Vecchio?"

Ray smiled back at him. "Well, with you and me--we didn't really start *talking* until we started touching, remember?"

Stan raised an eyebrow. "You suggesting we knock him around a bit first?"

Ray said dryly, "I don't think that'll be necessary, Kowalski. Well, unless he resists, that is..."

"Ray, this whole conversation is idiotic. He'll never, ever--"

"I'm not so sure. I wouldn't have brought it up if I hadn't been gettin'...vibes from him."

"*Vibes??*" Stan pushed himself up, shifting to a sitting position. Ray followed him, propping the pillows at the head of the bed before leaning back to drape an arm around his lover's shoulders.

"I know him, Stan. Better than I used to." Ray's voice was quiet. "He just needs to be approached in the right way."

"Ray, we've gotta make sure he understands--that is--I don't want to end up hurting him. It's the last thing--"

"Love." Ray's lips brushed his hair. "He knows how we feel. About him, and about each other. But don't you worry. Before we do anything, it'll all be spelled out if it has to be, so there's no chance of that."

"And this is gonna work exactly...how? I mean, what're we--"

"Well, I've been thinking."

"You've been *thinking*? How long has this been goin' on, in that head of yours?" Stan grinned broadly at him.

Ray looked steadily back. "You're gonna sit there and tell me you never thought about it before tonight."

"Um, no I'm not."

"He's our friend, Stan. We have a--a duty to offer him...uhh...our support."

"Never heard it called *that* before." Stan felt the laughter bubbling up.

"Kowalski, cut it out. Now, there's two possible approaches to bringin' up the idea with him. We--"

"I'll wrestle him onto the bed and you get his clothes off." Stan was laughing so hard his eyes were starting to water.

Ray gave him a shake, but his own voice was beginning to pick up an amused breathiness. "As I was *saying* before you started being a pervert, there's two approaches. We tell him together, or one of us does separately. And I think--I think what will work best is both of those."

"Both of them?" He wiped an eye.

"Yeah. See, he's more comfortable with you than he is with me, Stan. I'm too much of a moody SOB and you're just a sweetheart--"

Stan made gagging noises in the midst of his giggles. "Ray, knock it *off*--"

"Well, it's true. So I thought you should--"

"Ray, he's too honorable. I couldn't just come on to him if you weren't around, he'd jump a mile. He'd think I was--"

"I don't know why I even *try* to finish my own sentences any more, Kowalski."

"Sorry, Ray. You were sayin?"

Ray gave him a squeeze. "I was saying what you just said. That's the problem with just you doin' it. So here's what I think we should do." He paused.

"I'm all ears."

"Okay, like tomorrow night...We'll flirt with him like we been doin', but this time--"

"*Flirt* with him?"

Ray looked into his face. "You been flirting, Stan. Don't even *try* to--"

"Yeah, yeah, okay." He grinned, tucked himself closer under Ray's arm.

"*This* time, when he starts getting all nervous and with that adorable shy expression he gets--"

"I *love* that expression."

"Quit interruptin'. That's when--that's when we go for it."

"Go for it how, exactly? You gonna lean over and lock lips with him? He'll pass out right on the freaking fl--"

"Will you stop running your mouth for half a minute and listen? I got it all figured out. We'll *tell* him what we want, both of us. Together."

Stan drew a breath. "O-okay. And then--"

"And he'll freak out, but in that quiet Mountie kind of way. And about then, I'll step out and leave the two of you alone for a while."

There was silence. Stan thought it over.

"What makes you think he won't bolt out the door?"

"He might. But I really, really don't think he will." Ray's tone was serious.

"And if he doesn't want to?"

"If he doesn't want to we won't, of course, you doof. What did you think, we were gonna tie him down and ravish him?"

"Whoa, there's a visual for--*ouch!*" Stan jumped as Ray's fingers tightened around his upper arm, and he mock-punched his partner in the chest. They were both grinning like idiots.

Ray reached out with gentle fingers to tip his lover's face up and press a soft kiss on his mouth. They sighed at almost the same moment, and Stan shifted back against him, settling comfortably beneath the weight of his encircling arm. A few silent moments passed.

"Ray."

"Yeah."

"You think he's done this before?"

"What, had a wild orgy with his two ex-partners? No, I don't think that was part of the Mountie training regime--"

"You know what I mean."

"What, has he--with--"

"With men, I mean."

Ray chuckled at him. "Men, as in plural?"

Stan poked him with his elbow. "*A* man. Any man."

"Well, I don't know. But, if I had to guess--"

Stan tilted his head back. They looked at each other and said together: "No way."

"This is gonna be--interestin.'"

"At the very least."

"Ray. Were you planning on--well." Stan looked suddenly shy. "Would you kiss him?"

"Sure, wouldn't you?"

"Well, I remember--we didn't--I mean, you and me--"

"Aw, baby. That was totally different."

Stan crossed his arms and gave his lover a pouty look. "Well, jeez, Vecchio, you teased me for two friggin' months before I got any--"

"*Stan.* That was because--dammit, you know why. I was afraid..." He sighed. "I didn't want to take the risk of falling in love with you, babe. Not before we knew--"

"And you don't care about that risk now?"

"There isn't one."

Stan's breath caught at the absolute, quiet conviction in Ray's voice.

"You...you sound so sure."

"I *was* in love with him, Stan. For years. I know what it feels like. And it's over. There's...well, there's a lot of feeling there. I do love him, I think I always will. I--well, I want him, like I always did. But since we've--you and me--ahh, Jesus, love. I can't explain it without sounding like an idiot or a bad love song, so I won't try, but you--just--don't worry, Kowalski, okay. Don't worry." He was blushing faintly, nuzzling into his partner's hair.

"I'm not worried, Ray. Jeez, who knew you were so romantic." He spoke lightly, but his fingers trembled slightly as he drew his lover's arm closer around him and snuggled into his warmth, blissfully content. He felt Ray's fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin.

"Baby."

"Mmm." Stan's eyes were closed.

"You really okay with this? You feel funny about it at *all*, you just forget the whole thing, you *got* that?"

"Ray. I get you. But thanks for sayin' that."

"I love you, Stan."

He drew breath, those words from Ray's mouth still rare enough to make his heart skip beats. "Back...back atcha, Vecchio."

They lay quietly for another minute. Ray brushed his lips against his partner's temple; Stan could feel that he was smiling. "What?"

"I was just thinkin'. The things we do for him."

Stan snickered. "Oh, it's such a tough job, Vecchio, but somebody's gotta do--"

"For the sake of *friendship,* Stan. We can--we can handle this."

"You just want him, you pervert."

"Speak for your frigging self."

"I was, actually..."

"We're disgusting."

"We are."

"There oughta be a law against us."

"There is, I think. Contributing to the Delinquency of a Mountie..."

"We love him, though."

"Yeah." Stan sighed, wrapped Ray's arm more closely around him. Closed his eyes. "We do."

*** *** ***

"Well, Ray. I must congratulate you again on your apparent ability to successfully predict the outcome of contests of this type."

"Your congratulations are accepted, Benny," Ray said gleefully. He was counting a sheaf of dollar bills by the flickering light of the television. "You wanna just concede my ultimate and everlasting superiority at point spreads, Stanley, or you gonna come back for more punishment tomorrow night?"

"Big talk, Vecchio. You got lucky the last few nights. You don't scare me."

"Okay, Stan. Have it your way." He put the bills in his wallet with a smug smile and flipped off the set. The quiet darkness surrounded them, and Ray felt a shiver of apprehension mixed with a low, building excitement.

"I must say that the logic of it escapes me," Ben said thoughtfully. "This last at-bat, for example. Taking into account the batter's on-base percentage over his last ten plate appearances, the high pitch count, the wind direction, and the fact that the on-deck hitter was known for--"

"Benny, baseball is not a game of statistics. It only seems that way." Ray's smile was serene as he nestled under the warm heaviness of the Mountie's arm. "It's a game of streaks, and hunches, and feelings, and heart, and...instinct."

Fraser's fingertips were tracing gentle, hesitant patterns on Ray's shoulder. Ray slipped an arm around his friend's waist, feeling his own heartbeat quicken. He resisted the impulse to look across at Stan, not knowing if Ben were watching them. Instead he slid his fingers around Ben's side, feeling the warmth of the man through the supple fabric of his shirt.

Stan had looped his arm through Fraser's as had become their habit. Before the Mountie could attempt to extricate himself, Stan slipped his hand into Fraser's own and entwined their fingers. Ben sighed audibly, and Stan turned towards him, placing his hand gently and deliberately on the broad chest, just over his heart.

"It's...it's late." Ben's eyes were closed.

"It's ten p.m., Benny."

"Well, I should be thinking about getting--"

"Nahh." Stan's soft voice. "You don't need to do that."

Ben opened his eyes, made an attempt to sit forward. Stan's hand pressed him back, his smile sweet. "Stay."

Fraser was beginning to sound breathless. He flashed them a brief, slightly mischievous smile. "If--if you keep this up I shall think you're trying to keep me here for--for nefarious purposes."

"Maybe we are." Ray watched him.

Ben rested his head back on the cushions, his chest filling. Stan risked a glance into Ray's eyes, then took a breath and slowly slid his hand across Ben's pectoral muscles, feeling the nipples rise beneath the soft cotton. Ben's fingers were suddenly tight around his.

Ray reached out gently and cupped the Mountie's jawline. Ben raised his head, looked into Ray's warm eyes. His arm was wrapped around his friend's slim shoulders, the muscles tensing with nervousness or excitement. "Ray. I don't--oh dear." He closed his eyes tightly, his breath catching.

Stan stilled his caressing hand on Ben's chest. "Hey, Frase."

Ray's voice was low, intense. "You want us to knock this off, you just say so. We outta line?"

"Well, I--that is."

"Benny. This is no time to be polite. We ain't trying to tease you here or give you the wrong--the wrong idea. You want me to keep my hands to myself, tell me."

"I don't have the wrong idea, Ray." He looked from one to the other, took another unsteady breath. "But I think you--you might. You don't realize what I--what this does to me."

Ray had to lower his head to hide a smile. He dropped his hand to Ben's chest and slid his palm across it, feeling the Mountie's pounding heartbeat. "You don't think so?"

Stan's own body was flushed with arousal, his breath beginning to come faster. He placed one trembling hand on Ben's thigh, fingers applying subtle pressure against the fabric. Fraser's hips slid forward unmistakably, his fingers not releasing their tangled hold on Stan's own.

"I understand that you're...you're...committed to each other, the two of you." Ben said in a shaky whisper. "I wouldn't want to--to do anything, to jeopardize that."

"We wouldn't want you to either, Benny," Ray's voice was quiet, firm.

"I know you're just trying to be--affectionate. I appreciate it, but--but I--ohhh." Ray's fingertips were whispering back and forth across Ben's left nipple, cresting it into a hard bud. "You don't know what you're--it's--you make me want--"

"Fraser, nobody's this--this innocent. Not even you." Stan closed his hand firmly around the solid heat of the Mountie's inner thigh.

The blue eyes locked on Stan's face. "You're--you can't be suggesting--"

"Yeah, we can, Benny." Ray's voice was suddenly husky.

Fraser turned to stare into Ray's face, unwrapping his arm from around the slim shoulders. "You--oh, my."

Stan released his hand as they slid gently away from him, giving him room to move. Two pairs of eyes watched him steadily.

Ben stared straight ahead, closed his eyes, opened them again. "I need--"

"What, Benny?"

Stan edged closer to him again. "Need what, Fraser?"

"A glass of water, at the moment. If you'll excuse me." Ben stood up so swiftly that Ray and Stan almost fell into each other across the space he had just vacated. Their eyes met, Stan's face surprised, Ray's quietly amused as Fraser all but stumbled into the kitchen. Ray jerked his head in the direction the Mountie had just taken; Stan looked back at him for a moment, then nodded and scrambled up to pad after his friend. He was dimly aware of Ray getting up and disappearing somewhere in the direction of the bedroom.

Fraser stood in the center of the kitchen floor, head down, arms wrapping himself. Stan approached slowly, looking searchingly into Ben's face. "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm all right, Ray." He lifted his head, looked up at the ceiling, then into Stan's troubled eyes.

Stan felt a slow flush spread over his skin. His voice was a whisper. "We love you, you know that, don't you? We want you. *I* want you, Frase--I always have. If you don't want this, you just *say*--"

"Ray. I didn't--I didn't say I didn't want it. I'm just...a bit startled." His lips turned up in a faint smile at the understatement.

Stan felt his heart speed up. He looked into his friend's eyes, and waited.

Ben stepped toward him and slid his arms around Stan's waist as he had done two times before. But how different this was. Ben was pressing himself up against Stan, his hands spreading out across his back to pull them closely together. Stan could feel the incredible warmth of his friend's body, the beat of his heart beneath his chest. Fraser was solid against him, big and heavy and real, his arms strong as they wrapped Stan's slim litheness. Stan looked into Ben's face, noting with a shiver of excitement the sudden dilation of his friend's eyes, the unmistakable emotion he read there.

Ben tensed against him, seemingly at a loss for what to do or say next. Stan helped him. "Fraser," he said softly, "just tell me. Tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking--" the Mountie sounded as breathless as Stan felt. "Ray. Stan. Oh, God. I'm thinking--" He closed his eyes. "I'm thinking how badly I want to kiss you. Do you suppose--"

"Frase, Jesus. You don't have to ask. You just--" And suddenly Ben's mouth was on his, hot, demanding, those arms tightening around him with surprising force. Stan was caught off guard, his hands convulsively knotting themselves in the fabric of Ben's shirt as he fought for balance, Ben's weight against him, the Mountie's tongue probing his mouth. He almost cried out with shock and ecstasy, the feel of his tongue sliding against Fraser's making him dizzy and weak. He stumbled backwards, but Ben held him, moving forward against him until Stan felt the wall at his back. Ben leaned into him, the incredible hard bulk of him threatening to crush Stan's chest, cut off his breath. Ben's hips thrust abruptly against his own and this time Stan did cry out, a harsh gasping sound, as he broke the kiss and lifted his head back. He could feel the Mountie's arousal against his hip, the hard reality of it making his head swim. He brought his hands up to grasp Ben's muscled upper arms and pushed him very slightly back.

"Frase. *Fraser.* My...God."

Ben drew back minutely and looked at him. His blue eyes were so dilated they were nearly black, his expression almost frighteningly unfamiliar. Ben aroused. Ben out of control. Was it possible? It was. It was real. Stan scrambled for words. Before he could find them, Ben spoke, his voice an intense whisper in the darkness.

"You thought I had no feelings, is that it? My fault, I suppose. You thought I wasn't human. You were wrong, Ray."

"*No,* Fraser. I never thought that. I just didn't--"

Fraser went on as if he hadn't spoken. "You were so wrong." His hips thrust forward again, making Stan draw a hissing, involuntary breath. He could do nothing but stare back into the Mountie's face, and something in his eyes seemed to penetrate Fraser's clouded mind.

Ben's arms loosened a fraction, and he lifted his pinning weight back, enough for Stan to straighten up and stand on his own feet. They stared at each other, breathing heavily, the room silent around them. Then Ben reached around for one of Stan's hands, taking it strongly in his.

"You never knew what I wanted. My fault again. I couldn't show you." He pulled Stan's hand downwards and placed it over the rock-hard swelling beneath the heavy denim jeans he wore, pressing it almost brutally against himself. Stan closed his eyes, feeling them nearly roll back in his head with shock. Fraser's hand covered his own, wrapping it around a hot, pulsing hardness. "You wanted to know who I was, under the serge, Stan," Ben said, and his voice was beginning to shake. "This is it; this is me. When--when I let go of that control--" and Stan's heart kicked into a gallop at the way Fraser pushed himself into their combined fingers--"it goes, it's gone. I'm...I'm not responsible. I'm not a Mountie any more, Ray. I'm just a man."

And Ben leaned towards him, his open mouth seeking Stan's, his breath hot against him. Stan slid the heel of his hand over the pulsing mound he held, caressing Fraser roughly, fighting for air as the Mountie's tongue threatened to slide down his throat. He groaned, his knees beginning to buckle; wrapped one arm around Fraser's waist. Felt the dizziness increasing...and then suddenly, Fraser broke the kiss, panting, pulling back. Stan stared back at him, struggling for breath and strength and coherence. He heard Ben's shaky voice. "Where's...where's Ray?"

"Right here."

Stan jumped even within the constricting circle of Ben's arm. Ray stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, regarding them quietly. Stan stared wildly into his face for an eternity of seconds, was met with an almost imperceptible wink. His heart threatened to overflow in his chest and he closed his eyes.

Ben seemed to get hold of himself with a supreme effort. He stepped away from Stan, drawing slow breaths, looking from one to the other of them with those vivid eyes. Ray tilted his head on one side and waited, watching him.

"Ray. I mean..." Ben closed his eyes, opened them again.

"I know what you mean, Benny." Ray stepped forward, a gentle smile touching his features. Above it, his eyes were serious, deep green. "What do you want? Tell me."

"I need you to make love to me."

Stan's mouth dropped open, but Ray's expression didn't flicker. He gave a slow nod. "All right, Benny." Ray held out a hand. The Mountie placed his own in it as if hypnotized, his eyes dazed. His other arm wrapped itself around Stan's shoulders.

Ray led them both into the darkened living room. Stan blinked and then shot his lover a sly glance. Ray had pulled the sheets and pillows off the bed and spread them out on the floor.

Ben allowed Ray to draw him into the room, stopping when Ray did. His face was flushed, his expression uncertain. Ray didn't waste time with words; he released Fraser's hand and immediately began working at the Mountie's belt buckle with purposeful, matter-of-fact movements . Stan watched the two of them, unbuttoning himself and skimming out of his faded jeans, peeling his shirt over his head. As Ray pulled Fraser's belt free, the Mountie seemed to come to life. He stepped back, crossing his arms before him, his fingers gripping the hem of his shirt. Stan watched him, awed, shivering in anticipation. Ray gave him a tender, reassuring smile.

Ben pulled his arms up and over his head, tossing the shirt onto the couch. He lifted his eyes almost shyly. They stared as if seeing him for the first time, mutually drinking in his heartstopping beauty.

Ben was deep-chested and smoothly muscled, his shoulders and upper arms strong and rounded. His skin was almost white in the moonlight, creamy-looking, his nipples dusky rose circles. He watched them, a quiet confidence returning to his face.

"Benny." Ray's voice was low. "Has anyone ever told you you're the handsomest man on the planet?"

Ben drew his brows together in a slight frown of concentration. "Actually, they have, Ray."

Stan drove a knuckle into his mouth, barely stifling a raucous giggle. Ray shot him a look, but his own lips were quirking into a smile. They exchanged amused glances.

"Frase, you're beautiful," Stan said, not bothering to inquire whether Fraser had heard *that* one before, as well. Ben looked over at him, seeming to realize for the first time that Stan was undressed, standing unselfconsciously in the clear light of the stars, his lithe body outlined, his arousal evident.

"Oh, my," Ben said, in such a quintessentially Mountie tone that both Ray and Stan had to fight against eruptions of hilarity. He looked Stan up and down, and the two of them clearly picked up his renewed tension, the increase in the rate of his breathing. Stan met Ray's eyes, a look of pure heat passing between them.

Ben's quiet voice startled them. "Touch me. If...if you want to..."

Instantly they were on either side of him. Fraser's strong arms came around them, gripping their waists as if he needed help to stand. Stan slid a hand over the Mountie's chest, sighing at the feel of his skin, like hot satin under his caress. Ray's fingers slipped lower, over Ben's stomach, making him draw a sudden breath and shiver under the touch.

Ray felt Ben's eyes on him and looked into his face. They stared at each other for pulsating seconds; then Fraser closed his eyes, drew a ragged breath, and took Ray's mouth as if he had been waiting three years for this moment.

The kiss was warm, openmouthed, gentle. Ray felt Benny's lips caress his, the warmth of his breath against his face. He felt himself trembling in the Mountie's half-embrace, his body weakening as he leaned against his friend. He was dimly aware of Stan bracing the two of them from Ben's other side. Fraser's tongue slipped tentatively inside his mouth and he slid his own against it, unable to suppress a soft moan. The sound seemed to startle Ben and he broke the kiss softly, his mouth still hovering against Ray's. Their eyes opened.

"Benny..." Ray heard himself say, as if from far away and long ago. "Oh, Jesus. Oh, my sweet love." He closed his eyes, leaned forward again, felt Fraser's mouth hard against him, all hesitation swept away. The Mountie's tongue plundered him, his arm tightening around Ray's waist. Ray reached blindly outward, groping, catching Stan's hand in a deathgrip, his fingers almost cruel. He felt his partner return the strong pressure, anchoring him, connecting them, even as he moaned into Ben's mouth, panted into his kisses.

They broke for air and Ray looked into Ben's dazed face, then over at his lover. Stan's face was flushed, but his eyes on Ray's were warm and steady. A heartbeat of silence and the two of them leaned forward with one motion and kissed each other, feeling Ben's arms wrap them all into a crushing huddle.

"Hey, Vecchio," Stan's breathless, smiling voice. "You're overdressed."

Ray pushed back from them slightly, smiling into his lover's eyes. Stan reached for the buttons on his shirt with nimble fingers. "Hey, Frase. Help me..."

"Certainly, Ray.." Fraser said dreamily, and abruptly his strong fingers were working at Ray's belt, pulling it free. Ray and Stan blinked at each other. The Mountie dropped to his knees, undid Ray's button with a deft motion and pulled down his zipper. A moment later Ray's pants and briefs were puddled around his feet.

"He's so efficient." Stan slipped the last shirt button, slid the silk over Ray's shoulders and downwards.

"I always liked that about him."

Ray stepped out of the pile of clothing, feeling Stan's arm curl around his waist. The two of them looked down into Ben's face. He was kneeling on the sheets, knees spread, bare shoulders gleaming in the starlight. He glanced from one to the other, then lowered his eyes.

They dropped down beside him, moving as one. Stan put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Frase. You okay?"

"I am, thank you kindly, Stan. It's just--" He looked into their concerned faces. "You're in love."

They flashed nearly identical brilliant smiles at him. "Yeah, Benny. We are."

Stan nudged his partner's shoulder. "He has this amazing Mountie perception, don't you think?"

Ben smiled himself. "I'm just a bit...overwhelmed. That you'd share this...with me."

"Don't be, Frase. We want to."

"Benny, really. You have...you have no idea how happy you're making me, right now."

Ben shot each of them a shy, warm glance, then suddenly lay back, lifting his arms above his head, his eyes closing. Ray drew a shivering breath at the picture he made, flicked a glance beside him and saw Stan was equally mesmerized.

"Ray, Jesus." Stan's voice was the barest whisper.

"Come on, help me." Ray reached with trembling fingers for the Mountie's fly, pausing momentarily as Ben's hips lifted against his touch. "Easy, Benny." He looked up to find that Ben had thrown one arm over his eyes.

Ray unfastened the buttons one by one. He could feel Ben's rising hardness beneath the heavy fabric. Stan hooked his fingers gently inside the waistband of Ben's briefs. There was a moment's hesitation, and then Fraser lifted his hips enough for them to slide his remaining clothing downwards.

Ray and Stan drew identical, simultaneous, distinctly audible gasps.

Ben lifted the arm off his face and peered down at them.

Ray looked up into Stan's face, his mouth already quirked into a wry, amused grin. He met his partner's shocked eyes and just managed to suppress a snort of laughter.

"Stan? You okay?" Fraser's voice was calm, inquiring.

"Um, I'm fine, Frase. It's just--you're....Um. You're--"

"I'm Canadian, Stan," Ben deadpanned. They turned astonished faces towards him. Ben raised an eyebrow.

Ray cleared his throat, the laughter threatening. "Are you telling us that, for example, Constable Turnbull--"

"Undoubtedly, Ray. Although I can't speak from personal observation, it's a well-known national statistic that Canadian males are more generously endowed than their American counterparts by a factor of approximately twelve percent. In fact, recent studies--"

"I don't believe it." Stan was shaking his head, his expression incredulous. "He's fibbing. Mounties don't fib."

"Stan." Ben's voice was warm. They looked at him.

"That wasn't a fib. It was a joke."

Ray lost his battle for control and snorted laughter. Ben flashed them a dazzling smile, folding his arms behind his head, his expression momentarily devoid of any trace of shyness. Stan reached out a tentative hand, curling it around the Mountie's awe-inspiring thickness. He slid his fingers down in a slow, gentle caress, watching Ben's face.

Ray leaned in close and kissed his partner's neck, whispering hotly into his ear. "God save the queen, Stanley. Enjoy the ride."

He shifted upwards along Ben's side, lying beside him, feeling the Mountie's arm come around his shoulders warmly. They looked at each other, kissed gently. Ray's fingers drifted downwards over Ben's stomach, feeling the tension in the muscles as Ben's hips began to lift in a slow rhythm. Ray pressed closer, sliding one leg over Ben's thigh, his own hips picking up an involuntary thrusting against the warmth of his friend's body. Ben's hand came around to stroke Ray's hair, cupping the back of his head, pulling them close. He slid his tongue deeply into Ray's mouth, exploring him, the intimate sensation of the kiss seeming to spike his arousal. Ray slid his hand down and wrapped it around Stan's, twining their fingers as his partner worked Ben's pulsing, weeping shaft with expert touches.

Ben's hips lifted with increasing force, and Ray felt his partner settle along his other side, mirroring Ray's position, likewise sliding a slim leg over Fraser's thigh. Ben broke the kiss, panting, his chest heaving. He wrapped his other arm around Stan's shoulders, holding them both tightly. "Ray. *Ray.* Oh God, stop. No. It's too much. I can't...please. *Please.*"

Neither man slowed his stroking. Stan's fingers, slick with Fraser's wetness, slid down to caress his heavy balls. Ray wrapped his hand around his friend's straining cock and pumped steadily, relentlessly, his own hardness throbbing, his hips rocking with harsh rhythm against Ben's warmth.

Ben looked wildly into Stan's face, only to find his lips taken abruptly, his breath sucked into his friend's hot mouth. Stan was shuddering with arousal, his body temperature rising while chills of sensation chased themselves over his flesh. The feel of Fraser's creamy skin under his hands, the eternally familiar scent of him, were irrefutable evidence of the fantasy made real, the months of tortured longing culminating in this moment, this night. He heard the Mountie's low, throaty moans, felt the slick, pulsing length of him in his hand. With a sudden, panting cry, Fraser tore his mouth away and lifted his head back, his arousal pulsing just on the edge of release. As one, they stilled the rhythmic movements of their hands. Ray turned his burning gaze to meet his partner's and mouthed 'I love you' across Ben's chest. Fraser lifted his head and looked from one to the other of them.

"Benny. You all right?" Ray was keeping a steady grip on the Mountie's hardness, not stroking. Ben licked his lips. "Y-yes." His eyes were on Stan's face.

Stan felt a slow blush touch his cheeks at the look in Fraser's dilated eyes. "Hey, Frase. Somethin you want?"

"Yes." The Mountie shifted up on one elbow and hooked a hand around Stan's neck to pull him in for another penetrating kiss. Ray felt his own cock twitch at the picture they made, the kiss hot, openmouthed, hungry, their eyes tightly closed, the muscles in Stan's elegant throat tense. He thought he could watch them all night.

Ben slid his mouth downwards, along Stan's jaw, teasing the skin gently. He was lifting his hips slowly, rhythmically into their combined fingers. Ray kept the pressure light, not allowing him to get too close. He recognized his partner's building arousal as Stan's hips slid with increasing force against Ben's side, his chin lifting as Fraser's mouth trailed liquid fire down into his neck.

"Ray," murmured Ben against Stan's skin.

"Yes," they said together; then smiled, Stan's eyes sliding open, finding his partner's. Ben nipped at Stan's throat and smiled himself. "I want...please. Let me--"

"Ahh, Frase. Hey. Anything, love, anything." Stan shifted downwards, cupped Fraser's face in one hand and looked into his eyes. "You want me."

Fraser turned his head and slit a vivid blue glance at Ray's face, to be met with a slow, steady nod.

"Benny. Take him."

Ben tensed visibly. Stan pushed gently away from him, his movements smooth and slow, calming. "I want you, Frase, okay, don't worry. Please." He flashed his sweetest smile, unknowingly setting off a tiny firestorm of emotion in Ray's heart.

Ray took one of Ben's hands in his, feeling the fingers entwined strongly with his own, and leaned forward to brush a soft kiss against the Mountie's trembling lips. "Loved you forever, Benny." His voice was the barest breath of a whisper. "Always will. Always."

Stan was up on his knees, sliding a hand under the couch cushions. He groped momentarily, withdrew what he sought. Ben blinked.

Ray and Stan looked at each other, then down at the Mountie. "Don't ask."

Fraser shook his head. "I won't."

Stan bent and kissed him softly. He looked up into Ray's eyes, sighing as his lover shifted up to take his mouth, gently, his tongue just teasing Stan's lips.

They broke apart and Stan drew a soft breath, slinking downwards onto the sheets, stretching himself, rolling gracefully onto his back beside Fraser. Ray climbed over both of them to settle on Stan's other side. He ran his fingertips in slow patterns from his partner's collarbone, down over his chest and stomach, raising the tiny hairs, sending shivers over Stan's body.

Ben watched for a moment, then put his own hand out to stroke Stan's skin with smooth, fluid motions. His touch slid downwards as his gaze lifted to Stan's face to meet the pale eyes. Stan looked back at him, his cheeks flushed with arousal, his lips parted. Fraser hesitated for a trembling moment, and closed the warmth of his fingers around him.

Stan's hips came up and he shot a look into Ray's dark eyes. His lover sighed, shifting up to press a warm kiss on his mouth. Murmured against his lips, even as Stan's tongue flicked against his own. "Baby."

"Ray. Love you...ohhhh, God. *Fraser.*" His voice rose, one arm slinging itself tensely around Ray's shoulders. Ben's strong, gentle fingers teased and slid along his length until he was rock-hard and twitching, his balls tight. Ray reached back, groping for the small bottle. Flipping the cap one-handed, he coated his own fingers. "Benny," he said against Stan's lips.

Fraser released his grip on Stan's erection, prompting a faint moan from the man beneath him. "Yes, Ray."

"Let me do this for you, Benny, okay..." Ray slid slightly downwards as Stan lifted his head back, his eyes closing. He picked up the small packet and handed it to Fraser. "It's easier to deal with that when your fingers aren't slippery."

"Quite logical, Ray," Ben said softly. He looked at the small foil square for perhaps five seconds, then abruptly tore it open with his teeth, withdrew the latex circle, and had eight straining inches of Mountie erection sheathed before either of his partners could blink.

Ray shook his head slowly, knowing he'd prompted a quizzical, head-tilted look from his friend even before he looked up and saw it. He chuckled softly. "You're somethin' else, Benny."

And Fraser just smiled. "Thank you kindly, Ray." He looked up along Stan's sprawled body, his eyes darkening. "Ohh, my. He is..."

"...beautiful.." Ray finished for him, his voice edged with desire. He wrapped his slick fingers momentarily around his lover's cock, triggering a harsh gasp. Stan shifted up on his elbows and looked wildly down at them. "Guys, for god's sake--"

"I got you, baby." Ray's voice was husky. He began to slide his fingers smoothly inside, one by one. Stan cried out, head back, his breath coming in jagged gasps. Ben moaned softly. Ray shot a glance into his face; he was staring raptly at the man before them.

Ray felt Stan's heat and tightness around his probing fingers. "Baby, relax, okay? I got you." Stan's hand came down and wrapped itself around his own cock, began to pick up an insistent stroking rhythm--and then froze, at the sudden feel of Ben's fingers closing themselves firmly around his wrist. "No, Ray."

Both men raised startled eyes to his face. Fraser looked steadily into Stan's eyes, his tone sure and heavy with the timbre of command. "We've got you."

And Ben shifted forward, pulled Stan's hand down to his own pulsing thickness. Stan closed his grip around it, then gave a panting moan. He shook his head. "Ahh, Jesus, Frase. You're so--it's almost--" He flashed a helpless look into his lover's face.

Ben's eyes clouded with concern and he looked across at Ray. Ray withdrew his fingers from his partner's body and met Ben's eyes. "Benny. Let me--I know what he needs. Just--just for a minute." He saw the look of understanding in Ben's face, fumbled for another of the foil packets and tore it open.

Ray slipped between his partner's thighs, ran shaking hands down his sides as Stan moaned and tensed, hips lifting. Ben shifted back slightly to watch them; Stan reached blindly for his hand, gripping it tightly.

Ray slid his hands under his lover's hips, capturing his mouth in a breathless kiss as Stan drew his knees up and slung them over his partner's shoulders as easily as if he were getting out of bed. Ben gave an audible gasp, and Ray smiled against Stan's lips even as he positioned himself and drove home with a single smooth effortless stroke.

Stan arched beneath him, his head back, his fingers cruel in Fraser's grip. He felt his lover filling him, Ray's breath hot against his neck. Stan tried to slip his free hand between them, reaching for his own straining hardness; froze at the instantaneous, simultaneous command. "*No.*"

Ray began to move against him rhythmically, steadily, carefully controlling his thrusts so as to keep his lover on the edge. Lifting his mouth, he panted against Stan's ear.

"You want him, baby? Tell me."

Stan groaned under him, trying to angle himself for the precise stimulation he craved. He felt Ray's hips controlling him, preventing the maneuver.

"You want that cock, love?"

"Ahh, God! Yesss..."

"You ready for him?" Ray's voice was shaking; he gritted his teeth, held on to his control.

Stan nodded, eyes closed tightly. "Yeah, Ray. Now."

Ray slid back and out of him, groaning with his own need. Glancing sideways, he drew in a startled breath at the burning intensity he saw in Ben's eyes. "Jesus, Benny. It's--all right. Take him."

Ben positioned himself as soon as Ray had shifted clumsily to one side. He raised one hand to cup Stan's jaw, waiting until the pale eyes opened and found his own.

"Fraser?" A bare, panting whisper.

"I love you, Ray."

"Aww, Frase..." But Stan's control was gone, his need urgent. He hooked his slim legs over the Mountie's shoulders without preamble, arching beneath him; tried to grind his throbbing erection against Ben's stomach. Ray was forced to close his eyes, his arousal threatening to overload just from the visual.

Ben's hands found Stan's hips with gentle sureness. He pressed himself against the hot, slick center of Stan's body; rolled his own hips forward inch by shuddering inch.

"Christ Jesus, Fraser! Ohhh, GOD!"

Ben froze, but did not pull back. He watched Stan's face, waited until his friend looked into his eyes. His voice was low, soothing, shaking only slightly. "Shall I stop?"

"No. *No.* Just--slow, Frase..."

"Understood." He pushed forward, closing his eyes. Ray watched them, feeling his own arousal throb, his heart knocking. Stan gasped and shuddered, clawing at Fraser's back, chin lifting to expose his slender neck. Ben slid forward in a series of slow, rocking thrusts, sliding deeper each time. His mouth found Stan's throat.

Stan moaned and bucked beneath him, the sensation of Ben's breath and tongue against his neck sending his excitement spiraling up, past the reach of control. He wrapped himself around Fraser's solid, crushing weight, trying to pull him deeper until the burning, hollow need within him was ecstatically filled. He was seconds away from the ultimate release, so hard he ached, his breath ragged, hitching gasps. And then he felt the Mountie's warm fingers take hold of him.

Ray's husky voice. "Benny. If you do that, he'll--"

"I know, Ray." Ben lifted his head from Stan's neck, his voice dreamy. He continued to stroke his friend in time with his own strong, slow thrusts, feeling Stan pulse against his fingers.

"Fraser. You--ohhh, God. Love you. Love you. Love--" He cried out, locking his legs around Ben's shoulders, sliding his hips upwards. He could hear his whispered name on Ben's lips as the hot, flooding wetness spread between them; feel the tremendous tension in the Mountie's body as Ben forcibly stilled his own thrusts, his hands gentle on Stan's hips. Stan reached a trembling hand towards his face, looking into the brilliant blue eyes. He struggled for breath to speak. "Fraser. Are you--?"

Ben kissed him, slipped backwards out of him. "I'm quite all right, Stan. Thank you." His voice was strained, his body visibly trembling.

Stan shifted back, unwrapping his limbs from Fraser's body. Turning his head towards his partner, he almost moaned aloud at the sight of him.

Ray was up on his knees, every muscle tense and outlined, the fingers of one hand teasing his erection with slow, deliberate touches. He met Stan's eyes for a heated second, then looked at Ben. Fraser lifted his head, looking over his shoulder into Ray's burning stare. Closed his eyes. "Ray."

"Right here, Benny."

"I need you to--"

"Oh yeah, Benny."

Biting his lip, Fraser spread his hands on the sheets. Ray shifted behind him, draping forward, sliding his palms over Ben's sweaty, muscled back. "It's all right, Benny. Trust me." His voice had dropped to a whisper.

Stan gathered his strength and rolled gracefully to one side, out of their way. He picked up the small bottle where it lay on the sheets and handed it wordlessly to his partner. Lying back, he rested his head just beneath Ben's head and shoulders and looked up into the blue eyes.

"Hey, Frase. Don't worry. He won't hurt you. Ray's..." He closed his eyes. "He's just the best there is, okay?"

"I heard that, Kowalski." Ray smiled against Ben's warm skin.

"Oh, terrific. Like you aren't already impossible to live with."

"I'm not worried, Stan." The Mountie's voice was shaking, his cheeks flushed. Yet there was no fear on his face. He lifted his head back, and Stan gave in to an impulse to shift upwards and flick his tongue against his neck.

Ben shuddered, shifting forward. Stan heard Ray's low voice behind him. "Easy, Benny." He looked up into Ben's face, and Ben lowered his head, his kiss punctuated with soft, passionate moans. Stan whispered into his mouth. "Ssshh, Frase, he's got you. Just relax...."

Ben's panting sped up as Ray worked his coated fingers into him. Stan slid sideways, positioning himself to give Fraser access to his face and throat. He reached out with trembling fingers and caressed Ben's stomach, smiling as the Mountie gave a high-pitched gasp and arched up. Ben moaned and sought Stan's mouth with sudden hot force, his tongue thrusting.

Ray's voice, as if from far away. "Okay, boys." Stan knew it was a warning for himself as well as Fraser. He broke the kiss, shifting slightly out of the path of Ben's weight.

"Benny. Love."

"Yes, Ray." Stan realized with awe that Ben's shoulders were shaking.

"You want me?"

"Yes, Ray."

"Tell me."

Stan reached up a hand and slid his fingers through Fraser's sweatdampened hair, brushing it off his forehead.

"I--I need you to make love to me, Ray. I used to--" he broke off, pressing his face against Stan's caressing touch. "I used to--" Swallowing, he lifted his head once more, his voice dropping to a bare whisper. "I used to dream about it."

Ray was inside him in one slow steady push, his strong fingers gripping the Mountie's hips. Ben panted harshly, his head up, his eyes tightly closed. His solid body braced itself, his hips pressing back against Ray's.

"Fraser," Ray whispered. "All right?"

"Yes. Ohhh. *Please*..."

Stan slid back away from them, where Fraser could catch his eye should the impulse strike him. He watched his lover's lean, strong body moving against Ben's, Ray's skin dark in contrast to the Mountie's smooth whiteness. They picked up a strong, insistent, rocking rhythm, Ben's head dropping in concentration as Ray's hands slid up along his back and sides.

"Stan." Whispered. Startled, Stan raised his head, realized his lover was staring at him. He got up on his knees and moved swiftly to Ray's side.

"Kiss me, baby."

Stan leaned into him, taking his hot, panting mouth, moaning as Ray's tongue flicked inside and slid against his own. He reached out a hand, placed it on Ben's back, caressed the heated slickness of his skin.

Ray broke the kiss abruptly, his rhythm shifting, becoming more intense. Stan moved back and settled on his side, watching them raptly. Ben raised his head, his upper arms tensing. "Ray. *Ray.* God. I can't--please. Yes. *Yes.*"

Ray leaned forward, wrapped his slick fist around Ben's heated shaft. His fingers encountered slippery latex and he slid the condom off with practiced ease, smiling in spite of himself. Ben gasped at the sudden feel of Ray's hand on his bare skin, cried out again, incoherently. Unable to resist, Stan slipped his body under the Mountie's as far as he could fit, spreading himself out, panting, waiting. Ben seemed not to notice his presence, his eyes tightly closed, his head far back. Stan watched Ray's fingers pulling and squeezing at Ben's thick hardness, felt a sympathetic throb of sensation deep within his own groin as Ray's hips suddenly canted forward, his thrusts striking with expert precision, tearing a breathless, almost agonized cry from Ben's lips. Stan had a few pulsating, shivering moments to admire Fraser's rapt expression before Ray's raw, shaking voice warned them both.

"Ohhhh Jesus, Benny!" He slammed forward with punishing, shuddering strokes, emptying himself inside the slick heat, triggering an answering shout from Ben. Stan felt the hot, splattering slickness against his belly and chest and braced himself, tensing. A second later, the Mountie collapsed heavily on top of him--dead, panting weight.

END PART THREE