Black and White
Author's notes: Set after the events of Juliet is Bleeding. I always felt it was unfair that Fraser got 3 episodes to deal with Victoria and Ray only got 1 for Irene, so here is my attempt to even things out.
Rated: PG
It was over a week since Fraser had last seen or spoken to his partner. There had been the brief, momentary revelation in the hospital, when Ray was still in shock over Irene's death, but after accompanying him in the taxi home, there had been nothing. Silence. The day after the night before, he left his first message with Elaine; there had been at least half a dozen more after that. Then tonight, he'd finally plucked up the courage to go to the Vecchio's family home. Maria had answered the door, and he would never have guessed how relieved he'd be when it wasn't Francesca or worse, Ray's mother. Both expected the Mountie, their adopted family member, to somehow look after their eldest, as though the two were inseparable, and even Maria had worn that surprised look when Fraser asked if she knew where her brother was.
"Sorry, Fraser. We kind of thought he'd be with you."
A flash of guilt. He remembered shaking his head, lowering his eyes shamefully. "No."
"Oh. Well, he was at work last I knew, said he might be working late." Maria looked at him sadly then, as though he didn't yet know what was to come. "You have to work this thing through with him. Ma's worried . . . we've barely seen him since, well, you know . . ."
He knew. And now he was here, searching the streets for his friend, knew he wasn't at the station house, whatever he had told his family. Had a horrible, sinking suspicion he knew, at least vaguely, where he could be found. Ray had only spoken occasionally about his father, and they were moments he treasured, an acknowledgement of intimacy and trust he'd never had with any other person. A trust he'd now betrayed. He knew Ray's father had not been the perfect parent, knew he liked to drink, even - and here he was going off hints - taken out his frustration on his children. Knew that much of Ray's insecurities stemmed from his fear that he would follow his father's path, end up becoming the very person he despised. But nevertheless, it was a bar he knew he would find his partner, did find him, saw his silhouette through the window, almost as though he wanted to be found.
He was sat on a stool by the frosted glass window, huddled over a small glass. Shoulders hunched, head ducked low, never reacted when Fraser came up behind him.
"Ray."
"It's alright," a small voice answered him, a small nod towards the glass, "It's only my second. I'm not going to . . . well . . . " He broke off.
Fraser hesitated, unsure of how to continue. "I tried phoning you at the station house."
"I'm still suspended, remember? Besides, I think Lou . . ." Another pause. "Doesn't matter."
"I wanted to speak to you."
No reply.
Fraser hovered for a moment, uncertain, with Ray not once turning round to look at him, or offering a seat. In the end he decided that after coming here, after finding him, he couldn't just walk away, and pulled up a stool beside Ray. For a long time they just sat there, in silence, Ray with his gaze fixed on the table and Fraser unwilling, or unsure, of what to say. His friend seemed thinner in the shadows, the vaguest hint of stubble across his cheeks, his hands clutched tight around the glass as though afraid to let go. Eventually, it was he who broke the silence.
"You know, I think you need to actually be drinking something or they'll throw you out."
"Ah." Fraser turned, waved vaguely at a waitress, asked in hushed tones for a coffee. She looked vaguely bemused at him, then shrugged and disappeared behind the counter.
"I was worried about you," he confessed, after she'd left.
"I'm okay." Another long silence. Eventually Ray turned his head, looked up at Fraser with empty eyes that made his heart break with guilt.
"Why'd you come, Benny? Because the last thing I want is . . ." He hesitated, then returned his gaze to the table.
"I wanted . . ." A pause. "I wanted to check you were alright. And I wanted . . . I wanted to talk to you. To . . ." He couldn't say it, couldn't, because it sounded so small and feeble in light of all the loss.
"I wanted to say sorry," he finished.
A small, hollow laugh. "S' funny. I've heard a lot of those recently."
There was another silence, broke by the arrival of the waitress with Fraser's coffee. It took several more minutes before either man said anything more. Fraser stared out at the smudges of lights outside, the streaks that were car headlamps, the neon glow from street lamps, the brief smudges of colour that were passerbys, huddled over in the cold. Snowing. Why was it always snowing?
"You shouldn't have come here," Ray said, softly. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to see you."
"Yeah." Doubtful. "Maybe you should have just left me alone."
"If you want me to I can go."
A small pause, then a sigh. "No. Truth is . . . I was kinda hoping you'd come find me. I wanted to talk." The reflection of his friend's face in the window looked up, added: "To say sorry."
Fraser turned to face him. "Ray . . . you have nothing to be sorry for."
"Sure I do. I shouldn't have been so damn stubborn about Zuko. You were right, he didn't kill Gardino. But then, I wanted nothing more than to see Frankie behind bars, or worse. And things got confusing."
"And now?"
"Now . . ." His eyes closed, briefly. "It doesn't matter. Frank Zuko . . . doesn't matter." He opened his eyes, turned to catch Fraser's gaze. "But I should have stood by you. A friend doesn't abandon his friends. His partner."
This time it was Fraser's turn to lower his eyes. "You were right," he said, eventually. "There's a line, and I crossed it. Frank Zuko is a criminal. Louis Gardino was a friend."
"A cop," Ray added, softly. "But Zuko didn't plant that bomb. And I know I might have said some stuff that, well . . ." He hesitated. "I might even have meant it at the time. But now . . . if Frankie had gone down for the murder, if the real killer had been loose . . . I wasn't angry at you because you betrayed our partnership, or being a cop, though I guess Huey and the others see it that way. It's 'cos you were trying to protect Zuko. Or at least I thought you were." He looked up suddenly. "Why didn't you find me earlier, Fraser?"
"I asked Maria . . ."
"I mean at the precinct. Elaine or Jack would have told you where I was."
Fraser stirred his coffee with the spoon, slowly. "I was afraid of going back there," he admitted. "They hate me. And they're probably right."
Ray's eyes widened. "Is that why? You think they hate you? Man, Benny . . . you're wrong. They don't hate you. Maybe, well, maybe there are some feelings still, about Zuko going free. But that's my responsibility. But they got the guy, and after they get a chance to think about things . . ." He broke off, swallowing hard, rubbing one hand across his head tiredly.
"Ray . . ." Fraser stopped, shocked that he hadn't said anything earlier, hadn't recognised his friend's state of near exhaustion. "You should go home. Get some sleep."
A shake of his head. "Can't sleep. I keep seeing her face . . ." Bit off sharply. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed, barely audible, his eyes fixed on the table. "It's like a piece of me's died, you know? And I can't get it back, and it hurts so bad, knowing I'm never . . ."
His shoulders tensed beneath the coat, and Fraser reached out to place a hand on his back, gently. "It will be alright."
"That's what I told her," he whispered. "Told her to close her eyes and everything would be alright. But I lied to her, and I never lied to her before, not about anything, not about how I felt for her, not about sneaking up to her bedroom, not about keeping secrets. I never broke a promise to her before." His jaw clenched tightly. "If I hadn't been so damn stupid. I should never have gone up against Frankie, I should have just ignored him, walked out of that restaurant and gone someplace else. Maybe then . . . maybe Gardino and Irene would still be alive."
"You can't think like that," Fraser told him. "You can't question every decision you made. It's not going to help either them or you."
Quietly: "She warned me. She told me that the only way this was gonna end was with either me or Frankie dead. Only she was wrong. Someone had to die before we finally let it go, but . . ." He choked, buried his head in his hands. Behind him, the waitress turned and gave them a strange look, and Fraser caught sight of her stare in the window.
"Ray . . ." Gently: "You could come to my apartment. If you'd like."
He looked up, rubbing his face again. "'Kay," he said, sheepishly, pushing back the chair and standing up. Fraser fished in his own wallet for enough money to pay for the coffee and Ray's drinks, left the change on the counter.
Snowing still outside. Fraser moved between the pedestrians to try and hail a cab, but Ray grabbed his arm.
"Is it okay if we walk?" he asked. "I just want to, I dunno . . . I don't want to go just yet."
"Alright."
They started trudging across the snow, where brown slush undertrod during the day was slowly disappearing under a fresh layer of white. Ray buried his hands deep into his sleeves, huddling under his coat.
"Ray . . ." Fraser paused. "I'm sorry. I want you to know, if I'd known what was going to happen, I would never have . . ."
"What?" Ray glanced at him. "Got Frankie off?"
"Yes."
"That's not you, Benny. Besides, you can't be sure that things wouldn't have turned out the same way, that Frankie wasn't up to his neck in it, any of that stuff. His own guys were turning on him. They wouldn't have stopped at going after his family." A small pause. "You said it yourself, you can't go back and wish you could change things. It doesn't work like that."
They were passing a small park, the bare branches of the trees hung heavy with fairy lights, ready for Christmas. Ray stopped, looked up at the lights.
"She took me skating, once," he said, wistfully. "I told her I couldn't skate, but she insisted and I went anyway, just because she asked. We went to this open-air rink, and she looked so beautiful under the lights . . . 'til I broke my ankle falling over without her to catch me. I was in plaster for almost two weeks." He gave a small smile. "So stupid."
Fraser followed Ray's gaze into the night air, then turned to face his friend seriously. "It wasn't your fault."
No reply. Ray started walking again, turning into the park, Fraser on his heel, his feet crunching against snow. Silence for a long time, under the trees. Alone, undisturbed except for a homeless guy fast asleep on a park bench, oblivious.
"Christmas soon," Ray said, eventually. He shivered, struggling to push his hands even further into his sleeves.
"You're cold."
"Uh-huh." Continued walking, without turning.
Fraser reached out and touched his friend's shoulder. Warningly: "Ray . . ."
He turned, sharply, knocked Fraser's hand away. "I promised her," he said, angrily, his face tight. "I told her it would be okay. But I couldn't . . . I lied to her . . ." His voice broke, and he buried his face in his hands. Fraser reached out, awkwardly, pulled Ray into an embrace, one hand on his back, Ray's head on his shoulder.
"It's not your fault," he told him, felt him tremble. "You never lied to her."
His voice came muffled through cloth, "I told her to close her eyes, told her it would be alright . . ."
"She asked you to end it, the war between you and Frank Zuko. And you have."
There was a small pause, and then Ray pulled away, rubbing his face hard. "Yes," he said, with difficulty. "Frankie . . . I don't think he'll ever forgive himself for killing her."
"And you?"
"I don't blame him for it, it was an accident, he was trying to shoot me . . ."
"I don't mean if you forgive Zuko. Ray, do you forgive yourself?"
"How can I?" He took a step away, hands clenching and unclenching. "If I hadn't . . . She told me it would kill someone. I wanted to be with her so much, but I ended up killing her for it. I loved her so badly, but it was enough, she couldn't leave him, not even when he hurt her, she wouldn't leave with me. I wanted to drag her out of there . . ."
"Ray . . ." Fraser reached out and placed his hand on his friend's arm, stepped closer.
"I went to see her," he admitted, softly. "When Frankie was arrested. Climbed up that goddamn awful vine that's up the side of the house - she had to pull me in through her bedroom window. It felt like we were teenagers again. She'd pulled down those big curtains, and she . . ." Broke off. "I told her I loved her. How I've always loved her. I'd not seen her in so long, then she turns up again and its like all those feelings never went away, and I'm ready to start all over again, make it just like when we were kids. No Frankie, no nothing. Then she's taken away from me."
He closed his eyes, said plaintively: "She shouldn't have died, Benny. I wanted it to be me, it should have been me . . ."
"Ray . . ."
He opened his eyes, caught Fraser's gaze.
"Can we go?"
"Home?"
"Your apartment."
He nodded.
They started walking, again, feet crunching across snow, stars above them, breath forming crystals in the cold night air. Ray kept his head lowered, hands buried deep into sleeves, and Fraser was content at present to study the ground beneath his feet, and the trees coated with snow around him. Pretty soon they were out on the streets, heading into the decidedly shady area of town that housed Fraser's apartment block. Ordinarily Ray would have refused to even approach the area without his gun drawn, and the cars on his Riv securely locked. Fraser shivered, an image in his mind he knew he would be unable to shake for as long as the memory was fresh. Spoke up, suddenly.
"Ray . . . I knew something was wrong. When Louis went back to your car. I had a . . . a hunch." His friend raised his head, but Fraser refused to look at him. "But I couldn’t get to him, couldn't warn him in time, and every time I go over it in my mind I know there was nothing I could have done. But I can't help blaming myself. And it's worse than that. When the car exploded, after the heat and the flames, all I could think was . . . how glad I was it wasn't you." He lowered his head for a moment. "Louis Gardino is - was- my friend. But you are my partner. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you."
There was a small silence. Eventually, Ray asked softly: "Is that supposed to stop me from doing something stupid?"
"I don't believe you're going to."
"Then what?"
"I want you to know that . . ." He hesitated. "I didn't know her. I know I hated her brother, everything he represented. But if you loved her . . . I'm sure she would want you to keep living your life."
Ray cocked his head to one side, told him half-jokingly: "Jeez, Benny, that sounds so corny. But . . . thanks."
They continued walking for a while, feet crunching against snow. Fraser could feel the cold through the thick soles of his boots, and could only imagine that Ray's toes were numb under thin leather.
"I shouldn't have agreed to that walk. You're cold. We should be indoors."
"Benny, I wanted to. Besides . . ." He looked up at the sky. "It's kinda pretty out here."
"If you're hungry we could pick up take-out. I know Dief would appreciate."
"I'm okay, really, thanks anyway. 'Fraid the wolf is gonna go hungry. Look, Benny, you can go, if you want. I can go home."
He answered seriously. "I'm not leaving."
There was a short silence, before Ray said slowly: "Fine. Your choice."
It was another good few minutes before they reached Fraser's apartment, the cold even more biting despite the high-rise buildings and the warmth uttered from shop windows. Fraser led the way up the stairs, avoiding the lift after the recent, unfortunate experience of Mrs Molachi and her Dashund. Fumbled at the lock, caused Ray's eyes to widen.
"When did you -"
"Oh." He felt a slight hint of colour rise to his cheeks. "Eight nights ago."
"Oh." Ray swallowed, hard. "You mean, when we went to that restaurant and met -"
"Zuko."
"Jeez . . ." Pushed out air through his teeth. "I forgot. I mean, god, I don't mean that, how could I forget, but I didn't say anything . . ."
"I'll make coffee," Fraser interrupted, disappearing into the kitchen. Ray remained hovering in the barren area that served as a bedroom, looked down at Dief. The wolf greeted him with a small whine, and he bent down and began to, foolishly, rub his fur.
"Bet you're cold, huh. Hell, you're an Arctic wolf . . . you shouldn't be cold."
Dief nuzzled his hand, left wet trails across his fingers. Normally Ray would have pulled back, whinging about wolf goo, but tonight he made no complaint, enjoying the feel of fur against his hands.
"I've put the kettle to boil."
Ray stood up, patting Dief on the head, made his way into the kitchen. Ducked his head. "Fraser, about the door -"
"It's nothing, Ray, really."
"You were afraid. Of Zuko."
The Mountie looked away, staring at stove. "I . . ."
"Benny, you have never locked your door, not in all this time I've known you. But you did last week, obviously."
"Please, Ray . . ."
He sank down onto a chair at the kitchen table, waited for Ray to pull up the other one before speaking again. Looked down at his shoes, then back up, staring into something unseen. "It wasn't your fault."
"Zuko?"
"All of it."
"Yeah." He shrugged, barely visible under his jacket. "Keep telling me that when you see Huey next."
"Ray -"
"Please, Benny . . . don't make me tell you you're wrong."
"Ray -"
"If I hadn't riled Zuko, if I'd just left, then they would never have recognised the thing between me and Frankie, never tried to frame him. Not like that."
"They tried to kill you."
"Yeah. Maybe it would have been better . . ." He trailed off, chose not to finish the thought. "You were there, Benny," he continued, eventually. "The funeral. When you're a cop, you expect them, you know, you expect you'll lose people, maybe even friends, but it doesn't make it any easier. But this wasn't just your 'line of duty' thing. Gardino never got a chance at going down a hero. It was the whole . . . you know? How sudden it was."
The whistle of a kettle broke his next sentence. Ray stood at the same time Fraser did, feeling awkward. Watched him pour out two mugs of black coffee, apologise for the lack of milk, sugar, or anything else to dull the bitterness.
Fraser refused to meet his friend's eyes as he handed him a cup. "I'm sorry," he repeated, words echoing those of earlier.
"For what? You didn't pull the trigger."
"No . . ." He didn't sound so sure.
"Spill, Benny. I know when you're covering up something."
A hesitation. "I'm partly to blame for Irene's death."
His hands tightened around the mug, though his voice remained eerily calm. "Yeah? How do you work that out?"
"If I hadn't interfered with Frank Zuko's release from custody, he would not have returned to his home."
"Yeah? I thought we'd covered this. You were doing what you thought was the only thing to do. Justice."
"But what if I was -"
"You were right, Benny," he said, firmly. "You couldn't have foreseen what was gonna happen afterwards."
"But I should have informed you about all I suspected. I should have never gone to see Zuko's men without telling you of my intentions, of my belief. But -"
"But you couldn't," he said, simply. "We turned against you, Benny. I'm so sorry about that. If we hadn't, if we -"
"You had every right," Fraser answered, abruptly. "I told him of Zuko's release, knowing that he would follow him, try to kill him rather than be killed himself."
"You were setting him up, Fraser. You were getting him to admit what we couldn't through normal methods."
"There should have been a different way."
"No!" Angry, now. "Stop blaming yourself, Benny! There's plenty of it to go around, but you shouldn't get any of it. Ifs, and buts, and should haves - it's stupid! If I hadn't gone after Frankie at the restaurant, if I hadn't danced with Irene, or been to see her, if I had listened to you after Gardino died , if I'd been quicker, stopped it, taken it for her . . ." Choked, paled suddenly, swayed, dropped the mug to where it shattered against the floor, Fraser grabbing him around the waist just in time to slide him to the floor.
"Ray, Ray, Ray . . ." Tapped his friend on the cheek gently. "Are you alright?"
The answer, slow in coming, was muffled. Fraser kept tight grip on his arm, felt him shudder. "Yeah. . . sitting on my butt in the middle of your really cold apartment floor . . ."
"Ray -"
"Relax Benny." But he didn't add 'I'm fine.'
"The last few days have been a lot for you to deal with. Maybe -"
Ray's eyes snapped open suddenly, startlingly clear hazel. "Not just me. You, and Huey, and everyone. Gardino's family."
Fraser chose to change the subject. "Ray, when was the last time you had something to eat? Or sleep?"
No answer.
"We shouldn't have gone for that walk. Not in the snow."
Ray gave what might have been a laugh. "God, don't blame yourself for that as well, Benny. that's just getting stupid."
"Maybe your family -"
"I'm not going home."
"Please Ray."
He shook his head resolutely. "Not home. I couldn't . . . don't make me."
Fraser thought for a moment, then suggested: "If you'd allow me to reassure your mother as to your whereabouts, you could stop at my apartment."
He automatically started to shake his head. "You don't have to do that."
"Ray, I can understand that you don't wish to return to your home, not yet, but we are already here, I have my bedroll, and if Diefenbaker promises not to snore -"
"Yeah? The wolf snores?"
"Ray -"
A small smile. "Alright, Benny, you win." Allowed Fraser to help him up, gently propel him to the bed. Tried to resist, and completely failed.
"Benny, no! I'm not taking your bed as well, I've already spilt coffee everywhere -"
"Ray."
It was practically a 'shut up.' Reluctantly, Ray slipped his jacket off, let his shoes drop to the floor, and climbed into the bed, pulling up the blankets, still fully clothed. Paused. Started fiddling with the loose threads. "Do you ever think, maybe there's some sort of fate at work? Like maybe this began earlier, when me and Frankie were kids, bickering in the playground. Irene always knew it would end with the two of us trying to kill each other, when we were kids, and now, when we're adults. Maybe . . . maybe you were meant to do all this, to get Frankie off."
"And Irene?"
"Maybe it was supposed to happen. Someone had to get killed if this was gonna stop. Only . . ." He trailed off. "I wish it wasn't her."
"Ray, I realise this probably isn't going to help, but . . . I'm glad that it wasn't you."
The hint of a smile. "Thanks, Benny." Looked up. "You gonna babysit me all night?"
"I don't know," he answered, truthfully, having finished picking up all the pieces of shattered cup. "I think it depends."
Ray didn't ask 'on what?' He lowered his head, rubbed one hand across his scalp tiredly. "I never thought anything could be this hard."
"I know." He paused, then started setting up his bedroll.
"It gets easier though, right?"
No answer. Ray sighed, settled back into the bed. "Tomorrow, we're going to the precinct house."
"I thought Lieutenant Welsh -"
"I gotta pick up some stuff."
"Ray . . ." Fraser frowned, sat up. "Is this some plan -"
"I just want to convince you that, well, that nobody at the precinct blames you. Because, well, they don't. I mean, everyone's still trying to get over things, Huey's taken a couple of days off, it's . . . they'll be glad to see you."
Fraser lay back, stared up at the ceiling.
"I'm not sure."
"Benny, please. You can't avoid the place forever if I'm still working there."
Eventually: "Alright. But Ray -"
"Mmm?"
"You shouldn't blame yourself, either."
A long pause. "I know," he said, eventually. "Benny, about the door . . ."
"Ray-"
"You should have told me. If I'd known about how you felt, I wouldn't have been so stubborn in that restaurant. I wouldn't have made you sit there. God, if I'd known . . ."
"Please . . ."
"I didn't forget," he said, softly. "About last time. I can't."
"That wasn't your fault."
"Frankie . . ." Broke off. "Just promise me that the next time you want to lock your doors because of something, you'll tell me."
"I promise."
Another silence.
"Ray . . . You have to believe that it wasn't your fault. You can't . . . you can't dwell on what might have been."
Quietly: "I know."
There was another long silence, more comfortable than the ones before. Broken by a strange, guttural growling, a snuffle.
"That was the wolf, right?"
"Yes. Sorry."
Ray smiled, the first genuine smile in a while. "That, I'll let you apologise for."
These characters are not mine, I only borrowed them and promise to put them back when I'm done! Comments appreciated.