The Better Part



Written 29 June 2002

This work is not to be archived or shared in any way
without the express written permission of the author. Thank you.

I just got here. It's snowing to beat the band and I'm watching him, sight for sore eyes, my hands wrapped tight around a mug of steaming tea. I'm tired, but I'm hyped up, can't seem to sit still.

Fraser and me, we went on an adventure together and had a wonderful time, and then he got assigned up here in the great snowy wasteland. He got to leave Chicago behind, leave me behind. When I went home, it seemed so weird, so strange, not to have him there by my side. I kept turning to say something to him, and he wasn't there. And I missed him. Missed him something terrible.

He was here. In Canada. Where he belonged. In another country – might as well be another world as far as I was concerned.

After two months of Fraser-less existence in Chicago, Illinois, I cracked. I couldn't take it. The nights were the worst. It finally got to where I wasn't sleeping but maybe two hours a night, and I need more sleep than that. But I couldn't sleep without him by my side. I quit the force, I came back here. To Canada. To Fraser. Showed up here in the middle of the night, snow falling hard. To say he was surprised to see me was an understatement.

When I got here, his cabin was dark, and I was out here all alone – out here, alone seems more somehow – and I just freaked, sort of. I pounded on the door, and when he didn't answer right away, I thought I was really here by myself, that he'd gone maybe on patrol, or maybe he was working, or – shit, hundreds of possibilities ran through my brain as to why Benton Fraser wasn't answering his door, ending with the thought that maybe he really didn't want to see me anymore. When he finally answered the door in his long johns, his eyes wide and surprised, I could have hugged him, could have told him everything right then and there, but he ushered me inside before I could say a word, told me to go put on warm clothes while he made tea and started a fire.

Standing in his bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like hell, but I was so relieved to be here, I didn't care. I hung my wet jeans and coat over the shower rod and threw on some sweats and shuffled out of the bathroom.

Now we're sitting here, me on one end of his couch, him on the other, sipping tea. I'm thinking about how much I love him, and how I can't live without him. How'm I gonna break that news to him? Say, Hey Fraser, I love you, okay? And I can't sleep without you next to me, so I'm just gonna stay here with you, okay? Right. Sure.

A week after I got home, I was rummaging through my cabinets for something to eat and I found a round of oatmeal that Fraser had kept over at the apartment. I choked up, squeezing that damn container tight, missing Fraser so bad I thought I would die from it. I loved Benton Fraser. And he was in Canada.


"Huh?" I croak, torn from my thoughts at hearing my name.

"Are you all right? You look a bit pale."

"Yeah, I'm good."

Ben peers at me like he does when he doesn't believe me, but he doesn't say he doesn't believe me, he just looks at me.

"Really. I'm good."

He just rubs his eyebrow and I smile at him, trying to reassure him that I'm okay, when he says quietly, "Ray… if… I was in love with someone –"

My heart drops to my feet. Not that I really thought that I'd have a chance in hell, but… "Yeah, Fraser?" I hope my voice doesn't sound as shaky to him as it sounds to me.

"If… that person… if –"

I twitch. "Fraser," I growl. Just get it over with Ben, God.

"If that person was a man, how would you feel?"

I just stare at him for a long moment, and he looks away from me.

"I…" I swallow hard but drag a smile up from God knows where for him. He must've met someone since he's been here, is all I can think. "I'd be happy for you." He looks up at me, startlement in his eyes. I forge on. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

"Because I…" he looks away again, rubs his eyebrow and then looks up, his eyes holding me in place even though I don't want to be here, don't want to hear this. "I love you, Ray."

"Huh?" My mouth falls open and I blink. "Huh?"

"I love you," Fraser says, his voice loud in his cabin. "I have, for a long time."

"You have?" I squeak, almost dropping my mug of tea.

He looks worried, really worried, and I see his eyes shuttering, I see him pulling his defences up, shutting me out, and I put the mug down and lunge at him. He falls back onto his couch with an 'oof', surprise written across his face. "Ray?"

I don't even think about it, about what I'm doing, stretched out on top of him. He's big, and he feels so good, and I kiss him. How hard can kissing be? I haven't ever kissed another man before, but that doesn't mean it's much different than kissing a woman.

He makes a low, needy sound as my tongue slides into his mouth, and he clutches me tight, and I revise my 'not much different than kissing a woman' thought – this is hotter than hell on Sunday, and God, I can't get enough of him. I could eat him, I could drown in him.

We're kissing, hot and sloppy, when he pulls his mouth away from mine. "W-wait, Ray."

"Huh?" I have no blood in my brain, it's all in my dick, and I just want to get naked with him.

"Are you s-sure?" He looks up at me, hope and worry shining in his eyes and I feel… God, I feel so fucking much love for him.

"Yeah. I'm sure. You?" I try to calm down, try not to think with my dick. It's hard though, when he's under me, his cock pressing against mine, his mouth wet and warm, his hair mussed.

"Ray, I don't –"

"This is it, this is us, this is it, Fraser," I babble. "Me and you, and only us, and I've wanted you for fucking ever. I love you, okay? I'm here, right? I just fucking showed up here and you let me in."

"I've always let you in," he says as he reaches up and cups my cheek. "Let's go to bed, Ray. You're tired, and I've got to work in the morning."

I try not to feel disappointed, try not to think that he's, you know, pushing me away, that he doesn't want this, so I push myself off of him and hold my hand out to help him up. He gives it a squeeze and keeps a tight hold on my hand as he leads me to his bedroom.

I stand by his bed and look down at it – it's huge. "Big bed, Fraser."

"Yes. Well. I had hoped…" he reaches down and smoothes an imaginary wrinkle out of the flannel sheet.

"You hoped?" I've got to ask, need to know, need to hear the words. "You wanted me to come back?"

"I wanted you to come back. I wanted you to be with me." Fraser looks at me, and there's something, something sweet and gentle and needy in his eyes, and I can't help it. I move over to him, wrapping my arms around him, hugging him tight.

After a minute or so of us clutching each other, exhaustion hits me like a ton of bricks and I sway, letting him hold me up.

"I'm here. I love you. I missed you so fucking bad." I choke up and force the words out, "Need you, okay? I need to be with you. Even if, even if you just want to be friends, only friends. I just need you." I'm so tired, and this is so fucking emotional, I feel like crying.

"Ssh," Fraser murmurs, running his hand through my hair. "Let's get some rest, Ray. We can talk later. All that matters is that we're together again."

"Yes," I whisper, closing my eyes for a minute, trying to calm down. Finally I pull out of his arms and undress, sliding into bed naked.

His eyes are hot and his hands are shaking as he unbuttons his long johns, and then he's standing there, at the foot of the bed, naked, looking at me with so much love in his eyes that all I can do is just hold my arms open. He comes to me, carefully settling his weight on top of me and he kisses me, real gentle like, which chokes me up again.

He drops kisses on my eyes and cheeks and my chin, and then he hugs me tight, just holds me close.

I run my hands across his back and mumble, "Feels right."

"Yes, it does." Fraser's breath ghosts across my ear and I turn my head a little, kissing him again, dropping sloppy, half-formed kisses on his face and I can feel him smile. "Go to sleep, Ray."

"Wake me up when you leave for work?" I mumble, tightening my grip on him. I want to make love with him, but I'm so tired.

"I'll wake you up," he promises, and I slide into darkness, letting my dreams take me.

He wakes me up when he goes, dropping kisses on my face – one, two, three – and I try to pull him back into bed, but he just whispers, "I can't, Ray," so I stop pulling on him. He hesitates a minute, and I'm looking at him through half-open eyes, and then he touches my cheek and whispers, "I love you, Ray."

And then he's gone.

I curl around his pillow and sleep for a hundred more years.

When I finally wake, I'm more human and I get up and stagger to the bathroom. Dief follows and I talk to him. "Everything going okay with Fraser, Dief?" Dief groans and after I get done taking a leak, I wash my hands and pet Dief. "Thanks for being a good buddy to him, okay?"

Dief smiles at me and I go find some clothes since I'm a little cold.

I dress, make a cup of coffee and look around Fraser's place.

Everything's in it's place, no surprise, but what surprises me is that on the wall where his pictures hang, there is one picture of him and Vecchio and ten or twelve of me and him, and three of me by myself. There's also some pictures of Diefenbaker, and his picture of him and his family as a little boy, and a picture of Maggie, his sister.

But only that one of Vecchio, the real Ray.

I think about what it means. Fraser, I mean, he's the better part of me but I never really thought about what I was to him.

"He loves you."

I turn around so fast, I almost fall flat on my face. "Wha – who in the hell are you?"

"Robert Fraser, RCMP. Well, the late Robert Fraser, I suppose is more accurate, but still –"

My mouth falls open, I can't help it. "You – you're Fraser's dad!"

He nods. "Might need to take a seat, Yank. You look a bit pale."

I sit on the floor and look up at him. "What do you want?" He sits down across from me, and I stare at him. Dief sits next to me, and I put my hand in his fur, thankful for something to hold on to.

"Just wanted to stop in, have a talk with you," he says.

My eyes narrow. "Why?"

"Do you love him?"

I nod, keeping my eyes on his and he smiles then. "Good. Call me Dad. Tell Ben that Frenchy Malone is trapping again over by Beaverhead Creek and that Thomas Schaffer will be passing by next week in case he needs vows read so that you can stay here." With a laugh, he disappears.

"Well, fuck." I put my head down and take deep breaths. What the fuck is wrong with me? Am I delusional? I'm seeing dead people?

"Ray?" Fraser's hands are on my back and my arm. "Are you all right?" I didn't even hear him come in.

I mumble, "Peachy, Fraser, peachy. Supposed to tell you that Frenchy Malone is trapping again over by Beaverhead Creek and that Thomas Schaffer is gonna be passing by next week in case you need vows so that I can stay here."

Fraser sits on the floor, hard. "What?"

"Your dad told me."

"My –"

"He says I should call him Dad." I look at him and I know my eyes are wild. "I told him I loved you." Fraser smiles then, and it's – it's like the sun shining off the snow, it's so bright and beautiful. I climb right into his lap and straddle him, hugging him tight.

We're just sitting there, all wrapped up together, and he says quietly, "Will you stay?"

I know he doesn't mean just for supper. He means for forever. It's all I've ever wanted. He means for us to get married, that's what his dad was talking about, about vows. But see, I've already made vows to Ben, in my heart. But hey, legal ones, so I can stay, those are good too. "Yeah, Fraser. I'll stay."

"Thank you." He presses kisses across my throat and I turn my face, finding his lips and we kiss, putting everything into those kisses, and then he says softly, "Up, Ray. Time for supper, and then –"

"Then we're going to bed," I say firmly, looking at him. When he doesn't say anything, my stomach feels sort of sick, and I think maybe – maybe he doesn't want me that way, doesn't want to be –

"Yes," he finally says, his voice husky, his hands cupping my face, and his eyes showing me that he's sort of shy and that he doesn't always have the words, but that he loves me, and that quick everything is good again, and I get off his lap, and help him up.


His mouth is on my stomach, and my hands are in his hair, and someone is moaning – I think it's me. All I know is that I've never felt anything like this in my life. Fraser – Ben – is absolutely beautiful, he's got this big gorgeous body, and it feels so right when he's laying on top of me, feels like heaven must feel.

He smiles up at me and runs his fingertips up my ribs and I laugh – he knows I'm ticklish.

Then, all of a sudden, he bites my hipbone, a little mock-bite, and grins up at me as he reaches for the Vaseline. He kisses the tip of my cock real gentle like and reaches under me, sliding a slick finger inside me as he sucks on the head of my cock.

"OH God!" I try to go up, and down, at the same time, so he slides another slick finger into my ass and takes more of my cock in his mouth. No one's ever done this before, but God! It feels so damn good, and I want more.

"Love you, come on Fraser, Ben, come on, do it, more, want it, want you," I babble, and he twists his fingers inside me before sliding them out and rising to his knees beside me, looking shy.

"You want to fuck me?" I pant, and he shakes his head no. I stare up at him, my heart in my throat, worried he's changed his mind.

"I want –" he clears his throat and continues, "I want to make love with you." He looks like he thinks I'll make fun of him, but my heart just pounds harder with the love that I feel for him, and I think that I'm the luckiest person in the world to have this gentle man loving me.

"Yes, God, please." I pull my legs up, letting him see how I want this, how I want him. His eyes go hot, and I seriously can't think of anything else but Ben inside me, and then when he moves to where he can push inside me, he touches my cheek, and ducks his head, watching as he slides inside me.

When we're fully connected, when we're one, he looks up, and his eyes are shiny, and he says in a soft voice, "I love you, Ray. You are my heart and my soul."

I can't say anything. I can't, or I'll lose it, so I try to show him everything I feel by touching him and with my eyes, and he must get it because he smiles and leans over and kisses the corner of my mouth before he moves inside me, sending sparks up my spine with every stroke of his cock.

He's breathing hard and stroking hard and deep inside me, and we're flying, flying together, and I think about how many people don't really understand how gentle and good Ben is, how he's a man, not some superhero, and how he has needs and wants, and how I'm gonna give him those things he needs and wants for the rest of our lives together.

I dig my fingers into his arms as I come, and he groans and comes too, collapsing on top of me, dropping kisses all over my face. "Thank you, Ray, thank you," he whispers, and I run my fingers through his hair and kiss him.

"I love you, Ben."

"I love you," he chokes out, squeezing me tight. "I love you, Ray."

Big, gentle man, good lover, good man, gonna be a good husband. Holds me together, takes care of me – always has. I couldn't make it without him. Thing is, I'm beginning to realise that it works both ways – that he needs me too, that he can't make it without me.

We're each the better part of each other, I think.

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