Copyright November 15-17, 2000 by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Rating: soft R

Pairing: Benton Fraser/Raymond Kowalski, Benton Fraser/Stella Kowalski

Disclaimer: "due South," with its related characters and themes, belongs to Paul Haggis, Alliance, etc., not to me.  I make no money from this venture.

Dedication: This slashfic is for Ewan McGregor and Constable Fraser.

Wherein you'll find something far too short, not nearly enough of the right kind of sex, and, oh, please, not het...

Notice: Can I tell you how much I love this show?  Can I tell you how much I love Fraser and Ray?

        Who was this woman that she could do these things to Ray?  She had Ray heart and soul, body and soul, without even wanting him.  How could she not want him?  How could she have him and then give him up - - not only give him up but push him away, not just let go but snap and judge and hurt.  And still he wanted to be with her.

        Ray wanted to be with her.  And sometimes, it would seem, Ray was allowed to be with her, was invited to be with her.  But only momentarily, temporarily.

        Who was Stella Kowalski?  Who was she to hurt Ray thus?  His apology, there in the car, had been but one of many.  That much was patently obvious.  Ray was used to apologizing.  Ray was used to feeling bad.

        Who was this woman?  How had she come to rule Ray's heart?

        The Stella.  As though she were more than human.  Perhaps inhuman?  Such was implied but, Fraser suspected, would not be acknowledged.  Not by Ray.

        She had power over Ray.  Great influence.

        Everyone had an obsession.  Ray's was Stella.

        And Fraser's was Ray.

        "Ray," she said with an even smile.  Just a tiny bit forced.  Probably he was the only one who'd notice.  Well, maybe not the only one.  After all, there was-  "Is Fraser around?"

        His eyes flickered.  "Welsh is talking to him.  Or, he's talking to Welsh."

        She smiled again, this time a real smile, a flash of amusement.  "That does sound more likely."

        So this was what they had in common.  All of their years together, and this was what they shared.  Fraser.  His partner.  Her partner.

        Ray wanted to sit down, suddenly.  Those very words in his head, "Her partner," made him ill, made him cringe, made him hurt.  There was this feeling of doom, a deep darkness, with an inevitability to it.  Things had gone wrong and he couldn't do anything about it, couldn't stop it, just had to live with it.  Live through it.

        He'd never have guessed that this would happen, this thing, this...this...  Fraser and Stella hadn't gotten along at all those first days, those days with Orsini.  Fraser had made a bad impression, which was pretty damned unusual for Fraser.  Then one day Fraser started, what was the word, courting Stella.  Courting his ex-wife.  Asking his permission to date The Stella.  What was he supposed to say?  He'd never been able to say no to Stella.  And nobody ever said no to Fraser.

        Okay, nobody except Ray ever said no to Fraser.  He could say no.  He did on other occasions, about other things.  But this one, when Fraser asked his permission to date his ex-wife, he found himself saying yes.

        "Yeah, okay, sure, Fraser.  Do whatever you want."

        "I don't mean to upset you, Ray.  If it would-"

        "You're an adult, Fraser.  We're not married anymore.  She can see whoever she wants."

        "If it would make you uncomfortable, Ray, then-"

        "You want to do it, do it.  You don't want to, don't.  There's no guarantee she'll say yes anyway, even if you do ask."

        Yeah, sure.  Right.  Idiot.  Fraser could walk up to anybody and get a date.  And Fraser did go and ask Stella out, and Stella did say yes, and now they were dating, they were a couple.  Ray knew that they were having sex together.  He knew by now how she looked afterward, and she'd started looking like that the day before yesterday.

        "Stella."  Fraser's voice, Fraser coming up to them.

        "Fraser."  She had a hand on Fraser's arm, smiling into Fraser's eyes.

        "You don't call him Ben?" Ray asked.

        Stella looked surprised.  Irritated with him.  "No, I don't.  It never occurred to me."  She looked to Fraser.  "Unless you..."

        Fraser smiled.  "Fraser's fine."

        "Well.  Are you ready to go?"

        "Yes.  Ray-"

        "See you tomorrow, Fraser," he said, hearing the shimmering edge of impatience in his tone.

        "Good night, Ray," Fraser said, hand on Stella's back.

        "Bye, Stella," Ray said.

        "Good night, Ray."

        Had she done these things with Ray?  Had she looked at Ray like this?  Laughed with Ray like this?  Kissed Ray like this?  Did Ray touch her here, kiss her there?  Had Ray's fingers stroked her skin this way?

        And Ray was being strong about it.  Trying to keep it inside, trying not to let it affect their working relationship, their friendship.  But Fraser could see how wounded Ray was.  How confused.

        Sometimes he could get Stella to talk about Ray.  She was nothing but a fount of information, intimate knowledge, long years of experience.  She knew Ray in ways that he never could.

        There were some questions that he couldn't ask her.  He couldn't ask her how Ray kissed, how Ray looked asleep, how Ray's naked hip bone fit under her fingers.  How did Ray's mouth taste?  How did Ray's sweat taste?  How did Ray's naked skin taste?

        So he experienced her, as Ray once and for a long time had experienced her, and he felt the connection.  In making love to Stella, he connected with Ray.

        "I'm sorry, Stella."

        She turned red, then white.  "Don't you dare, you bastard!  You get out of here right now!  I don't ever want to see you again."

        "She did."

        "I'm sorry, Fraser."

        "I'm sorry, too, Ray."

        "She says you're insane."

        "She wouldn't be the first."

        Flicker of a smile.  "Guess not."  Silence.  "She said I should stay away from you."

        "Will you?"

        "No."