For wihluta by moosesal

Ray woke to the sound of knocking on his apartment door. He groaned and rolled over, hoping whoever it was would just go away. But the knocking continued. Three soft taps then a moment of silence. Then three more soft taps. Again and again. He thought maybe Fraser would wake, but that was not likely. They'd spent the prior evening at the department holiday party and Ray might have spiked Fraser's eggnog. He smiled at the memory of Fraser stripping out of his uniform as soon as they got home and lying back on the bed saying, "Fuck me, Ray. I want to feel it every time I move tomorrow. When I sit down at your mother's table for Christmas dinner, I want to feel you." A drunk Fraser was a fun Fraser. And they'd definitely had a lot of fun last night. Ray wasn't sure how much Fraser would even remember this morning, but he had no doubt Fraser would be feeling it.

He was pulled from his thoughts by three more raps at the front door. Ray groaned and pushed back the covers. Fraser stirred and said, "What."

"Go back to sleep. It's probably just my mom. She still thinks I'm a little boy. Need my presents first thing."

Fraser startled awake. He winced when he sat up and Ray grinned. He was definitely feeling it. "Ray, I should --"

"Should what?" Ray slipped on a pair of sweats and grabbed a T-shirt off the floor.

"You're mother, Ray. She --"

"She knows we sleep together, Ben. We've lived together three years in a one-bedroom apartment. You come to Sunday dinner. I think she's figured it out by now."

"But --"

"Relax."

Another three taps. So polite, that if he didn't know better Ray would think it was Fraser at his door. Three years ago it would have been.

He released the chain and turned the knob. "Ma, what --"

"Are you my father?"

Ray looked down to see a boy who looked to be eight or nine years old staring at him with the brightest blue eyes. "Uh... I think you've got the wrong place, kid."

"I'm looking for Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mountain Police." At Ray's lack of response the kid continued on. "He first came to Chicago on the trail of his father's killer about nine years ago."

"Fra-seeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

He didn't actually need to yell though, because Fraser was already coming down the hall and at the sight of the boy he whispered, "Oh dear."

*****

They were in the bedroom. They'd left the boy in the middle of Ray's couch, the TV set to a marathon of A Christmas Story. Dief sat on the end of the sofa watching him.

"You want to tell me why a boy who looks like a miniature version of you is sitting on my couch right now?" Ray whisper-shouted.

"Ray... I..."

"How ... why ... how?"

"Well, Ray, when a man and a woman --"

"Do not make me hit you, Fraser. Do not --"

"Ray. You know about Victoria. She was in the files Vecchio left --"

"Victoria." The wind went out of him at the name. He remembered the file. He remembered talking to Vecchio about it a few years later when he and Fraser had finally gotten past all their awkwardness. Vecchio had caught them making out in the supply closet and warned Ray that if he broke Fraser's heart, Vecchio would rip Ray's heart out of his chest and feed it to him. Then he'd told him about Victoria, about Jolly, about the lies and the shooting, about Fraser's depression after.

"Yes, Ray. Victoria."

*****

The boy -- Jeremy Metcalf -- had come with a letter for Fraser. Ray had resisted reading over Fraser's shoulder for all of three seconds.

My dearest Ben,

"Dearest? Dearest? Are you fucking kidding me?!?"

"Language, Ray. There's an impressionable young man just down the hall."

Ray glared then looked at the letter again.

My dearest Ben,

I hope that when you find yourself reading this letter, it means Jeremy has made his way safely to you. I'm sorry to spring him on you now, but when I left Chicago I didn't know I was pregnant. And when I discovered that I was, I thought the child was Jolly's. When he was born, I knew right away that he was yours. One look into those eyes and there was no denying it. Yet there was no way to contact you, no way I could come back and face you, risk going to jail and leaving my baby alone.

But now I'm dying

"Dying? Are you fucking kidding me. What a sob story. Good grief."

"Ray." He looked at Fraser and there was a stillness and sadness he hadn't seen in some time.

"Sorry."

But now I'm dying and I don't want Jeremy to end up with strangers. I want him to be taken care of and I trust that you will do what's right for him. You're a good man. You've always been a good man. I'm sorry I couldn't be the woman you thought I was, the woman you wanted me to be. Take care of our son. Raise him to be a good man. Raise him to be a better person than I ever could have been.

With deepest regrets,
Victoria

Ray started to speak again, but couldn't. Fraser dropped the letter on the bed and moved to the window. He stared out at the streets, the cars, the sidewalks. It had snowed overnight. A thin layer, but it was snow. A white Christmas. It wasn't the great white north Fraser loved and missed, but it was something. Ray moved to stand behind him, rested his hands on Fraser's hips, and pressed a soft kiss to his neck. "Ben."

Fraser leaned into his touch, the tension slowly leaving his body. "I have a son, Ray."

"Yeah."

"I... I loved her. Despite everything, I loved her. I shouldn't have, but --"

"Shh. We'll figure it out."

"She's dying, Ray."

*****

Dinner could not be canceled. There was no way for Ray to call his mother and say, "Fraser just found out he's a dad and we're blowing you off for dinner." So they went. And they took Jeremy with them. Ray steeled himself as best he could and shot Fraser his most reassuring smile. "It'll be fine." Fraser nodded and smiled back, but there was a tightness around his eyes that spoke of uncertainty. Jeremy was silent, Dief glued to his side.

Ray's mother was ecstatic. She'd pretty much given up hope of having grandchildren after the divorce and then when things changed with Fraser, she'd written off the notion completely. Ray had regretted not being able to give her that. He'd wanted kids with Stella, he'd wanted Stella. Things just hadn't gone as he'd hoped. But he wouldn't go back now. He had Fraser and, with or without kids, that was all he needed. The idea of Jeremy hadn't really sunk in for him yet, but he was happy to see his mom welcome the kid with open arms.

Ray's father was less enthusiastic, but was dealing in his own way. He liked Fraser, had told Ray more than once that he liked him and that he thought Fraser was good for him. But Ray knew it was hard for him, that he didn't know how to fully accept Ray being in a gay relationship. And now with a kid added to the mix, it was just one more thing to get used to. Ray hadn't really gotten used to the idea yet, himself, but he hoped his dad would warm to the idea of being a grandfather. Ray's family was the only family Fraser had.

After dinner the family exchanged gifts, and Mrs. Kowalski expressed her regret at having nothing for Jeremy. He sat curled up on the floor with Dief, his fingers buried in the wolf's fur, and politely said, "It's okay, ma'am."

But everyone could see that it wasn't. There was a sadness there. Ray knew the boy must be missing his mother. He leaned into the warmth of Fraser's body next to his own and then startled when Fraser rose from the sofa and walked out the door. He got up to follow him, sending a wordless plea to his mother to watch Jeremy. But as he was reaching for the door knob of his parents' trailer, the door swung open again and Fraser stepped inside with a thick tree branch in hand. He pulled his knife from his belt and sat on the floor next to Jeremy.

He grabbed a piece of discarded wrapping paper from the floor and began whittling as he spoke to Jeremy in soft words no one else could quite make out. The boy nodded his head and leaned in to watch Fraser work. In minutes Ray recognized the beginnings of a wolf taking shape.

*****

Jeremy was asleep on Ray's couch with Dief curled up on the floor below keeping watch. "He's a good kid, Ben."

Fraser nodded. "Yes. She ... Ray, I'm sorry."

"Hey. No. Nothing to be sorry for."

"I --"

"No. No apologies. You loved her."

"I love you."

"I love you too. But before you ... there was Stella. We both have pasts, Ben. It's okay."

"I never imagined..."

There was nothing to say to that.

"I need to find somewhere else to live."

"What?"

"We can't stay here, Ray. He needs a room. Space of his own. I --"

"We will find a new place, Ben. Together."

"You --"

"What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine. Right?"

"This is different, Ray."

"No. It's not."

*****

One year later

Three soft taps on the bedroom door. Ray groaned and rolled over, covering his head and ignoring the noise at the door. Ray had spiked Fraser's eggnog the night before and Fraser was still dead to the world.

Another three taps and then, "Dad? Ray?"

Next came three scratches of Dief's nails. This time it was Fraser's turn to groan, roll over, and cover his head.

"No more egg nog, Ray."

Tap, tap, tap. "Dad? Ray?"

"Come on in, Squirt." The door opened and Dief bounded in and up on the bed, one paw landing in just the right place to remind Ray how very drunk Fraser had been the night before and how delightfully Ray had taken advantage of his drunkeness.

Jeremy jumped onto the bed seconds behind Dief, crawling up to lay between his father and Ray.

"Are you two going to sleep all day? Grandma and Grandpa are going to be here any minute."

Right on cue three loud raps to the front door and then Ray's mom was letting herself in downstairs and calling out, "Merry Christmas, boys. I've got presents and food and --"

"Coffee, Ray," his father bellowed up the staircase. "We brought coffee."

"One of these days I'm going to get to sleep in on Christmas," Ray vowed. But as he looked at his family around him and listened to his parents moving around in the kitchen he decided he didn't really care how long it was before that day arrived. "Let's go open presents."

Jeremy and Dief raced each other down to the living room, Fraser and Ray lingering long enough to exchange a "Merry Christmas" and a kiss before following their son down the stairs.

"I can't believe he's been here a year," Ray said. "It feels like yesterday."

"Except during homework time, when it feels like a decade." Fraser faked frustration, but his eyes were smiling.

They rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs and saw Ray's mother and Jeremy on the floor by the tree, waiting as patiently as possible to start opening presents. Ray's father stood by the fireplace, holding a match to light the fire he'd already set up. But instead of bending to the fire, he was staring at the family photo on the mantle and holding the wolf Fraser had carved the year before. Ray hesitated to interrupt him, finally saying a soft, "Hey dad" as he moved next to him.

"Merry Christmas, son." Without looking away from the photo of Fraser, Ray, Jeremy, and Dief he said, "You have a wonderful family."

Ray looked over at his mother sorting gifts, while Dief, Fraser, and Jeremy all set their senses to sniffing the packages. Like father, like son. He looked back at his dad and said, "Yeah, we do."