"Is something bothering you, Ray?" They were sitting on the front porch of the Vecchio house on a summer afternoon, watching as the nieces and nephews attempted to organize a soccer game on the lawn.

            "Naw, Benny, everything's fine. Why do you ask?"

            "Well, you've been unusually quiet all afternoon. In fact, I've noticed lately that you get this way after every visit with your family. So naturally, I concluded that there was something on your mind."

            "Aw, it's nothing."

            "All right."

            Ray sighed. Benny's eternal patience always got the best of him, so he might just as well give in now. "Look, Benny. Weve been together what, six years now? And it's been great, you know, I wouldnt give it up for anything. Its just, coming here, seeing Maria's kids, Frannie's kids... I always kinda wanted kids of my own, that's all."

            "I know that, Ray. I myself always expected that I would someday settle down, raise a family. Its a perfectly natural desire."

            "So how do you deal with it?"

            "I have you, Ray." He smiled at his partner, and when Ray grinned back, he continued. "And we see your sisters' children enough to pretend they're ours."

            Ray chuckled. "Yeah. A little dose of chaos, anytime we need it. And when we get tired of whiny voices and runny noses, we can go home. All the pleasures of parenthood with none of the work."

            The conversation moved on to other things, and the subject appeared to be closed. It was nearly a month later when it came up again, by a very roundabout route. They were sitting at the breakfast table when Fraser spoke.

            "You know, Ray, I've been reading a very interesting report. It seems that a team of genetics researchers at Emory Medical Center decided to address the difficulty that some geneticists have in breeding for specific traits. You see, it can take hundreds, even thousands of generations for a certain mutation to appear at random in a population. With recent developments in DNA work, that number has been greatly reduced, but it is still quite difficult to produce the desired change, and even then there is a problem in building a true-breeding population. If the organism in question reproduces quickly and has a large number of offspring, as is the case with the commonly-used fruit fly, then there is a reasonable chance that the scientist will soon have a good stock of fertile subjects of both sexes, all carrying the trait. However, if the investigator finds it necessary for some reason to use a different animal, for instance a cow or a sheep, that has a lengthy gestational period and few offspring--"

            "This is all fascinating, Benny, but you want to get to the point?"

            "I am, Ray, if you will just be patient. Anyway, as I was saying, if the scientist chooses an animal which bears only a few offspring over a great deal of time, he may find himself with a very limited number of potential carriers from which to choose. For instance, all of the affected members of the F1 generation, F1 being the name the Austrian monk Gregor Mendel--"

            "The peas. Yeah, I know, I took biology in high school." Though he acted grumpy, Ray actually enjoyed listening to the bizarre stories that illustrated how his favorite Mountie's convoluted mind worked. However, if he didn't speed things up a little, they were likely to be here all day.

            "Yes. Well, all of the affected members of the F1 generation may quite possibly be of the same gender, necessitating the production of a second or third filial generation before the scientist can see the results of his or her work. Now, this research team I was speaking of realized that if it were somehow possible to somehow breed animals of the same gender, it could save years of waiting, and the work would progress--"

            "Wait a minute. You mean they wanted to breed two bulls?"

            "Well, I was using cattle as a hypothetical example, Ray, but in essence, yes."

            "And did they?" He was leaning forward in his chair now, as the implications of what Ben was saying hit him. If this were possible...

            "Yes."

            "Whoa." There was silence for a full minute as Ray absorbed this information. "So how come this hasn't been in all the papers?"

            "Well, it has gotten a few mentions. But with cloning now common practice it does not seem so remarkable, and it has been rather overshadowed by the recent political scandals and the Prince of Wales' engagement."

            Ray grimaced. "Yeah, the press has been kinda single-minded lately. Do they think it will work on humans?"

            "Will what work on humans? The media?"

            "No, they're inhuman all right but that's not what I meant. Do the scientists think this single-sex breeding thing will work on humans?"

            "They don't know, Ray. But I must admit, that's why I brought it up. I thought that if it were possible, then--"

            "You and I could--"

            "Precisely."

            "Wow. I mean, that would be--"

            "Indeed."

            "So what do we do?"

            "I have the address of the research team here. We could write and volunteer as test subjects."

            "You really think they'd take us?"

            "It's worth a try."

~~~June 21, 2003~~~

            Eleven months and a few dozen letters later, they found themselves in Atlanta, sitting in a small, cluttered office, being interviewed by a woman in a white lab coat and thick glasses. "The first successes were made years ago," she was saying. "At first, nobody would take us seriously. It's taken us almost twelve years to gain recognition from the scientific community, when we bred the two male Labrador retrievers. Now we've finally been given permission to try it on humans. I was intrigued by your letters, Inspector. The two of you seem to be exactly the kind of people were looking for--healthy, reliable, and in a committed relationship, apparently with the full support of a large family. Are you really sure you want to go through with this?"

            "Yes, ma'am," Ray answered. "We've given it careful thought, and we want to have this baby."

            "And you, sir, are willing to stay at home and raise the child?"

            "Yeah," Ray answered, "I've been working as a police consultant for the past six and a half years, and I can do that from home. They're setting me up with some fancy computer so I can send in my opinions in between changing diapers."

            "All right." She stood up. "Well, let me give you a tour of the lab and I'll explain the procedure in more detail."

            She led them into a large room filled with jars and beakers and complicated-looking machines. A young man in a rubber apron was seated at one of the counters, peering into a microscope. "Bruce is one of our graduate assistants," their guide explained. "Hey, Bruce, why don't you tell our guests what you're doing?"

The student spun his stool to face them. "Right now I'm removing the genetic material from a donated ovum," he said, his words slightly muffled by the sanitary mask he wore. "I insert a very fine needle into the egg and suck out the nucleus. Then I will inject the ovum with the nuclear material of a sperm and place it in an incubator. If the ovum survives all that mucking about, it will then be fertilized in the ordinary way with sperm from the second donor. I monitor the fertilized ova for 72 hours, and the ones that seem to be dividing normally I pass along to the doc there, who takes care of the rest."

            Dr. Young smiled. "After that its just like the movie Junior. The zygote is implanted into the pseudomother's abdominal cavity, and if all goes well, the baby is delivered surgically in nine months. Youre sure about this, Inspector?"

            "I'm sure."

            Ray grinned. "He's always wanted to be a woman."

            "Now, Ray, you know that's not true. I dressed, as you say, in drag on only one occasion, and it was almost nine years ago. And it was to help YOU in YOUR case, I might add."

            "Whatever you say, Benny. Whatever you say."

            "All right, boys," the doctor interrupted. "Let's get started."

~~~August 12, 2003~~~

            Ray watched the flickering blue images on the monitor intently, trying to make sense of the obscure shapes. He knew, of course, that some of them were organs and others were bones and muscles of Fraser's abdomen, but for all he could tell, it could have been modern art or one of the earlier transmissions from the Hubble Space Telescope. Nevertheless, he nodded and hmmm'd in what he hoped was an intelligent manner when Dr. Young pointed to a particular smudge (Part of the nude or his staircase? An extreme closeup of Saturn?) and said, "Here's where we'll inject the zygote." Fraser, lightly sedated, watched the proceedings with interest and gave Ray a slight smile. "Now, Mr. Vecchio, if you'll just move over there out of the way, we'll get started and you can watch the whole thing on the monitor." He obeyed, reluctant to leave Ben's side but knowing that if he interfered at all, they would send him out of the room completely.

            Time seemed to stand still as the sea of white coats surrounded Fraser's operating table, obscuring him from Ray's view. His eyes glued themselves to the screen, unblinking from the moment the thin bright line of the needle first appeared in the field of view until it disappeared and the doctor announced that the impregnation was complete. He heard a sigh, unnaturally loud in his little corner, and realized that it was his own and that he had been holding his breath all along. He took a few more shaky breaths as the screen went blank and was rolled away, lost in the general bustle of finishing up. Two minutes later, Fraser was being helped into a wheelchair, ready to go back to the little room on the fifth floor where hed spent the previous night and would spend the following week, until they were reasonably sure the operation had been a success and the zygote would be neither rejected nor absorbed by Fraser's system. From then on, it would be nine months of medication three times a day, checkups three times a week for the first month and every two weeks thereafter, and then... Realizing the others were leaving him behind, Ray stirred himself and followed.

~~~~August 19, 2003~~~

            Seven days later, at ten o'clock on a hot August morning, Benton Fraser was pronounced in perfect health and released from the hospital. Ray and a small crowd of interested medical staff loaded him into the waiting Riv with a large box containing enough hormonal supplements to last a month, eight pages of detailed instructions, and a bunch of yellow chrysanthemums. They had both laughed when Ray had brought him the flowers, recalling the story of the ill-fated bouquet he'd never gotten in the hospital nine years before. Now he smiled as he looked at them sitting on the dashboard beside his Stetson, touched as much by the memory as by the gift.

They were quiet during most of the ten-minute ride to the apartment they'd rented, suddenly shy with one another. It had been slightly awkward before, in the hospital, but there had been distractions then in the form of nurses and orderlies wandering in and out every few minutes. Now, alone with one another at last, the tension was palpable. Ray glanced furtively at Ben's hand where it lay protectively over his flat stomach, his thumb rubbing absently back and forth. "Benny?"

            "Hmmm?"

            "I, uh... nuthin."

            They pulled up in front of the apartment and quickly carried everything inside. At Ray's insistence, remembering the seven pregnancies hed lived through with his sisters, they had rented one on the ground floor. Once inside and settled, the silence descended once again. This time it was Ben who broke it.

            "Ray?"

            "Yeah?"

            "You're not sorry we did this, are you?"

            "Are you?"

            "Of course not. I was merely concerned that you might be."

            "Well, I'm not. Unless, unless you are, of course."

            "No, Ray. I was merely concerned that you might be--"

            "Benny." Ray interrupted him. "Youre babbling."

            "Oh." He fell silent, looking first at Ray, then at the floor. After a moment Ray relented, and with a hand on his shoulder led him to sit on the edge of the bed and moved to sit beside him.

            "Look, Benny. Of all the weird things I've done since I met you, this is probably the weirdest." He was rewarded by a brief flash of Ben's smile. "But we talked this through before we did it. We both thought it was a good idea then, and I havent changed my mind. I'm not gonna change my mind, Benny. No matter what."

Ben didnt say anything, but the love and thankful relief in his eyes said more than any words. Ray drew him back onto the bed and held him close. "I love you."

~~~~September 11, 2003~~~

            Ray was pacing. "There is nothing to do! We've been to every movie showing at every theatre in the greater Atlanta area, including that one about the dog which, by the way, I cant believe you made me go to; there isn't a single case on that computer they fixed me up with, as if there isn't enough crime in the world that they could spare me something to keep me busy; we get seventy channels and not one of them is showing a single thing worth watching! I am going nuts!"

            Ben laid down the book he'd been reading and regarded his partner mildly. "Have you tried reading, Ray? There is an excellent library only five blocks from here. I checked out several books while you were out this afternoon. They're on the table."

            Ray looked skeptical, but crossed over to the table and picked up a thick volume and read the title on its spine. Incredulous, he picked up the next, and the next. "The Outline of History. Chekhov: The Major Plays. Medieval And Early Modern Science. Manual of the Vascular Flora of the Carolinas. I dont know what amazes me more, that you read this stuff or that somebody wrote it in the first place."

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

            "Benny." Ray approached him slowly and sat beside him on the bed. His face was deadpan but there was a telltale twinkle in his eyes. "When this baby is born..." he paused for emphasis, "and it's time for reading bedtime stories..." he held Ben's gaze steadily, "I get to pick the book."

            "But Ray, I hardly think--" he found he couldn't finish as Rays mouth descended to cover his own. He returned the kiss with enthusiasm for a few seconds before pulling away. "We'll take turns."

            Ray rolled his eyes and grinned. "Great. I can't wait to see what..." his words trailed away as he caught sight of Ben's face. "You OK?" he asked in quick concern.

            Ben took a deep breath and summoned a smile. "Of course, Ray. I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

            "Youre looking a little green around the gills."

            "Oh, don't be silly, Ray. Really, I'm fine." A faint dew of perspiration was breaking out on his forehead and he swallowed hard. "I just-- oh dear." He bolted for the bathroom.

            Ray followed at a more sedate pace and tapped lightly on the door. "Benny? You OK in there?" The only answer he received was a prolonged retch, and he grimaced in a mixture of disgust and sympathy. Suddenly realizing what must be wrong, he relaxed and chuckled. He tapped on the door again. "Benny?"

            This time he was rewarded by a muffled "Yes, Ray?"

            "Benny, I'm going to run down to the store and get something that'll help your stomach. I'll be back in about ten or fifteen minutes. You gonna be OK here by yourself?"

            "I'll be fi--" the word was abruptly broken off as another wave of nausea hit.

            "OK. Ill be back as soon as I can."

            Ray made it to the store and back in just under eleven minutes. When he let himself into the apartment, Ben was sitting on the edge of the bed with an empty garbage can between his feet. His normally light complexion was even paler than usual, nearly white, and he had removed his shirt. Ray assumed, correctly, that it had been accidentally soiled. He looked up at the sound of the door opening.

            "Hey, Benny. You feeling any better?"

            Ben managed a wan smile. "Not really, no."

            Ray hurried to the kitchen to set down the brown grocery bag he carried and unload its contents. When he returned, he was carrying a plate and a glass of something pale gold in color and fizzy. He set the plate on the nightstand and handed the glass to Ben. "Here. This'll help."

            "What is it?"

            "Ginger ale." He gestured towards the plate. "And soda crackers. Maria n' Frannie swear by 'em." Ben took a tiny, experimental sip of the drink. "Hey, you oughta like it, it's Canadian."

            Ben's smile this time was small but genuine, and the color was returning to his face. "Thanks, Ray." He took a slightly larger sip.

            Ray smiled and gave a small shrug. "Sure." He fetched a towel from the bathroom and returned to spread it over Bens pillow. "Here, lie down." He helped Ben to lie back and get his legs under the covers, and moved the garbage can up by Bens head. Once Ben was comfortable, Ray sat down in the chair beside the bed and they regarded one another silently. After a moment Ray ducked his head suddenly in an unsuccessful effort to hide a broad, amused grin.

            "What?" Ben sounded affronted.

            "I'm sorry, Benny. Its just... you're the only guy I know whose entire medical history, aside from bullet wounds, stabbings, and frozen seal traumas--"

            "Otter."

            "I thought you said it was a seal."

            "It was a sea otter. I was struck by it, I should think I would know what it was."

            "Then what was with the seal? I know you said something about getting clubbed with a baby seal."

            "Ohhh... no, Ray, it was poachers who were trapping baby seals. They discovered my identity as an officer of the law and clubbed me repeatedly, but the clubs were made of wood. It was completely unrelated to the incident in which I was struck by the otter."

            "Oh. Well, anyway, you're the only guy I know whose life illnesses are limited to pinkeye and morning sickness."

            "Now, that's just not amusing, Ray."

~~~September 12, 2003~~~

            In the morning, Ben woke early as usual and promptly vomited into the garbage can. The sound woke Ray, and the smell hit him about five seconds later. He was out of bed and had the windows open with a speed rarely associated with getting up in the morning. He stood close to the screen and breathed deeply of the fresh air before speaking. "Phew. Benny, we gotta get some air freshener."

            "I'm sorey, Ray." Ben stood shakily, gathered up his can and headed for the bathroom. "I can't help--"

            "Its OK, Benny. I know you can't help it. But I can't either, and if we don't do something about it I'm gonna be fighting you for that can." He found his clothes and dressed quickly, breathing as shallowly as possible. "I'm going down to the store and see if I can get something to deal with the smell, be back before you know it. Should I get some more ginger ale?"

            "It seemed to help, Ray." came the muffled response.

            "Theres still five cans of it in the kitchen, I got a six-pack last night. And you should try the crackers, theyre supposed to help too. Youre gonna be OK til I get back, right?"

            "Fine, Ray."

            "Ok then. Back in a few."

            Ben was almost relieved to hear the front door close and know that he was alone with his nausea. He and Ray had been as good as married for over seven years and best friends for more than nine, but his upbringing was still determinedly with him and he felt a little uncomfortable having anyone see him lose control over his own body. The fact that it was morning sickness helped a little; it allowed him to think that, in a way, he was doing this for Ray and for the baby. The baby his hand moved unconsciously to his stomach and he fingered the place where the zygote had been injected a little less than a month before. He did some quick figuring. By now, the zygote-- no, at this stage it would be called an embryo-- would be about half a centimetre long, have a beating heart... He stood and washed his face in the sink and rinsed his mouth, his nausea gone. He quickly replaced the plastic liner in his vomit can, tied a knot in the top of the used bag and headed for the outdoor can with it, depositing the fresh one by his bedside en route. Ray was already inside when he returned, lost somewhere in a haze of aerosol spray.

            "Ray!" The excitement in his voice matched his flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Rays indistinct form moved toward the sound, emerging from the cloud. Like a celestial apparition, Ben thought happily.

            "Hey, Benny. You feeling better? I got pine scent, thought you might like that, the whole great outdoors thing, they also ha--" The rest of that thought was smothered in an enthusiastic kiss. He pulled back in surprise. "Benny, wha?"

            "Were going to have a baby, Ray!"

            Ray stared blankly at Bens beaming face for about half a second, then felt his own face break into a broad, silly grin. He put his arms around the man who was having his baby and held tight. "Yeah, Benny. We are."

            They spent the next three hours drifting in a happy pine-scented dream, reclining against the pillows on their bed. Bens arm curled protectively around his trim stomach, and Rays arm curled protectively around Benny. Their voices blended in a smooth, joyful murmur.

            "I knew, of course, intellectually, Ray, but I don't think I fully realized until now--"

            "I know, Benny. It's like it didn't seem real until now. Ive just been feeling like I was disconnected from the rest of my life with this sorta vague weirdness hanging over me, but now this, this is like, it's official--"

            "Yes this is the first real, solid sign--" Suddenly Ben turned and looked his partner straight in the eye. "Ray, Im pregnant."

They stared at one another for several seconds. Then, as if on cue, they both dissolved in a fit of the giggles.

~~~~September 17, 2003~~~

            A week later, they werent laughing anymore. Bens morning sickness had developed into a twenty-four-hours-a-day, seven-days-a-week nauseous nightmare. Ray found himself eating alone in the kitchen with the door shut, since Ben could no longer stand the sight or smell of food. The only things he could manage to get down were his soda crackers and ginger ale, and they rarely stayed down very long. They went through four cans of pine-scented air freshener in six days, and the apartment and everything in it smelled like a wild Canadian forest full of very, very sick bears. Ray was in the middle of opening a fifth can when a moan from the bed interrupted him.

            "No please, Ray... no more"

            Ray was immediately at his side, placing a concerned hand on Ben's shoulder and taking care not to block Bens access to his now-everpresent garbage can. "What's the matter, Benny?"

            "The smell, Ray... oh God, the smell" Bens face had a ghastly pallor, and he was covered with a fresh sheen of sweat. He rolled his head weakly and buried his nose in the pillow.

            "You mean the air freshener? It bothers you?"

            Ben nodded, his face still mostly obscured by bedding, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he fought against both nausea and tears.

            Ray stared at the slim cylinder in his hands, at the cartoon drawing of a happy chipmunk waving a pine branch. "I'm sorry, Benny, I had no idea-- I mean, we've been using it all week and you never said anything..." He put the can down abruptly. "They have other scents, you know-- I can get something else, anything you want--"

            "Nooo... no more smells... please, I can't stand the smells... everything smells..." He retched weakly into the garbage can, but there was nothing to bring up.                                  

          Ray turned his face away, unable to stand the sight of his beloved, invincible Mountie, his sensitive Benny, brought to this. And all because of him. "I'm sorry, Benny." He got up and walked to the window, where he stood with his back to the room, his gaze fixed unseeing on the reflections in the glass. "We shouldn'ta done this."

            "No." The soft sound hung in the air, palpable in the early evening twilight of the room.

            "No, Ray. I'm glad."

            Ray turned around. Ben was lying half-raised on one elbow, looking at him. He was still pale, but there was a little of the old familiar determination in the set of his jaw. "This is all temporary, Ray. And if this is what it takes for us to have a child of our own, then... ohhh..." He sank back down onto the pillow, closed his eyes, and swallowed hard as another wave of nausea overtook him. He fought it down. "I can do this. I am a Mountie."

            Ray grinned at that, though the concern did not leave his eyes. "Well, Benny, not that I would know, but I dont think this is covered in Mountie Basic Training." He moved slowly to crouch at Ben's side and took his hand. "You're sure about this? That you really wanna go through with it?"

            His eyes never leaving Ray's face, Ben slowly lifted the hand that was joined to Ray's and turned it so that their fingers interlaced. "I'm sure."

            "Ok." They shared a long, intimate gaze, which was abruptly broken by Bens sudden dive for the garbage can. Ray stood up with a long-suffering sigh. "Its gonna be a long coupla months."

~~~September 27, 2003~~~

            It was difficult to get Ben to the clinic for his next checkup. He had always been sensitive to odors, and the hormones of pregnancy heightened that sense to unbearable levels. They had had to switch the pine-scented spray for a so-called "scent-free" air neutralizer, which Ben could, if just barely, tolerate. Riding in the Riviera, with its faint odors of oil and gasoline, wolf musk, coffee, and various other old-car smells, turned out to be ten minutes of sheer torture. When they finally arrived, it was all Ben could do to walk into the clinic without falling over, even leaning on Ray's arm.

            Dr. Young took one look at Bens haggard face and emaciated frame and gasped in horror. "The last time you were in here you said you'd had a 'slight touch' of morning sickness!" She turned to Ray. "Has he been like this the whole two weeks?"

            Ray's voice sounded as tired as he looked. "It wasn't all that bad at first. It just kept getting worse. I tried to get him to come in once or twice, but he said he'd expected this and didn't want to bother you without an appointment."

            "Well, the next time your partner decides to play stoic, you drag him in here if you have to. The university has a lot invested in this too, you know. So Ben," she continued, returning her level stare to him, "if you really want to be a hero, the best way you can do that is by keeping yourself and that baby as healthy as possible. Believe me, its a lot less trouble to adjust your meds than to start all over with a fresh subject after you've managed to kill yourself."

            The Mountie had been standing unconsciously at attention to receive his chastisement, and now he looked contritely down at his shoes. "Understood, ma'am." He looked up a little too quickly and swayed visibly on his feet. Ray and the doctor both jumped to steady him and help him onto the examination table.

            "All right, Ben, you know the drill. Arm, please." Ben obediently rolled up his sleeve and extended his left arm, and Dr. Young drew a sample of his blood. She bandaged the small wound and handed him an empty plastic bottle with a lid. "Ok, you go to the restroom and fill this at least half full. The results should be ready in about half an hour-- just because youre such a special case." She winked at him, and Ray grinned. Even forty-one, gay, and pregnant, Benny could still charm women. "Then we'll talk about your medication."

            It was actually closer to an hour before the doctor returned. Ben was napping on the table, and Ray glanced up from his copy of the January 1984 issue of Life to greet her. "Y'know, doc, I realize you probably pride yourself on having the largest collection of antique magazines in the Western hemisphere, but over the past month I've worked my way through the entire stack and now you've left me hanging. Now I'll never know if Reagan got reelected."

            "Sorry, Ray. If I put out anything new, theyd revoke my medical license." She looked over at Ben's still form. "Has he been sleeping much lately?"

            "Off and on. He wakes up sick a lot, and he naps during the day a lot. I dont know how it evens out."

            "Hmm. Well, I hate to do this, but..." She moved to the table and patted the broad back. "C'mon, Ben, rise and shine." Ben rose, then quickly sank again as he grabbed for the emesis basin hed been provided with upon arrival. Dr. Young sighed. "Sorry about that." When Ben had finished, she handed him a glass of water and brought a package of soda crackers out of a cabinet, which she opened and set within easy reach. Then she sat down with a sheaf of laboratory charts.

            "Ok. Your lab results look pretty good. You're dehydrated from the constant vomiting, but not seriously enough to warrant hospitalization. I'm going to lower the amount of HCG, that's human chorionic gonadotropin, in your hormone cocktail, which should help with the nausea, and I'm writing you a prescription for some pills that should help too. Take one as soon as you get home, and then three times a day with your regular meds. If youre not keeping fluids down within forty-eight hours, come back and well admit you and rehydrate you by IV." She turned to Ray. "And I'm counting on you to make sure he takes care of himself. OK?"

            "Will do. Maybe with you behind me I can actually get him to listen to me."

            "All right. Then, if all goes well, I'll see you in two weeks."

            "Sure. Two weeks. Thanks, doc."

            Ben managed to pull himself together and compose his features into a polite smile. "Thank you kindly."

~~~November 18, 2003~~~

            The medication worked, and by the following day Bens morning sickness was down to manageable levels. The rest of the first trimester passed without incident. Ray solved sixty-eight cases over the computer, four of which earned him official commendations. Ben, since he was on sabbatical from the RCMP and had no assignments of his own, divided his time among helping with Ray's cases, volunteering with a few local service organizations, and reading. Once a week he would go out and bring home a thick stack of volumes. By October, he was well on his way to reading every book on pregnancy, baby care, and child rearing in circulation at three different libraries. He covered every aspect, from biology to philosophy to tribal customs and urban legends, and read the interesting bits out loud to Ray as he watched television. At first, Ray ignored him as usual, but the situation piqued his interest and he found himself listening. Within two weeks, he was reading over Ben's shoulder while the game played on unnoticed. Then came the night when the television stayed off and Ray picked up one of the books of his own volition. From then on, most of their evenings were spent contentedly reading baby literature and trading information.

            One night in mid-November, Ray laid down one book and reached for the next in the stack. He opened to the title page and read. Startled, he read it again, out loud. "A Compilation of North American Surnames: New Choices for Brides and Infants. Benny?"

            Ben looked up at him over the edge of The Revised Baby and Child Care. "Hmm?"

            Ray returned to his place on the unoccupied side of the bed. "What are we going to call this baby? I mean, would it be a Fraser or a Vecchio or what? You and I have always gone by our own names, but now what? Do we pick one or the other, do we hyphenate and if so which name goes first, or do we pick something entirely different, or what?"

            Ben laid down his book, inserting a bookmark with absentminded conscientiousness as he considered his answer. The only thing he could come up with was, "I have no idea, Ray." He stared at his partner with wide blue eyes, and Rays green ones returned his gaze with equal blank surprise. In over a year of preparation for this child, they had never once touched on the subject of names. "I suppose if it's a boy, we could give him a first name from one side and a last name from the other."

            "You mean like Benton Vecchio or Raymond Fraser? I dunno, Benny, I never really liked the idea of naming a kid after his father. Sorta gives him no identity of his own."

            "Well, it doesn't necessarily have to be one of our names, Ray. It could be any name that has a history in the family."

            "Then it'd have to be somethin' Fraser, because no way am I having a son named Tiberius Vecchio or whatever. What is it with your family not being able to pick out a decent first name? You remember when we first met and I didn't think you even had one?"

            "I remember, Ray." Ben smiled fondly at him. "You teased me about not having a first name, and then you gave me one."

            "Benny." Rays finger traced the line of Bens cheek, coming to rest in the dimple at the corner of Bens mouth. Then he kissed him, a warm kiss filled with long years of love and affection. When it ended, he rested his head in the curve of smooth neck and firm shoulder and they were both silent, content for a moment simply to be together. After a while, he spoke again. "So what if it's a girl?"

            "I don't know, Ray. I barely knew my mother, and your sister has already named her daughter after Sofia. Perhaps we should find a book of names?"

            "Yeah, I guess. But what about the last name?"

            Ben rubbed his eyebrow with the hand that was not moving slowly up and down Ray's back. "Traditionally, in most Western cultures at least, which of course includes the United States and Canada, a child is given the surname of the father. Now, as we are both male, technically we are both fathers, so this particular tradition is not really applicable to our situation. Although, since I am carrying the child, I suppose that one could say that I am, in a sense, the mother, which would mean that you are, by extension, the father. In that case, tradition would dictate that our child would be a Vecchio."

            "Yeah, but you're doing all the work, so it's only fair that it should be Fraser. Besides, theres already a new generation of Vecchios, since Frannie's kids all have her name. Youre the only Fraser left."

            "We could hyphenate. Or one name could be used as a surname and the other as a middle name. Something Fraser Vecchio."

            "Or Something Vecchio Fraser."

            "Either way."

            "Good, that's settled. Vecchio Fraser it is."

            "Ray..."

            "I'm serious, Benny. It's gotta be one way or the other. If it makes you feel better, you can think of it as putting my name first."

            Ben resigned himself to the inevitable with a smile. "All right, Ray."

            Satisfied, Ray switched off the lamp, settled himself against Ben and traced his fingers up and down the broad chest. The blue eyes drifted closed with a small sigh of enjoyment and the green followed. They were both nearly asleep when one of Ray's caresses encountered a nipple. Ben jumped slightly and shifted away with a small grimace. Ray raised his head.

            "Benny?"

            "Oh, it's nothing, Ray." He paused, and his blush was hidden by the darkness. "It's just a bit sensitive."

            "Oh." Ray digested this piece of information. "How sensitive?"

            "I don't know, Ray. Theyre just sensitive. They have been for a few days, actually. I've read about this; it's a perfectly natural occurrence. There have been a number of studies done, dating back approximately to the 1950s, in which male volunteers were given estrogen as a treatment for--"

            He was interrupted by a soft snore. Cracking a grin, he dropped a kiss on Ray's forehead, draped his free arm about the slim waist, and settled in to sleep.

~~~November 22, 2003~~~

            "Everything seems to be perfectly fine." Dr. Young looked up from her position stooped over Ben's abdomen, straightened her back slowly, and removed the stethoscope from her ears. "The babys heartbeat is strong, your hormone levels are right on target..." With mock formality she pronounced, "Mr. Fraser, I'd say your pregnancy is coming along precisely on schedule."

            Both men smiled at that. Ray pushed himself away from the wall where he'd been leaning. "Hey, Doc, theres something we've been meaning to ask you. Benny's doing fine, and we haven't seen the family in almost five months. We were wondering if it's OK to go back to Chicago for the holidays. I mean, we understand if you say no, because the university has a stake in this and maybe you need us to stick around where you can keep an eye on Benny for the research aspect and all that, but--"

            "Ray." Dr. Young interrupted him with a smile and her hand on his arm. "It's fine. You can go."

            "Really?"

            "Sure. Youre in the second trimester. You're past morning sickness and most of the possible complications would have occurred by now if they were going to. And it should still be a few months before weight gain becomes significant enough to cause any problems. Most of my patients describe this period as the perfect existence. Provided you keep up on your medication and make it back in time for your regular checkup, I see no reason why you shouldn't spend Christmas with your family." She smiled at two beaming faces. "You'll be flying, I take it?"

            The two men turned from their happy contemplation of each other, and Ben answered.

            "Yes, ma'am."

            "Do you suffer from airsickness?"

            "Not usually."

            She caught Ben's faintly puzzled expression and explained. "Some over-the-counter medications could interact with your other meds and affect the baby. If you needed something to travel, I would have had to write you a special prescription."

            "Ah. Thank you kindly, but that won't be necessary."

            "All right. Well, as I said, you and the baby are both doing just fine. Let me know your final travel plans and well arrange to check you out before you go and give you the green light. You have my number; you can call me or the university if you have any trouble. And Ill get you a number in case you need to see a doctor while youre away; I have a friend at one of the hospitals in Chicago. We were in med school together and I used to talk to him about my ideas on same-gender reproduction. I know he'll take good care of you, and we can count on him to be ah, discreet about the details of your condition."

That got a smile, and a slight blush from Ben. "Thanks, Doc," said Ray, slinging his coat over one arm and reaching out a hand for their customary parting shake. Ben hopped off the table and followed suit.

            "See you in two weeks, guys."

            "So, Benny," Ray asked as they drove back to the apartment, "It's Saturday, you're in perfect health, not that thats news, the baby's doing great, which is great news, we wrapped up the Manelli case on the computer last night, and we have the whole afternoon ahead of us. What do you wanna do? I hear theres a new movie showing downtown."

            Ben smiled dreamily. "How about a walk? There's a beautiful woods near the nursing home where I volunteer."

            "Youre gonna drag me on a hike in the middle of November?"

            "Ray, were in Georgia. This is hardly a Yukon winter, or even a Chicago winter, for that matter."

            "Its still cold out."

            "Ray, it is fifty-eight degrees Fahrenheit! Besides, you'll warm up as we walk."

            "Oh, all right. Do you know how to get to the nursing home from here? I've only been there that one time, remember, and that was coming from the other direction."

            "Of course. Just take a left at the next street, go straight until you cross the bridge, and its on your right."

            Ray did so, and in a few minutes they were pulling into a parking lot between a cozy-looking white building and a stand of tall, mostly bare grey trunks. "Come on, Ray."

            Ray climbed out of the car, wrapped his overcoat a little more tightly against the cool breeze, and followed the flannel-clad back disappearing up what appeared to be a precipitously steep hillside covered in about six inches of fallen leaves and entirely devoid of anything even remotely resembling a path. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Ray began the struggle upward. "Hey, Benny, wait up!" After several slips and one near-fall, he reached a stretch of more level ground where he found Ben waiting for him.

            Slipping a hand easily into his beloved's, Ben led him through the trees, keeping up a steady commentary. "Look how blue the sky is today, Ray. And look at the way the branches interlace against it. Isnt it beautiful?" Ray glanced at him with a quizzical half-smile, but said nothing. Ben's face wore the same happy, dreamy glow it had had ever since they had left the doctors office. Stooping, he picked up a fallen leaf nearly as long as his arm and held it up for Ray to admire. "Magnolia macrophylla," he pronounced. "One of the oldest genera of trees in existence. You know, Ray, the forests here are quite interesting. The climax forest is primarily made up of oak and hickory, but there is also a rich understory with literally dozens of species. It is far different from where I grew up, where the trees were predominantly pine and spruce..."

            Ray listened more to the joy that suffused the warm voice than to the ecological lecture it was delivering. They wandered slowly until they came to a small waterfall, next to which Ben crouched to investigate a patch of low, squashy-looking green growth and described, with unflagging enthusiasm, the reproductive habits of the common liverwort. Unable to hold it in any longer, Ray began to laugh. Ben halted in mid-lecture, puzzled.

            "Ray? What's so funny?"

            With a grin both tender and amused, Ray answered "I just love you, Benny."

            "And you find that amusing?"

            "Nah. Its just being here with you, listening to you talk about warty livers--"

            "Liverworts. W-o-r-t. From the Old English, meaning--" he was cut off as Rays lips pressed against his, then pulled back just enough so that they could look into each other's eyes.

            "I know, Benny," Ray said softly, and held his gaze with a smile until Ben found himself returning it. Then they were kissing again, and all was right with the world.

~~~December 22, 2003~~~

            "You realize we've been away from Chicago for over six months? Must be some kind of Vecchio family record. I dont think we've moved more than a couple of blocks since my grandparents came over back in the fifties."

            They were about half an hour into the flight from Atlanta to O'Hare, and Ray seemed even more agitated than was usual for him on airplanes. Realizing that his partner was simply nervous over seeing his family again, Ben paid little mind to the constant stream of words. After a polite "Hmm," he continued leafing through his issue of Modern Parenting.

            "Do you think it'll be any different than when we left? I mean, six months isn't a very long time, but I knew this guy when I was growing up who ran away from home and he was only gone for five months and when he came back his sister was married and his dad had had a heart attack and his mom and his little brother had moved into an apartment across town. Do you think it'll be like that for us? That different, I mean, of course it wouldnt be just like that since your dad's been dead for almost ten years and mine's been for what, fifteen or something, and both my sisters are married already and you couldn't get any of 'em out of that house if you burned it down around 'em. But it could be something else, y'know? Maybe well get back and find out that they've totally rearranged the Precinct or something or maybe--"

            "Ray." Ben laid down his magazine as Ray turned to face him with a wide and rather dazed-looking stare. "Your mother writes us once a week, Francesca send us email almost every day, and you correspond with various members of the police force through your work. If anything had changed drastically, I'm certain we would have been informed."

            Ray shook himself slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right." He turned to stare glassily out the window and drum his fingers on the tray table that held his untouched plastic cup of Coke. After a minute, Ben interrupted him again.

            "Ray. Ray." Ben touched his partner on the arm. "Ray."

            "Hmm?"

            With a faint smile, Ben looked pointedly at Rays hand. Ray followed his gaze, and abruptly stopped drumming and stuffed the offending hand between his knees. "Sorry." Then, just as abruptly, he shifted position, crossing his arms firmly and scrunching down in his seat. "Wake me up when we get to Chicago."

            "Ray." Ray opened one eye and regarded him silently. "The seats recline."

            "Oh." Rays fingers scrabbled for the lever, found it, and he tilted the seat back several degrees before closing his eyes again. "Thanks, Benny."

            Ben once again turned his attention to his magazine, and silence reigned until the plane touched down on the runway at O'Hare.

            "Ray! Benton! Over here!" Francesca hopped up and down and waved frantically across the terminal as she spotted the two men coming through the gate. With a broad Vecchio grin, Ray hurried to her as quickly as his enormous carry-on bag would allow and returned her hug and kiss with enthusiasm. Ben was only a few seconds behind, and accepted a warm sisterly embrace of his own. "C'mon, guys, lets grab your luggage and get outta here. Ma cant wait to see you and you won't believe what she's got cooked up. She's hardly been out of the kitchen the last three days. Won't let us touch anything either. It's been driving me nuts. Thank God youre finally here, maybe now she'll relax a little and we can breathe. How's it going, by the way? The, uh..." she gestured toward Ben's middle, not noticeably changed from when she had last seen it.

            "Everything is going very well, Francesca. The doctor says that the baby is perfectly healthy and developing according to schedule," Ben replied with the glowing smile he seemed to be wearing a lot lately.

            "That's great! Have you thought about names yet? I mean, do we even know if it's a boy or a girl?"

            Ben and Ray exchanged a look. "We've decided we don't wanna know until it's born," Ray answered finally. "And we haven't really come up with any names. Hes only at 17 weeks."

            "Nineteen, Ray. Or to be precise, eighteen weeks and six days," Ben corrected with a dreamy smile.

            Francesca laughed as Ray shook his head in feigned exasperation. "Cmon, Benny, there's our bags. Let's go home."

            The welcome they received back at the Vecchio household was almost overwhelming after the comparative peace of their Atlanta apartment. Everyone had moved back in for the holidays and in celebration of Ben and Rays visit, so the welcoming committee included Ray's mother, his two sisters and their respective husbands, eight children ranging in age from one and a half to sixteen, and a white mouse belonging to Francesca's daughter Rosie which Ben was repeatedly asked to admire. All was noise and ebullience and high spirits, and Ben suddenly realized that he had missed it while they had been away. Even when the children had long since collapsed, tired and happy, in a tangle of cushions and sleeping bags on the living room floor, the adults sat up sharing six months' worth of stories and jokes over mugs of hot cider in the kitchen. It was well after three in the morning when the two finally curled up together in the bedroom that had once been Ray's. It had belonged for six years to Marias eldest son Tino, but he had vacated it in honor of the occasion and with the aid of a few subtle hints about his Christmas stocking.

            "It's good to be home, Benny." Ray sighed as he snuggled up to the man he loved.

            Ben wrapped his arms around the slender body and kissed him goodnight. "Indeed it is, Ray."

~~~December 24, 2003~~~

            The next two days were more of the same, filled with family and food and laughter and love and preparations for the holiday. On the morning of Christmas Eve, Ray, Ben, Tony, and Francesca's husband Matthew went to get the tree while the women helped the smaller children string popcorn and cranberries onto lengths of heavy white thread. The heaps of garlands grew steadily and the bowls were nearly empty when the front door burst open and Ray appeared amidst a flurry of snowflakes, bent beneath the trunk of an enormous fir tree.

            "Hey, guys, come see what we got!" Ray shouted as the four wrestled the tree through the doorway, Ben guiding the prickly branches as Ray had expressly forbidden him to do any heavy lifting. There was a general exodus from kitchen, computer room, and various bedrooms as the original nine children and an additional four second-cousins responded to that magical summons. The range of expressions from pleasure to stark awe on the thirteen young faces that greeted the men made the heavy, sticky work of tree-hauling immediately and infinitely worthwhile. The tree was set up beside the fireplace and the base draped in white fabric, and then the younger generation was given free rein with the popcorn and berry strings. When the last string had been draped to perfection, the delightful discovery was made that the snow had finally "stuck" and the ground outside was covered in a soft, inch-deep carpet of white fluff. In a flurry of hats and mittens and jackets and scarves, everyone was outside and a grand free-for-all snowball fight was underway. Maria and fourteen-year-old Anna disappeared in the midst of the chaos and reappeared with a protesting Mrs. Vecchio. She finally consented to stay on the porch for a few minutes and watch the game. She was suddenly distracted by something cold and wet striking her leg and dribbling into her shoe. Looking down, she was confronted by an impish grin, and then the child was off like a shot. Forgetting her dignified grandmotherly status, she joined in the fray with a few amiable missiles of her own.

            Eventually, the game settled down. One by one, adults and children retreated to the warmth of the house or drifted off to make snow angels or work on snowmen. When Mrs. Vecchio came to the door to call them in for Christmas Eve dinner, only four rosy faces, one of them Ben's, were left outside to answer the call.

            The rest of the evening passed quickly, with carols to sing and stockings to hang, and ending in the traditional pomp and grandeur of Midnight Mass. When they returned, the children were quickly tucked away, distributed among several bedrooms this time so as to leave the living room free, and the adults turned to decorating. A CD of Christmas carols was put on, providing a soft background, and the boxes of lights and ornaments were brought out. The tree, pretty but plain in its modest garb of popcorn and cranberries, was transformed by the addition of shining balls, twinkling stars, and tiny framed photographs of every member of the family. String after string of multicolored lights added their sparkle, reflecting in the silver sheen of tinsel. Presiding over all was a beautiful antique Italian angel who had crossed the Atlantic in the bottom of Mrs. Vecchio's mother's steamer trunk, wrapped in a shawl. Gaily wrapped boxes were produced from hidden corners and closets to surround the tree, completely obscuring the snowy fabric that had been placed there. Finished at last, the seven workers sat down with glasses of fragrant eggnog to admire their handiwork. The embers of the dying fire silhouetted a long row of stockings, limp and shapeless only hours before but bulging now with the promise of good things for the morning to come. The firelight and the glow from the Christmas tree served as the rooms only illumination, enough for those who relaxed there in contented holiday weariness. Slowly the eggnog was finished and people drifted off to bed; Mrs. Vecchio first, then Maria and Tony, and finally Francesca and Matthew.

            Ben half-sat, half-lay at one end of the couch, and Ray stretched full-length upon it, his head resting on Ben's stomach. Ben watched Francesca's exit through half-closed eyelids, murmuring a sleepy goodnight. Ray did not respond at all, and Ben suspected that he was nearly asleep. He stroked the smooth cheek. "Ray."

            "Mmm?"

            "Lets go to bed."

            "Mmm." Ray shifted slightly, resettling himself against Ben. "Sleep here."

            "Now, Ray," Ben began, then suddenly fell silent. "Did you just move your head?"

            "Hnnh? Nnm-mmm." Ray denied somnolently.

            "I thought I felt... I suppose not." There was a pause. "There it is again."

            "Mmm."

            Suddenly, his weariness forgotten, Ben sat up, jolting Ray awake. "Ray!! The baby! I felt the baby move!"

            Ray was sitting up, rubbing at his eyes and yawning, until what Ben was saying sank in. When it did, he came fully awake in an instant. "You felt it move? Really?"

            Ben bit his lip and nodded, his eyes wide.

            "Where?" Ray bent excitedly over Bens abdomen.

            Bens fingers shook as he hurried to untuck his shirt and pull down the waistband of his slacks. He pressed Rays hand to a spot just below and to the left of his navel. "Here."

            Ray concentrated intently for a moment. "Wha'd it feel like?"

            "Well, it was very faint, Ray. It was like it was like being brushed by a snowflake, on the inside. It was wonderful, it was..." He shook himself.

            "I think I feel something!" It was in reality far too early for Ray to actually feel the baby's movements, but that small fact somehow failed to matter.

            Eventually they made it up to bed on that early Christmas morning, and fell asleep smiling with their joined hands resting on that magical spot where Ben had felt the universe move.

~~~December 25, 2003~~~

            The family was awakened shortly after dawn by a seemingly endless flood of excited children dashing up stairs and down hallways, urging the grown-ups to hurry and see what Santa brought. They emerged from their rooms in various combinations of pajamas and robes, yawning and rubbing away sleep, but smiled indulgently at the small hands tugging them towards the tree. It wasnt long before the Christmas spirit caught on, and the little room that had been so carefully decorated the night before overflowed with wrapping paper and bows and carefully selected gifts and squeals of delight. Ben and Ray watched it all from the couch, where Ben was reclining against Ray's chest. Rays chin rested on the top of Ben's head, and his arms held him in a loose embrace, his hands once more lying protectively on Ben's belly, covered by Ben's own. They had already received the best of all possible Chrismas gifts.

            Present-opening was followed by a festive breakfast, which for most of the household was followed by a much-needed nap. Ray had this in mind as he followed Ben up the stairs to their bedroom, and was startled to see his partner taking his red serge uniform from the storage bag where it had hung for the past six months.

            "Benny? Whatcha doin?"

            Ben turned. "Oh, hi, Ray. Just getting ready for the shelter Christmas party."

            "Oh yeah, I forgot. But that's not until three-- or did they move it up this year?"

            "No, I just thought there was a chance that my uniform would need attention after having been in the closet for so long. It does need ironing."

            "Why are you wearing the uniform anyway? Youre not really being a Mountie while youre serving punch and passing out cookies." Ray sat on the bed and watched as the Mountie continued his inspection, searching for loose threads in his tunic and pants, scratches in the polish of his boots, cracks in the oiled leather of his belt.

            "The children seem to respond to it, Ray. And the color is quite festive."

            Ray smiled to himself. His Benny had been happy during the past six months, sometimes happier than Ray had ever seen him before, but something had been missing. The moment his hand had touched the red serge with its shiny brass buttons, that something came back in a rush. He was Benton Fraser, RCMP, once more. "Missed it, hmm?"

            Ben looked up, startled, then smiled. "Very much so, yes. I hadn't realized."

            Rays smile was sympathetic. "C'mon. I'll get Ma to iron it for you."

            "Thank you kindly, Ray, but I'd rather do it myself."

            "I'll ask to borrow the iron."

            The ironing process took nearly an hour and was followed by a very thorough polishing of the already gleaming boots. Ray watched the proceedings with interest and more than a little amusement, reminded of the near-obsessive washing and waxing he had given each of his new Buick Rivieras just after hed bought them. Ben had offered his help, but he'd refused and allowed no one else near his cars until he had them just the way he liked them. At last, the grooming process was completed, and Ben appeared satisfied with the result. It had made no discernable difference to the uniform as far as Ray was concerned, but he wisely kept this information to himself.

            Ben laid the uniform lovingly on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom to shower and shave. He was back in record time, and as he picked up the regulation undershirt his valiant effort not to grin like an idiot resulted in an expression that made Ray want to laugh and cry at the same time. He quickly excused himself to perform his own ablutions and gave Ben some privacy.

            Ray returned to the bedroom to find a rather pink Mountie holding his breath as he attempted to buckle his belt. "Having some trouble, Benny?"

            Ben whirled around at the sound of his voice and flushed a deeper pink. "The uniform still fits, but I can't get my Sam Browne to its usual hole."

            Ray stared, then suddenly laughed. Ben looked hurt for a moment, then slowly began to laugh as well. Stepping back, Ray inspected his partner's waistline critically from various angles. "You don't look any different."

            Ben moved to examine himself in the mirror, and Ray followed, placing a hand on the red-clad shoulder and watching the reflections as the Mountie turned this way and that. "I think, Ray, that if you look youll see that I have indeed, ah, grown slightly. Right here." He touched his lower abdomen lightly.

            Ray squinted, then shook his head doubtfully. "I dunno, Benny."

            "Of course I have, Ray. Wait." He quickly stripped down to his boxer shorts, then once more stood before the mirror. Turning so that he was reflected in profile, he said, "Look."

            Obediently, Ray came up behind him and placed his head as close to Ben's as possible to see what he was seeing. And, just as he was about to give up in defeat, he saw it. A faint but unmistakeable roundness that had never been there before, a gentle curve to what had always been a perfectly flat plane.

He didn't say anything, but Ben was watching his face in the mirror and saw his expression change in an instant from skepticism to wonder. Smiling, he leaned back and dropped a swift kiss on Ray's cheek, then pulled away. Rays hand fell limply from his shoulder as he bent to pick up his jodhpurs. The striped pants were fastened around Bens waist-- fortunately they were designed to fit loosely, held up by suspenders-- before Ray recovered his voice.

            "Youre showing! But it's only five months!" He took Ben by the arms. Ben looked at him blandly, then continued dressing with pretended nonchalance.

            "Well, Ray, it's only logical that I would begin to show somewhat ahead of schedule. A woman's body is designed for pregnancy, and a certain amount of space is set aside to accommodate the growing child. A man's body, on the other hand, is arranged on a somewhat different principle, and any unusual bulk would make a greater, er, impact on the overall shape of the body in question. And in fact, many women begin to show at five months, some even earlier." His voice was matter-of-fact, and he continued to don his uniform efficiently, managing to keep his back toward Ray as he did so. This had the effect of throwing Ray back into shock, and he was about to say something about the inappropriateness of cold logic at a time like this when Ben suddenly turned around, revealing a radiant smile and eyes dancing with suppressed laughter.

            "You're teasing me!" Rays every feature bespoke outrage. "First the baby moves, and now you're showing, and you're teasing me! I dont know whether to kill you or kiss you!"

            Ben still smiled, but his voice was serious as he answered. "I certainly hope you won't kill me. I remember what it was like to grow up with a single father, and I wouldn't want our child to have to live like that. Although I have every confidence that you would make a... a wonderful father."

            "Oh, no, youre not getting outta diaper duty that easy. Guess I'll just have to kiss you then."

            "Well, then, by all means."

            There was silence in the room for several minutes after that, and then it was time to get ready to leave. It is doubtful whether any of the orphans at the party that afternoon noticed the stripe, visible for the first time in twenty-two years, where the leather between the second and third holes of Ben's belt had been worn shiny by the edge of its buckle. But Ben retained a pleasant consciousness of it, and of what it signified, and his smiles that day were just a little brighter, and lingered just a little longer, on account of it.

            There was one other person at the shelter who did notice the state of his uniform. As he was carrying a tray of dirty cups into the shelters kitchen, he bumped into another figure in a red serge tunic coming through the door in the opposite direction. There was a flurry of brown hair, then a surprised voice.

            "Constable Fraser!"

            "Inspector?"

            "I was told you were on sabbatical."

            "I was I mean, I am. Ray and I came back for the holidays. May I?" He indicated his tray, and she moved aside to let him pass, then followed him into the kitchen.

            "Ray?" she asked, confused.

            He spoke over his shoulder as he placed the cups one by one into the dishwasher. "Ray Vecchio. The detective."

            "Oh, yes. I remember." She paused. "You live together?"

            "Mm-hm." Ben nodded.

            Meg was silent for a moment while she absorbed this information. "Well. A lot can happen when youre gone for six years, can't it, Fraser?"

            "Indeed, sir. Although Ray and I have been together for over seven years, actually. We had to keep our relationship discreet, in the beginning." He paused, and when she did not respond, he changed the subject. "How have you found your posting in Ottawa?"

            She answered gratefully, "I've liked it very much. Its been a good career move for me. I came back to Chicago on business earlier this week, and we decided to stay for this party. Laura was only five when I adopted her, so she doesnt remember much about this place. She wanted to see it again, and I offered to help out. The nuns said they'd be happy to have us."

            "Theyre often short-handed.  I come every year."

            "Ah." She nodded, and the conversation fell into an uncomfortable silence, filled only by the clinking of dishes as Ben finished loading the machine, then a click and a steady humming noise as it was turned on. Finally Ben rinsed his hands and dried them on the tattered dishtowel, then turned to face her, unconsciously standing at parade rest. Automatically she scanned his uniform, as though she was still his commanding officer and he was standing for inspection. Her eyes were caught by the worn place on his belt, and held there. A sharp reprimand was on the tip of her tongue when she caught herself and looked up at his face, blushing slightly. She noticed the faintly sheepish smile on Ben's face as she did so, but said nothing as he led the way back to the common room where the party was just breaking up.