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~~~~December 27, 2003~~~
Two days later, Ben received a telephone call at the Vecchio house. "Constable Fraser? This is Meg Thatcher. I thought I might find you there." She paused, then hurriedly continued. "I have a, uh, request to make of you. A favour, really. Do you have plans for Monday?"
"I don't believe so, sir. Is something wrong?"
"No... well, yes. You are undoubtedly wondering why I am still in Chicago instead of having returned home to Ottawa."
"The thought had crossed my--"
"Of course. Well, that reason would be... that... I have been temporarily reassigned to my consular duties here."
"I see. Well. Ah... welcome back. The consulate has not been the same place in your absence. I fail to see where I come in, however."
"I find that I am somewhat understaffed. Apparently Constable Wade is not expected to return until after New Year's, and Constable Baker contracted giardia while ice fishing in a beaver pond during his vacation, which will prevent his reporting to work on schedule. On Monday afternoon we will be receiving a visit from the Afghani ambassador, and I would be most... appreciative if you would be willing to fill in. I understand that you are on sabbatical, of course, and you would be compensated appropriately..."
"I would be happy to, sir."
"You would? That's wonderful! I mean, thank you, Fraser. I'll see you Monday at nine, then?"
"Yes, sir. I'll be there."
"Right. Until Monday, then."
"Goodbye, sir."
~~~December 29, 2003~~~
Monday morning came, and Ben arrived at the consulate at precisely 8:50 AM. He had spent most of the previous evening working on his belt, and as a result it shone with a gloss that would have struck any cleanser salesman who happened to come by the consulate dumb with wonder. However, try as he might, he'd been unable to erase the shallow crease between the second and third holes. As he knocked on the door to the Chief Liason Officer's suite, he crossed his fingers and silently prayed that the Inspector would not question him about it.
Luck seemed to be with him. Meg Thatcher scarcely looked up as he entered the room and stood at attention before her desk, carefully positioning himself so that a convenient poinsettia stood between her and his midsection. She finished her typing, then turned to him.
"Ah, Constable. I want to thank you again for coming in like this. You will find the necessary papers on your old desk; I would like those filled out and returned to me by eleven o'clock sharp. After that, the lobby and reception room need to be dusted and put in order for the arrival of the ambassador and his party at two. The state they are in now is truly disgraceful; I can't imagine what Inspector Carter was thinking. If you finish early, there are other things you can assist me with. You can take your usual half hour break for lunch. Dismissed."
"Yes, sir." Relieved, he turned and headed for the door at a dignified walk that was dangerously close to a sprint.
It was not quite eleven o'clock when he was caught. Having finished the thick stack of forms and protocol sheets he had been assigned, Ben returned to his superior's office, reflecting briefly that technically she was no longer his superior at all. The high-profile cases he'd solved since coming to Chicago had earned him promotions in rapid succession, and he had taken over the post of Chief Liason Officer less than a year after she had resigned it. He had been running the consulate himself before leaving on sabbatical that summer. Carter had been a temp, hired to fill in for him. Thatcher couldn't be expected to know that, however, and he certainly wasn't going to tell her.
He carried the papers in front of him until he reached 'his' poinsettia, then held them out to her. She took them, standing up as she did so. He did a quick sidestep, but it was too late. She had once again spotted his belt, and this time she felt within her rights to call him on it.
"Constable."
"Sir?"
"I trust you have a reasonable explanation for the disgraceful state of your uniform?"
He feigned innocence, hoping to stall for time. "My uniform, sir?"
"Your uniform, Constable. Specifically, your belt."
Ben studied the floor and shuffled his feet slightly. "My belt. Ah... yes, sir. I seem to have... ah... gained some weight, sir."
"And you were unable to locate a belt that fit properly?"
"Well, sir, you see, this is rather a recent development, and one which I expect will rectify itself by the time I am scheduled to return to active duty. I would hardly feel justified in requisitioning another belt for this one assignment, sir."
"Rectify itself? Maintaining a proper weight just takes a little discipline. You're obviously not pregnant, Constable, and there is no other excuse for allowing oneself to get into this condition, even on vacation. Unless you can lose the weight by two o'clock, I suggest you go to the supply closet and borrow a larger belt. I expect you to be presentable for our guests."
"Yes, sir," he answered stiffly. "And then shall I see to the lobby and reception room, sir?"
"Yes, Constable. A little physical activity will be just the thing for your, ah, condition. Dismissed."
"Sir--"
"Dismissed, Constable."
"Respectfully, sir, it's Inspector, Inspector. And physical exertion is contraindicated for my condition." He turned smartly and walked out the door. She stared after him, the additional stripes on his sleeve and the slant of the offending belt finally registering. Even after he had turned the corner, their afterimage remained, as though burned into her retinas.
Ben cleaned the two rooms with an angry efficiency. When he had finished, he straightened the Deputy Liason's office, reorganized the filing cabinets, and alphabetized the contents of the medicine cabinet by active ingredient. He passed the time in arguing with himself, trying to talk himself out of his anger. Inspector Thatcher was probably under a great deal of stress, he thought. She had never liked Chicago, and he could only assume that her reposting here was a form of punishment, as his own had been so long ago, or perhaps she was escaping further personal problems in Ottawa. She was obviously uncomfortable with her transfer, since she had lied about it at their first meeting. Undoubtedly her domineering and condescendinghe mentally reprimanded himself for using such loaded termsattitude towards him was an attempt at regaining a sense of control over her life, and he should have simply accepted it, let her give him orders if it helped her. It didn't hurt him, and it was only for a day.
But she insulted your child, insisted the rebellious part of his mind. Your child and Ray's.
"No, she didn't. There was no way she could have known about the pregnancy. As far as Inspector Thatcher was aware, I had simply allowed myself to become overweight through laziness or inappropriate diet, and if that had been the case she would have been right to reprimand me for it." Acetominophen. Aloe. Bacitracin. Capsaicin.
You could have had some other medical condition.
"Yes, but that is not the point. 'When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.' She was making the most logical assumption." Cimetidine. Dextromethorphan. Diphenhydramine hydrochloride.
And why did she notice your belt and completely overlook your rank?
"She is an Inspector. It is her duty to ensure that the uniforms of those under her command are maintained in accordance with RCMP standards. It is not her duty to inspect the number of stripes on the sleeves of said uniforms. The change in direction of my shoulder strap may not have registered, as it would be consistent with that of the uniforms she would see regularly at headquarters." Kaopectate. Ketoprofin. Lidocaine. Menthol. Neosporin. Pectin. Petroleum.
You noticed her rank.
"Which is another reason she may not have noticed mine. Her rank is the same as it was when she left; it may not have occurred to her that mine would not be." Polymyxin B Sulfate. Pseudoephedrine. Salicylic acid. Saline. Sodium bismuthate.
Sour grapes.
"Now, that is simply inexcusable. Inspector Thatcher is a dedicated and hardworking officer. Only a small percentage of officers can expect to progress beyond the level of Inspector. She was completely within her rights, and I ought to apologize." Zinc glutonate. He closed the door of the medicine cabinet with a snap and left the bathroom.
His knock was quickly answered with a polite "Come in." He entered the office, to find Inspector Thatcher standing at attention behind her desk. Before he could say anything, she spoke.
"Inspector Fraser. I want to apologize for what I said to you earlier. I should have checked your current rank and assignment before addressing you as a subordinate. I can't imagine why I was not informed at the time I was told of your sabbatical. Still, if I had been paying proper attention, I would have noticed the change in your uniform. I have been remiss in my duties. I'm sorry, Fraser."
"Oh, no, sir. No apologies necessary. In fact, I ought to apologise for my tone when I left earlier. You were quite right about my belt."
"I noticed you had changed it. Thank you, Fraser. Now please, sit down. You say you have some kind of condition that doesn't allow you to exercise?"
Ben sat, and so did Meg. "Yes, sir. Normal activity is fine, but the doctor says I'm not to perform any strenuous exercise until after... for the next several months."
"You must find that very difficult."
Ben blushed slightly. "Yes, sir. Ray has threatened more than once to tie me to the bed if I don't stop 'trying to save the world,' as he puts it." Suddenly realizing what he had just said, he looked up quickly, but she did not seem unduly disturbed by his statement. Evidently she had made her peace with their relationship over the past four days.
"What exactly is your condition?" Her voice reflected only gentle concern.
"I'd rather not say, sir." She may have been comfortable with the idea of his being involved with another man, but he was reasonably sure that the knowledge that he was pregnant with that man's baby would cause her to rupture something.
Meg appeared slightly rebuffed. "Well, that's your business, of course, Fraser. I hope it's nothing life-threatening?"
"Oh, no, sir. Quite the opposite, in fact. I feel wonderful."
"You are looking extremely well. Your vacation seems to have done you some good. Have you been spending it up North?"
"Atlanta, actually, sir."
"Atlanta?"
"Georgia, sir."
"I'm familiar with the city, Constable-- I mean, Inspector. Fraser. It just seems like an odd place for a man of your background to spend his vacation."
"I must admit that it's not exactly the sort of environment I'm used to. It was nearly Christmas when we left, and the garden in front of the clinic was still blooming. It makes even the Chicago winter seem--"
"Clinic? You go regularly, then?"
"Every other Saturday."
"For how long?"
"About four more months. And then we're supposed to return for checkups once a year, though we'll be living in Chicago for the rest of the time."
She was clearly baffled, but did not press the point any further. "You'll be returning to work at the Consulate, then? I assume you've been running it since your promotion."
Ben smiled modestly. "Yes, sir."
"I'm glad to hear it, C-- Fraser. Then there's hope that I won't be stuck here."
"Sir?"
"I know you've made a home for yourself here, Fraser, but I haven't. I belong in Ottawa, especially now that I have Laura to think of. We have a life there."
"If you don't mind my asking, sir, why are you here?"
"It's a long story. I found myself in an uncomfortable situation as regards my superior officer, and I needed a way out. When I heard that this position was open, I volunteered for the job. I didn't check to see if it came with a time limit, and once I got here I was afraid I'd have a hard time getting back. Another resignation would not look good on my record. As it is, by the time you return, he will have most likely moved on, and I will be able to resume my old position."
"Ah. Well. Best of luck to you, sir."
"And to you, Fraser. I hope you're recovered soon."
"Thank you kindly, sir."
"Call me Meg. I'm not really your superior officer anymore."
"If you don't mind, sir, I would prefer not to. You are still my superior officer in position at the moment, if not in rank."
If he was not mistaken, Meg looked somewhat relieved at this. The silence had just begun to grow uncomfortable when it was broken by the sound of the consulate door opening and closing, followed by Ray's voice calling out in the lobby. Ben stood up quickly. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I'll be going to lunch. The rooms are ready for the reception this afternoon, and I will be back by one o'clock to help with any final preparations."
"Dismissed, Fraser. And Fraser," Ben had already turned to go, and he turned back to face her. "Take as long as you need for lunch."
"Thank you, sir."
Ben had just reached the office door when it swung open and Ray entered with a large paper bag from which appetizing-smelling steam was rising. "Hey, Inspector." He reached for the Mountie, but Ben turned his head abruptly so that the kiss landed on his cheek. He stepped back slightly, a question on his face, and Ben flicked his eyes warningly at the desk. Ray glanced over. "Oh, sorry. Inspectors. Good to see you again, ma'am. Benny mentioned you were back."
"I wish I could say it was good to be back, Detective."
"Homesick, huh?" He turned to Ben, who met his eyes briefly. "Hey, you have lunch yet? Ma always packs enough for five or six people."
Meg hesitated. The pair looked so comfortable together, and she didn't want to intrude. Ben's voice broke into her thoughts.
"Please, Inspector. We'd be honored to have you join us."
"Do you have enough for Laura, too?"
"Is your daughter here?" Ben asked, surprised.
"She's upstairs, reading. She was down about an hour ago, but I suppose you were busy then."
"She's very quiet." After nine years of Vecchio children, the idea that an eleven-year-old could be in a building for three and a half hours without making a single noise loud enough to be heard in a different room shocked Ben.
"Laura has been coming to work with me for years. I've never liked the idea of day care. She knows how to amuse herself without disturbing anyone."
Ben and Ray blinked at each other. Ray recovered first. "Uh, sure. Like I said, we've got plenty of food. Why don't you go call her and Benny and I'll go set this stuff out in the dining room?"
En route through the hall, Ray muttered to Ben, "The Dragon Lady as a mom. This I gotta see."
"Now, Ray. I saw Laura at the shelter's Christmas party, and she seemed to me like a normal, healthy, happy child. She and Inspector Thatcher seemed quite close."
"Hmph."
Lunch with Meg and Laura was interesting, to say the least. While carrying on a polite, if not exactly stimulating, conversation about the events of the last six years, both Ben and Ray managed to covertly watch the child as she ate. Laura sat perfectly straight in her chair, napkin in her lap, and did not touch her food until after her mother began eating. She held her knife and fork in precise accordance with international diplomatic standards, though her small hands made this something of a challenge, and rested her left hand in her lap when she was not using it. When someone asked her a question, she answered clearly and completely, but was otherwise silent. She finished her lasagna, crossed her fork and knife neatly at the top of her plate, and sat with her hands folded in her lap. She started to swing her legs once, but quickly stilled them and looked worriedly about her to see if anyone had noticed. Ray had, and threw her a mock glare, then smiled and winked at her. She blushed and returned the smile shyly.
After a few minutes, Meg noticed that her daughter had finished. "You may be excused, Laura."
The two men had an eerie feeling that they were watching a porcelain doll come to life as Laura hopped out of her chair, stood on tiptoe to kiss her mother on the cheek, and skipped out of the room. The three adults watched her go.
"I can't believe how fast she's growing up," Meg said, half to herself. "They say you never notice how fast time moves until you have children."
"She comes to a lot of formal events with you, doesn't she?" Ray asked.
"She comes almost everywhere with me, Detective. I... never spent a great deal of time with my parents, and I don't want to do the same thing to Laura."
Ben's face mirrored his own lonely upbringing. "She's very lucky to have you."
"She's a gift. You don't know what you're missing, Fraser."
Ben looked at Ray, who returned the glance with one of caution. He plunged ahead anyway. "Actually, Inspector, Ray and I are starting a family of our own."
Meg's voice registered surprise and pleasure. "Oh, you two are adopting?"
"N--" Ben began, then suddenly broke off and gingerly rubbed his ankle where Ray's foot had connected with it.
"That's right," Ray picked up smoothly. "In fact, that's one of the major reasons Benny and I took this year off. There were a lot of details that needed to be worked out."
"I imagine Inspector Fraser's illness complicated matters."
There was a startled silence, during which Ray shot a look that was half worry, half incredulity at Ben. Then, "I, ah... as I mentioned earlier, ma'am, my, ah, condition is not particularly serious, and could not be considered to hinder the, ah, process. In addition to which, I expect I will be back to normal by the time the child is born."
"Born? Oh, you're doing a surrogate pregnancy?" Meg's face, which had been developing increasing lines of puzzlement, suddenly cleared.
"In a manner of speaking, sir."
"Is one of you the father?"
"He is," they answered in unison. "I mean, I am. We both are." Confusion reigned supreme as the two men tried to find agreement and Meg stared at them both.
Finally Ray explained. "We think of the baby as being both of ours, no matter who the father is. We actually don't know." That at least was true, he reflected.
"You don't know? Oh, you mean a mixed sample?"
"You could say that," he answered. Ben just looked relieved.
"Well... I'm sure I don't really need details. I hope it goes well. When is the baby due?"
"Around Eastertime, possibly later, depending on a number of factors," Ben answered.
"I certainly hope you'll let me know when she's born. Oh, do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"
Ben shook his head. "We decided to wait for the traditional 'big moment,'" said Ray, casually taking Ben's hand.
A peculiar expression that was a bittersweet mixture of longing, envy, genuine pleasure at their happiness, and something almost like regret crossed Meg's face at the simple gesture, quickly hidden as she busied herself with clearing the table. "Well," she said briskly, "Congratulations, Detective, Fraser. And now, if you'll excuse us, Detective, Inspector Fraser and I have work to do before the ambassador arrives. Thank you very much for lunch. It was delicious."
Ray grinned. "I'll tell Ma." He picked up the paper sack she had repacked with the empty containers and turned to Ben. "Pick you up at six, right?"
Ben nodded. "I'll walk you out." They walked together to the front door of the Consulate, where Ben held the bag as Ray pulled on his overcoat and handed him his wool cap and scarf. As Ray reclaimed the bag, Ben reached out and adjusted his cap slightly, the gesture easily melting into a caress as he pulled his partner into a warm goodbye kiss.
Meg watched them, unseen, with the same bittersweet smile. By the time the heavy wooden door closed against the fat white snowflakes that were once again falling outside and Ben turned back towards her and the work ahead, she was out of sight.
*****
"You know, Benny," Ray said as they were undressing for bed that night, "you really need to be a little more discreet about this. I know how you feelI mean, personally I'd like to shout it from the rooftops, but we do that and our family's going to become some big media circus."
"I understand, Ray, but I'm sure Inspector Thatcher would be discreet. She often has to be, as an officer of the RCMP. And once she had recovered from her initial surprise, she seemed to be sincerely happy for us. I admit I had my doubts at first, but--"
"I know, Benny," Ray interrupted, placing a hand on Ben's shoulder. "There are a lot of people we could tell, and most of them would be happy for us, and it would probably be OK. But it only takes one mistake, one time telling the wrong person, or the right person on the wrong day, and that person tells somebody else and it's all over the place before we know it, and maybe somebody doesn't like it and decides to do something about it. We took that chance coming out, but back then we just had the two of us to worry about. It's not just us anymore," he finished, touching Ben's stomach gently with his other hand.
Ben turned away quickly and resumed hanging up his uniform. "I'm sorry, Ray. I guess I just wasn't thinking," he said over his shoulder. His voice sounded strange, and Ray glimpsed the brief flash of a tear as it caught the lamplight.
He was stunned. Benton Fraser was crying? In all the years of their relationship and the close friendship that had preceded it, he could count on one hand the number of times he had seen those blue eyes clouded by tears. This was the first time he had ever seen them fall. "Benny?"
Ben kept his back to him, facing out into the shadows of the winter street. He pulled away from Ray's touch at first, but an arm snaked its way insistently around his ever-so-slightly expanded waist. "I'm fine." He wiped at his eyes almost violently, struggling for control. He laughed weakly, self-mockingly, as the tears continued to flow. "I'm sorry. I don't know why..."
"Shh. It's OK." Ray pulled the dark head down to rest on his shoulder and this time met with little resistance. "It's the hormones, Benny. You've got all sorts of chemicals inside you that make you react in ways you wouldn't usually. It's OK. You shoulda seen Maria when she was pregnant with Tino. One minute she'd be laughin, the next minute she'd be cryin' her eyes out over the tiniest little thing. You gotta expect that. It's normal."
They stood like that in the window for a little while longer, with the moonlight from above and its reflection from the snow below creating a weird shadowless glow. After a few minutes, Ben straightened and wiped his eyes. "Thank you, Ray," he said, his voice still slightly husky. He touched Ray's shoulder gently, flushing guiltily when his hand came away damp. "I'm sorry."
"Aw, it's nothing. Good thing I hadn't put on my pajama top yet, huh?" That won him a smile, and he extricated himself from their loose embrace and crossed to the bed. Rubbing the tears into his skin, he pulled on an oversized jacket of dark green silk. Noticing that his partner was still standing by the window, he left it unbuttoned. Coming up behind him, he wrapped his arms around Ben's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. "Whatcha thinking, Benny?"
"Hmm? Oh, nothing, really. It's just that... I've been overreacting to things all day. At first, when Inspector Thatcher reprimanded me for gaining weight, and I became angry and spoke to her sharply when I--"
"Hold on a second. She did what?"
"She noticed that my belt was worn where I had been unable to tighten it as far as I used to, and she reprimanded me for it. She was quite right, Ray. I should never have worn a belt that I knew did not fit properly."
"Benny..."
"The point, Ray, is that instead of accepting her rebuke as I ought to and simply changing my belt, I allowed myself to feel personally insulted by it and responded in a manner unbecoming--"
"Benny, that is personal. It doesn't get much more personal than telling somebody how much they should weigh. You shoulda told her it was none of her business and butt out."
"I did."
"Really?" Ray was incredulous.
"Well, not in so many words, of course. But I should think that the message was clear enough. I was really quite inexcusably rude."
Ray chuckled, having a pretty good idea of what Benny being 'inexcusably rude' probably entailed. "Here I've been trying to get you to stick up for yourself for nine years and this kid comes along and does it in five months. Way to go, Benny."
"But, Ray, I really ought not--"~
"Hey, Benny, it's OK. You apologized afterwards, didn't you?"
"Well, yes, but--"
"Then you're OK. Everybody has a bad day every once in a while. I'm sure the Inspector understands. I mean, how many times has she been rude to you?"
"I don't actually keep count, Ray."
"Exactly. If you don't hold it against her, why hold it against yourself?"
"I don't know, Ray, I just... it's..." he floundered helplessly, unable to find the words for what he was trying to say. He realized he didn't even really know what he wanted to say.
Ray kissed the cheek beside his own. "Don't worry about it, Benny. Come to bed." He led an unresisting Mountie from the window. "This whole pregnancy thing might be good for you. For more reasons than the obvious, I mean."
Ben smiled doubtfully as he pulled up the blankets. "Maybe."
*****
A few miles away, in an apartment whose large Christmas tree was surrounded by cardboard boxes not yet completely unpacked, Meg Thatcher lay awake. She had gone to bed soon after tucking Laura in, but had been unable to sleep. Her mind kept travelling back to the day she had just spent at the Consulate. Constable Fraser was no longer the shy, solitary, young man homesick for the Arctic with whom she had once considered a relationship. He was now Inspector Fraser, apparently in a committed homosexual relationship with a Chicago cop, and adopting a baby with him. And mysteriously ill... she wondered what was wrong with him. He was not supposed to exercise, which probably meant that either his heart was weak or he had injured one of his legs in some way. But surely if he had had some sort of heart defect it would have been detected long before this... and given his lifestyle, Fraser was the last person she would have expected to suffer from what was essentially a hypokinetic disorder. An injury, then? That would account for his expectation that it would heal itself in time, but she had not noticed any kind of a cast or brace, and he walked with no trace of a limp. Besides, he expected his recovery to last for four more months, and it must have taken quite some time for him to gain that much weight. A little too long for most fractures to heal. Also, why would he have to go to a clinic every other week, and then return every year? No, she would have to rule out injury.
What, then? She cast her mind back, trying to remember every time she had seen Fraser that day. He had seemed a bit more temperamental than she remembered, but it had been six years since they had last worked together. Possibly her memory was faulty; he was still without a doubt the politest man she had ever known. He had eaten somewhat more than she'd expected at lunch... she remembered thinking then that it was no wonder he was gaining weight. Ray hadn't seemed disturbed by it, though; in fact, he'd encouraged it, offering him more even before he had finished what was on his plate. Hardly behavior one would expect towards someone who was intending to bring his weight back down once his illness was cured. It was maddening, really. What could possibly be wrong with the man?
Suddenly another image flashed into her mind. At one point during the afternoon, she'd been entertaining the Ambassador and his two companions, and had glanced across the room to see Fraser deep in conversation with the ambassador's wife, whom she estimated to be about seven months pregnant. The thought had crossed her mind that the two looked very much alike, but was quickly forgotten as she turned back to her duties as a hostess. Now she remembered, and wondered where the similarity had been. The young woman was tiny compared to Fraser's six feet and broad shoulders, and her brown skin and flowing black dress contrasted completely with Fraser's light complexion and stiff red serge. Their features showed clearly that their ancestry had diverged thousands of years ago and probably not touched since. And yet... she replayed the scene again in her mind.
Then it struck her: the likeness was one of action and expression, not appearance. The two faces, so different outwardly, were lit by the same inner glow, the same vibrancy that spoke of health and deep happiness. And that gesture-- the way the woman had laid her hand over her protruding belly in an unconscious caress... she had seen Fraser do it at least twice that day. But he couldn't... could he? If there was anyone she knew who could be counted on to get himself into a bizarre situation...
Abruptly she shook herself. "What am I thinking?" she said aloud into the darkness. Fraser couldn't be pregnant; the thing was absurd, was impossible. Now, what could mimic the symptoms of pregnancy? Flipping back the blankets and pulling on a robe, she padded across the bedroom to her desk, where she removed several boxes from the chair. Switching her computer on and settling in with a sigh, Meg began her research.
~~~January 3, 2004~~~
"Hey, guys! Welcome back." Dr. Young greeted the two men warmly as they entered the familiar examination room. "How was Chicago?"
"Wonderful!" Ben was in one of his 'glowing' moods, and the effect was somewhere between beautiful and comical. "But it's wonderful to be back, too," he added, beaming, as he lifted himself onto the table and lay back blissfully.
Ray grinned and shook his head as he hung up his overcoat. "It was cold," he commented. "Don't you guys have a winter at all down here?"
"Sure we do. You guys got in yesterday afternoon, right? You probably just missed it by a couple of hours." She turned back to Ben, suppressing a laugh and settling for a twinkling smile as she took in his beatific air. "So, I take it the second trimester is agreeing with you?"
Ben agreed cheerfully. "Oh, it's wonderful. I felt the baby move twice while we were away, and I've gained 3.4 kilograms over my normal body weight, and I just feel... wonderful." He lapsed into silence, but his eyes spoke eloquently of the sheer joy coursing through his body. After a moment he spoke again. "Aren't you going to examine me?"
Dr. Young responded with amused understanding. "You have to change into the hospital gown."
Ben glanced down at himself, startled. "Oh!" His hands flew to his chest, and he blushed. He looked from the doctor's face to where Ray sat, chin in hand, watching them with no attempt to hide his enjoyment. He shot him a glare, and Ray pulled back in a gesture of feigned innocence. "Oh. Yes. If you'll excuse me..." With a wounded air, he accepted the folded blue garment held out to him by a still-grinning Ray. Whipping the privacy curtain closed with a little more force than necessary, they could hear him muttering indignantly to himself amidst the rustling of clothing.
Dr. Young crossed the room to Ray's chair, and leaned down to speak with him quietly. "How long has he been like this?"
"You mean the mood swings? I dunno... he's been building to it for the last month or two. Then after he felt the baby move, he was like he was when we came in for about three days, and since then he's been up and down a lot. Mostly up."
She nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. The levels of estrogen and progesterone in his hormone cocktail increase gradually throughout the second trimester, mimicking the natural hormone progression of a pregnant woman. The increase would have started about six weeks ago-- that sound about right?"
"About."
"And then the psychophysiological effects of quickening-- that's what we call--"
"Feeling the baby move." Ray interrupted. "We've done a lot of reading."
"I bet you have. Anyway, the quickening would most likely have caused his natural endorphins to go through the roof, causing what you see here. You say the effects have been mostly positive?"
"Oh, yeah. Most of the time you couldn't scrape that grin off his face if you tried. Every once in a while he'll get depressed, but it doesn't usually last long. Once I actually saw him cry, though."
"Cry? What happened?" She sank to a crouching position facing him. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, so their faces were almost on a level.
"Nothing much. He wanted to tell somebody about the baby, and I said I didn't think it was a good idea because it might be dangerous if too many people knew about it. The thought that he might have put the baby in danger I think was what made him cry."
"You didn't... blame him, or accuse him of putting the baby in danger, did you?"
Ray sat up, pulling away from her with an expression of mixed surprise, hurt, and anger. "Of course not. What do you take me for?"
Dr. Young rocked back on her heels. "I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't mean anything by it. I just had to make sureI mean, I haven't known him long, but crying doesn't really seem in character for the Ben I've met. If you didn't provoke it in some way, it might be a symptom that his hormone levels are too high and I'll need to adjust them. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything."
Ray relaxed visibly. "Oh. Well, that's all right, then. And you're right, he isn't the crying type. I've known him for almost ten years, and I never saw him shed a tear until now. Doesn't mean he might not have, but at least he's never let me see it before."
"Hmm. Well, we'll know more when we get his blood levels back. And if, as you say, this is an isolated incident and the rest of the time he's mostly happy, we may be all right as we are."
"Is there--" Ray began, but was cut off by the sound of the curtain opening, and Ben stood before them, white boxers just visible beneath the short blue gown which hung open slightly in the front.
"Are you two discussing me?" Ben smiled slightly, looking a little embarrassed at his earlier emotional display.
"Yep, Benny, we are." Ray's voice and expression were warm with affection.
Ben flushed, but he didn't look mad. "I think I'm ready for my physical now, Doctor." He climbed back onto the table and lay down.
Dr. Young laid a professional hand on his abdomen, palpating gently. "Feels pretty good. There's no tenderness anywhere?" Ben shook his head. "Ok, let's take a look with the ultrasound. The fetus should be about seven inches long, so it should make a pretty good picture. Could you pull that over here for me, please, Ray?" she asked, indicating the large machine that stood in the corner.
Ray obliged, positioning the monitor as he had seen it done several times in the last six months and handing her the various controls. "Nurse still on vacation?"
"Mm-hmm." She carefully hooked up the fetal heart monitor and adjusted a few wires before answering completely. "Silvina will be back in a few days. Bill's here, but he's helping out with a birth down the hall. The regular hospital staff is on call, of course, in case anything goes wrong, but I didn't really want to bring in anybody outside my immediate regular staff unless I had to." She touched a button, and the room was suddenly filled with the soft, rapid beeping of the tiny heartbeat.
Ray's eyes locked with Ben's in a shared glance of love and satisfaction, and their fingers interlaced.
"Sounds fine. 160, right where it ought to be." The doctor adjusted the ultrasound monitor and picked up the gel to coat Ben's abdomen. "Let me just..." she adjusted his boxers and gown to expose the whole area. "You're showing a bit. Congratulations!"
"We noticed," they said in unison. After a slight pause, Ben added, "Thank you kindly."
For a few minutes after that the only sounds in the room were the beeping of the heart monitor, the faint, sticky glide of the ultrasound sensor over Ben's slight bulge, and the scratch of Dr. Young's pen as she took notes. Finally she put down the clipboard and smiled at them. "It looks like she's doing just great. A little small for her age, but we expected that, since she doesn't have quite as rich a blood supply as she would get from the uterine lining. You've been taking it easy, haven't you?"
They were both staring at her. Ray found his voice first. "She?"
Dr. Young nodded. "She looks like a little girl, though it's hard to be absolutely certain. I was almost expecting a boysince you're both male, the chances were about two to one that you'd have a sonbut I don't see a..." she trailed off, struck by a sudden memory. "Oh... I'm sorry. You wanted to wait, didn't you?" She held a hand to her mouth, guiltily.
"Well, yes," Ben admitted.
"It's OK, though." Ray put in hastily. "Don't worry about it. Makes it easier to prepare, now that we know." His grip on Ben's hand had tightened, and they both looked a little shellshocked.
"Remember it's not 100 percent sure... sometimes boys this age are a little shy. So you might want to hold off a bit before you paint everything pink."
"But you're fairly certain?" Ben seemed to have recovered his composure.
"Pretty much. I'm sorry I ruined the surprise." She radiated genuine remorse.
"You didn't ruin it. You just pushed it up a little." Ray assured her.
"Actually, I believe it's more of a surprise this way, as we weren't expecting it," Ben added.
She smiled slightly. "I guess so. Well, let me get this out of your way and let you clean up a bit, and then we're all done except for the blood and urine samples."
The rest of the examination passed rather quickly, and soon they found themselves outside the clinic, alone together with their revelation.
*****
"So." Ray began, as they pulled out of the parking lot.
"So." Ben responded. Silence descended.
"A girl," said Ben finally.
"Yep." Ray answered.
"Well, I for one am glad," Ben said positively, his voice unnaturally loud in the wake of another uncomfortable pause.
"You're glad? Benny, you're nuts! What do two guys know about raising a girl? I mean, a boy, sure, same parts, same problems--"
"Now, Ray, that is an unfair generalization. Every child is unique, and one can no more assume that a male child would be interested in... in basketball, or cars, or hunting, than we can assume that our daughter will be interested in dolls and makeup. The only thing a parent can do is attempt to lose all preconceptions and treat the child as an individual. Therefore, raising a daughter should be no more of a challenge than raising a son. In fact, it might conceivably be easier, as we are already aware of our, ah, lack of expertise, and therefore any difficulties will be expected rather than otherwise. I am looking forward to the challenge."
"This from the man who told his own sister not to call him if she had any problems of a 'feminine nature'?
"Well, that's hardly... how did you know about that?" Ben turned in his seat and gave Ray a puzzled look.
"Maggie told me last time we were up there. Remember, you had that Mountie-meeting, and while you were in with the Superintendent she and I traded stories about ya. She thought it was cute." Ben smiled wryly, and Ray continued. "You're right, though, it might actually not be too bad. I mean, we oughta be experts when it comes to guy problems, right?"
Ben laughed and settled back into his seat. "Right."
~~~January 5, 2004~~~
"So, Benny," Ray said as he sank into a chair a few nights later. "Now that we know, you wanna talk about names?"
Ben placed the last plate in the rack, hung up the dishtowel, and took the facing chair. "Names," he echoed. "I don't know, Ray. We definitely decided against naming her after one of our mothers, correct?"
Ray nodded. "I think so. Unless you wanna change your mind, Caroline Vecchio Fraser sounds pretty nice."
"Ray, about the last name--"
"Oh, come on, Benny, we settled this. Our daughter has to be either a Vecchio or a Fraser. Frannie's kids are all hyphenated with Vecchio-Parker, so my name's already being carried on, for what that's worth. You, my love, are the last of the legendary Frasers--" Ben blushed at that "and it's only fair. Besides, which... oh, what's the word, name, family, background..."
"Lineage?" Ben supplied helpfully.
"Yeah, that's it. Which lineage would you rather identify yourself with, the one that gave the world the most famous Mounties since Dudley Do-Right, or your average Chicago immigrant family with more skeletons in the closet than they've got at the clinic?"
"Now, Ray, that is simply not true. Granted, my father was a great police officer, and I seem to have attracted my own share of, ah, recognition" he studiously ignored Ray's disbelieving snort "but my family has its share of faults, and even a few skeletons. Every family does. Your father may not have been everything you hoped for, but neither was mine, and look at your mother. She has raised three beautiful children who love her and who now have families of their own, and she is helping to raise nine grandchildren-- ten, soon," he added, touching the growing bulge in his stomach. "She accepted our relationship graciously and offered her support, even though it went against everything she had been taught to believe, and her acceptance of our current, somewhat unusual, situation, has been far beyond anything that could possibly be expected. My mother died when I was six."
"All right," Ray conceded. "You've got a point. Ma's pretty good."
"And Ray," he waited until Ray turned to him, "you're a Vecchio. And you are one of the finest men I have ever known, a man whom I have been proud to call my partner for the last ten years, and whom I hope to spend the rest of my life with. Any child would be proud to carry your name."
"Aww, Benny, don't go gettin' all mushy on me," Ray protested, smiling.
"Blame it on the hormones. But I meant what I said."
"I know. Thanks." Changing tone, he continued. "But I'm still not backing down on this one. Our daughter is a Fraser until she changes it herself."
"All right. But in that case, we can't name her Caroline. I want you to pick her first name."
"I picked her last name."
Ben laughed. "True enough. All right, then, we pick her first name together. Do you have any preferences?"
"Where's that book my sister gave you for Christmas?"
"Which one? Maria and Francesca each gave me one."
"You're kidding. The same book?"
"No, the books had different titles. However, as name books, they are substantially alike."
"Jeez, and you claim my family's not pathetic."
"Ray..."
"Right, right. Anyway, where'd ya put 'em?" Ray asked, getting up.
Ben followed. "On the second shelf." Going to the bookcase that stood beside the bed, he selected two small volumes and tossed one to Ray, who caught it and flopped onto the bed.
Opening the book at random, he began to read aloud. "David, Davin, Davis, Dean, Dearborn...Delbert?" He looked up. "Who the hell is gonna name their kid Delbert? And how come there's no girls' names in here?"
"It's separated into two sections, Ray."
"Oh." Ray flipped a few pages back. "Hey, you know what Benton means? 'From the bent-grass farm.' I always knew your family had no sense when it came to names."
Ben smiled and 'hmph'd tolerantly in response, turning pages in his own book. "Ah, here we are. Raymond: from the Old German, meaning 'mighty or wise protector.' It suits you, Ray."
Ray tried not to blush, instead deflecting the conversation. "Hey, Benny, I never thought I'd see the day. Benton Fraser having to actually look up some esoteric fact."
"Now, Ray..."
Ray grinned at him and rolled over to drop a kiss on his cheek, then turned back to his book. "Hey, look, 'Fraser's in here. 'Strawberry.' No wonder your family's all in the Mounties. You have a genetic destiny with those red tunics."
"Oh, then I suppose we'll have to move to Canada. We can't deny our daughter her 'genetic destiny.'" Ben joked.
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. First thing in the morning I'll call for tickets." Suddenly growing serious, Ray asked, "You ever think about it, Benny? Going back to Canada?"
"Occasionally. I've sometimes thought that I'd like to retire there, possibly return to my father's cabin. I think, though, that in reality I would end up coming back here, even if you were willing to stay there with me. My life is here nowyou're here, and you belong here. You don't have to tell me that you would come with me if I asked, Ray," he said, raising a hand to forestall the protest he could see on Ray's face. "I know that you would, and I can't tell you how much that means to me. But your life is here. And so is mine, now. You are here, yourourfamily is here, my work is here, my friends are here... Canada really has very little left for me now, nothing but memories. Most of them sad."
Ray was silent for a moment, unable to find the words with which to reply. Then, "Wow. I dunno what the doctor put in those drugs of yours, but you oughta take it more often. You never said that before."
Ben shrugged. "You never asked."
"Oh." After a minute, he changed the subject. "So. Names."
"Yes." Ben reached for the pad of paper and pens they kept next to the telephone. Tearing off a sheet for himself, he handed the pad and one of the pens to Ray. "I propose that we each make a list of the names that we like, and we can compare later."
"All right," Ray agreed, and the search was on.
*****
"Amelia? Benny, you've *got* to be kidding."
"What's wrong with Amelia? Amelia Earhart. She was a famous aviator, and a very courageous woman. I believe that a girl should have a good, strong name to live up to."
"Yes, I agree with that... but, Benny... *Amelia*?!"
Ben looked slightly hurt. "It doesn't have to be Amelia. There are plenty of other names on my list."
Ray sighed exaggeratedly and looked down at the slip of paper in his hand. "All right, let's see. Ariel. I am not naming my daughter after a mermaid in an old Disney movie."
"No, no, Ray. Ariel was a spirit in Shakespeare's play 'The Tempest.' It's also a unisex name, so in the unlikely event that our child is a boy..."
"No." Ray vetoed the idea emphatically. "No way."
"Well, what do you suggest?"
"Here." He handed over his list with elaborate casualness, but his eyes betrayed his anxiety as Ben scanned his choices.
"Anne." Ben quirked an eyebrow. "That's a nice name." A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, and Ray looked away.
"Hey, I liked it before I met her, OK?"
"All right, Ray." Ben answered mildly. "Alessandra. That's pretty. Katrina, Marina, Silvina. I don't know, Ray. They're all nice, but none of them seems quite... I don't know, they just don't seem to fit."
Ray shrugged and took back his list. "So we'll keep looking."
"How about a name that means something? You don't seem to like my historical names, but I'd like a name that has something behind it."
"Sure. Tell you what, how about instead of each of us making up a list and then trading, we have one list and we both add to it whenever we find a name we like? And if one of us doesn't like a name on the list, we can cross it off, no questions asked?"
"And then we can choose a name together from the names left on the list," Ben finished, nodding slowly. "Sounds like a plan."
As the days passed, the list became a game. Knowing Ray's worry that he would pick something odd and 'embarrassing to shout across a playground,' Ben wrote down "Cleopatra." Ray, realizing he was being teased, pretended to take the nomination seriously and left it there. A few days later, Ben picked up the notepad to find, in Ray's neat script, "Decima" with the note "Maybe later?" Puzzled, he looked it up in the name book, and found "Decima-- Latin: The Tenth Daughter." He smiled and kept reading. The next time Ray checked the list, Decima had been crossed out and under it was written "Semele." Flipping to the S's, he read, "Once, a single time." He laughed and blacked out both names.
Amidst the gags, a serious list was forming. Ann made a second appearance, this time without the 'e,' in Ben's upright lettering. Ray added Elisabeth, and started to write in Elaine but then noticed that it was already there. Jean stayed, but Ben vetoed Michelle.
"It's a nice name, Ray, but I knew a Michelle once, and she was just, I don't know, a little... odd. I don't think I could name my daughter that." Ray agreed, the name was crossed off, and the list continued.
~~~February 14, 2004~~~
"Hey, Benny, what's all this?" Ray asked, coming into the kitchen where Ben was sitting at the table, chopping celery. He lifted the lid of a pot that was simmering on the stove. "Smells great. But I thought we always went out for Valentine's Day?"
"Ray, do I look like I can walk into a fancy restaurant?"
Ray looked his partner over anxiously. "You're all right, aren't you? What's the matter? Do I need to call the doctor?"
"Oh, no, Ray," Ben answered irritably. "I'm fine. But look at me." He pushed his chair back and held out his hands, opening himself up for Ray's inspection.
Ray looked. His eyes took in the sock-clad feet, the Chicago PD sweat pants that alternated with the grey RCMP pair to form Ben's entire trouser repertoire lately, and the t-shirt that rode up slightly over the firm roundness of his belly, partially covered by a flannel shirt that hung open in the front and had the sleeves rolled up above the elbows. Then they returned to the beloved face with its pregnant glow of health. "You're beautiful," he said, simply and sincerely.
Ben smiled wryly. "Thank you kindly, but I don't believe the 'barefoot and knocked out' style is currently in fashion at Atlanta's upscale dining establishments."
"Up, Benny, knocked up." Ray corrected, trying to contain his laughter. "And I'm sure we can find something you can wear. Let's check the closet."
"Now, Ray"
Ray stopped and spun on his heel in the doorway. "Oh, come on, Benny. It's a tradition. We've gone out together for Valentine's Day every year since the first one, when we were two bachelors too wrapped up in our work to get a date."
"Well..." Ben stood up carefully, pressing a hand to his lower back, and followed reluctantly. Ray was already deep in the closet when he reached the bedroom, and he sat heavily on the end of the bed to wait.
Ray emerged a few moments later, his arms full of clothes which he deposited on the bed. He began rooting through the pile. "Ok... these slacks are pretty low-slung, so you might be able to buckle 'em under the bulge. And now... here, try this shirt of mine. It's meant to be worn untucked."
"All right." Ben stood and took the clothes. "I'll be back in a minute." He disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door firmly.
Ray stared after him, then followed. "Benny?" He tapped on the door. "What's wrong?"
There were a few muffled thumping noises, and then Ben opened the door and stuck his head out. "Nothing's wrong," he said innocently. "Why do you ask?"
"You're changing in the bathroom. You never used to be shy before, Benny. And now that I think about it, I don't think I've seen you less than fully clothed since we got back from Chicago. You don't snuggle up to me in bed like you used to, either. So what gives? Is this something else with the hormones again?"
"Hormones?" Ben appeared to be considering the question. "In a manner of speaking, yes..." he said tentatively.
"In a manner of...?" Ray repeated, glancing down at what was visible of Ben's body through the slight opening. Ben shifted abruptly to the side, further behind the door.
"C'mon, Benny. What're you hiding?"
Ben opened the door and stepped out, hastily buttoning the long silk shirt. He dropped his hands to his sides. "Nothing. How do I look?"
Ray looked him over with the critical eye of someone who knows his clothes. "Not bad. Why are you standing like that?"
"Like what?"
"Sort of hunched over. Where's that perfect Mountie posture I married you for?"
"Ray, we're not--"
"I know, I know. Figure of speech. And you know I would if it were legal."
"Yes, Ray." Ben smiled, a little sadly, and Ray returned it.
"But you're not getting out of this. Stand up straight. I wanna know what you're so anxious to keep me from seeing."
"Ray..." It was almost a whine.
"*Benny.*"
Ben gave in at last and straightened his shoulders. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, waiting for what he knew was coming. It came, after an uncomfortable silence.
"Benny," Ray's voice sounded odd, "take off that shirt."
Ben squeezed his eyes shut briefly and then did so, without a word. Ray stared. He made a small, choked noise.
"Benny... you have... you have..."
"Breasts."
"Breasts! You have breasts!"
"Yes, Ray, I have breasts." Now that the truth was out, Ben just sounded tired.
"Ho... how...?"
"From the estrogen. It affects my body much as if--"
"No, I mean, how long? When did this start?"
Ben collapsed back onto the end of the bed, not bothering to rebutton the shirt. "They've been sensitive for a long time. I told you about that. About the time we returned to Atlanta, I noticed that the whole area was quite tender, and the swelling started a week or two after that. I knew I'd have to tell you about it eventually, I just..." He lapsed into a moody silence.
Ray sank down beside him. "Does Dr. Young know about this?"
Ben shook his head. "No. We've only had two appointments so far when it might have been noticeable, this morning and the last time, and I've been careful. If she did notice, she didn't say anything. She was probably expecting something like this anyway; it *was* listed as one of the possible risks when we applied, remember."
Ray ran a hand over his head, stopping to rub at the back of his neck. "Yeah. I guess it's just one more of the million and one things I should have been expecting when we went into this that still managed to take me by surprise."
"Ray? You don't regret the pregnancy?" Ben's voice was sharp with sudden fear.
"I dunno, Benny. If you had known, back when this all started, how it was going to be, would you have decided differently?"
"No! Ray, this body has been stabbed, shot, beaten, bruised, lacerated, and broken in hundreds of ways, trying to save lives. Now, it has a chance to bring a brand new life into the world, a life that you and I created. I would put up with more than morning sickness and secondary female sex characteristics for that. Wouldn't you?"
"Yeah, Benny. I guess I would." He did his best to smile, but Ben knew the difference.
"Ray?"
"Oh, God, I don't know. It's just... this whole thing is so weird. Before I met you, I never even dreamed of anything like this. Not even when I went to bed after eating Frannie's zabaglione."
"And?" Ben took one of the hands that was still half-hiding Ray's face and wrapped it in his own.
"And I guess it's partly my Catholic upbringing rising up to bite me in the butt. Getting divorced from Ange used to be the biggest deal of my life. But then you came to town, and, after thirty-four years, I was suddenly gay. I mean, yeah, I was gay before, but I didn't have to admit it until I met you. Then I did meet you, and I fell in love with you, and I dealt with it. And I got used to the idea that I was never gonna have kids, at least not unless we adopted, and then suddenly we can have kids and next thing I know you're pregnant and you've got morning sickness and you've got breasts, and two or three months from now we're gonna have a newborn baby, and it's like all my life I've been walking along, on the level, and then I stepped onto a slide ten years ago and I've been pickin' up speed ever since."
"Ray, breathe." Ben stared at his partner, who seemed dangerously close to a breakdown. "All those things you mentionedwould you rather you hadn't met me? That we hadn't--"
"No, Benny, no! I love you, and I love that you love me and I love that we're having a baby together. It's just that it's all happening so fast. I need some time to adjust to it all, and I'm just not gonna get that, am I? Your breasts, they're not that big a deal, I mean, if that was all it was I'd think it was funny. It's just this on top of that on top of the other, and I--"
"They're my breasts, Ray," Ben interrupted mildly. "How do you think I feel?"
"See, that's what gets me. How can you be so calm about all this? I mean, this is hard enough for me just watching, but if I were you and it was my body, I'd be going crazy. Doesn't it bother you at all?"
"Well, I admit that some parts of it have been a little... disturbing, sometimes even unpleasant. But we've gotten through them all so far, and we're doing just fine. And three months from now, we'll have a brand new baby girl, and this will all be over. Just... keep your eyes on the goal, Ray."
"Yeah," Ray sighed. "Yeah. I guess you're right." Ben put an arm around him, and he leaned into the broad chest. "You ever wanna freeze time, Benny? Wish everything would just hold still long enough for you to catch your breath?"
Ben didn't answer in words, just kissed the top of the bald head and held him close. Slowly the tension ebbed away from the slim body as it melded into his. Suddenly, just when it seemed as though everything was going to be all right, Ray's shoulders began to shake. Ben clutched him harder. "Ray? What's wrong? Are you all right?"
Ray raised his head, revealing eyes that were bright with laughter instead of the expected tears. "I'm fine. It's just..." he ran the side of a finger gently up the underside of one rounded bosom. "I've got these staring me in the face."
"Does that bother you?"
"No, not really. Now that I'm getting used to the idea. I guess... I just never thought I'd see them again. And I *definitely* never expected to see them on *you.*"
"So it doesn't bother you?"
"Nah. It was just the shock. You shouldn'tve waited until now to spring this on me, Benny. If I'd seen 'em all along, I think it would've been OK."
"I'm sorry, Ray. Next time I develop breasts, I will let you know immediately."
"You do that." They smiled at each other.
Suddenly Ben sat up, slipped the shirt from his shoulders, and posed. "So, what do you think? Do I look like your ideal woman?"
"Benny, man or woman, you *are* my ideal." He kissed him to emphasize the point. As one hand rose to cup the smooth roundness, Ben inhaled sharply, and his lips clung to Ray's more fiercely. "Hmmm..." This was a reaction worth investigating... he kneaded the breast experimentally. Ben moaned, deep in his throat, and pressed forward. The silk shirt was discarded altogether as they moved up the bed. Ray's was on its way to join it when Ben's hands suddenly stilled.
"Ray. Ray." Ray looked up from his exploration of Ben's new development. "Do you smell someth--" Ben suddenly shot off the bed and disappeared into the kitchen, from which a clattering noise and the sound of running water came almost immediately. Ray blinked, realized what was happening, and followed almost as quickly. He found Ben standing by the sink, enveloped in a cloud of steam and the acrid stench of burning. He turned to Ray mournfully.
"The soup... I left it on the stove... it boiled dry and... burned." He looked absolutely heartbroken, and Ray's own feelings were immediately swallowed up in the automatic need to comfort and protect.
"Benny, hey. It's OK. Don't--"
"I can't go out with you, and I wanted to make something special, and I...I..." he stared disconsolately at the sink, and then back at Ray. "I'm sorry..."
Ray turned off the water and drew Ben gently away from the still-smoking pot. "Don't worry about it. We can do something else. I'll go pick something up, bring it back here. We don't have to go out. It'll be just the three of us."
Ben smiled slightly and allowed himself to be led. "Can we have Chinese?" he asked hopefully.
"Sure. I'll go out and pick it up. You put on something comfortable and decide where you want to eat. The usual OK?"
Ben considered the question. "How about mushroom chicken instead of General Tsao's? And maybe broccoli beef?"
"Whatever you want. I'll be back in a flash."
"Well, actually, Ray, in light of the fact that tonight *is* Valentine's day, the restaurant is likely to be quite full and it might take rather longer than usual."
Ray smiled and blew him a kiss from the doorway. "I'll tell 'em to put on a rush."
*****
The woman who took his order at the restaurant told Ray that he would have to wait about an hour for the food to be ready, and if he liked he could wait in one of the chairs in the entry area. She was very sorry, but all the booths were full. Would he like a magazine, she asked solicitously, producing one from beneath the register.
He accepted with a sigh, sat down, and idly flipped a few pages, only to discover that the magazine was written in Chinese. The absurdity of the whole night struck home, and he laughed out loud.
The receptionist was immediately at his side, inquiring anxiously whether he was all right. He smiled at her. "Yeah. Look, I'm gonna go for a walk. I'll be back in about forty-five minutes to pick up the food, OK? Thanks for the magazine."
Out in the cool February evening air once again, Ray pondered the strangeness than had become his life. Thinking of the magazine, he wondered if Ben would teach their daughter to speak Cantonese, or any of the other assorted languages he spoke. Ben had tried to teach him once, but he'd never gotten much beyond "hello," "goodbye," "I love you," and "where is the bathroom?"the four phrases they'd decided were necessary for survival in any foreign country. He'd considered memorizing the words for "coffee" in each language, but general consensus went against it when they decided that, outside of Italy, and possibly Brazil, foreign coffee wasn't worth asking for.
His thoughts led him down the sidewalks of midtown Atlanta, in and out of the orange glow of streetlights and through the lacy shadows of the still-bare trees in their wire cages. Occasionally he passed couples on their way from cars to restaurants, or out walking like himself, strolling after dinner or passing time waiting for a reservation. As he found himself almost back at the door of the Chinese place with fifteen minutes to spare, he looked around and spotted a florist's shop with the light still on. He wandered in, and after a few minutes came back out with a single, Mountie-red rose.
He returned to his chair in the entryway of the restaurant and passed a further twenty minutes with the Chinese magazine, while the receptionist hovered over him between customers. Just as he was trying to decide whether his rear was going to be permanently molded into the shape of the seat, or if he was going to leave the imprint of his rear in the seat for posterity in a bizarre kind of "Kilroy was here," a kitchen boy appeared with a big paper bag, the receptionist shoved in a handful of at least six fortune cookies, and he was able to go home.
The blinds were still open in the window of the small apartment when he reached it, and Ray's eye was caught by the tableau inside. Ben lay half-curled on the bed, his arms cradling the round bulge of his unborn child. His lips were moving as he glanced from her to the television screen, which was showing a special on bears. Ray realized, after a moment, that he was discussing the show with her. Feeling as though he was intruding upon a private moment, he was careful to make a lot of noise with his keys as he opened the door.
Ben met him a few steps inside the apartment. "Don't take your coat off, Ray. I thought we could eat up on the roof."
"The roof? Benny, it's freezing up there."
"Oh, I hardly think so, Ray. And besides, the stars are much more romantic than this apartment. Let's just try it. If we get too cold, we can come in."
"Oh, all right. Lead on."
Ben led him back out into the common hallway and bounded up the stairs, waiting for him at the first landing. "Would you like some help with that?" he asked, as Ray followed more slowly with the bag.
"I got it."
"You're sure?"
"Yeah. Come on." He reached the landing and continued on up the next flight, Ben at his heels. Two flights later, he opened the door to the rooftop and stopped dead.
The roof of their apartment building was flat, and was set up with lighting and two picnic tables as an outdoor common area for the tenants. It had been mostly taken over by those who needed a place to smoke, and Ray was expecting the usual litter of cigarette butts and ashtrays. Instead, the whole area had been swept clean, and the ashtrays moved to one of the tables. The other was covered with a striped cloth which, upon closer inspection, proved to be a Hudson blanket. A candle stood waiting in a hurricane glass next to a box of matches, and a bud vase held a single white rose, tipped with pink. A bottle of sparkling cider and two glasses were there also.
"You did all this?"
"Do you like it?"
"I love it. And you." He half-turned in the doorway and kissed Ben awkwardly on the cheek, then went to the table and set down the bag. He produced his own red rose and handed it to Ben. "Happy Valentine's Day."
"Thank you kindly," he answered shyly, and added it to the vase. The bag was unloaded and they were about to sit down when he realized what was missing. "I forgot the plates. I can run down and--"
"No, no, sit down. It tastes better straight out of the carton anyway."
So they spent that Valentine's dinner looking out over the city, Ray in his overcoat and Ben in shirt sleeves, eating Chinese food straight from the box and drinking cider.
"You're sure you're not cold?" Ray asked, for the sixth time.
"On the contrary, I feel quite warm."
"You running a fever?"
Ben applied the inside of his wrist to his own forehead briefly. "Nope. 37 degrees Celsius precisely."
Ray shook his head in disbelief. "Well, as long as you're comfortable."
Eventually the time came to go inside, and they cleared away the remains of the meal. Ben picked up the roses, the half-emptied bottle and glasses, and the hurricane lamp and packed them into a canvas bag that had been waiting under the table. He folded the blanket, but Ray insisted on carrying it down.
"You're not supposed to exert yourself, remember? Let me do it."
"Ray, I carried it up here. It's not exertion. I feel fine. I feel better than fine. Don't worry so much."
"Okay... but if you start to get out of breatheven a littleyou tell me and let me carry everything, got it?"
"Understood, Ray."
As promised, Ben was not even breathing hard when they reached the bottom of the stairs, but Ray saw him wince slightly as they laid their assorted burdens on the kitchen table. He was instantly on full alert. "Are you all right?"
"Fine, Ray." Ben tried to smile as he rubbed subtly at his stomach.
"You're sure?"
"Positive. It's just a slight muscle cramp. It's gone now. I'm fine."
"Completely gone?"
"Completely and utterly gone. Absolutely, totally, entirely swept out of existence."
"If it comes back..."
"If it comes back, I will tell you."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"I'm being silly, aren't I?"
"Just a little, yes."
"Am I bothering you?"
"No, Ray, I know that you are simply worried about me and about our child, and I appreciate your concern." He paused. "I must admit, however, that at times..."
"Got it. I'll try not to fuss so much."
"I'll let you know if you need to." Ben gave him a swift kiss on his way to the fridge with the leftovers, sneaking a final mushroom with his fingers before closing the door. "Everything will be fine. You'll see."
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