There was nothing more satisfying than the clink of handcuffs around a perp's wrists or the clang of the holding cell's door as it locked for the night. As much as Ray had complained about his job over the years, he had missed it far more than he'd realized on the Island. He'd now officially been Detective First Grade Raymond Vecchio for a little under two weeks and he already had two arrests under his belt. Joint arrests, on the same day for the same crime, but that didn't matter. It was quantity, not quality that mattered right now. Taking bad guys off the street, putting them away and heading home feeling like he'd done a good day's work, that he'd made the city a better place.

Today, home had had to wait for...Ray squinted at his watch as he fumbled with his door key. Four--what? Four hours. How was it nearly midnight already? He was fairly sure, even after a few drinks, that he'd clocked off work at 7pm, so how could it possibly be nearly the next day? Unconvinced of his watch's accuracy, he dug his cell phone out of his pocket, giving it a shake when a black screen gaped up at him. No battery.

The lock gave way with a click and Ray spent a few moments attempting to get the key out of it before stepping over the threshold with a grateful sigh. There was a special feeling that came with knowing he'd earned good money today, that he was providing for his family, for Asher's kids. Kids he hadn't seen since sometime yesterday morning because they'd already been in bed by the time he'd gotten home last night and he was out the door before they'd woken this morning. Work was work though. It put food on the table, clothes on their backs and maybe one or two drinks in Ray's hand tonight. Three max.

Two criminals behind bars, three or four drinks in him and a wage that would hit his bank account any day now. Nearly midnight or not, today really was a great day.

 
Even if Asher didn't realise it, Ray was just trying to help. As much as he disliked him smoking, Ray hated seeing him so stressed and unsettled all the time even more. So while he couldn't in good conscience encourage Asher to puff his merry way to cancer town, he was willing to try other options.

Even if one of those options involved him getting repeatedly hit in the head.

"Rules. Number one, nothing below the belt." Ray ducked under the ropes and into the ring. "Nothing unpleasant anyway. Rule number two, I'm walkin' outta here with all of my teeth still inside my mouth, okay? And number three," he bashed his boxing gloves against his skull, "no making fun of my head guard."

It was like waking up from a bad dream, right where they had begun, everyone standing in the backroom like all they had done was blinked. People scattered in their own directions and Ray was left holding Daniel's hand, defensive at every sound, suspicious beyond belief.

He muttered to Daniel to stay close but when he looked down, he saw watery eyes looking back up at him, tired and scared, like they had been for God only knew how long. So Ray carried him instead, out of the arcade and into the light of a setting sun. Just because it looked like home - as much as it could in the month of December - didn't mean it was home.

Instinct pointed them in the direction of the Compound. His bicep ached, bruised but the cut was healing, so he shifted Daniel over to this other side, reaching for the gun tucked at the back of his belt with his free hand. A gun he hoped to hell would work here if needed. He held it up in front of them as he moved, the exertion of a stance he knew so well evident on his face.

 
What was that saying?

Beggars couldn't be choosers.

India had never been at the top of Ray's list of vacation hotspots but it wasn't like there was a brochure full of options for where they could go that year. He'd heard on the grapevine that it wasn't exactly a luxurious place but after bumping back down to reality after the disappearance of the mist, anywhere that was away was a step up in Ray's book.

With hindsight, maybe two giant suitcases and a bag slung across his chest wasn't the best plan. Especially not when he'd partnered himself with the least helpful or willing man on the planet. Never one to travel light though, there were very noticeable drag marks left in his wake as he ploughed ahead over the causeway and onto the second island.

"Thanks again, by the way," Ray drawled sarcastically for the third or fourth time. "For all of your help. Really."

Had Ray not spent so much time packing and repacking, maybe they would have reached their destination before nightfall.

The facts were these:

Fraser wasn’t currently in need of the uniform.

It was Asher’s birthday.

Ray wanted brownie points. And sex.

The solution had been simple really. Ray tried not to think of it as taking advantage of his best friend’s situation. In fact, he could even argue that it was Fraser who had suggested the idea in the first place. When Ray had come across mini-Benny, he’d never intended to steal borrow his Mountie uniform but after their encounter, Ray just couldn’t shake the memory of those immortal words:

”I look like a Mountie to you?”

Well, now it seemed like Ray did. Taking one final glance in the mirror before leaving, he adjusted the Stetson, so that it sat straight, and smoothed down the lanyard. It wasn’t the first time he’d worn the outfit but he still wasn’t exactly comfortable in it. If all went well though, he wouldn’t have to stay in it very long.

Asher was a pretty simple guy, really. Not in the slow-minded way but in the easy-to-please way. Sometimes Ray forgot that. He could definitely have been accused of trying too hard in the past. Unless he was pissed off or disappointed, Asher didn’t really show any feelings, so Ray often found himself over-compensating just to get a reaction from him. Usually, it ended up being the wrong one…

Today, though, Ray was all about simplicity and – forgive the sap – making Asher happy. If he couldn’t do it on his birthday, when could he?

So there Ray was outside, dressed head-to-toe in Canada, with a bucket of ice on the kitchen counter, drinks cooling inside it. There was a chocolate cupcake baked by his own fair hand, unlit candle sticking out the top, and a Zippo resting beside it.

No fuss. No drama. Definitely no old man jokes. What more could Asher want?

 
No matter how much Ray wanted it to, the pillow he held over his face didn't put him out of his misery. It was still damp from his drool, a sticky reminder of the state he was in when he'd finally climbed into bed the night before. Ray wasn't a big drinker and he hadn't set out to get drunk but when he had seen Del, he'd had one, then another, to steel himself before approaching. Somewhere along the line though, two had become seven and the rest was history.

As if his pounding head wasn't bad enough, Ray had to suffer with the clearest memory of his behavior at the party. Wasn't getting drunk off his ass supposed to come with the promise of blissful ignorance the next morning?

"Kill me now," he groaned, squashing the pillow against his face one last time before chucking it out of the bed in frustration. No amount of pain relief was going to let him open his eyes without weeping in agony.

 
When the Mountie had said he was going, Ray found it even harder to find an excuse not to, which was stupid because all he really wanted to do was go. Not for the chocolate or the Easter eggs or the promise of enough sweet food for him to eat his feelings for a month, but simply because he knew Asher would be there. They'd had arguments before that lasted an hour, a day, maybe even a couple days but none of those had involved his kids. More than a few had revolved around Danica before they'd eventually gotten together but his children were different.

It was the first time Ray was genuinely worried that he'd blown it, which was why he was so reluctant to attend. Had he indulged his selfishness and insensitivity during an argument about absolutely anything else, he didn't think he'd be skulking around the edges of a slowly scattering gathering right now. He and Asher would've hashed it out, maybe lashed out, and moved on. Together. But those kind of qualities coming through when it was never about Ray in the first place? That was so much worse. It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to realize he'd made it all about him instead of concentrating on a little boy and a concerned father who had needed his help. Asher had been - still was, for all he knew - between a rock and a hard place, between his sister and his son, and Ray had turned his back and walked away.

Which was exactly the kind of reaction he was expecting to receive when he looked over through a hooded gaze, waiting for Asher to be alone. He'd already apologised for laughing, thinking that was all he was guilty of. Nervousness, he'd said. The absurdity of the situation. But laughing had just been the tip of the iceberg and it had taken many long, lonely nights in a too-big and too-empty bed for him to see it.

Dropping the piece of straw he'd been fiddling with - Asher hated insecurity - he squared his shoulders just a little and moved over.

"D'you have a minute?"

The clothes he had dragged on didn't fit right. The shirt pulled over his shoulders, trousers were a little tight around the waist, but they were quality, slick and sharp, so he figured they had to be his.

The room was a mess. Mattress tossed off the bed base, drawers hanging open, side tables upturned. He was searching, frantically. He didn't know what he was looking for; clues, he guessed. When he'd woken up in a strange bed, in a strange wooden house, his first thought was that he'd been drugged. He always went on hunches, so he had run with the idea. Now he had a thousand and one questions and no answers, so he had to fill the blanks in himself. Just until the drugs wore off. Just until his brain kicked into gear.

A utility bill, an address book, something that would jog his memory, give him a name, at least. It felt like panic was his automatic go-to, so he was letting nature take its course, right until the frustration overwhelmed him and he held his head, trying to breath deeply.

There was a scratching at the door. A whine.

He tried to ignore it.

The clothes were definitely his. There were nothing but male clothes in the room, after all. A coupla nice watches. He had slipped one on to complete the look. The chain around his neck felt weird, as did the ring on his finger. Was this his place?

Scanning the room, he huffed out a heavy sigh, bending down to scoop up a suit jacket that had got caught in the cross-fire. He felt the material between his fingers. When he slipped it on, tried to make it comfortable across his too-broad shoulders, it felt familiar all of a sudden. It was a feeling he tried to hold onto. All of this had to be his, right?

Slipping unsteady hands into his pockets, he leaned against the nearest wall, tipping his head back and letting his eyes slide shut.

He cracked one open, just slightly. His hand slowly reappeared, a scrap of paper caught between thumb and forefinger. He brought it up to his face, studying it carefully. American Thread. Dry cleaners. A date stamp. A pick-up time. A name.

A Talos.

He got the same wash of feeling he'd gotten from the jacket. Familiarity. Something he was craving right now. This was him. A Talos.

The whining outside the door got louder, a faint annoyed growl ending each one. His mouth flattened into a line. There wasn't much he was sure of, but he did know A Talos wasn't a fan of stray dogs.

Sometimes, just sometimes, there were mornings when waking up to the sound of the ocean seemed almost normal. Today was one of those days and Ray found his frownline softening and his mouth curving up before he'd even opened his eyes. He knew Asher was there without needing to look and so he let himself lay quietly for a little while longer, still being lulled by the pull of sleep.

It was only natural that his mind would wonder back to the night before. He could still feel the satiation deep in his bones and it didn't exactly make him eager to get up. A mixture of charm and bribery might get Asher to agree to round two and Ray was pretty sure Fraser could handle the morning patrol on his own. Walking around in a circle for two hours was hardly demanding.

Resisting sleep seemed a bit stupid if only one of them was awake, so he rolled over and pushed himself toward Asher. If he woke up too, then the decision was made for him and Ray could start to switch on the charm. If he continued to sleep, then Ray would have no qualms about rejoining him.

Waking up next to Asher didn't quite feel normal yet, but it still managed to put a smile on his face just the same.

In all his time on the island, this was the first that Ray had stood within the orchard overlooking the garden. He'd needed a quiet place to think, where he wouldn't risk questions coming at him left, right and centre. After badgering Danica for twenty minutes in the morning, he'd made the nasty discovery that he too was a pawn in the island's antics today. The trees provided the kind of cover he needed.

Not that he was hiding. He wasn't the one that had been hiding anything.

Groaning when he realised he was still thinking about it, Ray tipped his head back and took a deep breath. Overhanging leaves filled his vision, all fresh and bursting with color. It was pretty depressing, considering how he was feeling inside.

Asher had bitten Stephen and he'd shot a bear. The words had come out of his own mouth. And still he'd lied about Rorshach, despite those confessions. Granted, Ray and he hadn't been on the best of terms back then, but he had had every opportunity to come clean since.

Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised. Maybe deep down he'd known all along and had decided it wasn't a big enough deal to stop him getting closer to Asher. If that was the case, then it was all on Ray.

Dropping his head, he walked aimlessly amongst the trees towards the pathway. He'd spent most of his life relying on his hunches but it had only taken one man, this man, to stop him doing what he did best. Instinct was key to avoiding mistakes but Ray had stopped listening to his. He'd thought he'd been following it when he'd brushed aside his uncertainties and let himself fall for Asher but perhaps he'd hadn't. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe.

"Well, they are my best feature," Ray replied in the slickest voice he could manage. Removing Asher's hand from his pants, he slid past him and down the rest of the stairs ahead of him, reaching the bottom as quietly as possible.

"Hello?" He called out after a beat, pricking his ears and waiting for a reply. He raised his voice. "Hello? Anybody?" Unless they were passed out in the shower or slumped against a washing machine, it looked like they were alone.

The basement dorm room was the last place to check and Ray couldn't help it when he approached like a cop, pressing his back to the wall outside before ducking inside and scanning the place.

Just as empty.


[from here]

Ray waved the boar meat with a bit more vigor.

"Come on," he hissed, flapping his other hand to get the dog moving. "You know you want this. Come on now."

And still the damn dog wouldn't get off the boat. It was a rottweiler for God's sake and it was nearly whimpering as it faced the leap between the boat and the dock.

"If you get off in five seconds, I'll give you twenty bucks."

Huh. It seemed dogs and children weren't all that different after all.

Chucking the meat in the opposite direction and making sure Onyx followed it, Ray brushed his hands together and turned back to the boat. He'd seen Asher board it at least half an hour before, if not more, and since then he'd watched it for signs of life. While hiding in the bushes with boar meat.

A steakout, if you will.

Ray wasn't quite sure where the line fell between shadowing in a professional capacity and stalking in a personal capacity but he was fairly sure he was walking that line right about now. Climbing onto the boat with a little more confidence than last time, he untied the ropes and cast them out to sea, quietly creeping over the deck on his toes. The natural creaking of the vessel was eerily familiar.

Ray was determined to think bad of Asher. Luckily for him, things kept popping up to help him on his way.

A doctor with a wound on his neck and a sister that pointed him towards the ex-vampire was more than enough for him to go on. Inquiries, he told himself, was all he was making but he was desperate for more. A conviction. If he could prove Asher was bad to the bone, then everything would be fine and Ray could stop fixating on him.

He hadn't been able to pin the shooting on Asher, despite the hunch he still felt in his gut, the one that said Asher was guilty. So this, he wasn't going to let go so easily. Scanning each room he entered, Ray hunted for him, more aware of the cuffs on his belt than he had been since he'd arrived on the Island.

"I can't believe I did that I can't believe I did that I can't believe!" Ray flapped his hands and high-tailed it out of the stable, hopping around in circles and visibly shuddering. "I can't believe I did that!"

There was a reason why horses weren't man's best friend and that reason was glaringly obvious to Ray. They stunk. And tried to kick him. And head-butt him whenever his back was turned.

Huffing out a deep breath, Ray pinched two fingers and pulled off his gloves, work done for the morning. He'd forgotten how sucky it was getting up early to tend to two spoiled sets of hooves, and he definitely hadn't appreciated the time in-between these stints enough, when he'd been able to sleep in and not smell of manure. He thanked God he lived alone, otherwise his roommates might have thought there was something wrong with his own bowels...

Tossing the gloves on the floor, Ray looked himself over, checking to make sure he wasn't too cruddy. He'd leave the saddling up and...whatever else needed to be done to Asher and spend the time psyching himself up instead. The faster he learned how to control those things, the less time he'd have to play care-giver.

"C'mooon," he called out, swinging his hands together and shaking out his legs, a clear sign of the nerves he was trying to disguise with over-confidence. "Don't bother with a seat, I'll do it bareback if I have to."

Ray had always been a fan of Valentine's Day - it was the best excuse to try and schmooze a woman without losing too much face. This year though, he hadn't really found himself in the schmoozing mood, so he'd just eaten candy hearts and slurped down coffee all day, pouring over the remaining reports he still had to catch up on and avoiding the scary little cherubs embarrassing people left, right and centre. Luckily, when he'd gotten his message, it had been received in the relative privacy if the IPD office. He had a fair idea who mighta sent it, even glanced around to see if he was right. No luck.

The next day didn't start much different, unless you counted the fact it began two hours earlier than normal due to a not-so-peaceful night's sleep. Ray had two things on his mind as he left his hut: coffee and doctors. Cooper wasn't expecting a visit but that was what made Ray hopeful - catch him off-guard and maybe there'd be something to spill. His hunch was still firmly hunched but he was no further forward in knowing what it was he was looking for. There was just something about the Talos siblings that simultaneously fascinated him and made him suspicious as all hell.

Slipping on sunglasses to shield his tired eyes from the bright light, he made his way to the Compound, caffeine-anticipation spurring him on. With one holiday out of the way and the winged Cupid guy having not caused too much trouble on the island, there was at least one thing for Ray to be thankful for today.