From: <MMayerMax@aol.com> To: <MRKS@onelist.com>Subject: [MRKS] FIC-"The Heavens Pour Out" - 1/1 Date:Sunday, December 19, 1999 4:04 PM

From: MMayerMax@aol.com

12/19/99 - Pairing - F/RK. Archive - KatherineF, please, toHexwood, if you have the time and the inclination. Rating -"NC-17". Category - Romance. Warning -Serious spoilersfor "Mountie on the Bounty" and "Call of theWild." Synopsis - Some of Fraser's thoughts about the eventsin the episodes mentioned above. Some of what happens afterwards.Feedback gratefully welcomed at <maxmayer2@JUNO.com> or onList. Dedicated to my fellow "due South" fans, whoalways want to know why. Me, too. And to PG and CKR, whosebrilliant performances as Benton Fraser and Ray Kowalski neverfail to inspire..... And to Carlos Santanos, the man and hismusic…. Thank you kindly, gentle men.

"The Heavens Pour Out" by MaxineMayer, 12/19/99

* * *

>From Santana's Album "Supernatural", the lyricsto "Love of My Life" -

"Where you are, that's where I wanna be, And through youreyes, all the things I wanna see, And in the night, you are mydream: You're everything to me….

"You're the love of my life and the breath in my prayers,Take my hand, lead me there…. What I need is you,here….

"I can't forget the taste of your mouth, >From yourlips all the heavens pour out…. I can't forget when we areone…. With you alone, I am free.

"Every day, every night, you alone…. You're the loveof my life. Every day, every night, you alone…. You're thelove of my life.

"We go dancing in the moonlight with the starlight inyour eyes, We go dancing till the sunrise - You and me, we'regonna dance, dance, dance…."

- written by Carlos Santana and Dave Matthews

* * *

Inside "Mountie on the Bounty" -

* * *

Over and over, Ray repeats it - I don't understand, I don'tunderstand. Coupled with - I don't want to hear….

I - I, Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, don'tunderstand.

But I do want to hear.

Oh, so very much, want to hear. To understand.

What's wrong with you? I shout.

I. Shout. Me. Benton Fraser, RCMP, shout. Flail my arms.Shout.

And Ray strikes me.

He strikes me.

Is he blind?

Totally, emotionally blind? His physical blindness a merereflection of his spiritual blindness?

How can he not see? How is it that he doesn't know?

Know me….

Know how I love him, how much, for how long, howtotally….

I sigh.

Hopeless.

He doesn't see. Or doesn't care. Or whatever it is, it doesn'tmatter.

I've lost him.

"Detective Vecchio and I…."

For how much longer will I say that phrase? For how many moredays, hours, minutes, will I be permitted by a careless Heaven tosay those words?

First, I said it with Ray. Then with this Ray, my Ray….

"Detective Vecchio and I…."

And now. Now. I am offered a transfer.

Ray is offered a transfer.

The phone call that clearly heralds the end of my life comessoon after Inspector Thatcher's revelation that I have beenoffered a transfer…. When I learn that Ray, too, has beenoffered a transfer….

And he wants to take his transfer. End it. End us….

"We gotta end it right, Fraser. You gotta do unto me,like I did unto you. Ya know - end it right."

"No, Ray -"

"Do not argue with me. This once, Frase, do not arguewith me. Jus' - come wid me there, where I did it. Tonight. Nine.I'll pick you up."

"Ray, I can't strike you -"

"Ya gotta, Frase. Please. Then it'll be over, we'll bequits."

I cannot hold out against his plea. I agree to go there withhim.

But not to strike him.

I cannot strike him. Will not.

But I will go there with him.

There is no question about that.

Any chance, anything that I must do, to see my Ray, I do.

Old story, old, old story.

Nearly over, that story. My story. All finished now….

I wipe my eyes, swallow away the tears, dress carefully,perfectly, for our meeting.

Enter his car, as if it were any other time, any otherpick-up, Ray waiting for me at the curb in front of theConsulate, Ray saying hello, how ya doin', Frase, Ray smiling.

But he is not smiling. Doesn't speak.

My heart cries out - I don't understand!

And I know with complete assurance, certainty, that his heartis crying, too.

He doesn't know why, either.

It is a shock to me, to realize this.

I cannot believe he will end our partnership and friendship,without finding out. End it thus, with violence. This partnershipthat tasted so sweet with concord, acceptance, love and trust -he will end with violence….

I am nearly unable to hold back my tears, again.

I cannot do this. Cannot strike him.

Can.

Can do it, can strike him, do strike him.

Done.

Never done.

He will take me home.

He will not forget, nor will I. He will never be"done" with me, nor I with him.

I struck him, and I understand.

Now, I understand.

He didn't simply strike me. He… touched me. Touched metrue, with all that he is, all that he is….

And I touched him….

We will never be done. Not now.

Transfer, no transfer. Together, apart. Never, everdone….

I see. I understand. But my Ray does not.

Not with his mind. But with his heart and every part of hisbody. Yes, he understands….

He is afraid.

* * *

Inside "Call of the Wild" -

* * *

I am dizzy with the shifting levels of comfort of ourpartnership.

And now, I am driven nearly insane with these newdevelopments.

My mother, my father, Muldoon….

Ray Vecchio - the "real" Ray Vecchio,returning….

And my Ray, dear to me as no one has ever been, before orsince, fading before my eyes, dying.

I must touch him once again. It is the only way, the only wayto bring him back. The only hope we have. But I cannot. Not now,not here.

Brave Ray. My so brave Ray. Opens his mouth and asks, are westill partners.

If you'll have me, I reply.

No need for a response from my Ray. By now, we both know thathe will have me. I don't know why, what I have done to merit hislove. Who I am, what I am, that makes him love me with suchfervor, such grace, such need. Such courage.

I know only that it is so. It is the truth.

Ray Vecchio nearly died for me, once again. Took that bulletfrom Muldoon to save my sorry ass.

And now my Ray is dying here, in the snow, in the wilds ofCanada, as he terms my homeland, my home, for me.

And now I do touch him, often and freely, and everywhere atonce, as he clings to me in the snow, in the cold, on the side ofa white and freezing and treacherous mountain.

As I care for him, as best I can, try to preserve his life andmy own.

Yes, yes, I touch him. He touches me. We don't speak - not oflove.

Of partnership, yes, of friendship. Of triumph.

Not of love.

The violence is gone. Rather, the violence is outside us now,comes from the elements, from without.

He understands, now. About himself. About how he feels, whathe feels for me. That he can no more begin again - without me -than fly….

There is left, there remains, but one more thing to do, thefinishing touch, to make all things clear.

I hesitate. I cannot find the words. Start, stop, over andover again.

If I don't do this, don't speak, explain myself - if I don'ttouch him - I will lose him.

* * *

Post-"Call of the Wild" -

* * *

I am given a reprieve. A time to stir up my courage, gird myloins, before I am forced to speak.

My Ray and I agree to go on "an adventure," insearch of the Hand of Franklin.

He shames me. I am ashamed of myself, in the face of hiscourage. His doggedness. His incredible moral courage andtenacity.

Still, night after night, day after day, I do not speak.Cannot.

* * *

"Frase?"

He speaks to me but stares into our fire. We have made campfor the evening, have finished our meager supper, drunk the lastof the coffee boiled this night over our now dying fire. It isalmost time for us to crawl into our bedrolls and sleep. It is socold, bitter cold, even for me. I marvel at his physicalendurance, in the face of the fact of it - and that it never ends- the cold…

"Yes, Ray?"

"Ya know that time? That time when we got offered thetransfers?"

I am alert. I inhale deeply, straighten my shoulders. It istime, then. And true to form, my Ray begins.

"I remember," I reply quietly.

"I wouldn' a took the transfer, no matter what."Spoken quietly, calmly, no fuss.

"Neither would I."

He looks up, then, from the fire to my eyes. Smiles quickly.If I weren't watching him intently, I would have missed thatsmile, which I would not have missed for the world.

"Starlight in your eyes," he murmurs. Still staringat me, not looking away.

"What?"

"It's from a song. I heard it last time we were in atown. New album."

"Yes?"

"By Santana. Carlos Santana," he adds, not sure I'veheard of the artist.

"I thought -" I begin again. "I didn't knowthat Santana was still alive."

"Oh, yeah, he's still alive. Alive and kicking! Got a newalbum - bet it's gonna be the best CD of the year. Mark mywords."

I am quiet for a moment, then ask, "Are there - Do youremember any other words from that song, Ray?"

He looks at me quickly, then, narrowing his eyes. I see amuscle jump in his cheek. Or a nerve. I am sure that we areclose, now, to the words….

"It's called Love of My Life." He hums for a moment,then adds, "Where you are is where I wanna be, and throughyour eyes, all the things I wanna see. Something something.You're everything to me," he finishes, quoting the song.

"Yes. Beautiful." I stare at him. "Beautifuland true."

"Frase -"

"Do you recall any more of the words, Ray?"

He shakes his head, shrugs first one shoulder, then the other,fast. Blows out through his mouth. Whoo. "Yeah. I can'tforget the taste of your mouth. >From your lips all theheavens pour out. Something something, maybe before that, maybeafter," and his brow furrows up. "Uh. Every day, everynight, you alone. You're the love of my life. I can't forget -this might be from before, I can't remember the order of thewords, Frase - I can't forget when we are one. From your lips allthe heavens pour out…"

He finishes speaking, telling me the words. Giving them to me.Offering the words to me.

Doesn't look at me, but I look at him.

"You struck me," I say.

"Yeah." He glances up, then, and there is no regret,no apology in his eyes. Not now.

And no more fear.

Nor in mine.

"You touched me, Ray."

"I hadda touch you, Fraser. I didn't get it, then. Or, ifI did, I didn't wanna get it."

"I got it," I admit with more bravado than truecourage.

"Ya did?" he asks. He is not surprised. Not now. Notafter more than a year alone with me. Winter, spring, summer,fall. And winter again.

"I did."

"Ya didn't tell me," he accuses, but softly, calmly."Why not?"

"I couldn't, Ray."

"Stupid."

"No. Not stupid. Frightened."

"Like me."

"Yes. No. No, not like you. But frightened,nevertheless."

The fire is dying. I stand and go to the small pile of wood afew steps away from our camp. Pick up a couple pieces and bringthem back with me. Fuss a bit, laying them on the fire just so,making certain that the flames will continue to warm us for aslong as we need them to, for as long as this talk takes.

"Them words - to the song, ya know? - from your lips allthe heavens pour out?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"I couldn't get it out of my mind. After. But you said itdidn't change anything -"

"It didn't. Nothing changed. It was still the same. Iloved you before the Henry Allen. I loved you after the HenryAllen. I loved you during the Henry Allen. Nothing changed."

"Not for me, either," Ray replies.

I swallow. "Something did change, when you struck me,Ray."

"Yeah?"

"I knew."

"Yeah." He chuckles. "And I still didn't."

"You have less experience with loneliness. Withaloneness. The… magic that is touch does not mean the samething to you. Doesn't have the… force for you that it hasfor me," I explain.

"Always gotta be one-up on me, dontcha?" he teases.

"I love you, Ray. I always did. There is no superioritygreater than loving someone gives. To love is the ultimatetriumph."

"You're a freak, Frase!" Ray tells me with hisbiggest grin.

It is sweet to hear that word, now. Freak. Ambrosia to myears. He understands. "From your lips all the heavens pourout," I make bold to say.

"You mean that?" he asks, serious, tense. If Ididn't know better, I'd say… angry.

"With all my heart, Ray."

"So, I guess it's about time something did change,huh?" he asks, diffident again.

"I… I hope so," I tell him. Waiting, stillwaiting. Still without true courage….

Ray has all the courage in this duet.

"Am I gonna have to do everything, Fraser?" he asks,already on the move, already making his way around the fire, tomy side. To my side.

He grabs my hands. I cannot speak.

"Fraser? Am I gonna have to do everything?" herepeats loudly, as if he thinks I didn't hear him the first time."I'm here, already!"

"I'm… I'm happy that you are here, Ray." And Iquote back to him the song lyrics he spoke to me. "Where youare, that's where I want to be."

"I guess I'm gonna need to take that as an answer. Lookslike I won't get anything more." He smiles sweetly at me."The starlight in your eyes."

And he kisses me.

Over and over again, he kisses me. Presses his lips to mine,against mine, over mine, holding my hands, immobilizing my hands,my mouth, my body….

At last, finally, he pulls his mouth from mine. Drops hishead. His hair is against my lips now. It smells soft and snowyand wild. I catch a strand between my teeth and taste it. Ittastes bright and clean and alive. I tug on his hair with myteeth. His head snaps up.

"You still love me, Ben?" Then, "Ya don't mindif I call ya Ben, do you?"

I laugh. I disengage my hands from his and grab his face.

"No, Ray, I don't mind if you call me Ben." I laughagain. I hold his head. I stick my tongue out and touch his lipsonce. I tilt his head. "From your lips all the heavens pourout," I repeat, and kiss him as hard as I can, my heartleaping in my breast with joy.

When I break away I find that he's holding my hands on hisface, keeping my hands there. He licks his lips, smacks his lips,shakes his head. "Tastes good, kiddo."

"I do mind if you call me kiddo, Ray," I sayseriously. He inhales sharply, at the feel of my breath on hisface.

"Okay. Ben yes, kiddo no."

"Will you… will you have me, Ray?" I ask.

"Every day, every night, you alone," he says. Wordsfrom the song, once again.

"It's a beautiful lyric, Ray. Such lyrics can carry usbeyond where we wish to go."

"Not me, they can't," he tells me. "Where youare is where I wanna be."

"Ray -"

"The lyrics talk to me, Fraser. Tell me what I don't evenunderstand or know about myself. They don't tell me lies. Theycan't. Not when the music is playing."

"The music?" I say, bewildered. I know I can hearmusic without sound. In my head. I didn't realize that Ray could,too.

"You're the music, Frase. From the beginning. What yousay, how you say it. Who you are. That's my music. My words.Everything to me."

"You're… everything to me…" I murmur, andkiss him again.

He will have me. He has me. He will always have me.

I understand. He understands.

He is the starlight in my eyes. Everything to me.

***