For Kindkit by barefootnow
Duo and Trio
Harding Welsh sat in the corner of the squad room, watching his people let off some of the tension that built during the holidays. Francesca Vecchio had insisted on what now seemed to be the traditional decorated tree and gift exchange among the shift members. This year, since it would be the last Christmas - indeed the last week -- that Ray Kowalski and his Mountie would be at the 2-7, there was a potluck added to the evening’s festivities in order to say goodbye. It tinged the Christmas revelries with a touch of sentiment and sadness. Harding had refused to acknowledge those feelings when Frannie had mentioned it earlier in the day, but yeah, he was certainly feeling it tonight.
He gazed over the room, noting how the pockets in revelers shifted and ebbed as they interacted. Ray Kowalski and Benton Fraser, he noted, were never far apart from each other, even if they chatted with different people. Harding let his thoughts wander back to the days when he first noticed this almost physical connection between the two. How the two had managed to keep what was surely a torrid physical relationship secret amidst a room full of detectives was quite the question - and testament to both men’s ability to go undercover. Harding smiled at his own unintentional pun. He had, of course, noticed the changes - he liked to think immediately, although he had never asked. It could be, of course, that his detectives had noticed the changes as well and also chose not to comment on it until the two went public with their relationship. Well, maybe Huey and some of the others could be that mature. Welsh was pretty certain that if Dewey had figured it out without being told there is no way the brash cop would have been quiet about it. Now, a year after the “revelation” as Frannie still called it, there were no noticeable differences in how everyone treated Ray and Fras- no, Ben.
His wondering thoughts brought him back to the “revelation” - indeed, he remembered, it had occurred at last year’s Christmas party. The boys had come and talked to him first about it. It had been an interesting turn around. Fraser hadn’t asked Harding to call him Ben at that time yet; that had come later in this past year. At that meeting Fraser had been uncharacteristically nervous and almost silent. He stood at attention and let Ray talk. Ray Kowalski had pretty much bowled Harding over with his calm yet passionate demeanor and his reasoned logic. They knew the reasons for not going public. They trusted their colleagues to treat them fairly and continue to back them up. They needed the established relationship for when they moved to Canada. And given their successful, well-established, and -- thanks to Fraser’s inability to blend in -- well publicized record, perhaps it would be good for gay cops to be known first as successful, get-the-job-done cops.
Harding remembered a million thoughts going through his head at the moment, from a-ha! I knew there was something going on; to don’t put too much trust in your fellow officers, please; to what about Francesca. That ended up being the first question out his mouth; what were they going to do about Francesca. She was going to the academy part time, still working as the civilian aid part time. He didn’t need the kind of disruption she might create.
Fraser and Ray had actually had the audacity to smile at him. Fraser finally spoke. Harding couldn’t recall Fraser’s exact words, but the gist was they had indeed talked to her and she was fine. She was the first person they had told, almost immediately upon their return from Canada two months previously. Francesca, Fraser reported, had astonished them with her straightforward acceptance. Harding smiled to himself again as he remembered the incredulity in Ray’s voice as he pitched in - she said what else would keep me in Canada for seven months but banging the Mountie? Yes, Francesca had adapted easily to losing what one might once have considered her life’s ambition. Harding would always give credit where credit was due and that young woman had grown up quite a bit and found another life’s ambition. Also, that she had been steadily dating someone from the Accounting office when Ray and Fraser returned had probably helped. The upshot was Francesca would not be a concern.
Then Ray’s manner returned to the more passionate, loose cannon Harding knew. His energy unleashed, Ray had swung his gaze to Harding - so, we know Frannie’s ok with it. What about you? Ray’s non-verbal language was pretty clear - we can walk out of here now and not look back. Ray was so wound up he looked as if he were bouncing, yet hardly a muscle was moving. Harding remembered that at moment he was fascinated by Ray’s ability to look like he was in motion just by standing still. Fraser, who had relaxed into a parade rest while they discussed Frannie, straightened back into his full attention posture when Ray popped out with that question. Harding remembered thinking that Fraser’s expression had a sense of expectation. The tension in the room had built. “Ray,” Fraser had said, “we have no cause to believe that Lieutenant Welsh will think negatively of us given what he knows. We agreed.” Fraser’s tone was more diffident than usual, attesting to the Mountie’s uncertainty about how this would all fall out.
Harding remembered his gaze swung between the two men as Ray turned to frown at Fraser. The two had communicated intently yet wordlessly. Harding supposed they had had this argument loudly and with words several times in private. He had decided he wouldn’t respond to Ray’s question until he had Ray’s attention again. After several moments which almost felt like hours to Harding, both Ray and Fraser relaxed slightly, although he was hard-pressed to identify how he knew that. Finally, Ray’s gaze swung back to him. “So?” asked Ray, his voice expectant...
Harding knew this was a breakpoint. He needed to be forthright and honest with them.
“Ray, Fraser. If you don’t know that I think you are both good cops, then that’s my fault. You’re a good team, and individually you’re good investigators. I wish what you said earlier was right - that because you are good cops that that should be all that matters. In a fair world, that would be the measure of your success. I can bet that that has been Constable Fraser’s argument all along and Ray’s been the one holding back on talking to me.” Fraser had nodded his head in pleased agreement, but Ray’s expression meant he knew there was the big “but” coming. Harding had made direct eye contact with Ray. “Headaches that you’ve caused me aside, I wanted you here, Kowalski. I wanted you to come and take over for Vecchio and I wanted you when you came back from Canada. So, yeah, I still want you if you’re a gay cop. I’m thinking, that while you may be a gay cop now, you’re also a happier cop?” Harding had paused, looking keenly at Ray. Ray had had the grace to blush and nod his head yes, but had maintained eye contact.
“Yeah, I’m definitely a happier cop.”
“Like I hadn’t noticed that,” had been Harding’s rather sardonic response.
At that point Harding’s gaze had swung to Fraser. Fraser was watching his partner, the glow of pride Fraser felt for Ray showing plainly on his face. “But Fraser,” Harding had continued, and Fraser turned his focused gaze to the Lieutenant. “I can’t control how other people will respond. I can set the tone. I can have expectations. But I can’t keep things from happening. Or worse. From not happening.”
Harding had hated doing it to Fraser, but he knew that when Fraser had an idealistic belief, the Mountie would go full tilt into the breach, not thinking ahead about how his actions might affect others. Or, Harding recalled ruefully, how Fraser also had the knack for pulling others along with him on that ride. That Warfield was still in jail was a testament to Fraser’s idealism. That was an episode where the idealism had nearly gotten Fraser killed. Harding didn’t want that happening now.
“Back up that comes in slower than it needed to. Calls that don’t quite get logged in a timely manner. Priorities that shift based on who’s on deck. There are some here who won’t bat an eye. There are some who will use this as an opportunity to show that gay cops don’t belong. You’ll have a rough row to hoe if you do this.” He had paused, to give them both time to process what he was saying. “I still want you on my team. It’s how you do your job that I care about. And you two do it very well.”
Harding remembered that Fraser and Ray carried out yet another silent conversation. He had sat back and watched as the two came to an unspoken agreement. Ray again spoke for the couple.
“Yeah, that’s what we were hoping you’d say. We want to go ahead. Partly so that if someone does find out, we’ve been up front with everyone. Fraser’s arguing how can we trust them to back us up if we can’t trust them to tell about something so fundamentally important to who we are.”
Harding moved as if to interrupt but Ray continues. “Yeah, that’s Fraser. Me, I figure we’re here for about a year more. If we can do something that helps some guys that come after us, then let’s do it. So yeah, we want to tell the squad. It’s decided, period. Stick it in a box marked done.” Ray stopped at that point. Slowed down a little, although Harding wasn’t sure how you could tell that someone had slowed down when they really weren’t moving. “So part of what we are asking you is how you want us to do it.”
Harding remembered being a little taken aback. How indeed, did you deliver such a message? They three men had spent the next twenty minutes planning out their next steps as carefully as they had planned out Muldoon’s capture.
To Harding, the actual revelation to the shift had been much less an event than the discussion the three had had in his own office. Now, a year later, Harding’s premonitions had proved fairly accurate. Most staff had been, if not accepting, then somewhat indifferent to the news. A few had worked against Ray and Fraser, one or two almost openly, but luckily not to the extent where anyone was seriously hurt, or worse, where perps ended up winning rather than the good guys. After the newness had worn off, life at the 2-7 had had fallen back into its previous routine. Except for that almost visible physical connection, there wasn’t much difference in how Ray and Fraser had acted in the squad room. They didn’t call attention to their relationship. They continued to be an effective team, with, as Ray put it so well, Fraser setting them up and Ray knocking them down.
And now, Harding thought to himself, they were leaving. The three men had spent some off-work time together this past year. A fishing weekend over the summer, dinner once or twice a month, and the occasional movie or ball game. They were good men, good friends, and Harding knew he would miss them professionally and personally. But it would be a good miss - not due to death or injury, but due to the two doing what they really wanted to do. He had agreed to come and visit sometime the coming summer for another fishing trip. Ben had guaranteed him fishing like he’d never had the opportunity to do in the Chicago area. Ray had just grinned and added a smart-assed retort that when one fished in summer in Chicago one didn’t go by dog sled. Harding still wasn’t too sure how much Ray was pulling his leg. But hey, if that skinny kid could learn to dog sled, well, he sure as hell could too.
Harding pushed away from the wall. The gift exchange was about to begin and it wouldn’t do to be caught out reminiscing about the past. They still had a night to celebrate joy to the world, the joy of friendship, and, while it might be his own private celebration, the joy of watching two people so clearly in love.
Harding Welsh sat in the corner of the squad room, watching his people let off some of the tension that built during the holidays. Francesca Vecchio had insisted on what now seemed to be the traditional decorated tree and gift exchange among the shift members. This year, since it would be the last Christmas - indeed the last week -- that Ray Kowalski and his Mountie would be at the 2-7, there was a potluck added to the evening’s festivities in order to say goodbye. It tinged the Christmas revelries with a touch of sentiment and sadness. Harding had refused to acknowledge those feelings when Frannie had mentioned it earlier in the day, but yeah, he was certainly feeling it tonight.
He gazed over the room, noting how the pockets in revelers shifted and ebbed as they interacted. Ray Kowalski and Benton Fraser, he noted, were never far apart from each other, even if they chatted with different people. Harding let his thoughts wander back to the days when he first noticed this almost physical connection between the two. How the two had managed to keep what was surely a torrid physical relationship secret amidst a room full of detectives was quite the question - and testament to both men’s ability to go undercover. Harding smiled at his own unintentional pun. He had, of course, noticed the changes - he liked to think immediately, although he had never asked. It could be, of course, that his detectives had noticed the changes as well and also chose not to comment on it until the two went public with their relationship. Well, maybe Huey and some of the others could be that mature. Welsh was pretty certain that if Dewey had figured it out without being told there is no way the brash cop would have been quiet about it. Now, a year after the “revelation” as Frannie still called it, there were no noticeable differences in how everyone treated Ray and Fras- no, Ben.
His wondering thoughts brought him back to the “revelation” - indeed, he remembered, it had occurred at last year’s Christmas party. The boys had come and talked to him first about it. It had been an interesting turn around. Fraser hadn’t asked Harding to call him Ben at that time yet; that had come later in this past year. At that meeting Fraser had been uncharacteristically nervous and almost silent. He stood at attention and let Ray talk. Ray Kowalski had pretty much bowled Harding over with his calm yet passionate demeanor and his reasoned logic. They knew the reasons for not going public. They trusted their colleagues to treat them fairly and continue to back them up. They needed the established relationship for when they moved to Canada. And given their successful, well-established, and -- thanks to Fraser’s inability to blend in -- well publicized record, perhaps it would be good for gay cops to be known first as successful, get-the-job-done cops.
Harding remembered a million thoughts going through his head at the moment, from a-ha! I knew there was something going on; to don’t put too much trust in your fellow officers, please; to what about Francesca. That ended up being the first question out his mouth; what were they going to do about Francesca. She was going to the academy part time, still working as the civilian aid part time. He didn’t need the kind of disruption she might create.
Fraser and Ray had actually had the audacity to smile at him. Fraser finally spoke. Harding couldn’t recall Fraser’s exact words, but the gist was they had indeed talked to her and she was fine. She was the first person they had told, almost immediately upon their return from Canada two months previously. Francesca, Fraser reported, had astonished them with her straightforward acceptance. Harding smiled to himself again as he remembered the incredulity in Ray’s voice as he pitched in - she said what else would keep me in Canada for seven months but banging the Mountie? Yes, Francesca had adapted easily to losing what one might once have considered her life’s ambition. Harding would always give credit where credit was due and that young woman had grown up quite a bit and found another life’s ambition. Also, that she had been steadily dating someone from the Accounting office when Ray and Fraser returned had probably helped. The upshot was Francesca would not be a concern.
Then Ray’s manner returned to the more passionate, loose cannon Harding knew. His energy unleashed, Ray had swung his gaze to Harding - so, we know Frannie’s ok with it. What about you? Ray’s non-verbal language was pretty clear - we can walk out of here now and not look back. Ray was so wound up he looked as if he were bouncing, yet hardly a muscle was moving. Harding remembered that at moment he was fascinated by Ray’s ability to look like he was in motion just by standing still. Fraser, who had relaxed into a parade rest while they discussed Frannie, straightened back into his full attention posture when Ray popped out with that question. Harding remembered thinking that Fraser’s expression had a sense of expectation. The tension in the room had built. “Ray,” Fraser had said, “we have no cause to believe that Lieutenant Welsh will think negatively of us given what he knows. We agreed.” Fraser’s tone was more diffident than usual, attesting to the Mountie’s uncertainty about how this would all fall out.
Harding remembered his gaze swung between the two men as Ray turned to frown at Fraser. The two had communicated intently yet wordlessly. Harding supposed they had had this argument loudly and with words several times in private. He had decided he wouldn’t respond to Ray’s question until he had Ray’s attention again. After several moments which almost felt like hours to Harding, both Ray and Fraser relaxed slightly, although he was hard-pressed to identify how he knew that. Finally, Ray’s gaze swung back to him. “So?” asked Ray, his voice expectant...
Harding knew this was a breakpoint. He needed to be forthright and honest with them.
“Ray, Fraser. If you don’t know that I think you are both good cops, then that’s my fault. You’re a good team, and individually you’re good investigators. I wish what you said earlier was right - that because you are good cops that that should be all that matters. In a fair world, that would be the measure of your success. I can bet that that has been Constable Fraser’s argument all along and Ray’s been the one holding back on talking to me.” Fraser had nodded his head in pleased agreement, but Ray’s expression meant he knew there was the big “but” coming. Harding had made direct eye contact with Ray. “Headaches that you’ve caused me aside, I wanted you here, Kowalski. I wanted you to come and take over for Vecchio and I wanted you when you came back from Canada. So, yeah, I still want you if you’re a gay cop. I’m thinking, that while you may be a gay cop now, you’re also a happier cop?” Harding had paused, looking keenly at Ray. Ray had had the grace to blush and nod his head yes, but had maintained eye contact.
“Yeah, I’m definitely a happier cop.”
“Like I hadn’t noticed that,” had been Harding’s rather sardonic response.
At that point Harding’s gaze had swung to Fraser. Fraser was watching his partner, the glow of pride Fraser felt for Ray showing plainly on his face. “But Fraser,” Harding had continued, and Fraser turned his focused gaze to the Lieutenant. “I can’t control how other people will respond. I can set the tone. I can have expectations. But I can’t keep things from happening. Or worse. From not happening.”
Harding had hated doing it to Fraser, but he knew that when Fraser had an idealistic belief, the Mountie would go full tilt into the breach, not thinking ahead about how his actions might affect others. Or, Harding recalled ruefully, how Fraser also had the knack for pulling others along with him on that ride. That Warfield was still in jail was a testament to Fraser’s idealism. That was an episode where the idealism had nearly gotten Fraser killed. Harding didn’t want that happening now.
“Back up that comes in slower than it needed to. Calls that don’t quite get logged in a timely manner. Priorities that shift based on who’s on deck. There are some here who won’t bat an eye. There are some who will use this as an opportunity to show that gay cops don’t belong. You’ll have a rough row to hoe if you do this.” He had paused, to give them both time to process what he was saying. “I still want you on my team. It’s how you do your job that I care about. And you two do it very well.”
Harding remembered that Fraser and Ray carried out yet another silent conversation. He had sat back and watched as the two came to an unspoken agreement. Ray again spoke for the couple.
“Yeah, that’s what we were hoping you’d say. We want to go ahead. Partly so that if someone does find out, we’ve been up front with everyone. Fraser’s arguing how can we trust them to back us up if we can’t trust them to tell about something so fundamentally important to who we are.”
Harding moved as if to interrupt but Ray continues. “Yeah, that’s Fraser. Me, I figure we’re here for about a year more. If we can do something that helps some guys that come after us, then let’s do it. So yeah, we want to tell the squad. It’s decided, period. Stick it in a box marked done.” Ray stopped at that point. Slowed down a little, although Harding wasn’t sure how you could tell that someone had slowed down when they really weren’t moving. “So part of what we are asking you is how you want us to do it.”
Harding remembered being a little taken aback. How indeed, did you deliver such a message? They three men had spent the next twenty minutes planning out their next steps as carefully as they had planned out Muldoon’s capture.
To Harding, the actual revelation to the shift had been much less an event than the discussion the three had had in his own office. Now, a year later, Harding’s premonitions had proved fairly accurate. Most staff had been, if not accepting, then somewhat indifferent to the news. A few had worked against Ray and Fraser, one or two almost openly, but luckily not to the extent where anyone was seriously hurt, or worse, where perps ended up winning rather than the good guys. After the newness had worn off, life at the 2-7 had had fallen back into its previous routine. Except for that almost visible physical connection, there wasn’t much difference in how Ray and Fraser had acted in the squad room. They didn’t call attention to their relationship. They continued to be an effective team, with, as Ray put it so well, Fraser setting them up and Ray knocking them down.
And now, Harding thought to himself, they were leaving. The three men had spent some off-work time together this past year. A fishing weekend over the summer, dinner once or twice a month, and the occasional movie or ball game. They were good men, good friends, and Harding knew he would miss them professionally and personally. But it would be a good miss - not due to death or injury, but due to the two doing what they really wanted to do. He had agreed to come and visit sometime the coming summer for another fishing trip. Ben had guaranteed him fishing like he’d never had the opportunity to do in the Chicago area. Ray had just grinned and added a smart-assed retort that when one fished in summer in Chicago one didn’t go by dog sled. Harding still wasn’t too sure how much Ray was pulling his leg. But hey, if that skinny kid could learn to dog sled, well, he sure as hell could too.
Harding pushed away from the wall. The gift exchange was about to begin and it wouldn’t do to be caught out reminiscing about the past. They still had a night to celebrate joy to the world, the joy of friendship, and, while it might be his own private celebration, the joy of watching two people so clearly in love.