due South fic: "Push and Pull"
May. 20th, 2011 11:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
luzulaYay, I'm finally done with this! \o/ My first long fic for this year (well, relatively long, anyway).
Title: Push and Pull
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: R
Length: 9,700 words
Summary: Ray and Fraser are in therapy to deal with their psychic bond, and they also handle another case at the department of magical crimes.
Notes: This is a superpower AU that follows Accidental Bonding (AO3 link), which you need to read first in order to make sense of this one--it's really a continuation of that fic, rather than an independent sequel. I'm grateful to the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
ficfinishing community and my first reader mizface for keeping me going, and to my beta springwoof for pushing me to make it better.
"Ray, are you going to make that call?" I asked.
"I hate therapy," he said, slouching back in his seat and scrunching up his face. I could feel his grumpiness through the bond that linked us, not that I needed it in order to interpret his feelings.
"I have a feeling it isn't optional," I said. Welsh's manner had indicated as much, and RCMP procedures would have dictated therapy if two officers formed an accidental bond, too, much the way they did for an officer involved with a traumatic case.
"Yeah," Ray said, but he didn't pick up the phone.
"Would you like me to make the call?"
"Fine." Ray left, heading for the break room. I wondered why he resisted this so much, but shrugged and reached for the phone.
"Doctor Stein's office here. What can I do for you?" said a cheerful voice on the other end.
"I'm Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, calling from the 27th precinct of the CPD. I'm given to understand that Doctor Stein is a therapist who can handle issues related to, ah, gifted individuals."
"Sure, that's right. She works for the police a lot. Do you want to make an appointment?"
"Yes, please. For myself and my partner."
"Right," the receptionist said, and found a suitable time for us.
Ray came back with a coffee and a sugary snack. "Done?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
He sat down beside me, and his leg touched mine. I could feel his shift in mood, like a slow caress that brushed just above my skin. I felt my face heating. This was entirely inappropriate for the workplace. Not that we'd actually done anything improper, but...
For what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon, I wished the day was over so that we could go home and--no, don't think of that now. I stood up abruptly. "Ray, I don't believe we've finished the paperwork for the Singh case?"
He sighed, and I could feel him try to take hold of himself. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."
We spent the last hour of the shift sitting at opposite ends of the desk, thinking very deliberately about paperwork.
***
"Finally," Ray said when we were inside his apartment, door safely closed behind us. He grabbed me and pushed me up against the door with a thud. Dief slipped away into the kitchen.
"Fuck, I've wanted to do that all day," Ray muttered. I pulled him against me and kissed him, feeling our power flare up around us.
And that was that. My uniform was left scattered on the floor in a way that I would, in a different frame of mind, have considered shameful. We ended up naked on the couch, with Ray on top of me, and the touch of all that skin on mine created a rush that was more than just sexual in nature. Ray moved against me in a rhythm that brought me to my climax embarrassingly quickly, and I felt him come, too, in a loop of such intense pleasure that it left me limp and speechless.
"Mmmph," Ray mumbled, heavy on top of me. Aftershocks of power danced across our skin like small electric shocks.
"Mmm," I agreed eloquently, and moved to turn my face into the side of his neck. It felt like all the movement I could manage.
"You ever had sex like that before?" Ray asked, after a long while of silence and slowing heartbeats.
I shook my head, and shifted so that Ray slid off me and we lay side by side, still touching along the whole length of our bodies. "It would seem that simultaneous orgasms are a side effect of bonding."
Ray snorted, and I felt the muscles of his stomach and chest shift with the sound. "No kidding. Maybe being bonded isn't so bad after all."
***
I was ready to disagree by the next day. I spent most of it at the consulate catching up on administration, so as not to expose myself to the sort of distraction I had experienced at the precinct yesterday. Nevertheless Ray's state of mind constantly intruded on my own thoughts, and I had difficulty concentrating.
Ray called me in the afternoon, requesting help with a case, and he picked me up soon after that.
"You all right?" Ray asked.
"Yes, thank you," I said, and Ray poked me in the arm.
"You're not all right. I can feel you, remember?"
I scratched at my eyebrow reflexively. Yes, that was the problem. "I'm having a bit of trouble concentrating."
"You mean you keep remembering last night and can't do your job properly?" Ray grinned. He took one hand off the wheel and stroked the back of my neck, one of the few places left uncovered by my uniform. I leaned into the touch like a cat, and felt our combined power hum and come to life. I was fairly sure I was blushing.
"Well, I suppose that's part of it. But--"
"Look, I'm not sure it's all because of the bonding. I mean, when it's all...new like this, it's hard to think about anything but--well, you know." Ray smiled, looking almost shy.
I felt a rush of affection for him, and his smile grew more radiant as he felt it, too. Perhaps it would grow easier with time. And besides, our therapy appointment was tomorrow--perhaps I would get some answers then.
"So, what's the case about?" I asked.
Ray took his hand from the back of my neck (a move of which I should have approved more than I did, given that he was driving) and told me about it. "Well, there's a guy who worked at a place down at the docks, and he's saying that the employees are overworked and aren't getting paid, and not protesting because someone's working magic on them."
"That does sound serious. Have you talked to him yet?"
"Just on the phone. We're on our way to see him now."
***
Miguel Santos was a young man who looked, as my grandmother would have put it, as if he could use a hearty meal. We shook hands and introduced ourselves.
"So, tell us about it," Ray said as we sat down at the kitchen table.
"I only worked there for a month," Miguel said in accented English. "I don't remember most of it--it's all blurry."
An older woman came to set a plate of food in front of Miguel, and I was relieved to see that he did indeed have someone to see that he got some meat on his bones. She looked at us warily, but after a quick exchange with Miguel in Spanish, she offered us a meal, too. We declined, but she persuaded us to at least have coffee.
"Did you quit the job?" Fraser asked, and sipped at the coffee. One had to be polite when offered hospitality, after all.
Miguel shook his head. "I don't think I could have. My family got me out. They said I didn't talk to them, didn't come home. They got worried. I'm staying with my grandparents now, so he won't come after me. At least, I hope he won't."
"He?" Ray asked.
"The boss." Miguel shivered.
"Do you know his name?" Ray asked.
Miguel shook his head. "We just called him the boss."
"Can you describe him?" I asked.
Miguel frowned. "No. I can't seem to remember..."
Ray glanced at me, and I nodded. The man must have influenced his memory. "Well, can you tell us where you worked?"
He could, and he also told us that there were around ten other workers there, and that he'd reported this to the police for their sake. But he refused to come with us back there, which was probably wise of him.
I felt less uncomfortable with the bond now that Ray and I worked with a common purpose, I realized. Ray's focus helped my own.
"How long has it been since you were brought here?" I asked.
Miguel looked confused, but he asked his grandmother. "Four days."
"If he was going to come after you, he probably would have by now," Ray said. "So I think you're safe."
Tracking skills such as the one I had were not so common. If he had the ability to sense minds that he had tampered with, Miguel might still be outside his range--this apartment was some considerable distance from the docks. Besides, Miguel was not gifted, and would thus be harder to sense.
Or perhaps he could obtain new workers so easily that he didn't care if one went missing.
***
The next morning we went to our appointment with the therapist. Ray scowled as he picked me up at the Consulate, and I felt his mood like a small dark thundercloud threatening rain.
"Ray, do you have an aversion to therapy?" Not that I myself looked forward to it--baring my innermost thoughts and feelings to a stranger did not come easily to me. Of course, I hoped that this would not be that kind of therapy.
Ray made a grumpy sound, then sighed and shook his head like a dog coming up from the water. "Stella made me go with her to couples therapy for a while, before the divorce. It sucked. I mean, she was all articulate and stuff, and I really wasn't, and I felt like the therapist was taking her side. And I didn't like talking about our relationship with somebody else there."
"That's quite understandable. But this won't be like that. We're not--I mean, we are a couple," and here I realized that Ray and I had not actually defined our relationship yet. What if Ray didn't consider us a couple? "I mean, at least we have, ah, slept with one another, which is not a part of an ordinary partnership, and..."
I gave up trying to extricate myself. "What I'm trying to say is, this therapy concerns our professional relationship, not our private one."
Ray drummed his fingers on the steering wheel nervously. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Still, I feel weird about it."
Our therapist was a woman in her fifties with a firm handshake. Her hair was streaked with gray and bound back in a knot.
"I'm Judy Stein," she said. I could feel the glow of her gift, though she was not as strong as Ray or I was.
"Benton Fraser," I said, and Ray introduced himself, too.
"So, I understand you're from the CPD?" she said.
"Yes, that's right."
"I work with police officers a lot," Dr. Stein said, and motioned for us to sit down in the chairs in front of her desk. She smiled at us encouragingly and clasped her hands in front of her on the desk. "So, tell me what you need help with."
"My partner and I have, well, bonded. Accidentally. During a case."
"No need to be ashamed. It happens," she said, nodding. I had no doubt that she could tell by herself that we were bonded. Blushing, I wondered what else she could tell.
"So, why don't you tell me how it happened?" she asked.
Ray glanced at me. I obliged him and began telling Dr. Stein what had happened. She nodded matter-of-factly as I told the story.
"Perhaps it's surprising that it doesn't happen more often," she said. "But it's so ingrained in us to keep our integrity that it usually only happens under duress. Now, have you tried to break the bond in any way?"
"Well, we have a neutralized interview room at the station," I said. "The bond was gone when we were in there, of course, but it came back when we left the room."
She nodded. "I suppose you weren't in there very long."
Ray spoke for the first time. "It's not...I mean, it's not that bad. Being bonded, I mean."
Dr. Stein raised her eyebrows. "Most people find it intrusive. There are some people who choose to stay bonded, but they're usually couples. And even then, I have to wonder if it's healthy. Maybe you've been lucky enough to avoid this so far, but you can get caught in negative feedback loops that are hard to break."
"Negative feedback loops?" Ray asked.
"Well, any feeling can be amplified through the bond, if it spreads to the other person. For example, you might be angry with the other person. They'll feel it through the bond, and they might be angry with you in return, and it can be amplified until it's almost unbearable."
I remembered the morning after Ray and I had been bonded, when I had panicked, like a rabbit trapped in a noose.
Ray was stubborn, though. "But can't you get positive feedback loops, too?" Positive feedback loops--well, I supposed that was one way of putting it. I blushed, remembering the effect that the bond had on sex.
Dr. Stein frowned, looking at him over the rim of her glasses. "Of course, but that hardly outweighs the negative ones. They can be downright dangerous sometimes, and there are several recorded cases where people committed suicide because of a negative feedback loop."
Ray nodded. I wanted to stretch out my hand to touch him in reassurance, but could hardly do so in front of Dr. Stein.
"So, I want you to try geographical separation first. In some cases that's enough to permanently break the bond--your mind gets used to working alone again, and this keeps you from slipping into the bond once you get back."
"All right," I said. "How far away do we need to get, and for how long?"
"Well, it depends on your range. How large is it?"
"Mine is about five kilometers, and Ray's is two."
"Five kilometers? That's...around three miles, right? That's quite a lot."
"Ah, well, I'm a tracker."
She nodded. "As you know, your range is as far as you can consciously reach with your powers. But studies have shown that there's a subconscious range where traces of power linger, especially in the direction of home. So I'd like one of you to get clear outside of town over the weekend, at least twelve miles away. Two full days should be enough. Any questions?"
"So, will that break the bond?" Ray asked.
"It might. Or it might not, but we'll deal with that when it happens." She stood up and showed us out. "Good luck. I'll see you next week."
***
That evening, I volunteered to be the one to leave over the weekend. In fact, I quite looked forward to getting away from the press of people in the city. Ray looked on as I packed my camping equipment: tent, sleeping bag, camping stove and food. He didn't say anything, but I felt his unease.
"Ray, are you all right?" I said, standing up.
"Yeah, sure," he said, and pulled me in for a hug. His stubble rasped against my sensitive, newly shaven cheek, and I turned my head to kiss him. One kiss turned into several in a dizzying loop of arousal, until we were rubbing up desperately against each other.
"Don't you--oh--have a bus to catch?" Ray asked.
I glanced at my watch. "I think we have time."
"Right," Ray said, spinning us around so that I was against the wall. He went to his knees, unbuttoned the fly of my jeans, and took me into his mouth.
No, I really wouldn't last long enough that I'd need to worry about missing the bus.
Afterward, Ray drove Dief and me to the bus station. He was more relaxed, but there was still an uneasy undertone to his feelings that I couldn't put my finger on. Well, I'd let him speak of it if he wanted to. It still felt like an intrusion to be able to sense his feelings without his consent.
"Well, um. I guess I'll see you on Sunday," Ray said.
I took his hand and squeezed it, trying to reassure him--I couldn't very well be any more demonstrative than that in public. "Yes, I'll see you on Sunday."
I got on the bus, but when Dief tried to get on with me, the driver stopped him. "Hey! No pets on the bus."
Ray sighed and went to talk to the driver. "Just this once?" He slipped the driver something, presumably money. I raised my eyebrows at Ray.
"Think of it as the price of Dief's ticket, all right? You can pay me back later." I hesitated, but Ray had already slipped out of the bus.
As the bus began to drive, I felt a pang of loss from Ray that made me turn my head sharply, but he was already out of sight. I didn't quite understand it--I'd be back on Sunday, after all.
I felt Ray's presence grow fainter as the bus drove through the city. Finally it was gone altogether, with a quite noticeable snip like a scissors cutting a thread in two. I watched the outskirts of the city give way to countryside, and felt a strange mixture of relief and loss.
I asked the driver to let me off at a rest stop near a state park, and Dief and I tramped off across country to spend some time alone.
***
It was late at night on Sunday when I got back to the city. I walked from the bus station to the Consulate without feeling a trace of Ray's presence. Then, while I unpacked my things and hung the sleeping bag to air out, Ray suddenly came rushing into my head again. He wasn't feeling well. I dropped my tent on the floor and reached out for Ray in my head. I wanted to soothe away that miserable feeling.
I felt Ray coming closer, and I realized that he was probably driving over here. Sure enough, he knocked on the Consulate door after only ten minutes.
"Hey, so. You're back," Ray said.
"Yes, I'm back," I said carefully. "And we're still, well. Bonded."
"Yeah." He fell silent, but I couldn't bear it any longer.
"What's wrong?"
"What do you mean?" he said, folding his arms over his chest defensively.
I gestured between us. "Please, I can feel it."
"Fine. I just...do you really want this?"
"Want what?"
"Me." He looked belligerent, his jaw set.
I stared at him. I was tired and had been hoping to go straight to bed, but I felt on edge now, with Ray's emotions bleeding into me.
"I do," I said. "Why do you doubt it?"
"Well, you're--it's like you're shutting me out." Ray balled up his hands into fists in frustration.
"I'm just doing what the therapist said. Ray, this--this bond isn't the same thing as our relationship."
"Why do we have to do what she says?"
"Ray, please calm down." I took a step toward him and took hold of his hand in an attempt to calm him. But I could feel Ray's irritation at my, as he thought it, patronizing tone. At the touch of our hands, I felt my own annoyance flare up. Why did he have to be so irrational?
Ray's muscles were tensed under my grip. "You stop that or I swear I'm going to punch you."
I gripped his arm harder. There we stood, locked in a silent spiral of frustration and adrenaline, until Diefenbaker came to my rescue once again. He barked, then charged at us, breaking us apart.
Ray lost his balance and fell, and I felt the sharp pain as he barked his shin against a chair. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered under his breath.
"Thank you, Dief." I shook my head to clear it of Ray's pain. "Ray?" I said hesitantly. "Are you all right?"
He sighed and stood up. "Yeah. Maybe I'd better go home."
"You don't have to." I approached him and put my hand awkwardly on his shoulder. "I really do...want you." Love, I thought, it's called love. But I didn't have much practice at telling people I loved them.
"Nah, I'll go home. I've fucked this up enough already." Ray shrugged off my hand and went to the door.
"But--I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
I went to bed, and so did he. But neither of us got much sleep, and I tossed and turned with a simmering low-grade guilt and misery that came from Ray or me or both of us--I couldn't tell.
***
I had to drag myself from bed the next morning--I didn't know if it was because I hadn't slept well, or because Ray's morning habits had rubbed off on me. We had a therapy appointment first thing in the morning, and I did not feel prepared.
Still, we had to be there. I arrived a little early and waited outside for Ray. If I closed my eyes, I could track his approach, and I did so until I opened my eyes and saw him closing the door of the GTO.
"Um, hi." Ray faced me uncertainly. His cheeks were unshaven and there were shadows under his eyes. My heart went out to him, and I wanted very much to hug him. I didn't, but he sensed the impulse and smiled.
"Right, let's get this over with," he said, and we went inside.
"I take it you weren't successful," Dr. Stein said after we had exchanged some introductory pleasantries.
"Ah, no," I said.
"When did you feel the bond return? As soon as you came back within range?"
"No. It was when I came home."
She nodded. "That sounds typical. The mind forms a habit quickly, and Ray probably reached out towards your home. Anyway, with around 30% of bonded people, the bond will re-form after a short period of separation, so you're not alone."
"Does that mean we're stuck with it?" Ray asked.
Dr. Stein shook her head. "It just means we try something else. We'll start with a simple exercise. What I'm going to give you are just images, all right? So you can modify them if you find something that works better for you."
"Now, close your eyes." Her voice was calm and deep, and I obeyed. "Imagine that you are building a wall between yourself and the rest of the world. You can imagine laying bricks, or building a plank fence, or just drawing a drapery around yourself. You're not being threatened by danger or hiding from anything. You're just choosing to be by yourself, and drawing a border between you and the rest of the world."
I began to do what she told me to, but then I felt Ray disrupting my attempts. I opened my eyes. He had crossed his arms over his chest and looked rebellious.
"Ray--" I said, and his scowl deepened.
"I just don't--" He broke off and glanced at Dr. Stein.
"Am I missing something here?" she said. Neither Ray nor I said anything.
Dr. Stein leaned forward and looked us both in the eye, one after the other. "Look, I'm here to help you. But if you don't tell me what's going on, I can't do that."
"Well..." I said, and trailed off. I glanced at Ray. We hadn't told anyone yet, and I didn't want to do so without discussing it with Ray.
Dr. Stein frowned. "I may be entirely on the wrong track here, but--are you two in a relationship or something?"
I blushed and looked away, which was probably answer enough. Ray stared at her. "Are we that obvious?"
"Probably not, no. My talent lies in reading other people's power--it's why I became a therapist. And the way you two relate to each other didn't seem typical of police partners." She sighed, and I thought she looked a little disapproving. I didn't know whether it was homophobia or just the added complication in our situation, although I hoped it was the latter.
"So is that going to change anything?" Ray asked.
"Don't worry, I don't care in the least that you're both men," Dr. Stein said, "And everything you tell me is confidential. It's not my business--even if I'm fairly sure the CPD frowns on couples working as partners."
I felt relieved, and for a moment, her directness reminded me of my grandmother.
She went on, "This isn't couples therapy, but let's at least try to untangle this. Ray, you seemed to feel uncomfortable with the exercise we tried. Was anything upsetting you?"
Ray looked stubborn, and I felt his reluctance to speak. Finally he said, "I don't want to break the bond."
"All right. How do you feel about it?" She turned to me.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. What did I want? I couldn't deny that it had been a relief to be alone in my own head again when I'd gone away over the weekend. But I felt it would be a betrayal of Ray to say so without talking to him first.
"You don't have to decide anything now," Dr. Stein said. "But I have to insist on teaching you both how to break the bond. It's for your own safety. And if you decide later to bond again, you can. Even if I would strongly advise against it."
"Yeah, I got that," Ray muttered.
"So let's try that exercise again."
***
It felt like a relief to go back to police work in the afternoon--to have a common goal with no personal issues involved.
"Right, so let's get on the Santos case," Ray said.
"Yes. Perhaps we ought to try getting in contact with one of the other workers?"
We drove down towards the docks and parked so that we could keep an eye on the warehouse where Manuel Santos had worked, being careful not to get too close to the building.
After two hours had passed and nothing had happened at the warehouse except for a delivery of some sort of goods, Ray sighed and shifted around in his seat. "Maybe he keeps the workers locked up in the warehouse so they can work around the clock."
"It's possible, I suppose. But let's give it a bit more time." Dief shifted in the back seat, and I turned to apologize to him. "I'm sorry, I can't let you out in this neighborhood. I promise you we'll go for a long run soon."
"Hey, he had all that hiking this weekend." Ray stretched and tried to find more space for his long legs. "Fuck, I'm bored."
I had to admit his profanity gave me some ideas.
Ray felt it and grinned. "In a public place? Nice to know you get horny like the rest of us."
I felt my face flushing. "I didn't intend to act on it."
"Hey, I thought it was an awesome idea." Ray grin grew wider, and he slouched down in the seat, splaying his legs apart. The invisible fingers of Ray's power trailed down my chest, tweaking my nipples. I groaned in frustration and cast around for another subject of conversation before the feedback between us grew unbearable.
"Perhaps we should try some of those exercises the therapist gave us?"
Ray's face fell, and the mood was dispersed. "Yeah, I guess."
"Ray, I...please don't take this the wrong way, but I think I do want to break the bond. I can't live with someone else constantly inside my head. I'm used to solitude. I even had a hard time adjusting to living in the city at first, and I--"
I interrupted myself. Ray looked down, but I could feel his distress.
"No! Please listen to me." I reached out my hand to take Ray's hand in mine. "I love you."
He looked up, startled. "You do?"
Now that I had finally gotten it out, my heart pounded with a strange nervous reaction. I twined my fingers more firmly with his and swallowed before I could speak. "Can't you feel it?"
Ray's face softened. "Yeah. I, uh, I love you, too." His thumb stroked my hand. "And I'm sorry. I guess maybe I'm too clingy. When I'm with someone, I just want to get as close as possible to them, you know?"
"It's an understandable impulse. But I--well, I need more space than that."
I could still feel Ray's lingering uncertainty, but it sharpened into something else entirely, and I looked up.
"Looks like someone's coming out of the warehouse," Ray said.
The man coming towards us looked Hispanic, like Miguel. He looked dead tired, and I don't think he even saw us as he walked past. We followed him around the corner of the next building, out of sight of the warehouse.
"Hey, Chicago PD," Ray said and held up his badge. "Can we ask you a couple of questions?"
The man broke into a run, although we easily overtook him.
"Look, you're not a suspect, okay?" Ray said. "We just want to ask you some questions."
"No hablo Ingles," the man said, although I thought I saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes.
"You speak Spanish?" Ray asked me.
"I'm afraid I don't."
"Huh. You want to let him go?"
We did, and he hurried off as fast as he could.
"I'm betting he's an illegal immigrant. Why else would he run like that on sight?" Ray said as we headed back toward the car. "Anyway, you got something off him, right?"
I held up a single hair which I had plucked from the man's collar when we caught up with him.
"Right, do your licking thing." Ray said, sitting down in the driver's seat again.
I let my tongue touch the hair, concentrated, and got several strong impressions: The warehouse, a lot of boxes piled on top of each other. Sweat. A small run-down apartment, shared with several other men. Mattresses on the floor. The same route between warehouse and apartment walked over and over again, with hardly a single deviation.
"Huh, so that's what it feels like. Cool."
I opened my eyes. "Can you see what I'm seeing?"
Ray shook his head. "But I get the way it feels for you when you do it. At least I think so. So what are you getting?"
"The man spends most of his waking hours at the warehouse, and shares an apartment with several other men. He only goes there to sleep."
"Right. Well, that confirms Miguel's story." Ray glanced at his watch. "It's after five. You want to get dinner? We can start checking up the records for the warehouse tomorrow."
"Sounds good."
"So, um. Pizza?"
From the back seat, Dief gave a hungry growl.
***
Ray sprawled back in the couch, replete with pizza. "Mmmm. That was just what I needed."
The TV was on, but I hardly watched it; Dief was lying full and satisfied on the carpet. I myself tried to think of how I could bring up the therapist's exercises again without hurting Ray's feelings.
"What's eating at you?" Ray said, nudging at me with his elbow.
I supposed the bond did have some uses. "Well--I was wondering if you wanted to try that exercise."
I thought he would argue again, but he simply said, "Yeah, all right."
"Thank you," I said, caught off guard.
Ray sighed and looked away. "Well, it takes two--I mean, I thought about it, and if you don't want to stay bonded, it's not like I could make you. I mean, it's not like I'd want to make you even if I could, anyway." He smiled, although it was a bit forced. "Right, let's try it."
I could feel that Ray wasn't happy with it, despite his acquiescence. But I still flinched away from the constant intrusion of another mind, even if it was Ray's. I could only imagine what it would have been like to be bonded to someone else.
"Right," I said. I closed my eyes and imagined a wall around me. Not a brick wall, that felt too heavy and restrictive. Perhaps a drapery, as Dr. Stein had suggested? I imagined myself with a drapery drawn close around me. But I was constantly distracted by Ray's breathing and his presence on the couch beside me.
"Ray, are you trying?"
"I said I'd try, didn't I?" Ray said with a slight irritation.
"Perhaps if I move into the kitchen?"
"Sure."
I sat down on a chair in the kitchen, and this time I imagined myself in a tent. The fabric was thin, but tough. It could keep out wind and rain and sun, and I sat protected inside it, alone with myself. I held my breath. I couldn't feel Ray anymore.
"Fraser?" Ray came rushing back into my head.
"Did you feel it?"
"Yeah."
"Let's try again."
"All right."
I tried again, concentrating on my own heartbeat and the slow in and out of my breath. I was alone in the tent. The ground was soft and grassy underneath the fabric of the floor. Outside, I imagined the wind blowing in the leaves, perhaps a bird singing. I was alone. The world was still there outside the tent; Ray was still there, but I was alone in my mind.
I stood up slowly, being careful to maintain my even breathing, and stood in the doorway to the living room. Ray sat there on the couch with his eyes closed. He looked vulnerable and so very dear to me. Now that I couldn't feel his emotions any longer, I found myself paying more attention to other things: his eyelashes against his cheeks, the pulse at his throat, his parted lips.
Ray opened his eyes. I almost lost my concentration, but regained it with an effort. I walked up to him and touched his hand, and that proved too much. The barrier fell, and Ray was back inside my head.
***
"Frannie, could you check up on this warehouse? Who owns it, what do they store in it, that kind of thing."
"Yeah, sure," Francesca said. She glanced over at me, and I hastily looked down at the papers on Ray's desk.
"Oh, and see if the owner has a rap sheet, too. Thanks, sis!" Ray fired off a thank-you smile at her.
"Sure thing," Francesca said, ignoring her computer and leaning forward to fix her gaze on us. "So, are you guys in therapy now? What's it like? See, I took that course in psychology, and..."
"The therapist said we couldn't talk about it with anyone else," Ray said, lying through his teeth. I'm afraid I didn't contradict him.
"Oh," Francesca said, disappointed. She went back to the computer, and Ray and I went to talk to Huey, who had just settled down at his desk with a cup of coffee, a donut and a pile of paperwork.
"Don't you dare," I muttered to Dief, who was eyeing the donut. He promptly left us and went over to Francesca instead, who petted him and fed him a piece of sandwich. Dief looked back at me, as if to say "See? Here's someone who knows how to treat me right." I ignored him.
"So, we've got a guy who seems to be using a compulsion on his workers," Ray was saying.
"Yeah?" Huey said, looking up in interest.
"We thought we'd ask you for advice."
Huey nodded, pushing his paperwork to one side. "Shoot."
Ray summed up the case so far.
"So you didn't actually feel the compulsion?" Huey asked.
"Neither of us is particularly talented in that area," I said.
Dewey, who was just coming to the desk with a cup of coffee, grinned and said, "Yeah, not like Huey. You know we never even have to chase the perps--he can just snap his fingers and make them come along."
Huey sighed, long-suffering. "That's not true and you know it. We're the police. We can't just go around compelling people."
"Would sure be convenient, though," Dewey said.
"With great power comes great responsibility," I muttered under my breath.
Huey apparently heard me. "That's true enough. So, you got any info about the guy besides what the Santos kid told you?" Huey asked.
"Frannie's on it," Ray said. "You got anything yet?" he called across the room to Frannie.
"Hold your horses," Francesca said, but she got up and brought some papers with her. "The owner of the warehouse is some company called Haskell Shipping, and the owner of the company is Ronald Haskell. I can't really make out what the company does--ship things, I guess."
"How about the owner? He seem shady?" Ray asked.
"Totally shady, yeah," Francesca said, shuffling to a new paper. "He's never been convicted of anything, but it looks like he's wiggled his way out of a whole lot of charges."
She handed the papers to Ray. "Thanks, Frannie."
"You're welcome." She headed off to her computer again.
Ray leafed through the papers. "Yeah, nothing seems to stick to this guy. Possible mob ties, too."
"Mob ties?" Huey asked.
"Well, it doesn't look like he works for any of the major families, but he seems to have done business with one of them."
"Huh. Smuggling something, maybe? Or he could be up to something else illegal." Huey suggested. "Would explain why he's using compulsion on the workers, to keep them from telling on him."
Ray nodded. "Could be. There's a charge for falsification of records in his company."
"Do you think you could help us bring him in?" I asked Huey. "This isn't our area of expertise."
"Yeah, I was going to offer to go with you," Huey said. "Could get tricky otherwise--he could mess with your head."
"Thanks," Ray said. "We'll take you up on that."
When we were back at Ray's desk, Ray raised his eyebrows and said, "You finally learning not to go in without backup?"
"Yes, well. It didn't go so well last time." It was, in fact, what had caused us to bond.
Ray glanced at me sharply, but only said, "So, you want to go interview the husband in the Makarova case? Or do you have Consulate stuff to do?"
"No, I'll come along." I took my coat and hat, and Ray shrugged his jacket on.
"Hey, where's my donut?" Huey said as we headed for the door.
Diefenbaker ran purposefully out the door in front of us.
***
"How are the exercises going?" Dr. Stein asked at our next therapy session.
"Well, we can manage separation for ten or twenty minutes, but it takes concentration," I replied. "And we always slip back into the bond again."
"Still, that's very encouraging. There are people who never manage any separation at all, no matter how they try. Many of these end up moving to different parts of the country, since they can't break the bond any other way."
"So where do we go from here?" Ray asked. "I mean, we can't go through the day concentrating on this all the time."
"No, of course not. The goal here is to teach your mind to keep up the distance automatically, the way you did before you bonded. Right now you're in a state where the bond attracts your minds to each other. Once you go past a certain point, they'll start to repel each other instead. If it helps, you can think of it as being like magnetic fields."
She held up her hands, with a pen in each one. "At the moment, you're like two magnets that meet with one positive and one negative end towards each other, so you attract." The pens approached each other. Then she turned one of the pens around, and went on. "Ordinarily, people are like two positive magnetic ends meeting--they repel each other instead. Of course, this is just a metaphor. It's nothing at all like that scientifically."
I'd read a bit of magical theory, and would have loved to know more about the theoretical background of bonding, but perhaps I shouldn't waste our therapy time on such discussions. "How do we reach this point?" I asked.
"Well, the next thing to do is to increase the difficulty step by step. Try doing a simple physical task at the same time as you're keeping up the separation. Washing the dishes or sweeping the floor works well. When you've mastered that, you can try something more mentally demanding, such as reading or adding up simple sums. The next step is to try it while holding hands. As I'm sure you've noticed, skin-to-skin contact strengthens the bond." The last words could have been delivered in a suggestive way, but Dr. Stein's manner was entirely matter-of-fact. In fact, she struck me as being more like a physical therapist than one who dealt in psychological matters.
"Thank you, we'll try that," I said.
That afternoon Ray had to testify at a trial, so we couldn't go ahead with the Santos case. I spent the afternoon with my neglected Consular duties, trying not to be distracted by Ray in my head. It wouldn't be fair to try to shut him out when he might need his concentration for other things.
But that evening we tried the exercises again. It was more difficult to keep our minds separate while doing something else, and by the time we began to get the hang of it, Ray's apartment was cleaner than it had been in a long time. I scrubbed the last corner of Ray's kitchen floor with some satisfaction, too tired to keep up the distance any longer.
"I can feel that," Ray muttered.
"Feel what?"
"You like cleaning. Admit it."
"I wouldn't say that. But there is some satisfaction in seeing the results."
"I for one would take satisfaction in takeout and TV right now," Ray said and went to the living room to flop down on the couch.
"You have a point," I said, Ray's hunger waking my own.
We had Chinese food in front of the television. After we had eaten, I found myself tuning out the voices from the TV. My eyelids slid shut, and I drowsed, half-asleep. A slight sense of guilt tugged at me. Was it selfish of me to insist on breaking the bond?
***
"So how much power does the guy really have?" Ray asked, as we were preparing to move in on the warehouse. We'd obtained a search warrant a couple of days ago, but had waited for Huey and Dewey to wrap up one of their own cases, so that they could accompany us.
"It's hard to tell," Huey said. "I mean, I haven't met the guy--it depends on how strong he is, and his specific talents. But there's this image that people who can manipulate minds can do anything. That's not true. For one thing, it takes energy to do it, and it takes energy to maintain it. And often you can't maintain it at all outside your range."
Besides Huey and Dewey, we had five uniformed officers with us. We decided to go straight to the front door of the warehouse, since as far as we knew, Ronald Haskell had no reason to expect us. Ray knocked, and when there was no response, he tried the handle.
The door was locked. He huffed out a breath in irritation, then made a flicking motion with his hand. The lock clicked; the door opened.
We ventured cautiously inside. Bright, harsh lamps lit a utilitarian space with wooden crates stacked high, and workers unloading a truck at the far end of the building.
Ray stopped one of them and showed his badge. "Chicago PD. Is your boss around?"
The worker blinked and said nothing.
Huey held his hands some distance from the man's head, as if feeling his way through something the rest of us could only see as a vague halo. "He's under a compulsion. Can't break it just like this, though--it could hurt him."
"Right. I guess we won't get anything from him," Ray said. He let the man go, and he immediately went back to work.
"What's in those crates?" Dewey asked.
"I think we should find Haskell first," Huey said. "The crates aren't going anywhere, but he could be dangerous."
"Right, let's search the building," Ray said. "But let's stay in groups--we don't want to get caught alone."
"Perhaps someone should guard the door?" I said. "In case he tries to flee?"
"Yeah, good idea." Ray said. Three of the uniformed officers stayed behind to keep an eye on the workers and the two exits.
"You want to check the upper story? We'll do the offices over there." Dewey gestured with his thumb.
"Right," Ray said. One of the uniformed officers came with us as we cautiously climbed the stairs, all six senses on alert. I suppose we could have reached out to try to find our suspect's location, but that had its risks as well--we didn't know his capabilities.
There was a corridor, opening into smaller rooms, all with closed doors. We tested the doors, one by one. I could feel Ray's building tension through the bond as we opened door after door and found the rooms unoccupied. We were still bonded--we hadn't yet reached the point where separation was effortless, and we didn't want to expend concentration on anything but the case at the moment.
We both felt it at the same time, or possibly heard it: movement somewhere ahead. I quickened my pace and we reached the door at the end of the corridor. It opened onto a stairwell, and we followed the sound of footsteps upward.
The man ahead of us began to run; so did we. We burst out onto the roof not far behind him. The man ran, looking around, then spotted the fire escape stairs and headed that way. Diefenbaker and I angled to cut him off, and we cornered him.
"Go fetch the others," Ray told the officer with us. "We'll watch him until then."
"Sure," she said, and ran back the way we had come.
The cornered man was puffing heavily, trying to regain his breath. He was a heavyset man in his fifties, fairly strong--I guessed that he was on a level with Ray or myself. I pulled my power around me to prepare for a sudden attack, feeling Ray do the same.
"You're suspected of undue magical influence on your workers. Will you come with us peacefully?" I said.
The man said nothing. He was backed into a corner on the roof, and the concrete of the street was far enough below him that a fall might well be fatal.
"Come on. You're cornered and outnumbered, and our backup's on its way." Ray had his gun drawn and pointed at the man, who shrank back.
Suddenly Haskell fell to his knees, putting one hand to his chest. He was red in the face, and as I watched, he fell over to his side and lay still. Could the exertion have given him a heart attack? He looked quite unfit for running as he had done.
I moved to his side and put my hand to his throat, intending to check his pulse. His hand came up to grab my wrist, and before I could react, my own will seemed to leach out of me.
The edge. It was so close. It called to me. The man let go of me, and I obeyed the call.
"Fraser!" I heard Ray, but he sounded far away.
I was on the edge, almost over it, beginning to feel the rush of falling, when Ray grabbed my hand. The physical contact jolted me back into reality, but it was too late.
We both fell.
"Fraser!" Ray shouted. "Hold on!"
To what? I wanted to ask, but then I felt Ray drawing deeply on both our reserves of power, and there was a jolt. My hand almost slid from his, and we hung suspended in mid-air.
"I can't--" Ray gasped. I felt his hold slip, and black spots swam before my eyes as Ray tried to draw even deeper on our combined power.
I looked down, and realized that the ground wasn't more than a meter or two below us.
"Let go!" I said, and he did. We crashed to the ground in a heap, Ray falling painfully on top of me.
I couldn't do more than breathe at first, as my vision gradually cleared. Ray groaned and moved off me to slump on the ground beside me.
"Ray! Fraser! Are you all right?" Huey shouted over the edge of the roof above us. I could hear Diefenbaker barking, as well.
"Yes," I replied weakly. At least I hoped that we were.
Ray cleared his throat. "Watch it. He's dangerous."
"He's under control," Huey said.
"Ray, how did you--?" I asked.
"Well, you know, I can move things." Ray winced as he struggled to sit up. "And when I do that, I sort of brace myself against them. This was like that, except I was trying to move that ledge on the wall down. Which meant that we moved up. At least I think that's what I was doing."
"Whatever it was, it worked. And you saved my life."
"Well, I wouldn't have been strong enough if we hadn't been linked. So you could say you saved mine."
"Nonsense. I was an extra weight, as well."
Ray snorted, declining further argument on the question. "Anyway. You all right?"
"No broken bones, I think. But I'm not sure I can walk. I'm...exhausted." Even speaking was an effort.
Dief came running, and began to lick my face thoroughly. "Mmmph. Dief, please." He shifted his attentions to Ray.
One of the uniformed officers came up as well. "Are you hurt? Should we get you to a hospital?"
"No, we're fine," I said.
He looked skeptical. "I'd believe that more if you weren't still lying on the ground."
"No, really. We just need to sleep it off."
In the end, Huey and Dewey drove us to the hospital despite our protests. We were examined and told sternly to rest during the next two days, and keep from using our power as much as possible. Conveniently, they also told us that we shouldn't be alone, in case our condition should grow worse. This was a good excuse for us both to be dropped off at Ray's apartment (although I was fairly sure that Huey, at least, knew well enough what our real relationship was). They promised to see that our suspect was taken care of.
We stumbled up the stairs. I had to take one step at a time, supporting myself on the banister, and Ray was no better. One step, then another. Just to the bedroom, and then we could rest.
***
In the morning, I woke with a headache and a dry, foul-tasting mouth. I blinked at the light and groaned. It felt like a hangover, the one time I'd had one.
Ray stirred beside me. "Fuck. What did I drink last night?"
I cleared my throat. "Nothing, as far as I know."
"Oh. Yeah, now I remember."
I could feel both Ray's headache and my own, pulsing with the same stabbing rhythm, and I burrowed into Ray's side, to at least get the comfort of his body against mine.
"Thymasthenia," I murmured.
"What?"
"I believe that's what it's called. Exhaustion of the mental powers after a great exertion."
"Mm-hm."
"It's from the ancient Greek words thymos and asthenia."
"You don't say," Ray murmured against my neck.
"The first word means spirit, or soul, although it can also mean passion, and the second means weakness."
Ray snorted, and I felt him smile against me. "Yeah, my passion isn't exactly showing up right now. You're hot when you talk Greek at me, though."
It was my turn to smile. Then the phone rang, and the sound stabbed into my brain like a knife. Ray cursed and reached for the phone, and I listened to the one-sided conversation.
Ray hung up. "That was Welsh."
"I gathered as much."
"He said we're to stay at home and take it easy. And he also said he's pleased that we're still among the living."
"Yes, well, so am I."
"Me too. You realize that guy totally got us, right? Manipulative bastard."
"Mmmm." I tightened my arms around Ray, grateful that I was still alive to do it.
"How did Huey get him, anyway? Without getting tossed over the side of the building?"
I shrugged. "I'm not sure. But Huey's the expert in compulsion--he probably wouldn't fall for it as I did." I closed my eyes again, ready to sleep for the next week. "All I care about now is that he's under lock and key, and we survived."
***
Epilogue:
"Fraser, that you?" Ray said as I opened the door to his apartment (but no, it was our apartment now).
"Yes, it's me." The apartment smelled of garlic and thyme, and my stomach rumbled.
"I got off early for once, so I figured I'd make some dinner." Ray's head poked around from the kitchen.
"Sorry I'm late. That diplomatic function took longer than I'd thought." I stripped off my uniform and fetched jeans and a flannel shirt from the bedroom.
"And now you're all tense from standing straight as a rod and need a backrub, right?" Ray made a sympathetic grimace.
It was almost uncanny. We weren't bonded anymore--in fact, we'd had our last check-up with the therapist yesterday, and she'd pronounced the bond fully broken--but Ray could still read me in ways I couldn't predict.
"I--well, I wouldn't say no to a backrub."
"'Course not. But you wouldn't ask for it, either." Ray grinned and headed back into the kitchen. "C'mon, dinner's ready."
Ray set the table. One of the knives slid from his grasp, and he automatically caught it up in midair with his power. "Comes in handy sometimes," he said with a grin.
"Indeed," I said. "For more than saving our lives."
When we had dulled our immediate hunger, Ray said. "So, there's a date for the trial on the Santos case."
"Oh? Do we need to testify?"
"Nah, Huey will do it, since he's the one who examined the workers and found out what was done to them. And the Santos kid will testify, too."
"That's good. I do hope they'll use the neutralized court room, though."
Ray grinned. "Of course. I wouldn't like to see that guy use his wiles on a jury."
It had turned out that Roland Haskell was a smuggler for the mob, occasionally drugs hidden inside unlikely items, but mostly weapons and bulkier luxury items like carpets. His talents at compulsion made sure that his workers didn't betray him (and also that he turned a tidy profit, since he didn't have to pay them). We'd had to turn the workers over to the immigration authorities, though, and I didn't know what would become of them. But I had to believe that it would be a better fate than being compelled to work day and night for no money and little food and sleep.
After dinner, Ray gave me the promised backrub. His thumbs dug deep into the muscles between my shoulder blades, where the inevitable tension always settled, and I sighed into the bed covers as I began to relax.
When Ray had finished the backrub, I let myself lie still for a while before I gathered enough energy to get up again. When I did roll over on the bed, I saw Ray watching me. His face was only half lit in the dim light of the bedroom, and I couldn't read him at all.
For a brief moment, I missed our bond, even as I knew that I could never have lived like that, with Ray constantly sharing my mind. But how did people know what their partner was thinking? How did they communicate, and make a relationship last?
I sighed and rubbed at my face. The answer was obvious, of course--they talked to each other--but that didn't mean it was easy to do.
"What's eating you?"
"Ray, do you--do you still regret that we broke the bond?" I hadn't planned to say it, although it was, as Ray expressed it, something that had been eating at me.
"Oh. You've been thinking about that, huh?"
"Yes, I suppose I have."
Ray scratched absently at his stubble, apparently thinking it over. "I don't know," he said slowly. "Sometimes you have this image of something, this perfect thing that you want. But that doesn't mean that if you actually get it, it's going to be what you think it is. Oh, damn it. I'm not good at this sort of thing." Ray punched the bed in frustration.
"Oh, neither am I."
"Anyway. I thought if we were bonded, I'd have all of you, and you'd never leave me. I know, it sounds silly, and I get that if we actually were still bonded, it'd drive you nuts and you'd probably leave me faster. It might even have driven me nuts."
I settled in against Ray, and rested my hand on his chest. He was warm, and I could feel his heart beating and his power glowing quietly around him. I couldn't sense his feelings, nor could he sense mine. The bond was well and truly broken. But there was another kind of intimacy gained when one's feelings were not automatically sensed, but had to be spoken out loud, spoken by choice.
I reached out for Ray's hand. "You know that you do have me, right? I'm not going to leave."
Ray squeezed my hand. "Yeah. I know that."
Title: Push and Pull
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: R
Length: 9,700 words
Summary: Ray and Fraser are in therapy to deal with their psychic bond, and they also handle another case at the department of magical crimes.
Notes: This is a superpower AU that follows Accidental Bonding (AO3 link), which you need to read first in order to make sense of this one--it's really a continuation of that fic, rather than an independent sequel. I'm grateful to the
ficfinishing community and my first reader mizface for keeping me going, and to my beta springwoof for pushing me to make it better. "Ray, are you going to make that call?" I asked.
"I hate therapy," he said, slouching back in his seat and scrunching up his face. I could feel his grumpiness through the bond that linked us, not that I needed it in order to interpret his feelings.
"I have a feeling it isn't optional," I said. Welsh's manner had indicated as much, and RCMP procedures would have dictated therapy if two officers formed an accidental bond, too, much the way they did for an officer involved with a traumatic case.
"Yeah," Ray said, but he didn't pick up the phone.
"Would you like me to make the call?"
"Fine." Ray left, heading for the break room. I wondered why he resisted this so much, but shrugged and reached for the phone.
"Doctor Stein's office here. What can I do for you?" said a cheerful voice on the other end.
"I'm Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, calling from the 27th precinct of the CPD. I'm given to understand that Doctor Stein is a therapist who can handle issues related to, ah, gifted individuals."
"Sure, that's right. She works for the police a lot. Do you want to make an appointment?"
"Yes, please. For myself and my partner."
"Right," the receptionist said, and found a suitable time for us.
Ray came back with a coffee and a sugary snack. "Done?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
He sat down beside me, and his leg touched mine. I could feel his shift in mood, like a slow caress that brushed just above my skin. I felt my face heating. This was entirely inappropriate for the workplace. Not that we'd actually done anything improper, but...
For what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon, I wished the day was over so that we could go home and--no, don't think of that now. I stood up abruptly. "Ray, I don't believe we've finished the paperwork for the Singh case?"
He sighed, and I could feel him try to take hold of himself. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."
We spent the last hour of the shift sitting at opposite ends of the desk, thinking very deliberately about paperwork.
***
"Finally," Ray said when we were inside his apartment, door safely closed behind us. He grabbed me and pushed me up against the door with a thud. Dief slipped away into the kitchen.
"Fuck, I've wanted to do that all day," Ray muttered. I pulled him against me and kissed him, feeling our power flare up around us.
And that was that. My uniform was left scattered on the floor in a way that I would, in a different frame of mind, have considered shameful. We ended up naked on the couch, with Ray on top of me, and the touch of all that skin on mine created a rush that was more than just sexual in nature. Ray moved against me in a rhythm that brought me to my climax embarrassingly quickly, and I felt him come, too, in a loop of such intense pleasure that it left me limp and speechless.
"Mmmph," Ray mumbled, heavy on top of me. Aftershocks of power danced across our skin like small electric shocks.
"Mmm," I agreed eloquently, and moved to turn my face into the side of his neck. It felt like all the movement I could manage.
"You ever had sex like that before?" Ray asked, after a long while of silence and slowing heartbeats.
I shook my head, and shifted so that Ray slid off me and we lay side by side, still touching along the whole length of our bodies. "It would seem that simultaneous orgasms are a side effect of bonding."
Ray snorted, and I felt the muscles of his stomach and chest shift with the sound. "No kidding. Maybe being bonded isn't so bad after all."
***
I was ready to disagree by the next day. I spent most of it at the consulate catching up on administration, so as not to expose myself to the sort of distraction I had experienced at the precinct yesterday. Nevertheless Ray's state of mind constantly intruded on my own thoughts, and I had difficulty concentrating.
Ray called me in the afternoon, requesting help with a case, and he picked me up soon after that.
"You all right?" Ray asked.
"Yes, thank you," I said, and Ray poked me in the arm.
"You're not all right. I can feel you, remember?"
I scratched at my eyebrow reflexively. Yes, that was the problem. "I'm having a bit of trouble concentrating."
"You mean you keep remembering last night and can't do your job properly?" Ray grinned. He took one hand off the wheel and stroked the back of my neck, one of the few places left uncovered by my uniform. I leaned into the touch like a cat, and felt our combined power hum and come to life. I was fairly sure I was blushing.
"Well, I suppose that's part of it. But--"
"Look, I'm not sure it's all because of the bonding. I mean, when it's all...new like this, it's hard to think about anything but--well, you know." Ray smiled, looking almost shy.
I felt a rush of affection for him, and his smile grew more radiant as he felt it, too. Perhaps it would grow easier with time. And besides, our therapy appointment was tomorrow--perhaps I would get some answers then.
"So, what's the case about?" I asked.
Ray took his hand from the back of my neck (a move of which I should have approved more than I did, given that he was driving) and told me about it. "Well, there's a guy who worked at a place down at the docks, and he's saying that the employees are overworked and aren't getting paid, and not protesting because someone's working magic on them."
"That does sound serious. Have you talked to him yet?"
"Just on the phone. We're on our way to see him now."
***
Miguel Santos was a young man who looked, as my grandmother would have put it, as if he could use a hearty meal. We shook hands and introduced ourselves.
"So, tell us about it," Ray said as we sat down at the kitchen table.
"I only worked there for a month," Miguel said in accented English. "I don't remember most of it--it's all blurry."
An older woman came to set a plate of food in front of Miguel, and I was relieved to see that he did indeed have someone to see that he got some meat on his bones. She looked at us warily, but after a quick exchange with Miguel in Spanish, she offered us a meal, too. We declined, but she persuaded us to at least have coffee.
"Did you quit the job?" Fraser asked, and sipped at the coffee. One had to be polite when offered hospitality, after all.
Miguel shook his head. "I don't think I could have. My family got me out. They said I didn't talk to them, didn't come home. They got worried. I'm staying with my grandparents now, so he won't come after me. At least, I hope he won't."
"He?" Ray asked.
"The boss." Miguel shivered.
"Do you know his name?" Ray asked.
Miguel shook his head. "We just called him the boss."
"Can you describe him?" I asked.
Miguel frowned. "No. I can't seem to remember..."
Ray glanced at me, and I nodded. The man must have influenced his memory. "Well, can you tell us where you worked?"
He could, and he also told us that there were around ten other workers there, and that he'd reported this to the police for their sake. But he refused to come with us back there, which was probably wise of him.
I felt less uncomfortable with the bond now that Ray and I worked with a common purpose, I realized. Ray's focus helped my own.
"How long has it been since you were brought here?" I asked.
Miguel looked confused, but he asked his grandmother. "Four days."
"If he was going to come after you, he probably would have by now," Ray said. "So I think you're safe."
Tracking skills such as the one I had were not so common. If he had the ability to sense minds that he had tampered with, Miguel might still be outside his range--this apartment was some considerable distance from the docks. Besides, Miguel was not gifted, and would thus be harder to sense.
Or perhaps he could obtain new workers so easily that he didn't care if one went missing.
***
The next morning we went to our appointment with the therapist. Ray scowled as he picked me up at the Consulate, and I felt his mood like a small dark thundercloud threatening rain.
"Ray, do you have an aversion to therapy?" Not that I myself looked forward to it--baring my innermost thoughts and feelings to a stranger did not come easily to me. Of course, I hoped that this would not be that kind of therapy.
Ray made a grumpy sound, then sighed and shook his head like a dog coming up from the water. "Stella made me go with her to couples therapy for a while, before the divorce. It sucked. I mean, she was all articulate and stuff, and I really wasn't, and I felt like the therapist was taking her side. And I didn't like talking about our relationship with somebody else there."
"That's quite understandable. But this won't be like that. We're not--I mean, we are a couple," and here I realized that Ray and I had not actually defined our relationship yet. What if Ray didn't consider us a couple? "I mean, at least we have, ah, slept with one another, which is not a part of an ordinary partnership, and..."
I gave up trying to extricate myself. "What I'm trying to say is, this therapy concerns our professional relationship, not our private one."
Ray drummed his fingers on the steering wheel nervously. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Still, I feel weird about it."
Our therapist was a woman in her fifties with a firm handshake. Her hair was streaked with gray and bound back in a knot.
"I'm Judy Stein," she said. I could feel the glow of her gift, though she was not as strong as Ray or I was.
"Benton Fraser," I said, and Ray introduced himself, too.
"So, I understand you're from the CPD?" she said.
"Yes, that's right."
"I work with police officers a lot," Dr. Stein said, and motioned for us to sit down in the chairs in front of her desk. She smiled at us encouragingly and clasped her hands in front of her on the desk. "So, tell me what you need help with."
"My partner and I have, well, bonded. Accidentally. During a case."
"No need to be ashamed. It happens," she said, nodding. I had no doubt that she could tell by herself that we were bonded. Blushing, I wondered what else she could tell.
"So, why don't you tell me how it happened?" she asked.
Ray glanced at me. I obliged him and began telling Dr. Stein what had happened. She nodded matter-of-factly as I told the story.
"Perhaps it's surprising that it doesn't happen more often," she said. "But it's so ingrained in us to keep our integrity that it usually only happens under duress. Now, have you tried to break the bond in any way?"
"Well, we have a neutralized interview room at the station," I said. "The bond was gone when we were in there, of course, but it came back when we left the room."
She nodded. "I suppose you weren't in there very long."
Ray spoke for the first time. "It's not...I mean, it's not that bad. Being bonded, I mean."
Dr. Stein raised her eyebrows. "Most people find it intrusive. There are some people who choose to stay bonded, but they're usually couples. And even then, I have to wonder if it's healthy. Maybe you've been lucky enough to avoid this so far, but you can get caught in negative feedback loops that are hard to break."
"Negative feedback loops?" Ray asked.
"Well, any feeling can be amplified through the bond, if it spreads to the other person. For example, you might be angry with the other person. They'll feel it through the bond, and they might be angry with you in return, and it can be amplified until it's almost unbearable."
I remembered the morning after Ray and I had been bonded, when I had panicked, like a rabbit trapped in a noose.
Ray was stubborn, though. "But can't you get positive feedback loops, too?" Positive feedback loops--well, I supposed that was one way of putting it. I blushed, remembering the effect that the bond had on sex.
Dr. Stein frowned, looking at him over the rim of her glasses. "Of course, but that hardly outweighs the negative ones. They can be downright dangerous sometimes, and there are several recorded cases where people committed suicide because of a negative feedback loop."
Ray nodded. I wanted to stretch out my hand to touch him in reassurance, but could hardly do so in front of Dr. Stein.
"So, I want you to try geographical separation first. In some cases that's enough to permanently break the bond--your mind gets used to working alone again, and this keeps you from slipping into the bond once you get back."
"All right," I said. "How far away do we need to get, and for how long?"
"Well, it depends on your range. How large is it?"
"Mine is about five kilometers, and Ray's is two."
"Five kilometers? That's...around three miles, right? That's quite a lot."
"Ah, well, I'm a tracker."
She nodded. "As you know, your range is as far as you can consciously reach with your powers. But studies have shown that there's a subconscious range where traces of power linger, especially in the direction of home. So I'd like one of you to get clear outside of town over the weekend, at least twelve miles away. Two full days should be enough. Any questions?"
"So, will that break the bond?" Ray asked.
"It might. Or it might not, but we'll deal with that when it happens." She stood up and showed us out. "Good luck. I'll see you next week."
***
That evening, I volunteered to be the one to leave over the weekend. In fact, I quite looked forward to getting away from the press of people in the city. Ray looked on as I packed my camping equipment: tent, sleeping bag, camping stove and food. He didn't say anything, but I felt his unease.
"Ray, are you all right?" I said, standing up.
"Yeah, sure," he said, and pulled me in for a hug. His stubble rasped against my sensitive, newly shaven cheek, and I turned my head to kiss him. One kiss turned into several in a dizzying loop of arousal, until we were rubbing up desperately against each other.
"Don't you--oh--have a bus to catch?" Ray asked.
I glanced at my watch. "I think we have time."
"Right," Ray said, spinning us around so that I was against the wall. He went to his knees, unbuttoned the fly of my jeans, and took me into his mouth.
No, I really wouldn't last long enough that I'd need to worry about missing the bus.
Afterward, Ray drove Dief and me to the bus station. He was more relaxed, but there was still an uneasy undertone to his feelings that I couldn't put my finger on. Well, I'd let him speak of it if he wanted to. It still felt like an intrusion to be able to sense his feelings without his consent.
"Well, um. I guess I'll see you on Sunday," Ray said.
I took his hand and squeezed it, trying to reassure him--I couldn't very well be any more demonstrative than that in public. "Yes, I'll see you on Sunday."
I got on the bus, but when Dief tried to get on with me, the driver stopped him. "Hey! No pets on the bus."
Ray sighed and went to talk to the driver. "Just this once?" He slipped the driver something, presumably money. I raised my eyebrows at Ray.
"Think of it as the price of Dief's ticket, all right? You can pay me back later." I hesitated, but Ray had already slipped out of the bus.
As the bus began to drive, I felt a pang of loss from Ray that made me turn my head sharply, but he was already out of sight. I didn't quite understand it--I'd be back on Sunday, after all.
I felt Ray's presence grow fainter as the bus drove through the city. Finally it was gone altogether, with a quite noticeable snip like a scissors cutting a thread in two. I watched the outskirts of the city give way to countryside, and felt a strange mixture of relief and loss.
I asked the driver to let me off at a rest stop near a state park, and Dief and I tramped off across country to spend some time alone.
***
It was late at night on Sunday when I got back to the city. I walked from the bus station to the Consulate without feeling a trace of Ray's presence. Then, while I unpacked my things and hung the sleeping bag to air out, Ray suddenly came rushing into my head again. He wasn't feeling well. I dropped my tent on the floor and reached out for Ray in my head. I wanted to soothe away that miserable feeling.
I felt Ray coming closer, and I realized that he was probably driving over here. Sure enough, he knocked on the Consulate door after only ten minutes.
"Hey, so. You're back," Ray said.
"Yes, I'm back," I said carefully. "And we're still, well. Bonded."
"Yeah." He fell silent, but I couldn't bear it any longer.
"What's wrong?"
"What do you mean?" he said, folding his arms over his chest defensively.
I gestured between us. "Please, I can feel it."
"Fine. I just...do you really want this?"
"Want what?"
"Me." He looked belligerent, his jaw set.
I stared at him. I was tired and had been hoping to go straight to bed, but I felt on edge now, with Ray's emotions bleeding into me.
"I do," I said. "Why do you doubt it?"
"Well, you're--it's like you're shutting me out." Ray balled up his hands into fists in frustration.
"I'm just doing what the therapist said. Ray, this--this bond isn't the same thing as our relationship."
"Why do we have to do what she says?"
"Ray, please calm down." I took a step toward him and took hold of his hand in an attempt to calm him. But I could feel Ray's irritation at my, as he thought it, patronizing tone. At the touch of our hands, I felt my own annoyance flare up. Why did he have to be so irrational?
Ray's muscles were tensed under my grip. "You stop that or I swear I'm going to punch you."
I gripped his arm harder. There we stood, locked in a silent spiral of frustration and adrenaline, until Diefenbaker came to my rescue once again. He barked, then charged at us, breaking us apart.
Ray lost his balance and fell, and I felt the sharp pain as he barked his shin against a chair. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered under his breath.
"Thank you, Dief." I shook my head to clear it of Ray's pain. "Ray?" I said hesitantly. "Are you all right?"
He sighed and stood up. "Yeah. Maybe I'd better go home."
"You don't have to." I approached him and put my hand awkwardly on his shoulder. "I really do...want you." Love, I thought, it's called love. But I didn't have much practice at telling people I loved them.
"Nah, I'll go home. I've fucked this up enough already." Ray shrugged off my hand and went to the door.
"But--I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
I went to bed, and so did he. But neither of us got much sleep, and I tossed and turned with a simmering low-grade guilt and misery that came from Ray or me or both of us--I couldn't tell.
***
I had to drag myself from bed the next morning--I didn't know if it was because I hadn't slept well, or because Ray's morning habits had rubbed off on me. We had a therapy appointment first thing in the morning, and I did not feel prepared.
Still, we had to be there. I arrived a little early and waited outside for Ray. If I closed my eyes, I could track his approach, and I did so until I opened my eyes and saw him closing the door of the GTO.
"Um, hi." Ray faced me uncertainly. His cheeks were unshaven and there were shadows under his eyes. My heart went out to him, and I wanted very much to hug him. I didn't, but he sensed the impulse and smiled.
"Right, let's get this over with," he said, and we went inside.
"I take it you weren't successful," Dr. Stein said after we had exchanged some introductory pleasantries.
"Ah, no," I said.
"When did you feel the bond return? As soon as you came back within range?"
"No. It was when I came home."
She nodded. "That sounds typical. The mind forms a habit quickly, and Ray probably reached out towards your home. Anyway, with around 30% of bonded people, the bond will re-form after a short period of separation, so you're not alone."
"Does that mean we're stuck with it?" Ray asked.
Dr. Stein shook her head. "It just means we try something else. We'll start with a simple exercise. What I'm going to give you are just images, all right? So you can modify them if you find something that works better for you."
"Now, close your eyes." Her voice was calm and deep, and I obeyed. "Imagine that you are building a wall between yourself and the rest of the world. You can imagine laying bricks, or building a plank fence, or just drawing a drapery around yourself. You're not being threatened by danger or hiding from anything. You're just choosing to be by yourself, and drawing a border between you and the rest of the world."
I began to do what she told me to, but then I felt Ray disrupting my attempts. I opened my eyes. He had crossed his arms over his chest and looked rebellious.
"Ray--" I said, and his scowl deepened.
"I just don't--" He broke off and glanced at Dr. Stein.
"Am I missing something here?" she said. Neither Ray nor I said anything.
Dr. Stein leaned forward and looked us both in the eye, one after the other. "Look, I'm here to help you. But if you don't tell me what's going on, I can't do that."
"Well..." I said, and trailed off. I glanced at Ray. We hadn't told anyone yet, and I didn't want to do so without discussing it with Ray.
Dr. Stein frowned. "I may be entirely on the wrong track here, but--are you two in a relationship or something?"
I blushed and looked away, which was probably answer enough. Ray stared at her. "Are we that obvious?"
"Probably not, no. My talent lies in reading other people's power--it's why I became a therapist. And the way you two relate to each other didn't seem typical of police partners." She sighed, and I thought she looked a little disapproving. I didn't know whether it was homophobia or just the added complication in our situation, although I hoped it was the latter.
"So is that going to change anything?" Ray asked.
"Don't worry, I don't care in the least that you're both men," Dr. Stein said, "And everything you tell me is confidential. It's not my business--even if I'm fairly sure the CPD frowns on couples working as partners."
I felt relieved, and for a moment, her directness reminded me of my grandmother.
She went on, "This isn't couples therapy, but let's at least try to untangle this. Ray, you seemed to feel uncomfortable with the exercise we tried. Was anything upsetting you?"
Ray looked stubborn, and I felt his reluctance to speak. Finally he said, "I don't want to break the bond."
"All right. How do you feel about it?" She turned to me.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. What did I want? I couldn't deny that it had been a relief to be alone in my own head again when I'd gone away over the weekend. But I felt it would be a betrayal of Ray to say so without talking to him first.
"You don't have to decide anything now," Dr. Stein said. "But I have to insist on teaching you both how to break the bond. It's for your own safety. And if you decide later to bond again, you can. Even if I would strongly advise against it."
"Yeah, I got that," Ray muttered.
"So let's try that exercise again."
***
It felt like a relief to go back to police work in the afternoon--to have a common goal with no personal issues involved.
"Right, so let's get on the Santos case," Ray said.
"Yes. Perhaps we ought to try getting in contact with one of the other workers?"
We drove down towards the docks and parked so that we could keep an eye on the warehouse where Manuel Santos had worked, being careful not to get too close to the building.
After two hours had passed and nothing had happened at the warehouse except for a delivery of some sort of goods, Ray sighed and shifted around in his seat. "Maybe he keeps the workers locked up in the warehouse so they can work around the clock."
"It's possible, I suppose. But let's give it a bit more time." Dief shifted in the back seat, and I turned to apologize to him. "I'm sorry, I can't let you out in this neighborhood. I promise you we'll go for a long run soon."
"Hey, he had all that hiking this weekend." Ray stretched and tried to find more space for his long legs. "Fuck, I'm bored."
I had to admit his profanity gave me some ideas.
Ray felt it and grinned. "In a public place? Nice to know you get horny like the rest of us."
I felt my face flushing. "I didn't intend to act on it."
"Hey, I thought it was an awesome idea." Ray grin grew wider, and he slouched down in the seat, splaying his legs apart. The invisible fingers of Ray's power trailed down my chest, tweaking my nipples. I groaned in frustration and cast around for another subject of conversation before the feedback between us grew unbearable.
"Perhaps we should try some of those exercises the therapist gave us?"
Ray's face fell, and the mood was dispersed. "Yeah, I guess."
"Ray, I...please don't take this the wrong way, but I think I do want to break the bond. I can't live with someone else constantly inside my head. I'm used to solitude. I even had a hard time adjusting to living in the city at first, and I--"
I interrupted myself. Ray looked down, but I could feel his distress.
"No! Please listen to me." I reached out my hand to take Ray's hand in mine. "I love you."
He looked up, startled. "You do?"
Now that I had finally gotten it out, my heart pounded with a strange nervous reaction. I twined my fingers more firmly with his and swallowed before I could speak. "Can't you feel it?"
Ray's face softened. "Yeah. I, uh, I love you, too." His thumb stroked my hand. "And I'm sorry. I guess maybe I'm too clingy. When I'm with someone, I just want to get as close as possible to them, you know?"
"It's an understandable impulse. But I--well, I need more space than that."
I could still feel Ray's lingering uncertainty, but it sharpened into something else entirely, and I looked up.
"Looks like someone's coming out of the warehouse," Ray said.
The man coming towards us looked Hispanic, like Miguel. He looked dead tired, and I don't think he even saw us as he walked past. We followed him around the corner of the next building, out of sight of the warehouse.
"Hey, Chicago PD," Ray said and held up his badge. "Can we ask you a couple of questions?"
The man broke into a run, although we easily overtook him.
"Look, you're not a suspect, okay?" Ray said. "We just want to ask you some questions."
"No hablo Ingles," the man said, although I thought I saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes.
"You speak Spanish?" Ray asked me.
"I'm afraid I don't."
"Huh. You want to let him go?"
We did, and he hurried off as fast as he could.
"I'm betting he's an illegal immigrant. Why else would he run like that on sight?" Ray said as we headed back toward the car. "Anyway, you got something off him, right?"
I held up a single hair which I had plucked from the man's collar when we caught up with him.
"Right, do your licking thing." Ray said, sitting down in the driver's seat again.
I let my tongue touch the hair, concentrated, and got several strong impressions: The warehouse, a lot of boxes piled on top of each other. Sweat. A small run-down apartment, shared with several other men. Mattresses on the floor. The same route between warehouse and apartment walked over and over again, with hardly a single deviation.
"Huh, so that's what it feels like. Cool."
I opened my eyes. "Can you see what I'm seeing?"
Ray shook his head. "But I get the way it feels for you when you do it. At least I think so. So what are you getting?"
"The man spends most of his waking hours at the warehouse, and shares an apartment with several other men. He only goes there to sleep."
"Right. Well, that confirms Miguel's story." Ray glanced at his watch. "It's after five. You want to get dinner? We can start checking up the records for the warehouse tomorrow."
"Sounds good."
"So, um. Pizza?"
From the back seat, Dief gave a hungry growl.
***
Ray sprawled back in the couch, replete with pizza. "Mmmm. That was just what I needed."
The TV was on, but I hardly watched it; Dief was lying full and satisfied on the carpet. I myself tried to think of how I could bring up the therapist's exercises again without hurting Ray's feelings.
"What's eating at you?" Ray said, nudging at me with his elbow.
I supposed the bond did have some uses. "Well--I was wondering if you wanted to try that exercise."
I thought he would argue again, but he simply said, "Yeah, all right."
"Thank you," I said, caught off guard.
Ray sighed and looked away. "Well, it takes two--I mean, I thought about it, and if you don't want to stay bonded, it's not like I could make you. I mean, it's not like I'd want to make you even if I could, anyway." He smiled, although it was a bit forced. "Right, let's try it."
I could feel that Ray wasn't happy with it, despite his acquiescence. But I still flinched away from the constant intrusion of another mind, even if it was Ray's. I could only imagine what it would have been like to be bonded to someone else.
"Right," I said. I closed my eyes and imagined a wall around me. Not a brick wall, that felt too heavy and restrictive. Perhaps a drapery, as Dr. Stein had suggested? I imagined myself with a drapery drawn close around me. But I was constantly distracted by Ray's breathing and his presence on the couch beside me.
"Ray, are you trying?"
"I said I'd try, didn't I?" Ray said with a slight irritation.
"Perhaps if I move into the kitchen?"
"Sure."
I sat down on a chair in the kitchen, and this time I imagined myself in a tent. The fabric was thin, but tough. It could keep out wind and rain and sun, and I sat protected inside it, alone with myself. I held my breath. I couldn't feel Ray anymore.
"Fraser?" Ray came rushing back into my head.
"Did you feel it?"
"Yeah."
"Let's try again."
"All right."
I tried again, concentrating on my own heartbeat and the slow in and out of my breath. I was alone in the tent. The ground was soft and grassy underneath the fabric of the floor. Outside, I imagined the wind blowing in the leaves, perhaps a bird singing. I was alone. The world was still there outside the tent; Ray was still there, but I was alone in my mind.
I stood up slowly, being careful to maintain my even breathing, and stood in the doorway to the living room. Ray sat there on the couch with his eyes closed. He looked vulnerable and so very dear to me. Now that I couldn't feel his emotions any longer, I found myself paying more attention to other things: his eyelashes against his cheeks, the pulse at his throat, his parted lips.
Ray opened his eyes. I almost lost my concentration, but regained it with an effort. I walked up to him and touched his hand, and that proved too much. The barrier fell, and Ray was back inside my head.
***
"Frannie, could you check up on this warehouse? Who owns it, what do they store in it, that kind of thing."
"Yeah, sure," Francesca said. She glanced over at me, and I hastily looked down at the papers on Ray's desk.
"Oh, and see if the owner has a rap sheet, too. Thanks, sis!" Ray fired off a thank-you smile at her.
"Sure thing," Francesca said, ignoring her computer and leaning forward to fix her gaze on us. "So, are you guys in therapy now? What's it like? See, I took that course in psychology, and..."
"The therapist said we couldn't talk about it with anyone else," Ray said, lying through his teeth. I'm afraid I didn't contradict him.
"Oh," Francesca said, disappointed. She went back to the computer, and Ray and I went to talk to Huey, who had just settled down at his desk with a cup of coffee, a donut and a pile of paperwork.
"Don't you dare," I muttered to Dief, who was eyeing the donut. He promptly left us and went over to Francesca instead, who petted him and fed him a piece of sandwich. Dief looked back at me, as if to say "See? Here's someone who knows how to treat me right." I ignored him.
"So, we've got a guy who seems to be using a compulsion on his workers," Ray was saying.
"Yeah?" Huey said, looking up in interest.
"We thought we'd ask you for advice."
Huey nodded, pushing his paperwork to one side. "Shoot."
Ray summed up the case so far.
"So you didn't actually feel the compulsion?" Huey asked.
"Neither of us is particularly talented in that area," I said.
Dewey, who was just coming to the desk with a cup of coffee, grinned and said, "Yeah, not like Huey. You know we never even have to chase the perps--he can just snap his fingers and make them come along."
Huey sighed, long-suffering. "That's not true and you know it. We're the police. We can't just go around compelling people."
"Would sure be convenient, though," Dewey said.
"With great power comes great responsibility," I muttered under my breath.
Huey apparently heard me. "That's true enough. So, you got any info about the guy besides what the Santos kid told you?" Huey asked.
"Frannie's on it," Ray said. "You got anything yet?" he called across the room to Frannie.
"Hold your horses," Francesca said, but she got up and brought some papers with her. "The owner of the warehouse is some company called Haskell Shipping, and the owner of the company is Ronald Haskell. I can't really make out what the company does--ship things, I guess."
"How about the owner? He seem shady?" Ray asked.
"Totally shady, yeah," Francesca said, shuffling to a new paper. "He's never been convicted of anything, but it looks like he's wiggled his way out of a whole lot of charges."
She handed the papers to Ray. "Thanks, Frannie."
"You're welcome." She headed off to her computer again.
Ray leafed through the papers. "Yeah, nothing seems to stick to this guy. Possible mob ties, too."
"Mob ties?" Huey asked.
"Well, it doesn't look like he works for any of the major families, but he seems to have done business with one of them."
"Huh. Smuggling something, maybe? Or he could be up to something else illegal." Huey suggested. "Would explain why he's using compulsion on the workers, to keep them from telling on him."
Ray nodded. "Could be. There's a charge for falsification of records in his company."
"Do you think you could help us bring him in?" I asked Huey. "This isn't our area of expertise."
"Yeah, I was going to offer to go with you," Huey said. "Could get tricky otherwise--he could mess with your head."
"Thanks," Ray said. "We'll take you up on that."
When we were back at Ray's desk, Ray raised his eyebrows and said, "You finally learning not to go in without backup?"
"Yes, well. It didn't go so well last time." It was, in fact, what had caused us to bond.
Ray glanced at me sharply, but only said, "So, you want to go interview the husband in the Makarova case? Or do you have Consulate stuff to do?"
"No, I'll come along." I took my coat and hat, and Ray shrugged his jacket on.
"Hey, where's my donut?" Huey said as we headed for the door.
Diefenbaker ran purposefully out the door in front of us.
***
"How are the exercises going?" Dr. Stein asked at our next therapy session.
"Well, we can manage separation for ten or twenty minutes, but it takes concentration," I replied. "And we always slip back into the bond again."
"Still, that's very encouraging. There are people who never manage any separation at all, no matter how they try. Many of these end up moving to different parts of the country, since they can't break the bond any other way."
"So where do we go from here?" Ray asked. "I mean, we can't go through the day concentrating on this all the time."
"No, of course not. The goal here is to teach your mind to keep up the distance automatically, the way you did before you bonded. Right now you're in a state where the bond attracts your minds to each other. Once you go past a certain point, they'll start to repel each other instead. If it helps, you can think of it as being like magnetic fields."
She held up her hands, with a pen in each one. "At the moment, you're like two magnets that meet with one positive and one negative end towards each other, so you attract." The pens approached each other. Then she turned one of the pens around, and went on. "Ordinarily, people are like two positive magnetic ends meeting--they repel each other instead. Of course, this is just a metaphor. It's nothing at all like that scientifically."
I'd read a bit of magical theory, and would have loved to know more about the theoretical background of bonding, but perhaps I shouldn't waste our therapy time on such discussions. "How do we reach this point?" I asked.
"Well, the next thing to do is to increase the difficulty step by step. Try doing a simple physical task at the same time as you're keeping up the separation. Washing the dishes or sweeping the floor works well. When you've mastered that, you can try something more mentally demanding, such as reading or adding up simple sums. The next step is to try it while holding hands. As I'm sure you've noticed, skin-to-skin contact strengthens the bond." The last words could have been delivered in a suggestive way, but Dr. Stein's manner was entirely matter-of-fact. In fact, she struck me as being more like a physical therapist than one who dealt in psychological matters.
"Thank you, we'll try that," I said.
That afternoon Ray had to testify at a trial, so we couldn't go ahead with the Santos case. I spent the afternoon with my neglected Consular duties, trying not to be distracted by Ray in my head. It wouldn't be fair to try to shut him out when he might need his concentration for other things.
But that evening we tried the exercises again. It was more difficult to keep our minds separate while doing something else, and by the time we began to get the hang of it, Ray's apartment was cleaner than it had been in a long time. I scrubbed the last corner of Ray's kitchen floor with some satisfaction, too tired to keep up the distance any longer.
"I can feel that," Ray muttered.
"Feel what?"
"You like cleaning. Admit it."
"I wouldn't say that. But there is some satisfaction in seeing the results."
"I for one would take satisfaction in takeout and TV right now," Ray said and went to the living room to flop down on the couch.
"You have a point," I said, Ray's hunger waking my own.
We had Chinese food in front of the television. After we had eaten, I found myself tuning out the voices from the TV. My eyelids slid shut, and I drowsed, half-asleep. A slight sense of guilt tugged at me. Was it selfish of me to insist on breaking the bond?
***
"So how much power does the guy really have?" Ray asked, as we were preparing to move in on the warehouse. We'd obtained a search warrant a couple of days ago, but had waited for Huey and Dewey to wrap up one of their own cases, so that they could accompany us.
"It's hard to tell," Huey said. "I mean, I haven't met the guy--it depends on how strong he is, and his specific talents. But there's this image that people who can manipulate minds can do anything. That's not true. For one thing, it takes energy to do it, and it takes energy to maintain it. And often you can't maintain it at all outside your range."
Besides Huey and Dewey, we had five uniformed officers with us. We decided to go straight to the front door of the warehouse, since as far as we knew, Ronald Haskell had no reason to expect us. Ray knocked, and when there was no response, he tried the handle.
The door was locked. He huffed out a breath in irritation, then made a flicking motion with his hand. The lock clicked; the door opened.
We ventured cautiously inside. Bright, harsh lamps lit a utilitarian space with wooden crates stacked high, and workers unloading a truck at the far end of the building.
Ray stopped one of them and showed his badge. "Chicago PD. Is your boss around?"
The worker blinked and said nothing.
Huey held his hands some distance from the man's head, as if feeling his way through something the rest of us could only see as a vague halo. "He's under a compulsion. Can't break it just like this, though--it could hurt him."
"Right. I guess we won't get anything from him," Ray said. He let the man go, and he immediately went back to work.
"What's in those crates?" Dewey asked.
"I think we should find Haskell first," Huey said. "The crates aren't going anywhere, but he could be dangerous."
"Right, let's search the building," Ray said. "But let's stay in groups--we don't want to get caught alone."
"Perhaps someone should guard the door?" I said. "In case he tries to flee?"
"Yeah, good idea." Ray said. Three of the uniformed officers stayed behind to keep an eye on the workers and the two exits.
"You want to check the upper story? We'll do the offices over there." Dewey gestured with his thumb.
"Right," Ray said. One of the uniformed officers came with us as we cautiously climbed the stairs, all six senses on alert. I suppose we could have reached out to try to find our suspect's location, but that had its risks as well--we didn't know his capabilities.
There was a corridor, opening into smaller rooms, all with closed doors. We tested the doors, one by one. I could feel Ray's building tension through the bond as we opened door after door and found the rooms unoccupied. We were still bonded--we hadn't yet reached the point where separation was effortless, and we didn't want to expend concentration on anything but the case at the moment.
We both felt it at the same time, or possibly heard it: movement somewhere ahead. I quickened my pace and we reached the door at the end of the corridor. It opened onto a stairwell, and we followed the sound of footsteps upward.
The man ahead of us began to run; so did we. We burst out onto the roof not far behind him. The man ran, looking around, then spotted the fire escape stairs and headed that way. Diefenbaker and I angled to cut him off, and we cornered him.
"Go fetch the others," Ray told the officer with us. "We'll watch him until then."
"Sure," she said, and ran back the way we had come.
The cornered man was puffing heavily, trying to regain his breath. He was a heavyset man in his fifties, fairly strong--I guessed that he was on a level with Ray or myself. I pulled my power around me to prepare for a sudden attack, feeling Ray do the same.
"You're suspected of undue magical influence on your workers. Will you come with us peacefully?" I said.
The man said nothing. He was backed into a corner on the roof, and the concrete of the street was far enough below him that a fall might well be fatal.
"Come on. You're cornered and outnumbered, and our backup's on its way." Ray had his gun drawn and pointed at the man, who shrank back.
Suddenly Haskell fell to his knees, putting one hand to his chest. He was red in the face, and as I watched, he fell over to his side and lay still. Could the exertion have given him a heart attack? He looked quite unfit for running as he had done.
I moved to his side and put my hand to his throat, intending to check his pulse. His hand came up to grab my wrist, and before I could react, my own will seemed to leach out of me.
The edge. It was so close. It called to me. The man let go of me, and I obeyed the call.
"Fraser!" I heard Ray, but he sounded far away.
I was on the edge, almost over it, beginning to feel the rush of falling, when Ray grabbed my hand. The physical contact jolted me back into reality, but it was too late.
We both fell.
"Fraser!" Ray shouted. "Hold on!"
To what? I wanted to ask, but then I felt Ray drawing deeply on both our reserves of power, and there was a jolt. My hand almost slid from his, and we hung suspended in mid-air.
"I can't--" Ray gasped. I felt his hold slip, and black spots swam before my eyes as Ray tried to draw even deeper on our combined power.
I looked down, and realized that the ground wasn't more than a meter or two below us.
"Let go!" I said, and he did. We crashed to the ground in a heap, Ray falling painfully on top of me.
I couldn't do more than breathe at first, as my vision gradually cleared. Ray groaned and moved off me to slump on the ground beside me.
"Ray! Fraser! Are you all right?" Huey shouted over the edge of the roof above us. I could hear Diefenbaker barking, as well.
"Yes," I replied weakly. At least I hoped that we were.
Ray cleared his throat. "Watch it. He's dangerous."
"He's under control," Huey said.
"Ray, how did you--?" I asked.
"Well, you know, I can move things." Ray winced as he struggled to sit up. "And when I do that, I sort of brace myself against them. This was like that, except I was trying to move that ledge on the wall down. Which meant that we moved up. At least I think that's what I was doing."
"Whatever it was, it worked. And you saved my life."
"Well, I wouldn't have been strong enough if we hadn't been linked. So you could say you saved mine."
"Nonsense. I was an extra weight, as well."
Ray snorted, declining further argument on the question. "Anyway. You all right?"
"No broken bones, I think. But I'm not sure I can walk. I'm...exhausted." Even speaking was an effort.
Dief came running, and began to lick my face thoroughly. "Mmmph. Dief, please." He shifted his attentions to Ray.
One of the uniformed officers came up as well. "Are you hurt? Should we get you to a hospital?"
"No, we're fine," I said.
He looked skeptical. "I'd believe that more if you weren't still lying on the ground."
"No, really. We just need to sleep it off."
In the end, Huey and Dewey drove us to the hospital despite our protests. We were examined and told sternly to rest during the next two days, and keep from using our power as much as possible. Conveniently, they also told us that we shouldn't be alone, in case our condition should grow worse. This was a good excuse for us both to be dropped off at Ray's apartment (although I was fairly sure that Huey, at least, knew well enough what our real relationship was). They promised to see that our suspect was taken care of.
We stumbled up the stairs. I had to take one step at a time, supporting myself on the banister, and Ray was no better. One step, then another. Just to the bedroom, and then we could rest.
***
In the morning, I woke with a headache and a dry, foul-tasting mouth. I blinked at the light and groaned. It felt like a hangover, the one time I'd had one.
Ray stirred beside me. "Fuck. What did I drink last night?"
I cleared my throat. "Nothing, as far as I know."
"Oh. Yeah, now I remember."
I could feel both Ray's headache and my own, pulsing with the same stabbing rhythm, and I burrowed into Ray's side, to at least get the comfort of his body against mine.
"Thymasthenia," I murmured.
"What?"
"I believe that's what it's called. Exhaustion of the mental powers after a great exertion."
"Mm-hm."
"It's from the ancient Greek words thymos and asthenia."
"You don't say," Ray murmured against my neck.
"The first word means spirit, or soul, although it can also mean passion, and the second means weakness."
Ray snorted, and I felt him smile against me. "Yeah, my passion isn't exactly showing up right now. You're hot when you talk Greek at me, though."
It was my turn to smile. Then the phone rang, and the sound stabbed into my brain like a knife. Ray cursed and reached for the phone, and I listened to the one-sided conversation.
Ray hung up. "That was Welsh."
"I gathered as much."
"He said we're to stay at home and take it easy. And he also said he's pleased that we're still among the living."
"Yes, well, so am I."
"Me too. You realize that guy totally got us, right? Manipulative bastard."
"Mmmm." I tightened my arms around Ray, grateful that I was still alive to do it.
"How did Huey get him, anyway? Without getting tossed over the side of the building?"
I shrugged. "I'm not sure. But Huey's the expert in compulsion--he probably wouldn't fall for it as I did." I closed my eyes again, ready to sleep for the next week. "All I care about now is that he's under lock and key, and we survived."
***
Epilogue:
"Fraser, that you?" Ray said as I opened the door to his apartment (but no, it was our apartment now).
"Yes, it's me." The apartment smelled of garlic and thyme, and my stomach rumbled.
"I got off early for once, so I figured I'd make some dinner." Ray's head poked around from the kitchen.
"Sorry I'm late. That diplomatic function took longer than I'd thought." I stripped off my uniform and fetched jeans and a flannel shirt from the bedroom.
"And now you're all tense from standing straight as a rod and need a backrub, right?" Ray made a sympathetic grimace.
It was almost uncanny. We weren't bonded anymore--in fact, we'd had our last check-up with the therapist yesterday, and she'd pronounced the bond fully broken--but Ray could still read me in ways I couldn't predict.
"I--well, I wouldn't say no to a backrub."
"'Course not. But you wouldn't ask for it, either." Ray grinned and headed back into the kitchen. "C'mon, dinner's ready."
Ray set the table. One of the knives slid from his grasp, and he automatically caught it up in midair with his power. "Comes in handy sometimes," he said with a grin.
"Indeed," I said. "For more than saving our lives."
When we had dulled our immediate hunger, Ray said. "So, there's a date for the trial on the Santos case."
"Oh? Do we need to testify?"
"Nah, Huey will do it, since he's the one who examined the workers and found out what was done to them. And the Santos kid will testify, too."
"That's good. I do hope they'll use the neutralized court room, though."
Ray grinned. "Of course. I wouldn't like to see that guy use his wiles on a jury."
It had turned out that Roland Haskell was a smuggler for the mob, occasionally drugs hidden inside unlikely items, but mostly weapons and bulkier luxury items like carpets. His talents at compulsion made sure that his workers didn't betray him (and also that he turned a tidy profit, since he didn't have to pay them). We'd had to turn the workers over to the immigration authorities, though, and I didn't know what would become of them. But I had to believe that it would be a better fate than being compelled to work day and night for no money and little food and sleep.
After dinner, Ray gave me the promised backrub. His thumbs dug deep into the muscles between my shoulder blades, where the inevitable tension always settled, and I sighed into the bed covers as I began to relax.
When Ray had finished the backrub, I let myself lie still for a while before I gathered enough energy to get up again. When I did roll over on the bed, I saw Ray watching me. His face was only half lit in the dim light of the bedroom, and I couldn't read him at all.
For a brief moment, I missed our bond, even as I knew that I could never have lived like that, with Ray constantly sharing my mind. But how did people know what their partner was thinking? How did they communicate, and make a relationship last?
I sighed and rubbed at my face. The answer was obvious, of course--they talked to each other--but that didn't mean it was easy to do.
"What's eating you?"
"Ray, do you--do you still regret that we broke the bond?" I hadn't planned to say it, although it was, as Ray expressed it, something that had been eating at me.
"Oh. You've been thinking about that, huh?"
"Yes, I suppose I have."
Ray scratched absently at his stubble, apparently thinking it over. "I don't know," he said slowly. "Sometimes you have this image of something, this perfect thing that you want. But that doesn't mean that if you actually get it, it's going to be what you think it is. Oh, damn it. I'm not good at this sort of thing." Ray punched the bed in frustration.
"Oh, neither am I."
"Anyway. I thought if we were bonded, I'd have all of you, and you'd never leave me. I know, it sounds silly, and I get that if we actually were still bonded, it'd drive you nuts and you'd probably leave me faster. It might even have driven me nuts."
I settled in against Ray, and rested my hand on his chest. He was warm, and I could feel his heart beating and his power glowing quietly around him. I couldn't sense his feelings, nor could he sense mine. The bond was well and truly broken. But there was another kind of intimacy gained when one's feelings were not automatically sensed, but had to be spoken out loud, spoken by choice.
I reached out for Ray's hand. "You know that you do have me, right? I'm not going to leave."
Ray squeezed my hand. "Yeah. I know that."
