"You still think it's a coincidence, detective, or are you maybe willing to believe the mob got a contract out on you?" Welsh asked, leaning back in his chair until it creaked ominously.

Ray slumped further down into the sofa, cradling his bruised arm protectively. Much though he would like to continue to deny it, three near misses inside a week meant that there was definitely a price on his head. This last attempt to mow him down, in broad daylight, with a black sedan had come a little too close to succeeding for comfort.

Welsh peered at him over the rim of his glasses. "It's the Carboni Drugs case. Carboni don't want you putting the finger on him in court next week."

"Yeah, maybe, " Ray mumbled. He knew where this was heading and he'd already turned down the whole limited police protection gig once. If Carboni wanted him gone, then he was as good as gone. Hiding wasn’t gonna do any good. "Or maybe I just got cursed by a gypsy or something."

"Yeah, and I'm the tooth fairy." Welsh rubbed his tired eyes with the back of his hand. "Look, Ray I know you don't like the idea, but disappear until it blows over, huh? I don’t think my nerves can stand much more of this…"

"No way!" Ray exploded upwards, wincing at the pain that shot through his arm. "I am not afraid of these guys. Let 'em do their worst.

Welsh opened his mouth to make a, no doubt, sharply witty reply, but before the words could leave his mouth, a polite rap on the door of his office interrupted. "Come in Constable," he bellowed, recognising the red blob through the frosted glass panel.

"Ah, Ray, you're here also. That saves time…" Fraser began without even so much as bidding them 'good day' which, in retrospect, should have warned Ray that something was up.

"And I'm fine, thanks fer askin'" Ray groused, rubbing at his arm in the hope that his partner might actually notice his latest injury and sympathise or something. It had been a busy week for Fraser at the Consulate, and Ray hadn’t seen much of him in that time, but he would rather gouge his eyes out with a spoon than admit he’d missed having Fraser around. Not to his face anyway.

"Good to know, Ray," Fraser nodded distractedly at him and continued into the office, closing the door behind himself. "Lieutenant, I've come to let you, and of course Ray, know, that I won't be able to fulfil my role as liaison to the department for the next week. I'll be out of the country."

That got Ray's full attention. Fraser was going away? Since when? He hadn’t said anything at the weekend when they had watched a hockey game at Ray's place. A sudden, and somewhat alarming jolt of panic shot through Ray at the thought that maybe Fraser was homesick again, and this time, he might not come back. He flopped back down onto the sofa, focused on his partner.

"Taking a vacation, Constable?" Welsh asked, removing his glasses and laying them on the desk.

"Um, actually, no, not as such,” Fraser began to rub his eyebrow, another sure tell that something queer was going on. "I've received a letter from a solicitor in Aberdeen. Apparently they are handling my Great Uncle Callum's last will and testament, and have asked me to fly over for the reading…"

"Whoa, whoa, back up there, Frase. Aberdeen - as in Aberdeen, Scotland?" Ray found himself standing up, and squaring off to his partner. Even the surge of relief that it wasn’t Canada didn’t totally alleviate his fears. Scotland was like… the other side of the fucking world. At Fraser's nod, Ray shook his head and began pacing. "Since when you got relatives across the pond?"

Fraser watched him warily. "Well, actually since around the 14th century I believe. The Fraser's are a well-established clan in Scotland. At any rate, the story goes that in the mid nineteen forties, my great grandfather, Alexander Fraser divorced his wife and left her and his two young sons in Scotland, to emigrate to Canada. Once there, he met and married a local girl from Tuktoyaktuk … Ray, are you even listening to me?"

Ray blinked a couple of times, trying to make sense of Fraser's words.

"I'm listening, I'm listening!" he insisted. "Fraser, your family are totally fucked up, you know that? First you find out you got a half sister, then a whole bunch of Celtic cousins…"

"Ah," Fraser said regretfully. "No cousins at all I’m afraid. You see Alexander's first wife never remarried. And her younger son, Tiberius eventually came to Canada too, when he was old enough."

"That's the nut-job with the cabbage leaves, right?" Ray blurted.

Fraser's blush almost rivalled the hue of his serge. "The very same. And it would appear that the eldest son, my great uncle Callum, never married either, so I am the last surviving Fraser descendant. Maggie is still officially a Mackenzie."

Ray stopped pacing and flopped down onto the sofa again. "So, this old guy's shuffled off, and you gotta fly half way across the world to listen to some crusty old lawyers tell you he's left his money to the Cat's Protection League, or what?"

Fraser, in a complete breakdown of normal Mountie protocol, seated himself beside Ray without being asked and sighed deeply. "Essentially, yes. According to my Father, the Scottish side of the family were as poor as church mice. He probably lived in a ‘Butt 'n' Ben’, and I'm going to have to find homes for his goats, sheep and whatnot."

“Buttin’ who?” Ray asked in confusion.

“A one roomed croft, Ray. I’ll explain later.”

"So how long you figure this trip will take, Constable?" Welsh asked, managing to sound interested, which set off alarm bells inside Ray’s skull.

"I've been granted a week's leave, sir. I'd like to see a little bit of the old country while I'm there, and it seems that recent legislation allows me to take Diefenbaker with me after I've collected the appropriate paperwork from my veterinarian. I hope you can spare me that long?"

Welsh placed his glasses back on his nose and peered at Ray, who was definitely getting a bad feeling about all this. "Oh sure, we can manage. And as a matter of fact, you could do us both a favour and take Ray here along with you. I've been trying to tell him he needs to take a vacation."

Ray would have immediately wriggled his way out of it had it not been for the look on Fraser's face. He looked so damned pleased. And he couldn't bear to be the one to take that look off Fraser’s face.

Fraser's smile lit up the whole damned room. "Really? Well Ray, that would be delightful! Let me get Turnbull to book another seat on the plane. The flight leaves tonight at 11pm. I'm afraid I couldn’t get a direct flight to Aberdeen so we'll have to take the train from Edinburgh…"

As Fraser continued to spew forth itinerary information, Ray slumped further down into the sofa and absently began to rub his sore arm again. Scotland in November, huh? He figured the weather there couldn’t be any worse that it was in Chicago in November but still, to be on the safe side, he’d borrow some of those thermal long john things that Fraser liked so much. And then any hope of hearing what Fraser was saying evaporated into a hazy daydream involving Fraser, red long johns and a blazing fire.

***

"Jeez what the hell is this?" Ray made a face as the semi-congealed grey gloop on his spoon plopped back into the dish.

"It's called Scott's Porridge Oats, Ray and its actually very tasty. Perhaps a little salty for most palates but…"

"Looks like the stuff I used to grease the gears on my bike." Ray shoved the dish to the side and lifted a round flat biscuit to his nose, sniffing it suspiciously.

"Oat cake," Fraser informed.

"Guess the Scots got real healthy bowels, huh?" he observed as the flight attendant finally appeared with a pot of coffee. As she topped up Ray's cup for the fourth time since they had taken off, Fraser liberated his untouched porridge and wolfed it down.

Ray shook his head. Didn’t seem to be a damned thing the Mountie wouldn’t eat. He let his head fall back against the headrest and gazed out of the tiny window.

Ray didn’t get the chance to fly much, so the sight of fields of fluffy white clouds below him, and the uninterrupted blue sky all around still had the ability to fill him with awe. At least it did when he was safely inside a nice, pressurised, warm cabin. Not so much when he was clinging to the wing of a plane, but that was an entirely different story and not one he wanted to dwell on. That whole period of his life seemed like a dream now, even though they had only been back in Chicago for a few months.

"Are you going to eat that?"

Blinking back to reality, Ray followed Fraser's pointing finger to the untouched oatcake. "Knock yourself out, buddy. I'll grab something at the IHOP when we land. That is, if they got a pancake place here?"

Fraser shrugged and began to spread butter on the oatcake. "I would imagine so, Ray. Edinburgh is the capital city of Scotland. However, I doubt we'll have time. The flight was delayed for four hours remember?"

Oh yeah, he remembered. Stuck in an airport departure lounge with Fraser regaling him with tales of bloodthirsty Scottish history. That was four hours of his life he would never see again.

Fraser checked his watch and sighed. “The reading of the will was scheduled for two hours ago. I’m afraid the office will be closed by now.”

That was fine by Ray. He'd barely gotten more than half an hour's sleep on the eight hour flight what with the kid in the seat behind kicking him in the kidneys and wailing or throwing up every time they hit a bit of turbulence. Fraser hadn't let him pull his gun on the kid either. Of course, he wasn’t actually carrying a gun, but that was entirely beside the point.

Fraser, on the other hand, had slept through both in-flight movies, and several passes of the drinks cart. He was bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and depressingly cheerful. Now they were getting ready to land at 5pm and in Ray's head it was 11 o'clock in the morning, Chicago time, and he'd been up all night.

“So, not going to Aberdeen today?” Ray yawned.

Fraser sighed again. “I doubt it. We’re to meet a Miss McDonald at the airport, who was supposed to take us to the solicitor's Edinburgh offices to hear the will being read, then after an hour or so to refresh in a local hotel, we were to catch a train to Aberdeen to view the property. I imagine we’re far too late for that now.”

What with the four-hour delay and the lack of sleep, Ray was more than a little relieved that the trip up north would be postponed. He could use a brisk shower, a hot breakfast, and a warm bed. Not necessarily in that order.

"May I take your tray, sir?" The flight attendant smiled sweetly at Fraser and he grinned back.

"Thank you kindly. It was delicious."

Ray grunted when she asked the same question of him and got a poke in the ribs from Fraser for his rudeness.

A few moments later, the plane began its decent.

Miss McDonald was waiting for them outside customs after they had liberated Diefenbaker, who complained long and loud about having to travel in the hold with the other 'animals' and having to wear a collar and lead.

She was short woman, with close-cropped brown hair and wearing the most enormous pair of glasses Ray had ever seen. She was holding up a card with Fraser's name on it and scanning the crowds of recently disembarked passengers with barely concealed impatience.

"My name is Fraser," Fraser said warmly, offering her his hand, which she ignored. Looking up, way, way up, she lifted her glasses from her nose and squinted at him.

"Ye are?" This obviously surprised her.

"I am. And this is my friend and partner Ray Kowalski."

"Is it now?"

It still sounded odd hearing Fraser use his real name. He'd been someone else for so long. In fact, Ray still felt disorientated and not at all sure who Ray Kowalski really was.

Dief whined. “And this is Diefenbaker,” Fraser added impatiently. “My, um, dog.”

"I see," the tiny woman spared Ray a quick glance before concentrating her gaze back up to Fraser. "Well, yer late. The office is closed now fer the weekend." As she spoke she began to walk quickly towards the exit, so the two men had no option but to follow. Fraser had all he needed stuffed into his haversack, but Ray had to juggle a large suitcase and his carry-on.

"I'm terribly sorry Miss McDonald. The flight from Chicago was…"

“Delayed. Aye, I know.” The woman stopped dead, looking up and down the busy road outside the terminal. Fraser almost lumbered right into her. Ray wasn’t quite so nimble. He thumped into Fraser's warm back and made a small 'oof' sound. It was raining, and cold enough to see your own breath especially after the warmth of the arrival lounge. Ray decided to huddle closer to Fraser.

"TAXI!" she yelled, waving her hand at a passing black cab. The cab screeched to a halt, blocking traffic amidst a cacophony of blaring horns.

The window rolled down, and a large bearded head poked out. "Where to hen?"

"Waverley," she said over her shoulder, hustling the two men into the cab along with their luggage. "And guie it wings. We've a train tae catch."

As the taxi roared off into the thronging traffic, Ray fumbled around for a seatbelt. Something told him he would need it. He discovered Fraser doing the very same thing, when his groping hand encountered Fraser's. They exchanged worried looks before Fraser found the end of his belt and clicked it into place.

"Um, Miss McDonald…."

"Daphne. A'body cries me Daphne."

Fraser located the end of Ray's belt and pressed it into his hand. "As you wish. I was about to enquire as to our destination? My itinerary said that the Clarendon Hotel is located on Princes Street, yet I heard you instruct our driver to take us to Waverley?"

Daphne rolled down the window and stuck her head out, breathing deeply. "Well, ye were late. They told me tae take ye straight up to Aberdeen. So that’s what I’m doing.”

"Hey, hold the phone" Ray exploded angrily. "I am in serious need of a hot shower, and some food that doesn’t go 'splat' and a flat surface to lie on. You tellin' me I'm not getting that anytime soon?

Miss McDonald leaned her face against the cab wall. She was looking a little green about the gills. "Sorry, I dinae travel well. I may have to vomit shortly. What were you sayin'?"

Ray edged a little closer to Fraser, out of the line of fire, should the lady decide to hurl. "Hotel… food… shower?"

Daphne closed her eyes and groaned. "Aye laddie. When we get to Aberdeen. If I survive the trip."

"Fraser?" Ray turned to impale his partner with an icy look.

Fraser patted Ray lightly on the knee. "Hush, Ray. Let's not upset Daphne when she's clearly feeling fragile."

Ray glared but decided not to argue. Scotland wasn’t a big place. How long could it take to get to Aberdeen after all? He looked down at his knee, where Fraser’s hand still rested lightly.

***

Ray was having his dream again. The one where Fraser was lying on the floor of a cabin in front of an open fire. He was just wearing the bottom half of his long johns and Ray was in the process of licking every inch of exposed skin on his chest.

"Pardon me, Ray," Fraser gently shoved Ray upright in his seat, wiping the drool from his otherwise pristine red serge shoulder.

"Whazzap?" Ray rubbed at the crick in his neck and looked blearily around. Nothing much seemed to have changed in the last hour. Miss McDonald was still snoring loudly from the seat in front, it was still dull and raining outside the train, and they were still not ‘there yet’.

"The next stop is Aberdeen, Ray. We should get ready to disembark."

Ray cracked his neck loudly and peered out of the window. Not that he could see much. They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, with no city lights or even stars to light the way. "I gotta use the can," Ray announced, lumbering to his feet. "Why don’t you wake up sleepin' beauty there?" There was a loud grunt from the row in front followed by incoherent mumbling. "Oh lucky you, she's awake already!"

As Ray staggered up the corridor he heard Fraser say "Good evening Miss McDonald. I trust you enjoyed your… nap?"

In the trains' tiny rest-room, Ray stared at his wild reflection in the cracked and dirty mirror. He looked like a hobo. Hair flat on his head, stubble itching his face, eyes red-rimmed and bleary from lack of sleep. This was not his idea of a vacation. Not by a long shot. His ideal vacation involved lots and lots of sleep, preferably coming right after a night of booze, dancing and hopefully sex. Instead he got to travel around rainy Scotland while drooling all over Fraser. He smiled wanly at his reflection.

Well at least Fraser was in the second scenario.

Ray splashed his face with water, and ran his wet fingers though his hair in the hope that it might stick up even a little. There wasn’t much he could do about the stubble and the dark rings under his eyes until they got to Fraser's uncle's place. Although chances of finding the place equipped with hot running water were minimal, according to Fraser.

What was it he'd called the place - a 'Butt'n'Ben'. Fraser had explained that it meant ‘outside’ and ‘inside’. The ‘outside’ part probably referred to the john. How the hell had he ever agreed to tag along? In his mind’s eye, he saw Fraser's huge shit-eating grin. Oh yeah, that was why.

Ray shook his head ruefully. He was such a damned sucker when it came to Fraser. He'd only just gotten himself unzipped to take care of business when someone started pounding on the door.

"Ye gonnae be long?" Daphne McDonald's voice sounded desperate. "Only I think I'm gonnae be sick."

Ray stuffed his dick back into his pants and threw open the door, only just getting out into the corridor before the woman started throwing up. Jeez! She really meant it when she said she didn’t travel well. Ray made his way back to his seat, and squeezed past Fraser.

"The train is now approaching Aberdeen Station,” a tinny voice announced from the overhead speakers. "All passengers for Aberdeen please get ready to disembark here."

"This is our stop, Ray. Perhaps I should go check on Miss McDonald?"

Ray closed his eyes. "Yeah, perhaps you should. Just remember to stand well back.”

***

It was pouring as they stepped onto the almost deserted platform. Fraser was virtually carrying Daphne, so Ray slung his haversack over his shoulder and juggled the other two cases. Dief immediately raced off into the bushes to relieve himself, reminding Ray that he still had a pressing need to do the same.

"Where to now?" he asked, glancing up and down the platform.

"There'll be a… a car along… directly," the stricken woman managed to mumble right before retching forlornly over Fraser's boots. Ray did his best to hide his grin.

Fraser helped her to a bench under the overhead shelter and after making sure she was comfortable, moved off to deal with the boot desecration. Ray sat on his suitcase and patted down his pockets for a packet of smokes he’d bought at the airport. Fraser would no doubt give him a dirty look, but fuck him! He didn’t fall off the wagon very often. And after the 24 hours he’d just had, he deserved to indulge at least one of his vices.

Taking a deep drag, he felt the smoke burn his throat and lungs. His head swam a little, just like it always did when he hadn’t smoked in a long time. Hey, he was on vacation. Why shouldn’t he enjoy it?

The sound of a car racing towards him had Ray wheeling around. He just managed to haul his ass out of the way as an ancient and battered car skidded to a halt inches from his foot.

“Halloooo, are ye the folks that are to go up to the big hoose?”

“Um, maybe,” he hedged, peering in the window of the cab; not at all sure he’d actually understood a word of that.

Fraser appeared at his side, scowling at the cigarette hanging from the corner of Ray’s mouth. “My name is Benton Fraser. How do you do?”

“I do all right,” the red-haired driver replied warily. “You’ll be the new laird I suppose?”

Fraser and Ray exchanged bemused looks for a moment before a somewhat recovered Daphne McDonald shouldered her way between them both.

“Oh, thank God yer here. Get us up tae the big hoose will ye, afore I die of dehydration.”

Daphne tugged open the door of the cab and almost fell inside. Dief appeared from nowhere and jumped in behind her leaving the two men to deal with the luggage themselves. By the time Ray was wedged into the back seat beside Fraser, the rain had soaked him to the skin.

“So is it far?” he asked the driver, trying to enunciate his words as clearly as possible. “To the big hose? Is it far?” He figured that must be Scottish for hotel.

“Ye mean hoose? Nae, not far. Maybe a couple o’ miles.”

Ray settled back as best he could, and tried to tug his feet out from under the wolf, who had sprawled out on the floor. He could handle a couple of more miles before collapsing into a nice warm bed. Didn’t even have to be warm, necessarily, just flat and quiet and stationery. Dief snorted and wriggled into a more comfortable position.

With that the taxi turned off the main road and headed down a dirt road that had more craters than the moon. Ray began to think that maybe his ass wouldn't survive a couple of miles of this after all. And neither would his bladder.