"Ray, we need to talk," says Maggie.

Uh oh. That's a sentence that never, ever means good news.

And right when I thought things were really going great between us, too. I mean, I'd been thinking it was time to maybe see about taking it to the next level. We've been, dating, I guess you could call it, for six months now, since right after I moved up here. Taking things slow, like all the way back to high-school slow, which has been. . .really nice, actually. Getting to know each other, becoming friends, without any pressure to jump in the sack or make some kind of yes-or-no decision about each other.

I don't quite know how it turned out that way. Maybe because it still isn't so long since she lost her husband. Maybe because she wasn't sure if I was really going to stick around Inuvik long-term. Maybe just because the pace of things is different up here and we've both been taking our cues from that rhythm. Whatever; the reason doesn't matter so much. Point is, we've been doing this slow dating thing. We do a lot of stuff with Fraser, even not counting the fact that they work together and I help out unofficially like Fraser did back in Chicago. The three of us have dinner together pretty often, either at Maggie’s place or at me and Fraser’s, and we’re always helping each other out with this or that on weekends or doing some kind of out-in-nature thing, because both of them are crazy for that, of course. Then, once every week or two, me and Maggie go on some kind of date by ourselves, a goodbye hug and sometimes a kiss, but no more.

And it's been real sweet, and good, and I really like her, and she really likes me—or at least, I thought she did. Thought we were on the same page. Got all dressed up sharp tonight and brought flowers (hand picked; that's how they come ‘round here, and only for a few months out of the year). I was thinking after dinner I might try a few of the old moves that always used to be a hit with Stella, and see if. . .

But now she wants to Talk, with a capital T.

I'm screwed.

"Um. . .okay?" I say. "Talk about what?"

She looks at me for what seems like forever, all serious, then takes a deep breath and lays it on the table.

"Are you in love with my brother?"

I’m not drinking anything but I choke anyways.

"What? What kind of question is that?"

"A straightforward one," she says, sounding exactly like Fraser for a second. For having different moms and being raised separately, the two of them are weirdly similar in certain very specific ways. She sighs. "Sorry, I thought it would be easier not to beat around the bush."

"Sure, I get that.  But where is this even coming from?"

"Ray, you moved to Canada to move in with Ben.  You're closer than a lot of siblings.  You act like a married couple: the private jokes, the way you communicate without saying a word, even the way you rile each other up.”

“Well, yeah, but we’re partners. Like Fraser’s dad used to—uh, your dad used to say, a partnership is like a marriage. In those ways, like you said.  But not in, uh. . .other ways.”

Come to think of it, maybe quoting your partner’s father who you’d never even met is not a good strategy for demonstrating how not-married you are.

And sure enough, Maggie’s not buying it, even though I’m honestly not bullshitting. “Ray, the only reason half the town doesn't assume the two of you are a couple is because they know you're seeing me."

"Hey, you don't think—I wouldn't pull a stunt like that on you. Pretend to date you to hide the fact that I was secretly shacking up with a guy? I'm not the kind of asshole."

"I know you're not," she says. "And I know Ben wouldn't tolerate it for a second. I'm just saying, well. You love each other, that's obvious."

"Well, yeah, I love Fraser like a brother. Never said different."

"I know. But, do you really love him like a brother? Or do you love him like, well. . . ?"

"Like I love you?"

I've never said the word to her before, and I shouldn't be saying them for the first time like this, like a question, like a defense, but. . .but I do love Maggie. I think I do.

She accepts it like she has no doubt I mean it. Just nods and waits for me to answer the question.

"Shit, I. . .I mean, sure, like three quarters of the human race, I wouldn't throw him out of bed for eating crackers."

"Ray," she says, with that just-shy-of-patronizing patience that’s also very Fraser-like. "I know everyone finds Ben attractive. I did, myself, before we found out we were related."

"No shit," I can't help saying.

She raises her eyebrows pointedly.

"But how many people would even consider moving up here for him? None of the Chicago women you've told me stories about."

She's got a point. Frannie wouldn't; Thatcher didn't, and she’s Canadian. Vecchio loves Fraser like a brother, but he's in Florida and I'm here.

"Maggie. . ." I spread my hands out, pleading, for what, I don't even know.

"It's okay, Ray. Just tell me the truth."

“The truth? Hell, I don’t know.”

But she deserves a real answer, so I give my best shot at thinking about it. I did move up here for Fraser, it’s true, and it’s also true that it didn’t even occur to me to up stakes when my brother left Chicago, or my parents. I decided to move to Canada after I nearly died three or four times following Fraser through ice fields and up mountains, all because of the way my heart clenched up in a hospital waiting room when he said he was taking a plane to Canada and I knew, right then, he was never coming back.

“Okay,” I sigh. “Maybe you’re right, maybe I do. . .have feelings. . .for Fraser that go beyond friends and partners. But I swear to you, I’m not dating you just to like, sneakily get closer to him or something.”

“Of course not. That would be pointless; you’re already closer to him than I am. But maybe you decided, maybe not even consciously, ‘Well, I can't have the person I love most, so his sister's the next best thing.’”

“That’s not fair,” I protest “I liked you before you were Fraser's sister. In Chicago. I kissed you and everything.”

“But did you like me enough to move to Canada for me?”

“After knowing you for two days? No. But I liked you enough that when I was thinking about moving up here, you were one of the reasons. And then we got to know each other and be friends, and I do like you, I—I love you—I was going to—tonight—I thought things were going good with us. I thought you—”

“I do.” She takes my hands, squeezes them, looking into my eyes with a frank and solemn gaze that’s just like Fraser’s. “I love you too, Ray. And I want. . .well. I want us both to be happy. All three of us.”

“We are. Aren't we?” My voice wobbles like a kid’s and I clutch her hands, even though she isn’t trying to pull them away. “The three of us, you and Fraser, and me, too, I thought we were our own kind of family. I'll let you, I've never seen Fraser so happy. This—Canada, a far-North posting, you, us—it's what he's always wanted.”

“You don't think he'd like someone for himself? A partner of his own?”

“I’m his partner,” I answer by reflex, then wish I could smack myself in the forehead, but I’m not going to let go of her hands do do it. She’s giving me that too-polite-to-say-I-told-you-so look. I sigh. “Damn it, no, you're right. Fraser does need someone too. But he's never—I mean, I've seen him maybe interested in someone a time or two, but not for a while. And the last time was, uh, you, which. . .yeah. Point is, I don't think he falls for people so easy.”

“I think you're right about that,” she agrees, and waits for me to say it.

“And he loves me. But. . .like that? You think he loves me?”

“I could be wrong,” she allows.

“Yeah,” I say, but she doesn’t mean it and I don’t really believe it, either. Now that she’s pointed out the evidence I’ve been ignoring for I don’t even know how long, I can’t just un-see it. “Shit. What a mess. But, listen, that doesn’t change anything between you and me. I mean, Fraser, he wouldn’t—he won’t—he knows we’re. . .”

“Yes, he does, and no, he wouldn’t come between us. In fact, if he thought there was even a chance of coming between us. . .”

“He’d do something dumb.”

She nods.

“Well, fine, so we won’t let him,” I say. “We won’t say anything, we won’t change anything. He doesn’t have to know we know. . .what we know.”

“Ray.” I don’t know how she manages to look sad and exasperated and fond all at the same time. Like Stella, before the fond got all used up. Shit, I guess I really got a type, no big susprise, and I don’t think Fraser’s ever used that look on me yet, but just wait until I break his heart, just like I—

Jesus, this is not a good time to start hyperventilating. Pull yourself together, Ray, and listen to what the nice lady you’re in love with is telling you.

“Just tell me the honest truth, okay? If you'd gone home after work tonight to lean up and change into your date clothes—your extremely sharp dad clothes, by the way, I didn't have a chance to tell you how nice you're looking.”

“Uh, thanks?”

She flashes me a downright naughty smile, there and gone and she’s all serious again.

“You’re welcome. So, if you'd come home to find Ben waiting for you, and he'd told you, ‘Ray, I'm in love with you, I want you to be my life partner not just my work partner, may I kiss you now’. . .would you be here with me right now?”

“I. . .don't know,” I stammer, thrown off by the compliment and the smile, not to mention this whole freaking conversation. “I wouldn't cheat on you, and I wouldn't just. . .forget about you cause someone else made me an offer.”

“A better offer?”

“Jesus, Maggie. You know, Ben—Fraser told me the first day we met, people ain't interchangeable. They're also not comp—con—you can’t compare them like that. I can't say one of you is better than the other, that doesn't even make sense.”

“Fair enough. But if you had to choose? Ben or me?”

“Damn it, why does it have to be a choice? Why can’t we all just. . .” I spread my hands in helpless frustration.

“That’s what I’ve been wondering.”

“Because what we—wait, what? You’ve been wondering what?”

“Why can’t we all just. . .be happy together? You and me. You and Ben.”

“You want me to. . .with both of you? With your brother?”

“Well, I’m assuming Ben and I wouldn’t, um, do anything untoward with each other.”

“Except for sharing a—a—me. That doesn’t count as untoward?”

“Siblings are supposed to share, aren’t they?” The naughty smile is back, tugging at the corners of her mouth and eyes.

“Yeah, what do you know, you grew up as an only child. Both of you. I had a brother, and let me tell you, you don’t share your special teddy bear.  And you certainly don’t—”

“Ray. Are you arguing about this because you don’t want to? Or is this just reflex?”

Which is one way Maggie is not like Fraser. He can’t tell when I’m arguing for the sake of arguing versus when it’s actually important. Mostly because he’s too busy arguing for the sake of it, himself. This is one of the things about Maggie that I. . .love.

“I. . .I don’t want. . .”  I take a nice big breath and try to focus on the important point.  “Look, it’s a nice idea, even if it’s completely whacked, and I won’t claim I don’t want to. . .I mean, you and Ben, I’d be crazy to say no.”

She smiles like the sun coming up, which is pretty fucking distracting and I wish I could afford to be distracted.

“But. . .Maggie, he won’t go for it, not in a million years.”

“He will if you ask him,” she says. She sounds just like Fraser saying We could jump off this multi-story grain elevator into Lake Michigan.

“Fraser has never done a single damn thing just because I asked him.”

“Was it his idea for you to move up here?”

“No, it was mine, but. . .oh, fine. I’ll ask him. What’ve I got to lose but my mind? Oh, that’s right, I could ruin all our lives.”

“You won’t.” She sounds so sure. Just like Fraser always does. But there’s that thing in the way she’s looking at me, like Fraser gets once in a blue moon, that thing, that pleading thing. Please, Ray. Please do it. For me, because I can’t do this without you.

Gets me every freaking time.

“This is what I’m letting myself in for, huh?” I ask. “A lifetime of you two using me to maneuver each other into agreeing to your wildly bizarre plans?”

“It’s worked for you and Ben so far, hasn’t it?”

“I guess I can’t argue with that.”

This time her smile is the sun-up one and the naughty one all rolled together. She pulls me in with both hands and gives me a kiss that leaves me breathless. Well, that’s a response I never get from Fraser.

That. . .might just be about to change.

Holy crap.

“Okay,” I say. “Okay. Right. I can do this. We can do this.”

“Now you’re getting the idea.” She gives me another kiss, just a quick soft one, but the second our lips touch mine, I get this picture in my head of Fraser watching us with a fond, indulgent smile, and then licking his lips. . .

“Now,” she says briskly, taking my elbow and hauling me to my feet while my brain is still grinding its gears over that image. “Let’s go talk to Ben while the iron is hot.”

“You really think he’ll go for it?” I ask.

 “There’s only one way to find out.”