due South -
[PG] for barely even hinted at M/M slash between Ben and RayK.
Contains spoilers for 'Eclipse.'
Disclaimer: dS characters aren't mine, so the voices tell me. But I never listen.
I followed this trail, I came to this city,
I met this man, I lived this lie,
I suffered this loss, I took this chance,
and I walked into a mausoleum.
A path of painted dance-steps led me to this moment, my fate decided by newsprint encircled in red. I sat in a house of death mesmerized by the sparkle of dust floating around my quarry's fine-boned features like a scruffy angel's halo and gave answers knowing I lied in truth. I spoke of duty and honor while I imagined a more selfish and pleasurable course of action. Through a graveyard I stumbled, while the sun awaited rebirth and I resolved to champion my present.
I am in my late thirties and he is a Chicago cop.
Street smart. He looks so touchable,
but I maintain restraint. I am factual
like a stoic. I am Stan Rogers, Bill Mitchell,
Bobby Orr; their best attributes coalesced into
a solitary facade.
And now, for all my trouble, I find myself in this untenable situation. My hands reach up again to assay a secure grip and the sunlight is suddenly extinguished again. As I begin to ponder the unlikelihood of an event of this magnitude happening outside of any biblical construct, a feather brushes my nose.
Ray crouches beside the grave where he left me stranded. Leaning over, his taut torso effectively blocks my escape. I had not realized my gift could be used to tickle, as well. His slender arm reaches towards me once more, the torture device clasped in his hand grazes my face again.
"Earth to Fraser!"
I can make out his sly grin as he turns to set the dreamcatcher down on his bag by the grave and sticks his hand back in my face snapping his fingers to further his point.
"Come on, stop zoning and let's get a move on. I got IAD to annoy and trout to bite. Mush."
On that final command, Ray grabs my hand and starts pulling me up. He steadies my ascent with a strong arm clasped around my waist, while he chastises my inability to escape the trap he pulled me into.
"Jeez, Frase, first the agile thing on that dead car, and now this? I mean, I'm just saying, where's the leaping outta pits in a single bound got to? Or, weren't you equipped with that particular Mountie super power?"
Once free from my earthen enclosure, I stand toe to toe and eye to eye with my jailer/rescuer; his arm releases me and his hand drops mine. I am instantly bereft of his touch. I stare into the blue-green depths of his eyes and discern no malice reflected in them, but his comments can not go unchecked. No matter how his brutally beautiful smile shines upon me.
"Rest assure, Ray, my training was complete and all my *Mountie powers* are intact."
"And this training, it included fish abuse?"
He gracefully bends and grabs his kit and my present, as I eye out Diefenbaker still admiring his horticulture handiwork. We head towards the car and I begin to enlighten him on the finer points of the traditional game I have gone to great lengths to recreate for the party.
"No, no, it did not. In the Yukon... What now?"
I stop to look back at Ray showing obvious signs of displeasure at my discourse. Which for him, apparently, includes groaning, halting and rapping a dreamcatcher continuously against his forehead. Ah, another use for it. Understood.
"Fine. I would have thought an overview of the game would give you a certain advantage in playing it, but as you know best..."
I gesture at Dief, who gives one last appreciative bark to his floral tribute and looks to see if I approve. I nod my head and bellow, "Yes, yes, nicely done, Diefenbaker. Now, let's go."
Turning again, I continue in the direction of the parking lot, walking in a manner I hope appears disinterested in the nearness of the IAD deadline and in the start of the festivities or in anyone listening to me.
"Frase, Frase, wait up."
I neither hasten or slow my pace or show any indication I hear him. Then, I feel Ray's arm go around my shoulders and he taps the dreamcatcher on my face.
"Come on, finish your lect...your story. I suddenly got this strange urge to be an ace fish-chewer."
Ray squeezes us closer together as we continue to the car, perfectly in step. Half-wolves being maddeningly romantic creatures, Dief lopes behind us joyfully barking his assent.
Copyright © 2000 Stephanie A. Moore
All Rights Reserved
dS slash by moonstarnine.
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