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Five Things Ray Wanted That Surprised the Hell Out of Fraser
for the_antichris
1. Ray wanted to go an adventure.
Fraser was surprised when Ray asked. Or rather, he was surprised that Ray was serious, that he genuinely wanted to go on an adventure in Northern Canada.
"So...what do you think about going on that adventure with me? We could go looking for Franklin, you could teach me how to drive a dog sled. It'll be fun."
Fraser remembered the conversation in the crevasse, of course, but he hadn't thought Ray was serious--he'd thought Ray was suffering from hypothermia. At the very least, reasoned Fraser, Ray's incessant commentary on the weather indicated he had no desire to spend a significant amount of time in a place that he found inhospitable.
"Too cold. Too cold. Too fucking cold, Fraser."
But Ray had asked and Fraser had determined he was serious, and so--after fully explaining what such an adventure would entail--
"Geez, Fraser. I got it. Work my ass off in the freezing cold, eat crappy food, go to sleep exhausted every night, and we ain't actually gonna find Franklin in the end anyway. Sounds like a dream vacation. Way to sell it, buddy."
--Fraser realized it would be the perfect ending to this phase of their partnership. Ray was the closest friend he'd ever had, even closer than Ray Vecchio, and truth be told, he wasn't ready to say goodbye.
2. Ray wanted to learn.
Fraser expected to do the majority of the work on their adventure himself. It wasn't that he regarded Ray as lazy. Far from it. Rather, he was inexperienced and prone to impatience. Ray surprised him by asking a million questions, listening carefully and following instructions to the letter. He complained--Fraser would have worried if he hadn't--but always with a smile on his face. When he had trouble with a task--such as when he got the left wheel dog's tugline hopelessly tangled with the towline or when he had trouble setting the snow hook--Ray always refused assistance.
"S'ok. I can do it. Just give me a sec. Thing you should know about me, Frase--I learn by doing."
On the sixth day of their trip, Ray hitched up the dogs by himself while Fraser sat by the fire writing in his journal. His astonishment upon looking up had not gone unnoticed by Ray.
"Don't look so shocked. Told you I could hack it. And thank you kindly for thinking otherwise."
Fraser protested, but Ray just laughed and looked smug. Much to his shame, Fraser realized that a small part of him had expected Ray to be more hindrance than help--the pleasure of his company far outstripped any concerns Fraser had about Ray's abilities, so there had never been any thought of turning down Ray's request on those grounds--but Ray was far from a hindrance. After a few days of "learning by doing", he began setting up and breaking down camp by himself.
"S'only fair. You're doing all the driving. For now."
Ray worked hard and learned quickly. In just ten days, he was driving the sled by himself. He didn't have "the practiced ease of a champion dog-sled racer," as he liked to claim, but he did seem to have an instinctive talent.
"C'mon, Fraser. Admit it. I'm a natural."
By the end of the second week, Fraser had the distinct impression the sled team preferred Ray. It wasn't anything specific. They just seemed to...deflate when Fraser stepped onto the runners instead of Ray. Ray maintained it was his "sparkling personality." Fraser insisted it was the ridiculous dance he did on the runners before yelling "hike!"
"Hey! You do not mock a man's mush dance, Fraser. That's just not cool."
The following morning, Fraser fussed with the claw brake until he thought Ray was far enough ahead of him on the skis, then attempted to imitate Ray's "mush dance." Dief laughed so hard, he fell over.
3. Ray wanted Fraser.
Shortly after their fourth week on the snow, they stopped to restock their provisions and rest at Friar's Point, a small village approximately 200 kilometers south of Inuvik. Fraser had had to assure Ray that they weren't stopping because of him.
"I been pulling my weight, right? You'd tell me if wasn't, right, Frase? Right?"
After Fraser had sworn "on the uniform" that it was "standard procedure," Ray was more than happy to stay in one of the small rental cabins maintained by the village. He was ecstatic about sleeping in a real bed--though, oddly, he blushed whenever the topic came up.
"I cannot tell you how excited I am about this bed, Frase. Uh--not that--I mean. I just mean--it'll be nice to sleep on a real bed instead of--instead of the ground."
They took care of the dogs then took turns in the communal shower. Ray shaved off the beard he'd been growing, and Fraser was unnerved by an urge to reach out and stroke Ray's newly smooth jaw. He shook it off and went to procure dinner from the local version of a restaurant while Ray built a roaring fire. Ray had been understandably and rather comically disappointed that they couldn't order a pizza, but he seemed to enjoy the caribou stew.
"Shit, Fraser. Do not tell my mother, but I think this is the best meal I ever had."
Afterwards, Ray wrapped himself in a blanket and sat in front of the fire. He insisted Fraser sit next to him, and Fraser complied, though it was much too warm for him. They talked for hours, and Fraser marveled that after a month of close quarters, they not only weren't sick of each other, they could still find plenty of subjects on which to converse. Fraser was in the midst of telling Ray about the time he'd arrested a mime only to discover that underneath the make-up was his commanding officer's husband, when Ray moved closer and rested his hand lightly on Fraser's knee.
"Is this okay?"
Fraser nodded and smiled warmly, touched by the gesture. American males weren't generally given to such displays of fraternal affection. He continued his story and was pleased that Ray was giving him his full attention. Upon the conclusion, Ray laughed appreciatively, then sat staring at Fraser, smiling happily. Fraser started to feel awkward after a few moments, though he was unsure why, then Ray leaned forward and spoke so quietly, Fraser could barely hear him.
"Fraser...tell me we're thinking the same thing."
He'd looked at Fraser quite intently, and Fraser had become confused. It was, of course, rather unlikely that they were thinking the same thing. He opened his mouth to say as much, but an affirmative answer seemed exceptionally important to Ray and Fraser, not understanding why, gave it to him--in his way. "How could we not be?" he said. Ray's face shone for a brief moment before he paled and swallowed nervously. Fraser was just about to ask what was wrong, when he received the shock of his life. Ray leaned forward and kissed him passionately.
4. Ray still wanted Fraser after he "freaked out and acted like a total asshole."
24 June 1998
Dear Ray,
I hope this letter finds you well. I have heard from Francesca that you are now employed by the 14th precinct and that, upon your return from Canada, there was something of a bidding war for your services. Congratulations. I always believed you a first-rate police officer, and I am happy to hear that so many members of "the brass", as you would call them, are in agreement.
I was somewhat surprised to learn that you turned down an opportunity to work at the 27th precinct (under your own name, finally and most deservedly). I hope your decision not to return was not influenced by our falling out.
As I'm sure you've guessed, our falling out is why I am writing. (I imagine you rolling your eyes at me right now and telling me to get to the point. I will soon enough.) I wanted to call you--I still do--but frankly, I fear you'll hang up on me--for which I could hardly blame you. I have done a lot of thinking since that night. Soul searching.
The truth is, I acted abominably that night and little better the following day. I cannot express in words the depth of my regret for my actions. I cannot think of the things I said and did without flushing from shame. Please accept my profound and sincere apologies, Ray, if nothing else. I have no excuse to offer, only an explanation of sorts...
We never spoke of her--though I'm sure you know about her. The woman I loved. After it happened, I changed. I had always believed in an ideal of love that most would consider rather embarrassingly unrealistic. I suppose you could say I was naive. After her, after it was finally over, I stopped believing. It was too painful. I loved her--I wish I could say I didn't, that it was only infatuation or desperation or something--but I can't. I loved her, I would have done anything for her, and she nearly destroyed me. How was I to believe any longer in my adolescent ideas of love? Of a joining of souls? A true partnership?
There were moments--women and one man--who made me rethink my conclusions, however briefly, but it never worked out, and I took it as a sign. A reinforcement of my resolve to not put myself in the way of love ever again.
That night--I was so angry with you. I didn't even understand why. I was just incredibly angry. I kept thinking "you had no right." I didn't know what it meant but it was there, a broken record, playing in my mind over and over again until I was yelling it at you, as I'm sure you recall. I didn't mean it the way you undoubtedly thought I did--as I thought I did at the time. I wasn't referring to the kiss. I meant--it's difficult to explain--I meant that you snuck past my defenses. And for that, I lashed out at you, said those terrible things and sent you away. We didn't even finish our adventure. My God, Ray--I'm sorry. So very sorry. I can't imagine that you could ever forgive me. I can't forgive myself.
I have no right to ask but--is there a chance that you could forgive me? That we could start again? I miss you terribly. I can't bear the idea of never seeing you again. It's foolish of me to even ask--especially as I can't make any promises--but I want to try. You and I--well, some things can only be said in person. Perhaps I could come for a visit? We could talk and see if there's still a chance for our "duet." I needn't stay with you, if that would make you uncomfortable. I would be happy to make other accommodations. If you are amenable to such a visit, please call or write at your earliest convenience.
I am now at my new posting in Tuktoyaktuk. I have enclosed my address and the phone number of my home and detachment. I look forward to hearing from you. (If you choose not to respond, I will respect your wishes, of course.)
Yours,
Benton Fraser
P.S. Diefenbaker says "Hello".
After putting the letter into the post, Fraser threw up. He'd never been this nervous in his entire life. He voiced this thought to Diefenbaker who snorted, "Serves you right." Fraser could only agree. He then began an agonizing period of watching the calendar, counting the days, wishing he knew when it was safe to assume that Ray wasn't going to reply. Hope, he learned, was only a hair's breadth from despair.
He avoided long patrols for as long as he could, not wanting to miss Ray's call, should it come. He stayed close to home or the office until long after Ray should have received the letter. Finally, he was forced to acknowledge that Ray wasn't going to call. He wasn't going to write. He wasn't going to give Fraser a second chance.
It was late August, just after noon on a mild autumn day, when Fraser was surprised by a knock at his door.
"I oughta kick you in the head for what you've put me through."
Fraser smiled and said, "Understood."
5. Ray wanted to stay.
By Thanksgiving, Fraser's relationship with Ray had advanced considerably. Ray was quick to anger, quick to forgive and--
"Quick to get you into bed."
--insufferably smug. He'd been "visiting" for almost two months before Fraser thought to ask about his job. Ray mumbled something about vacation and then distracted him with fellatio. It was a distraction that served Ray well a further three months, until Fraser finally put together the evidence and came to the obvious conclusion.
Item A: Ray has developed an interest in Canadian history and culture.
"They're just books. Geez! Can't a guy read a book on First Nations art without getting the stink-eye?"
Item B: Ray is making a concerted effort to socialize with the local population, to ingratiate himself.
"Hey, Frase. You're going to be on patrol 'til Thursday, at least, right? I told Irniq I'd help him fix his roof, so if I'm not home when you get back, I'm probably over there. Oh, and I might go fishing with Sal on Wednesday. Depends on if Deena lets him or not. Man is that guy whipped. Deena's only six months along, you'd think she could let him out of her sight for one afternoon."
Item C: Ray has been making inquiries about the labor market of the Northwest Territories.
"I was talking to Dave about his work on the rig. I don't know. Seems kind of boring. Being an ice trucker though--that's cool. How's a guy get into that line of work anyway?"
Conclusion: "You're staying!"
Ray looked at him like he had a hole in his bag of marbles--a distressingly familiar expression. "I been here five months already. How much vacation'd you think I had?"
"You could've just said something," sniffed Fraser.
"Yeah...uh...I guess I figured it's better to ask forgiveness than permission."
Fraser frowned, feigning dismay. "That's not very Canadian of you, Ray."
"Damn," replied Ray, stepping close and wrapping his arms around Fraser. "Better get working on that. I got a meeting with the immigration guys next week about starting the citizenship process. You know, I mentioned how I helped out with the nuclear sub and they jumped me to the head of the line. Cool, huh?"
Fraser gaped.
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