(Standard, all-purpose disclaimer) All pre-existing characters are the property of the creators and producers of "Due South." No copyright infringement is intended. All new characters and situations are the sole property and responsibility of the author.
m/m relationship, but they don't actually do anything that needs a rating in this one.
Here we are with part 5 of a series that was initially supposed to be a two-parter. All of the previous installments are on the DS fiction archive, and they all begin with "The Hours and the Days" now so they should be easy to find. (Thanks, Amanda!) As for the inspiration behind this one ... all right. I'll admit it. The truth is, I really, really hate Inuit stories. :)
by Katrina Bowen
" ... instead of returning the basket as he was supposed to, the rabbit, as rabbits tend to do when they're frightened, decided to hide under a bush. And while all this was going on, the moon was still looking for the North Star."
Ray made a "go ahead, I'm listening" grunt as he pulled into the curb. The most annoying man in the world, there was no doubt about it. He loved Benny with all his heart, but did *everything* remind the man of an Inuit story? All he'd done was ask if Fraser wanted to pick up some doughnuts for breakfast.
It seemed like a simple question when he asked it, but for almost fifteen minutes of heavy Saturday morning traffic, Ray had been treated to the epic story of why rabbits have long ears. And now, fifteen minutes later, he still didn't see any logical connection between doughnuts and rabbits, and God only knew what the moon was doing in this story. Maybe there was some sort of condensed version of all these stories at the library, some kind of Inuit Cliff's Notes he could read to figure out the high points. There had to be a way to make sense of the damn things.
Ben was still talking as they entered the bakery, and Ray tried to tune back in. "So after the North Star talked to Raven, he got a second basket."
"Wait, wait a minute. You lost me. When did Raven get dragged into this story?" Ray bent slightly to look in the glass-fronted case. "You want jelly-filled or a cruller or what?"
Ben looked at him blankly for a second, his train of thought broken. "Oh, something ..." he turned an equally blank gaze at the variety of doughnuts. "Something plain."
"Right." Ray turned to the man behind the counter. "One sugar-glazed, one raspberry jelly, and two chocolate."
"Why are you getting two chocolate ... Ray. Ray, Ray, Ray." Ben shook his head in disappointment.
Ray shrugged. "We'd hurt his feelings if we didn't bring him anything. I'm Italian, Benny. I'm very responsive to guilt, it's genetic, it's beyond my control, okay?" He paid for the doughnuts and grabbed the box off the counter.
"Yes, but --" Ben followed Ray back to the Riv. "All the same, Ray, why are you getting *two* doughnuts for Diefenbaker? He doesn't even need one. He's out of shape as it is."
"Simple." Ray slid behind the wheel. "If I give Dief one doughnut, he's happy. He won't bug us for an hour or so. He knows there a second doughnut if he behaves himself, so he'll be good most of the afternoon, too. Same system I use with Maria's kids."
"Ah." Ben hesitated, then pulled the car door shut. "And does your system work on them?"
"Only once in a while so far, but I'm hoping Dief's a faster learner than the kids. He'd almost have to be." He pulled back into traffic and said, "So?"
"Well, I'm not sure if that's the best way to deal with a wolf. Or with children, for that matter, but I admit that I have far more practical experience with wolves --"
"Not that, Benny. I meant that you never answered my question about Raven."
"Oh, I see. The North Star went to him for advice when his basket wasn't returned."
Ray frowned at him. "I thought the North Star went to the moon for advice."
"No, no. The moon was looking for the North Star to ask if they could trade places, because the moon was tired of rising and setting every night."
"I still don't get it. What's that got to do with the rabbit having long ears?" Ray demanded.
"Well, if you insist on being technical, it doesn't have *anything* to do with why the rabbit has long ears."
Ray took a deep breath. As patiently as possible, he said, "Then why is it in the story in the first place?"
"It just is. It's ... well, I suppose you could call it a subplot."
"A subplot," Ray said tonelessly.
"Yes, you know, a subplot. A secondary story that provides a contrast to --"
"Fraser, I passed all my English classes, okay? I know what a damn subplot is. I'm asking what it's doing in the damn story!" Without waiting for an answer, he went on. "For that matter, I don't see why the damn baskets are in the damn story. What the hell does a rabbit need a basket for?"
"The rabbit *didn't* need the basket, Ray."
"Then why'd he ask for it?"
"See, that's the point of the whole story --"
Ray wasn't listening. "You want a nice, short Inuit story? I got one for you. The rabbit pissed off the moon. The moon grabbed the rabbit by his stubby little ears, whirled him over his head a few times, and lobbed him over a mountain. Boom, the rabbit's ears got stretched, and that's why they're long. End of story, and everyone can get up from around the campfire and go hunt down a walrus or skin a moose or something and get on with their damn lives. Okay?"
Ben frowned at him, mild consternation on his face. "I suppose that might work. But it's not really the same, though, is it, Ray? I mean, it doesn't have quite the same impact."
"It answers the question, doesn't it?"
"Yes, I suppose it does, but ..." Ben made a vague gesture. "It lacks a little something in the sense of -- of narrative sweep."
"Narrative sweep? You want narrative sweep, Benny, I'll take you to the movies. You wanna know why rabbits have long ears, come up with a nice short story. And leave the baskets out of it."
"All right."
Neither one spoke for the rest of the ride back to the apartment. As they pulled up to the apartment building, Ben picked up the box of doughnuts. Getting out of the Riv, he almost bumped into an elderly man. "Oh, excuse me." He opened the box and handed the man one of the chocolate doughnuts. "Would you like one?" The old man took it and kept walking.
Ray stared at Ben. "What did you do that for?"
Ben raised his eyebrows and looked at Ray with the appearence of total solemnity. "The green jacket he was wearing. It reminded me of the story of the badger and the ... oh. Well, I suppose you'd rather not hear it." He went up the steps; over his shoulder, he said, "Are you coming?"
For a moment -- maybe two moments -- Ray thought about getting in the Riv, driving away, and leaving Ben alone with his doughnuts and his stories and his wolf. Instead, he followed Ben and said, "So now you're going to tell me a story about a badger wearing a green jacket who eats doughnuts?" No doubt about it, the most annoying man in the world.
The End