Like A Marriage
by Akamine chan
Author's Notes: Written for Love_jackianto. Very belated. /o\ Excellent beta by Luzula; all remaining mistakes are mine. Also, thanks to Lucifuge5.
Story Notes: Prompt of "Partnership is like a marriage."
Bob paused for a moment, panting, pulling out his compass to check his bearings. He'd pushed himself hard to put some distance between himself and Willie Schmidt's gang of smugglers and poachers and thieves, but he needed to stay ahead. He had to get back to the tiny community of Nahanni Butte and radio for help. It still galled him to admit that he was going to need backup in order to apprehend all of Schmidt's associates.
His second best hatchet was still hanging from his belt and he fingered it thoughtfully. If Buck were here, they could build a canoe quickly enough. Buck wasn't here, damn him, and Bob was on his own. Alone, it would take time he didn't have.
There was no use lamenting what couldn't be changed.
He was upriver of Virginia Falls but if he could double back a little—he knew where Gus Kraus had a canoe and some supplies hidden away for emergencies near the Falls. He could procure them, portage past the Falls and be on the river in a day or so.
Three days of hard paddling would get him to Gus and Mary's small homestead. He would warn them about Willie Schmidt and his gang and partake of one of Mary's hearty meals before getting back on the river. Another day, if he was lucky, would see him to Nahanni Butte.
Nahanni Butte and George Laffite, the RCMP officer stationed there. Friendly enough man, if a little odd, which wasn't wholly unexpected for a solitary officer in this remote area. Laffite had been the one who'd documented the reports of unusual activity: strangers in the area, inexplicable animal kills, improperly maintained camps, and littering. It had taken six months or so for his request for another RCMP officer to filter through the administrative channels in Ottawa.
Eventually, Bob had been dispatched to the South Nahanni River in order to investigate. As he packed his kit, the detachment commander had inquired, carefully, if Bob had wanted another partner. He'd shaken his head and grimaced, "Thank you kindly, sir, but no." Bob had always said that partnership was like a marriage, and getting divorced stung.
He'd lost track of time as he traveled up and down the river, finding occasional signs of human activity, but never managing to find any criminals, which had been disheartening. Finally, he was able to follow a careless trail from a vandalized eagle's nest back to their encampment.
He'd been horrified by what he'd found. Rare orchids from the bogs around Virginia Falls, carefully dug up and packed in protective boxes, probably destined to be sold to unscrupulous collectors around the world. Platanthera dilatata and Listera cordata, among others, if he wasn't mistaken. And other exotic animal parts: bald eagle feathers and grizzly bear paws, Dall sheep horns and lynx pelts, all meant for the international animal black market.
Bob had waited patiently for a full day, hidden in the trees above their camp, listening and gathering information as the gang returned to the encampment to eat. Willie Schmidt was the clear leader, a boisterous man who bragged excessively about his skills as a hunter. Bob took careful notes for evidence.
He debated with himself on his next move. There were six members of Willie Schmidt's gang, plus Willie. If he left to get help, chances were good that the gang would leave the area with their spoils and finding them again would be difficult, if not impossible. The thought of these criminals getting away with despoiling one of Canada's greatest treasures didn't bear thinking upon.
If Buck were here, there'd be no question of their next move. They would enter the encampment, weapons drawn, and politely ask the miscreants to surrender.
Bob checked his revolver. With a little bravado, he could still pull this off. He didn't need Buck, after all.
He could hear the smugglers crashing through the underbrush to the east, making a tremendous amount of noise. That made it easier for Bob to avoid them as he worked his way closer to the river and Gus Kraus' supply cache.
His arm ached under his improvised bandage, but the bleeding had finally stopped and he still had the use of it. Bob could only thank God that Willie was not a good shot, in spite of his imagined prowess as a hunter.
"There he is! Heading southwest! Get him, boys!" The sudden shout had him looking over his shoulder, eyes wide as he saw Willie high in an aspen tree, acting as a spotter for the rest of his gang.
Bob broke out in a run, heading straight toward the river, careful of his footing, ducking under branches. As he ran, he took a quick mental inventory of what he could use to defend himself if Willie's gang somehow managed to catch him.
He had a small cast iron skillet, the hunting knife Caroline had given him as a wedding present, his empty service revolver, some fish hooks and needles, and a grappling hook. All good emergency improvised weapons. Things weren't looking so bad after all.
The rushing river muffled the sounds of pursuit, so Bob slowed down, wary. He picked his way down to the shore, surprised to find himself at a narrow section of the river, the opposite side about twenty meters away. If it weren't for the powerful current, he could probably swim across easily enough.
"Bob?!"
The incredulous bellow came from his left and Bob looked, dumbfounded at seeing Buck across the river. Of all the places to run into his former partner—
"What the devil are you doing here?" he muttered to himself, glaring at Buck through the river-misted air. A shot rang out from behind and he flinched. He looked around the rocky riverside, but there was no place to hide, no shelter. He was trapped.
"Bob!"
Bob scowled at his ex-partner, as Buck pulled a large coil of rope over his shoulders and held it up. Bob shook his head and looked back. Willie and his gang were close, almost upon him.
"Don't be a stubborn idiot!" Buck yelled.
"Oh, go to hell," Bob shouted back. He hadn't been the one to walk away, hadn't been the one who'd put in a transfer request—
For the first time in all the years they'd known each other, Buck looked scared. "Bob—"
"Okay, okay!" He pulled out his grappling hook, holding it up for Buck to see. Buck grinned, teeth flashing in the sunlight.
Buck Frobisher and I didn't speak for three years. Then there we were, face to face across the raging waters of the Nahanni River. Criminals bearing down on us. He had a rope; I, a grappling hook. The only route to safety was to meet in the middle. You got to trust your partner, son. Otherwise, nothing will go right.
-fin-
End Like A Marriage by Akamine chan
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