Author's website: http://www.slashcity.org/~rushlight

Disclaimer: No harm, no foul.

Author's Notes:

Story Notes: This is just a little stream-of-consciousness thingie that sprang on me this evening, from Ray's POV. I wasn't even going to post it, but then I decided, why not? It's not *exactly* a story, but maybe someone'll find it interesting. :)

Reflections
by, Rushlight

He looks so peaceful when he's sleeping.

It's not something I'd ever admit to him, of course. I don't think his ego could handle it. But it's true, really -- he always has to be so strong, so powerful, the Mountie, even when he's beat up and run down and just plain worn out. He doesn't seem to understand that even superheroes need a chance to recharge every once in a while.

I could watch him sleep forever, I think. Just sit here and watch him. How many people get to see him this way, do you think? How many people have ever seen him look like this? We've been pulling all-nighters for a week now, but even so, I almost couldn't convince him to take the opportunity to close his eyes for a bit. Like Martinez is gonna do anything tonight; we'll be stuck in this car till morning again with nothing to show for it, just like every other night we've been out here.

But he did take my advice, finally. Just leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes. That's a helluva lot of trust there, now that I think about it. And Benny's not a guy who does trust easily. I suppose I should feel honored, but that's just too funny. Feeling honored 'cause I have a Mountie sleeping in my car, and a deaf wolf snoring in my back seat. Yeah, even the wolf's tuckered out. Hell, I'm so tired my eyes feel like sandpaper every time I blink, but one of us has got to keep his wits about him.

And the truth is, I don't really want to miss a second of this. Forget the stakeout -- I just want to watch him. Is that too much to ask? He looks almost like a little kid, hunched up against the window like that. So trusting. I never realized how much stuff he carries around with him; I swear this guy's carrying demons you could write a book about. I wish he'd let me carry some of them for him. I wish he'd let me in that far.

I can see the patterns his breath makes when it touches the window. It must be damn cold outside. I've got the heater running, but doesn't the cold glass bother him? On second thought, maybe it actually feels kind of comforting. I wonder if he thinks it feels like home.

I could never do half the things he's done. It still makes me furious to think about him being banished from his home and sent down here, just for doing his job. I can see it in his eyes when he thinks about it -- home, like it's some kind of mythical concept, a fantasyland he doesn't think he'll ever get the chance to see again. It's gotten so I know just when to look for it. Like when the first snow of the winter falls, before it turns all gritty and black. Or at night, if we ever happen to be far enough away from the city where we can actually see the stars.

But the fact that he's not at home means that he's here, right now, with me. Is it wrong for me to feel just a little bit happy about that? Can I admit that to myself? Damn, I'm a cold-hearted son of a bitch to even think that. But yeah, I'm glad he's here. I think I've earned the right to be a little bit selfish, at least where he's concerned.

And it's not like he ever complains about having to be here. I don't think I've ever heard him complain about anything, not once in all the time I've known him. The only way you'll ever know he's unhappy with something is to look at his eyes, and even then he keeps it hidden mostly, so that if you blink you'll miss it.

But I've seen it.

I know.

The hell of it is, I don't think it's just the fact that he's away from home that makes him feel that way. I might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure he feels like this no matter where he goes. Lonely. Benny's real used to working alone, but I don't think he really likes it. He wants something, and maybe part of that has to do with clear skies and fresh snow and wide open spaces, but that's not all of it. No, what Benny wants more than anything is to belong somewhere, and I don't think he ever really has.

I wish I could tell him how much that bothers me. It never occurred to me just how lucky I've been in my life -- big family, lots of friends, always someone to turn to whenever I need a friendly ear. Benny never really talks about his past, but I get the feeling he's gotten used to being on his own. One of these days I'll have to sit him down and make him talk to me. Not about creation myths or caribou or the ten thousand words the Inuit have for "snow", but about him.

I wonder what he'd tell me.

I wonder what he'd let me tell him in return.

I wonder if he has any clue how much he's saved me, just by being what he is, and doing what he does. It's gotten to the point where I know for a fact I don't want him to ever leave. I don't want him to go home. And yeah, that's selfish, but there you have it. I wish....

But there's really no point in thinking about that, now is there? I've got to learn to just be happy with what I have. He's here with me, now, sleeping in my car. I really shouldn't ask for anything more than that. He's my friend, and he trusts me. And maybe, just maybe, he feels a little bit less lonely when I'm around.

And if sometimes I look at his mouth and I think about what it might be like to kiss him, well, I'm allowed a selfish thought or two now and then, aren't I? Aren't I? I can just sit here, and watch him sleep, and think about all the things I wish I wasn't too afraid to tell him. Like how I look at him and I see the type of person I wish I could be. And how I like myself so much more since I've known him, like somehow I'm a better person when he's around. Does he know how much I've changed since I met him? He's given me back the faith I thought I'd lost. Faith in the world, and faith in myself.

Maybe when he wakes up, I'll tell him that.

I wonder what he'd think if I told him I think he's beautiful. If I told him how much I like the way the light hits his eyes when I pick him up in the mornings. And the way he smiles when we laugh together over lunch in the afternoons. I wonder what he'd think if he knew how much I've thought about touching him. How much I want to touch him. How much I have to fight to keep my hands to myself whenever he's around.

Like now. Even in the shadows, I can see how soft his lips look. They're moving slightly whenever his breath fogs the glass in front of his face. And his eyes.... His lashes look so dark, so thick. I wish I could touch them, just once. His hair is a little tousled from being under his hat earlier in the day, but that looks right, somehow. He looks ... casual. Relaxed. Less like a toy soldier standing guard against the evils of the world and more like ... like this guy, who's been working far too hard for far too long, who fell asleep in my car.

I wish I could take a picture.

I wish I could make this moment last forever. I feel like he's sharing a part of himself with me that he never lets anyone else see. Like he's admitting to me that he isn't perfect, that sometimes he does feel tired and alone, and he needs someone to look out for him. That he trusts me to look out for him.

I wish I could tell him how much that means to me.

I wish I could let him know.

But that wouldn't be a good idea. Would it? It's kind of funny, how irritated I get with him for hiding what he's feeling, and here I am doing the exact same thing.

What would he say if I told him the truth?

How hard could it be? Just four words. Benny, I love you. I'm in love with you. I am in love with you. And I don't want you to be lonely anymore.

It's kind of scary to think about. What if he said no?

What if he said yes?

I think I'm gonna try it. Just come right out and say it. Admit to him how selfish I've been, and how much more selfish I want to be. Because I want. I want so very much, and it scares me and excites me at the same time. Maybe it's just lack of sleep that's making my mind wander this way, but it seems so futile to keep hiding it. What's the point, anyway? What can it possibly hurt if I tell him how I feel?

Maybe he'll tell me he feels the same way.

Maybe he'll tell me he doesn't want to be lonely anymore.

Maybe he'll let me touch him. Hold him. Kiss him.

Maybe he'll promise me he'll never leave.

I have to tell him tonight, before I lose my nerve. But for now, I'll just sit here and watch him, and enjoy the sight of him with all of his defenses down. There'll be time enough for confessions later. But I will tell him. I'm going to tell him everything.

Just as soon as he opens his eyes.

The End
2/8/02

End Reflections by Rushlight: n_sanity75@hotmail.com

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