Alone
By Otterlady 02/26/1999

He didn't know who he was anymore. Used to be that when he woke in the morning he knew who, and what, he was. He could say to himself, "Yes. That's who I am." He had never felt the need to question the internal definition of his being. It was a constant.

Now, now he wasn't so sure. The delicate thread that attached his sense of being to his psyche had been stretched to the limit until it was frayed and weak. It used to be that when he looked at himself in the mirror the face looking back was familiar. Now looking back was a stranger.

He had become a label, a caricature. He was no longer a person, a being with feelings, random thoughts, or life. He was simply a figure that passed through the lives around him like a puff of smoke. If they noticed him at all, it was only the form they saw not the substance. He knew he was striking in his uniform and coupled with a pleasing face and demeanor people tended to see only that and not the man beneath that red tunic. He wanted nothing more than someone to take notice of that man.

There were days that he wasn't sure if anyone even noticed him. Those were the days when he wanted to leap up on Ray's desk, rip off that red tunic and scream "Look at me -- See ME!" But he didn't. Times when, standing guard, a tourist wanted their picture taken with the stoic Mountie, that he felt like pulling a face and yelling "Boo!" But he didn't. Days when no one said "Hey, Fraser, how are you doing?"

There were days he wasn't even sure if he noticed himself.

Even the people he called 'friends' had changed. Some had left entirely, some simply drifted away from him when he wasn't looking. Attitudes had shifted. His friends didn't come to him for help or advice like they used to; instead they were upset or even angry when he offered. Just the other day he had started to relate an antidote in response to a problem his partner was having and was ignored. Instead, Ray had just kept talking to Lt. Welsh, acting as if he were so much background noise.

Detectives Huey and Dewey had stopped ragging on him. Now, they barely grunted when he came in the squad room. He didn't understand that at all. They had always taking such delight in giving him a hard time. It was puzzling and he hated puzzles. Especially when he had no idea what the answer was.

But perhaps the one that hurt the most was Francesca. The one he could always count on to perk up when he entered the room. Frannie, who always had a smile, a word or a gesture. Even she had changed. Now Francesca was too busy, too absorbed in her work to take notice. He could walk right past her without even a glimmer of a response. He could understand her wanted to do her job, but this total ignoring of him hurt. Yesterday he had stood beside her desk for what seemed like forever before she lifted her head to stare blankly at him. "Yes?" She had said coolly. He had stammered something and left feeling as if she had torn out his heart.

Coming home that night he was not surprised to find his four-legged companion ensconced with Turnbull. (Who would never be a simple stereotype.) No amount of calling, commanding or even pleading made Dief leave his comfortable spot beside the other man. This one was supposed to be his 'faithful companion'. The one creature he could always count on. Not anymore it appeared.

Sighing, he had gone to his lonely room. Opening the closet door, he was not surprised to find it only a closet. No comfort there. Undressing in the dark, he had crawled beneath the blankets and lay awake for hours staring into the blackness. Praying for release from this pain that loneliness created.

He had been alone many times. It was the nature of his profession. His nature to be comfortable with only himself for company. Most of his childhood had been spent with only books to entertain him. Why did it hurt so much now? Had he become soft living in the city, away from the cold, empty land in the far reaches of the north country? Was it because he had become used to being part of a group, a family? Had losing that family been the one thing that he couldn't bear? His birth family had certainly not been the best example of togetherness. His mother taken away, his father not wanting to be around, his grandparents involved with their own lives. Always a little too busy to pay attention to a quiet, lonely boy.

Growing up, he had learned how to cope with being on his own. He learned how to survive without others, to take care of himself because no one else would. He had moved around so much during those years that he never made a lot of close connections. And it had never bothered him. Why now? How had he changed?

Perhaps friendship was like a drug. An addictive agent that once consumed took over your life and when taken away caused withdrawal pains. He had gotten used to Ray Vecchio showing up after work, sitting around talking, just being together. Going to the family's house for Sunday dinner. Being accepted as a member of that family. Now they were gone, down a rabbit's hole no longer a part of his life. Even the people who had been his neighbours were scattered when his apartment building burnt. He had tried to keep track of them, but it had proved too difficult, too time-consuming. And some had not wanted his attentions either. He had lost far more than a few belongings when that building was torched; he had lost his life. Oh, maybe, not his physical life, but his spiritual life. The part of him that made him important. Alive.

The hardest thing he had ever done in his life was living in Chicago. He had never liked being around a large number of people. Living as he had back home, the solitude, the quiet; he had grown accustom to being on his own. There had been weeks when he hadn't seen another human and if and when he did it was usually the criminal he was pursuing. When he was forced to go about amongst others, it was always a small group, usually of his peers. Other RCMP who were not impressed with the physical appearance only with what could be accomplished. With them he had felt, if not always welcomed, at least a small part of a greater whole.

Now, surrounded by millions of people, he had never felt more alone. Even the times he was off duty and in civilian clothes he felt unnoticed. Oh, he would get an occasional admiring glance from a woman, but never more than that. City people had learned to keep their distance, too afraid of the crazies to take a chance being friendly with a stranger. And he had never learned the art of making the first move.

Ray disappearing had been one more stone on the grave of his self-worth. He had thought he could cope with all of these things, but every day something else would happen to push him further away from the life he had built. Every slight, every time someone looked at him and saw only the uniform, every little betrayal added another one of those stones. There had been times when he was very glad that they had taken his gun from him.

Finally he drifted off to sleep. It was the only friend left him, the only comfort in an increasingly uncomfortable life. Into this dark, warm space, she came. He had grown used to his father visiting him but he was always awake for that. This was new. She had never came to him before, not even the times he had cried for her.

She sat beside him and gathered him into her arms. Suddenly he was the little boy that had gotten lost in the woods and only stopped being afraid when she found him. The faint smell of lilacs surrounded her. He had forgotten that, the way she had always smelled of spring. She held him, rocking him slightly, rubbing his back the way he had always liked. He relaxed in the warmth of her presence, not caring why she was there, just very glad she was.

The sound of her soft voice, so long forgotten, was like water to a thirsty man. He remembered her singing around the house, always happy. Those had been better days, when she was alive and his father would come home. There had been laughter then. It had gotten so quiet after she was gone. It had become a way of life for him, one that living here had changed, then snatched away.

"My boy, my poor, sweet boy." His mother said. "You were always such a happy child and now look at you. Feeling sorry for yourself, contemplating God knows what." She shook her head, her beautiful face sad.

He stared at her in amazement. How could she say it like that? He had every reason to be upset. Life had turned sad and ugly and it wasn't his fault! His friends didn't like him any more and he had done nothing to warrant it!

"Now, child. You know that your friends still care about you. They have problems and lives too; they're not here just to entertain you. Yes, they've changed but that's normal. It's you who haven't changed. You've always been hard on those around you. You expect people to live up to your standard and you've set that standard so high that no one can reach it. Pushing people too hard only makes them resent you, not like you. I remember when you were about five and how upset you got when your new puppy wouldn't come when you called. He didn't even know what was expected of him and you weren't patient enough to teach him.

Perhaps if you were a bit more understanding and patient with them they would return the favour. You're so busy feeling sorry for yourself that you've stopped taking notice of what's happing in their lives. Your friend, Ray, is far away from his home and family. He misses you ever bit as much as you do him. The poor man taking his place is confused and scared. He has to protect your friend with his own life and he's never even met him! Stan's trying his best to be something he's not. He wants to be your friend and you keep pushing him away, expecting more from him than he's able to give. Ease up on him and let him be himself with you, you're the only one he has too, you know."

"As for Ray's family, they're coping with a huge loss. Don't you remember what it was like when I went away? That's how they feel only worse because they don't know when or how it will end. And the girl still loves you, silly. Suddenly you're no longer just her brother's friend but a co-worker. She's trying to be professional. Give her some space. You don't see the way she looks at you when you're not paying attention. That silly woman adores you, although why is beyond me the way you treat her!"

Her words made him feel ashamed. He had been so wrapped up in himself, he never thought about what the others had been going through. She was right, of course. The others had it as bad if not worse than he did and it was up to him to be the strong one. Perhaps he could be a little less self-involved and be more considerate of his friends.

He smiled at her and held her as tight as he was able. "You're right, I'm sorry. I'll try." "That's all any of us can do. Now go to sleep and everything will be better in the morning." She kissed him on the forehead and patted him on the shoulder. Softly she drifted away, melding back into the dark warmth.

He woke suddenly, puzzled by the sunlight pooling on the blanket. There was a growl of protest from the furry creature sleeping at the foot of his bed. Sometime during the night the wolf had left his new friend and come back to him. Smiling the man gave the animal a pat on the head and crawled out of bed. Going to the closet for a fresh uniform he was gladdened to hear noises from inside. Not wanting to bother the occupant, he continued getting dressed and went in search of breakfast. He was greeted cheerfully by the other constable and smiled in return.

After breakfast, checking the duty roster and making sure that everything was in order, he went off to the precinct house. The first person he saw was the girl, who broke out in a big smile. Quickly she put on her professional persona and trying to act nonchalant said a composed "Good morning, Constable."

"Good Morning to you too. You look particularly attractive today, Francesca. That colour really suits you." He gave her a smile and continued on his way, ignoring the look of surprise and pleasure she wore.

"Morning, Fraser" his partner said. "What'cha looking so happy about?"

"Well, Ray, I had a conversation with someone last night that made me realize that I'm a pretty lucky man. I've got friends that I care about and that care about me. And that it's about time that I start to show them. I'm lucky to have you as my friend. Isn't that a good enough reason to 'look happy'?"

Ray looked at the smiling man standing straight and proud in front of him. All he could do was shake his head and smile in return.

"Yeah, Fraser, I'm glad to see you too. What's say we go get a coffee and maybe a doughnut? I haven't had any breakfast yet and I'm starved."

"Ray, no wonder you're feeling grumpy. You need to eat better...."

The sound of the two friends arguing cheerfully wafted down the hallway as they went in search of breakfast.