Hi All! Well for some reason this very novice writer, (and you'll see I really do mean novice), felt inspired to write the following piece entitled WAITING. For those that haven't seen VICTORIA'S SECRET or LETTING GO, beware this will be a spoiler for those episodes. Because they didn't show us the scenes after Ray running alongside Fraser's gurney in the hospital and the 3 week period after that, I kept thinking about how Ray must have felt/acted just after the incident. There's some great missing scenes that your imagination just has to fill in for those. Elyse Dickenson did her part for us with filling in the scene when Ray returned home to the Fraser Tornado aftermath. Thank-you kindly Elyse. I had wanted so very much to see that too.
If you're wondering why its so stream of consciousness and choppy, with no paragraphs to separate time/scenes/etc, I really did mean to do it on purpose. I wanted it to parallel the edginess, chaotic thinking, angst/guilt ridden blur atmosphere of what my main character is going through. I haven't a clue if it works out the way I hoped. You be the judge. I'm still not satisfied with it. Now I know why editors and critics are actually handy to have around.;->
Jennifer Swanson
KAGJ89A@prodigy.com
After the gurney carrying his friend passed through the operating room doors, he was pushed away gently by a nurse and guided to a waiting room near by. She was saying something to him, but it wasn't registering. She placed a clipboard in his hands, as he sat in a hard plastic seat. He nodded, not really knowing why, and she left him. His head was whirling and his heart was pounding heavy in his chest. What had he done? He felt sick to his stomach. What had he done? He feared that he might never see his friend alive again. Stop. Can't think like that. Benny was gonna pull through. He had to. Ray didn't want to live the rest of his life knowing he had killed his best friend. Best friend. Yeah. That's what the mountie had become to him in such a short time. When Ben pulled through. That's the right type of thinking now. How could he forgive him? Would he forgive him? Well no matter what, he had to be there for him. Would always be there for him, whether he wanted him there or not. A shadow fell over the medical form he was barely seeing and on autopilot filling out. A hand rested on his shoulder and squeezed. His haunted eyes looked up finally to see Lt Welsh standing there. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat and wanted to say something... anything... but the words wouldn't come. What words could be said to right what he had done? None. What was that Welsh said? Review board hearing tomorrow? Not to worry. How could he not worry? He just seriously injured someone who had become to him like a brother. It should be that #@* Victoria lying in there, not Benny. He must have nodded and responded at the right spots, because he was now left alone again. He was startled awake. When did he doze off? A crash cart went by the waiting room door. A rush of people intent on some sort of emergency following after it. His adrenaline was pumping now from the abrupt awakening and the commotion. That wasn't for Benny was it? He followed after. A hand reached out to stop him. "Mr. Vecchio. Mr. Vecchio?" It was the nurse again. She assured him the crash cart wasn't for Benny. He relaxed a little at that and let her lead him back to the waiting room. She took the form he had placed on the chair, reviewed it briefly and satisfied, she left. Someone grabbed his hand. Looking over at the owner, he saw that it was Elaine. She was still wearing her Civilian Aide uniform. Must have just got off from work. Work. He had a shift coming up in a couple of hours. Didn't he? What time was it anyway? He'd lost track as soon as he got here with Ben. He couldn't hold Elaine's gaze for long. He shifted his eyes away and down. Those sad eyes looking at him. Not wanting to accuse, but accusing nonetheless. He knew how she felt about the mountie. How could she stand being in the same room with him? Let alone hold his hand. He gradually slipped his hand from out of her's. He didn't deserve it. He was thankful Frannie was down in Florida. He definitely couldn't face her right now and her mouth. Man, would she tear him apart when she found out. Well actually it would serve him right. Frannie as punishment for what he'd done was in a strange way a form of justice. If there were a hell.. yeah there's a hell... this nightmare he was living in now must be it. How'd that cup of coffee get into his hands? He didn't remember getting it. But he must have or did someone give it to him? It was cold now anyway. He barely touched it at all. He put it down on the table next to him. Noticing for the first time that Welsh was back and studying him. How long had he been there? Welsh was asking questions now. Any word on Fraser yet? He answered back what he had been told when he hounded the nurses periodically during his vigil. Nothing yet. Still in surgery. He saw that Elaine was still there too. But now curled up on a couple of the seats fast asleep. He couldn't sit any more. He paced for a while and eventually went to stand by the window. It was morning now. He looked out at the people below going to and from work or home or wherever. They were oblivious to the the tragedy that occurred ... was occurring... and the tortured man watching them from the hospital window above. From the reflection on the glass, he saw a figure in surgical greens approach. He closed his eyes briefly. Quickly saying a small prayer in his head, before he turned to face the man. He gathered together all the strength he had left; to hear either what he most dreaded or what he could only pray for. Had he heard him right? Fraser made it through the surgery, but what was that other part? Too close to the what did he call it? Fixed what damage there was that they could. Couldn't take the bullet out without risk of ... Aw @#*. That last part was said in his head. Not aloud. The itemization of the physical damage he had caused his friend was being burned as a brand in his brain. The doctor continued. Fraser still wasn't clear of danger. Next 48 hours were most critical. He was still under sedation and would be moved to ICU shortly. As he thanked the doctor, he asked to see for himself that Fraser was still with them. At the door to the ICU his legs almost betrayed him. Was this such a good idea? He forced himself to walk the short distance necessary to cross to Fraser's bedside. He looked so much more pale than was normal. He was breathing wasn't he? At first he was afraid to touch him. But the need to make sure he was alive, overrode the fear. He placed his hand over his friend's cold one. 'Friend'- he could still call him that couldn't he? The old addage, with a Vecchio twist, came unbidden out of his mouth "With a friend like me, who needs enemies? Guess I should turn in my marksman trophies, hunh?" Why was he talking like this? When he wanted to say: How sorry he was. How terrible he felt about hurting him. How much he valued their friendship. How badly he wanted to take away all the pain he brought on. Leaning forward a bit, so that he was close enough, that maybe Fraser would hear the next words to come out of his mouth - "Please forgive me." A few seconds later he felt Fraser shift a bit under his hand. Then... Was he saying something back? It was just barely a whisper. What? Oh God, he's calling her name. He barely made it out of the ICU and into a secluded supply closet. With his back against the wall, he slowly slid down it to the floor, as he lost what control he had left of holding back the guilt, the grief, the anger, the remorse... that had been threatening to overwhelm him since this whole hellish mess began.
The End