by Basingstoke
Author's website: http://www.ravenswing.com/~bas
Disclaimer:
Author's Notes: For Speranza for her birthday.
Story Notes:
The Divine Comedy:
Five things that never happened to Benton Fraser.
by Basingstoke. For Speranza for her birthday.
*
When had he last seen him? They'd last talked at Christmas; he'd given a knife and received a volume of Black American revolutionary poetry.
"I was told that you were in charge of this case," Fraser said.
But seen... oh, he remembered when they'd last seen each other. New Year's, at twilight, when they'd passed each other on dogsled like two ships in the night.
They hadn't spoken a word, then. They hadn't needed to.
"Oh, yeah, the dead Mountie thing, like I couldn't have guessed. Look, I've got your list of names right here, and the moment I get a chance I'm going to go to the computer, pick up the phone, and get right back to you so you can go back to your rocking chair and pipe, all right?"
He slapped the American cop across the face.
The room went silent. The cop stared at him, first in shock and then in anger. "That Mountie was my son," Fraser said. "And I see we've got nothing to talk about."
Fraser strode outside, leaving the Yanks behind. Buck was sitting on the steps rebandaging the feet of Benton's wolf. The animal had abrasions on its pads from its vengeful, futile chase after the snowmobiles of Benton's killers. He was a loyal creature.
"There's no help here," Fraser said. "We'll just have to do this ourselves."
"It's a jungle out there. An urban jungle," Buck said. The wolf looked up and barked; it had gotten a black ribbon around its neck somewhere along the line. Buck was far too indulgent of him.
Fraser reseated his hat on his head and rubbed the wolf behind his ear. "And there are criminals loose in it--so let's go."
*
2. Prudence.
Francesca was a wonderfully warm and languid form in his arms when he awoke. She was smiling, softly, as she slept; her red lipstick was entirely gone.
Or rather--Fraser looked down at himself--it was kissed all over his body.
He felt quite at ease with that.
Francesca shifted; her eyes opened, and she smiled like the first shafts of sunlight over an Arctic plain. "Good morning, Benton."
"Good morning, Francesca. Isn't it a lovely morning?"
"Oh yeah." She embraced him. "It sure is. Hey, do you want some eggs? I can make eggs. And toast. I'm great with toast."
Fraser kissed her knuckles. Oh!--woman's petal-soft skin.
"Ooh! You, um, be careful where you go with that, because my brother's home, and you know how he is," she said as she rolled her slight body atop Fraser's, and then kissed him. Marvelous--marvel enough that Fraser lost his balance on the edge of the bed and they both fell off entirely.
"I'm so terribly sorry!" Fraser exclaimed, feeling like a cad. He attempted to aid Francesca to her feet, but instead she clambered back into his arms.
"We're good," she said. She was sweet as--Fraser cast about for a suitable metaphor, distracted by her lips on his throat.
They both jumped as they heard a pounding at the door. "Hey, you okay in there?" Ray called.
"Fine, Ray!" Francesca shouted back. Fraser recoiled slightly.
"I heard banging around like you fell!" Ray said--and the door opened.
Francesca seized the sheet from the bed. Ray stepped inside, and his eyes widened. He pointed at Fraser wordlessly.
"Ray! Get out of my room!" Francesca cried.
"You slept with my sister!"
"Oh dear," Fraser said, wishing fervently for a larger sheet.
"I can sleep with whoever I want!" Francesca leaned over and whipped her bathrobe from the back of a chair, knocking the chair over in the process.
Ray nearly leapt with indignation. "Benny! You slept with my sister!"
"Take a chill pill, Ray!" She scrambled into her bathrobe without showing a further inch of skin and relinquished the sheet to Fraser.
"I, er," Fraser began. He realized then that he had nothing to say.
Ray pointed at him once more. "You and me! Come on!"
"Excuse me?"
"Ray, don't be a jerk!" Francesca stood with her hands on her hips.
Fraser slowly righted himself beside her. "Ray, I don't know if this is--"
Ray seized his elbow and forced him out into the hall. "Put 'em up!"
"Put what up?"
Ray raised his fists. "Put up your dukes, Fraser!"
"This is entirely unnecessary," Fraser said as he secured the sheet around his waist. But Ray seemed quite serious, so he took a pugilistic stance.
"Hey! Ray!" Ray turned to Francesca and Francesca punched him in the jaw. Ray staggered, looking astounded, and then fell. "That's for macho bullcrap," she declared.
Ray mumbled and lolled on the floor.
"So you want some eggs, Fraser? And toast? With jam? We have some great jam." Francesca turned wide eyes on him. She rubbed her reddened knuckles.
"Yes?" Fraser ventured.
Francesca beamed.
*
3. Faith.
Ray's hair was limp and his expression dazed. The cut on his forehead served as an exclamation point to his condition.
"What is important, if I may recap," Fraser said, "is that you were lured to a meeting with a gangland figure, and at this meeting, the gangland figure was murdered, an event of which you have no memory. The uniformed officer arrived, you resisted arrest, and you then fled the scene of the homicide. Do you agree these are the facts of the scenario?"
"Did I just say that or do I have a head injury?" Ray asked plaintively.
"You did indeed," Fraser said. He pulled back the drapes and looked out over the quiet street, remembering... Victoria.
Victoria and a cave made from his coat, lined with the ice of their breath.
"Don't do that million-miles-away thing, Fraser, not right now."
"I'm here, I assure you." Victoria as he released her, as she walked away, snowflakes caught in her hair.
"What the hell do I do?"
"Turn yourself in." Fraser turned his back on the window and faced Ray. "See Lieutenant Welsh immediately and explain the situation. I'm sure the truth will come to light. It always does."
Ray with blood on his face looked nothing like Victoria with snow in her hair. The shock in his eyes was nothing like the triumph in hers. Victoria had walked out of his arms and away from her crime; Ray would not.
The truth always came to light. Twelve years behind a desk had given him ample time to reflect. "There's no use delaying the inevitable, Ray. Welsh is a good man. He'll assist you in your defense."
"Yeah--yeah, you're probably right. I just can't think straight, I'm all rattled up." Ray rubbed his temples vigorously. "You, uh, I haven't got my car. I better call a cab."
Fraser nodded and picked up the phone. "I'll go with you."
When he turned himself in for his crime, he had walked alone. Ray was a lucky man.
*
4. Solemnity.
"What are you guys exactly?" Ray asked, giving them the hairy eyeball.
"CSID," Ramsey said.
"It's like the CIA," Tsei said. She made it real clear that she thought he was too dumb to know that.
"Only *Canadian,*" Mansfield said firmly. He looked a little edgier than might be expected.
"Yeah, Canadian, I got that the first six times," Ray said. "Our Canadian is on the way. You can talk beavers with him when he arrives."
"Just uncuff us," Ramsey said. "We'll be good boys. And girl."
"If I uncuff you it'll only be to tie your ankles to your elbows. I got plenty of that kung fu crap already," Ray said, resettling the ice pack on his head.
"Our government really is not going to be happy about this," Tsei said. "Really, really not happy."
"At least uncuff me," Mansfield said, looking even more uncomfortable.
Ray squinted at him. "Why? You gotta pee or something?"
Mansfield looked at the floor.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me." Ray stood up, slamming his chair back. "I'm going over there until Fraser gets here," he spat, gesturing in the general direction of the break room.
As he stalked across the room, still holding the ice pack to his head, he grabbed Dewey. "Take the guy in the leather jacket to the can, okay? But don't uncuff him. He's wily." The other two were ribbing Mansfield, who was staring determinedly at the floor. Eesh.
Dewey scowled. "How am I supposed to do that? Am I supposed to--hey, Vecchio! I don't swing that way!"
Ray rolled his eyes and turned around, bumping square into Fraser's chest. "Fraser!"
"Ray! I'm sorry I'm late. I stopped to apprehend three clowns in the process of robbing a fur emporium." And sure enough, three clowns were being wrestled down the hall.
"No big. Hey, you know how to check for brain damage? That asshole over there kicked me in the noodle." Ray showed Fraser the bump on his head.
"Well, first you go to the hospital, and you really shouldn't be walking around..." Fraser pulled down Ray's eyelids one by one, staring right into his head. "Did you see blue at the moment of impact?"
"Nah, mostly black."
Fraser pulled a flashlight out of his hat and shone it into Ray's eyes. "What's the first thing that pops into your head when I say 'capybara'?"
"Linguine."
"You're fine." Fraser nodded sharply. "I'm given to understand that you have arrested a trio of Canadian citizens?"
Ray narrowed his eyes. "So they claim. Me, I'm not so sure. When they kicked me? They didn't apologize."
And a voice behind them said, "Ahem."
They turned and saw a woman, and what a woman. Skirt up to there, hair down to *there,* phew--a sight for sore eyes. She flipped open an ID and Fraser looked startled. "I'll be taking your clowns," she said.
Ray blinked. "Which clowns? We got your pick today."
"All of them. A few of them, unfortunately, are my employees." She sauntered between them, smooth as jazz, sure as a freight train.
Ray elbowed Fraser. "Can she do that?"
"I rather think she can, Ray, given her station, though if you prefer, I can make a few phone calls--"
"VECCHIO!"
Ray jumped back into the squad room. Welch was standing beside his desk with the lady and her bozos. "Sir!"
"Key." Welch wiggled his fingers. Ray tossed him his key ring. After a moment's thought, he tossed him another key ring as well. "Our esteemed associates to the north were on the trail of these colorful fugitives when they crossed your path, Detective," Welch said.
"Our associates here didn't have any freaking ID," Ray said.
The lady crossed her arms. "And I'll speak to them about that. Later. Come along, children." She snapped her fingers and they jumped.
The lady marched her troops back out. Mansfield paused as he passed Ray and said, "Hey. Sorry about the whole..." He gestured at Ray's head.
Ray shifted his ice pack, feeling a little sorry for the guy. At least his boss didn't snap his fingers. "No hard feelings. Glad to see you got your clowns."
"Thanks." Mansfield turned to leave.
"Guess he is Canadian," Ray muttered, then shouted, "Can's on the left!"
Mansfield veered to the left.
Fraser sighed. Welch sighed. Ray said, "What?"
"What a woman," Welch said.
"I must admit I would have liked to speak with them before they left," Fraser said.
"Accent making you homesick?"
"Well, they didn't have accents per se, not that you would distinguish--"
"Because I can say 'aboot' if it would make you feel better," Ray said.
"Er."
"Aboot!"
"Kindly stop that."
"Or you'll knock me aboot the head?"
"Really, Ray."
*
5. Normalcy.
Fraser knocked on the door, sharply and firmly.
Dief whined. "Ray is always glad to see us," Fraser answered.
After a few moments, Ray answered the door with only one eye opened. "Fraser. You sure I ain't dreaming you? Cause I'm not so sure."
"Quite sure, Ray, and I'm terribly sorry to show on your doorstop so early in the morning. Something quite extraordinary has happened."
"We gotta chase the bad guys?" Ray was weaving back and forth on his feet.
"No."
"Then fill me in while I sleep," Ray said, as he turned and headed toward his bedroom.
Dief trotted into the living room, jumped onto the couch and curled up. Fraser hung his hat on the closet hook and locked the door. "I'm not sure that would be an effective example of multi-tasking, Ray."
"Whuh?"
Fraser turned the corner. Ray was curled on his side on the bed. "Lay down," Ray mumbled. "You dream and I dream and you can tell me that way."
"And I am sure--oh, never mind." Fraser settled onto the bed beside Ray.
"S'what's up?"
"I seem to have acquired super powers," Fraser said, feeling ridiculous.
"Where's your cape?"
Fraser frowned. "We've been through that, Ray. Anyway. I have the power to force the speech patterns of others to conform to the rules of polite discourse. I have the power to regulate traffic behavior. And I have the power to summon a perfect cup of tea."
"Not seeing the 'new' part, Fraser," Ray said into the pillow.
"I assure you they are, and I may yet have more that I haven't yet discovered. I appear to have gained these powers through accidental ingestion of a radioactive isotope. It was shockingly careless of me, but I am showing no effects apart from these new powers." Fraser looked over.
Ray was asleep, smiling widely.
Fraser sighed. "Well, I suppose we'll discuss it in the morning." He looked down at himself and his boots removed themselves from his feet and settled at the foot of the bed; the dirt vanished from Ray's covers. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes to sleep.
The end.
End The Divine Comedy by Basingstoke: bas@yosa.com
Author and story notes above.