TILE: And the Rest is Silence

AUTHOR: Anna McLain

RATING (S): Gpossibly a little depressing to some.

PAIRING (S): None

TEASER: Ben and Ray come to grips with the end of life as they know it.

SPOILERS: Tiny spoiler for VS, LG.

ARCHIVE: RSY, DuSC and Fraser's Library, if you want it. All others, please ask.

DISCLAIMER: These characters are not mine.

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"Now cracks a noble heart.

Goodnight, Sweet Prince,

And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

And the rest is silence."

--Horatio, Hamlet, Act V.

The tears slipped quietly down his cheeks, unchecked. The warm breeze ruffled his dark hair, curling the ends with humidity. He closed his blue-gray eyes and relished the feeling of fresh air, blowing across Lake Michigan and winding between the buildings to caress his cheeks. He might never feel it again.

He remembered what had meant the most to him, these past seven years, each image causing his heart to clench as it appeared. One by one, he accepted the images and feelings, saying good bye to each before letting them go. Acceptance lifted a trace of the burden from his shoulders, making it easier to breathe and think rationally. He straightened, wiping the dampness from his cheeks.

Ben Fraser stared silently out his front window. The slowly setting sun dipped toward the gray-blue tumult of the pond in front of his new apartment complex, serenely capping the waves diamond bright. The skyline was visible in the distance, silhouetted by the sunset. He studied the city of Chicago for what he knew would be the last time. He had grown fond of the city during his seven-year stay, not quite comfortable, not to a level of preference, but fond. Theirs was a love-hate relationship.

It isn't fair, he thought, there is so much beauty and good in the world. But life wasn't fair and it never had been. You took what came your way and did your best, preferably to improve the world and human condition.

All for naught.

And now, he would never see his beloved Canadian wilderness again. Inspector Pare refused his repeated requests for leave.

Beside him, his white wolf and faithful friend, Diefenbaker, stared up at him with knowing brown eyes. Resigned. How do the animals always know, he thought. Dief had realized and accepted the fact that life as they knew it was about to end forever, long before Ben even realized there was a fight. Before he gave up. Ben scratched the wolf's ears absently, giving in to a need for touch. He couldn't muster a smile. The enormity of the near future still weighed heavily on him. Dief would see right through the attempt at levity and denial anyway.

He sighed, picturing the snow painted Yukon beyond the dingy gray buildings and sparkling water. Oh, the Yukon and Northwest Territories would still be there, but altered for decades, possibly scarred forever--barren, lifeless, devoid of vegetation and all animal life, including humans.

So goes the world, passing into the dark winter night with a whimper.

And we thought we were better than the dinosaurs, he thought with a shiver despite the warmth of the evening.

A car horn blared insistently a few streets over, jarring him out of his sentimental mood. The sound echoed eerily through the nearly vacant streets and abandoned buildings.

He glanced at the backpack on the stripped bed, in the barren apartment. Ray would be there soon. Ray, his best friend, would stay with him and be his rock. Ben consciously chased away the last overt vestiges of his melancholy. He needed to be the strong one. Ray was giving up everything, except him, so he owed the man.

"You finished packin' yet, Benny?" Ray's soft query echoed from the bare walls.

Ben turned. His friend slouched in the doorway, Armani tie askew. Weariness and resignation, almost defeat, were evident in the droop of his shoulders and the bags under his green eyes.

Ben flashed a small smile at him, trying desperately to appear encouraging and hopeful. Without hope, a man had nothing. Ray looked older than he had a few short months before, years older.

"Of course, Ray," Ben said. "We didn't have much to pack."

Ray nodded distantly, green eyes following Dief's pacing. "We have two hours to get to the pick up site. There's a bus with our name on it. If we don't get on that bus it's all she wrote."

"She wrote what?" Ben asked, distracted as he slipped into his new used brown leather jacket. It resembled his favorite old jacket; the one the doctors had cut from him after Ray shot him. He felt compelled to buy it the instant he saw it. It felt like coming home. It fit him perfectly. He didn't notice if Ray answered his question, slinging his laden pack easily over his broad shoulders. His back twinged. Old wounds haunted him a little more each passing year. He took a deep breath to quell the tremors in his stomach.

Ray glanced around the room and smiled. "Maybe they'll give you a room without peeling paint." His chuckle sounded too loud in the empty space. The smile dropped from his face and he blinked back sudden hot tears. It was all happening too fast. He clung to the last tendrils of denial, even as the truth crushed his defenses.

Ben didn't really hear him. "Just one more check, Ray," he said cheerfully.

"They aren't gonna care if you leave the stove on, Benny. It doesn't matter anymore."

Ben jogged down the hall, sticking his head into the bathroom then the kitchen. "On the contrary, Ray," he called from down the hall, "everything matters all the more now. If everyone just gives up...well, then that really is all she wrote." He walked back into the living room, where he kept his bed because it was more open. The heels of his boots pounded as loudly in the barren space as though he'd been stomping. Ray winced with each heel strike.

Ben stopped at the brink of the hallway and regarded his disconsolate friend. "Ray," he said softly, glancing uncomfortably at the cracked tile floor. "I do appreciate your choice here. I know how difficult it must be."

"Which one?"

"Going with me instead of your family."

Ray shrugged and didn't meet his eyes. "Yeah, well, there was no choice, Benny. Besides, they got Tony and now that Franny's a Private Eye, they can take care of themselves. And you got nobody since Stanley went with his parents."

Dief whined in objection.

Ray glanced at him, face unreadable.

"I have Dief," Ben said with more cheer than he felt.

"Nobody who talks." Ray took a step back and let Ben pass through the doorway to the dimly lit hall. Ben flipped off the light with a last, lingering look around, then closed the door behind them. He sighed, staring for a moment at the closed door. He'd finally grown used to his new apartment. Ray clapped him on the shoulder.

"I know, Benny. We got a bus to catch."

Ben nodded, head down. Silently, he said goodbye to his apartment, his way of life; the new family he'd grown accustomed to.

His good-byes done, he took a deep shuddering breath and followed his best friend and former partner from the old building.

"You know, I wouldn't have been completely alone, Ray," he said, stowing his backpack in the trunk of Ray's Riv. "The new city will be filled with the former occupants of Toronto and the surrounding area."

"Well, there's alone...and there's alone," Ray said.

The ride in the Riv to the stadium was grueling. The streets as they drew closer teemed with cars going to the stadium and two other pickup points. The evacuation was nearly half-finished. As they inched over the Dan Ryan freeway, both men looked out the window. On the freeway a double line of buses crawled in either direction, like lemmings.

What an appropriate image, Ben thought. Lemmings running for the cliff in a giant mindless swarming mass.

Dief whined and Ben slipped an arm around him, absently offering comfort. The wolf found some joy in the first and last front seat ride he'd have in Ray's Buick Riviera. Ray felt generous. Soon, there would be more important things to deal with. Dief slid down, resting his muzzle on his packmate's thigh.

Ray sighed. The city of Chicago, reflected on the window glass and in his green eyes, looked somehow skeletal. Dead. Exanguinated. "I lived here my whole life," he whispered. "Hard to believe it'll all be gone in a month."

"Well, technically, it won't be 'gone', Ray, just uninhabitable."

"Same difference."

"Not exactly," Ben began, using the excuse to talk to shut out the despair that leaving brought him.

Ray tuned him out, not wanting to know anything more than that the wrath of God had finally come. The apocalypse. The end. He lost himself in a detached depression, memorizing the surreal details of the city he had called home. Benny's voice was a comforting background noise, if he didn't listen to the words.

"...A vast circular area of North America will then be obliterated or gone, as you put it. Even the damage that will spread out in concentric rings from the point of impact could be considered gone. However, Chicago, much of the U.S. and all of Canada will still be here." Ben shrugged, swallowing hard. "The worst of the disaster won't be the immediate damage, Ray. It will be the global climatic changes. Once the food chain is interrupted, the devastation will snowball. The dust cloud will block out the sun causing what scientists term 'nuclear winter.' Plantlife will die and the planet will freeze."

"A ghost town," Ray murmured to the skyline, his throat constricting painfully. Suddenly, he had trouble breathing.

Ben swallowed and frowned, running a finger along his eyebrow. It helped to think logically, to turn his mind away from the impending chaos. He had accepted their fate two years before, when they found out their fate was sealed. But with the deadline upon them, it was easy to plummet over the edge into the depths of despair. The past month had seen record numbers of suicides across the continent. Ben could understand their reasoning.

"There will be people who remain in the city, Ray. Some don't believe the threat is real. Some even believe it's an elaborate hoax perpetuated by the American government."

"Morons." Suddenly, Ray hit the dashboard violently. "Morons!" he shouted.

"We can't save those who won't help themselves, Ray." Ben touched his friend's arm lightly. "They'll survive...for a while. After that...who knows? Perhaps the cities will allow more people inside their domes."

"Great, we'll all have to go on a diet cause there won't be enough food."

"There'll most probably be rationing, Ray. From what I understand, the design for the new cities has been in the works for decades. So, they should be well prepared. And the system isn't completely isolated, like the failed Biosphere project in Arizona. These will filter and use outside air and water, so as to eliminate many many problems."

Ray sighed deeply as the stadium finally loomed in the distance. "Okay, okay. Give it a rest." He was quiet for a moment, then snarled and snapped, "Why didn't they just nuke it and take the chances with the smaller pieces?"

"Didn't you pay attention at any of the briefings, Ray?"

"I had more important stuff to think about."

"More important than the possible extinction of the human race?"

"Ma."

"Ah." Ben nodded. "Understood." He turned back to the window, turning over in his mind the events of the past seven years. As they entered the underground parking for the stadium he turned and looked over his shoulder. The setting sun bathed the city in warm gold, sparkling from the tallest buildings. It looked alive, warm and vibrant.

All gone, Ben thought, forever. "Good night, sweet prince and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest," he whispered.

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Finis

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