VIGIL

By Jennifer

M/M R

I sit in the passenger seat of Ray's GTO and wait. The radio plays and I listen with interest at American "alternative" music. Beth Botrelle had asked to see Ray. And without hesitation, Ray went to her. I know Ray needs forgiveness, redemption. And it seems Ms. Botrelle is willing to give it to him. Even after those eight years. A rookie mistake that had given her eight years on death row. That had her close to execution several times. Seconds away from execution the last time. Yet, she's willing to absolve him of all his blunders and faults. She's forgiving him. She's taking the blame from him.

I wait for almost thirty minutes for Ray to return. He takes his place in the driver's seat of the car. He sits there for several minutes, silent. I keep the silence with him. A vigil. And then a whimper escapes his throat and he begins to cry. Uncontrolled unfettered weeping. It unnerves me at first. Such displays of emotion are alien to me. Yet, somehow, I understand him.

I reach my arm across the seat and touch Ray's shoulder. He continues to weep, earnest and strong.

"Ray," I say delicately, being careful not to make him self-conscious. "Ray, it's OK now."

"It's not OK, Fraser. It will never be OK."

"She's free now."

"Eight years," Ray chokes on the lump in his throat. "Eight years..."

I slide closer to him, putting my arm around his shoulder. Ray accepts the comfort and buries himself in my embrace. His sobbing slows, until only there is only scattered breathing.

"Shhh," my voice grows softer, my compassion for him overwhelming me. I can feel the dampness of his tears on my neck. "It will be Ok, Ray." My hand slides into his hair, soft and bushy. I must admit it is a strangely erotic feeling. I gently push him back and we face each other. Sadness nestles there in his eyes.

"Ray, you have to forgive yourself. You'll never move on if you don't." I know that all too well.

"How Fraser? How do I forgive myself for this?" More tears form in his eyes and trickle down his cheeks.

I wipe the tears away. "I can't answer that, Ray. Only you can answer that. You have to look inside here." I palm the left side of his chest. Again, strangely erotic. And suddenly, I can't help myself. I had given him life once before... the Henry Allen, buddy breathing. Maybe I can again. I lean toward him, watching his face for any sign of rebuff. When none is forthcoming, I continue further until my mouth meets with his. I can taste his sadness and need in the salt of his tears. His mouth opens, devouring my strength, taking what he needs. And I don't mind. I can feel him shaking again. Fear this time. We have so much to lose from this moment's indiscretion. But my good sense drown in him as my mouth leaves his and traces the line of his jaw, his five o'clock shadow scratching my lips. I can feel myself stiffen, my control falling away. Ray crushes himself against me, his leg finding its way between mine, grazing me. I can hear the music... "Something is different the colors are shimmering---And your breathing gets quicker and your arms start to stiffen"... I can feel the blood coursing through his body. My senses heighten... Ray gasps and pulls my lips back to his... His tongue lashes into my mouth... The music... "Movement and quality are somehow in harmony--And you might like to linger but you're feeling kinetic".... Ray's shaking slows... His body stiffens... the music... It's happening for him too... Our mouths part... He looks at me...

"Thank you Fraser, " he chokes.

"Anytime Ray."

He drives me home. I get out of the car and hold my hat in front of me at my waist. I slowly ascend the Consulate stairs. I unlock the door. I turn to Ray and wave. He waves back, guns the engine of the GTO, and drives away. I enter the building, making a mental note to launder my jeans...

Music from the song titled VIGIL by Tribe

Disclaimer... I don't own anything here just a completely unhinged mind...