Title: Yellow Submarine
Author: Debbie Hann, January 2000
Rating: G
Genre: None
Category: Episode Related
Pairings: None
Spoilers: Mountie on the Bounty
Teaser: Ray and Fraser drive back to Chicago.
Of course these characters don't belong to me, but to Alliance . . . and "Yellow Submarine," isn't mine either . . . don't look much like John or Paul!
Profuse thanks to the whole group of you who read this for me! You all are great betas!
~*~*~*~*~*~
The night air felt soft on the back of his knuckles and flowing up his arm. It wasn't cold enough to chill the metal of the car door beneath his fingers, but the wind was enough to ruffle the spiky tips of his hair.
It felt good to have good old American heavy metal beneath him again. Way better than a boatship. He still couldn't believe he had been on a wooden ship, climbed up the rigging, and played buccaneer by swinging over to the bad guys' ship. Then again, it was just another in a long line of wildly bizarre ways his partner had endangered his life.
His partner.
Ray Kowalski shot a look out of the corner of his eye at his partner, a half smile tilting his mouth.
Yeah, partner. They'd gotten it back. Things were good. The staleness was gone, communication was back and flowing. It was greatness.
Back and forth, kinda like that gun he had thrown to Fraze on the boat. He'd known just what Fraze wanted. Watching the gun sail through the air and land solidly in the Mountie's hand had really been a turning point. He'd known for sure that the crap between them was burned away, erased, deleted.
'Or maybe 'popped' would be a better word,' he thought with another half-grin. 'Maybe the pressure in that sardine can of a sub had popped it.'
Whatever.
He was just stoked to get it back. He'd almost blown it. Shifting his hand on the steering wheel, the still sore skin pulled across his knuckles, and he thought about the way it'd stung when he punched Fraser. 'Course, it wasn't nearly as bad as the sting in his eyes or his lungs as he realized what he'd done and watched the shock and hurt and defeat dim his friend's eyes.
It'd sucked. He'd sucked.
But that was done. Over. Finito. Water under the bridge. Yesterday's news.
The last of his frustrations and anger had dripped away.
Some of it would come back, he was sure, cuz Fraser was, after all, Fraser, but he wasn't gonna let it get to that level again. The duet he had with Fraser was just too good to damage.
Now he felt . . . happy, pumped. Couldn't wait to get back to Chicago and see what kind of trouble Fraze was gonna get him into next.
Mr. Instinct and Logic Boy together again.
Eagerness bubbling through him, he eased down on the gas pedal, eating up the miles back to the city.
Feeling the car accelerate under him, Fraser felt the surge of energy coming from the man in the driver's seat and tensed a bit, wondering if he'd done something to annoy Ray and shatter the newfound accord between them.
His momentary worry eased almost immediately, however, when Ray started whistling.
The whistling was almost tuneful. It sounded like he was blowing the air through his teeth rather than his lips, but it was clarifying itself into a melody.
'Ah!' Identification clicked in.
"I hadn't realized you were a Beatles fan, Ray."
"What, Fraze? Beatles? Oh, yeah! Greatest band ever. Always wanted to be George," he finished, scratching his nose.
Returning his hand to the window, a question occurred to him. "What madeja think o' that?"
"You were whistling, Ray."
"I was? Didn't realize."
"'Yellow Submarine,' if I'm not mistaken."
Ray laughed, his happiness spilling out another way now. "Fits, doesn't it," he said around chuckles. "Who would'a thought I'd ever be in a yellow submarine?" He cocked another look at Fraser. "I'm just as happy to not 'live beneath the waves,' buddy."
"As am I, Ray."
The faint glow from the dashboard lit his grin. "Full speed ahead, Fraze?"
"Right you are, Ray."
Dief leaned forward and put his head on Ray's shoulder as they continued sliding through the night, part of a team. Partners.
Fin
Copyright Deborah Hann, January 2000