Rating: PG. If that. Maybe even G.
Summary: In "You Must Remember This" (think way back...before there was a Ray Vecchio up of hair and so impatient as to actually be able to "die a' waiting"...somewhere before season 3...), Fraser spills out his pain to a sleeping partner. What if this was more than a one time thing...and what if he continues this practice after the Great Ray Switch? Story takes place right after "Ladies Man".
Notes: Feedback is food, feed the starving writers. Encouragements or criticisms can be sent to bluecast@yahoo.com.
Katapult!! You owe me one now, you whip cracking slave driver!! *g*
This is unbeta'd, so it may just be chock full of mistakes. I apologise
in advance.
Dream a Little Dream of Me
by Tara Blue
Sweet dreams, till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams, what ever they be
Dream a little dream of me
Ray didn't so much as twitch an eyelid. He was dead to the world.
Fraser leaned back in his chair, flicking a quick thumb over his eyebrow while he thought. The noise of the television continued on, providing a low background buzz to his thoughts. Then he began to speak, his voice low and even so as not to wake the sleeping man lying on the couch.
"I know these past few days have been very hard on you, Ray. Believe me, I know. I saw you getting drawn and haggard, I saw the dark circles under your eyes grow darker and puffier with each passing day. I know that you haven't slept since going to talk to Beth Botrelle in the prison. Not until now, in any case."
Ray shifted a little, his tear-swollen eyelids twitching a little. Fraser froze and fell silent until Ray again settled down. Waiting again to make sure the man was really asleep, the Mountie took the time to gather his thoughts, organise what he wanted to say.
"I could see the weight of the guilt resting on your shoulders, even though you tried to hide it. Try still to hide the guilt that remains. Maybe it's because I recognise too well the sight of hidden guilt. I spent years seeing it in the mirror each morning.
"But I suppose you know nothing about that. I told Ray, Ray Vecchio, about it once. The, uh, first Ray Vecchio. He was sleeping, too. I...I think I need to talk some times, and it's easier when I know you aren't really hearing me. Would you like to hear about it, too, Ray? Would it perhaps make you feel better to know that you aren't the only one who makes mistakes?
Fraser leaned back in his chair, resting his palms face down on his legs, consciously forcing each muscle in his back to relax. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "There was a woman once. She robbed a bank in Alaska, then fled with her partners into the Northwest Territories. The RCMP were asked to track her down and bring her back. Many of us were looking for her, but I was the one who found her, half frozen in the midst of a snow storm. She and I nearly died.
"She recited a poem to me - "The Windhover", by Hopkins. 'I caught this morning morning's minion, king-dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon'. I put her fingers inside of my mouth to keep from them from freezing. She had the most beautiful voice. She had small hands. She had hair as dark as her insides, as cliched as that sounds.
"I loved her, you know. I loved her for a very long time, and carried around a weight of guilt for turning her in. For, of course, I did turn her in. You know me, Ray, perhaps better than anyone else has for years. I am a Mountie, to the very core of me. I turned her in. And she went to jail."
Fraser allowed his eyes to drift close as he spoke, still careful to keep his voice measured. "Then one day she came back. In the middle of the street, in a light fall of snow, in Chicago. I was eating chicken. And I still loved her. But she tried to kill me. She tried to kill Dief. She tried to kill Ray Vecchio. She saw my guilt and used it against me.
"I understand guilt, Ray. I understand it well. I felt guilty for sending her to prison. I felt guilty for what she did to Ray Vecchio after she got out. I felt guilty for what I did to Ray Vecchio for her. I felt guilty for making Ray Vecchio feel guilty for shooting me. Perhaps he should have been aiming for me in the first place, but he instead he was trying to save me from her."
Fraser smiled sadly, and opened his eyes again. "In time, Ray, the guilt will fade. It will shrink from the world to a cross to barely a twinge across your shoulders. Maybe one day it will even go away. I don't know. Mine hasn't yet.
"But, no matter what, Ray, I am here. You can always turn to me, for I will always be here. You are not alone, you need not ever be afraid. I understand, and I am here."
Fraser felt much freer for having had his say, as he always did after talking so openly to his sleeping friend. If the other man had been awake, Fraser knew he'd have been unable to talk about anything more personal than an Inuit story with him. Asleep, Ray was safe.
Fraser stood and gathered up his Serge and Stetson. Pausing, he took half a moment to pull the blanket that had been tossed over the back of the couch down and spread it over his sleeping partner. On his way to the door, he flicked off the television, leaving a room dark and silent in which the click of the closing door, followed by the solid sound of a deadbolt being set, echoed loud.
In the dark, Ray opened his eyes and sat up.
Ray had never told his partner what a light sleeper he was.
He had never let on that he always woke up with the first soft, inquisitive 'Ray?'
Because, always, he was there for Fraser.
End.