Author's webpage: http://www.sirius.com/~lshapiro/vanity

TITLE: Fluorescence
SERIES: This brief vignette is Part II of my series called "Coming to Light".
AUTHOR: Laura Shapiro
FEEDBACK: God, yes. Laura@humandesign.com
ARCHIVE: Sure, but please ask me first.
RATING: PG...for now
SPOILERS: The Deal, An Invitation to Romance, Heaven and Earth
SUMMARY: Fraser twists on a hook he made himself.
DISCLAIMER: If they belonged to me they'd get what they deserve, especially Franny. Note: a line or two of dialogue blatantly stolen.
SPECIAL THANKS: To Te, for pointing out that the story needed this bit, and listening to me ramble.

It had been a bad week. Fraser didn't like to look at it that way; he preferred to focus on the good things, to keep a positive outlook. It was less of a preference, really, than something natural to him. He rarely had to think about it, he just naturally looked on the bright side. But after evaluating it from all sides, Fraser was forced to conclude that the last week had been truly appalling.

It should have been simple, straightforward: Benton Fraser kept his promises. Benton Fraser upheld the code of honor. Benton Fraser, to put it crudely, didn't tell tales out of school.

But there was another sort of promise, another code entirely, that demanded that he tell Ray what his sister had done: the promise of their partnership, the code of their friendship. He was honor-bound by the former. The latter was the pride of his heart. More than that he could never hope for between them.

So when he had risen the morning after his confrontation (and no, he wasn't thinking of the beating he'd received at the hands of Frank Zuko's men -- a part of him that he didn't want to examine too closely insisted that he'd gladly take the same again, and more, if it would help Ray), he was immediately aware of several new kinds of pain.

And seeing Ray was worse. The moral conflict was very real, but almost eclipsed by the jarring realization that he had (nearly) voiced his feelings -- he had owned them. And here, standing before him bathed in the greenish light of the station and demanding irritably to know why he wasn't at home in bed, was the source of those feelings. Fraser looked at him and was mortified. He could never tell his best friend what he felt, yet he'd blurted it out to his sister in a terrifying, yet oddly illuminating, wash of tears.

He'd left almost immediately, reporting to the Consulate rather than heading for home and bed and (god) endless empty hours in which he'd be forced to *think*. But the Inspector on duty had taken one look at him and decided he was unfit for his usual post; no human punching bag was going to stand guard at *his* front door. So he fobbed off some paperwork on Fraser and he was able to lose himself, briefly, in copying, collating, stapling, and filing. Blessed release.

Unfortunately, he couldn't avoid Ray for long. There had been the infuriating affair of Ms. Burns, a blunder of colossal proportions into which he'd managed to drag his partner, nearly getting him killed in the process. Fraser had had time for one introspective moment in that hellish day, pulling the thread from his tunic and envisioning, briefly, taking the kind of emotional risk Ms. Burns was capable of. But Ray, after all, was Ray, and such speculation was pointless.

Every day, it was more difficult to keep the secret, and more imperative that he do so. To hide from Ray such vital information about Francesca -- Ray, who put his family before everything else -- felt like a violation. And yet, to tell him would be every bit as much of a violation: of Francesca, and of himself.

Of course, Fraser also swung unpleasantly on the hook of self- recrimination: weren't these all just rationalizations? Whom, after all, was he really trying to protect?

In the end, he realized it was possible to lighten his conscience somewhat without revealing any of the more troubling aspects of his...experience with Francesca. It sickened him to admit that he was, technically, still breaking his promise to her. But perhaps if he left out the details...

"Saturday last your sister came to my apartment in the middle of the night, dressed in what can only be described as less than requisite attire, and offered herself to me."

"...my sister?"

Ray's violent reaction was not wholly unanticipated. But in the darkness of the supply closet, Fraser allowed himself a painful swallow. He'd hoped that Ray would understand without his having to say so that, of course, he had not slept with Francesca. Ray's distrust wounded him deeply.

And of course, things had only worsened from there, what with Elaine's outrage, Garrett's accusation, and the subsequent grilling at the hands of one of the FBI's more annoying representatives. And through it all, Ray never let up; every chance he got, he was demanding that Fraser tell him the truth about what had happened that night in his apartment. Every time Ray asked, Fraser hurt a little more. Every time he had to refuse to answer, Fraser felt the wedge of dishonesty driving them further apart.

In the unforgiving fluorescence of the interrogation room, Ray's depth of feeling for his sister warmed Fraser to his soul, so much so that he was almost able to forgive himself for witnessing a conversation that should have been private. Yet the pain was intense. Watching his partner's transformation from irascible flatfoot to doting brother made Fraser want Ray more than ever.

So much for looking on the bright side.

END OF PART II