Close Your Eyes.	Close Your Eyes.

 by Basingstoke

  

 Author's Website: http://www.ravenswing.com/bas

 Disclaimer: 

 Author's Notes: Thanks to Laura Jacquez Valentine for the beta.

 Story Notes: Pairing: Fraser/Victoria.

 

 

 close your eyes. 

 * 

 Ray looked around. The little cafe was full of students and shop-workers
on their lunch breaks. Damn, he should have checked. The couple in front
of him in line just took the last table. 

 Well, there was a table that only had one guy at it, and Canadians were
friendly. "Can I sit here?" 

 The man glanced up. "By all means." He was well-built in a lumberjack
kind of way, plaid shirt and all, but looked worn and exhausted. He had
short-cropped dark hair and wide grey eyes. He seemed to look straight
through Ray, barely seeing him. 

 Ray sat at the other side of the small table. "Thanks. The place filled
up fast, huh?" He spit his gum into a paper napkin. 

 The man nodded. 

 Ray bit into his chicken sandwich hungrily, downing half of it before
starting on the sweet potato chips. The other man was watching the
sidewalk through the window, playing with his French fries. He ate them
very slowly, one at a time. The squabbling of the starlings and pigeons
and the sounds of the traffic drifted in with the warm breeze through the
open top pane of the windows. 

 "Hey, um--do you live here?" 

 The man looked back at Ray and shook his head. "Passing through." 

 "Oh." 

 The man straightened up just a little. His eyes focused and he seemed to
see Ray for the first time. "Do you require some assistance?" 

 "I guess." He shrugged. "I'm just looking for a place to crash. Tired of
sleeping in the car. Do you know any cheap hotels?" 

 "There's a bed and breakfast two blocks south with very reasonable rates.
Halcyon Inn. I suggested that we stop there, but--" The man shut his mouth
firmly and looked down at his plate. 

 Ray knew that look. "The wife didn't like it?" 

 "No. She didn't." 

 "Been there." Had he ever. 

 The man was pushing his fries around the plate, stacking them up and
knocking them over. Big, strong hands. His body didn't match his demeanor.
"Are you married?" 

 "Divorced." 

 "Ah." 

 Ray picked up the other half of his sandwich. "Here's my big lesson: no
matter how much you give up, it's never going to be enough if the marriage
wasn't meant to be." 

 The man looked up, wide-eyed. "But what if it was meant to be? How much
do you give up then?" 

 "As much as she wants." Ray took another bite, trying and failing not to
think of Stella. 

 The man stared at him, looking suddenly wild before he turned back to the
window. His fingers and thumb beat an alternating tattoo over the scar
across his right palm. The nails were bitten down to the quick. "You don't
sound Canadian," he said eventually. 

 Ray swallowed. "I'm from Chicago." 

 "Chicago!" He smiled, wide and sunny, and the expression made him
suddenly beautiful. "I once lived in Chicago." 

 "Oh yeah? I grew up there. You like it?" 

 "I hated it." His smile faltered. "The place and the--people." 

 "Oh." 

 "I'm not fond of cities." He looked back down at the tabletop. 

 "Heading back to the country then? The old family farm?" Ray tried to
figure out what they had up in Canada. 

 The man shook his head, smiling for real again. "I don't know where we're
headed. It's up to her. But you're a long way from home as well--Chicago
to Vancouver?" 

 "Been driving around for three weeks. I don't really have any plans so I
thought I'd go walkabout." Violating the restraining order the last time
had gotten him fired and he didn't have a backup plan, so driving to
Canada had seemed as good an idea as any. "I always kind of liked Canada.
When I was a kid I pictured it being like the Wild West, only with snow."
Ray grinned and the man laughed. 

 "No, we have actual cities here, and TV, and the women don't wear hoop
skirts. If you want a real frontier you have to go further north to the
Yukon or the Northwest Territories. But you can't drive." 

 "No?" 

 "Permafrost. Long roads are very difficult to maintain. Generally one
flies in." The man rested his chin on his interlaced fingers. "This would
be a good time of year for it, though. It's warm and there's a great deal
of sun." 

 "You get that midnight sun dealy up there, right?" 

 "Fifty-seven days of sun in Inuvik." The man closed his eyes and smiled
again. He didn't look so tired now. 

 "Wow." 

 "The sun will go down for the last time in two days and then stay up
until the nineteenth of July." 

 "So I have time, eh?" 

 He nodded, opening his eyes. "You have time." 

 Ray turned that over in his head. 

 "Of course, if you go up there unprepared, you'll die." The man wasn't
smiling any more. 

 The bell on the cafe door jingled as someone came in. "Ben?" A gorgeous
woman with short, bleach-blond hair and dark eyes was looking at their
table. She frowned at Ray. 

 The man jumped up. He pulled his wallet out and stuck seven dollars under
the edge of his plate, then turned and left the table, never once looking
at Ray. The woman took his arm and they left together. 

 Ray edged over toward the window and watched them walk away. The man's
hands were clasped behind his back and he walked with his head down,
letting her lead. 

 Halcyon Inn. And Inuvik...that sounded cool, kinda wild, way up with the
glaciers and all. He'd look it up in the atlas. And he wouldn't call
Stella, he would not. He would not. He would not. 

 The man and woman turned the corner and disappeared from sight. 

 end. 

End