Put Your Eye Out	  Put Your Eye Out

 by BJCochran

  

 

 Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the ideas.

 Author's Notes: I'd like to thank AKite and karen/s for reading through
and supporting me when I write.

 Story Notes: My first flash fic challenge. Just love that Hurty!Fraser.

 

 

 Put Your Eye Out February 27, 2004
 By Bridget Cochran 

 (F/K, PG - language, aftermath of violence) 

 Note: This is the answer to a Due South Flashfic Challenge: Fraser
Whomping. My first ever. Hurty!Fraser is a big old kink of mine, so this
challenge spoke to me. Here is the result. Thanks to Anita and Karen/s for
their constant support. 

 >>><<< 

 Blood didn't usually make Ray squeamish, but this time he blew into the
sewer drain. Chinese, the second time? You don't wanna know. 

 Fraser was sitting on the tailgate of the ambulance, EMT's fluttering
around him like they were treating Jesus made flesh. Both of them. Boy and
girl. Jeeeezus. And here was Ray, wiping his grimy mouth off with the back
of his hand, looking for a bottle of water to rinse with. Maybe a whiskey
chaser. 

 The glass had come close to Fraser's eye. Dumb ass flies through the
friggin' window. Big shards of not safety glass flying every where. Not
little splinters, big honkin' chunks of solid pain. Not solid pane. Get
it, Fraser? Nah. Fraser would tell him that glass, Ray, is a highly
viscous liquid. Like Ray cared. He knew that glass could be highly vicious
if you hurled yourself through it. 

 Ray narrowed his eyes on the medics attending his partner. One on his
knees before him, looking up in adoration. The other bending at her waist
like a fawning toady. Ray curled his lip, the growl not far below the
surface. 

 He looked down when Dief gave into his baser instinct and growled. "I'm
with you there, chum." Dief was a mud-sicle from his chin, to his belly to
all four legs and paws. Ray's boots and pant legs were crusted with dried
crap nearly to his knees. This time the Mountie's boots didn't miss the
mess and were just as crudded up as Ray and Dief. Still, he sat regal, too
embarrassed to admit that he needed the help. 

 Fraser didn't want to go to the hospital for further attention. He would
merely tend the cut using a special salve prepared by Inuit....Ray wasn't
going to hang around for that little lecture. "Can't you glue it up?" he
asked, brashly barging into the treatment consultation thingee. 

 The woman shook her head, still poking around Fraser's upturned face,
holding him still, not letting him move to look at Ray. Still, the eyes
swiveled to find him. "This cut is too close to the eye for field work. He
needs to go in where they have the facilities to do a good job." 

 "Really, that's not necessary," Fraser was starting. Ray narrowed his
eyes on him, and he stilled. Ray's eyes narrowed into a frown. 

 "I'll drive him," he said, sticking his hands deep into his jeans,
wishing they'd stop twitching. 

 The kneeling EMT now stood, towering over Ray. "And who are you?" Like
Fraser needed protecting. Well, okay, he did. Choosing to fly through a
window instead of checking to see if it was locked, not smart. Proper
preparation, my ass. 

 Okay, Ray thought, bring it on, medic man. Standing at full height, he
was only six inches shorter than this mountain. One hundred pounds
lighter, but only six inches shorter. All Ray had to do is put 'the look'
in place and flip his jacket open to show off the shield. "Detective Ray
Vecchio. And you are?" 

 "Joe Lewis." 

 Right. Heavy weight maybe, but champion? "You a fighter, Joe?" Ray was
working the sneer. 

 "No, Detective. Not a fighter, I'm a lover." 

 Then Joe gave Ray his version of 'the look'. The gay eye contact thing.
One of Ray's brows shot up onto his forehead. "Good to know, Joe, good to
know." 

 Ray moved closer to the chick medic. "I can take him to the hospital
myself?" It wasn't really a question. 

 She didn't want to give up so easy. "Yeah, I guess. But you better take
him right there." Reluctantly, she stopped fussing over Fraser's face and
the big hunk of gauze she had stuck there. 

 Both medics helped Fraser to his feet. Joe Lewis handed Ray the tunic.
The big, dark splotches all over the serge shouted total loss to Ray.
Although Fraser may have some Native Canadian miracle cure for blood on
wool. That wouldn't surprise him. 

 After a stop for coffee and juice, and a few candy bars, Ray pulled up to
the emergency entrance to the hospital. Supplies were important when you
didn't know how long you'd be stuck waiting. 

 Fraser was in pain. Tension around him mouth, laugh lines a little
deeper, and not from laughing. Ray kept his hand on his elbow for moral
support as he pushed his way into the Emergency Room. 

 "Yes, Mr. Vecchio, they let us know you were coming. You can take Mr.
Fraser back right now." 

 Huh. Okay. They followed a tiny little nurse through the locked door into
the ER and were shown to a small exam room big enough for not much. Ray
helped his friend onto the table. "Shirt's a total loss, you know." 

 Fraser looked down on the spattered henley and shrugged. "I can still
polish my boots with it." 

 Shrugging, too, Ray fished out the bottle of papya juice and twisted off
the cap before handing it to Fraser. "Drink it," he ordered. "Blood loss
gets juice." Ray stared at Fraser hard until he complied. Then Ray started
on his own coffee, three sugars, 2 mocha creamers. Christ, his hands were
still shaking. 

 When he turned back, he was pinned by Fraser's eyes like a butterfly in
one of those shadow boxes - at the Museum of Natural History. 

 "Ray?" 

 One word. Said very softly. But still Ray winced. "Yeah, Frase?" Could he
dodge this bullet? 

 But Fraser stayed silent, compelling Ray with his look. Half his face was
covered by gauze. It was no longer white, small flecks of blood were
seeping through. The line of the damage snuck out of the cover, too, too
close to Fraser's eye. A fraction, a hair, a nano-something and Fraser
would be in an operating room and Ray would be pissing himself waiting to
see if they could save any of his eye. 

 "Uh." Good start. "You, you scared me today." 

 "I know. I'm sorry." 

 Wasn't good enough. Ray moved in close, right to Fraser's knees, right to
Fraser's face. "Yeah, but sorry don't mean much right now. Didn't your mum
ever tell you that you could put an eye out playing like that?" 

 Fraser rubbing his brow in agitation calmed Ray down. "She may have. I
was quite young when she passed away." 

 Ray paused, not quite sure what to say about Fraser's mum. "Well, you
scared me, damn it. Bad." Ray went back to the refuge of his coffee. 

 After a few minutes of silence, Fraser said, "What can I say, if 'sorry'
isn't allowed?" 

 Raising his head from his full on brood, Ray shrugged, but still couldn't
meet Fraser's eyes. "Promise me you'll look before you leap, that you'll
be an angel and fear to tread, that you'll check stuff out like, oh,
window locks." Finally, he looked up from the buttons on Fraser's ruined
shirt. Because I love you, damn it, and I hate to see you hurt. It tears
me up like hell. Words that he couldn't make his mouth repeat. 

 More silence, even hospital noise went away for a brief, shining moment.
Finally, Fraser blinked. 

 "Understood," he said. 

 Ray knew that he did. 

 End 

End Put Your Eye Out by BJCochran: bjcochran@epix.net

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