Literalists	 The Due South Fiction Archive Entry	 Home

 Quicksearch
 Search Engine
 Random Story

 Upload Story

      	  Literalists 
 by joandarck  

 Disclaimer: Characters and show aren't mine, obviously.

 Author's Notes: There's a continuation of this story at
http://joandarck.livejournal.com/1301.html.

 

 

  

 The dogs didn't want to stop, but they would be sheltered from the wind
here and now was as good a time as any.  Benton signaled a break and set
out to clear his conscience.

 "Ray," he said firmly, peering between his companion's hat and scarf to
find the underlying squint, "I have a confession to make.  I'm afraid I
have to some extent practiced on your innocence."

 "Did what on my what now?"

 "Practiced on your innocence.  The truth is"

 "Sorry, I think I got snow in my ears."

 "The truth is, it's highly unlikely that we'll find Sir John Franklin's
lost expedition.  Well.  We won't find it."  He leaned forward,
enunciating as clearly as he could through lips sluggish with cold.
 "Equipped as we are, a mere two-man team, our chances are more or less
nil."

 "Nil?"

 "Nil.  And I shouldn't have allowed you to think otherwise.  That's why
all my colleagues greeted the news of our plans with  well, you may have
noticed an odd undercurrent to their reactions."

 "Uh..."

 "And why Sergeant Frobisher kept making those peculiar facial
expressions."

 "Oh, I thought that was 'cause of his..."

 "No, no."  They waved that subject away by mutual agreement.  "He was
suppressing comment, like the others.  Because you see, Ray, the task we
have set ourselves is impossible."

 "Okay, so, if you think it's pointless, why'd you go along with it?"

 A fair question.  He squared his shoulders.  "The truth is, I've had
little opportunity as an adult to share in the kind of close friendship,
camaraderie, that I enjoyed in Chicago with Ray Vecchio and subsequently
with yourself.  After you leave, I anticipate being quite ...  lonely."
 He wasn't supposed to say it; had never been supposed to; it wasn't
supposed to matter.  He got it out and moved on.

 "I wouldn't have asked you to stay, but given that you suggested it, were
so enthusiastic, Ray, I couldn't resist the temptation.  Do you see?"

 Ray raised a hand to his face and scratched just under the scarf, or
tried to.  Mittens.  "Yep."

 "You understand?"

 "Yeah, I get it."

 "...Ah.  Well.  Are you..."

 "Now see if you get this.  I am not a moron, okay?"

 Ray leaned forward and poked Fraser in the chest.  Fine, it was more like
his glove under a mitten poked a parka over a bunch of sweaters and
thermals on top of that goofy red union suit, but when a Kowalski has a
point to make, you feel it.

 "I know we're not gonna make the Discovery Channel, here.  I mean, I do
know we are not actually gonna find some dead frozen guy sticking out of a
glacier.  I realize this whole thing is more like a metaphor for man's
quixotic yearning for open-ended adventure similar to the quest for the
Holy Grail but embedded in Canada's particular cultural history."

 Yeah homes, he'd memorized that one in case anyone gave him ... dammit,
now Fraser was looking at him like he'd invented hockey.

 "That was beautiful, Ray."

 "Aw, jeez, is it the syllables you get all hot over or the grammar?"

 "Both, I suppose," Fraser said absently.

 Pause.  Uneasy whuffling from the dogs.

 "Okay, when I said, 'get hot,' you know I didn't mean..."

 "Naturally, I assumed what you would call a symbolic..."

 They stared at each other.

 Ice cracked on a frozen inlet, forty miles away. 

   
  

End Literalists by joandarck 

Author and story notes above.  

Please post a comment on this story.