Broken	Broken

 by Sel

  

 Author's website: http://home.iprimus.com.au/beeblebrox/sinistral.html

 Disclaimer: Not mine; they belong to Alliance Atlantis and the Pauls.

 Author's Notes: 

 Story Notes: Character death

 

 

 BROKEN 

 Some days, I look at Fraser and wonder how the hell he does it. Where he
finds the strength to keep going, how he manages to force himself out of
bed every day. I see him some mornings, looking at the chair with such
hate, like he wants to kick it to pieces, and I want to cry. And then he
takes a breath and gets into the damn thing, and sometimes I do cry. He
won't, though. He never does. 

 We're doing better than we used to, in this new partnership of ours. It
took some time to get our heads round all of this, Fraser especially. He's
not used to having limits. It was the worst thing that could ever happen
to him--being caged in, pinned down. His whole life he's been used to
roaming the wide open spaces, and now his world is limited to wherever the
minivan can go. 

 He hated that more than anything at first. I never told him right out,
but he knows I sold the Riv to buy it, and it cuts him deep. Him more than
me--hell, I'm used to losing them by now. Can't tell him that, though. His
sense of humour isn't what it used to be. 

 I'm not doing this for pity, even though I know he thinks I am. I came
back from Florida, sans Stella and looking for a shoulder to cry on, maybe
a dose of whatever Inuit moose-on-a-ledge story about lost love he thought
would make me feel better. I found him flat on his back in the ICU,
doctors saying he's done for, and Kowalski killed in a bust gone wrong.
Took my mind off my own worries damn quick. He wasn't done for, natch, or
not entirely anyway. So I converted the ground floor of my house and moved
him in before he had time to argue about it. I couldn't stand him being
anywhere else, and I think he knows it. 

 It's not pity I'm feeling. Guilt, sure, I've got my fair share of that.
If I look at it one way, it's my fault he's in this mess now. But I don't
think like that, because Fraser's got his own share of guilt to deal with,
which makes us even. Nope--I just love the guy. He's family. No more to
say on that score. 

 We never talk about what happened. I read the report, what there was of
it. Drug bust gone wrong, shootout, officer killed, et cetera. But
something happened with him and Kowalski that I can't figure out. I know
Kowalski had a thing for him--yeah, Kowalski and half of Chicago,
right--but it wasn't that. There was something specific about that bust
that doesn't add up. I saw the crime scene before forensics got there. I
saw Kowalski. He wasn't just shot, he was beaten. Blood all over, and not
from fresh wounds. I saw marks on him that looked like he'd been whipped,
and God only knows what else. But Fraser does his clam act every time I
mention it, and the perps sure aren't talking, so that's that. I had to
let it go. Now, I just make sure he keeps on getting up every day,
thanking God on my knees every night that he's still alive. 

 Frannie and Mom have been amazing. I was having nightmares before Fraser
came out of the hospital, but they've put more smiles on his face than I
ever expected to see again. How much of it he's faking I don't know, but
he's making an effort for them, and that means he hasn't given up yet. 

 That's what I'm most scared of now. I'm terrified that one day I'll go
into his room and find him gone, in every way that matters. I always
thought Fraser had too much gumption, too much sheer arrogance to give up,
but these days I'm not too sure. He's different now. He's broken. 

 END 

End Broken by Sel: sinistral_@hotmail.com

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