Rebirth

By moonstarnine

March 2000

PG for barely even hinted at M/M slash between Ben and RayK.

Contains spoilers for 'Eclipse.'

Disclaimer: dS characters aren't mine, so the voices tell me.  
	    But I never listen.

E-mail me at: moonstarnine@yahoo.com

I followed this trail, I came to this 
city, I met this man, I lived this 
lie, I suffered this loss, I took 
this chance, and I walked into a 
mausoleum.  

A path of painted dance-steps led me to this moment, my fate 
decided by newsprint encircled in red.	I sat in a house of 
death mesmerized by the sparkle of dust floating around my 
quarry's fine-boned features like a scruffy angel's halo and 
gave answers knowing I lied in truth. I spoke of duty and 
honor while I imagined a more selfish and pleasurable course 
of action. Through a graveyard I stumbled, while the sun 
awaited rebirth and I resolved to champion my present.

I am in my late thirties and he is a 
Chicago cop. Street smart.  He looks 
so touchable, but I maintain restraint.  
I am factual like a stoic.  I am Stan 
Rogers, Bill Mitchell, Bobby Orr; 
their best attributes coalesced into 
a solitary facade.

And now, for all my trouble,  I find myself in this untenable 
situation. My hands reach up again to assay a secure grip and 
the sunlight is suddenly extinguished again.  As I begin to 
ponder the unlikelihood of an event of this magnitude 
happening outside of any biblical construct, a feather 
brushes my nose.  

Ray crouches beside the grave where he left me stranded.  
Leaning over, his taut torso effectively blocks my escape.  
I had not realized my gift could be used to tickle, as well.  
His slender arm reaches towards me once more, the torture 
device clasped in his hand grazes my face again.

"Earth to Fraser!"  

I can make out his sly grin as he turns to set the dreamcatcher 
down on his bag by the grave and sticks his hand back in my 
face snapping his fingers to further his point.

"Come on, stop zoning and let's get a move on.	I got IAD to 
annoy and trout to bite.  Mush."

On that final command, Ray grabs my hand and starts pulling 
me up.	He steadies my ascent with a strong arm clasped around 
my waist, while he chastises my inability to escape the trap 
he pulled me into.

"Jeez, Frase, first the agile thing on that dead car, and 
now this?  I mean, I'm just saying, where's the leaping outta 
pits in a single bound got to?	Or, weren't you equipped with 
that particular Mountie super power?"

Once free from my earthen enclosure, I stand toe to toe and 
eye to eye with my jailer/rescuer; his arm releases me and 
his hand drops mine.  I am instantly bereft of his touch.  
I stare into the blue-green depths of his eyes and discern 
no malice reflected in them, but his comments can not go 
unchecked.  No matter how his brutally beautiful smile 
shines upon me.

"Rest assure, Ray, my training was complete and all my 
*Mountie powers* are intact."

"And this training, it included fish abuse?"

He gracefully bends and grabs his kit and my present, as I 
eye out Diefenbaker still admiring his horticulture handiwork.	
We head towards the car and I begin to enlighten him on the 
finer points of the traditional game I have gone to great 
lengths to recreate for the party.  

"No, no, it did not. In the Yukon... What now?"

I stop to look back at Ray showing obvious signs of 
displeasure at my discourse.  Which for him, apparently, 
includes groaning, halting and rapping a dreamcatcher 
continuously against his forehead.  Ah, another use for it.  
Understood.

"Fine.	I would have thought an overview of the game would 
give you a certain advantage in playing it, but as you know 
best..."

I gesture at Dief, who gives one last appreciative bark to 
his floral tribute and looks to see if I approve.  I nod my 
head and bellow, "Yes, yes, nicely done, Diefenbaker. Now, 
let's go."

Turning again, I continue in the direction of the parking lot, 
walking in a manner I hope appears disinterested in the 
nearness of the IAD deadline and in the start of the 
festivities or in anyone listening to me.  

"Frase, Frase, wait up."

I neither hasten or slow my pace or show any indication I 
hear him.  Then, I feel Ray's arm go around my shoulders and 
he taps the dreamcatcher on my face.  

"Come on, finish your lect...your story.  I suddenly got this 
strange urge to be an ace fish-chewer."

Ray squeezes us closer together as we continue to the car, 
perfectly in step. Half-wolves being maddeningly romantic 
creatures, Dief lopes behind us joyfully barking his assent.

The End