[ Fraser knew it meant the world to Ray then. It was that little smile, the fact that he didn't mention a single word more on the topic. Talking about feelings was never easy; Fraser knew that. It applied to both of them. No, stories were all well and good - Fraser found stories easy so long as they weren't directly about him - but when it came to feelings, actual feelings, it was like a hand came down on his metaphorical shoulder and a ghost was shaking its head at him out of the corner of his eye.
In general, though, he simply didn't hold still long enough to have them--or have people have them about him. Fraser moved. He kept up his pursuits, he chased his men, he walked until he could let exhaustion in and slept the sleep of the dead and then walked some more. In fact, he'd never felt like he'd sat still or stopped his mind for thirty-four years.
And then he'd come to Chicago, and all that had changed. His work had begun to mean something, but he'd also had paperwork and office chores and actual standing still, and it was mindnumbing and depreciating in a way he found he couldn't bear. Why then, did he stay? Why not take the transfer back? Why subject himself to such humiliation and waste in the prime years of his life?
Why? Because for the first time in life he'd had a partner - a real partner - a person on whom he could depend, and they were doing good - real good - sometimes to hundreds or thousands of lives at a time. And even with the chores and the humiliation that feeling of self-worth had blossomed, and it was all because of Ray. The first Ray. Canada had become a holiday, a place to go for fresh air, and Ray had been his partner, and of course Fraser was distraught when he'd lost him out of the blue because Ray had been the first person he'd clicked with. His first partner.
It said something that in all the time he'd been a Mountie, there had been no man or woman whom he'd have considered a trusted friend and equal, someone he could rely on to find him in a blizzard or rescue him from drifting to sea on an ice flow. Well...there was Diefenbaker, but he'd been a pup for most of that time; he'd spent more of his life in America now than he had in the Territories. Ray had been that man, true, but he hadn't known what partnership was until he'd met Ray Kowalski. They fought like a married couple, but they were partners--tied to each other at the waist, my fate is your fate, partners.
Fraser smiled that secret smile back and cracked open one of the cans of coke, nodding it toward Ray. See? he gestured. I'll try and be sober. ]
I'll be fine. Fairly recently I discovered that I'm actually remarkably adept at standing upright.
no subject
In general, though, he simply didn't hold still long enough to have them--or have people have them about him. Fraser moved. He kept up his pursuits, he chased his men, he walked until he could let exhaustion in and slept the sleep of the dead and then walked some more. In fact, he'd never felt like he'd sat still or stopped his mind for thirty-four years.
And then he'd come to Chicago, and all that had changed. His work had begun to mean something, but he'd also had paperwork and office chores and actual standing still, and it was mindnumbing and depreciating in a way he found he couldn't bear. Why then, did he stay? Why not take the transfer back? Why subject himself to such humiliation and waste in the prime years of his life?
Why? Because for the first time in life he'd had a partner - a real partner - a person on whom he could depend, and they were doing good - real good - sometimes to hundreds or thousands of lives at a time. And even with the chores and the humiliation that feeling of self-worth had blossomed, and it was all because of Ray. The first Ray. Canada had become a holiday, a place to go for fresh air, and Ray had been his partner, and of course Fraser was distraught when he'd lost him out of the blue because Ray had been the first person he'd clicked with. His first partner.
It said something that in all the time he'd been a Mountie, there had been no man or woman whom he'd have considered a trusted friend and equal, someone he could rely on to find him in a blizzard or rescue him from drifting to sea on an ice flow. Well...there was Diefenbaker, but he'd been a pup for most of that time; he'd spent more of his life in America now than he had in the Territories. Ray had been that man, true, but he hadn't known what partnership was until he'd met Ray Kowalski. They fought like a married couple, but they were partners--tied to each other at the waist, my fate is your fate, partners.
Fraser smiled that secret smile back and cracked open one of the cans of coke, nodding it toward Ray. See? he gestured. I'll try and be sober. ]
I'll be fine. Fairly recently I discovered that I'm actually remarkably adept at standing upright.
[ Canadian humor. ]