[ Ray was actually going to say it, he realised, in the very moment before his partner began to talk. It weighed on the air, that unspoken conversation, like it had back in that waiting room after the firefight, not knowing if they were still partners; like it had beside the campfire surrounded by Mounties. The conversation could be unspoken, but they'd have still had it, and yet there was something about hearing the words out loud that was somehow necessary this time. Fraser needed to hear how Kowalski felt as surely as Ray needed to say it all himself--to put words to what he was feeling.
So Fraser bore it out, and maybe Ray could have been more eloquent, but then he would have been less honest. It poured out of him like treacle, an unstoppable force; once it started only an abrupt halt would stop it from oozing, and Fraser wasn't ready with anything like that. Slap him or kiss him, those were basically his only options if he wanted to stop Ray now.
Which he absolutely didn't. Ray didn't do feelings well. It took a lot for him to pour out anything (and he occasionally did it to strangers, convicts and people he'd known for only a week, but to be fair that had been building up in him for almost three decades, so it ought to be excused) remotely resembling genuine emotions, let alone give way to them like this. He concealed like a pro, hid misery behind the brightest of smiles, fear behind anger, and anger behind fear. Besides which he was talking about his feelings for Fraser, how much he appreciated him, things that Fraser could only guess at from the tiny smiles and glances his way and warm hugs that he'd earned over the years. It helped that Ray Kowalski was a touchy person--Fraser liked to be touched.
He liked to touch back. He touched back now, finished folding his tools and laid his hand on Ray's knee, and suddenly he was staring at him, caught on the summit of the moment as Ray's wandering thoughts wandered him over the edge - that edge - and Fraser came after him too quick and tumbled down the mountainside to his death.
To his death. Because Ray was saying what he'd been thinking since their talk about going on an adventure again outside. He hadn't meant 'get lost in Canada and never come back', and yet--could he dare to think that maybe Ray had already agreed to doing just that?
He squeezed briefly, and that was his trigger to start breathing again, because he needed to breathe in order to be able to talk. ]
That's what partners are for. [ He said. And really he meant to only say that, but the booze was working against him now, just as it was for Ray, and he had options. He could ask, because Ray had left it open for him to ask, and he shifted on the bed slightly, shifted until his knee bumped Ray's thigh and he was looking up at him a little more squarely. ]
Is that what you want, Ray? To... [ He licked his lips again, anxious, but he couldn't make himself look away. ] --To come back... Would you like to come back to Canada with me?
[ Oh he was rolling down that cliff face alright, and it was Ray who would decide whether what his bruised body found at the bottom were jagged rocks or a cushion of bottomless snow. Snow snow snow let it be snow. Ray didn't have to love him, Fraser had never needed that, but if he would only come...they could leave this city and its death and its memories of Stella far behind. It could be like life was a perpetual adventure. And he'd be home. Home not Canada, but home with the person who made it home. That was all he'd ever wanted. ]
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So Fraser bore it out, and maybe Ray could have been more eloquent, but then he would have been less honest. It poured out of him like treacle, an unstoppable force; once it started only an abrupt halt would stop it from oozing, and Fraser wasn't ready with anything like that. Slap him or kiss him, those were basically his only options if he wanted to stop Ray now.
Which he absolutely didn't. Ray didn't do feelings well. It took a lot for him to pour out anything (and he occasionally did it to strangers, convicts and people he'd known for only a week, but to be fair that had been building up in him for almost three decades, so it ought to be excused) remotely resembling genuine emotions, let alone give way to them like this. He concealed like a pro, hid misery behind the brightest of smiles, fear behind anger, and anger behind fear. Besides which he was talking about his feelings for Fraser, how much he appreciated him, things that Fraser could only guess at from the tiny smiles and glances his way and warm hugs that he'd earned over the years. It helped that Ray Kowalski was a touchy person--Fraser liked to be touched.
He liked to touch back. He touched back now, finished folding his tools and laid his hand on Ray's knee, and suddenly he was staring at him, caught on the summit of the moment as Ray's wandering thoughts wandered him over the edge - that edge - and Fraser came after him too quick and tumbled down the mountainside to his death.
To his death. Because Ray was saying what he'd been thinking since their talk about going on an adventure again outside. He hadn't meant 'get lost in Canada and never come back', and yet--could he dare to think that maybe Ray had already agreed to doing just that?
He squeezed briefly, and that was his trigger to start breathing again, because he needed to breathe in order to be able to talk. ]
That's what partners are for. [ He said. And really he meant to only say that, but the booze was working against him now, just as it was for Ray, and he had options. He could ask, because Ray had left it open for him to ask, and he shifted on the bed slightly, shifted until his knee bumped Ray's thigh and he was looking up at him a little more squarely. ]
Is that what you want, Ray? To... [ He licked his lips again, anxious, but he couldn't make himself look away. ] --To come back... Would you like to come back to Canada with me?
[ Oh he was rolling down that cliff face alright, and it was Ray who would decide whether what his bruised body found at the bottom were jagged rocks or a cushion of bottomless snow. Snow snow snow let it be snow. Ray didn't have to love him, Fraser had never needed that, but if he would only come...they could leave this city and its death and its memories of Stella far behind. It could be like life was a perpetual adventure. And he'd be home. Home not Canada, but home with the person who made it home. That was all he'd ever wanted. ]