[He stands there at the other side of the door for what feels like far too long, allowing the divide between them to be physical as well as whatever this mental block was. Fraser didn't remember him, but Fraser didn't remember anything. He doesn't mind it, not so long as his friend still trusts him, because that was what their partnership had always been about; trust. Ray will never totally be out of Fraser's mind if there's some level of reliance there, and they'd re-established that quickly after he'd picked his friend up from the drunk tank. Maybe it's a little selfish of him, but he needs Fraser, memory or not, and right now, in return, Ray's the only person the Mountie's got.
He hears the shift against the door but stays where he is, waiting for some sort of confirmation. He doesn't want to invade. It's his own house, his own bedroom, but right now it's Fraser's space and Ray can respect that. Ray may not know much about mental breakdowns or insanity, but he knows a thing or two about anxiety, even depression, and he sure as hell knows about needing your own space during it.
But he gets the confirmation he needs, verbally from Fraser's own mouth. Even after that he's cautious about opening the door, quiet about pushing it open and stepping in line with the door frame and lurking there, hands finding the pockets of his jeans.]
I don't think you're crazy, Fraser. Unhinged, maybe, but not crazy.
[Which is an awkward attempt at humour because what the hell is he meant to say about his partner suddenly forgetting every second of their time together? Or virtually every other part of his life?]
So you uh, if you wanna talk about what you think you remember, I swear I won't laugh. Too much. Or we could go to the Consulate or somethin' see if that gets your brain meat sparkin'. Dief might help. I mean, there's always the bed if not, y'know, sleep it off.
[And that's really, really not meant to sound suggestive. He's just trying to be helpful and he still thinks sleep will help more than drinking coffee or crying in a corner will.]
no subject
He hears the shift against the door but stays where he is, waiting for some sort of confirmation. He doesn't want to invade. It's his own house, his own bedroom, but right now it's Fraser's space and Ray can respect that. Ray may not know much about mental breakdowns or insanity, but he knows a thing or two about anxiety, even depression, and he sure as hell knows about needing your own space during it.
But he gets the confirmation he needs, verbally from Fraser's own mouth. Even after that he's cautious about opening the door, quiet about pushing it open and stepping in line with the door frame and lurking there, hands finding the pockets of his jeans.]
I don't think you're crazy, Fraser. Unhinged, maybe, but not crazy.
[Which is an awkward attempt at humour because what the hell is he meant to say about his partner suddenly forgetting every second of their time together? Or virtually every other part of his life?]
So you uh, if you wanna talk about what you think you remember, I swear I won't laugh. Too much. Or we could go to the Consulate or somethin' see if that gets your brain meat sparkin'. Dief might help. I mean, there's always the bed if not, y'know, sleep it off.
[And that's really, really not meant to sound suggestive. He's just trying to be helpful and he still thinks sleep will help more than drinking coffee or crying in a corner will.]