thelockbox | Geoffrey Tennant

Geoffrey Tennant

GEOFFREY TENNANT。
"A theatre is an empty space and as per the four-hundred-year-old stage direction, we begin with a "tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning". It is a storm of color and sound-- A dense, unnatural storm. And we see it in glimpses, and flashes, as Miranda would have seen it. We see fragments of the horror, and our minds provide the details. The lights churn and swell like the sea--Ah nuts."	NEW READ JOURNAL CREDIT

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[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.]

[ Geoffrey looked back up at Ray as he edged into the doorway, still looking as uncertain as he had a moment before. It didn't make him feel much better, but at least while Ray was in sight, Geoff knew he wasn't about to run off and phone for the men in white coats.

His jaw twitched, and then he pressed most of his face back into his knees, his hands moving to the back of his own neck as he peered over the top. ]

I don't think I can face a wolf that I don't know. He might eat me--or I might hurt his feelings.

[ That was a serious concern, though. Getting eaten by strange wolves. ]

Close the door. [ He said it a little more firmly, uncoiling very slightly as though to physically open up before he opened up emotionally. ]

I don't remember being called Fraser. I don't remember you, or your beautiful car, or Dief, or--or the Yukon. I'm trying to. I really am trying, Ray. I know that if you say it's true then the memories must be in there somewhere but - hah - you know, I just can't seem to get them out of there.

[ He scrubbed at the sides of his head, then pulled himself up onto the edge of the bed, staring urgently at Ray as though he could convey how unnerved it made him feel to not have any of those memories. ]

I remember the theatre, Ray. Years of...theatre, and I remember being committed. I remember being committed for-- [ He wrung his hands together. ] For strangling swans in the park, and...

[ God, it sounded even more insane out loud. He took a deep breath, eyes closing, and then he exhaled slowly. When he'd finished his exhale, he opened his eyes, looking at Ray again desperately. ]

Why do I remember every word of Hamlet, and nothing at all about...half wolves and the Consulate? Why couldn't I remember your name, Ray, when I could still remember my own? Geoffrey Fraser. See--? It doesn't make any sense, and I know it's probably the alcohol talking but I've been drinking for years and nothing like this has ever happened before.

[ He bit the back of his hand, looking if anything more worried by the second. ]

I don't know what to do.

[Ray lingers at the door for as long as he can, uncertain of where he needs to be for his partner at this time. Too close and he may risk invasion or spooking, but too far and he might come off as afraid or uncaring. He was no good at this stuff. He'd been brought up with his dad always avoiding talk of 'feelings' and so Ray had felt painfully unskilled in that department. Insanity was a different sort of thing, granted, but Fraser's obvious distress and fear was difficult to process on any level that he was used to. God, Ray had barely ever seen such a flood of emotion, even in the times he'd delivered tragic news.

Perhaps losing yourself really was more distressing than losing a loved one.

He shuts the door as requested and moves a few steps further inside, lingering as he watches his friend, brows creased and heart knotting inside his chest out of sheer helplessness. What was he supposed to do? What could he do that would offer any sort of reassurance or solve the problem at hand? It doesn't make him feel any better when he hears mention of the theatre and Hamlet and... Geoffrey? None of that seems like the history Benton's discussed in the past.

Ray hesitates, lingering on his feet just a few seconds longer before he makes his move, stepping over towards the bed to perch on the edge beside his friend, reaching a hand down to rest at the shoulder below him.]

You're not uh--

Your name is Benton. Benton Fraser?

[Maybe he shouldn't be saying all this. Maybe he should leave Fraser to work it out himself. But he hates seeing his friend so clueless.]

I know you kinda dig the theatre well enough, dunno about years of it though. And uh, your time in the crazy bin was just undercover work. No swans.

[He squeezes just a little harder against the shoulder under his grip.]

It's fine, buddy. You'll be okay. We got this.

Benton?

[ No wonder he'd invented a new name. What kind of name was Benton? Geoffrey--now that was a name. And already he could see how this was all beginning to make sense, because apparently he was a cop, and wasn't it always police officers who you heard were going off the rails all the time? Police officers and people in the arts.

Oh, he could see how a bright, sharp mind like his own might be able to make that sort of connection, and bang, he'd suddenly be Geoffrey Tennant, a man who went mad on stage during a production of Hamlet and jumped into Ophelia's grave; who stole a car, and throttled swans in the park, and was taken to the funny farm still with feather down in his teeth and river mud under his fingernails.

He dug the theatre, and he'd been undercover in an asylum once, and his high stress job...at the consulate - the Canadian consulate in Chicago? - had finally made him crack. Desperate to make sense of his ridiculous life, he'd made up an entirely different ridiculous life, with a new name and a woman whom he loved but whom he hadn't even kissed in seven years, and a ghost--let's not forget the ghost. A ghost helping him put together productions of Hamlet and Macbeth, stories about crazy people and spirits. If that wasn't cracked up then nothing was. ]

Benton. [ He said again, and looked up at Ray above him; Ray who was squeezing his shoulder reassuringly and looking hopeful and terrified at the same time. ] Benton sounds right. Benton Fraser. It sounds alright, doesn't it?

[ He sat forward, then pulled himself up onto the bed beside Ray, licking his lips. ]

I don't know what's set all this off. I know if I could just remember, just piece together my evening, then maybe... I mean you can't just forget everything like that. I've heard about people having...emotional breakdowns when everything becomes too much... Maybe that's why I imagined that I - that Geoffrey - had one. It's difficult when you love someone and they don't, or can't, love you back. Sometimes you just have to do something to take back that control, no matter how insane. [ He was still wringing his hands together in his lap, overwhelmed with a kind of energy he couldn't really figure out how to direct.

Oh what the hell. Ray already thought he'd lost his mind. Maybe the sense touch would bring his memory back? Maybe he'd created this story of longing for Ellen for some other reason, and if he just kissed this guy like he clearly wanted to, then the memory block would lift and he'd be himself again.

Geoffrey unwound his hands and reached his right across Ray, moving his hand to his jaw, fingers against the side of his neck, and pulled himself across the space between them, closing a kiss on his mouth suddenly so as to not give himself - or the other man - any time to think about it. He could always take it back. ]

[There we go.

That's it.

Finally they were getting somewhere. Benton appeared to recognise the name enough to accept it, and that was the first step on the road to recovery. Ray has no clue where his partner would have got Geoffrey from, maybe an old Canadian friend or some such that he'd managed to dig from the recess of his mind and assume it's his own. It didn't matter. What did matter is that Fraser wasn't a lost cause, and that they'd manage, over time, to get him remembering what he needed to. He knows enough about memory loss to know it can take weeks, maybe even months, to fully recover, and that's if this isn't just alcohol induced (which he still doubted it was).

He shifts over enough to let his friend up, there's already enough space on the bed but it's the gesture of acceptance, as is twisting just enough to show he's interested in Fraser's musings. Talk of emotional breakdowns and this Geoffrey name and love. Ray's lost by that point. He's not exactly sure who Benton thinks he's talking about. Victoria, maybe? Or some mystery woman he loves. Or maybe this is just part of his weird made up world he's got for himself as this Geoffrey guy.

Whatever it is, Ray assumes it's better to let his friend stumble through these ideas and possible memories than interrupt him with corrections. Let him remember for himself rather than force it on him.

Maybe that was a poor choice though, because he almost doesn't question Fraser reaching for him, doesn't even move as that hand curls around his jaw, unsure whether it's confusion or curiosity that keeps him still.

He's not given any time to think anyway, Fraser moving far too quickly for his bemused mind to fully grasp what's going on until there's lips on his, soft and warm and-- what the fuck? Ray sits there for what feels like minutes but likely barely over a second or two, and then his mind kicks back into gear, pressing a hand flat against his partner's chest and shoving hard as he leans back, reeling, breaking the kiss as quickly as humanly possible.]

I don't know what you think you remember, Fraser, but that is not... that is not cool. That's not normal. That is... that is abnormal.

[He's not even pissed off, just perplexed as fuck as to what drove his friend to that conclusion. Not that it's the worst conclusion to come to-- wait, what?]

[ For all of a couple of seconds, it feels wonderful, and maybe he just likes kissing, but Ray's mouth is as soft and wonderful as he thought it might be - maybe a little edged in bristles, but he'd kissed more bristly women - and even though all he gets in response is that sort of paralyzed shock, it's nice--

For a second or two.

Then there's a meter between the two of them, and Ray's hand had shoved a bruise against his chest. And now here he is, still thinking about Ray's mouth, and oh, that has to be it, because here he is thinking about this guy's mouth and obviously Ray doesn't want to have anything to do with it. His memories of Ellen and Geoffrey tell the same kind of story: unrequited love.

This is definitely it, because there's no way Ray's interested. He's not angry, but that's somehow even worse, like Ray's just being logical about it. It's not cool. It's abnormal.

Geoffrey raised his hand to his mouth, pressing his palm to his lips and closing his eyes. If he just concentrated hard enough he could feel Ray's mouth against his own again. He needed to focus on the feeling, to form it into a shape and somehow keep it that way, because if it really was the answer to unlocking his memories then it had to feel real.

He squeezed his eyes shut until it hurt, focusing on the name, everything he'd been told, the feeling of desolating rejection that he knew so very well, loneliness...

Nothing.

He dropped his hand and hung his head backward, staring up at the blank ceiling helplessly. ]

You know, Ray, that's probably what it is. And it's not your fault. I clearly have a problem.

[ He sighed, at last, and rolled himself forward, pulling himself up off the bed. He didn't look back at Ray; his eyes were on the door. ]

I'm...I think I probably have feelings for you, and that perhaps to deal with those feelings I've very nearly, quite possibly lost my mind. I'm hoping that perhaps simply knowing will help me to get my memories back, but I'm not holding out a great deal of it.

[ He blinked back toward Ray, his expression sad. ]

Do you think that's possible? I mean...put aside your feelings for a moment. Do you think it's possible that I might...that I could love you?

Edited 2014-09-14 22:57 (UTC)

[While Fraser's holding that kiss to his lips like it's some sort of prize, Ray's hand shoots to his mouth for totally different reasons. It's the back of his hand that presses to his lips first, withdrawing seconds later to get glanced at like he's just been punched and is expecting to see blood. Satisfied he's not bleeding or diseased, he opts for scrubbing at his mouth with the meat of his palm like he's a kid in the playground afraid of cooties. Because he's mature. So fuck you.

It's not so much that he hates the idea of it, or even that he minds the possibility of Fraser cooties. It's just that something as intimate as a kiss must be break some kind of ancient friend code set out by the buddy Gods. It can't be accepted practice for two best friends to be kissing one another, especially not in a bedroom, and especially not when one of them isn't even in his right mind.

Ray supposes he should be flattered, but humouring his friend won't help his mental state any. Not... that he would humour him with something like kissing. Probably not. There really must be some code against it.]

You... think feelin's for me have made you lose it?

[As absurd as that sounds, it's the only lead they've got right now, and he's willing to play with the concept so long as Fraser didn't leave the room. The last thing Ray needed was running around Chicago trying to find his deluded partner.]

Listen, Fraser, I'm uh, I'm really not qualified to judge, okay? I mean. We're buddies. Good buddies. We do a lotta stuff together and spend a lotta time together. I like bein' around you, pal and I guess. I guess I love you- as a friend. [Come to think of it, Ray really doesn't think he'd be the same person without Benton around. Not any more. Losing Fraser would be like the ultimate break up, worse than his and Stella's. At least he only saw Stella after work, usually, but with the Mountie it was in and out of work and everything in between. Without Benton in his life he'd have virtually nothing left to occupy his time, and that was a depressing thought to linger on.]

Maybe you just uh. Maybe it works different in Canada or somethin', I dunno.

[ He hadn't meant to make it sound quite so accusatory as it had come out. It wasn't Ray's fault that he had a thing for him, right? And as he pointed out they were buddies, they spent a lot of time together, and Ray loved him only as a friend. That made sense, he thought.

Mostly. He still got weird best-friends-forever vibes from him, like there was more to it than just buddies: unsurprising, considering they were apparently partners. But the mouthrubbing and the thrust to his chest really were quite clear: there was nothing going on here. At least not from Ray's side. And if that were true then he hadn't done anything to make him feel like something was going on, had done nothing to trigger this whole memory loss thing inadvertently. It had to be something else.

Maybe getting drunk had set him off. He was a very unpleasant drunk--or was that just in his head? He got melancholy. He might have allowed those feelings to surface and envelope him, even if they were quite unreasonable (which they obviously were), and if he could remember who he was then he would probably be appalled with himself for bringing it up, for even trying it. Kissing his straight best friend. Oh yes, Geoffrey Tennant or Benton Fraser--he was a damned genius.

Geoffrey wrapped his arms around himself, wrapped them very high and hard around his biceps and squeezed. ]

Just...just forget I said anything. I wouldn't want anything to ruin our friendship.

[ And if he sounded a little resentful it wasn't his fault. He seemed indecisive about where he was going and what he was doing. He hovered back, looking between Ray and the door, and then it seemed he made his decision, and he was off across the room a moment later, moving purposefully.

But he froze in the doorway; froze and then span, and his left cheek and eye twitched. His arms had swung down and gripped the frame of the door, but now they came back up protectively. ]

I don't know how to fix this. I don't know what to say that won't make this--this whole thing--more awkward than it already is.

[ He needed to be stopped. He was going off the rails, and who could blame him? His entire life was a lie. He turned ninety degrees, facing the doorframe, and scowled at it. ]

Okay fine, I can't leave. I don't have any shoes.

[ And he dropped his head against the doorframe, and lay it there, and said: ] Ow.

[Fraser was naturally distressed. That was understandable. Forgetting everything about yourself and thinking you're someone else entirely must be a huge mind fuck, especially when neither of them could work out the how or why of it all. It's not even like Ray knows all this to be something from Fraser's past, but he supposes it could be. Maybe a long lost cousin or something by the name of Geoff that was in the theatre. Might be it.

Still doesn't really explain the kiss, but Ray's willing to chalk that into the 'drunk and crazy' category and leave it at that. It's not like it's the first time they've locked lips.]

Hey, forget about it. S'no problem. Nothing's changed, it's all good.

[Even if that is going to be the sort of thing he's going to lay in bed and think about at odd times of the night, because brains were annoying like that.

He watched Fraser move towards the door, is almost considering getting up to stop him, and then Benton stops himself. It really is better if he doesn't allow Fraser out on his own again, as he's pretty sure it would only end up in him having to go back to the drunk tank and pick him up again, and next time the early shift might already be in.]

How we go for a drive, huh? Get you out and see some sights. Like uh, like mental stimulation or something. I mean, that might work, right?

[Fraser was usually the one to come up with the ideas, Ray can't be expected to be the genius here.]

[ Okay, so this entire situation was one he'd gotten himself into. He'd gone and got drunk and lost his memory, probably in that order but possibly in the opposite order, you could never tell. Then he'd fallen in love with his partner, or been helpless to it bubbling to the surface despite the memory block and he'd gone ahead and kissed him.

It had been a good kiss, but also awful; emotionally compromising and far too short. If only Ray had kissed him back. Maybe it was a Romeo and Juliet thing--only true love's kiss could end his suffering. Ugh, but that was pathetic. Real life wasn't Romeo and Juliet.

Then again real life wasn't being found in the park with a mouthful of duck feathers, losing ones memory and thinking you were a washed up actor called Geoff either, so on balance...

He sighed, maybe a little too dramatically, then crept closer again, taking little shuffling steps. He sat back down beside Ray on the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, looking more than anything like he didn't want to let anyone into his bubble, though the opposite was still true. ]

It's still dark. [ He protested. And then: ] Maybe--maybe your first plan doesn't sound like such a dreadful idea after all. We could just lie here and wait for morning.

[ We, he said, as though he had no intention of lying down and giving it a shot unless Ray was here with him. It was Ray's bed, but more than that - not knowing who he really was - the idea of being alone was actually something rather frightening. He didn't want to go back to the clinic, which meant he depended on Ray entirely to ensure he didn't get found in the park chasing ducks again. If he was a good friend, as Geoffrey suspected he might be, he wouldn't allow that to happen, no matter what it cost. ]

Can we try it, at least?

[What if Ray really had been blind about all of this? What if Fraser had been attracted to him all along and he just hadn't noticed it? How could he notice it? It's not like one should suspect their friend of fancying them every time the shared a smile or saved one another's life. Being close to one another was normal, every day life, that's what having a partner was all about. Sure, they'd developed a deep bond, but nothing that had previously suggested making out to be on the cards. Then again, Fraser always was one to keep his cards close to his chest.

Maybe this amnesiac Fraser was just confusing their close friendship as something else entirely. It must be difficult to have such feelings for a really good buddy and not remember how or why. That must be it. Fraser's just confused. This kiss thing must just be all that confusion being manifested into one intense emotion of attraction.

Ray doesn't move as Fraser creeps in close again, making sure not to react as his friend sat beside him beyond sparing a glance. He can't react; shuffle away and it might make it look like he's trying to get away, shuffle closer and Fraser might get the wrong idea. God, this stuff is confusing and awkward.]

You just wanna lie here and wait? Uh. Okay. I mean if you wanna sleep, that's cool too. I can always call in for ya while you get some rest.

[But just to show some solidarity, Ray flops back onto the bed and tucks an arm behind his head, staring up at Fraser expectantly because hey, he's waiting for morning here.]

[ If Ray had shuffled closer, he'd definitely have had to reconsider things all over again. Mixed signals really was a thing. Him jumping away, at this point, would have been almost acceptable. But instead Ray patiently agreed to stay with him, and that was middle of the road.

It was middle of the road until he flopped back on the bed with an arm under his head and stared up at him. He shifted uncomfortably on the spot, just for a moment, and then he decided to follow, pulling himself up on his chest and wrapping his arms around the pillow on the other side of the bed, his head on top of it, propped up in such a way as he could look right back at Ray.

It was very close, sort of intimate. Probably a mistake. He licked his lips uncertainly. He always worked his mouth, it was like he simply couldn't help it, like his tongue had a mind of its own, which was why he liked to keep it occupied. Talking worked. Reciting lines. Sucking on pens and razorblades. Kissing. Don't think about kissing! ]

Could you...

[ He flattened his cheek into the pillow. ]

Could you tell me something about me? Like...I don't know. How we met? The kind of man I am? What I like to do when we're not working?

[ If he could just get Ray talking, it'd take some of the pressure off him, which considering he didn't know who he was, no matter what he said, it was only going to make him seem crazier. All of his stories were from a life he apparently hadn't lived. One he'd made up in his head. The more detail he went into with them, the more he'd creep Ray out.

At least this way, something might trigger his memory. ]

Who am I to you, Ray?

[If there was too much closeness or intimacy, Ray wasn't seeing it. But then again he seemed perfectly comfortable with personal space invasion when it came to his best buddy. Hugging, sharing a bed, arms around one another? All perfectly acceptable, so long as they avoid kissing on the lips again because that's maybe just a little too gay.

He huffed thoughtfully at the request, staring right back at Fraser throughout it all, while dropping a hand just enough to scratch through the stubble at the underside of his jaw.]

Wow, Fraser. I dunno. There's a lot to tell. Uh, like when we met? Heh. You were more confused than a cat with a box on it's head. I was standin' in for your old partner, so I gotta act like I know you, right? I guess I did know you enough from what I read and got told, so I had this idea of what to expect. So I gotta act like we're best buddies, and you got no clue what's goin' on, heh. Kinda like now, I guess. But we soon get over that. Like we get our own thing goin' on. You and me, proper partners, not just pretendin' to be. So we do a whole buncha stuff together, solve a whole buncha mysteries like we got the Mystery Machine van, 'cept we're lacking a Velma and Daphne, but who needs them, huh?

[Vague or not, Ray seems to enjoy the memories of it all, like it's not the first time he's thought about their first meet and time together. In fact, Fraser's pretty much all he thinks about, but that's not something he'll say out loud because it just sounds kind of creepy when he thinks it.]

We've had some fun, you and I. We done a lotta stuff, and I guess before I met you I never knew what it was like to have a proper partner. Like one you can really trust your life with. You're a freak, Fraser, but you're still my freak.

[ It's all very confusing. Standing in for his old partner? Acting like he knew him? It all sounded very strange, maybe a little ludicrous, but this from the man who couldn't remember a moment of his life, who'd put together an imaginary existence because he'd accidentally fallen in love with his partner: who needs Velma and Daphne indeed.

There's something odd about Ray, he thinks. Something bashful, something reserved. It's like he's maybe afraid of getting hurt, and Geoffrey can understand that. Maybe some part of Ray would find it acceptable to embrace that physicality, but he's very caught up in how he sees himself, and how other people see him. He's defined by those things and nothing else.

He's not the kind of man who could ever change. Learn - yes. Adapt - sure. But genuinely change who and what he thinks he is? Geoffrey wasn't so sure about that.

The sentimentality was definitely there, though; the love. it wasn't an illusion of something he'd made up, he felt it undeniably, like a pressure on his chest. This man cared immensely for him and he was a little bit afraid, frightened that he might lose the one man who was clearly his best fried in the world. Hell, maybe his only friend.

He stared at him in silence for a few moments longer, then rolled over onto his back, taking the pillow with him and hugging it against his chest. ]

I wish I could remember, Ray. For me, maybe, but mostly for you. I may not remember who I am, or who you are, but I know I don't want to be putting you through this.

Eh, forget about it. You'll remember soon enough. Just need some rest. Or maybe a knock on the head. Fall off a movin' vehicle or somethin'.

[He dismisses with an idle wave of his hand, keeping an eye on Fraser as though half expecting something odd to happen if he looks away. Either that or looking away might result in Fraser booking it out the nearest door or window to start this whole drunk tank scenario over again, which Ray could really do without right now. He's exhausted and yet wide awake, unable to gather the energy to move much further from the bed but with mind racing with a million thoughts a second.

This whole scenario was an odd one, one that Ray figures might have to result in him driving Fraser off to hospital tomorrow to at least check for any serious head injuries. He wouldn't book his friend into the crazy house, not ever, but he still had to make sure he wasn't going to drop down dead in the next few days. That would be unfortunate. Not to mention he'd probably get blamed for it. Bummer.]

Hey, I might as well call in for you now. I bet Turnbull will be awake, freak that he is. I bet he only sleeps like two hours a night or something, right?-- Not... that you'd remember who he is, I'm guessin'?

[But Turnbull would know who Fraser was and that's all that mattered.

It'd be a quick phone call, just to check Fraser out of duties and let those crazy Canadians know what was up. Better to get it over with now than end up too tired to move off the bed.

With a huff of effort Ray pushes himself upright once again, lazily reaching out for the bedside phone and grappling for a hold like he's lost control of his limbs. Maybe he did need sleep, but not now. Not until Fraser's sorted and not at risk of running off again. Not until he's phoned in and made sure the Ice Queen won't be screaming after Benton in the morning...]

[ Geoffrey shook his head, rolling over so that he was facing Ray. Turnbull? That was a ridiculous name. And what was he? A secretary or something? What was he doing up in the middle of the night? Okay freak, got it. It probably didn't matter though, did it? Maybe he'd remember with time. Maybe it could be okay.

He pulled a little closer, watching as Ray reached out for the phone and musing over his own position. Ray looked like he was buzzing, honestly. If not for how he'd been rebuffed, he might offer to cool him off, burn up some of that energy, but they'd already crossed that bridge. Maybe they could do play charades or something. Horizontal charades.

Something to take both their minds off their aborted mess of a night.

He licked his lips, wriggling up onto Ray's side of the bed and propping his elbow on Ray's pillow as he sat up, instead reclining where he could look the other man in the face as he called the Consulate. Weird. He seriously worked there? Did he live there too? Why didn't they cohabitate or something?

He could just about hear the phone ringing. And then what he thought might be a man's voice was answering. It was hard to hear.

Benton Fraser said: ]

You've reached the Canadian Consulate. You are speaking to Constable Benton Fraser. How can I help you this morning?

[ Because it was going to happen sooner or later, right?

Geoffrey was still blinking curiously up at Ray, trying to get a read on the other man's face. Partner--they were partners. He thought he probably liked that. It'd just take a little getting used to, that was all. ]

[Ringing was a great idea. He was a genius. It meant he could free them both up for the day and he didn't have to worry about setting an alarm to phone in, just in case they do eventually manage some sleep.

It also meant not having to speak to the Ice Queen in the morning on the off chance she was the one to answer, because as much as Ray was okay with that chick, he really didn't want to try explaining away why Fraser wasn't at the consulate and why he couldn't come in. His lying wasn't always great, he'll admit that, and with a discussion like that there's a chance they'll be found out and Fraser's career be in risk. After all, the Consulate can't have their Mounties losing it and running around naked attacking swans.

Ray keeps his eyes on Fraser while the phone rang, watching as his buddy squirms in closer but making no comment. It's only when he hears the the line clip in on the other end that he looks away, eyes lifting towards the ceiling as he braces himself for a ridiculous conversation with Turnbull.]

Yo, it's-- [A beat.] ... Fraser?

[His gaze immediately snaps back to the body beside him, half expecting to catch his lips moving or see him grinning in jest. That must have been him pretending to answer, right? Or... maybe it was Turnbull after all...]

Turnbull, quit screwin' around! I got a message to pass on to the Ice Queen.

[ Geoffrey tilted his head curiously. That was a weird look, what was that about? This Turnbull guy was supposed to be a total cray cray right? He got that. Secretaries had a weirdness to them, that was for sure. So maybe that's all it was. A weird guy made for a weird phone call.

He rolled slightly over, tilting his head a little more, squinting up at Ray. ]

Ray? It's past four in the morning. If you have a message to pass on to Inspector Thatcher, I can certainly take it, but...this is rather out of the ordinary. What could possibly require such expedience?

[ Fraser was confused. Well. That was one word for it. Ray calling up out of nowhere in the middle of the night? It didn't happen unless they had some kind of case, and even then it could usually wait till morning. Ray wasn't a 4am sort of person.

So this phonecall was already strange without Ray thinking he was Turnball. That was even stranger. Maybe he was drunk?

Have you been drinking? Or ah--partaking of other intoxicants?

[That... that sounded like Fraser. Identical to, in fact, even with the slight masking that a phone provides. Ray had spoken to Fraser over the phone enough times by now to know what he sounded like, and this didn't sound like just some poor impression of Turnbull's.

The Fraser laying next to him isn't even moving his lips, so it's not him. And it's probably not some weird ventriloquist act either. Maybe. Probably not.

But if it's not the Fraser beside him and not Turnbull then...]

Nah. I mean, like a beer or two... unless uh...

[Was he high? Did this happen when you got high? How the hell did he get high?

Or maybe one of these Fraser's wasn't actually Fraser, which sounded ridiculous but maybe a simple question would solve that theory.]

Hey, uh, you remember the uh, ship. With the uh sinkin' and the drownin'. What was that breathin' thing you did again?

[ This was all getting very out of hand, Geoffrey thought. Maybe he was just being really oversensitive, but it seemed to him that Ray was being super emotional about something, and it probably had to do with what the other person on the phone was saying. Turnbull, he'd said.

He pulled himself up to sit crossways with Ray, if only because this way he could better study the other man's face. ]

What is it? [ He asked, softly.

But quietly, hushed, in order not to disturb Ray's conversation.

Fraser was saying: ] Well that's easy, Ray, buddy breathing, but I don't see why you feel the need to share it with Inspector Thatcher--and certainly not at such an hour as this. Is that all you wanted?

[ Geoffrey wasn't sure, but he felt like maybe - just maybe - he ought to reach out and take the phone himself, explain it to Turnbull himself. He reached up to place his hand on the back of the phone, as though to ask for it--even if he wasn't sure he actually wanted it. ]

Yeah.

Uh, no. Wait. What? [Somewhere between the lack of sleep, conversing with this crazy Fraser on his bed for a few hours and now speaking to someone who's also apparently Fraser over the phone, Ray's really fucking confused. Exceptionally confused. If he had much of a mind it'd be blown by now.]

Fraser, somethin' funky is goin' on.

[Said to the Fraser on the phone, and yet just as likely directed to the one sitting in his eye line as he directs his attention on him.]

Look, I uh. I'm gonna go get my car keys. Maybe go drive off the docks or somethin'. Could you uh, talk it out for a sec, yeah?

[Still spoken to the both and Ray wordlessly thrusts the phone towards the Fraser in front of him and tries to slip free to find where ever he last left his keys.]

[ Hopefully Ray misplaced his keys since coming in, because Geoffrey accepts the phone, squinting up at Ray and brings it carefully to his ear.

"Ray?" says the stranger on the other end. "Ray? Ray." There's something familiar about the voice, but...he can't place it. So he says: ]

Hello?

[ And there's a pause on the other end, and Benton Fraser says "Good morning. Is Detective Vecchio still there?" ]

He's looking for his keys.

[ Another pause, and Benton say: "I really don't know what this is all about, but if you could perhaps prevent him from causing harm to himself, I would be most appreciative." ]

I think I can do that. Uh--but you know, I think he's losing it, between you and me. Stresses of the job.

[ "It's always been a possibility. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?" ]

It's Fraser [ Geoffrey replied. ] Apparently. Listen, I've got to go, I'm pretty sure he just found them.

[ He put down the phone, and then rose to his feet and head out to find Ray, frowning at him with concern as he entered the other room. ]

Going somewhere? [ The phone started ringing. He ignored it. ] You're planning to leave me here, with no idea who I am, or where?

[Ray's only half listening to the one sided conversation as he shuffles out of the room and into the open plan of the apartment. There's only a few places his keys could be- who was he kidding? They could be anywhere- but he's got a general idea and starts the search.

Kitchen, lounge, coat pockets, they're all valid places to check, but he's barely even paying attention to the search as his mind drifts to other things.

Other things like the fact he's got a amnesiac guy in his apartment who looks just like Fraser but can't remember if he's even called that. And then there's the guy on the phone that he just spoke to who sounded exactly like Fraser, was at the consulate where he should be, and could easily answer Fraser-only questions without hesitation. It made little sense, and Ray's not sure he can wrap his head around it, but he needs to see for himself if this phone Fraser is some sort of imposter or...]

Uh. Not leave you, nah. I was uh. We need to go out. I know you dun wanna go out but we need to. I gotta go to the Canadian place and you should probably come with.

[He doesn't turn around at first, still fumbling through the papers and old take-out boxes on his coffee table until he locates his car keys sat under a week old newspaper. The phone is ignored, because it really can't be that important, not at this hour of the morning.]

It's uh. It'll be revealin', I swear.

[ Geoffrey doesn't know where Ray left his keys, despite being right there when he did it, but that's alright, his mind is elsewhere, thinking about the familiar voice on the phone as he heads into the other room to join him.

Ray isn't looking at him. Like. Determinedly not looking at him. It's weird, so Geoffrey fumbles up close behind him, looking over his shoulder as the phone keeps ringing. It's probably the guy on the phone ringing back. Not that him ringing back makes any sense if they're 'going to the Canadian place', right? Not much of this makes a lot of sense though, so it's probably best just to ride it out. Like a bad production. ]

I'm not sure I can handle revealing more than I already have--unless you'd like to take something off, in which case I can get behind that.

[ Stripping in the park, after all. They could go streaking again. There's still some moonlight left before the sun rises. ]

Or in front of it, actually. Whatever you like best.

[ He touches Ray's elbow. ]

Hey. Do I get to know what has you so shaken up? I think I have a right to know, don't you?

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