Mix and Match Challenge by Giulietta
So this entry doesn't fit the challenge exactly, I don't think -- it's not an AU -- but it does sort of flip Ray 'n' Fraser's roles. Specifically, in CotW, Fraser is good at dealing with the snow and ice and cold, and Ray is not, and falls on his face and generally makes a fool of himself. So, here Fraser's generally making a fool of himself, and Ray is keeping him from getting himself killed. Again, not an AU -- just a look at how tables can turn. Lemme know if you think it doesn't fit the challenge.
Post-CotW, non-explicit F/K. 1369 words. Rated R for language and bloodiness and absolutely nothing else, as usual. *g*
[Disclaimer: Even the stuff that happens after the show don't belong to me.]
Three Sweet Words
"Shit, Ben, you -- "
Fraser blinks at his leg, not quite comprehending what's happened to it. He'd known, of course, that he'd seriously injured himself mere moments after the ax had slipped, because he hadn't been able to feel it at all. Perhaps a dull ache, a tingly feeling that might come from slamming the flat of his blade against his leg -- but he'd certainly felt nothing like he imagines slicing his thigh through to the bone might feel.
There is blood on the snow, and blood on the ax, and blood on Ray's hands, which are trying to move his leg so that Ray can examine it. "Shit. That's -- that's gonna need stitches, Ben."
Fraser agrees silently. He's had to have stitches for shallower wounds than this. "I think I hit the bone."
"Jesus." Ray peers at the wound carefully. "No, I don't think you did. Can you -- can you move?"
"I don't think so." A cloud of his breath obscures the blood for a moment. "I don't think it'd be advisable to walk."
"No, not walk -- move your foot. Try moving your foot."
Fraser obliges, though he's not entirely certain why Ray thinks it's so urgent, and winces. "Ow."
Ray beams at him like he's managed to get up and start chopping again. "Okay, you're not paralyzed -- that's good, right? And you felt it, right? So -- "
"Ow." Some of the feeling is starting to throb into his leg, seconds of pain interspersed with seconds of numbness, and he's starting to shiver. "It's cold, Ray. I'm cold. Why didn't I notice that before?"
"Uh. Because you're a crazy Canuck." Ray stops beaming and starts looking worried again, as he probably should. "Uh. Blood loss -- pressure -- right, pressure, I know that -- " He takes off his boot and removes first his left knee-length sock, then his right.
"You'll get frostbite," Fraser protests blearily. "You need -- "
"I've got 'bout five others on -- so shut up and be a good patient, or I'll leave you here in the snow." Ray's threat entirely lacks any malice; he must know Fraser is incapable of being a good patient, but starts to tie his leg up anyway.
Fraser hisses a breath in through his teeth, and Ray mutters, "Hold up a minute, I'm almost done -- okay, I'm not, but just hang in there, okay?"
He needs to distract himself -- well, in point of fact, he ought to have not distracted himself to begin with, so that his leg might still be intact -- so he keeps his eyes on Ray's hands. They're moving much more quickly than Fraser thinks he's ever seen them move; pulling tight, tying, knotting as rapidly as they can.
Suddenly he realizes something, and giggles. Ray looks up at him, looking almost afraid. "I got the other leg," Fraser explains, and giggles again.
Ray frowns at his legs, then grins at him tentatively. "Yeah, you did. Uh -- you know I don't care about the symmetry, right? 'Cause I coulda done without the heart attack."
"Mm," Fraser grunts, trying to keep himself from giggling so he can conserve his energy.
"Just saying, you know -- you and your insecurities, I never know when you're gonna go nuts. And speaking of nuts," he adds, looking alarmed once again, "you wouldn't be delirious, would you? Like -- shock, or something -- "
"No," Fraser says soberly, and carefully tries to keep his eyelids from drooping.
Ray isn't fooled, and Fraser briefly wonders why he was trying to fool him in the first place. "You are going into shock. I need to keep you warm -- and I've got that stuff from that Inuit medicine woman -- you need to walk back to the cabin."
"I can't," Fraser moans, because he really doesn't think he can. He can barely lift his arms.
"Well, I can't carry you, and it's sure as hell not warm out here. C'mon -- you can lean on me, long as you don't make me fall and wrench my knee." Ray slides a hand under Fraser's armpit and across his back. He feels warm, even through both their parkas, so Fraser wraps his arms around him and holds on tight.
"You're freezing," Ray murmurs distractedly, trying to rise to his feet and failing. "And you're heavy." He's speaking lightly, trying to set Fraser at ease. "Didn't I tell you not to make me twist my knee?" He takes a breath, and tries again, this time lifting them up. Fraser tries to do his bit, getting his right leg under him and attempting to push away from the ground with it.
"Yeah, that's good," Rays mutters, "that's good, you just heave there with one leg, and I'll heave over here with two legs, and we'll get to the cabin. 'Snot that far -- "
Fraser head spins, and he clutches the back of Ray's jacket to keep himself from losing his balance. When everything settles down again, he becomes acutely aware that his injured leg is dragging in the snow and getting wedged under a growing mountain of it. "Ray, my leg -- "
"Yeah," Ray says, and kicks the pile out of the way carefully, making sure he doesn't kick Fraser's leg instead. Fraser sags, watching him, and tries to keep from hyperventilating.
"I think...I hate snow at present, Ray."
There's a pause; Ray could be short of air, or he could be trying to comprehend the statement. "Yeah. I hear that," he replies finally.
"I think It's trying to kill me. It must be."
"You? Nah. You're just in its way. I'm the one it's trying to kill," and just like that, Fraser's right leg goes out on him, unable to cope with the weight of winter gear and snow and his own weight. He flails at the snow in his face madly, absolutely certain for one terrifying minute that it's actively trying to climb down his throat and suffocate him, choke him to death --
"Fraser! Fraser! Quit -- "
"It's alive!" Fraser chokes frantically. "It's alive, it's trying to -- Ray -- "
"Calm the fuck down -- I've got you, I've got you -- "
Fraser stops thrashing abruptly; the snow that was in his mouth has molten, and now that he's stopped moving there's none left in the air, and Ray's arms are on his shoulders, squeezing hard and not letting go.
Fraser takes a shaky breath. "You've got me?"
"Yeah. I got you." Fraser looks up and sees Ray smiling at him wryly. "You'll be fine, if you don't keep asking the snow to kill you. Promise."
"I thought," Fraser says, half-seriously, "that I was supposed to have you."
"Yeah, well, we got eachother. You get an ax in your leg, I got you. I get stuck in a crevasse, you got me. What, you want me to explain partners to you again?"
"That was Chicago."
Ray's eyes flash. "So fucking what?" he snaps.
Fraser can't immediately think of an answer to that; he lets Ray haul him back onto his feet and lead him back into the cabin, thinking that there must certainly be some difference between Chicago and Tuktoyaktuk. The dangers are different; Ray can protect him from Chicago's dangers as well as anyone Fraser knows, of course, and vice versa --
"You thirsty?" Ray asks.
"Yes, please," he says hoarsely, and Ray puts a glass of warm milk -- where did he get it from? Fraser doesn't know -- against his lips.
-- but Tuktoyaktuk is a different world, entirely devoid of mob activity, gangs, and bulletproof vests. Ray is -- was -- clumsy in the snow. He can't -- couldn't -- manage to keep warm in the winters. He is -- was -- liable to drop himself into crevasses. He is -- was -- unfamiliar with first aid techniques.
"'Kay, I'm gonna stitch this up first," Ray says quietly, "and then I'll give you that herb thing, 'cause I don't want you to throw it up if you do."
So fucking what, indeed, Fraser thinks, and bites his lip as Ray pierces the skin.
So fucking what.
--fin
Post-CotW, non-explicit F/K. 1369 words. Rated R for language and bloodiness and absolutely nothing else, as usual. *g*
[Disclaimer: Even the stuff that happens after the show don't belong to me.]
Three Sweet Words
"Shit, Ben, you -- "
Fraser blinks at his leg, not quite comprehending what's happened to it. He'd known, of course, that he'd seriously injured himself mere moments after the ax had slipped, because he hadn't been able to feel it at all. Perhaps a dull ache, a tingly feeling that might come from slamming the flat of his blade against his leg -- but he'd certainly felt nothing like he imagines slicing his thigh through to the bone might feel.
There is blood on the snow, and blood on the ax, and blood on Ray's hands, which are trying to move his leg so that Ray can examine it. "Shit. That's -- that's gonna need stitches, Ben."
Fraser agrees silently. He's had to have stitches for shallower wounds than this. "I think I hit the bone."
"Jesus." Ray peers at the wound carefully. "No, I don't think you did. Can you -- can you move?"
"I don't think so." A cloud of his breath obscures the blood for a moment. "I don't think it'd be advisable to walk."
"No, not walk -- move your foot. Try moving your foot."
Fraser obliges, though he's not entirely certain why Ray thinks it's so urgent, and winces. "Ow."
Ray beams at him like he's managed to get up and start chopping again. "Okay, you're not paralyzed -- that's good, right? And you felt it, right? So -- "
"Ow." Some of the feeling is starting to throb into his leg, seconds of pain interspersed with seconds of numbness, and he's starting to shiver. "It's cold, Ray. I'm cold. Why didn't I notice that before?"
"Uh. Because you're a crazy Canuck." Ray stops beaming and starts looking worried again, as he probably should. "Uh. Blood loss -- pressure -- right, pressure, I know that -- " He takes off his boot and removes first his left knee-length sock, then his right.
"You'll get frostbite," Fraser protests blearily. "You need -- "
"I've got 'bout five others on -- so shut up and be a good patient, or I'll leave you here in the snow." Ray's threat entirely lacks any malice; he must know Fraser is incapable of being a good patient, but starts to tie his leg up anyway.
Fraser hisses a breath in through his teeth, and Ray mutters, "Hold up a minute, I'm almost done -- okay, I'm not, but just hang in there, okay?"
He needs to distract himself -- well, in point of fact, he ought to have not distracted himself to begin with, so that his leg might still be intact -- so he keeps his eyes on Ray's hands. They're moving much more quickly than Fraser thinks he's ever seen them move; pulling tight, tying, knotting as rapidly as they can.
Suddenly he realizes something, and giggles. Ray looks up at him, looking almost afraid. "I got the other leg," Fraser explains, and giggles again.
Ray frowns at his legs, then grins at him tentatively. "Yeah, you did. Uh -- you know I don't care about the symmetry, right? 'Cause I coulda done without the heart attack."
"Mm," Fraser grunts, trying to keep himself from giggling so he can conserve his energy.
"Just saying, you know -- you and your insecurities, I never know when you're gonna go nuts. And speaking of nuts," he adds, looking alarmed once again, "you wouldn't be delirious, would you? Like -- shock, or something -- "
"No," Fraser says soberly, and carefully tries to keep his eyelids from drooping.
Ray isn't fooled, and Fraser briefly wonders why he was trying to fool him in the first place. "You are going into shock. I need to keep you warm -- and I've got that stuff from that Inuit medicine woman -- you need to walk back to the cabin."
"I can't," Fraser moans, because he really doesn't think he can. He can barely lift his arms.
"Well, I can't carry you, and it's sure as hell not warm out here. C'mon -- you can lean on me, long as you don't make me fall and wrench my knee." Ray slides a hand under Fraser's armpit and across his back. He feels warm, even through both their parkas, so Fraser wraps his arms around him and holds on tight.
"You're freezing," Ray murmurs distractedly, trying to rise to his feet and failing. "And you're heavy." He's speaking lightly, trying to set Fraser at ease. "Didn't I tell you not to make me twist my knee?" He takes a breath, and tries again, this time lifting them up. Fraser tries to do his bit, getting his right leg under him and attempting to push away from the ground with it.
"Yeah, that's good," Rays mutters, "that's good, you just heave there with one leg, and I'll heave over here with two legs, and we'll get to the cabin. 'Snot that far -- "
Fraser head spins, and he clutches the back of Ray's jacket to keep himself from losing his balance. When everything settles down again, he becomes acutely aware that his injured leg is dragging in the snow and getting wedged under a growing mountain of it. "Ray, my leg -- "
"Yeah," Ray says, and kicks the pile out of the way carefully, making sure he doesn't kick Fraser's leg instead. Fraser sags, watching him, and tries to keep from hyperventilating.
"I think...I hate snow at present, Ray."
There's a pause; Ray could be short of air, or he could be trying to comprehend the statement. "Yeah. I hear that," he replies finally.
"I think It's trying to kill me. It must be."
"You? Nah. You're just in its way. I'm the one it's trying to kill," and just like that, Fraser's right leg goes out on him, unable to cope with the weight of winter gear and snow and his own weight. He flails at the snow in his face madly, absolutely certain for one terrifying minute that it's actively trying to climb down his throat and suffocate him, choke him to death --
"Fraser! Fraser! Quit -- "
"It's alive!" Fraser chokes frantically. "It's alive, it's trying to -- Ray -- "
"Calm the fuck down -- I've got you, I've got you -- "
Fraser stops thrashing abruptly; the snow that was in his mouth has molten, and now that he's stopped moving there's none left in the air, and Ray's arms are on his shoulders, squeezing hard and not letting go.
Fraser takes a shaky breath. "You've got me?"
"Yeah. I got you." Fraser looks up and sees Ray smiling at him wryly. "You'll be fine, if you don't keep asking the snow to kill you. Promise."
"I thought," Fraser says, half-seriously, "that I was supposed to have you."
"Yeah, well, we got eachother. You get an ax in your leg, I got you. I get stuck in a crevasse, you got me. What, you want me to explain partners to you again?"
"That was Chicago."
Ray's eyes flash. "So fucking what?" he snaps.
Fraser can't immediately think of an answer to that; he lets Ray haul him back onto his feet and lead him back into the cabin, thinking that there must certainly be some difference between Chicago and Tuktoyaktuk. The dangers are different; Ray can protect him from Chicago's dangers as well as anyone Fraser knows, of course, and vice versa --
"You thirsty?" Ray asks.
"Yes, please," he says hoarsely, and Ray puts a glass of warm milk -- where did he get it from? Fraser doesn't know -- against his lips.
-- but Tuktoyaktuk is a different world, entirely devoid of mob activity, gangs, and bulletproof vests. Ray is -- was -- clumsy in the snow. He can't -- couldn't -- manage to keep warm in the winters. He is -- was -- liable to drop himself into crevasses. He is -- was -- unfamiliar with first aid techniques.
"'Kay, I'm gonna stitch this up first," Ray says quietly, "and then I'll give you that herb thing, 'cause I don't want you to throw it up if you do."
So fucking what, indeed, Fraser thinks, and bites his lip as Ray pierces the skin.
So fucking what.
--fin