Mix n' Match Challenge, Love Is All Of Heaven Away by Ekaterinn
This is my longer response to the Mix n' Match challenge. The story takes place two years after this snippet, in which RayK pisses off the CPD and winds up doing some liaising instead of Fraser. There's another role swap in this one, inducing snark and angst in our poor Ray. *grins*
So I, with much thanks to my lovely beta mondschein1, now present 1767 words (what word limit?!?) of RayK/Fraser:
The first thing I do when I can see again is shut my eyes. 'Cause really? The best way to lose your lunch is to stare down at some poor sod's brains smashed against the snow. Except that when I open my eyes again, I see Fraser, and he's got the most anguished expression ever on his face. "Uh, Frase?" He doesn't say anything. "You okay there, buddy?" I try again, and maybe I'm damaged, but I'm not dense, so when he still doesn't respond, I take a good look around at the scene.
This time I almost do lose my lunch. Only not - because I am the dead guy in the snow and I don't think dead guys have lunches to lose. I can't feel anything, but I'm still here, which means -
Christ.
I'm a fucking ghost.
*
Darkness.
I'm falling.
No!
Have to get to Fraser, have to get to him, have to get to -
*
"Fraser!" I shout and I can see him again. But he doesn't turn around -- doesn't hear me, even though I'm yelling like a bear is munching on my foot. I try to touch him, but my hand goes right though the red serge he's wearing. Spooky. The red uniform's kept for formal things, so I wonder where we are.
I hope it's not my funeral -- I don't think I could handle that. But no, we're in some police station. It looks really familiar -- and then I feel all sorts of stupid when I realize we're standing in the 2-7. Hey, two years and a death later, what did you expect? Still, my gaze wanders over to Lieu's office for a second. Sorry I never made it back, I tell Welsh apologetically and wrench my oh-so-small attention span back to Fraser. He doesn't look good, all tired and pale. Probably jetlagged, if he flew from Invuik to Chicago. I want to reach out and, I don't know, hug him or pat him on the shoulder or at least say something. But. He can't hear me. He can't feel me. I gotta remember that.
The guy's Fraser's talking to is a stranger. Beaky nose, balding, has a whine in his voice that I don't like. He tells Fraser, "Look, I've got your list of names in my basket right here. The moment I get a chance I'm going to go to the computer, pick up the phone and call you with the information so you can get your Boy Scout points. Now, is there anything else?" And I realize two things: Fraser is investigating my murder and this guy's a fucking prick.
Fraser, despite all his Canadian politemaking, isn't stupid. He gets prickish right back and says, "Yes. Ray Kowalski was my partner and my friend. Before he became American liaison to the RCMP, he was fine officer of the 27th division here in Chicago. I would appreciate it if you'll check the names while there's still a chance of catching the man who killed him." The cop winces at that. I pump my arm. Go, Fraser, go!
I kind of wander behind Fraser after that. He looks, well, very alone. He hasn't got Dief with him and I hope like hell that's just because the wolf's in quarantine. Fraser isn't stupid enough to leave him in Invuik, is he? Especially when he's looking into my death. My death. Seems weird to say it, not that anyone can hear me anyway. It hits me then that I don't even know who killed me. I mean, I'd been looking into some pretty big stuff lately, stuff that looked to be connected with the Great Lakes Mafia. Me and Frase were behind those arrests two years ago. Broke the whole thing wide open. I even busted a dirty cop and for that they sent me to live with the Mounties.
Wasn't too bad, because I got me a Fraser outta the deal.
But now I'm dead.
I should be more upset about this. It's like something or someone has put a - a block on me, and I can't push through. I can't reach Fraser. I can't even reach myself.
*
Darkness, again.
Why me?
Why this?
There's light at the other end. It'll be very easy to fall. Fall towards the light.
I can't fall.
I can see a more...solid...darkness upwards. I discover I can reach up. Grab hold of the dark and climb.
I climb, and I climb, and I climb until -
*
Until I'm climbing out of the soil onto scarped over sidewalk. I can feel how the bugs and the dirt and the worms went right though me. Ew. I wriggle a bit when I stand up, and feeling goes away. Fraser's sitting on some steps, one large hand in Diefenbaker's ruff, staring off into space. Into the space where I'm currently malingering -- no, malfesancing? Whatever. He can't see me. No surprises here.
Dief raises his head and whines, looking right at me. Hey, maybe he can see me! "Dief! Woof if you can see me!" I shout. I even mime throwing a doughnut at him. No luck. He just settles his snout back down next to his paws.
"Sorry," Fraser says, and for a half a second I think he's apologizing to me for Dief's behavior. It can't be very courteous to ignore a ghost, even if there's a serious lack of doughnuts in the afterlife. But no, he's talking to Dief. "I got distracted for a moment. But yes, Ray's killer is well behind bars now. Ryan Hallet will not see freedom again." I almost fall over. Hallet was the name of the dirty detective I put away. Ryan must have been what - a brother, a son, a cousin? Either was in the business himself, or out for revenge.
I sigh. Looks like Fraser did a bang-up job of avenging me himself. I'm obviously not still here because of my superior detecting skills.
Maybe it's my pretty looks. Let it go, Kowalski, let it go.
The wolf makes a questioning noise and I start listening to the conversation again. "No, we're not going back to Inuvik." Fraser tells us. "I've been offered a position as liason, attached to the Canadian Consulate in Chicago. I do realize that's there's a certain irony in me accepting the position - " Dief huffs and Fraser breaks off. He rubs Dief's fur gently. "I miss Ray too." And even more softly. "That's why I can't go back."
*
I'm shaking and I'm falling and -- damnit, not this again!
This time I can smell the darkness all around me, like a three-day-old pizza sitting out in the Chicago heat.
Or like a corpse.
There's another, fainter smell though. It smells like - like wolf and leather and Fraser's pungent aftershave.
I go towards that smell.
*
The room smells like sex. It's not overpowering, but it's definitely here. I look down. Fraser's laid out like a painting on the bed before me. His dark hair contrasts with the white pillow. His eyes are closed.
He's not asleep. His hand moves underneath the thin blanket he has covering him. Small noises come from his mouth, sounding shallow and shy. I can't stop watching. His hand moves faster and faster, almost desperate under the covers. I feel - not a response, but almost an ache. In my soul, I guess.
Fraser bites his lip. His hand stills and his body shudders for what seem forever. Time stretches and I'm rooted to the floor, watching Fraser come. Finally, his body quiets down. He sighs and drifts off to sleep.
Was he thinking of me? I wonder dizzily. The thing between us - it was adrenaline and duets and high northern air. Me and Ben Fraser and a whole lotta warmth. No words, ever. Guys don't talk about that sort of thing with other guys.
Hell, most guys don't do that sort of thing with other guys. But for us, it was different.
It was - maybe it was love.
I cover my non-existent face with my non-existent hands. I feel like punching something. Wham, bam, bang! But my fists only go through walls now. Instead, I lay down on the bed, taking care not to sink through the mattress. I curl up next to Fraser, legs tucked up near his knees and one arm floating on his chest. My lips are next to his chin. There's stubble. He needs to shave. I can't really feel anything much, but I can listen to him breathe, in and out.
I do that for the rest of the night.
*
This time the darkness is familiar, almost fucking comforting. I can taste its heaviness in my mouth. I move through it slowly. The air seems to be getting lighter, so I keep going. It becomes easier to move. I'm at the edge of the darkness now. My mouth tastes sweet.
I break free.
*
I show up in the back seat of Buick Rivera. Fraser's talking to that jerk from the 2-7. His voice seems louder than before for some reason. They're working a case. I growl softly, because that should be my Mountie and my case. Fraser interrupts himself. "Do you hear anything just now?"
The guy shakes his head. "Nah. What, you hearing things now? Look, I'm going to the gas station. I'll be right back." He climbs out of the car, but I'm not paying attention, because Fraser heard me! I frown. At least I'm pretty sure he did.
Only one way to find out.
I put on my best poker face and go, "Hey, Frase."
Fraser spins around so fast that I almost laugh. He hears me, bang! "Hello, Ray. How are you?" he says, looking for all the world like a fish out of a water. I think he sees me too. I feel like dancing. I feel like kissing him. Maybe I will. If Fraser can see and hear me now, he might be able to touch me too.
Right now, I just need to give him the facts. "I'm a ghost, Fraser. Or did ya mean other than that?" I say to him, my face breaking into a grin.
He still looks a bit unsure about the whole thing. Still gorgeous, though. "No, I think that's what I was asking."
I lean forward and attempt to look less like a figment of his imagination. "So, fill me in on the case."
I'll tell him the rest later.
So I, with much thanks to my lovely beta mondschein1, now present 1767 words (what word limit?!?) of RayK/Fraser:
The first thing I do when I can see again is shut my eyes. 'Cause really? The best way to lose your lunch is to stare down at some poor sod's brains smashed against the snow. Except that when I open my eyes again, I see Fraser, and he's got the most anguished expression ever on his face. "Uh, Frase?" He doesn't say anything. "You okay there, buddy?" I try again, and maybe I'm damaged, but I'm not dense, so when he still doesn't respond, I take a good look around at the scene.
This time I almost do lose my lunch. Only not - because I am the dead guy in the snow and I don't think dead guys have lunches to lose. I can't feel anything, but I'm still here, which means -
Christ.
I'm a fucking ghost.
*
Darkness.
I'm falling.
No!
Have to get to Fraser, have to get to him, have to get to -
*
"Fraser!" I shout and I can see him again. But he doesn't turn around -- doesn't hear me, even though I'm yelling like a bear is munching on my foot. I try to touch him, but my hand goes right though the red serge he's wearing. Spooky. The red uniform's kept for formal things, so I wonder where we are.
I hope it's not my funeral -- I don't think I could handle that. But no, we're in some police station. It looks really familiar -- and then I feel all sorts of stupid when I realize we're standing in the 2-7. Hey, two years and a death later, what did you expect? Still, my gaze wanders over to Lieu's office for a second. Sorry I never made it back, I tell Welsh apologetically and wrench my oh-so-small attention span back to Fraser. He doesn't look good, all tired and pale. Probably jetlagged, if he flew from Invuik to Chicago. I want to reach out and, I don't know, hug him or pat him on the shoulder or at least say something. But. He can't hear me. He can't feel me. I gotta remember that.
The guy's Fraser's talking to is a stranger. Beaky nose, balding, has a whine in his voice that I don't like. He tells Fraser, "Look, I've got your list of names in my basket right here. The moment I get a chance I'm going to go to the computer, pick up the phone and call you with the information so you can get your Boy Scout points. Now, is there anything else?" And I realize two things: Fraser is investigating my murder and this guy's a fucking prick.
Fraser, despite all his Canadian politemaking, isn't stupid. He gets prickish right back and says, "Yes. Ray Kowalski was my partner and my friend. Before he became American liaison to the RCMP, he was fine officer of the 27th division here in Chicago. I would appreciate it if you'll check the names while there's still a chance of catching the man who killed him." The cop winces at that. I pump my arm. Go, Fraser, go!
I kind of wander behind Fraser after that. He looks, well, very alone. He hasn't got Dief with him and I hope like hell that's just because the wolf's in quarantine. Fraser isn't stupid enough to leave him in Invuik, is he? Especially when he's looking into my death. My death. Seems weird to say it, not that anyone can hear me anyway. It hits me then that I don't even know who killed me. I mean, I'd been looking into some pretty big stuff lately, stuff that looked to be connected with the Great Lakes Mafia. Me and Frase were behind those arrests two years ago. Broke the whole thing wide open. I even busted a dirty cop and for that they sent me to live with the Mounties.
Wasn't too bad, because I got me a Fraser outta the deal.
But now I'm dead.
I should be more upset about this. It's like something or someone has put a - a block on me, and I can't push through. I can't reach Fraser. I can't even reach myself.
*
Darkness, again.
Why me?
Why this?
There's light at the other end. It'll be very easy to fall. Fall towards the light.
I can't fall.
I can see a more...solid...darkness upwards. I discover I can reach up. Grab hold of the dark and climb.
I climb, and I climb, and I climb until -
*
Until I'm climbing out of the soil onto scarped over sidewalk. I can feel how the bugs and the dirt and the worms went right though me. Ew. I wriggle a bit when I stand up, and feeling goes away. Fraser's sitting on some steps, one large hand in Diefenbaker's ruff, staring off into space. Into the space where I'm currently malingering -- no, malfesancing? Whatever. He can't see me. No surprises here.
Dief raises his head and whines, looking right at me. Hey, maybe he can see me! "Dief! Woof if you can see me!" I shout. I even mime throwing a doughnut at him. No luck. He just settles his snout back down next to his paws.
"Sorry," Fraser says, and for a half a second I think he's apologizing to me for Dief's behavior. It can't be very courteous to ignore a ghost, even if there's a serious lack of doughnuts in the afterlife. But no, he's talking to Dief. "I got distracted for a moment. But yes, Ray's killer is well behind bars now. Ryan Hallet will not see freedom again." I almost fall over. Hallet was the name of the dirty detective I put away. Ryan must have been what - a brother, a son, a cousin? Either was in the business himself, or out for revenge.
I sigh. Looks like Fraser did a bang-up job of avenging me himself. I'm obviously not still here because of my superior detecting skills.
Maybe it's my pretty looks. Let it go, Kowalski, let it go.
The wolf makes a questioning noise and I start listening to the conversation again. "No, we're not going back to Inuvik." Fraser tells us. "I've been offered a position as liason, attached to the Canadian Consulate in Chicago. I do realize that's there's a certain irony in me accepting the position - " Dief huffs and Fraser breaks off. He rubs Dief's fur gently. "I miss Ray too." And even more softly. "That's why I can't go back."
*
I'm shaking and I'm falling and -- damnit, not this again!
This time I can smell the darkness all around me, like a three-day-old pizza sitting out in the Chicago heat.
Or like a corpse.
There's another, fainter smell though. It smells like - like wolf and leather and Fraser's pungent aftershave.
I go towards that smell.
*
The room smells like sex. It's not overpowering, but it's definitely here. I look down. Fraser's laid out like a painting on the bed before me. His dark hair contrasts with the white pillow. His eyes are closed.
He's not asleep. His hand moves underneath the thin blanket he has covering him. Small noises come from his mouth, sounding shallow and shy. I can't stop watching. His hand moves faster and faster, almost desperate under the covers. I feel - not a response, but almost an ache. In my soul, I guess.
Fraser bites his lip. His hand stills and his body shudders for what seem forever. Time stretches and I'm rooted to the floor, watching Fraser come. Finally, his body quiets down. He sighs and drifts off to sleep.
Was he thinking of me? I wonder dizzily. The thing between us - it was adrenaline and duets and high northern air. Me and Ben Fraser and a whole lotta warmth. No words, ever. Guys don't talk about that sort of thing with other guys.
Hell, most guys don't do that sort of thing with other guys. But for us, it was different.
It was - maybe it was love.
I cover my non-existent face with my non-existent hands. I feel like punching something. Wham, bam, bang! But my fists only go through walls now. Instead, I lay down on the bed, taking care not to sink through the mattress. I curl up next to Fraser, legs tucked up near his knees and one arm floating on his chest. My lips are next to his chin. There's stubble. He needs to shave. I can't really feel anything much, but I can listen to him breathe, in and out.
I do that for the rest of the night.
*
This time the darkness is familiar, almost fucking comforting. I can taste its heaviness in my mouth. I move through it slowly. The air seems to be getting lighter, so I keep going. It becomes easier to move. I'm at the edge of the darkness now. My mouth tastes sweet.
I break free.
*
I show up in the back seat of Buick Rivera. Fraser's talking to that jerk from the 2-7. His voice seems louder than before for some reason. They're working a case. I growl softly, because that should be my Mountie and my case. Fraser interrupts himself. "Do you hear anything just now?"
The guy shakes his head. "Nah. What, you hearing things now? Look, I'm going to the gas station. I'll be right back." He climbs out of the car, but I'm not paying attention, because Fraser heard me! I frown. At least I'm pretty sure he did.
Only one way to find out.
I put on my best poker face and go, "Hey, Frase."
Fraser spins around so fast that I almost laugh. He hears me, bang! "Hello, Ray. How are you?" he says, looking for all the world like a fish out of a water. I think he sees me too. I feel like dancing. I feel like kissing him. Maybe I will. If Fraser can see and hear me now, he might be able to touch me too.
Right now, I just need to give him the facts. "I'm a ghost, Fraser. Or did ya mean other than that?" I say to him, my face breaking into a grin.
He still looks a bit unsure about the whole thing. Still gorgeous, though. "No, I think that's what I was asking."
I lean forward and attempt to look less like a figment of his imagination. "So, fill me in on the case."
I'll tell him the rest later.