Wings of Desire III: Ode to the Western Wind [F/K, G]
Title: Ode to the Western Wind
Fandom: due South
Pairings: Fraser/RayK
Rating: G
Word Count: 930
Summary: Part three of a five-part series. This ain’t wingfic, kiddos. Just my attempt to fuse the classic Wim Wenders’ film Der Himmel über Berlin with the world of due South.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my lovely betas vienna_waits and debris_k, who gave me the idea in the first place.
Ode to the Western Wind
Ray is still there when the man wakes from his dreams. Sometimes the Mountie is tired and sore in the morning, or he is slow to get up because he spent a sleepless night dreaming of his loneliness. But this morning he wakes up and feels refreshed. He remarks upon this unusual state of affairs to his companion.
“I dreamed of the man again last night, Diefenbaker. The same man. What do you think it means?”
The wolf doesn't answer and Ray understands his silence. Animals have very little patience with what cannot be observed through the senses. They are far too practical for philosophy.
Ray watches the man shave and dress. He listens to his thoughts as the Mountie begins to plan his day. A morning at the Consulate, an afternoon at the station, dinner with his friend the Italian detective. Ray is very glad his Mountie has the Italian in his life. He is not alone, not really, if he has a friend.
The Mountie heats oatmeal in salt and water. Ray watches him eat and wonders about the taste of food. Inevitably he thinks about the scent and texture of skin, the joy of lovemaking. Soon he will know everything and will wonder no more.
It is still dark outside and Ray knows he must leave the man. The others are gathering for the sunrise, and if it is a clear day Ray will not be able to rejoin them at sunset. He will fall and tumble down, down, down, into the beauty of life. But he wants to watch one more sunrise with his fellow angels.
“I’ll see you soon - maybe tonight,” Ray tells the Mountie, even though there is no “soon” for an angel; there is only “always” and “forever.” The man pauses as he shines a button on his tunic. He does not smile (he never smiles, not really) but he says to the wolf, “I think it will be a very fine day, Diefenbaker.”
The sun rises at 6:42 a.m. It sweeps up over the eastern horizon and its music is beautiful. Different than what he hears in the sunset: more joyous, somehow, without the aching shadows of twilight. Cassiel stands beside him and listens to the sunrise. Ray would like to say he is sorry; he is going to fall to earth and Cassiel will now be alone for the rest of mankind’s existence. There will be no one for Cassiel to talk to, no one with whom he can debate the existence of the elusive human soul. Perhaps Cassiel will like it better this way - he has never agreed with Ray’s methods. But they were partners and now that is at an end. Nothing new will spring up in its place.
“What will you do down there?” Cassiel asks. Ray shrugs, something he has learned from his time watching the humans. He needs to practice self-expression.
“On my first day I’ll have a bath. Then I’ll get a shave, and maybe a massage. Head to toe. Then I’ll buy a newspaper and get ink all over my fingers. And I’ll eat a chili dog, and smoke a cigarette. I’ll say, ‘Hello’ to people in a thousand languages. I’ll understand every word they say. That will be my first day.”
“I’m not sure it will be that easy. Others have fallen. I’m not sure they have first days like that.”
“Well,” Ray blinks at the sun. It has cleared the lake and now rises higher in the sky. “Well, I won’t be like the others. I’ll have my Mountie. He’ll take my hand and run his thumb along the top of my knuckles as I tell him about my first day. He’ll teach me how to eat with chopsticks. I’ll be clumsy and we’ll laugh. I’ll laugh - imagine! Ten thousand sunrises and we don’t know what it’s like to laugh. My Mountie will teach me. He’ll show me everything.”
If Cassiel doubts Ray at all he does not mention it. He resolves to watch his friend carefully on this strange falling-down journey, and to help if he can.
“You love them all so much, Ray. What if you’re wrong and life isn’t what you think?”
Ray sobers a little; he always smiled too much for an angel. “Then I’m wrong. But I’ll still know what it is to laugh. And to know...him. If I can have those things, the rest won’t matter. I’ll be content.”
“I hope so,” Cassiel says, but the words sound wrong. Angels do not hope. They know.
He goes with Ray to the top of the Sears Tower. It is a clear day and Cassiel considers the young man who threw himself off a bridge and thought of burning popcorn.
Ray is excited. He hops on one foot along the edge of the building and yells to the west wind as it flaps at his overcoat and ruffles his wings. “I’ll send you a postcard!” he says to Cassiel. “It will say, ‘I live, and I have my love!’”
And then Ray throws himself off the edge of the tallest building in Chicago. He falls and never lands.
Cassiel does not go to the edge to look for him. Angels can see everything, but Ray must do this for himself. Instead he reaches into his pocket and removes his notebook. He opens it to an empty page and writes:
For Ray so loved the world that he gave his eternity in order to be with man.
“Good luck,” he whispers to the western wind.
*****************
Next Chapter:
Part IV: Dark Before Dawn
Previous Installments:
Part I: Wings of Desire
Part II: Angels and the Modern City
Fandom: due South
Pairings: Fraser/RayK
Rating: G
Word Count: 930
Summary: Part three of a five-part series. This ain’t wingfic, kiddos. Just my attempt to fuse the classic Wim Wenders’ film Der Himmel über Berlin with the world of due South.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my lovely betas vienna_waits and debris_k, who gave me the idea in the first place.
Ode to the Western Wind
Ray is still there when the man wakes from his dreams. Sometimes the Mountie is tired and sore in the morning, or he is slow to get up because he spent a sleepless night dreaming of his loneliness. But this morning he wakes up and feels refreshed. He remarks upon this unusual state of affairs to his companion.
“I dreamed of the man again last night, Diefenbaker. The same man. What do you think it means?”
The wolf doesn't answer and Ray understands his silence. Animals have very little patience with what cannot be observed through the senses. They are far too practical for philosophy.
Ray watches the man shave and dress. He listens to his thoughts as the Mountie begins to plan his day. A morning at the Consulate, an afternoon at the station, dinner with his friend the Italian detective. Ray is very glad his Mountie has the Italian in his life. He is not alone, not really, if he has a friend.
The Mountie heats oatmeal in salt and water. Ray watches him eat and wonders about the taste of food. Inevitably he thinks about the scent and texture of skin, the joy of lovemaking. Soon he will know everything and will wonder no more.
It is still dark outside and Ray knows he must leave the man. The others are gathering for the sunrise, and if it is a clear day Ray will not be able to rejoin them at sunset. He will fall and tumble down, down, down, into the beauty of life. But he wants to watch one more sunrise with his fellow angels.
“I’ll see you soon - maybe tonight,” Ray tells the Mountie, even though there is no “soon” for an angel; there is only “always” and “forever.” The man pauses as he shines a button on his tunic. He does not smile (he never smiles, not really) but he says to the wolf, “I think it will be a very fine day, Diefenbaker.”
The sun rises at 6:42 a.m. It sweeps up over the eastern horizon and its music is beautiful. Different than what he hears in the sunset: more joyous, somehow, without the aching shadows of twilight. Cassiel stands beside him and listens to the sunrise. Ray would like to say he is sorry; he is going to fall to earth and Cassiel will now be alone for the rest of mankind’s existence. There will be no one for Cassiel to talk to, no one with whom he can debate the existence of the elusive human soul. Perhaps Cassiel will like it better this way - he has never agreed with Ray’s methods. But they were partners and now that is at an end. Nothing new will spring up in its place.
“What will you do down there?” Cassiel asks. Ray shrugs, something he has learned from his time watching the humans. He needs to practice self-expression.
“On my first day I’ll have a bath. Then I’ll get a shave, and maybe a massage. Head to toe. Then I’ll buy a newspaper and get ink all over my fingers. And I’ll eat a chili dog, and smoke a cigarette. I’ll say, ‘Hello’ to people in a thousand languages. I’ll understand every word they say. That will be my first day.”
“I’m not sure it will be that easy. Others have fallen. I’m not sure they have first days like that.”
“Well,” Ray blinks at the sun. It has cleared the lake and now rises higher in the sky. “Well, I won’t be like the others. I’ll have my Mountie. He’ll take my hand and run his thumb along the top of my knuckles as I tell him about my first day. He’ll teach me how to eat with chopsticks. I’ll be clumsy and we’ll laugh. I’ll laugh - imagine! Ten thousand sunrises and we don’t know what it’s like to laugh. My Mountie will teach me. He’ll show me everything.”
If Cassiel doubts Ray at all he does not mention it. He resolves to watch his friend carefully on this strange falling-down journey, and to help if he can.
“You love them all so much, Ray. What if you’re wrong and life isn’t what you think?”
Ray sobers a little; he always smiled too much for an angel. “Then I’m wrong. But I’ll still know what it is to laugh. And to know...him. If I can have those things, the rest won’t matter. I’ll be content.”
“I hope so,” Cassiel says, but the words sound wrong. Angels do not hope. They know.
He goes with Ray to the top of the Sears Tower. It is a clear day and Cassiel considers the young man who threw himself off a bridge and thought of burning popcorn.
Ray is excited. He hops on one foot along the edge of the building and yells to the west wind as it flaps at his overcoat and ruffles his wings. “I’ll send you a postcard!” he says to Cassiel. “It will say, ‘I live, and I have my love!’”
And then Ray throws himself off the edge of the tallest building in Chicago. He falls and never lands.
Cassiel does not go to the edge to look for him. Angels can see everything, but Ray must do this for himself. Instead he reaches into his pocket and removes his notebook. He opens it to an empty page and writes:
For Ray so loved the world that he gave his eternity in order to be with man.
“Good luck,” he whispers to the western wind.
*****************
Next Chapter:
Part IV: Dark Before Dawn
Previous Installments:
Part I: Wings of Desire
Part II: Angels and the Modern City