FIC: Healer, PG, 13th in Soul Surrender (a.k.a. that BSG thing)
Title: Healer
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: PG
Fandoms: due South/Battlestar Galactica crossover
Notes: More of that BSG thing, 950 words this time. Set after the events described in History. Also, I was convinced there could be no happy for Fraser in this ’verse, but my brain went and surprised me (though I’m not sure this part will convince you of that). Go figure, huh?
Warning: Possibly too much sentimentality, but what could I do? She was an oracle, and they march to the beat of their own drum.
Summary: Fraser isn't entirely free from visions.
~*~*~
“You first went to Chicago on the trail of your father’s killers.” Fraser stopped in the corridor and looked for the woman who’d spoken. From behind and to the left, he heard, “But you found so much more than simple filial duty, didn’t you?”
The frowzy woman leaned in a doorway, and Fraser wanted more than anything to ignore her. However, her face held the same slack exhaustion his own had after a vision, and he found himself asking, “You’re an oracle, aren’t you?”
Without replying, she turned and went back into her office? Quarters? Fraser followed her against his better judgment.
She sat down at a table as he walked in and gestured at the chair opposite her. When he sat, she took his face into her hands, and he -
- was in the ice fields southwest of Tuktoyaktuk near sunset. It could just as easily have been spring, but it was October, of that he was certain. He heard a familiar voice calling out orders to a dog team, and he turned quickly.
“Ray!”
Neither Ray nor the team slowed down, and Ben watched with bitter disappointment as they sped past him. No matter. If this was a dream, then he could keep up easily enough, so he ran after them, thinking he could get home in time for -
“Tea?”
Fraser blinked. He was back on board the Achilles, sitting in an oracle’s home. “What did you do?”
“Tea?” She held up a small iron kettle, and Fraser nodded his acceptance. Once the tea was poured, she said, “The wheel turns, Ben. Leoben speaks the truth when he says you have your own role to play. Drink up. It will help you.”
He held himself still as he resisted the urge to slam her against a wall and demand answers. This rage was becoming all too comforting lately, and he constantly struggled against the luxury of giving into it. A whisper from the darkest part of his mind spoke of how satisfying it would be to smash the woman’s skull against a bulkhead and feel the bone crack and splinter, watch as the blood oozed out and stained her white hair red.
The imagery was horrifying enough to bring him back from the ecstasy of contemplation, but not enough to calm him completely. He breathed deeply a few times, and when he regained sufficient control over his voice, he asked, “Help me in what way?”
She gestured to his cup, and after he took a sip, she said, “Doctors think they know everything there is to know about chamalla and how it opens the mind. They don’t understand that it opens the soul as well. Drink, Ben. It won’t make you whole again, but it will slow down the bleeding.”
Despite himself, Fraser took a second sip and then a third, relaxing as his anger and despair dissolved. He finished the tea in a few minutes and asked, “What happened earlier?”
“You found your soul in Chicago,” she said, pronouncing the name with an odd inflection.
“That’s one way to look at it,” he said, irritated by the melodramatic phrasing.
She clutched his face again, and he -
- was helpless in the face of his fury when he saw Ray pale and bleeding on the ground, Leoben standing over him as the dogs barked in terror and aggression.
“What have you done?” Ben stumbled over to Ray.
Leoben frowned. “You shouldn’t be here, Benton. This isn’t for you to -
- see, now?” she asked as she withdrew her hands.
“No. I don’t. I need to go back there.” He snatched at her hands, but she moved them too quickly for him to capture.
“The wheel turns, Ben. Just as you have your role, so does Ray.”
Bitterness welled up. “What role is that? An abandoned lover? A man dead on the tundra?”
“Leoben believes that he’s the one to fill the spaces of your shredded soul,” she said.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
In response, she clasped his face gently, crooning as he -
- knelt next to Ray and glared at Leoben.
“You promised no harm would come to him.”
Leoben sighed and squatted down, reaching for Ben’s hand but stopping shy of touching him. “Of all the things I’ve done, injuring you is what I regret most.”
“Why are you here?”
“I thought to take Ray’s place,” he said softly.
“You were going to trick me?” Ben didn’t know why he was surprised.
“No. I was going to trick your friends.” Truman, hackles raised, bared his teeth and growled at Leoben. “It won’t work, though. Your dogs won’t allow it.”
A soft moan pulled Ben’s attention away from Leoben. “Ray? Are you all right?”
Ray opened his eyes. “Ben? You’re dead.” He glanced at Leoben. “How come I’m standing there when I’m on the ground here?”
“I’m not -
- dead!” Fraser blinked as he came back to the Achilles. “Send me back. Let me speak to him!”
“The wheel turns, Ben,” she said as she stood up. “You have a role to play, and you can’t if your soul is in two places.”
“Double talk,” he bit out.
“Ray is alive. Leoben will see to it the promise is kept.” She moved to a curtained doorway and paused. “You can’t go back there. Not again.”
“Why not?”
“Your life is here, now.”
“Then why let me go there at all?”
She turned and gave him a sad smile. “How do you feel?”
Fraser was about to brush off the question when he realized that he felt - “Better.”
“There’s your answer.”
She moved behind the curtain, and Fraser sat down abruptly, tears falling for the first time since he and Leoben sealed their bargain.
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: PG
Fandoms: due South/Battlestar Galactica crossover
Notes: More of that BSG thing, 950 words this time. Set after the events described in History. Also, I was convinced there could be no happy for Fraser in this ’verse, but my brain went and surprised me (though I’m not sure this part will convince you of that). Go figure, huh?
Warning: Possibly too much sentimentality, but what could I do? She was an oracle, and they march to the beat of their own drum.
Summary: Fraser isn't entirely free from visions.
~*~*~
“You first went to Chicago on the trail of your father’s killers.” Fraser stopped in the corridor and looked for the woman who’d spoken. From behind and to the left, he heard, “But you found so much more than simple filial duty, didn’t you?”
The frowzy woman leaned in a doorway, and Fraser wanted more than anything to ignore her. However, her face held the same slack exhaustion his own had after a vision, and he found himself asking, “You’re an oracle, aren’t you?”
Without replying, she turned and went back into her office? Quarters? Fraser followed her against his better judgment.
She sat down at a table as he walked in and gestured at the chair opposite her. When he sat, she took his face into her hands, and he -
- was in the ice fields southwest of Tuktoyaktuk near sunset. It could just as easily have been spring, but it was October, of that he was certain. He heard a familiar voice calling out orders to a dog team, and he turned quickly.
“Ray!”
Neither Ray nor the team slowed down, and Ben watched with bitter disappointment as they sped past him. No matter. If this was a dream, then he could keep up easily enough, so he ran after them, thinking he could get home in time for -
“Tea?”
Fraser blinked. He was back on board the Achilles, sitting in an oracle’s home. “What did you do?”
“Tea?” She held up a small iron kettle, and Fraser nodded his acceptance. Once the tea was poured, she said, “The wheel turns, Ben. Leoben speaks the truth when he says you have your own role to play. Drink up. It will help you.”
He held himself still as he resisted the urge to slam her against a wall and demand answers. This rage was becoming all too comforting lately, and he constantly struggled against the luxury of giving into it. A whisper from the darkest part of his mind spoke of how satisfying it would be to smash the woman’s skull against a bulkhead and feel the bone crack and splinter, watch as the blood oozed out and stained her white hair red.
The imagery was horrifying enough to bring him back from the ecstasy of contemplation, but not enough to calm him completely. He breathed deeply a few times, and when he regained sufficient control over his voice, he asked, “Help me in what way?”
She gestured to his cup, and after he took a sip, she said, “Doctors think they know everything there is to know about chamalla and how it opens the mind. They don’t understand that it opens the soul as well. Drink, Ben. It won’t make you whole again, but it will slow down the bleeding.”
Despite himself, Fraser took a second sip and then a third, relaxing as his anger and despair dissolved. He finished the tea in a few minutes and asked, “What happened earlier?”
“You found your soul in Chicago,” she said, pronouncing the name with an odd inflection.
“That’s one way to look at it,” he said, irritated by the melodramatic phrasing.
She clutched his face again, and he -
- was helpless in the face of his fury when he saw Ray pale and bleeding on the ground, Leoben standing over him as the dogs barked in terror and aggression.
“What have you done?” Ben stumbled over to Ray.
Leoben frowned. “You shouldn’t be here, Benton. This isn’t for you to -
- see, now?” she asked as she withdrew her hands.
“No. I don’t. I need to go back there.” He snatched at her hands, but she moved them too quickly for him to capture.
“The wheel turns, Ben. Just as you have your role, so does Ray.”
Bitterness welled up. “What role is that? An abandoned lover? A man dead on the tundra?”
“Leoben believes that he’s the one to fill the spaces of your shredded soul,” she said.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
In response, she clasped his face gently, crooning as he -
- knelt next to Ray and glared at Leoben.
“You promised no harm would come to him.”
Leoben sighed and squatted down, reaching for Ben’s hand but stopping shy of touching him. “Of all the things I’ve done, injuring you is what I regret most.”
“Why are you here?”
“I thought to take Ray’s place,” he said softly.
“You were going to trick me?” Ben didn’t know why he was surprised.
“No. I was going to trick your friends.” Truman, hackles raised, bared his teeth and growled at Leoben. “It won’t work, though. Your dogs won’t allow it.”
A soft moan pulled Ben’s attention away from Leoben. “Ray? Are you all right?”
Ray opened his eyes. “Ben? You’re dead.” He glanced at Leoben. “How come I’m standing there when I’m on the ground here?”
“I’m not -
- dead!” Fraser blinked as he came back to the Achilles. “Send me back. Let me speak to him!”
“The wheel turns, Ben,” she said as she stood up. “You have a role to play, and you can’t if your soul is in two places.”
“Double talk,” he bit out.
“Ray is alive. Leoben will see to it the promise is kept.” She moved to a curtained doorway and paused. “You can’t go back there. Not again.”
“Why not?”
“Your life is here, now.”
“Then why let me go there at all?”
She turned and gave him a sad smile. “How do you feel?”
Fraser was about to brush off the question when he realized that he felt - “Better.”
“There’s your answer.”
She moved behind the curtain, and Fraser sat down abruptly, tears falling for the first time since he and Leoben sealed their bargain.