FIC: Requital, PG-13, Soul Surrender 14
Title: Requital
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: due South/Battlestar Galactica crossover
Notes: Another piece of that BSG thing, and we’re coming down to the wire. 1,850 words that are set immediately after Healer. Also, this is unbeta’d, so mistakes are my own.
Summary: It was dark when he woke up the first time.
~*~*~
It was dark when he woke up the first time.
There might have been a time before then when his eyes opened up, but he figured it was probably one of those whatsits - a waking dream - because how else could he explain seeing Ben and himself staring down at him? He couldn’t, so even though it had been light out that other time, he didn’t count it as actually waking up.
On the other hand, waking up now wasn’t much of a picnic either, because it was dark and he couldn’t hear the dogs. If nothing else, Truman should be whining and pawing at him, but he wasn’t, and that was a pretty strong clue that the team was dead or dying. No way would they leave him if he was still breathing, so maybe seeing Ben was a hint of things to come.
Ray let that thought roll around in his head for a while and eventually decided this was probably a good thing after all. He’d tried - God and most of Tuk knew he’d tried - but he just couldn’t get the hang of life after Ben died. It hurt so much some days, he couldn’t even haul his ass out of bed, and it wasn’t like there was any kind of medicine for that, no matter what Doc McManus tried to tell him.
He was drifting away again, willing the night to take him, when he heard, “You have to wake up.”
Ray didn’t bother opening his eyes. “Fuck off.”
The jerk shook his shoulder and said, “You’re awake now, Ray, and you have a decision to make.”
“Death,” he said, trying to shake the guy off. “I choose death. Now leave me alone.”
There was a long pause. “Why death?”
Ray opened his eyes and ended up glaring at - himself. Didn’t it just figure? All the people in the world an angel of death could choose to look like, and it chose to look like Ray. It confirmed a long-held suspicion that angels were, in fact, the supreme assholes of the universe.
“Ben’s dead,” he answered, speaking as slowly as he would to a dimwit. “I want to be with Ben, so I choose death. Now fuck off.”
“Benton isn’t dead.”
No fucking way was he an angel. Ray didn’t know who it was or why he looked like him, and he didn’t care, because he’d gone from drifting toward death to spitting fury in nothing flat and pinned the dickwad flat on his back less than five seconds later. He would have been faster, but he had to fight his way out of his sleeping bag first, and besides which, he was pushing fifty these days, which meant he was slower all the way around. Still, slow didn’t mean he couldn’t kick a head or two when he had to.
“I found him, you asshole! Found him and brought him home to bury. So don’t you dare try to fuck with me and tell me he’s alive, because I know he isn’t,” Ray ground out. He pounded the guy’s head into the tundra a couple of times before shoving himself away and standing. A quick look around confirmed the dogs and sled were gone, and if he hadn’t decided to die already, he might have been upset about that.
“You found a body that was built to look like Benton,” he answered calmly. “It was a necessary deception -”
Ray turned quickly and kicked the guy in the head. “Shut up!”
Turned out he might as well have kicked a rock, for all the good it did. The guy ignored the blood coming out of his mouth and stood up slowly. “Benton is alive.”
“If he was alive, he’d be here.”
“He can’t come back.” Christ, he sounded so calm and reasonable. Sounded like that prick of a shrink who’d tried to tell Ray a couple of years ago that maybe he should think about checking himself into the funny farm for a while.
“Yeah, right,” Ray said on a bitter laugh. “And you know this because?”
There was a long pause before he said, “I’m the one who took Benton away.”
~*~*~
The sky was either lightening or going dark the next time Ray woke up, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was hogtied on the ground, though apparently, his evil twin wasn’t quite ready to kill Ray yet, because he was on some kind of thermal blanket with another one covering him. If he could ever get around to dying, it wouldn’t be of exposure, which was kind of irritating.
Ray nudged the blanket down far enough so he could look around, and yep. There he was, sitting next to a fire. Bastard probably stole the wood from Ray’s sled, which made perfect sense, considering he’d stolen Ben.
His back seized up suddenly, and he tried to ride out the pain, but nothing doing.
“Oh fuck!”
“Good morning, Ray.” He stood and walked over to Ray, staring down at him. “You really should have stopped fighting as soon as you realized how much stronger I am.”
“Fuck you.” Another spasm started before the first one ended, and Ray twisted around, trying to find relief from the pain.
“I can help you.”
“Like you helped yourself to Ben?” The words came out in breathless spurts between the jagged waves of agony. With any luck, he’d have a heart attack soon, and -
As suddenly as it started, the pain was gone. The spasms, too. Ray twisted his head around to look up. “What did you do?”
“Muscle relaxant,” he said, hold up a syringe. “Are you ready to talk now?”
No, he wasn’t, but now that his back had calmed down, Ray was getting reports from the rest of his body, and they weren’t good. His right hand felt like it might broken, which served him right, because he knew better than to use his fist in a bare-hands brawl. His left eye was mostly swollen shut, and there was a good chance his nose was broken. Unless the guy was planning to kill him soon, Ray was going to have to get to a doctor, and as far as he could tell, his evil twin was the only one who could help him.
God, he hated it when he had to play nice.
“Who are you?” he said finally.
“My name is Leoben Conoy.”
Either Conoy was stupid enough to tell Ray his name or it didn’t really matter that Ray knew. All things considered, Ray figured it didn’t matter that he knew, so death was probably back on the agenda after all.
“Where you from?”
“My answer won’t mean anything to you.” Conoy stood up. “Would you like something to eat? Breakfast is ready.”
“I, uh -” Ray wiggled a little. “I can’t exactly help myself here.”
Conoy reached down and hauled Ray to his knees, which wasn’t the most comfortable position. In fact, it sucked, having his back arched like that. “I’ll release you if you promise not to attack me again.”
It was easier to make that promise than Ray liked. Conoy had really cleaned his clock the night before, and he’d gotten the impression that Conoy could have done a lot worse to him.
“Thanks,” Ray said, after the traces were removed and handed to him. They were Bridget’s - he recognized the repair work he’d done a month earlier - and Ray had to bite back his anger one more time before he asking, “What happened to my dogs?”
“I released them and chased them toward town,” Conoy said. “If they headed home, they should be fine.”
“My sled?”
“Pushed down a crevasse.” Conoy held out a cup of steaming something. “Here. You need this.”
Ray took a sniff - hot chocolate - and drank it down as his rage stirred itself. “Why’d you do that? Why’d you make it look like I’m dead?” He was tempted to ask why the guy acted like Ben was alive, but it was clear that Conoy was just playing with him before killing him. Maybe if Ray played along, he’d be able to get the drop on the guy and find his way home again.
Or not. But if not, at least he’d be dead on his own terms and not someone else’s.
“It’s best if your friends and family think you’re dead,” Conoy said softly. “That way, they can mourn and get on with their life.”
“Hah! Like the way I did, right?” It really was funny, Ray thought, as he gasped for breath, and damn, how long had it been since he’d laughed so hard?
“Benton told me you would feel his absence keenly.” Ray’s laughter shut off just like that as Conoy continued speaking. “During those first few months, he begged to be brought back home.”
“What did you do to him?” Ray only just managed to keep himself still, though he made no guarantees about the next minute.
“I took him back to the base ship.” Conoy reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun - Ray’s, of course - and said, “You’re not going to like the story I’m about to tell you, but you need to hear it. I can either tie you up again or shoot you if you try to attack. It’s your choice, Ray.”
He tightened his jaw a couple of times before saying, “I’ll sit still. Talk.”
~*~*~
The sun was starting to go down by the time Ray said, “You made him choose how many people will die?”
God, he wanted to kill Conoy. Wanted to wrap his hands around the bastard’s throat and strangle him for what he and those other Cyclos had done to Ben, but every time he twitched a little in that direction, Conoy held the gun up in warning. Ray wasn’t sure he believed much of the man’s story, mostly because he hadn’t shown Ray his spaceship yet, but he was starting to believe that Ben might just be alive after all.
“Can you think of anyone you would trust more to make that decision for your planet?”
“No one should have to make that kind of choice. Don’t you get it?” Ray stood up abruptly, ignoring the release of the safety as he stomped away from Conoy. Whether the Cyclones could kill everyone on Earth or not was beside the point; the point was they’d somehow convinced Ben they could, and then they fucked him over with that story. “What the hell kind of monster are you?”
Conoy ignored that question and asked, “Do you want to see Benton again?”
Ray stood stock-still then turned around. “Of course I do.” He also wanted to pound Conoy’s face into the ice, but that fantasy would have to wait.
“Though I can take you to him, it will be a difficult journey.”
“Why?”
“I’m acting against the will of the others in making this offer, so you won’t receive medical treatment until we locate the Colonial ships.” Conoy tilted his head slightly. “Are you claustrophobic at all?”
“If you take me to Ben, I’ll deal.”
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: due South/Battlestar Galactica crossover
Notes: Another piece of that BSG thing, and we’re coming down to the wire. 1,850 words that are set immediately after Healer. Also, this is unbeta’d, so mistakes are my own.
Summary: It was dark when he woke up the first time.
~*~*~
It was dark when he woke up the first time.
There might have been a time before then when his eyes opened up, but he figured it was probably one of those whatsits - a waking dream - because how else could he explain seeing Ben and himself staring down at him? He couldn’t, so even though it had been light out that other time, he didn’t count it as actually waking up.
On the other hand, waking up now wasn’t much of a picnic either, because it was dark and he couldn’t hear the dogs. If nothing else, Truman should be whining and pawing at him, but he wasn’t, and that was a pretty strong clue that the team was dead or dying. No way would they leave him if he was still breathing, so maybe seeing Ben was a hint of things to come.
Ray let that thought roll around in his head for a while and eventually decided this was probably a good thing after all. He’d tried - God and most of Tuk knew he’d tried - but he just couldn’t get the hang of life after Ben died. It hurt so much some days, he couldn’t even haul his ass out of bed, and it wasn’t like there was any kind of medicine for that, no matter what Doc McManus tried to tell him.
He was drifting away again, willing the night to take him, when he heard, “You have to wake up.”
Ray didn’t bother opening his eyes. “Fuck off.”
The jerk shook his shoulder and said, “You’re awake now, Ray, and you have a decision to make.”
“Death,” he said, trying to shake the guy off. “I choose death. Now leave me alone.”
There was a long pause. “Why death?”
Ray opened his eyes and ended up glaring at - himself. Didn’t it just figure? All the people in the world an angel of death could choose to look like, and it chose to look like Ray. It confirmed a long-held suspicion that angels were, in fact, the supreme assholes of the universe.
“Ben’s dead,” he answered, speaking as slowly as he would to a dimwit. “I want to be with Ben, so I choose death. Now fuck off.”
“Benton isn’t dead.”
No fucking way was he an angel. Ray didn’t know who it was or why he looked like him, and he didn’t care, because he’d gone from drifting toward death to spitting fury in nothing flat and pinned the dickwad flat on his back less than five seconds later. He would have been faster, but he had to fight his way out of his sleeping bag first, and besides which, he was pushing fifty these days, which meant he was slower all the way around. Still, slow didn’t mean he couldn’t kick a head or two when he had to.
“I found him, you asshole! Found him and brought him home to bury. So don’t you dare try to fuck with me and tell me he’s alive, because I know he isn’t,” Ray ground out. He pounded the guy’s head into the tundra a couple of times before shoving himself away and standing. A quick look around confirmed the dogs and sled were gone, and if he hadn’t decided to die already, he might have been upset about that.
“You found a body that was built to look like Benton,” he answered calmly. “It was a necessary deception -”
Ray turned quickly and kicked the guy in the head. “Shut up!”
Turned out he might as well have kicked a rock, for all the good it did. The guy ignored the blood coming out of his mouth and stood up slowly. “Benton is alive.”
“If he was alive, he’d be here.”
“He can’t come back.” Christ, he sounded so calm and reasonable. Sounded like that prick of a shrink who’d tried to tell Ray a couple of years ago that maybe he should think about checking himself into the funny farm for a while.
“Yeah, right,” Ray said on a bitter laugh. “And you know this because?”
There was a long pause before he said, “I’m the one who took Benton away.”
~*~*~
The sky was either lightening or going dark the next time Ray woke up, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was hogtied on the ground, though apparently, his evil twin wasn’t quite ready to kill Ray yet, because he was on some kind of thermal blanket with another one covering him. If he could ever get around to dying, it wouldn’t be of exposure, which was kind of irritating.
Ray nudged the blanket down far enough so he could look around, and yep. There he was, sitting next to a fire. Bastard probably stole the wood from Ray’s sled, which made perfect sense, considering he’d stolen Ben.
His back seized up suddenly, and he tried to ride out the pain, but nothing doing.
“Oh fuck!”
“Good morning, Ray.” He stood and walked over to Ray, staring down at him. “You really should have stopped fighting as soon as you realized how much stronger I am.”
“Fuck you.” Another spasm started before the first one ended, and Ray twisted around, trying to find relief from the pain.
“I can help you.”
“Like you helped yourself to Ben?” The words came out in breathless spurts between the jagged waves of agony. With any luck, he’d have a heart attack soon, and -
As suddenly as it started, the pain was gone. The spasms, too. Ray twisted his head around to look up. “What did you do?”
“Muscle relaxant,” he said, hold up a syringe. “Are you ready to talk now?”
No, he wasn’t, but now that his back had calmed down, Ray was getting reports from the rest of his body, and they weren’t good. His right hand felt like it might broken, which served him right, because he knew better than to use his fist in a bare-hands brawl. His left eye was mostly swollen shut, and there was a good chance his nose was broken. Unless the guy was planning to kill him soon, Ray was going to have to get to a doctor, and as far as he could tell, his evil twin was the only one who could help him.
God, he hated it when he had to play nice.
“Who are you?” he said finally.
“My name is Leoben Conoy.”
Either Conoy was stupid enough to tell Ray his name or it didn’t really matter that Ray knew. All things considered, Ray figured it didn’t matter that he knew, so death was probably back on the agenda after all.
“Where you from?”
“My answer won’t mean anything to you.” Conoy stood up. “Would you like something to eat? Breakfast is ready.”
“I, uh -” Ray wiggled a little. “I can’t exactly help myself here.”
Conoy reached down and hauled Ray to his knees, which wasn’t the most comfortable position. In fact, it sucked, having his back arched like that. “I’ll release you if you promise not to attack me again.”
It was easier to make that promise than Ray liked. Conoy had really cleaned his clock the night before, and he’d gotten the impression that Conoy could have done a lot worse to him.
“Thanks,” Ray said, after the traces were removed and handed to him. They were Bridget’s - he recognized the repair work he’d done a month earlier - and Ray had to bite back his anger one more time before he asking, “What happened to my dogs?”
“I released them and chased them toward town,” Conoy said. “If they headed home, they should be fine.”
“My sled?”
“Pushed down a crevasse.” Conoy held out a cup of steaming something. “Here. You need this.”
Ray took a sniff - hot chocolate - and drank it down as his rage stirred itself. “Why’d you do that? Why’d you make it look like I’m dead?” He was tempted to ask why the guy acted like Ben was alive, but it was clear that Conoy was just playing with him before killing him. Maybe if Ray played along, he’d be able to get the drop on the guy and find his way home again.
Or not. But if not, at least he’d be dead on his own terms and not someone else’s.
“It’s best if your friends and family think you’re dead,” Conoy said softly. “That way, they can mourn and get on with their life.”
“Hah! Like the way I did, right?” It really was funny, Ray thought, as he gasped for breath, and damn, how long had it been since he’d laughed so hard?
“Benton told me you would feel his absence keenly.” Ray’s laughter shut off just like that as Conoy continued speaking. “During those first few months, he begged to be brought back home.”
“What did you do to him?” Ray only just managed to keep himself still, though he made no guarantees about the next minute.
“I took him back to the base ship.” Conoy reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun - Ray’s, of course - and said, “You’re not going to like the story I’m about to tell you, but you need to hear it. I can either tie you up again or shoot you if you try to attack. It’s your choice, Ray.”
He tightened his jaw a couple of times before saying, “I’ll sit still. Talk.”
~*~*~
The sun was starting to go down by the time Ray said, “You made him choose how many people will die?”
God, he wanted to kill Conoy. Wanted to wrap his hands around the bastard’s throat and strangle him for what he and those other Cyclos had done to Ben, but every time he twitched a little in that direction, Conoy held the gun up in warning. Ray wasn’t sure he believed much of the man’s story, mostly because he hadn’t shown Ray his spaceship yet, but he was starting to believe that Ben might just be alive after all.
“Can you think of anyone you would trust more to make that decision for your planet?”
“No one should have to make that kind of choice. Don’t you get it?” Ray stood up abruptly, ignoring the release of the safety as he stomped away from Conoy. Whether the Cyclones could kill everyone on Earth or not was beside the point; the point was they’d somehow convinced Ben they could, and then they fucked him over with that story. “What the hell kind of monster are you?”
Conoy ignored that question and asked, “Do you want to see Benton again?”
Ray stood stock-still then turned around. “Of course I do.” He also wanted to pound Conoy’s face into the ice, but that fantasy would have to wait.
“Though I can take you to him, it will be a difficult journey.”
“Why?”
“I’m acting against the will of the others in making this offer, so you won’t receive medical treatment until we locate the Colonial ships.” Conoy tilted his head slightly. “Are you claustrophobic at all?”
“If you take me to Ben, I’ll deal.”