Inertia
by lamardeuse
Rated: PG
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Warnings (highlight to view): nothing to warn for
due South Flashfiction challenge: phone
~Part One~
"So, like, here's the thing."
"Ray?"
"No, let's get one thing straight, no interruptions here, okay? No harm, no foul."
Fraser cast a quick glance around the squad room. Susan Aglukark was busily working on the computer, and a couple of the other officers were discussing a case in the opposite corner. They were paying him no mind, or so he hoped.
"Hello, Fraser? You still there?"
"Yes." He frowned. "I thought you said no interruptions."
"Yeah, right, I did, only--okay, I lost my momentum here, gotta get it back--"
A tiny smile tugged free of Fraser's scowl. It was difficult to imagine Ray at a standstill. Momentum was his middle name.
But here, in the Northwest Areas, Ray had met an immoveable object, immune to his inertia. Stopping him dead in his tracks. Cancelling him out.
Fraser closed his eyes briefly.
"Look, I just wanted to say, I don't know what the fuck happened there, at the airport, but whatever it was, I'm sorry."
Whatever it was?
"It was a kiss, Ray."
"Jeez. I said--"
"--no interruptions. I apologize."
"All right, okay." The sound of a ragged breath being drawn. "Yeah, bonus points for you, it was a kiss. And I had no right--I mean, it wasn't what I--it just happened, right? And I can't take it back."
Do you want to?
"Not that I want--fuck, fuck, fuck."
Silence.
"Ray?"
"Still here. Man, I thought this would be easier somehow, you a thousand miles away--"
"Actually, the distance between Inuvik and Chicago is--"
"Shut up. It's like you're here, you're still here, or I'm still there, I don't know, but even after three weeks of distance I can't shake you, can't get you out of my head. It's not just your mouth, though Christ--"
Air hissed across Fraser's front teeth, chilling them to the point of pain. Susan looked up briefly from the monitor, then returned her attention to the glowing screen.
"--not like I haven't been thinking about that, too. It's that I can still hear you and see you, and God, smell you. The only other human thing in that whole goddamned place, and I could close my eyes and find you with one good sniff--"
Ray, Ray, Ray--
"Can you imagine what that's like? To live your entire life trying not to smell stuff, because you live behind the packing plant, or it's two a.m. and you're in an alley with a guy who's been dead for a week and a half? And then to be stripped clean, stripped bare, like you're fucking being reborn, and all your senses wake up and take notice--"
"I understand, Ray. You don't have to explain--"
"Explain what? What am I explaining?"
Fraser summoned his strength. He'd spent a great deal of time formulating a probable cause for Ray's behaviour at the airport, and Ray's words seemed to be corroborating his theory.
"You experienced a perfectly natural reaction to being under extreme stress. You were thrust into an alien, hostile environment, and I was your only link to the life you knew. It's normal to imprint upon the person whom you, whether consciously or unconsciously, feel that you depend on for survival."
A dry chuckle wafted to him over the distance between them. "See, it's a measure of how royally fucked up I am that I actually get that. But there's a tiny hole in your theory, Mountie-man."
A pause. Fraser licked his lips. "And what's that?"
"I was the one who thrust myself. I was the one who said, 'let's go find that hand'."
Fraser was suddenly conscious of the slow, thudding beat of his heart.
"I was the one who knew I was crazy about you, before we even went on that adventure."
Fraser forced the word out. "Before?"
"Yeah, before." Ray sounded relieved, calm, just when Fraser was ready to burst.
"H-how long before?"
"What the fuck does it matter? You taking a poll? How Long it Takes for your Partners to Fall Head over Heels?" Ray's words were angry, but his tone was sad now, resigned.
Fraser had finally managed, contrary to the laws of physics, to stop an irresistible force.
"Ray?"
"Yeah?"
I wish I could.
I wish I could--
--move.
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah," Ray said, and Fraser could see his long, thin fingers scrubbing through the spiky hair on his head. "Yeah, me too."
And Fraser was left with a dial tone.
~Part Two~
"I've been thinking, Ray."
"Whuzzz--Frazzzzer? Wha--"
"Are you awake?"
"I am now. Jesus, it's three thirty."
A huff of breath. "Don't you want to know what I've been thinking about?"
"Mmm." A soft thud that might be the sound of Ray's head hitting the pillow. "I'll take a guess, how's that? You woke me from a sound sleep to tell me you got promoted."
"No."
"You wanted me to know Dief had puppies."
A snort. "Unlikely."
"Miracle of modern fuckin' medicine, what do I know?" Ray's voice was small now, lostness bleeding around its edges. "Can we do this tomorrow? Can you call back tomorrow, when I'm awake?"
A pause. "I suppose I could--" Another pause. "No, I couldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because--I want to tell you now." He was aware he sounded like a petulant child. He didn't care. He finally had acquired some momentum, and Ray was going to be the one to poleaxe him?
"All right, already."
Fraser listened to himself breathe.
"So, go. You gonna go?"
"Go where?"
"Talk to me, Frase. Talk, already. Just get it--"
"I love you."
Silence, because Fraser was no longer breathing.
"How come?"
It was about the last question he'd been expecting to hear. All he could manage was to repeat it, like a particularly intelligent parrot. "How come?"
"Yeah, how come? They don't have how come in the Arctic? Like, it means, why?"
"I know what it means. I just don't see how--why it's important to explore--"
"At this juncture?" Ray asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "You call me up eleven--no, twelve--hours after I call you and tell you I'm a fag and like magic, wave the wand, Harry Potter, you're one too?" He chuckled, but the amusement had died. "You're somethin' else, you know that?"
Fraser frowned. "Are you trying to imply that I'm a sympathetic homosexual?"
"Huh. Cute. Yeah, somethin' like that. But don't worry, Frase buddy, 'it's a perfectly natural reaction to being under extreme stress.'"
Fraser closed his eyes. This wasn't at all how he--
"You still there?"
"Yes, Ray."
"So look, it's real nice of you and all, and I appreciate it, but I'm gonna survive. No bullshit, okay? I'll get over it."
Fraser swallowed. "I'm--happy for you, Ray."
"So, you can just tuck yourself into your bed and count sled dogs jumping over the ice crevasse, and you'll be asleep in no time."
"I, ah, well, that's going to be difficult," Fraser said, rubbing at his eyebrow until he feared it might come off.
"Whyzat? You got a problem with endangering the lives of imaginary sled dogs?"
"No. I, ah, I don't happen to be near my bed at this time."
"Oh. Still at work, huh?"
"No. I'm in a phone booth."
Ray snorted. "Yeah, Superman. Like there's a phone booth in Inuvik."
"There isn't. Well, there was one until the winter of 1983, when a man named Stinky Milligan...it isn't important."
Fraser listened to the hum of the phone line. The service here was appalling, considering--
"Where are you? Where?" The volume of Ray's words made the connection crackle and splutter.
Fraser inhaled, held the air in his lungs a moment, let it escape. "In a phone booth across the street from your apartment."
"Jesus. Wait, wait--"
"I can't wait," Fraser said. "I have to keep moving. Now that I've started, I can't seem to stop."
"Fraser--"
"You see, I took this bus. Then I took a plane. Then I--"
"Don't. Why are you--"
"Because," Fraser said calmly, "I knew, before. Long before. And God help me--" He trailed off, choking back the words.
"Dammit, Fraser--"
The words burst forth. "I don't want you to survive," Fraser said fervently. "I don't want you to survive without me."
"Hang up the goddamn phone," Ray growled.
"And?"
"And move."
And Fraser was left with a dial tone.
End
June 2003
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