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It was nearly two in the morning by the time Ray worked up the nerve to pull the telephone receiver off its cradle. For the last hour, he had been pacing past the coffee table where the phone rested, and for the hour before that he had been pacing in the hallway outside the living room, unable to even be in the same room as the telephone without feeling ill.
Now with the phone in hand, the nausea had increased ten-fold and Ray worried that he may throw up the meagre contents of his stomach. To combat the reappearance of four cups of coffee and a stale bagel, Ray sat down heavily on the lumpy couch and placed his head between his knees. In this position, he couldn't see the phone, which was helpful, but it placed his watch right next to his ear, and each tick of the second's hand reminded him that he was running out of time.
With a deep breath, he drew a slip of paper from his pocket. Logically, he knew he did not need the piece of paper. Since he found it on his desk on the 27th he had read it so many times that he had the message imprinted on the inside of his eyelids. Yet he allowed his eyes to trace over the careful printing once more and let himself hear Fraser's steady voice in his head.
Ray,
I have decided to use the sick leave I have accumulated to go North early. I can be reached through the RCMP detachment in Inuvik NWT. Their number is (867)-699-2167. If I do not hear from you by the 13th of January I will take your silence as an answer.
-B. Fraser
Even after reading the message so many times, Ray still felt a cold feeling slithering in his stomach. Fraser never used this tone- this formal Mountie speak- with him. He reserved it for superior officers and the vilest criminals they arrested. The people who Fraser felt deserved the utmost respect, and the people who had committed such awful acts that the only way Fraser could treat them as human beings was by creating an impenetrable wall of politeness around himself.
Ray didn't ponder which group he fell into. After the events of that disastrous evening in his car, the last time he had seen Fraser, he didn't need to speculate. Just the slightest thought of that night made a melting pot of emotions bubble up inside Ray.
The night in question, a day before the note appeared on his desk, started out like any evening with Fraser, which is to say it started out weird. But not weird in the way Fraser was normally weird. In fact, it was the complete opposite of the standard level of weirdness that Ray had come to expect, which arguably made it even weirder. That night there was no "Ray, you missed that stop sign back there," or "Ray it may interest you to know that the Inuit have a word for this exact kind of snow...". There wasn't even any touching, sniffing or licking of disgusting materials found in even more disgusting locations. Instead, Fraser just looked out the window as they drove through downtown, as silent as he was on guard duty.
Frankly, it freaked Ray right out, and after he made two left turns without signalling he decided he had to say something. Pulling into a parking space in front of a twenty-four-hour laundromat, Ray spun to look at Fraser.
"Alright, what is going on? Did the Canadians lose the curling world championship or something?"
Fraser looked startled to realize that the car had stopped and Ray was speaking to him, but with a small frown, he answered. "The curling championships are in April."
"You know what I mean," Ray sighed. "What's on your mind?"
Fraser's hand went up to rub at his eyebrow. "Ray, I have something I need to tell you. It's-uh- it's important."
"Okay?"
"I...I," Fraser was rubbing at his eyebrow so intently that Ray was half worried that he may rub it right off. "I don't know how to say this. I practiced with Diefenbaker, but it's... it's different to say it to someone who can understand. Not that Diefenbaker doesn't understand me- he is exceptionally intelligent-"
"Fraser," Ray said sharply. It was only one word but Fraser knew that what Ray really meant to say was: shut up you absolute nutjob, you're rambling.
"Sorry, Ray."
Sighing, Ray pulled Fraser's hand down from his face and tried to meet his partner's gaze. Fraser's eyes were wide and wet. Ray's stomach turned to lead.
"Holy shit, you aren't dying or something are you?"
If it was possible, Fraser's eyes got wider.
"No! No, I'm fine, it's nothing like that. I'm not going anywhere-well not immediately...." His voice trailed off as he suddenly became very focused on an imaginary speck of mud on his pristine boots.
"What?"
"Pardon?" Fraser did not look up from his boots.
"What do you mean not immediately?"
"Oh, well you see-"
"No, I don't see, Frase. You haven't made a lick of sense all night, what is going on?" Ray felt a prickle of irritation along his neck. Why couldn't Fraser just say what he meant?
Taking a long exhale, Fraser murmured something to his boots.
"What?" Ray roughly pushed a hand through his spiky hair, making it stand up even more erratically. "Goddammit, Frase! Just spit it out!"
His voice was sharp, sharper than it probably needed to be, judging by the way Fraser stiffened. Ray was just about to apologize when Fraser answered, his head still turned away, but his voice was clear as glacial ice.
"Last week Inspector Thatcher received a phone call from Ottawa. It seems that they believe my skills are not suitable for an urban environment such as Chicago."
"What do you mean not suitable?" This is not what Ray was expecting. Fraser was meticulous when he did paperwork and no one cared more about helping people than him. And sentry duty? That was Fraser's calling. The guy was so still that the art museum curator had phoned the consulate to ask what artist they had commissioned to sculpt that "Adonis in the red suit".
"According to them, there are other constables who are more suited for my position," Fraser said carefully.
Ray frowned. "So what does that mean? You're getting a demotion? You'll have to answer to Turnbull or something now?"
A glimpse of a smile ghosted across Fraser's face, but it was gone as quickly as it came.
"No. It means that they are highly encouraging me to take the transfer they have offered me."
"A transfer?" Ray felt like the driver's seat was suddenly sliding out from underneath him. "Like to another consulate?"
"Not exactly," Fraser was worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth. It was a sign of anxiety that Ray had seldom seen in him before. "They have offered me a transfer home."
"Home? Like 'the True North Strong and Free'? The one with all the ice and the moose and those giant rats with the weird tails?"
"Beavers, Ray, they're called beavers, and they are rodents, not rats. But yes, Canada. There is a detachment in the Northwest Territories that has been in need of a new officer for some time. They have offered it to me."
Ray blinked hard, trying to register what Fraser was telling him. He remembered after his first meeting with Fraser, he had asked Welsh what the timeline was on getting "Nanook of the North set back to his igloo". Welsh had only shaken his head and told him that Canada didn't want Fraser back. At the time it had frustrated him to no end that the big-wigs in Canada wouldn't take back their obviously insane mountain man. But after a while, Ray became secretly glad that Fraser couldn't go home because he wasn't sure what he would do without him. Fraser being on Canada's blacklist meant he got to keep the mountie all to himself. That is, until now.
Something had to have changed, so Ray asked Fraser as much.
"To the best of my knowledge, there have been some changes in leadership," Fraser said, shrugging non-committedly. "That, along with my long-standing transfer request, is probably the root cause."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, long-standing transfer request?" Ray was so confused that for a moment he understood how Turnbull must feel daily. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Fraser had the audacity to look confused.
"The request I've had in to go home since I got to Chicago."
"The what?"
"I don't understand, Ray. I thought you knew about this."
"Obviously not!" Ray's voice was getting shrill, but he couldn't help it. Fraser was acting so calm. How could he be so calm, so...detached when he was admitting that he'd been trying to leave Chicago, trying to leave him, and had neglected to say anything?
"I'm sorry Ray, I genuinely thought you knew that I wanted to return to Canada eventually so-"
"Yeah eventually," Ray cut him off. "But I didn't think you meant as soon as you could. I didn't think you were getting transfers offered to you every second Tuesday!"
"Ray," Fraser's tone betrayed a hint of irritation. "As I said, I only received this offer because of the change in leadership in Ottawa, I did not receive any others as your partner."
"But you had the request in," Ray accused.
"Yes, I did."
"Why?"
Fraser sighed heavily.
"Because Chicago was never a long-term decision for me, I always planned to return home. It's where I belong. We've discussed this before."
"Oh we have, have we? Well, maybe it ain't enough!" Ray could feel himself getting panicky, so he did the only thing he knew to do when he was scared: bury his fear with anger.
"Pardon me?"
"You heard me." Ray hissed. "Don't give me some crock about it 'being where you belong', that's not enough."
"Enough of what?" Fraser was no longer attempting to hide his annoyance and it made Ray perversely happy. He wanted a fight.
"Enough of a reason to leave!"
"Oh, so the fact that I live in an overgrown linen closet isn't a good reason? The fact that I can't even see stars most nights because the smog here is so thick? The fact that Inspector Thatcher treats me a fancy lawn decoration most of the time? The fact that half the people in this city act like I'm certifiably insane because I grew up a little different from them? Which- let me tell you- is better than the other half, who treat me like a sideshow attraction because of my uniform. Back home it's different, I may not be totally normal to them either, but at least they have the decency to show me some respect!"
Fraser was breathing in little gasps after his speech, and if Ray was a slightly better person he would have paused to collect himself before answering. Unfortunately, Ray was not a better person that night.
"Oh boohoo! With that stupid Santa jacket and stetson and striped pumpkin pants, you do look like a sideshow attraction! Have you seen yourself? Have you ever looked in a mirror and seen what is looking back at you? Of course everyone you meet treats you like you're crazy because not only do you look it when you open your mouth you prove it!"
"Ray, I'm sorr-"
"And there you go again! Apologizing to people who insult you! You want respect around here? Grown a spine and stand up for yourself!"
Fraser swallowed hard, and when he spoke his voice sounded forced.
"I don't want to fight with you Ray."
"Oh, you don't? Well, then why don't you just go the fuck back home now! Why hang around here with me when you so obviously hate it? Go back to your igloo and your ice fishing and your polite little Mountie friends where you belong, see if I care. Why even bother telling me you were going?!"
"Because I wanted you to give me a reason to stay!"
Fraser's final outburst caused all the words that Ray had been planning to hurl at Fraser to curl up and die on his tongue. A reason to stay. Ray could imagine saying it right now, just blurting it out. "Me, I'm a reason to stay. I love you. I don't know when it started, or understand how or even why, but you're the only person I have, you're the only person I've loved since Stella, and I can't bear to lose you too. Stay."
But this isn't a hallmark movie. Those words would bear everything, and Ray did not do that sort of thing. When the choice came between vulnerability and anger, anger won every time.
"How dare you."
"Excuse me?"
"You know what I said. How dare you pin this on me. What do you want me to say? 'Oh Fraser, don't go back to the place you "belong", stay here in the city you despise for me?' And you would because you just love to play the martyr. After all, you're so kind, so selfless. Well, let me tell you the truth. This is really fucking selfish of you, putting your decision on me so I can be the reason you're unhappy instead of it being your own choice. Do you truly think I'm that pathetic? You should go back to Canada, we'd both be better off alone."
For a moment, all Ray could hear was the hum of the laundromat washing machines and the blood thrumming through his ears. Fraser had gone still and was deadly silent, like a deer who had just caught the scent of a coyote. Instantly, Ray wanted Fraser to say something, to curse him out, scream, or even attempt another bloody apology, just make some sort of noise, but that was not in the cards. Instead, Fraser simply swallowed hard, retrieved his stetson from the dash, opened his car door, and left Ray sitting alone in the harsh glow of the laundromat. The soft snick of the door closing behind Fraser sounded like the closing of a coffin lid.
Ray wished Fraser would have slammed the door. Wished he would have closed it so hard that the window shattered. Then at least he would have the glass shards to clutch instead of this stupid piece of paper. They'd probably hurt less to hold.
"And yet here we are," Ray said, addressing the slip of paper. Going by the time on the stove, it was 1:50am, which meant it was 11:50pm in Inuvik if he had read the time zone map correctly. He had ten minutes to calm down, dial, and figure out what to say, which was honestly easier said than done. After the look on Fraser's face when he got out of the car, Ray wondered if calling was even the right thing to do. Knowing him, he'd find a way to hurt Fraser even more than he already had.
Ray set the phone down.
"Take my silence as my answer," Hee said softly to the empty apartment, then stood up to go to bed.
Ray managed to lie in his bed for a grand total of five minutes before he couldn't stand it anymore. Cursing, he rushed to the living room and began to dial. As the line rang, Ray glanced at his watch and noticed with a horrible sinking feeling that it was much closer to two than he had initially thought. If no one picked up-
"No," Ray said aloud, not allowing him to think that far. Thinking always got him into trouble. "Nope, they're gonna pick up, they have to pick up, it's a fucking police station they have to pick up, what if I was dying? It could-"
"Hello, Inuvik RCMP," The voice was tinny with static, but it was undeniably a voice. "Did you just say you were dying?"
"Yes!" Ray crowed but quickly recovered. "I mean no! I'm fine, I'm just so glad you picked up, it's important-"
"Is this an emergency? Tell me your location, sir, and I'll send an officer out right away."
"No, no it's not an emergency-well it is for me, but not your kind of emergency-you see I'm in Chicago-"
"Chicago, like in Illinois?" The voice, a young lady, Ray was certain of it now, seemed to be extremely concerned. "Sir, if you just give me a moment I will connect your call to our consulate and they will be able to help you more efficiently."
"No! Don't transfer me! I need to talk to Fraser!"
"Do you mean Constable Fraser?" She asked.
"Yes!" Ray risked a glance at his watch and immediately regretted it because of the wave of nausea that rolled through him. Two minutes to two. There was a long pause, an insufferably long pause.
"I'm sorry, the Constable isn't here."
"Oh." The noise was almost involuntary like someone had punched him in the gut. He'd taken Ray's silence for an answer. Fraser was gone. "Is he coming back?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Ever?" Ray managed to choke out.
"Eventually," The lady amended. "In a couple months he would have to come back to pick up supplies...but maybe not actually. There have been very few non-Inuit trackers as good as Constable Fraser, he may choose to live off the grid indefinitely, or only come to Inuvik once a year. He's a true Northerner."
Ray tried to ignore the twinge of pain that statement sent through him. "Can you give me the number for his detachment?"
"That isn't possible," She said immediately. "There isn't a phone in Sachs Harbour."
There was a long pause as it truly sunk in that Fraser was out of his reach. He'd finally fucked up so bad that not even Fraser, the dictionary definition of loyal, stayed with him. Ray felt a feeling in his stomach that he hadn't felt since the papers came back from his divorce. Despair.
"I can take a message though," The lady offered, almost hesitant.
"Just tell me your name and your message, and I promise I can get it to him. I have excellent shorthand, in English and French."
"Oh uh..."
"Your name?" She prompted.
"Ray Kowalski."
There was an intake of breath on the other end of the phone, almost too quiet to hear, but Ray caught it.
"Is there a problem?"
"Yes, er I mean no," The lady answered hurriedly. "It's just... never mind. Your message?"
God, what do I say? Ray bit his lip. Hi Fraser, I know this is too late, but I want to... to what? To talk? To apologize? To understand why you left before I could call? To understand why I'm calling? Ray knew if he could just see Fraser, or even just hear his voice he'd know what to say, but here, standing in his lonely apartment, talking on the phone to a lady in the loneliest part of the world, he felt like there was no way he could distill the awful feeling in his chest into words. There were no words for the leaden ache he felt when he imagined driving past the consulate alone and not stopping or the sharp stab he felt just behind his ribs when he thought about Fraser, a lone figure in the blinding snow, so perfectly happy that he never even spared a moment to think of Ray. How do you explain something you don't even understand yourself?
"Mr.Kowalski? Are you still there?"
"Yes, sorry." Ray cleared his throat. "Uh, tell him... Tell him that Chicago says hello."
Through the phone Ray could hear the quiet scratch of a pencil on paper, then silence.
"Tell him that it's been...cold," He said slowly, but gaining confidence as he continued. "Tell him I hope he's doin' well, and that I talked to Welsh, Huey and Dewey, and Francesca, and they... they miss him. It's going to be tough for us...for me, to make it through without him."
"Is that everything?" Her voice was carefully measured, betraying no emotion. Ray wondered offhand if that was something they taught in Mountie-school."
Tell him that I really miss his laugh... And tell him that I'm sick about the past. Tell him what I'd do for one more chance." Ray paused, gathering up all the courage he had left. "Tell him that I wish he'd come home."
The line was quiet save for the scratch of the pencil and Ray's beating heart. He'd said it, and now it was out in the world and he couldn't take it back. As a cop, he'd been in a lot of terrifying situations, but for the life of him, he could not remember a moment he'd felt this scared.
"Is that all?" The lady asked.
"Yeah." It came out more like a rush of air than a word.
"I'll send it with the next person heading to Sachs Harbour."
Ray found himself nodding, imagining when Fraser got his note. More likely than not, it would get to him in a few months, and spring would beginning to peek through the snow. He'd probably meet the hunter or fisherman or reindeer herder or whoever his note ended up with, out in the middle of nowhere, but he'd tuck it inside his coat so he could read it in the relative privacy of the cabin. His eyebrows would probably scrunch up in confusion at first, and then he'd read it over again, maybe three times. Fraser was nothing if not thorough. And then he'd probably think for a moment, then, after making up his mind, crumple it up and toss it into the fire. He'd probably even laugh a little, laugh at Ray for his desperation, for his naivety, for Ray's belief that he'd even consider trading the North for a skinny cop that can't keep his foot out of his mouth.
A stupid note won't bring fix this. Ray realized, and what little hope he had left disintegrated like the first snowflake on asphalt as he stared at his apartment.
In his mind's eye, he could see Fraser coming through the front door-after knocking of course- like he did all those Saturday nights they watched hockey (Fraser's pick) or basketball (Ray's) on his lumpy couch. Not anymore. Fraser would never leave his hat and red coat on the coat hook. He'd never swear quietly under his breath when the Bruins went up 3-0 against the Habs. And he'd certainly never ever give Ray that painfully fond look that he would sometimes catch out of the corner of his eye, but was never brave enough to return. No matter how much he wanted to.
If I could just see him. Ray thought. Just look him in the eye and I'd know what to do. Then it struck him. Why not?
"If that is all, I'm going to hang up now-"
"Wait!" Ray said.
"Yes?"
"Tear it up."
"What?"
"Tear it up," Ray repeated. "I-I can't do this."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Don't let Fraser see it, please."
"Oh-kay..." She sounded hesitant.
"Just throw it away, alright?"
"Do you want me to tell him you called at least?"
"Just try to get him to come back to Inuvik, tell him it's important."
"I don't understand-"
"Neither do I," Ray admitted. "But I know that I am in the wrong place."
Then he hung up the phone.
~Before~
Constable Nora Bernhard had been questioning her sanity for about three weeks when she heard a snowmobile roar up through the night to her detachment.
Well, she was fairly certain it was night, though she hadn't seen the sun since late November and she had begun to question if the time presented on her watch was really accurate. It didn't have an AM or PM, so who was to say that what she thought was 11:55AM was really 11:55PM and she had inadvertently become nocturnal? Anyway, it didn't really matter, because morning or night, she was no longer alone and the thought of another person, a sane person, to talk to was enough to make her near giddy with excitement. Before the snowmobile had even stopped Nora was out the door of the cabin and rushing down the steps, eager to take stock of the stranger. It hadn't even occurred to her to be wary, she was just so excited to no longer be alone.
"Hello!" She called, putting up her hand to wave at the figure still cloaked in the winter darkness.
The stranger returned her wave, though whatever they called out to her fell victim to the snow's ability to devour sound.
He-Nora was almost certain the stranger was a man-pulled the snowmobile up beside her and into the paltry light that spilled from the open cabin door, giving her her first real look at him as he removed his snow goggles and balaclava.
Holy shit. Nora thought instantly. Bob Fraser.
"Oh, it's Benton actually, I'm his son. Most people prefer to call me Fraser." The man on the snowmobile said, and Nora realized she had been thinking out loud, a habit that was hard to break after so much time alone.
"Oh, sorry!" Nora stuttered out. "It's just that you look so much like a young Bob Fraser, well of course you do, you're his son, but he's a legend around here and-"
Fraser was smiling slightly. "It's alright, I get that a lot-well, I haven't for a while, but I used to. And you are?"
"Nora, Constable Nora Bernhard." Nora stuck her hand out, suddenly remembering her manners. "Please, come inside out of the cold."
"It's a pleasure to meet you." He shook her hand, then followed her into the cabin.
Technically, Nora knew it was impolite to pry, but as she watched Fraser step out of his ski boots she couldn't help but be curious as to why the famously Chicago-bound mountie was suddenly here, dripping snow onto the floor of her mudroom.
"So," Nora said carefully, attempting to mimic nonchalant, "I was notified that a new officer would be coming through on their way to Sachs Harbour, but Ottawa said they wouldn't arrive for at least another week. And they didn't tell me who would be arriving."
She didn't say it outright, but by the flicker in Fraser's eye, she knew he understood her real question. Why are you here? And more importantly, why are you here?
"Yes," Fraser nodded, not looking up from the buttons of his snow pants and purposefully avoiding her gaze. "I ended up being able to leave my last posting earlier than expected."
"Ah, where were you stationed last?" Nora knew his answer already, but she could sense that there was a story behind Fraser's neutral mask.
"The consulate in Chicago."
"Wow, Sachs Harbour is going to be a change of pace then."
Fraser nodded but did not volunteer anything else.
"Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea?" Nora offered.
"If it isn't too much trouble, some tea would be nice."
Smiling at Fraser's excess politeness, Nora motioned to the small table crammed next to the woodstove. "Make yourself comfortable, it will just take a moment."
With her back to Fraser, Nora began to measure out the leaves and set the kettle up, her hands going on autopilot as her mind turned out endless questions she wanted to ask Fraser.
Did your father really save Buck Frobisher's life twelve times?
Is it true that you received a letter of commendation from an Inuit elder for your role in dismantling the largest caribou rustling ring in North America?
What was Chicago like?
Why did you come back?
Do you really have a deaf half-wolf?
Her mother had always told her that she asked too many questions. That she scared people away.
Well, mum, Nora thought with a silent laugh as she turned and opened her mouth to speak. He's got nowhere to go to.
But Fraser beat her to it.
"Constable Bernhard, I understand that this is a bit foreword, but I was wondering if it would be too inconvenient if I were to stay here for a few days? Diefenbaker- my half-wolf- is being quarantined in Yellowknife till the end of the week, and I paid the mail carrier to bring him as far as Inuvik once he is out of quarantine, but no one was willing to bring him all the way to Sachs Harbour. If it will not trouble you, I would like to wait here for him."
"Oh, of course," Nora handed him his tea. "I'm happy to have the company. Or if you'd rather get to Sachs Harbour early, there's a hunter that travels between here and Sachs Harbour fairly often, I could ask him to bring Diefenbaker to you. Or if that won't work, I could have Winston, the officer you are replacing, bring him to you when he gets here?"
"He would do that?" Fraser looked surprised.
"For the man who is getting him out of Satan's Harbour?" Nora laughed. "He'd probably give you his firstborn if you asked."
"Satan's Harbour?"
"Oh, no, it's not that bad," Nora said hastily. "It's one of the most beautiful places in the world, and probably among the least touched by humans on the planet. I think Winston was just not used to being so isolated."
She paused and took a sip from her chipped mug. "Sachs Harbour is..... It's a place for people who do best in their own company."
Looking up from her tea, Nora realized that Fraser was staring at her. But more like he was looking through her than at her.
"It sounds nice," Fraser said softly. "It sounds like the kind of place I'm meant to be."
His hands were shaking ever so slightly as he lifted the mug and Nora could not stop herself from opening her mouth.
"Do you want to tell me about her?"
Fraser paused, the cup halfway to his mouth. "I beg your pardon?"
"The person you left back in Chicago, she must have hurt you awfully bad for you to think Sachs Harbour will be your saving grace."
Setting his cup down with a long sigh, Fraser propped his elbows on the table and rested his face on his palms."
He," He finally said. "His name was Ray and...."
Fraser trailed off and was silent for so long that Nora almost believed he was going to leave it at that, but then he began to speak, slow and softly.
"I don't know how to explain it, what he was to me, it just feels so-" Fraser sighed, then bit his lip. "The first time I left the Northwest Territories I was eighteen on my way to depot in Regina. I was so anxious that my grandparents had to stop the truck twice on the way to the airport so I could throw up. I was never meant for the city, not really. I could survive there, of course, but I never really felt comfortable. Everything was so loud, so bright, so sharp, just so overwhelming that it felt I could never let down my guard. I would always be an outsider there. But then I met him, and he was just as loud and as overwhelming as the rest of the city...but when it was him I couldn't get enough of it. With him, I craved loudness and the lights, I wanted to hear his voice, and I wanted to see the fire dance in his eyes. He made me feel- not like I had come home- but like I didn't need to miss home anymore. I even used to plan what times I had to be at the consulate so he would have to drive me back during rush hour just so we could be in the car together a little longer." Fraser blushed as he said this, like he found it embarrassing to admit this.
"I may not know much about the topic," Nora admitted. "But it sounds like you loved him."
"Love has never been my area of expertise. I thought I had it once but I couldn't have been more wrong. And then with him, I thought I finally understood how it was supposed to be, but I was wrong again."
"So you realized you didn't actually love him?" Nora was utterly confused.
"No, I realized he didn't love me."
"Oh."
And there it was, the answer to why Fraser was sitting at her dinner table and not galavanting through the streets of Chicago. Heartbreak, the simplest and most complex explanation for why anyone did anything. After that, the story tumbled out and Nora listened, half stunned, as Fraser explained how the fight had started, then the fallout, and the night he spent wandering half-blind through the streets trying to organize his thoughts. Then the note that he had left at the precinct. Fraser cleared his throat once he finished and it was a harsh, broken sound.
"I'm sorry, I've been so impolite, dumping all of this on you."
"No, no it's alright," Nora said quickly. "We all need someone to talk to."
Fraser nodded then looked up almost sheepishly. "I-I don't know what I'm going to do. I gave him till the thirteenth, but I don't know what I'll do if he phones, or if... he doesn't."
Frowning, Nora studied the mountie, who frankly, was a complete mess. After hearing the full story and seeing how difficult it was for Fraser to tell her, how his voice had broke when he had repeated Ray's final words to her, she did not have many fond feelings for the American at all.
"I think there's only one thing you can do." She said.
"What?"
"Go to Sachs Harbour tomorrow morning. I'll make sure Diefenbaker gets to you. You are torturing yourself staying here."
"But what if he calls?"
Nora shook her head. "Constable, you can't let him take this decision from you. If you wait and he phones to beg you to come back you'll spend the rest of your life waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to turn on you again. And if he doesn't phone, your going to Sachs Harbour will be his decision, it would be like he is exiling you. If you go on your own free will you have a real chance of being happy there. And you could stay there, or you could leave, you could do whatever you want because it won't be an exile, it will be freedom."
Fraser stared into the bottom of his mug like he was hoping the answers would rise out of the tea. "You're right."
Fraser didn't say more than a dozen words till the next morning, as he climbed onto his snowmobile.
"Constable Bernhard, thank you kindly for... for everything."
Nora smiled. "Have a safe trip, Constable."
Nodding, he turned his gaze to the horizon and started the snowmobile engine. As Nora watched Fraser's shape disappear over the horizon she had a flash of regret.
Maybe I should have told Fraser to stay?
No. She decided. Having your heart broken once is enough.
And with that, she returned to the cabin. She had a half-wolf delivery to secure, after all
~Now~
By the time the plane was making its descent into Yellowknife Ray was beginning to seriously regret his "drop everything and get on an airplane" plan. Not just because he'd been so nervous he was physically incapable of falling asleep, but because he had radically underestimated a few very important things.
1)How far Yellowknife really was from Chicago. Eleven bloody hours in the air, plus two layovers! They're on the same continent people, it shouldn't be that difficult!
2) How cold Canada was. Not like it wasn't cold in Chicago when he left, but this was a different kind of cold. The kind of cold that made you shiver just from looking out the window.
3) How dark it would be. According to the less than enthusiastic lady at the visitor information desk, he was about a week too early for sunrise.
All things considered, he was miserable, but on the bright side, he had secured himself transport to Inuvik with a mail carrier who owns a small airplane and needed "extra cargo" to balance out his load. Ray's pilot did not seem exactly pleased to see him, but after giving him a once over he grunted and jerked his head towards what a more optimistic person would call an airplane. Ray would call it a death trap.
"I guess you'll weigh enough. Probably easier to deal with in the cockpit too, instead of that whiny dog."
"Dog?" Ray asked.
The pilot pointed to an animal crate being loaded onto the airplane. "Some guy's mutt just cleared quarantine. If you weren't here it would've had to ride shotgun."
The dog, as if it knew it was being talked about, let out a disgruntled bark. A bark which Ray recognized.
"Diefenbaker?"
There was another harrumphing bark from the crate, almost as its inhabitant was saying "Who do you think it is? Santa Claus?"
Without a second glance at the pilot, Ray rushed over to the crate, and sure enough, there was Diefenbaker, staring petulantly out from behind the wire door.
"Dief!" Ray reached his fingers into the crate, attempting to scratch the wolf's ears, but quickly snatched them back when Dief-he couldn't believe it- snapped at him."Hey, watch it! Jesus, what happened to you?"
Ray scowled at the wolf, who scowled right back at him. The teenager who was loading the crate winced.
"Don't take it personally, he's been in a bad mood since his owner left."
Ray sighed. "I know the feeling."
Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the remaining half of the bologna sandwich he had paid an exuberant amount for in O'Hare and offered it to Dief.
"Here, buddy."
Dief looked at Ray, then to the sandwich, then back at Ray, and growled. Not treasuring the idea of losing his hand, Ray swiftly pulled the sandwich back. "Dief, come on! It's me! How many donuts have I snuck for you? How many times have I distracted Fraser so you could get human food?"
At the mention of his owner's name, Dief barked again, an annoyed, almost disgusted bark that Ray hadn't heard before.
"Man, that guy is in for the guilt trip of his life," The teenager laughed, securing Diefenbaker's crate to the interior of the plane. "I hope he packed some milk-bones, he's going to need them."
Forcing a laugh, Ray made his way to his seat, feeling distinctly unsettled. The wolf kept his gaze fixed on him like he couldn't trust Ray out of eyesight. A sneaking suspicion told Ray that Fraser had probably informed the wolf about their...discussion in front of the laundromat and that Diefenbaker wasn't actually angry with Fraser. Well, maybe a little chuffed about having to languish alone in quarantine, but not seriously upset. No, Ray suspected that Diefenbaker was angrier at him than anyone. Angry at him for breaking his owner's heart.
The plane ride itself was uneventful, as the pilot was not much of a conversationalist and there was nothing out the window to see. And not nothing like how there is nothing to see flying over the Midwest, like literally nothing. After the lights of Yellowknife faded in the distance, Ray could not see a single thing, above or below them. The stars were hidden under a blanket of inky clouds. It was like they had flown into the maw of a primordial beast. Ray could feel bologna sandwich churning in his stomach like it was considering a second appearance. The pilot, on the other hand, looks almost bored. How he was flying with nothing more than the occasional glance at the radar, Ray doesn't understand. How could you just hurtle yourself into the unknown like that? How, indeed. Ray thought dryly, not unaware that he was doing the same thing, physically and metaphorically.
"So why Inuvik?" The pilot asks suddenly, his voice gravelly and abrupt like he was regretting asking before the words ever left his mouth. The question startled Ray. Was this a good time to be honest? He knew Canada was generally more progressive than the United States, but he did not relish the fallout should the pilot take offence to the distinctly homosexual flare his answer would have. Fall-out. Ha, pun intended, since no one knew where he was the pilot could very easily push him out of the plane and no one would be the wiser. Except for Diefenbaker, who at the moment would probably snicker as he plummeted into the darkness.
"I'm using up my holiday time." Ray shrugged. It was the truth, in a manner of speaking.
The pilot huffed. "Not really a tourist hotspot. Maybe if you like the Northern Lights, but you can see those in Yellowknife."
Ray shrugged again and squinted out at the darkness.
"How far are we?"
The pilot glanced at his watch.
"Two hours, a little less. You should sleep. You look like shit."
Ray nodded, knowing it was too accurate for him to take offence.
"Wake me when we land?"
"Well, I'm sure as hell not taking you back with me."
Ray took that as a yes and curled up against the window, closing his eyes, even though he was well aware of the fact that sleep wouldn't come to him easily with the swirling anxiety inside him.
When the pilot shook Ray out of his partial doze they were taxing across the runway. Well, Ray assumed it was the runway, but it looked more like a skating rink. He was glad he hadn't had his eyes open for their landing.
"We're here," The pilot said unnecessarily and jabbed a finger at a squat brown building with two doors. Above one there was a sign that read "Arrivals/Arrivées" and above the other "Departures/Départs". "I assume you can handle yourself from here."
Ray nodded and scrambled out of his seat. "What about Dief?"
"What?"
"The dog."
The pilot shrugged. "I got him here. He's somebody else's responsibility now."
As the pilot hustled Ray out of the plane, he noticed a lady in a massive parka unloading Dief's crate, so he jogged over.
"Hi there," Ray said, attempting to pull his face into some sort of smile. "Are you in charge of him?"
The lady looked Ray up and down, her dark eyes assessing him. Ray was getting real tired of the people here doing that to him. Glancing at her clipboard, the lady sighed.
"For now, I suppose. It says that his owner or the RCMP detachment will come for him in the morning."
"Can I take him?"
"Excuse me?" The lady's eyebrows rose.
"I know the dog, I can take him with me," Ray explained. Frowning, the lady consulted her clipboard.
"You're Constable Benton Fraser?"
"No, but-"
"Are you from the RCMP?"
"No, but if you'll just let me ex-"
"I'm sorry sir, but I can only release an animal to its owner or to the contact I have listed here." She motioned to her clipboard.
Ray deflated. "You can't make an exception?"
She shook her head. "That's not how this works."
"Could I at least stay with him?"
"Pardon me?"
"He's going to have to stay at the airport overnight so someone will have to care for him, and I know him, it would be easier for everyone if I stayed." Ray glanced at Dief, who was listening keenly to the exchange, and half-whispered, "He can be a bit of a handful."
The lady peered into the crate at Diefenbaker, and Diefenbaker-bless him- growled helpfully.
"Alright, I don't see why not." The lady said, clearly not interested in dealing with sixty pounds of unhappy canine. "Follow me."
The lady led Ray into a room behind the airline desk that was a little dusty but had enough space for a wolf to comfortably pace, then unceremoniously unloaded the crate and went to the desk to make a phone call. A few moments later she returned, telling Ray that the local RCMP officer would be there to pick up Dief at nine tomorrow, then leaving as quickly as she came. Once she was out of earshot, Ray slumped down next to Dief's crate and slowly raised his hand to the latch.
"Alright buddy, I'm gonna let you out, don't attack me or anything. Let's just stay calm." He tried to enunciate clearly, hoping Dief would read his lips. Calm would not be an apt descriptor of what happened next, as Diefenbaker lunged at the crate door, curling his lips up to reveal his teeth and snapping wildly. Diefenbaker either didn't understand or deemed his distaste for Ray more important than leaving the cage. Ray suspected the latter and sighed.
"Oh come on Dief, what do you want from me? I'm here, aren't I? I came after you and your insane owner-"
Dief yipped.
"Don't give me that, you think he's insane too."
This time the noise Dief made sounded more like a begrudging huff of agreement.
"And yet here we both are," Ray continued. "In spite of it all. In spite of the fact that I'm going to have to sleep on the floor in an airport, and the fact that you had to stay in quarantine alone. Do you know why we're here, Dief? Cause even though Fraser is certifiable, we love him."
Dief quirked his ears up at this."Yeah, you heard me. We love him. You and me. And it's making me sick knowing that Fraser thinks the complete opposite, that I hate him and the cold and Canada- well the middle one may be true- but that's beside the point. I just..." Ray turned to look into Diefenbaker's crate and the half-wolf was staring out at him with a look that Ray would almost call concern.
"I just want him to know that I didn't mean to hurt him that night in the car. I was scared and that made me defensive, and when he wouldn't fight, when he made it sound like he had already made his decision and was just humouring me, it made me angry." Ray placed his head in his hands.
In response, Diefenbaker huffed, then clawed at the front of the crate.
"You ready to come out now?" Ray reached for the front of the cage, then paused. "You have to promise me you aren't going to rip my face off, Dief." Dief stared at him, then lifted his paw to the door again.
"Alright," Ray slowly undid the latch. "Just-"
He never finished as Diefenbaker rushed the door with the force of an NHL defenseman, knocking Ray off balance and blowing past him into the airport proper.
"Dief!"
Ray hauled himself back to his feet and scrambled after the wolf, swearing all the way. Ray caught up to Diefenbaker, who was obviously a wolf on a mission, just in time to see him barreling towards a man bundled in a parka and a ski mask. Holy shit, Ray thought and was just about to yell at Dief to stop, when the wolf leapt at the man.
"Hey! Look ou-" But Ray's call died when the man caught Dief, laughing as the wolf licked at the sliver of face exposed by his ski mask. And it was that laugh the made Ray's heart stop.
"Fraser?"
The man holding Dief froze and- yes that's definitely Fraser, Ray would recognize that almost inhuman stillness anywhere.
"Ray?"
The word left Fraser's mouth like a rush of air and suddenly he was unfrozen, setting Dief down on the linoleum and stepping towards Ray with his hands up like he wanted to touch Ray, to confirm his existence. But he stops, his hands hovering three inches away from Ray.
"What are you doing here?"
The words leave their mouths at the same time, but Fraser, as always, beats Ray to the apology.
"Sorry, go ahead."
"The lady Constable said you had left already," Ray says, and suddenly has a rush of hope, perhaps the Constable had managed to get Ray's 'come back to Inuvik' message to Fraser. Maybe Fraser had come back for him.
"I did," Fraser reaches one hand up to rub his eyebrow and seems surprised when his hand hits fabric instead of skin. As he sheepishly pulls off his ski mask he adds "I made it a third of the way before turning back for Diefenbaker. I realized I couldn't go without him."
Ray nods quickly and tries to quell the disappointment bubbling up inside him.
"You didn't know I would be here?"
"No, Ray I had no idea."
"Oh," Ray looks down at his feet, feeling immensely stupid for hoping for even a second that Fraser was here for him.
"You didn't-"
"I tried to ph-"
They stumble over each other's words, out of sync and awkward for the first time since they became partners. Ray hates it.
"Please, go ahead, Ray."
Ray coughs and considers his words. He wants to tell Fraser everything, wants him to understand how this rift, this tension between them is killing him, but he settles on simple instead.
"Frase, I'm sorry." Fraser, bless him, looks confused, so Ray soldiers on. "In the car, I was an asshole and-"
"No, Ray," Fraser's voice is firm. "You were right, it was selfish of me to ambush you with my transfer and I should never have-"
Ray's shaking his head.
"I got angry, I should have listened, I was being childi-"
"If anyone was being childish it was me, you didn't deserv-"
"The important thing is I'm sorry and you can hate me all you wan-"
"Hate you? Don't be ridiculous, I could ne-"
"But before you leave forever I need you to know tha-"
"Leave for-"
"Oh for the love of God, would you just shut up!? I'm trying to tell you I love you, you idiot!"
Fraser paused, his mouth half-open like a fish.
"I love you," Ray repeated, then swallowed hard. "I love you and I could never bring myself to actually hate you, and now that you know that, I'll get out of your life." Ray paused, waiting for Fraser to agree, to dismiss Ray, to do anything. And Fraser did do something, something Ray would never have seen coming if he re-lived this moment a thousand times.
Fraser started to laugh.
"What? What's so funny?" Ray asked as Fraser used his ski mask to wipe tears out of his eyes.
"We've both been so stupid."
"Excuse me?"
"I love you too. I've been miserable thinking you couldn't care less about me, and all along we've both been pining away, nearly six thousand kilometres apart, because we were both completely blind."
Ray huffed a little wet laugh and it felt like the weight had come off his chest.
"So what do we do now?"
Fraser smiled and closed the space between them.
"I think I know."
Now, most of the time Ray's life is nothing like a Hallmark movie. But that kiss?
It was cinematic.