Work Text:
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Fraser hears the scream all the way across town.
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Diefenbaker puts his nose to the sky and howls – long and mournful, the sound accentuated by the rain and thunder and carried deep into the city by the Lake’s winds.
Chicago was frozen, holding its breath.
Waiting.
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The man who kills Ray is found strung up in front of the station – his throat slashed and most of his skin flayed off.
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Fraser hears the scream and he takes off at a run and he doesn’t stop until he’s holding Ray in his arms – Ray whose dead eyes are staring up at the sun.
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There are so many scents in the city – there’s so much noise. But Fraser is from the wild, and he knows how to focus on the hunt.
He’s been cooped up for so long – dressed in red and pretending to be civilized, playing at being domesticated. But, when Ray’s blood floods the streets, those chains of civilization – light as they may be – fall loose and he turns to Diefenbaker and says only, “Let’s go.”
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There are so many scents in the city – but only one that matters.
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Fraser laughs and smiles and seduces the man into the alley.
“Show me a good time?” he asks, pressing himself close to the other man – Clark Bernadi, a forty-something mobster with a .22 in his pocket and Ray's blood on his hands – as he puts his nose into his neck and inhales deep.
The scents are the same.
Clark’s eyes are rolling into the back of his head as Fraser nips at his throat, thrusts his hips forward.
“Anything you want,” Clark says, pulling Fraser closer.
Fraser nips again, asks, “Anything?”
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“Let me go!” Clark screams, pulling against the rope; his wrists were raw and bleeding from the struggle.
“Did you think you were in control?” Fraser asks, wiping blood off his face with the hand not holding the knife. He surges forward then and screams: “Did you really think you were in control?!”
Diefenbaker snarls in the corner and Clark tries to beg for mercy.
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Fraser hears the screams all the way across town when they find Clark and he laughs as Diefenbaker puts his bloodied muzzle to the sky and howls.
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End.