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Fraser sat with Maggie whilst her grandchildren (and just how had that happened so quickly?) played outside in the snow. Or rather, whilst Jenny and little Ben played in the snow and Martin sat sullenly on the porch with his book.
Maggie was looking through an old photo album and Fraser's eye was caught by one of their Dad in full dress uniform.
“We did . . .” he trailed off, unable to put a voice to his ridiculous fears.
“Benton?” Maggie asked.
“Nothing. Just me being foolish.”
“I'll decide that,” Maggie said, staring at him in a way that clearly said she could wait all night if necessary.
Fraser sighed, “It's just- We did see him, didn't we?” he asked, looking down at the photo again.
Maggie smiled sadly and entwined her fingers with his, her skin feeling dry and paper thin, his hands swollen and stiff.
“We did,” she said softly.
Fraser closed his eyes in relief. After so many years it was sometimes easy to believe he was going crazy and imagined it all, or had perhaps gone crazy many years ago.
“What makes you ask?”
“He never- I don't see” Fraser's voice cracked with emotion and he stopped and looked out of the window.
“I would have thought Ray would be at peace.”
“I'm just a selfish old man. Wanting him back.”
Maggie gave his hand a squeeze and the door burst open, the three kids running in. All were complaining loudly about the other two and little Ben was sniffling and saying they had destroyed his snow man.
“You forgot grumpy,” Maggie said, and they shared a smile before she got up to see to the kids. Through the open door Fraser thought he saw a glimpse of the bright eyes and laughing grin of a half-wolf before the door shut. He craned his neck, trying to see out of the window. But there was nothing there. He would have got up to have a look but was interrupted by little Ben coming over and trying to crawl onto his lap.
“Ben!” Maggie said. “You're too old for that.”
“He's alright,” Fraser said with a smile. “I don't mind.”
Ben wriggled, accidentally elbowing Fraser in the stomach before finally settling with Fraser's arm around him.
“Did you have a good time outside?” Fraser asked.
“No. Jenny and Martin ganged up on me,” Ben pouted.
“That doesn't sound like fair play,” Fraser agreed.
“UNCLE BEN'S ON MY SIDE!” Ben announced at the top his voice.
“No need to shout,” Fraser said, his ears ringing a little.
“Sorry.”
“That's okay. You didn't see any er, dogs out there did you?” Fraser asked, not quite able to bring himself to say the word wolf.
“Nope. Now tell me a story,” Ben demanded.
“What sort of story?” Fraser sighed.
“One with no snow.”
Fraser laughed. “No snow. How about water?”
“Water's alright.”
“Well, then I'll tell you a story about Pirates, lost gold and a submarine.”
* * * * *
Fraser was seeing Diefenbaker more and more these days.
Most often he would sit in the corner of the room, a wolfish grin on his face, ignoring Fraser's commands as always. The rest of the room looked a little fuzzy and uncertain but Dief always stood out clearly, almost shining from within. His fur looked healthy and well brushed, his eyes sparkled. Sometimes he looked almost puppyish and Fraser wondered if this meant that ghosts got to choose at what age they appeared. He hoped so, he had no desire to spend the rest of eternity the age he was now. Being old and infirm, with creaking joints and bad eyesight was not much fun.
Sometimes Fraser wished he had died on duty, whilst doing something stupid and reckless as Ray often said he would, rather than grow old in this way. But then, Ray would have been left alone, and Fraser couldn't bear the thought of that. Of Ray alone and lonely. At least this way Fraser had been with him to the very end, and he himself was used to being alone.
It was just that sometimes, the nights seemed so very long and the bed so very empty and cold.
Fraser told himself that he was luckier than many people. He had happy memories to look back on. Good times and good friends to remember, and of course there was Maggie and Ray Vecchio – who would phone him without fail every Sunday evening. They would reminisce about old times, and Ray would tell him how everyone was. Ray was now a great Uncle and Fraser loved to hear about Francesca and her children. It made a change from hearing who at the old 27 had died now. About once a month Ray would try and talk Fraser into coming down to see everyone and this invitation would turn into Ray asking if Fraser was okay up there all alone? If Fraser didn't want to live with Maggie and her family did he want to come and stay with him?
Fraser would thank him kindly for thinking of him and make some excuse to end the phone call. He could never leave the cabin he had shared with Ray. How would he manage if he wasn't able to sit in Ray's favourite chair and pretend his scent still clung to it? How would he get to sleep if it wasn't in the bed they had shared together? Why would he want to get up in a morning if it wasn't to see Ray's coffee mug sat next to his tea cup in the cupboard?
Just the thought of leaving all his memories behind caused him pain.
As much as he loved Ray Vecchio – and it was worth more than Fraser could say to still have Ray call him Benny and hear the smile in his voice – he could never leave the home he and Ray had built together.
Fraser knew Maggie and her kids also worried about him. He knew Maggie had set up a rota so that he would have a visitor every day. He did appreciate the thought, even if it did make him feel a little like a helpless old man who couldn't be trusted to live on his own. Anyway, he wasn't even alone – as he seemed to have to constantly remind everyone, he did have Franklin. He was only a dog. He was no Diefenbaker, Fraser thought to himself guiltily, not wanting to disparage Franklin, but the fact was undeniable. But all the same, he was a faithful companion, loyal and obedient.
As if thinking about Dief had summoned him, Fraser became aware of a slight sinking of one side of the bed, of a nudge of his hand. He turned his head with a slight groan at the stiffness in his neck and Dief was there, his head resting on the edge of the bed, his nose just nudging Fraser's hand. Dief was looking at Fraser with an expression he couldn't quite fathom. The half-wolf's eyes seemed so sad, so sorrowful, but his tail was beating steadily against the rag rug.
Fraser tentatively moved his hand to stroke this ghost Diefenbaker, not wanting to scare him away again, but unable to resist trying. His fur was as soft as ever, and Fraser felt tears spring to his eyes.
“Hello, old friend,” he said softly, hearing his voice catch.
Diefenbaker tilted his head to one side quizzically.
“What do you mean 'who am I calling old?' That's hardly a nice way to greet someone you haven't seen for so long.”
Diefenbaker woofed softly and stood up. Fraser's hand slipped away from the half-wolf's head and he sat slowly up in bed, his back protesting loudly at the movement.
“No, please don't go yet.”
Diefenbaker woofed at Fraser again, louder this time, and pushed the bedroom door open with his nose.
“Follow? What do you mean, follow? It's the middle of the night Dief.”
Fraser got up slowly and put his dressing gown and slippers on before following Dief out of the bedroom. He slowly pushed open the door and fumbled for the light switch to the living room. He finally flicked on the switch to see Franklin hiding under the kitchen table and Diefenbaker standing next to a man who had one hand on the door handle, caught in the act of breaking and entering.
“Who-”
The man turned his head and Fraser saw that his hair was light blonde and sticking straight up from his head.
The man grinned almost as wolfishly as Diefenbaker and turned the door handle, a silver bracelet catching the light as he turned his wrist. The tall, rather skinny man opened the door and shivered as the cold air hit him, stamping his heavy boots against the wooden floor. Diefenbaker ran out, bounding playfully through the snow.
“No! Don't go!”
The man gave one last glance over his shoulder and left, the door banging closed behind him.
Fraser made for the door faster than he had in many years, forgetting the walking stick that leant beside it. He opened the door to see the man crossing the yard quickly, leaving a path through the snow that Fraser followed.
If he could just catch him up.
“Stop!”
The man glanced once over his shoulder and then looked ahead at something. Fraser followed his gaze and noticed that Diefenbaker had stopped and was sitting in the snow, waiting for them.
Fraser gave silent thanks for the fact that he seemed to feel fitter than he had in years, and rushed to catch up.
“Ray.” Fraser stumbled forwards and hugged him tightly, tears springing to his eyes. “Why didn't you come before? I missed you.”
"I'm sorry Ben, I couldn't. I didn't have any unfinished business."
"But you have some now?" Fraser said, confused
"No."
Then Fraser realised. He had died.
“Oh. I didn't feel anything.”
“You just fell asleep.”
There was a sled packed for travelling and with a dog team already hooked up.
"I thought we could go on one last adventure, Frase," Ray said.
Fraser smiled at him and leaned forwards to share a kiss.