ds writing! only, depressing like. oops

[schmerica]

Hmm, so I think I've got *that* out of my system now, at least. Um, hopefully.

*****

I wake up before the alarm can sound -- little surprise, as it has become something of a habit for me these days. I wash briefly in the bathroom and then dress in my uniform.

"Jesus, don't they have snooze bars in Canada?" Ray said, his voice filled with a groggy annoyance. He pulled away from me where our bodies had settled in the night, turning over to his stomach to bury his head beneath a pillow as I began to untangle myself from our bed sheets.

In the kitchen, I put a kettle on for tea, and then open the freezer to decide what to defrost for supper tonight. I narrow it down to a container labeled "Mrs. Warner, vegetarian chili" and another called "Mrs. Prescott, hamburger noodle casserole." Diefenbaker has in the past expressed a marked disdain toward vegetarian cuisine. While I don't wish to encourage his snobbishness, I'm not sure I'm quite in the mood to face his complaints tonight, either. Hamburger noodle it is.

Ray was shoveling the food in eagerly, greedily, barely swallowing between each bite. "This is so good. I didn't know food could taste this good."

I felt much the same way; after weeks on the trail, out on our adventures, the simplest things tasted marvelous, astonishing and new. "I would guess it's simply a matter of--"

Ray waved his spoon at me, cutting me off as he shook his head. "It doesn't matter *why* it's good, Fraser. It just matters that it's good."

Dief and I eat breakfast together in silence -- oatmeal for me, yesterday's leftovers for him. Dief seems in a thoughtful mood, but when I ask him what's on his mind, he doesn't answer. Likely it's something along the lines of the Donaghues' new bitch; he's seemed excited to be sniffing around her since we got back.

Or perhaps it's something more serious. I have been known to underestimate him in the past. Dief's depths of feeling can take one by surprise on occasion.

"Yo, Fraser," Ray called as he closed the front door. Dief trotted into the kitchen immediately, Ray following close behind him.

"How was your walk?" I asked Diefenbaker, but he merely gave a noncommittal answer and then turned to Ray with an odd gaze.

Ray was pouring himself a drink of water. He took a long swallow, then said, "So I'm thinking maybe we should get some check-ups soon, head to the doctors'."

He didn't look at me as he said it, and I thought to myself, you hate doctors.

"Any particular reason?" I said.

Ray shrugged. "Nah. Just, you know. Checking up."

"All right," I said. "I'll make appointments in the morning."

It's a nice day out, brisk but pleasant, and I decide Dief and I will walk to work instead of driving. Dief grumbles slightly at this, but his mood improves significantly as our path brings him across interesting smells to appreciate.

The many admirers we come across don't seem to hurt his state of mind, either; it seems as though half of the town's young women and all of the older ones are out this morning, and each seems to have a loving compliment to give to Dief, along with the sympathetic comments they give me. I thank them all kindly, and I am very grateful for their intentions, but it's still slightly suffocating. It comes as a small relief when we reach the building and can slip inside.

We drove past the outpost on our way home -- we hadn't said a word yet, the entire way. I was driving for once, and Ray sat slumped in the passenger seat, staring out the window.

"I don't want to die here," Ray said, finally, just a few blocks from our home.

I swallowed thickly. I didn't look over at him as I said, "Dr. Maguire said the recovery rates--"

"I *know* what she said, Fraser, I was there, too," Ray said. His voice wasn't angry, but closer to ... resigned. "And I'm telling you, I don't want it to happen here. I wanna go home."

I parked in front of our home and said nothing for a long moment. I said, "All right," and Ray let out a long breath, and the next week we returned to Chicago.

It is a slow day, but I have more than enough work to do, paperwork that piled up high during my leave time. Laurie, our assistant, brings me tea after a while, and sits on the edge of my desk to talk. She's a thoughtful young woman, and I appreciate both her kindness and discretion as our conversation goes on. When she leaves, Dief follows her back toward her desk, and I am left alone.

I work diligently on my files for as long as I can before I raise my head again.

I do not see him anywhere, but I say softly, "I could use your help."

He doesn't respond. He hasn't yet, but I haven't given up hope. There is room in my life for another ghost.

Comments

[brooklinegirl.livejournal.com]

::whimper::

Um. Yeah. Out of your system, yes? Please? It wouldn't be quite so upsetting if it wasn't so damn well written. Hell. Now I'm even more depressed.

[foreverdirt.livejournal.com]

Ouch. Gorgeous style and a perfectly timed slow reveal. And did I mention the ouch?

[lamardeuse.livejournal.com]

Oh, dear.

Please write something happy. Now.

Cripes, that was *good*.

[the-star-fish.livejournal.com]

Awwww, shit. Now I gotta find the Kleenex.

(Really beautiful job, hon. Fraser still managing to find hope ... awww. Dammit.)

[lynnmonster.livejournal.com]

Oh, lovely! (Also, you know, sad, but only in a loving kind of way.)


[I only have one complaint: you *obviously* weren't paying proper attention to the pointing fic-finger of fate in chat!]

prods you mercilessly for crackbrained Billy/RayK fic

[dsudis.livejournal.com]

Okay, now I'm sitting at work all choked up and, ohgod, so good and so depressing.

Now. Billy/RayK, if you please.

[estrella30.livejournal.com]

:glares at pearl:

Ok. That was beautiful and sad and I'm all sniffly and now you have to write me some hot, sweaty, dirty sex to make up for it. Have to, have to, have to.

Sigh. Beautiful job, babe.

[lyra-sena.livejournal.com]

*whimpers* I...I read it anyway. I couldn't help it. I knew it would be gorgeous and amazing and it so is!! You've totally broken me in the most glorious way! The casseroles being labeled with the women's names, the way you've done the flashbacks with Ray, Fraser's resignation and sadness...*gives up and falls down sobbing*

It's wonderful, and oddly, I don't hate you. *wink* I just need to go read With Six You Get Eggroll so I can stop sobbing.

But seriously, Erica. It's out now? All out? Cause I don't know if my heart can handle more of this.

[metal-dog5.livejournal.com]

*reads*
*re-reads*
*reads again*

Wonderful, yet heartbreaking. I adore your use of flashbacks.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

*checks chat notes*

Okay, see, I think I figured out where we went wrong! Everytime you guys were saying "Make him have sex with Billy Tallent!" I seem to have accidentally written down "KILL HIM OFF! Mwahahahaha!"

Obviously we just got off on the wrong foot. *g*

[lifeinwords.livejournal.com]

Oh, god. Pain pain pain. It's really lovely, though--subtle, layered, and I love the contrasts between Fraser's mental voice in the present and Ray's in the flashbacks. *weeps for the poor, poor boys*

[digitalwave]

This was so beautiful. I'm sitting quietly over here in the corner crying but hey. Thanks so much for sharing this.

[tobyfan.livejournal.com]

Awww. Heartbreaking and touching. Beautifully done. *sniff*

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Eep, no! Depression = bad! Um. Doesn't looking at your pretty icon make you feel better?

*pets*

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Oh, thank you! I'm always a little uncertain about my style in these sorts of stories -- where it's not really a surprise "gotcha" type thing, but there still has to be building up to a *point* somewhere. So, yes. I'm glad it worked for you!

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Um. Something happy? *g* I don't know if I have any of them lying around...

Thank you!

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Hee! I'm glad you liked it, my dear.

(I don't know if I'm just particularly heartless today, but the more I think about the end the more it amuses me. He probably can't help going around checking all the time! Aww.)

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

*pets*

Now. Billy/RayK, if you please.

You know, it really is cruel of all of you to try to take advantage of my crappy network and resulting random disorientation like this. You're, like, scavengers. *g*

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Thank you, honey!

And ... do I get to kill people off in the hot, sweaty, dirty sex?

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Oh, honey, I gave you a cut tag and everything!

But anything that leads to rereading Speranza fic has its good points. Mmm, yummy palate cleansers.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much!

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much -- I'm glad it worked for you. Even if, um, massive pain resulted.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much!

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[dsudis.livejournal.com]

Hey, I'll do just about anything (short of, um, writing it my own damn self, considering the plottiness involved in my version) to get me some Callum/Callum slash. It's twice the pretty! It makes people's eyes cross!

Come on, I'll help. It's the early 80s. Ray is in his punk phase and/or on the outs with Stella. HCL comes to Chicago (or Winnipeg, if you feel like stranding Ray in a strange town). Ray goes to see them, and is shocked by his resemblance to Billy. They drink, they smoke, they get matching tattoos and have sex in an alley with badly-taped bandages on their arms. If you can find a way to work in handcuffs (maybe they hold each other's arms/wrists in place while getting the tats?) brooklinegirl will probably get on a plane to come and lick you in person. Or maybe that's me. Hard to say.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

*blinks* Huh. Wow. That sounds ... really yummy, actually.

You should so get someone to write that!

But, um. Someone who is not me because, frankly, I don't see myself as ever being able to write HCL.

[the-star-fish.livejournal.com]

theirloveissoincorporeal!

[jic]

Ray was pouring himself a drink of water. He took a long swallow, then said, "So I'm thinking maybe we should get some check-ups soon, head to the doctors'."

He didn't look at me as he said it, and I thought to myself, you hate doctors.

Felt like whimpering from there on out.

Excellent job interleaving the present and past - that isn't often done so well.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much! I was kind of experimenting around a lot, and I'm glad it worked for you.

[celli]

He doesn't respond. He hasn't yet, but I haven't given up hope. There is room in my life for another ghost.

*heart breaks*

Oh, Erica.

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

...Yes, my dear?

*innocent smile*

[uselessplayback.livejournal.com]

Oh my god! That last line. That last sentence. The entire fic! Clearly I can't be coherent right now but, um, wow.

I was strong until that last line. Really. *sniff*

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

*g* Thank you so much!