The Supe -- Meg is just starting to shiver again when there's a hideous racket; it takes a moment for Fraser to focus on it enough to realize that it's a helicopter, landing in the snow about ten meters away from the cabin. "Is that -- ?" he asks
Meg nods. "Get in," she orders brusquely, lifting her bagsand doing so herself.
Fraser picks his bag up and turns -- and then he sees Ray's face in the window, eyes large dark pits in his otherwise pale face, watching the helicopter blow loose snow around it like some arctic hurricane. What will Ray do, all alone here? Even Dief will be lonely, but he'll at least have the other wolves to speak to. Ray will have no one -- and then Ray's eyes shift to look at him; he can't see Ray's eyes, of course, but he can feel them.
He turns his back to Ray and climbs into the helicopter, because he is a Mountie, and he can do such things.
The take off is relatively smooth; there is a thump, just as the helicopter starts to lift off the ground, but the pilot tells them it's metal fatigue, and nothing to worry about. And then the snow underneath them is fadng away into a textureless white blanket like clouds, Ray fading away with it.
Fraser closes his eyes and lets his neck go limp; Meg, good woman that she is, doesn't try to bother him.
~~~
They've been flying normally for about fifteen minutes when the helicopter tips alarmingly to the left, and then -- without any warning whatsoever -- the left side door is sliding open, blasting them all with sub-zero winds that stings like needles, pressing their eyes shut so they can't see anything at all --
Fraser presses himself close to the ground, to let the air blow over him him more than against him, and starts crawling towards the door --
-- and then suddenly, the blast stops. Fraser looks up reflexively, and blinks twice before trusting his eyes. "Ray!" he chokes, because that is Ray -- looking rather windblown and red-cheeked and thoroughly gleeful.
"Hey, yourself, buddy buddy," Ray replies, grinning down at him manically and sticking out a hand. "You need a hand there?"
"Kowalski?" Meg says, sounding befuddled.
"That's me," Ray assures her, hauling Fraser to his feet. "One and only. Okay, maybe not only, but -- "
"Oh my god, what -- "
"Hey!" the pilot hollers back, "what's going on in there? You okay?"
"Fine," Fraser assures him, staring stupidly at Ray. He suspects hes beaming at him, too, but then that's understandable.
"What do you mean, 'fine'?" Meg hisses furiously. "How are we going to send him back? We don't have time to turn around -- "
"Uh-huh," Ray says smugly. "Thought you wouldn't."
"Just -- all right. All right, well -- we'll tell someone to drop him off at the nearest city," Meg mutters, "when we reach the plane -- "
"Plane?" Ray repeats, looking even more pleased. "Hey, planes, no problem, I'll jump on those. I've even got practice with 'em." He winks at Fraser, and even though his cheek is really quite alarming, Fraser can't help but absorb his cheer. "Proper Preparation Prevents Poor Performance, right?"
Meg is in a truly pitiable state. "But -- but -- we -- "
"Hey, it's okay," Ray tells her, patting her shoulder condescendingly. "You just tell us where we're headed, 'cause I am on you like wolves on caribou, yeah?"
"I -- I can't," Meg protests, looking rather out of her depth. Under any other circumstances, Fraser'd reprimand Ray for being such a bother -- but just now, he can't bring himself to do it. "It's classified."
'Iran," Fraser inroms Ray, placidly. "We're going to Iran."
Ray gapes at him. "Iran?"
Thatcher's jaw drops. "Fraser!" she sputters.
Fraser just smiles at them both, ready to -- well, ready to face the music, with Ray at his side.
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9/2/06 05:50 (UTC)Meg nods. "Get in," she orders brusquely, lifting her bagsand doing so herself.
Fraser picks his bag up and turns -- and then he sees Ray's face in the window, eyes large dark pits in his otherwise pale face, watching the helicopter blow loose snow around it like some arctic hurricane. What will Ray do, all alone here? Even Dief will be lonely, but he'll at least have the other wolves to speak to. Ray will have no one -- and then Ray's eyes shift to look at him; he can't see Ray's eyes, of course, but he can feel them.
He turns his back to Ray and climbs into the helicopter, because he is a Mountie, and he can do such things.
The take off is relatively smooth; there is a thump, just as the helicopter starts to lift off the ground, but the pilot tells them it's metal fatigue, and nothing to worry about. And then the snow underneath them is fadng away into a textureless white blanket like clouds, Ray fading away with it.
Fraser closes his eyes and lets his neck go limp; Meg, good woman that she is, doesn't try to bother him.
~~~
They've been flying normally for about fifteen minutes when the helicopter tips alarmingly to the left, and then -- without any warning whatsoever -- the left side door is sliding open, blasting them all with sub-zero winds that stings like needles, pressing their eyes shut so they can't see anything at all --
Fraser presses himself close to the ground, to let the air blow over him him more than against him, and starts crawling towards the door --
-- and then suddenly, the blast stops. Fraser looks up reflexively, and blinks twice before trusting his eyes. "Ray!" he chokes, because that is Ray -- looking rather windblown and red-cheeked and thoroughly gleeful.
"Hey, yourself, buddy buddy," Ray replies, grinning down at him manically and sticking out a hand. "You need a hand there?"
"Kowalski?" Meg says, sounding befuddled.
"That's me," Ray assures her, hauling Fraser to his feet. "One and only. Okay, maybe not only, but -- "
"Oh my god, what -- "
"Hey!" the pilot hollers back, "what's going on in there? You okay?"
"Fine," Fraser assures him, staring stupidly at Ray. He suspects hes beaming at him, too, but then that's understandable.
"What do you mean, 'fine'?" Meg hisses furiously. "How are we going to send him back? We don't have time to turn around -- "
"Uh-huh," Ray says smugly. "Thought you wouldn't."
"Just -- all right. All right, well -- we'll tell someone to drop him off at the nearest city," Meg mutters, "when we reach the plane -- "
"Plane?" Ray repeats, looking even more pleased. "Hey, planes, no problem, I'll jump on those. I've even got practice with 'em." He winks at Fraser, and even though his cheek is really quite alarming, Fraser can't help but absorb his cheer. "Proper Preparation Prevents Poor Performance, right?"
Meg is in a truly pitiable state. "But -- but -- we -- "
"Hey, it's okay," Ray tells her, patting her shoulder condescendingly. "You just tell us where we're headed, 'cause I am on you like wolves on caribou, yeah?"
"I -- I can't," Meg protests, looking rather out of her depth. Under any other circumstances, Fraser'd reprimand Ray for being such a bother -- but just now, he can't bring himself to do it. "It's classified."
'Iran," Fraser inroms Ray, placidly. "We're going to Iran."
Ray gapes at him. "Iran?"
Thatcher's jaw drops. "Fraser!" she sputters.
Fraser just smiles at them both, ready to -- well, ready to face the music, with Ray at his side.