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First Day of my Life
for Ximeria
Author's Notes: Inspiration for this fic is from "The First Day of My Life" by Bright Eyes, specifically the video. Go to You Tube when you're done here and find it. You'll be glad you did.
Also, I am not Paul Gross or Paul Haggis nor am I worthy to play with their characters. I do it anyway, for no money, with love.
Any and all mistakes belong to me.
So if you wanna be with me
With these things there's no telling
We'll just have to wait and see
But I'd rather be working for a paycheck
Than waiting to win the lottery
--Conor Oberst
It's almost the end of April before we finally head back to the cabin. Well, Fraser's going back. I'm not going back, exactly because I've never been there in the first place. It's okay, though. Going forward's even better.
I think Fraser would probably have stayed on the trail for another month. Maybe longer, if the ice held. I'm not so sure about the dogs, though. They seem pretty glad to be headed home. The second they noticed we were headed toward Frobisher's place they started barking and straining at their harnesses. And I totally get that, because after a month and a half of sleeping in a tent the size of a porta-potty I'm all about having a roof over my head again.
I figured that Fraser might be be a little down now that the trip's over, so I've been keeping an eye out for it. He's been a little quieter, but that could just be that there's not so much to talk about now. Out there you have to know your compass heading, the weather forecast, the level of the terrain up ahead, how fresh the dogs are. A million things like that to talk about, and that's not even counting all of Fraser's stories about local legends and the science of the Northern Lights and how Franklin and his crew might have survived if they'd only listened to the Inuit instead of thinking they had to dress fancy and eat on lead-glazed china like proper Englishmen. Fraser's stories got longer out on the ice. Bigger, in a way, like how the sky is bigger here than it is in Chicago, as if more space meant it was okay to use more words. Sometimes one story seemed to last for an hour. I listened better, too. Probably because Fraser was telling them for the fun of it instead of always trying to prove a point.
Anyway, all that stuff's done now and all there is to talk about is packing up and getting back to real life. For me, anyway. Fraser doesn't have to because he's already here. He's been living it from the second we set off.
I mean, think about it. The Yukon's real for Fraser in a way that Chicago never was, could never be. Those hundred thousand things he knows, all those facts and figures and techniques that seemed weird and unreal in the middle of the city? They're what kept us alive for the last six weeks. Tracking and trapping and telling time by the stars, Fraser does all that like breathing, and he loves every second of it. I can't let him go back to Chicago. He needs to be here where he can be real again. Live his life like it's his life and not just some alternate universe he fell into when his Dad got killed.
Me, I don't know what real life is. I don't think I ever really had one. Things felt real for a while when I was married, but in the end it turned out I was imagining things. The weird thing is, the realest my life has ever felt was when I was undercover as Vecchio. Until Fraser and I had our adventure, that is, but that's not real life, so it doesn't count. I used to not mind living my freaky not-real life, but now I'm not so sure. Anyway, I don't want to talk about it because Fraser would find a way to make it his fault. We've had a great time, both of us, and I don't want to spoil it by helping Fraser pack for one of his self-guided guilt trips.
We get to Frobisher's place just before sunset. The dogs catch sight of him outside his barn. I get their gear off and bam, they're all over him, barking and having a welcome-home party already. I'm really gonna miss those guys. Definitely have to visit 'em again sometime, maybe go on another adventure. Fraser'd like that.
Frobisher helps us get the dogs fed and bedded down in the barn (even Diefenbaker, go figure. I guess he wanted to hang out with his buds for one more night), then we go back to his place and have the best stew I've ever eaten. Meat, potatoes, carrots, onions. Simple, maybe, but it tastes like heaven. Fraser says he thinks Frobisher's finally learned his lesson about eating too many fancy foods. I'm pretty glad about that, 'cause otherwise I'd be sacking out in the barn with the dogs.
As it turns out, Frobisher's place is bigger than I thought it would be. He's even got a spare bedroom, so we end up bunking in there. And by bunking I mean honest-to-goodness double-decker bunk beds, like back when I used to stay overnight with Tommy Budek and we'd make ninja forts by hanging sheets from the top bunk. It was pretty neat even without the ninja forts, although at this point the beds could have been hammocks, Gilligan's Island -style, and I'd be cool with it as long as it was inside an actual building.
I clamber up onto the top bunk in my jeans and sweatshirt. I'll shower tomorrow before we leave, but for now I just want to sleep in an actual bed. Fraser doesn't change either, just says "Sweet dreams, Ray", and slides into bed. Definitely not normal for Fraser. Usually he wants to kick back and decompress, talk about the day. Maybe he is a little depressed after all.
Right before I drift off I hear him start to say something, but I'm too far gone to ask him to repeat himself.
It's past noon before we're showered and fed and done saying so long to Frobisher and the dogs. Frobisher's loaned us an SUV. He says he'll pick it up in a week or so. Fraser doesn't seem like he's in a hurry, but he's got the thing loaded with the last bunch of our gear before one o'clock. He gives me this look I've never seen before, and I thought I knew all of Fraser's looks. Anyway, before I get to ask him about it, Dief's jumping in the car and we're on our way, the three of us.
"Fraser."
"Yes, Ray?" Those are the first words he's said in an hour. I don't really have anything to ask, but I can't deal with Silent Fraser for another second. I grab for the first question in my head.
"Last night you were saying something but I was too zonked to process. What was it?."
He doesn't answer right away, then he says, "Perhaps you were dreaming, Ray," and goes back to staring out the window. And okay, that one was right out of the Benton Fraser Handbook of Tried-and-True Diversional Tactics : When asked a question that makes you uncomfortable, reply with something that manages to not only sound like a real answer but also causes the questioner to doubt himself (or herself-- Fraser's an equal-opportunity bullshitter). I know how Fraser operates because because I know Fraser, which means I've read that book about a billion times, and there's no way I'm letting him get away with giving me the runaround.
"I don't think so, Fraser. I wasn't asleep yet. You definitely said something."
He doesn't turn from the window. "What is it that you think I said, Ray?"
I feel a little like shaking him. Strike that, I feel a lot like shaking him. "Fraser, if I knew that, I wouldn't be asking you.
"Asking me what, Ray?"
I practically have to bite my tongue to keep from yelling at him for being so annoying. It might make me feel better (yelling, not biting my tongue), but it would just end up pushing Fraser further into Weirdville. Not to mention I might crack up the car and wouldn't that be a great end to the trip. I try another angle.
"Frase? You okay?" Because it's obvious he's not. It looks like he's really getting the post-adventure letdown. Suddenly I don't feel like yelling anymore.
My new angle seems to be working because Fraser finally turns from the fascinating snow scene. He's not really looking at me, though, and he's got that little furrow between his eyes that he gets when he's thinking really hard about something, so I focus on the road and let I him think. Usually when that furrow shows up the best option is to sit back and let the gears in Fraser's head whirl around for awhile.
After about a million hours he finally answers, slow, like he's still thinking. "I'm fine, Ray. I've honestly never been better."
No sale, Fraser.
I pull the car over and park it. I need both hands and I need to look at him.
"You say that like it's true, but I'm not buying it. You don't clam up for no reason, Fraser. Something's going on in that head of yours."
I poke him in the shoulder a couple of times to illustrate my point. See, this is why I can't talk and drive. "I'm right and I know I'm right because I know you."
"That you do, Ray," he says, looking at me for the first time since we left Frobisher's. He's even smiling, a little. "I should know better than to keep anything from you".
"Damn right you should." I'm trying to be serious here, but Fraser's expression must be contagious because I can't keep from smiling a little myself.
He looks a lot more relaxed now, so I figure maybe he just needs to unload. Decompress, like I said. Except for the fact that he's not doing it. He's not tense anymore but he isn't talking, either.
"So, Fraser. Are you gonna tell me what it is or is there some secret password I have to know first?" I'm pretty sure I don't sound annoyed.
"Ray, I'm sorry I seem so secretive. I'm not trying to keep my thoughts from you, it's just that I--"
"Just that you what, Fraser?" Okay, now I sound annoyed, but can you blame me?
"I need you to be patient." He stops, takes a deep breath, lets it out.
"I realise I've been caught up in my own thoughts since the official end of our adventure. To be completely honest, Ray, my preoccupation began well before then, but given the focus necessary for survival in the Arctic wilderness, dwelling on thoughts and ideas that had little to do with the situation at hand would have imprudent, to say the least. It's only now that our situation is relatively less immediate that I've allowed myself to consider some...important issues."
I've known Fraser for quite a while so it only takes a couple of seconds to translate what he's saying from Canadian. I'm pretty proud of that, actually.
"Patient, okay. I can do patient." He raises an eyebrow at me like he's not sure he believes me, but he doesn't argue the point.
"If you can wait until we reach the cabin and settle in, I promise to discuss everything with you. But not here, Ray."
Now I know what he's been thinking about. He wants to stay in Canada, and he's trying to figure out how to tell me. It's the best thing for him, like I said. And he's right, a freezing car isn't the place for deep stuff like that and anyway, I can wait to hear that I'm going to be heading back to Chicago by myself no matter how good it is for Fraser.
"Not a problem, buddy, I can do that," I say. "Just quit the silent routine, okay, because I'm starting to get a complex. Even the wolf's been quiet."
"Diefenbaker informs me that he slept poorly last night. Apparently Sergeant Frobisher's dogs were quite lengthy in offering their farewell wishes."
"I don't even want to know, Fraser."
"To tell you the truth, Ray, neither do I." And just like that, we're back to normal. I start the car up and we head back down the road, talking about dogsleds and igloos and five hundred ways to skin a caribou. I'm not thinking about what Fraser's probably gonna tell me or why I'm dreading hearing him say it.
It's not quite sunset when we pull up in front of the cabin, but by the time we've cleared a path to the door and gathered enough wood to last us the night it's full-on dark. Fraser fires up the wood stove as soon as we get inside while I light every lantern I can find (translation: three). Dief heads straight for a tall cabinet standing in one corner and starts nosing around it.
I look over at Fraser. "Ten to one that's where the food is, right?"
Fraser closes the stove door and stands up. "Diefenbaker was here last when the cabin was being rebuilt. The food at the time was plentiful enough to suit the needs of an entire building crew. At the moment the cabinet contains mostly canned goods, none of which are particularly appetizing. I'm afraid he's in for a disappointment."
"Nah, Dief's not picky. A can of soup'll keep him happy."
"You may be right, Ray; still, it won't surprise me if he pouts about it anyway."
The cabin's bigger than I thought it would be but it's still basically one room, so it starts to warm up pretty fast. I pull off my jacket and hang it on a coat hook next to Fraser's. He's moved to the overstuffed sofa opposite the stove, so I go over and sit next to him. I lean my head back and close my eyes for a minute. The wind's picked up a some, I can hear it a little outside the windows. I can still see the lantern light with my eyes closed, all flickery-like. It's peaceful here, a guy could get used to a place like this.
I don't even realise I've drifted off until I'm nudged awake by a wet wolf nose pushing at my hand. When I open my eyes Dief is looking at me expectantly. I sit up and see two bowls full of something steaming, and another on the floor. The wolf must have been warned to wait until I woke up before he started eating, because he keeps looking from me to the bowl and back again. Next to the two bowls on the table are two bottles that look suspiciously like beer. I look over at Fraser. He's looking pretty pleased with himself.
"How long have I been sleeping? What's in the bowls? And where the hell did you get beer, Fraser?"
"Forty-seven minutes, chicken noodle soup, and Sergeant Frobisher. Apparently his nephew is an amateur brewer who has gained quite a reputation throughout the Territories. Naturally, I feel compelled to sample some myself since it was so generously offered."
I pick my bottle up and take a cautious sip. Then I take a long pull because damn, this stuff is good.
"Remind me to thank Frobisher next time I see him." As soon as I say that I remember how I'll be going back to Chicago soon and it'll be a long time before I see Frobisher again. If ever, because he's not exactly a young guy.
"I'll do that, Ray," says Fraser, and now he's all serious, like I've just asked him to do something important. He's got that weird look on his face again.
"So, Fraser. Are we settled in?" I do NOT want to do this, but we might as well get it over with.
"Yes, Ray, I would say we are."
"So now would be a good time for you to talk about whatever you said you were going to?"
"I suppose there's no time like the present." He's lapsing into clichs, so he must be at least a little nervous. He doesn't look it, though. I probably do.
He takes a small sip of his beer. Ale. Whatever. I slug down about a third of mine. I hope Frobisher gave him more than two bottles because this stuff is too good to be gulped down without tasting it.
"Right. So go ahead. What is it, Fraser?" I wish there was a label on the bottle so I could peel it off and give my fingers something to do besides twitch.
"Well." he says. Off to a good start, there, Fraser.
"Well. I've been doing some thinking recently. A lot of thinking, actually. When I was in the mine shaft, something happened." He pauses, drags his tongue over his lower lip. I follow it because hey, it's something to do.
"Something besides collaring Muldoon?" I don't have a clue what else could have happened that was more important than catching the guy who shot his mother.
"Yeah." He's almost whispering. "I saw my mother, Ray. Well, and my father, but I'd been seeing him for quite a while by then so it wasn't as shocking."
"Your mother. And wait. You've been seeing your father? For how long?" I know Fraser's weird, but I never thought he was delusional. I still don't. Maybe it's the way he's saying it, but he doesn't sound crazy.
"Since not long after I came to Chicago, but that's not important right now. What's important is seeing my mother, seeing them together, and what my father said."
"Which was?"
"He said 'nothing is permanent'."
"But that's not true, Fraser, you know that." Except he probably doesn't. 'Nothing is Permanent' is pretty much the title of his life story
"I know it now, Ray. My mother showed me." He sets the bottle down on the table. It's a good thing he leans closer because his voice was very soft. Still not nervous, but really quiet, like he's talking in church or something.
"My father was away often when I was a small boy, so my mother and I spent a great deal of time with only each other for company. Whenever I was lonely or frightened she would comfort me by touching my face and tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. At those times she'd tell me that I needn't be afraid because she and my father would always be there to care for me. I remember being very angry right after she died because I thought she'd lied to me."
God, Fraser. I grab his arm to steady him, but he really doesn't need me to. Maybe it's me that does.
"So she showed you when? In the mine shaft?"
He nods. The lantern on the coffee table throws light on his face and makes his eyes look even bluer than normal.
"She didn't say anything. I'm not sure she was capable of speech, but when she touched my face in the way that she used to I knew what she was trying to tell me. After that she took my father's hand and together they walked away. Then they vanished, together."
"Sounds like she was telling you the opposite of what your dad said".
"My father often told me she would often contradict him, to "knock some sense" into him. Perhaps she was doing exactly that, because she made me see how wrong he was. They walked away together, Ray. Some things are permanent.
I drain my beer and set the bottle down. Okay, Fraser, I'm ready for it, finish what you have to say. Tell me you'll always be my friend even if I'm in Chicago and you're up here.
"So what's permanent for you, Fraser?"
"You, Ray." He says it so quickly, so matter-of-fact that it almost doesn't register. Then it does.
"Me."
"Yes, Ray, you."
"Like as in no matter where we are we'll always be partners?" He'd said something like that before, so maybe that's what he means now.
"Well, of course we will, but I was hoping that maybe we could envision something more...optimistic."
"I'm as optimistic as the next guy, Fraser, and it'd be great if we both went back to Chicago and picked up where we left off. Good for me, maybe, but not for you, and I know that because now that I've seen the way you are here I can see how wrong it would be for you to go back there. Chicago's not your life, Fraser, not your real one. You need to be here living your real life with the caribou and the snow and the polar bears and the...snow." Way to go, Kowalski. Talk about great speeches.
"Yes, Ray, I know. It's part of what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh." I suck. "Then there's no argument because I agree with you. You should stay in Canada." I really want this conversation to be over so I can start feeling miserable.
Of course Fraser isn't done yet.
"Ray. There's another part." He grasps my arm, to get my attention, I guess, and I notice that hey, I like it when he does that. Wow.
"I was wondering if--that is, I was hoping that you would--" Now he sounds a little nervous. He's not the only one.
"Would what?"
"Would consider staying here with me." He says it really fast, like he's half-hoping I won't hear him. I hear him, all right, I just can't believe he's saying it. Or that I answer him so quick.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay."
"Okay, just like that?" He's surprised, but he knows I mean it. He looks happy. He looks good. I think I need to look at him some more.
He's still got his hand on my arm. I like it there so I make sure it stays put by covering it with my own. And yeah, major planetary shift going on here.
"Just like that, Fraser. Best offer I've had in weeks. Probably ever."
He turns his hand under mine and threads our fingers together. Mars collides with Jupiter.
"I hoped you'd want to stay but I wasn't sure if you'd. Or if we could--"
"I would. And we could. I mean, we both deserve a real life, right?" I'm pretty sure I want to kiss him now, but he still wants to talk.
"It won't be easy, you know. You'll need a job, and an application for residency, and of course we'll have to go to Chicago to get your things, which may actually be good because legally you're required to apply for residency from outside of Canada, and--"
"Fraser?"
"Yes, Ray?"
"That's the next part. See, in real life, you kind of gotta go in order with stuff. This is the first part, and we need to live it before we go on to the next part. No fair jumping ahead."
I think I'm getting through to him because his smile his back.
"And how exactly does one start living this first part?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, Fraser. I'm thinking maybe we do something like this."
I kiss him before I can talk myself out of it, quick and light. His mouth is oh, God, as soft as it looks. He's surprised for about a second, then he kisses me back, slow and thorough and beery. I move closer to him and push him down onto the couch, and I wonder how I managed to go thirty-six years without tasting him or threading my fingers through his hair.
Real life, I think. Real life is damn good.
"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray."
Fraser's voice sounds far away; I must have been sound asleep.
"Wha? Fraser?" My brain is foggy and I don't remember where I am at first. It all starts to come back once I notice that where I am is directly on top of Fraser.
"Hello, Ray," says Fraser. He sounds like he just woke up himself. "I'm sorry for waking you but I don't think we should sleep all night like this." He kisses me, soft and sleepy. "Also, Diefenbaker will need a walk before we turn in for the night."
"Okay, I'm getting up. But only for the wolf. Don't really want to." I could probably use a walk as much as Dief, since I drank a whole bottle of beer and I don't see a bathroom anywhere inside the cabin. I stand up and stretch a little, then I grab Fraser's hand and pull him up, too.
"In this case, it's essential, Ray. Diefenbaker took the liberty of helping himself to our unfinished soup while we were asleep." Dief is standing at the door, looking pained.
"I guess we don't have to give him a lecture, then, right?"
"No, I believe he's learning his lesson as we speak."
"Until next time, that is."
"You're probably right." He pulls me to him and slips a hand under my three layers of shirts. It's the first time he's touched me like that, on my bare skin. Makes me shiver, even with all the layers. I slide my arms around him and press my forehead against his.
"Time's wasting, Fraser. Let's do this thing before the wolf has an accident."
"A fine idea, Ray."
I kiss a spot on his neck, just under his ear. Now it's his turn to shiver. "And tell him to make it quick. I got plans for us when we get back."
"And just." He stops, swallows. "Just what do you, ah, have in mind?"
"You. Me. Real life, Fraser. You have to wait for the details."
"I like the sound of that, Ray."
I reach up and tuck a stray lock of Fraser's hair behind his ear.
"I do too, Fraser."
We slip on our outside gear and I open the door. Dief runs out ahead of us. I grab Fraser's gloved hand and pull him out the door with me. Outside the air is ice cold and the moon is bright on the snow. Fraser shuts the door behind us. Life continues.
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