Disclaimer under duress: Due South belongs to Alliance, not me. I freely acknowledge that. I also freely play with their characters, namely Benton Fraser, Ray Kawolski and Diefenbaker the Wonder Wolf whenever I get a chance.
******************************************************************************* Post GFtS the way I see it...
*Indebted*
by Meghan Black
Don't even ask me what I'm doing. Besides, it ought to be obvious. I'm standing here outside the Canadian consulate with a credit card in my hand. And I ain't paying for nothing.
No, wait. That ain't right. I'm paying big time.
I'm paying for not watching my partner's back. I'm paying for forgetting for a few hours just how determined and goddamned stubborn the Mountie who resides in this building really is. I'm paying like a mother for not being there for him.
*Snick* There ya go, baby. Slide on down for pappa. The door in this old building was made to jimmy. I can't believe they don't get robbed every frigging night of the week. Inside it's dark and quiet and I feel like I'm in some kind of museum. Streetlights can't get through the heavy brocade curtains in the front entry, so I stand here, letting my eyes adjust to the shadows and angles of the dark furniture so I don't break something.
I can't believe how quiet it is. No sounds of traffic outside (of course the fact that it's 2 a.m. might have somethin' to do with that), just a muffled sort of silence that makes my heartbeat sound like a African drum. When I start across the high gloss linoleum, the sound of my boot heels booms and echoes around the foyer. Shit! Just announce your entrance Kowalski. Take out an ad in the paper while you're at it.
His door is shut, but a slow turn of the brass knob tells me he didn't lock it. Probably didn't expect some nosey parker to be checking up on him in the middle of the night. I snort at that thought. Neither one of us knows the other as well as we thought we did.
Son of a bitch, he looks bad. Unlike the front of the building, the back windows make it seem like daylight. And there he is, flopped out on his stomach (probably to ease his back), nothing covering that solid, bruised body but a thin layer of red cotton. But his face is turned this way and even in the dim light from outside, I can see the dark patches on his cheeks, over his eye and around his mouth. It makes me wince just to look at him. My hand rises to touch my own face, and I don't even want to imagine what that ass whoppin' felt like.
You see, I had to check on 'im. No talking, no explanations…no apologies. I just needed to see him. Make sure he was ok after leaving the party tonight. I couldn't go home without seeing him again. It's part of my payment.
But now that I'm here, I can't leave. Can't just walk out and go home, safe and sound in my own warm bed while I can see he's laying there, probably aching, even in his sleep. It shouldn't of happened, or at the very least…we should've shared it.
Kneeling beside his toy soldier bed, my knees are protesting. But the bite of hard wood floor just seems right. Another installment on my payment plan to make this up to Fraser. So, I just kneel there, watching 'im. Listening to the steady breathing, trying to keep myself from reaching out. My fingers ache to touch him, to see if he feels as solid as he looks. I can't though. I don't have that right anymore. It will have to relearned. Re-earned.
I sigh loudly and let my butt rest back on my heels. The sigh bounces around the room and I clamp my lips together to keep it from happening again. But he don't wake up. Just shifts and rolls over to his back, his face scrunching up in pain, even in his sleep, as the hard mattress offers little in the way of relief.
And now I'm faced with a new problem. Ah, it's more payment. I got it now. I get to squat here in the dark, watching my partner sleep like a dead man. Watch the outline of his dick cutting into the thin cloth of those red flannels…and I can't touch him. I nod my head in silent acknowledgement. Makes sense to me.
So I swear right here and now…if I can figure out how to tell him what I feel…If I get the guts to be honest…If all these ifs get resolved…well, I'm gonna earn the right to touch him. I'm gonna find out what he feels like under all that itchy wool, and I'm gonna make it all up to him.
Our breathing has synced up and I feel at peace finally. I'm content to just sit here, watching him, breathing him in, reaching out with my heart until I can touch the real thing. I'm good for my IOU. And it'll be more than air he gets this time.
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