singillatim | [open] the lamp is burnin' low upon my table top, the snow is softly falling

Who: Benton Fraser, Diefenbaker, and you!

What: Woodworking, guitar playing, ice skating, and more

When: Through February

Where: In Milton, at the basin, in the woods, others tbd.

Content Warnings: mention of animal butchery, hunting, others tbd.

[ Even in this icy weather, it's a good idea to preserve meat rather than simply stashing it, raw, in the snow, and so Fraser can be found in the first weeks of February in the woods, seeking out a likely-looking tree trunk, either fallen or still standing. Once found, he brings tools and begins hollowing the thing out, working steadily with Diefenbaker either lazing beside him in the snow or off in the woods, hunting for himself.

When the log is hollow, he hitches Dief in a jury-rigged harness attached to leather straps around the log and together they haul it back to the house where he's been staying with Heartman. Once back in town, Fraser can be found hammering nails and hooks inside the hollowed trunk, humming quietly to himself as he works. He'd be more than happy to answer any questions, should someone stop by to ask what he's up to. ]

ii.

[ Before he found the right trunk, while he was out in the woods, something else had happened in the early days of the month. Diefenbaker had gone stock-still and focused at his side, and when Fraser looked up, he'd seen the thing that had so caught the wolf's attention: a dog, enormous and mossy, watching them from among the trees.

No amount of calling and cajoling brings the best toward them, but when the dog had begun walking off Dief had followed without hesitation, leaving Fraser to come along or no as he would. They'd followed the strange animal on what began to feel almost like a path through the woods, strangely clear and easy to move along despite no signs of having been cleaned or kept up by man. It was hardly a surprise at all when the path led to a cabin he'd never seen before, sitting empty and cold but neat and sturdy for all that. He'd left Dief outside with the strange dog and gone to look for any signs of life.

There were none. The cabin was empty and mostly bare of supplies, but in the bedroom he found an impossible treasure: an old six-string acoustic guitar, tucked carefully away into its case. Even better, when he'd carefully lifted the thing out to inspect it, he'd found the case contained even more riches: extra packets of strings, a few picks, even a somewhat stiff capo.

Now, when he's finished work for the day, Fraser can be found on the porch steps of the house on Thompson's Drive with the guitar in his lap. On the first evening, he'll be there stringing it; on subsequent evenings someone might hear the rippling sounds of a fingerpicked accompaniment and a pleasant baritenor voice singing along. ]

ii.

[ But the Mountie isn't always in the woods. After an excursion to what remains of the outdoor gear store, he can also be found down on the frozen Basin, accompanied by the hissing sound of his hockey skates over the ice as he makes long loops or short sprints or simply skates backward in long, graceful swoops. Or perhaps someone nearby might hear the smack of a stick hitting a puck and the muffled thunk of said puck driving into a snowbank.

There's another stick and more pucks on the bank, just in case anyone would like to join him in his games. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And I spent money dreaming of adventures.

This isn't exactly what I had anticipated.

[He misses the puck and turns to retrieve it.]

No, I expect it isn't.

[ He straightens, resting his hands on the end of the stick, waiting patiently for Jopson to get the puck. ]

Had you gone on other expeditions before this one?

Oh yes. [He retrieves it and lines up his shot.]

My first expedition with Captain Crozier was to Antarctica. That was...extraordinary. [He takes a moment, then hits it towards Fraser.]

Before that, I chased slavers through the West Indies.

Those both sound like very worthy missions. I've never spent much time outside of Canada... my duty kept me there until very recently.

[ He collects the puck and passes it back before pausing. Fraser considers the bank, then skates over to the snow and starts sectioning off an area of it, about twice the width of a normal hockey net. ]

Would you like to try the shot I showed you before?

[Thomas nods.]

As long as I don't lose it in the snow. I'd hate for you to resort to flat rocks.

[ Fraser's chuckle whips away on the cold, fresh-scented wind. ]

Digging them out is half the fun. We used to see how far in we could drive them.

Go on, give it a try.

[He finds his balance on the ice and sends the puck flying right into the snow. It doesn't hit the target, but that's not what makes it fun.]

Ha! I did it.

Very nicely done!

[ He skates over to the bank and digs the puck out with a few practiced twists of his wrist and the blade of his hockey stick, then passes it back to Jopson to try again. ]

Do you pick everything up this quickly?

I try. Sometimes - [He tries to catch it and ends up having to retrieve it in his boots.]

- sometimes I find I need to learn something quickly or the ship will not run as it should.

I'm not a Navy man, myself, but I can see how a good steward would be indispensable.

[ Who else sees all the inner workings of a captain and crew? Maybe the medic, perhaps an especially good executive officer. ]

And that's certainly a helpful skill to have here.

[He can't help a little laugh.]

And what is it that you do?

[Thomas doesn't know what the Mounted Police is.]

I'm a police officer.

[ Which is true, but as in Chicago, he feels he ought to be transparent with his ability to act as a police officer. ]

In Canada. But not this Canada, unless I'm very much mistaken. So in my Canada, and at the Consulate, where I work, I'm a policeman.

[ A pause, as he thinks his own words over. ]

That’s not clear. Let me start over.

[ He opens his mouth to speak, blinks rapidly as he realizes he's about to run aground once more on the same issues, closes his mouth again. ]

...Do you know what a “liaison officer” is…?

[Thomas nods once. It's not difficult to figure out, given everything he's seen and learned here.]

Peace, Mr. Fraser. You are making yourself clear enough.

Oh, good.

[ That's a relief, even though he's sure he managed to make it more confusing than it needed to be. ]

My father was a Mountie, too. I suppose I always knew what I wanted to do with my life.

Doing the same business as your father? That's dedication.

[He walks along the ice, puck forgotten for the moment.]

Do you have any regrets about it.

[ For a moment, Fraser looks around: taking in the clear, cold sky, the white blanket of snow all around them. In the quiet of this place, he can hear the subtle shifts of the ice as it spreads out over the water.

This isn’t his home, but it’s very similar. Perhaps close enough. ]

I suppose everyone has some doubts or regrets, on occasion.

[ If he closes his eyes now, he could still call from his memory the wailing of the storm, Victoria’s low voice. The words she repeated over and over. I caught this morning morning’s minion–. ]

…But I count myself fortunate to only have a few.

Have you ever wished you made some other choice for yourself?

[The choice that he made for himself ended with him likely dead. Abandoned at the end of his life. Alone. Reaching for something that he can never have.

And yet - ]

No. No, I lived my life in the best way I knew. I would even return to that expedition, doomed as it was.

That is a very wise outlook, I think.

[ He doesn't ask what, if anything, the other man would change if he were to go back, do it all over again. Everyone is entitled to their own wishes, daydreams, misgivings. He'd have no idea what to say if someone asked him what he might change, if he could. Perhaps he'd have told his father he loved him.

Then again, perhaps not. He nods at the puck, readies his stick. ]

Want to give that another try?

[open] the lamp is burnin' low upon my table top, the snow is softly falling

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maybe for fade and something fresh later?