Constable Benton Fraser (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
maintiensledroit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillatim2024-02-09 12:17 pm
maintiensledroit) wrote in singillatim2024-02-09 12:17 pm
[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.
i.
[ 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. ]
no subject
So it's a good thing for the both of them that the coffee beckons Fraser's attention just then. Jim has to brush his fingers over his eyes again, swallowing thickly and gripping the armrest of his seat, and hopefully looks composed again when Fraser comes back with both their coffees. ]
Thank you.
[ He takes it, genuinely grateful, but letting it rest for now, too hot to drink just yet. It'd be too hard to swallow right now, when Fraser starts talking about La'an again. ]
I saw her grave. It's really... [ His tone falters, and he presses his lips tightly. ] It's a good spot. I could tell someone had put in the time and concern to make it nice.
[ He doesn't talk about everything else. About how unfair it all feels, that he got here just a couple of weeks too late. Would it have made a difference? Would she still be alive, were he here then? Or were they just doomed from the start, no matter where?
But worse than all that, it's that this isn't how it was supposed to go. He's the one who's supposed to not be alive; or rather, supposed to not even exist in the first place. She should be back in her world, back to her life, in a reality far more idyllic than he could begin to imagine.
Not here, in the middle of nowhere. Buried in the ground with everyone important in her life none the wiser. ]
Sorry. [ The apology is more for the pained expression on his face, a soft groan leaving him as he brushes tears from his eyes again. ] That's good, that's— I'll welcome that. Think I'm gonna need all the help I can get, down here.
[ 'Down here', as in, planetside. ]
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[ There's no particular reason why this man should trust him, aside from the fact that they're both grieving the same woman, and he hopes James might trust La'an's judgment enough to believe Fraser is the sort of man who means what he says.
... Which puts him in mind of another duty, one he's been dreading. He's put it off long enough. ]
I'll be right back.
[ He says it as he gets up, setting his coffee aside, before disappearing into one of the back rooms of the house, leaving James alone with Diefenbaker, who is pretending not to pay attention to this new visitor. It's a moment before Fraser comes back, but when he does, he's holding a small item, wrapped carefully in one of his own clean handkerchiefs. ]
She left this for me the night she died.
[ Unfolding the cloth, Fraser holds it out for James' inspection: a broken diver's watch accompanied by a note in a hand the man might recognize.
He'd known ever since he saw the post on the bulletin board that he would have to offer the watch to James, give it up, if the man wants it. It's beyond selfish for him to want to keep it for himself, to hope that James might not want it -- he takes those thoughts and feelings and ties them ruthlessly away. He knows what it's like to cling to the last small things left behind, the journals and photos and other talismans that take on so much more weight when the person they belonged to is gone.
This watch can't carry a whole person in its broken face, but it can carry a memory. ]
I think maybe she'd have liked for you to have it.
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When Fraser comes back, he looks up, and when his gaze lands on what the man is holding, it's as if he feels his heart shatter to little pieces. Grief is far too clear in his expression, and he doesn't even try to hide it. All his focus is on the watch in Fraser's hand, a shuddered breath leaving him, almost as if it takes a part of his soul with it.
He has to gather enough of his focus to set his coffee aside, so he can take the watch instead. He holds it like he's holding something infinitely precious, his thumb running along the casing, and despite his best attempts, tears are quick to well in his eyes, dripping down his cheeks.
He doesn't cry exactly, not audibly anyway. It's a quiet sort of pain, hurting far too much in his chest, making everything in him tighten to an unbearable degree. All at once, Jim feels like he can't breathe or think. He presses the watch to his chest and bends his head down, nodding faintly while trying to contain his reaction, since he can't really keep it in anymore. ]
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He has no words to offer as James curls into himself, as tears well and fall. Fraser, himself, hasn't cried – he can't recall the last time he cried. Not at his father's funeral. Not when he watched the officers leading Victoria away. He must have, as a child, but he can hardly think of a time when he hadn't only felt the burn inside his chest, the ache in his heart, while his eyes stay dry.
They do, now, too, even as he shifts closer, close enough to reach out and grip the other man's shoulder, steadying. Comforting, he hopes. Her loss is still raw even to him; he knows how difficult it must be for James. Can only imagine that pain compounded with the shock of having lost her even before he arrived.
The crackling fire and James' soft breaths are the only sounds in the quiet house. He doesn't offer any other words yet, only his company, his understanding, his sympathy, and hopes it will be – if not enough, what could be? – some small help. ]
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Right now, he feels nothing like it. Feels like bits and pieces of him fall apart, no matter how hard he tries to keep them lodged in place. It's not just the loss that gets to him. It's the unfairness of it all, the randomness of the universe (or universes), the way it works as if what's right or what's supposed to happen doesn't matter in the least.
Jim shouldn't exist, and yet here he is. Suffering the loss of someone who should have gone back to her own world, safe and sound. ]
Sorry. [ He manages eventually, once the tension has somewhat eased from his shoulders, and he's wiped the tears from his eyes. He lets out a deep breath, audible, leaning back where he sits to offer Fraser a brief glance. ] I don't usually— do this. Guess this has just all been a lot to process.
[ And he really hasn't given himself the time to do so, yet. ]
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[ He lets go of the other man’s shoulder and sits back to give James some space, his gaze troubled and sympathetic. ]
Take all the time you need. I imagine this has all been an enormous shock.
[ It had been to him, and he’s someone familiar with this sort of area. James is clearly a capable and reasonable man, but he’s a capable and reasonable man who hasn’t dealt with this sort of environment on a long-term basis before. And that’s before adding the shattering, constant ache of grief into the equation.
His glance falls to the watch in the other man’s hand. Hopefully, after the initial shock has worn off, it’ll be a comfort… as it was for him. ]
Please don’t apologize. I only wish there were something else I could do to help.
no subject
You've done plenty already, believe me.
[ More than he would expect from a virtual stranger, even one who's gotten to know La'an. Not just that he's taken the time to talk to Jim, but that he gave him something that must mean something to him as well. Not everyone would— Jim is pretty sure he wouldn't, in his place. ]
Just need some time to process all this. [ Yes, he knows he might not get the luxury of time here. He's also aware that the question he's about to make will likely work against that, but he has to know, so. ] The more recent Darkwalker attack. Is that— what happened to her?
I think we can probably fade this out soon if that works!
[ It's far from a pleasant thing to recall or speak about, but Fraser pushes that discomfort down and away, focusing on the facts. The tightness in his stomach, in his chest, when he thinks back to that horrible morning is his own burden to bear, not something to put on this man. ]
She appeared to have walked out to meet it... the autopsy showed she hadn't eaten in a day or two. There was no immediately visible cause of death.
[ Her heart had simply... stopped, whether from fear or some other factor, he has no idea. ]
I'm sorry... we still don't know much about it or how it attacks. If there had been a way to protect her... I would have.
Sounds good! Please let me know if this works
[ Jim doesn't know why he knows, why he's so sure that this guy he's only just met gives off an immediate sense of trust. He's also always been good at reading people, for the most part anyway. At the very least, he knows when to trust his instincts when it comes to people. When to believe them, when to keep some distance just in case they end up proving to be something else entirely.
But he feels alright, with Fraser. Feels like there could be an ally here, maybe even a friend. He'll need the former, if he ends up being here for long. ]
Actually, if you've got a bit of time to spare, I also have a few questions about this place to ask?
[ It just seems unnecessarily painful for them both to keep talking about La'an. They will undoubtedly circle back to her, mention her other times, but Jim just needs the time to process all the information, and bombarding Fraser with the topic won't help either of them. There is, however, plenty else about this place he wants to know, and if Fraser's willing to indulge him while they share their coffee, then all the better. ]