ds_flashfiction | Saying goodbye...

Inflicting considerably longer than the 1000 word limit and a handful of cliches on those who don't fear to tread this way. Since all the cliches take place in the same vehicle, maybe you could count it as five different little pieces rather than one longer one? tyk

2014, spring…

“Ben*ton*, it’s done done what it came to do. Let it go. We agreed. It’s done-ski.” Ray could hear the impatience build and sought another approach. “ Come on, we gotta get home and feed me. Please? Ben?”

Ray looked over at Ben, who was staring at the International Scout II, his hands settled on the hood. Yeah, it had been great. But it was definitely beyond repair at this point. They’d poured way more money and time into it than it was worth, including its sentimental value. Ray was partly surprised that Ben was having such a difficult time letting go, and partly not at all surprised that his partner’s occasionally oddly sentimental side had piped up to say, hey, let’s wait a minute here… Sure, he understood strong connections to a vehicle; he had loved the Goat and had grudgingly respected Vecchio’s connection to the Riv. But this, this was different. This was Ben.

Ben glanced at his lover and nodded in response to Ray’s request to be fed. It had been a long day and he knew Ray more than likely had very low blood sugar. He was having a much more difficult time letting go of the Scout than he ever thought he might. Ray was correct. They had agreed it was time to retire the Scout to a scrap heap and invest in a newer, more reliable vehicle. But he had had the Scout since before he went to the Depot. It was probably one of the last of its kind. And more so, it was in this vehicle that so many defining moments of his life had happened…

1978, summer…

“Son, take care of it like you would your sled dogs. It’s not quite as reliable, nor quite as cheap to run, but it’s a good resource for living out here. Especially as you help your grandparents.” Bob Fraser tossed a set of keys at his son. Ben was overwhelmed, yet knew his father well enough he shouldn’t let on to the emotion. He handily caught the keys and took a moment to hide his face from his father by studying them in his hand. After a moment, when he knew he had his emotions in check, he looked up.

“Would you wish to driver her out to see what she can do?” Ben asked his father.

“Yes. I tested it in town, but didn’t have the opportunity to take it off-road. Let’s go for a ride along the ridge and see how she does,” was the reply.

Ben opened the driver’s side door and motioned to his father, but Bob headed for the passenger side.

As Ben recalled that day when his father brought the Scout home for him, he realized that was probably the only time he and his father had “gone for a spin.”

1999, summer …

Ben was aware that Ray was watching him closely as Ben downshifted as they moved onto airport property. Ray’s duffels were in the back. They had just spent six months together, exploring Franklin’s trail and rebuilding his father’s cabin. Their friendship had grown and deepened. They had worked together in an amazing harmony – no, duet - Ben corrected himself. Now Ray’s available time was up and he needed to return to Chicago; Lieutenant Welch had contacted Ray to tell him that if he wanted a job to come back to, he’d better get back soon. So, they had closed up the cabin and taken the Scout on one last road trip together – into Whitehorse to begin Ray’s trip home.

“Fraser – I mean, uh, Ben,” Ray stuttered in a manner Ben tended to associate with Ray having a surfeit of emotions. Ben parked the Scout and looked over at his friend and partner. Benton had schooled himself before they left the cabin to be very careful about making any kind of contact with Ray – physical contact, eye contact – because he was concerned about losing his tightly held control should he keep contact too long. So Benton looked at Ray, but avoided eye contact. “Ray?”

“I, uh, I can’t breathe, Ben. I can’t breathe…”

“Ray? What’s wrong? Are you beginning to hyperventilate?” Benton’s concern for Ray overtook his own self-preservation and he started to move toward Ray. In response, Ray backed as far into the corner of the front seat as possible.

“I need help, I need – I need you like on the Henry Allen – I need you to help me breathe…”

Before Ray had finished his statement Benton propelled himself into Ray’s arms, settling into the buddy-breathing position, but kissing Ray rather than breathing for him. The kiss was immediately passionate, wild, and yet, familiar to them both. Finally they broke for air.

“Yeah, yeah, you got it – I need you, Benton Fraser. I need you to breathe. And I don’t think you can breathe for me when you’re here and I’m in Chicago. I got to, I got to”

“You have to stay here. You have to stay here with me. Because Ray, I can’t breathe without you either. Stay here with me, please. I”

“I love you, Benton. Like a friend, like a partner, like a lover. Like a piece of myself I never knew was missing and now know I can’t live without. I have to stay.”

“… love you, too, Ray,” was lost as lips met again.

2002, spring …

“Can you believe it? Can you believe it, Ben - I own a plane!”

“Well, yes, Ray, as we are towing the plane on a trailer as you shout in my ear,” the prim tone of Ben’s voice was at odds with the grin and twinkling eyes. Ben could barely contain his own enthusiasm. This was the last part of their plan. Ray would be a pilot, operating out the town where Benton was posted. With the plane, Ray’s economic independence was assured and his ability to claim citizenship would be finalized. Ben had been unwilling to admit it even to himself, but he wanted Ray to claim Canadian citizenship. Ray would then be legally settled here and not have an out to return to Chicago. Not that anything about Ray’s behavior suggested to Ben he wanted to leave. Ben knew it was his own insecurities that required this official stamp rather than anything about Ray’s behavior.

The trailer weighed the Scout down considerably making maneuvering even more difficult on the pot-holed road, and Ben reconsidered the reasons why they had towed the plane from Whitehorse rather than Ray flying it home. He heard Ray’s reasoning in his head as they had discussed it. “Well, our choices seem to be we go separately – you drive and I fly, or we go together and tow it. You know my vote – we spend too much time apart as it is.” So towing and togetherness won out over a more rationale, yet lonely, solution.

2002, just before Christmas…

Ben and Ray met back at the Scout, Ray following Ben just minutes later than their appointed meeting time. Ray was practically dancing, he seemed so happy and pleased with himself. Ben enjoyed the site of his lover’s happiness. Ray had had a successful season as a pilot, his citizenship was finalized, and all seemed right with their world. Ben could not remember a time in his life when he had felt so happy, content, and yet energized. It was as if life was perfect.

“You look quite pleased with yourself, Ray. Would you care to share?” Ben asked.

“Just get this bucket of bolts going home. I have a plan,” was the cryptic reply.

They began the route through town, Ben watching the traffic. Not that it was heavy by Chicago standards, but for Whitehorse it was rather congested and he felt the need to attend carefully. Ray was still practically dancing in the seat, whistling and humming snatches of various Christmas carols. As they were getting ready to pass the airport, Ben was startled when Ray said, with no explanation, “Turn here.”

Ben took a moment to glance at Ray, but turned at the airport entrance without question.

“Ok, now, to the right; head over toward that last row, where no cars are parked,” were his next directions. “Yeah, yeah, this is good. You can park here.”

“Are we going somewhere?” Ben asked Ray. “Have you planned a trip?” Ben didn’t mean for his tone to seem ungrateful, but he had really been looking forward to spending this holiday with Ray at the cabin, just the two of them. Dief had opted to spend the holidays with a neighboring bitch that had owners likely to overcook for the holidays.

“No, just wanted to return to the scene of the crime,” was yet another odd statement. Ray was twisting around, pulling something out of his pocket, and then turned back to Ben. Ben’s heart stopped and his mouth dropped open when he saw what Ray was holding. Two matching gold bands.

“Ben. Benton Fraser. I love you. I’ve shared the last three years with you. I want to share the rest of my life with you. I want to count you as my spouse from today on. This is where we first admitted our feelings, so I felt,” Ray’s words stumbled to a stop.

“It was the place to pledge our lives to each other,” Ben finished for him. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” And like before, he was reaching out for Ray, and they breathed for each other.

2006, Winter…

“Maggie, Maggie, don’t you do this to me. You hear me? Don’t you do this to me.” Ray’s voice held a curious combination of humor, concern, and threat.

“Now, Ray, in all fairness, it isn’t Maggie, but Burt and Ernie who are doing this to you,” Ben replied, trying to rub Maggie’s back with both of them crammed into the backseat of the Scout. Maggie stuck her tongue out at Ray, but he didn’t see the gesture.

“Smart alec Mountie. You just stuff those guys back in there until we get to town. The Muppet twins will not be clichéd any more than they have to be. That means no being born in the Scout on the way to the midwife.”

“Well, actually, Ray, I think you need to stop and find a good place off the road for us to park. If Bert and Ernie mind when they are older as they are minding you now, we’re all in big trouble,” Maggie interrupted. “I need to push now, Ben. I mean right now.”

Ray pulled the car off the road and turned around to offer what assistance he could. Ben got out as Maggie stretched out along the seat. At Ben’s suggestion, Ray climbed into the backseat and sat behind Maggie, offering her physical support and a hand to hold. Ben efficiently assisted Maggie through the labor, serving as midwife. Ray served as her coach, helping her breathe and keeping up a litany of nonsense to keep Maggie amused and engaged as he could.

Bert and Ernie (officially Robert Benton and Caroline Marie) did not obey their Uncle Ray and were indeed born, in the Scout, in the middle of a winter storm, on the side of the road. Luckily, everything was in place and the babies were born with a minimum of fuss, all things considered. Ray had commented that that Mountie properness started right from birth. Once they were born and Ben determined everyone seemed healthy, they headed home to Maggie’s cabin and settled everyone in.

2014, spring…

“Ben? Love? Benton Fraser?”

“Hmm, I’m here, Ray, and I’m fine. I’ve just been remembering all the wonderful things that have happened in the Scout. So many wonderful, precious moments. I know that giving up the Scout will not delete the memories or diminish their importance. It just seems… it seems wrong to give up something that has been such a part of my life. It’s not reasonable; it’s not logical. But I can’t give it up.”

“Ben. It’s ok. I understand. We’ll go ahead and get a new vehicle and keep this one in the barn. It’s ok. It does hold great memories. The Scout has always meant home, and you, and greatness to me. I was wrong. It hasn’t done all it came to do. Because it holds so many memories for you, for us, for Maggie and the kids. Maybe, if we work hard, we can find enough parts to let the kids use it once they are ready to drive something around the cabin. Another way to keep the memories going.”

Ben walked over and pulled Ray into a hug. “Thank you. I love you. I love you that you…you get me. What a wonderful thought, preserving the Scout for the twins. It allows them to have something from their grandfather. I think that’s an appropriate solution and it seems, well, it seems perfect. I know I am being redundant, but thank you, my love.”