Darkest Before Dawn Challenge
Aug. 7th, 2004 08:55 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
wynterhawk.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionComing in at 1,400 words. Titled: "Peanut Butter"
Ray sat alone in the dimly lighted breakroom in the station house. All the excitement that had gone on a few hours earlier had long since faded along with his hot rush of panic and adrenaline. He was now just feeling weak and cold.
He could still smell the smoke coming from his clothing but didn’t bother to dwell on the subject of his soot streaked skin.
He flashed back on memory of the explosion.
The crime scene had been so pretty. So pristine and everything was intact and made sense. They would snag the murderer with no sweat at all.
That was until the perp demonstrated that he had left one last present. It was a set-up.
The bomb blast caught all the cops off guard. The glass pieces and nails that had been buried within the heart of the dirty bomb ripped through exposed flesh and the officers, those that were still mobile, scrambled for cover.
Ray hadn’t been one of the lucky ones. He’d been struck hard in the back of the head by one of the bomb casing shards. Dizzy and with ears ringing in shock, he tripped over one of the dead officers and sprawled out across the ruined floor. The stench of blood was hot in his nostrils and he shook himself to regain his bearings. Nauseous and fighting the violent urge to vomit, he slowly inched towards the exit. But the voice calling to him stopped him.
The place was unstable. So unstable that Ray could feel the room shuddering, threatening to collapse in on itself. But Ray reached for the officer that had screamed for his help, hoping against hope that he could grab him and pull him free before they met their deaths. He had heard the low groan of the bowing splintered wood beams above them and knew if he didn’t act fast; it would be the last thing he would see as a Chicago police detective.
But the man was wedged too tightly between two heavy pieces of fallen lumber and Ray just wasn’t fast enough to get him out of the way. The weight of the falling beam had cracked Ray’s wrist and hand, breaking those bones in several places. The beam had also crushed the man’s skull as easily as a soft boiled egg rendering the rescue mission quite worthless.
Back in the present, in the dim of the break room, Ray tried to flex his fingers within the tight casing as he sat in the quiet room at the table. And he tried to forget what he’d seen.
Ben watched him for a moment from his place in the shadows just outside the room’s doorway. He’d seen Ray do some amazing things during their unofficial partnership. He’d seen some absolutely fantastic acts of heroism, most of them life threatening in fact, but yet, Ray seemed to always pull through with some witty remark and an insolent jerk of his head.
Ray was a tough-guy. He would be fine.
Ray was always fine and he would always be there to pick you up in the morning.
But Ben had never seen him like this.
Broken.
Ray shifted on the hard wooden chair and pressed a little closer to the lip of the long metal trimmed wood table. A dark blue cloth sling hugged his right arm close to his torso and his hand stuck out from the edge, round and swollen and swathed in layers of white bandage. His fingers were in that misshapen lump somewhere.
The black ash from the fire had soiled his face where it wasn’t vividly purple and red with bruising. A long curling rip in the flesh of his jaw had been held together by several butterfly bandages but still looked like it was just waiting to bleed forth.
Ray bent his head, looking down at a squat plastic jar of peanut butter he held braced against his middle. Awkwardly, with his left hand, he dipped a rounded brown cracker and raked it about in the salty sweet mixture to scoop up a thick dollop. Looking down at the cracker, like a child who didn’t yet know how to manipulate his limbs in order to achieve his desired results, Ray held the cracker up to his mouth. Smearing the peanut butter with the pointed tip of his tongue, he bit into the cracker, crunching it into two neat halves before folding them both into his mouth. As he chewed, he repeated the slow process and Ben watched him swallow before he smeared then halved the next cracker and ate that too.
“Ray?”
He didn’t turn. He continued to dress another cracker. Holding it carefully between his middle finger and thumb, Ray sucked the peanut butter from his extended index finger.
Ben hesitated and although he knew the room was empty, out of habit, he looked about. He looked up at the flickering ceiling light and then back to his friend.
With a frown creasing his brow, Ray was now staring down into the condiment jar as if searching for something.
Ben pulled out a chair and sat next to him. Ray had a smudge of peanut butter on his bottom lip, but before Ben could point it out, the Italian licked it away and then breathed out a long sigh.
“It’s three in the morning, Benny… what are you still doing here?”
Ray sounded weary, almost as if he hadn’t the energy to speak in more than a rush of breath.
Ben didn’t directly answer the question when he finally spoke.
“I was looking for you, Ray. Leftenant Welsh informed me that you were still around here somewhere.”
“I’m hiding,” Ray said quietly, a queer grin twisting his moist lips.
“From what?”
A sharp jerk of his shoulders told Ben that he wasn’t in the mood to talk.
“Is someone coming to get you, Ray? Or are you going to drive yourself home.”
“I can drive.”
A note of petulance snuck into his voice.
Still loopy from the drugs flooding through his veins, Ray’s hazel eyes slipped a bit in their liquid sockets and he looked down at the wax paper wrapped cylinder of crackers again. He reached for another cracker, but on the way there, he changed his mind and with a fingertip he rolled the stiff tube out of the way.
Ben leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. He laced his fingers loosely and studied them for a moment.
“It wasn’t your fault, Ray.”
The silence was heavy between them. Ray drew in another breath and his teeth clicked together, the hard sound muted slightly by his cheeks.
“You did all you could.”
“Listen, Benny. I don’t need this from you right now. I really don’t. Now if you don’t mind, I’d rather finish my…”
Suddenly as if burned by a sudden lick of flame, Ray leapt up from the table. The chair skittered out from behind him, making a loud complaint across the scuffed linoleum. It was only a reflex that allowed Ben to get up just as quickly. Refraining from physically restraining the cop, Ben decided to use his words.
“Where are you going?”
Ray didn’t go anywhere.
He just stood there for a moment, angrily staring down the drink machine. His good hand clenched spastically at his side and he soundlessly worked his puffy jaw. He then turned and all but fell into the chair again. Ben stood at his elbow and very gently rested his hand on his friend’s bandaged shoulder.
“Will you let me take you home, Ray?”
A nod.
Ray got up again. After fishing the car keys from Ray's coat pocket, Ben helped him to put on his coat. He slid an arm about Ray and silently, they left the mess behind.
Ray sat alone in the dimly lighted breakroom in the station house. All the excitement that had gone on a few hours earlier had long since faded along with his hot rush of panic and adrenaline. He was now just feeling weak and cold.
He could still smell the smoke coming from his clothing but didn’t bother to dwell on the subject of his soot streaked skin.
He flashed back on memory of the explosion.
The crime scene had been so pretty. So pristine and everything was intact and made sense. They would snag the murderer with no sweat at all.
That was until the perp demonstrated that he had left one last present. It was a set-up.
The bomb blast caught all the cops off guard. The glass pieces and nails that had been buried within the heart of the dirty bomb ripped through exposed flesh and the officers, those that were still mobile, scrambled for cover.
Ray hadn’t been one of the lucky ones. He’d been struck hard in the back of the head by one of the bomb casing shards. Dizzy and with ears ringing in shock, he tripped over one of the dead officers and sprawled out across the ruined floor. The stench of blood was hot in his nostrils and he shook himself to regain his bearings. Nauseous and fighting the violent urge to vomit, he slowly inched towards the exit. But the voice calling to him stopped him.
The place was unstable. So unstable that Ray could feel the room shuddering, threatening to collapse in on itself. But Ray reached for the officer that had screamed for his help, hoping against hope that he could grab him and pull him free before they met their deaths. He had heard the low groan of the bowing splintered wood beams above them and knew if he didn’t act fast; it would be the last thing he would see as a Chicago police detective.
But the man was wedged too tightly between two heavy pieces of fallen lumber and Ray just wasn’t fast enough to get him out of the way. The weight of the falling beam had cracked Ray’s wrist and hand, breaking those bones in several places. The beam had also crushed the man’s skull as easily as a soft boiled egg rendering the rescue mission quite worthless.
Back in the present, in the dim of the break room, Ray tried to flex his fingers within the tight casing as he sat in the quiet room at the table. And he tried to forget what he’d seen.
Ben watched him for a moment from his place in the shadows just outside the room’s doorway. He’d seen Ray do some amazing things during their unofficial partnership. He’d seen some absolutely fantastic acts of heroism, most of them life threatening in fact, but yet, Ray seemed to always pull through with some witty remark and an insolent jerk of his head.
Ray was a tough-guy. He would be fine.
Ray was always fine and he would always be there to pick you up in the morning.
But Ben had never seen him like this.
Broken.
Ray shifted on the hard wooden chair and pressed a little closer to the lip of the long metal trimmed wood table. A dark blue cloth sling hugged his right arm close to his torso and his hand stuck out from the edge, round and swollen and swathed in layers of white bandage. His fingers were in that misshapen lump somewhere.
The black ash from the fire had soiled his face where it wasn’t vividly purple and red with bruising. A long curling rip in the flesh of his jaw had been held together by several butterfly bandages but still looked like it was just waiting to bleed forth.
Ray bent his head, looking down at a squat plastic jar of peanut butter he held braced against his middle. Awkwardly, with his left hand, he dipped a rounded brown cracker and raked it about in the salty sweet mixture to scoop up a thick dollop. Looking down at the cracker, like a child who didn’t yet know how to manipulate his limbs in order to achieve his desired results, Ray held the cracker up to his mouth. Smearing the peanut butter with the pointed tip of his tongue, he bit into the cracker, crunching it into two neat halves before folding them both into his mouth. As he chewed, he repeated the slow process and Ben watched him swallow before he smeared then halved the next cracker and ate that too.
“Ray?”
He didn’t turn. He continued to dress another cracker. Holding it carefully between his middle finger and thumb, Ray sucked the peanut butter from his extended index finger.
Ben hesitated and although he knew the room was empty, out of habit, he looked about. He looked up at the flickering ceiling light and then back to his friend.
With a frown creasing his brow, Ray was now staring down into the condiment jar as if searching for something.
Ben pulled out a chair and sat next to him. Ray had a smudge of peanut butter on his bottom lip, but before Ben could point it out, the Italian licked it away and then breathed out a long sigh.
“It’s three in the morning, Benny… what are you still doing here?”
Ray sounded weary, almost as if he hadn’t the energy to speak in more than a rush of breath.
Ben didn’t directly answer the question when he finally spoke.
“I was looking for you, Ray. Leftenant Welsh informed me that you were still around here somewhere.”
“I’m hiding,” Ray said quietly, a queer grin twisting his moist lips.
“From what?”
A sharp jerk of his shoulders told Ben that he wasn’t in the mood to talk.
“Is someone coming to get you, Ray? Or are you going to drive yourself home.”
“I can drive.”
A note of petulance snuck into his voice.
Still loopy from the drugs flooding through his veins, Ray’s hazel eyes slipped a bit in their liquid sockets and he looked down at the wax paper wrapped cylinder of crackers again. He reached for another cracker, but on the way there, he changed his mind and with a fingertip he rolled the stiff tube out of the way.
Ben leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. He laced his fingers loosely and studied them for a moment.
“It wasn’t your fault, Ray.”
The silence was heavy between them. Ray drew in another breath and his teeth clicked together, the hard sound muted slightly by his cheeks.
“You did all you could.”
“Listen, Benny. I don’t need this from you right now. I really don’t. Now if you don’t mind, I’d rather finish my…”
Suddenly as if burned by a sudden lick of flame, Ray leapt up from the table. The chair skittered out from behind him, making a loud complaint across the scuffed linoleum. It was only a reflex that allowed Ben to get up just as quickly. Refraining from physically restraining the cop, Ben decided to use his words.
“Where are you going?”
Ray didn’t go anywhere.
He just stood there for a moment, angrily staring down the drink machine. His good hand clenched spastically at his side and he soundlessly worked his puffy jaw. He then turned and all but fell into the chair again. Ben stood at his elbow and very gently rested his hand on his friend’s bandaged shoulder.
“Will you let me take you home, Ray?”
A nod.
Ray got up again. After fishing the car keys from Ray's coat pocket, Ben helped him to put on his coat. He slid an arm about Ray and silently, they left the mess behind.
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Date: 2004-08-07 06:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-08 04:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-07 11:10 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2004-08-07 11:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-08 04:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-08 07:12 am (UTC)This feels like the end of one of those breathtaking S1/2 episodes that starts light and comical and ends up in a very dark, but soulful and loving place, like The Deal or Juliet Is Bleeding. I'm so glad you brought in the way Ray risks his life, usually for Benny, but for others, too--why does this keep slipping through the cracks?
The simple, powerful image of Ray trying to eat the peanut butter crackers is going to stay with me for a long time.
Brava.
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Date: 2004-08-08 04:39 pm (UTC)And you're right, those particular episodes have a way of delivering a hard punch to the gut. I am honored to have this story be mentioned in the same breath.
You know what's funny, I was eating ritz crackers and peanut butter at the time of this story. It would be really hard to scoop peanut butter with the cracker with one hand.
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Date: 2004-08-08 09:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-08 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2004-08-08 07:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-08 04:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-08 10:43 am (UTC)I think it's so hard to really get this chemistry between these two, as beautifully as they did in the canon episodes, yet you do a marvelous job! Dark chocolate is right. I especially loved (aside from the peanut butter, which was just *guh*!) the part around--
Ray was a tough-guy. He would be fine.
Ray was always fine and he would always be there to pick you up in the morning.
But Ben had never seen him like this.
I have a thing for Vulnerable!Ben and so I always like reading Ben show a crack of his weaknesses to Kowalski, but the dynamics is slightly different in F/V isn't it... I can't explain, but you nailed it wonderfully. Brava!
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Date: 2004-08-08 04:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-08 11:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-08 04:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-08 11:30 am (UTC)Excellent.
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Date: 2004-08-08 04:47 pm (UTC)thank you for reading!
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Date: 2004-08-08 05:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-09 03:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-09 06:00 am (UTC)He might complain, but he'll always do the right thing.
You know, he does complain, but he never complains about cases to which he was actually assigned.
He lets himself be roped in to "Mr Fraser's Wild Ride". Helping Benny probably sounded fun to him in the beginning, but then when he saw the crazy things he'd have to do, *that's* when he may have thought twice about it. He'd think twice, still go along and grouse about why he let himsef be roped in *again* :)
Poor boy. *g*
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Date: 2004-08-09 06:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-09 06:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-10 11:12 pm (UTC)I'm glad he has Benny to look out for him.