Ache: for "Mute Fraser" Challenge - by Shay

[shayheyred.livejournal.com]

There's nothing to say. There is no Inuit story, there are no soothing words, no facile phrases to be uttered. There's nothing that will help relieve the heavy burden on his shoulders or alleviate one jot or iota of his pain.

And so Benton doesn't try. He'd like to think he knows when to shut up, but the truth is he can't trust himself to say anything, because the simple words of commiseration and understanding and forgiveness would fall on ears currently more deaf than Diefenbaker's. Ray can't hear him right now, not over his helpless sobs. He's deaf to everything except his own blinding pain and self-recrimination, and too wracked by exhaustion to fight against it.

But Benton doesn't speak for another reason; he can't trust himself to stop after words of understanding and comfort. He's afraid his words will change, that he will reveal himself too much, give too much away. Once unstoppered, his mouth may continue talking until he can no longer control it. What if he pours out his secrets indiscriminately, spilling the words of his heart until they fill the space between them, unleashing a torrent of his innermost desires? Drown an already drowning Ray in a relentless wave of unasked-for emotion?

No. To do such a thing is unimaginable. Ray doesn't need that right now. Maybe Ray will never need it.

Benton keeps silent, and lets his hand, one hand, speak for him, lets it reach across the car seat to clasp Ray's neck and rub his shoulder as shudders of despair course through Ray's body. That's all he can do, or say, right now. And maybe that's enough. That's what he tells himself.

But his jaw aches from clamping it shut so tightly.

Comments

[beledibabe.livejournal.com]

You... You... ::helpless flailing::

OMG, the sheer grit and determination and *pain*.

I love Fraser more than ever.

And you, too.

[shayheyred.livejournal.com]

Aw. Thanks, m'dear.