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May. 3rd, 2003 06:49 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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ds_flashfictionThis was a real challenge. The first part came very quickly, but I fussed with the second part for a couple of days. Thought I'd better post it now before I change it again.
...
Leaving
He'd been sick that day and came home early. There was a noise from the bedroom. Someone moving around, he heard the sound of a drawer being pushed back in. He drew his weapon and stepped into the bedroom in shooting stance.
"Freeze!"
The intruder turned around and screamed. Fuck! It was Stella, and he'd almost shot her. He lowered his gun and took in the scene. There were two suitcases on the bed. She had emptied the dresser and had been at the closet.
"Stella? What's going on?" His brain, already foggy from the flu, couldn't fathom what she was doing.
He stood there as she snapped the suitcases closed, straightened and avoided looking him in the eyes. "I was going to call you tonight, Ray," she said quietly.
Again, he'd asked, "What's going on, Stella?"
She lifted her head and made eye contact. "I'm leaving, Ray. I'd hope to be gone before you got home."
"Why?"
"Ray," she got his attention as she picked up the bags, "it's time. You know it, and I know it."
She walked out past him as he slumped against the wall. Automatically, he unloaded his weapon and locked it away. Good thing because his next thought had been to lift it to his head. He walked into the bathroom, stood over the toilet and puked. He never heard the door shut over the retching.
***
Five years later, he was the one packing. Fraser stood there by him folding his clothes neatly as he tucked them into the duffle bag.
"This sucks. This really sucks, Fraser."
"It does indeed, Ray, but we agreed. You have to go back, and you insist that I stay here and not accompany you."
"Let's not start that again. This is where you belong. You know it, and I know it. My time here ran out. Now I have to go back while I still have a job that I can retire from in a few years."
"Who would have guessed you to be the logical one about this?"
They laughed and embraced. Ray whispered in Fraser's ear. "I'm coming back. You know I'm coming back, don't you?"
"You'd better. I'd hunt you to ends of the earth if you don't come back. In the meantime, we have vacations."
"Still sucks." Ray moved back and looked around. "Where's my gun?"
"Now Ray, we talked about that. You don't have a permit to carry a gun in Canada, and I'm sure it will be much simpler for you to leave it with me and procure another in Chicago."
"Right, right, and this way you don't have to worry about me going into the airport restroom and shootin' myself in the head."
Fraser grabbed his arms hard. "Don't say that, Ray!"
Full of remorse, Ray apologized. "Sorry, Fraser. It's just..." He sighed.
"Understood."
They kissed one last time. Ray reluctantly pulled himself away and zipped up his bag. "Come on, Fraser. Pitter patter, let's get at 'er."
End
...
Leaving
He'd been sick that day and came home early. There was a noise from the bedroom. Someone moving around, he heard the sound of a drawer being pushed back in. He drew his weapon and stepped into the bedroom in shooting stance.
"Freeze!"
The intruder turned around and screamed. Fuck! It was Stella, and he'd almost shot her. He lowered his gun and took in the scene. There were two suitcases on the bed. She had emptied the dresser and had been at the closet.
"Stella? What's going on?" His brain, already foggy from the flu, couldn't fathom what she was doing.
He stood there as she snapped the suitcases closed, straightened and avoided looking him in the eyes. "I was going to call you tonight, Ray," she said quietly.
Again, he'd asked, "What's going on, Stella?"
She lifted her head and made eye contact. "I'm leaving, Ray. I'd hope to be gone before you got home."
"Why?"
"Ray," she got his attention as she picked up the bags, "it's time. You know it, and I know it."
She walked out past him as he slumped against the wall. Automatically, he unloaded his weapon and locked it away. Good thing because his next thought had been to lift it to his head. He walked into the bathroom, stood over the toilet and puked. He never heard the door shut over the retching.
***
Five years later, he was the one packing. Fraser stood there by him folding his clothes neatly as he tucked them into the duffle bag.
"This sucks. This really sucks, Fraser."
"It does indeed, Ray, but we agreed. You have to go back, and you insist that I stay here and not accompany you."
"Let's not start that again. This is where you belong. You know it, and I know it. My time here ran out. Now I have to go back while I still have a job that I can retire from in a few years."
"Who would have guessed you to be the logical one about this?"
They laughed and embraced. Ray whispered in Fraser's ear. "I'm coming back. You know I'm coming back, don't you?"
"You'd better. I'd hunt you to ends of the earth if you don't come back. In the meantime, we have vacations."
"Still sucks." Ray moved back and looked around. "Where's my gun?"
"Now Ray, we talked about that. You don't have a permit to carry a gun in Canada, and I'm sure it will be much simpler for you to leave it with me and procure another in Chicago."
"Right, right, and this way you don't have to worry about me going into the airport restroom and shootin' myself in the head."
Fraser grabbed his arms hard. "Don't say that, Ray!"
Full of remorse, Ray apologized. "Sorry, Fraser. It's just..." He sighed.
"Understood."
They kissed one last time. Ray reluctantly pulled himself away and zipped up his bag. "Come on, Fraser. Pitter patter, let's get at 'er."
End
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Date: 2003-05-03 08:35 am (UTC)They're gonna be OK :)
I also liked the part wih Stella- poor Ray!
Right on target
Date: 2003-05-03 08:49 am (UTC)I'm glad the second leaving went much better!
(Asking Ray to give up his gun semi-permanently should be as personal as asking him to give up the GTO -- my brothers are cops, and while their relationship to their guns is not exactly Freudian, it's an important part of their professional equipment -- Fraser could probably fill out a humongous number of official forms and mail it back to him. But Ray probably has a second-favorite gun in a lockbox at home, anyway.)
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Date: 2003-05-03 11:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-03 03:46 pm (UTC)