ds_flashfiction | Songfic challenge: Sleep Dog Lullaby by riverlight

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I can't really picture Fraser listening to music; that seems more Ray's line. But if he did, I think he'd like the Be Good Tanyas. I can see it now:

Fraser's leaning against the wall of the club. "What's this music, Ray?" he asked. "I think I like it."
"Huh." Ray grinned. "Figures you'd like it, Frase. They're Canadian. Plus, they're using banjos. That's gotta be right up your alley."

Of course, at that point Fraser'd have to talk about the history of the banjo for five minutes, and he'd probably end up throwing a few Stan Rogers references into the conversation, but hey, that's the Fraser we all know and love, right?

Anyway, whether or not I'm right about his musical taste, I love them, and their whole CD "Blue Horse" makes me think of Ray and Fraser, especially the song for which this fic is named.

I should note here that this fic is actually for five Be Good Tanyas songs, and so it's in five parts. Unfortunately, I've only finished the first part in time to make this deadline. That's what I get, I suppose, for starting to write two days before it's due! I've been assured, however, that this first part stands on its own as a story. Admittedly, it's a rather depressing story, but if you're willing to give it a shot, I'd be thrilled--it's my first dS fic, and I'm rather proud of it. And never fear, it definitely has a happy ending. If the mods permit, I'll edit this post to add the other parts as I finish them; if not, they'll be over at my journal.

Title: Sleep Dog Lullaby
Author:

riverlight
Pairing: RayK/Fraser, eventually, though you can't really see it in this part.
Beta: by the fabulous

lozenger8, who not only gave me some incredibly useful comments, but who did it amazingly quickly.

1. Rain and Snow

So May rolls around, and of course I start thinking of Stella like usual. Maybe that makes me a dumb shit, I don't know; I mean, it's been two years, I got no right to be thinking of her anymore. But I guess some habits you can't break. I see the lilacs around Mrs. Mancini's front porch, and suddenly I'm right back to the day me and Stel got married. It was this little church in her neighborhood, something not-Catholic 'cause we were trying to make her parents happy, and it was a nice day so they had the windows open. No stained glass, just these green-tinted windows that pushed outward, and there were lilacs right outside so the whole place smelled like flowers. So I catch a bit of that scent and I can't think of anything but her, and when Mrs. Mancini opens the door Fraser's gotta elbow me aside to introduce himself 'cause I'm just standing there not saying anything.

I tell Fraser about it later, at the diner after we've taken Mr. Mancini to the station and finally finished the paperwork. He raises his eyebrows at me over his teacup. "Wait, Ray," he says, "Mrs. Mancini reminded you of Stella? I didn't think they looked very much alike." He's giving me this politely baffled look. "I suppose they're both women, yes, but Mrs. Mancini was rather, um, stout. Not to mention black-haired."

"Naw, Frase," I say. "Not Mrs. Mancini. The flowers. I got an assess—I got a connection between Stella and lilacs. Reminds me of our wedding." Dief whines, and Fraser looks down.

"No, Dief, wedding," he says. "Not bedding. And I'll thank you to keep your prurient thoughts to yourself." Dief, as usual, ignores him and turns away. "Sorry, Ray," he says. "You were saying you have an, ah, association between your ex-wife and the flowers of the Syringa family?"

Then we have to detour for a moment for him to tell to me that he's not talking about needles like I thought. ("Syringa is the Latin name for the lilac, Ray," he says. "Use English, Fraser," I say.) And then the waitress comes over, and by the time we've explained that yes, Fraser wears red, but he's a Mountie, not a fireman, and no, despite the name he doesn't ride horses, at least not regularly, I've totally lost my flow. "Anyway," I tell him, "It's more than just the wedding thing. It's like, I got all these memories, you know?" He nods. "Like, the first time we went on a date for real, it was a hot day like this and she was wearing this little blue dress, and her hair was loose, and she just looked so damn beautiful. Came running down the stairs, and she just looked so happy to see me." I'm getting all choked up, just thinking about it.

"Ah," he says. "Go on."

I swipe a hand across my eyes. Think I got something in 'em, it's dusty in here. "I dunno, Frase," I say. "There's something about this time of year that just makes me think about her for some reason. I see lilacs, I remember the wedding. I smell sunscreen, I remember taking her to the beach. I see kids in the park, I remember the time we played hooky from school and she went swimming in the Buckingham fountain. I dunno why, it doesn't make much sense." I'm staring at my coffee, and when I look up, he's got a weird expression on his face, which kinda bothers me. Here I am telling him all my Stella memories, and he's looking at me like I'm speaking Russian or something. Or one of those languages he doesn't speak. "What?" I say. "It's stupid, I know—"

"No, Ray, it makes perfect sense," he says, and he's back to being familiar polite-Mountie Fraser. "The brain is quite capable of creating associations between seemingly unrelated objects. In fact, for some people the sense of association is so strong that—"

"Yeah, yeah." I'm not in the mood for a Fraser lecture. "Don't worry about it, forget I said anything." He opens his mouth, but I hand him the bill. "Here, figure out how much we owe her, will ya?"

While he's distracted I slip Dief the last of my burger.

* * *

He's quiet, just picks up his hat and coat and walks behind me out the door, and I think maybe he's dropped it, for once. No luck, though; he picks up the conversation again once we're in the Goat.

"Is it simply this time of year?" he asks, sounding like he's picking his words.

"This time of year?" I roll down the windows, and Dief sticks his head outside and whuffs, but Fraser doesn't react, just turns a little in his seat and looks at me.

"That reminds you of her," he says. "As you said, you... associate... certain things with her, and I thought perhaps that when certain... triggers were no longer present, you might not think of her as often."

"Triggers," I say.

"Yes, Ray," he says, a little unhappily. "For example, the angle of the sun in the sky, and the plants in bloom, and the way the air smells." He makes a little gesture, presumably indicating the air, which does, in fact, smell like springtime in Chicago. "I thought that perhaps once the seasons changed you might find yourself less... affected."

"No, Fraser, no, I won't," I say, and slam my hand against the steering wheel. I really, really don't want to talk about this. "Come November I got a whole new list of things to act as triggers. A man in a bank hands me a fountain pen, I'm gonna think of signing the papers. I see a guy in a suit, I'm gonna think about the lawyer. It rains, Fraser," I say, and my voice sounds vicious, "it rains, and I'm gonna think about her. She kicked me out. Dumped my stuff in the hallway, changed the locks, fourteen years of marriage, that's it, game over, thanks for playing. And I'm standing there with a coupla suitcases and my stereo and it's fucking freezing out, and I gotta load up the Goat in the rain and go stay at a crappy motel for the night 'cause my wife decided she didn't love me no more!" I'm practically yelling by now, and Dief whimpers in the back seat. "I don't have to be reminded, all right? 'Cause let me tell ya, Fraser, it rains a hell of a lot in Chicago in November, and every goddamn time it does I'm gonna remember that Stella left me." I slam my hand on the wheel again, 'cause I promised myself I wasn't hitting him again.

"I'm sorry, Ray," he says quietly. He's looking out the window, not at me. "I thought perhaps..." He trails off. After a moment, he says, almost apologetically, "Well, Ray, it has been nearly two years."

I laugh a little, and he flinches. Guess it must not have been a good kind of laugh. "Thank you kindly for the reminder," I say, and put a little kick on the word, and he flinches again. "It don't matter, Fraser. Yeah, it's been two years, so what? That don't mean a good goddamn. You love somebody, two years do not mean a thing." I narrow my eyes at him. "You know that."

He turns to the window again. "Ah," he says. "Yes."

"Ah?" I ask him. "What does that mean, ah?"

He sighs. "Nothing, Ray," he says, and turns to the window again. "Understood."

* * *

Lyrics to Rain and Snow here.
You can hear a clip of the song for free at their website, here. Just search for "Rain and Snow."

ETA: Part two is here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

loz

Excellent! You're posting!

I really love this, it was a pleasure to be the first to read it. Bwahaha.

Then we have to detour for a moment for him to tell to me that he's not talking about needles like I thought. ("Syringa is the Latin name for the lilac, Ray," he says. "Use English, Fraser," I say.) --- perfect ;)

Fraser does listen to music. At least, in his own special way. I agree that he'd listen to the Be Good Tanyas too. Thanks for acquainting me with them.

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Songfic challenge: Sleep Dog Lullaby by riverlight

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