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ds_flashfiction2008-06-26 08:44 pm
aingeal8c.livejournal.com) wrote in ds_flashfiction2008-06-26 08:44 pm
Entry tags:
Midsummer Amnesty 2008: Five challenge by Aingeal
Title: Four Times Fraser Needed a Hug and One Time He Got One
Author: Aingeal
Pairing: gen & Fraser/Vecchio (at the very end)
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1376
Summary: Sometimes one can crave a physical touch.
Notes: Nipping in at the last minute..
Four Times Fraser Needed a Hug and One Time He Got One
1.
Six years old, sitting on his bed. He's wearing his best clothes, a suit. Tears stream down his face as he tries to compose himself. His father will be in soon, it's nearly time for the funeral, time to say goodbye to his mother for the last time. He misses her, he misses her smile, her kiss, the way she smelled, but most of all he misses the way she used to hug him.
His mother's hugs were always warm, caring, they made him feel better after he'd grazed his knee or when he was feeling ill. His mother hugging him now would make all the bad things he's feeling go away. She would be here, with him. It hurts to know that his mother will never be able to hug him again.
He dries his eyes on the handkerchief his father has given him. He can't cry in front of his father, his father hasn't cried at all since his mother died, so he won't cry. He puts his handkerchief back in his pocket and goes to stand by the door. As it opens and his father appears, he wishes he could have a hug. He closes his eyes and turns back toward the bed, but his mother isn't there. His father's hand on his shoulder is come comfort, but nothing compared to a hug.
2.
His grandmother has finished bandaging his wound. It still hurts though, where the otter hit him. He is still not sure why he was hit with an otter. He can't think of any reason for him to be singled out. Maybe it's because he is different, because he is white, because he hasn't lived there as long as some. Perhaps because he he sits quietly during recess and reads. He doesn't know. All he knows is; it hurts.
Although it hurts his grandmother tells him it's not too serious. She talks about how it's torn into some muscle and it may scar. She's telling him the doctor will be out to look at it tomorrow and there's nothing else she can do. There is one thing that Fraser wants her to do but he can't ask for it. All he wants is a hug.
He could ask for a hug and he knows his grandmother might give him one, but he would have to ask, and he can't ask. He is too embarrassed to ask really. He doesn't want to seem like he needs it. Many times his father has told him that young men don't need hugs, so he never asks for one. He doesn't want to let his father down by making it seem that he's selfish enough to ask for a hug. Though, as his grandmother closes the door behind her as she leaves, for a brief moment Fraser wishes he had asked her for that hug.
3.
Sitting alone in the barracks Fraser reflects on his new world. He is left alone, the other cadets have gone out to celebrate. He would go with them but there is something inside himself that prevents him. He needs to get an early night, the graduation tomorrow is a big day and he wants to be ready. His father might be there, according to the letter he holds in his hands.
Training has been tough, but he had been prepared for that. He's excelled himself, finishing top of his class. He hopes his father is proud of him. He has few friends here, the social side of life during basic training has eluded him. That is why he is sitting on his bed, reading a letter that provides a little comfort in his solitude.
Tomorrow his father might be present. If he is, he might lay a hand on his shoulder, he might say how proud he is of his son. Fraser hopes so. The other cadet's families will be there too, they will have parents, partners, there to congratulate them, perhaps hug them. He knows the one thing he won't get tomorrow is a hug. For once he would like one from his father. Nothing too serious, just a simple hug of a father to his son, a sign of affection perhaps. He knows his father loves him, he doesn't need a hug, but still he wishes he would get one.
He wraps his arms around himself as turns in for the night, an echo of the thing he sees others indulge in, and envies them for it.
4.
The news of his father's death has come as a shock, he's never thought of his father as being mortal in many ways. To Fraser his father was larger than life, a legend he has strived to live up throughout his career. Now his father's career, his father's life, is over and Fraser is left without a blood relative in the world.
He's sitting on the bed in his father's cabin, going through a lifetime of memories. He never got the chance to tell is father how much he meant to him. He will never get the chance now. He's read so many of his father's journals, finally realising what he's lost. One thing stands out above all of it. He never hugged his father.
He realises that his father perhaps wouldn't have appreciated a hug but holding in his hands a picture of the two them, he can't help but see the distance between them. They were apart even though they were standing next to each other. For years he has believed that the distance was a healthy respect but in truth he's been afraid. Afraid of his father's reaction to a hug.
The photograph goes back in the trunk as he remembers things from his childhood, seeing glimpses of it in every object in the trunk. He picks up a photograph of his parents together, one of the few he has seen. He wonders if his mother ever hugged his father. He can't remember that much affection between his parents. As he goes through the meagre possessions his father owns he wishes his father was there, simply so he could hug him, not caring about the consequences, just to try and show him he loved him. Maybe, just maybe, his father would hug him back.
5.
The cabin seems strangely empty and he knows why. He's alone again. So much has happened in his life but, as always, he is left alone. He pushes people away without realising, that was what had cut short the adventure and left him to rebuild the cabin alone. He always thought it would be Ray Vecchio who would be there with him when the last log was laid but Ray Vecchio is far away, he has his own life.
He can't help but feel slightly betrayed by the actions of his friend, their joyful reunion seemingly coming to nothing. He thought he was homesick, that coming home amongst the snow and rocks trees would rejuvenate him but although physically it has emotionally there is a piece missing. A piece that as far he knows is happy in Florida.
He barely hears the knock at the door, he's not expecting company. He strides over to it, taking his father's rifle with him as a precaution. He flings open the door and there, in front of him, is the piece he is missing. Wordlessly he puts the rifle down, tries not to drop it. He has a thousand words he wants to say and a hundred ways to say them but he stays silent.
Then he feels the strong arms of Ray Vecchio envelop him, a warm, loving hug. He returns it gratefully, taking comfort in the fact that this physical touch means it's real, Ray is here, with him. His eyes are blurring a little as he reveals in the hug, in a physical touch he feared he would never have again. Time seems to stand still as the six year old child missing his mother, the ten year old child in pain, the young cadet wanting a hug, the man who had lost his father and the man mourning the absence of his lover are all comforted by a hug full of comfort and hope and love.
Author: Aingeal
Pairing: gen & Fraser/Vecchio (at the very end)
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1376
Summary: Sometimes one can crave a physical touch.
Notes: Nipping in at the last minute..
Four Times Fraser Needed a Hug and One Time He Got One
1.
Six years old, sitting on his bed. He's wearing his best clothes, a suit. Tears stream down his face as he tries to compose himself. His father will be in soon, it's nearly time for the funeral, time to say goodbye to his mother for the last time. He misses her, he misses her smile, her kiss, the way she smelled, but most of all he misses the way she used to hug him.
His mother's hugs were always warm, caring, they made him feel better after he'd grazed his knee or when he was feeling ill. His mother hugging him now would make all the bad things he's feeling go away. She would be here, with him. It hurts to know that his mother will never be able to hug him again.
He dries his eyes on the handkerchief his father has given him. He can't cry in front of his father, his father hasn't cried at all since his mother died, so he won't cry. He puts his handkerchief back in his pocket and goes to stand by the door. As it opens and his father appears, he wishes he could have a hug. He closes his eyes and turns back toward the bed, but his mother isn't there. His father's hand on his shoulder is come comfort, but nothing compared to a hug.
2.
His grandmother has finished bandaging his wound. It still hurts though, where the otter hit him. He is still not sure why he was hit with an otter. He can't think of any reason for him to be singled out. Maybe it's because he is different, because he is white, because he hasn't lived there as long as some. Perhaps because he he sits quietly during recess and reads. He doesn't know. All he knows is; it hurts.
Although it hurts his grandmother tells him it's not too serious. She talks about how it's torn into some muscle and it may scar. She's telling him the doctor will be out to look at it tomorrow and there's nothing else she can do. There is one thing that Fraser wants her to do but he can't ask for it. All he wants is a hug.
He could ask for a hug and he knows his grandmother might give him one, but he would have to ask, and he can't ask. He is too embarrassed to ask really. He doesn't want to seem like he needs it. Many times his father has told him that young men don't need hugs, so he never asks for one. He doesn't want to let his father down by making it seem that he's selfish enough to ask for a hug. Though, as his grandmother closes the door behind her as she leaves, for a brief moment Fraser wishes he had asked her for that hug.
3.
Sitting alone in the barracks Fraser reflects on his new world. He is left alone, the other cadets have gone out to celebrate. He would go with them but there is something inside himself that prevents him. He needs to get an early night, the graduation tomorrow is a big day and he wants to be ready. His father might be there, according to the letter he holds in his hands.
Training has been tough, but he had been prepared for that. He's excelled himself, finishing top of his class. He hopes his father is proud of him. He has few friends here, the social side of life during basic training has eluded him. That is why he is sitting on his bed, reading a letter that provides a little comfort in his solitude.
Tomorrow his father might be present. If he is, he might lay a hand on his shoulder, he might say how proud he is of his son. Fraser hopes so. The other cadet's families will be there too, they will have parents, partners, there to congratulate them, perhaps hug them. He knows the one thing he won't get tomorrow is a hug. For once he would like one from his father. Nothing too serious, just a simple hug of a father to his son, a sign of affection perhaps. He knows his father loves him, he doesn't need a hug, but still he wishes he would get one.
He wraps his arms around himself as turns in for the night, an echo of the thing he sees others indulge in, and envies them for it.
4.
The news of his father's death has come as a shock, he's never thought of his father as being mortal in many ways. To Fraser his father was larger than life, a legend he has strived to live up throughout his career. Now his father's career, his father's life, is over and Fraser is left without a blood relative in the world.
He's sitting on the bed in his father's cabin, going through a lifetime of memories. He never got the chance to tell is father how much he meant to him. He will never get the chance now. He's read so many of his father's journals, finally realising what he's lost. One thing stands out above all of it. He never hugged his father.
He realises that his father perhaps wouldn't have appreciated a hug but holding in his hands a picture of the two them, he can't help but see the distance between them. They were apart even though they were standing next to each other. For years he has believed that the distance was a healthy respect but in truth he's been afraid. Afraid of his father's reaction to a hug.
The photograph goes back in the trunk as he remembers things from his childhood, seeing glimpses of it in every object in the trunk. He picks up a photograph of his parents together, one of the few he has seen. He wonders if his mother ever hugged his father. He can't remember that much affection between his parents. As he goes through the meagre possessions his father owns he wishes his father was there, simply so he could hug him, not caring about the consequences, just to try and show him he loved him. Maybe, just maybe, his father would hug him back.
5.
The cabin seems strangely empty and he knows why. He's alone again. So much has happened in his life but, as always, he is left alone. He pushes people away without realising, that was what had cut short the adventure and left him to rebuild the cabin alone. He always thought it would be Ray Vecchio who would be there with him when the last log was laid but Ray Vecchio is far away, he has his own life.
He can't help but feel slightly betrayed by the actions of his friend, their joyful reunion seemingly coming to nothing. He thought he was homesick, that coming home amongst the snow and rocks trees would rejuvenate him but although physically it has emotionally there is a piece missing. A piece that as far he knows is happy in Florida.
He barely hears the knock at the door, he's not expecting company. He strides over to it, taking his father's rifle with him as a precaution. He flings open the door and there, in front of him, is the piece he is missing. Wordlessly he puts the rifle down, tries not to drop it. He has a thousand words he wants to say and a hundred ways to say them but he stays silent.
Then he feels the strong arms of Ray Vecchio envelop him, a warm, loving hug. He returns it gratefully, taking comfort in the fact that this physical touch means it's real, Ray is here, with him. His eyes are blurring a little as he reveals in the hug, in a physical touch he feared he would never have again. Time seems to stand still as the six year old child missing his mother, the ten year old child in pain, the young cadet wanting a hug, the man who had lost his father and the man mourning the absence of his lover are all comforted by a hug full of comfort and hope and love.