InsaneJournal

Tweak says, ""ru/18?""

Inspector Meg Thatcher, RCMP (megthatcher) wrote in utr_logs,
@ 2009-02-08 18:49:00

Entry tags:

constable benton fraser, inspector meg thatcher

Who: Constable Benton Fraser and Inspector Meg Thatcher
When: Two days after this post
What: Fraser returns from Toronto
Where: Safehouse in London
Warnings: None

Fraser had seemed even more subdued than usual when Inspector Thatcher had picked him up at Heathrow. Tactfully, she had not tried to draw him out on the subject of his trip, which meant that the trip back to the flat was silent. Aside from Diefenbaker's vocalisations. The wolf demonstrated a remarkable range of noises.

Perhaps now that they are back inside the flat, he will open up to her. Or at least say something.

Please. This is Benton Fraser.

But she cannot prompt him to speak. He must choose to speak. It must be his decision. So instead she sits on the couch with the laptop and begins reviewing--for the hundredth time--the latest files from CSIS.

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chicagomountie
2009-02-08 10:58 pm UTC (link)

Diefenbaker has taken up a position opposite Fraser while he sits at the table, glaring pointedly at him as he lies there, on his coat, with the kind of determination only a wolf can muster.

Accusing.

Fraser is ignoring him. Loudly. Or perhaps he's just absorbed in his thoughts. He has come back with more than he'd anticipated; a hardcover guitar case leans in the corner by the front door, though he hasn't looked at it or said a word about it.

He's poring over world event material now, but the text on the pages isn't really registering. He has a great deal on his mind, and he hasn't even begun to really sift through it. All he can think about is how his presence here, unwitting though it is, has meant loss for others.

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	megthatcher 2009-02-08 11:00 pm UTC (link)
	Damn. Being patient is difficult when it comes to Fraser. "I'm in the mood for a little ... tea," she says. Actually she'd prefer coffee, but she knows his preference for tea. "Would you care for a cup?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

chicagomountie
2009-02-08 11:09 pm UTC (link)

Fraser looks up, his usual alert nature somewhat hampered by fatigue after the long plane flight. He's used to bringing her coffee in the mornings at the Consulate, a habit he engaged in early on as he acted more like a gopher than a Constable, in an attempt to show her he was capable, efficient.

Worthy.

"Yes, thank you," he says.

It's almost like they're strangers once more, in a way. He has pulled within himself, reluctant-- or perhaps incapable-- of putting forth into words the innumerable feelings that he keeps an airtight lock upon. He watches her back as she walks into the kitchen space, then looks down at the pages of text before him again.

"I hope Diefenbaker wasn't too much trouble," he says.

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	megthatcher 2009-02-08 11:12 pm UTC (link)
	"We came to an understanding," she says as she puts the kettle on to boil and begins measuring out loose tea with a spoon. "But he missed you very much." So did I. Should she say that? She compromises: "He wasn't the only one." (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

chicagomountie
2009-02-08 11:20 pm UTC (link)

Nowhere near as much as they'll miss their father, or as much as she will miss her husband, he doesn't say.

He'd left the wedding ring behind just before he left, placed near the family photographs on the table near the door. To allow her to grieve in private. He knew that a personal handover would be to ask too much of both of them. He'd wanted to try and minimise the suffering, not add to it.

It takes him longer to look up this time. "Thank you for taking care of him. I'm sure he appreciates it."

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megthatcher
2009-02-08 11:24 pm UTC (link)

"You're welcome."

The kettle begins to whistle, and she pours the boiling water into the teapot. Once the steeping time is over, she pours two cups and carries them into the living room. "Here. I hope you don't mind Darjeeling."

She knows it won't do any good to ask him if he wants to talk about it. But she wishes he would. For his own sake, and not merely to satisfy her curiosity.

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chicagomountie
2009-02-08 11:32 pm UTC (link)

She'd offered him tea. He'd declined. He hadn't even taken a seat, preferring to remain standing for the duration; an attempt to maintain professionalism and to enable a hasty retreat if necessary, the better to let those walls crumble behind closed doors and drawn curtains without him there. He had seen it in her eyes, and known what was to come, for it reminded him too much of his own way of coping. Only, he never truly copes. He just shuts it away in a neat little box, and pretends it didn't happen.

He can't do that right now.

He makes a brief facial shrug. "No, that's fine."

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megthatcher
2009-02-08 11:39 pm UTC (link)

In her own career, she had had to notify families when a loved one had been the victim of a traffic collision or a homicide. At first she had thought the worst times were when the survivors swore at her, or began breaking things, unable to bear the thought that glass or china could last longer than flesh.

Later on she had realised that the worst times were where the grieving would happen behind closed doors, and perhaps in the dark, where no one could see.

She sets the cup on the table in front of him, then takes the chair across from him. Patience. Acceptance. Support.

If only he'll let her be here for him....

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chicagomountie
2009-02-08 11:52 pm UTC (link)

It had reminded him too much of the look in his grandfather's eyes when he'd taken him aside and told him his mother wasn't coming home.

Six years old, and he hadn't wept then. The books in his room bore silent witness to his grief. They wouldn't tell.

And then his father had stopped coming home, too.

There's a dull, persistent ache rising in his chest, and he tries viciously to deny it. To focus on another instead of himself.

"Has CSIS given you any more information regarding this posting?"

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	megthatcher 2009-02-08 11:55 pm UTC (link)
	She blows across the surface of her teacup. "Minimal, though they've implied that they think it would be a good idea for me to work on cases related to my past experience with fraud cases." She makes a rueful face. "Chasing numbers. Doesn't exactly get the blood pumping the way fieldwork does." (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	chicagomountie 2009-02-08 11:58 pm UTC (link)
	He frowns. "It would seem to be a gross underutilisation of your talents." (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	megthatcher 2009-02-09 12:00 am UTC (link)
	"Deliberately so, I suspect. A provocative assignment." She sips at her tea. "I don't relish the idea of being chained to a desk pouring over spreadsheets every day. I wonder if they'll leave me there forever, or wait for me to request a transfer? Or resign?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	chicagomountie 2009-02-09 12:03 am UTC (link)
	The frown deepens. "Surely it would just make more sense to permit you to return to the Force, in that case?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	megthatcher 2009-02-09 01:24 pm UTC (link)
	"I know," she says with a small, sympathetic smile. "Why don't you get some rest?" She nods at the bedroom. "I still have a few things I want to finish tonight. I may not turn in for a while ... I could sleep on the couch, to avoid disturbing you when I'm done." To give him privacy. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)