Thanks: Miriam's big shiny beta brain defies description: I am in awe.
Notes: This started off as a first-line flashfic for pearl_o, and then grew like magic beans in the night.
I hope this letter finds you well. I understand that we will be working together this afternoon on the Hughes case, so a written missive may seem gratuitous, since surely we could talk about whatever it is I wish to say. However, I am afraid that, should I ask you this in person, it would put you in an awkward position. Hence, the written word, while still difficult, is preferable.
Ray, there is a circumstance — a situation — developing, and it no longer seems fair to keep you in the dark about it. I must proceed — or not — with caution, but I must proceed. Or not. I assure you, Ray, nothing is immutable. If the situation discomforts you, I'm certain that steps can be taken to remedy it and return the state of affairs to its pre-situation situation.
Oh dear. Perhaps I should speak plainly.
Ever since you took asylum at the Consulate, I've been bereft. The nights here are long and empty, and too quiet. Diefenbaker provides some relief, but frankly his point of view is rather lupine. I miss your company, Ray. We see each other amidst the clutter of the day, this city pressing in against us with its crowds and noise and smells and reflective buildings, but we rarely spend time together alone and, well, I am sorry for that. I'm not entirely certain of your feelings on this matter — you have your own life to lead, after all — but I wonder whether you would consider the possibility of sharing an apartment with me. As room-mates. This would be quite economical, of course, and have a number of other advantages, not the least being that I am a competent cook and am even able to make green vegetables palatable. However, this suggestion may not suit your plans or desires, or you may not wish to suffer my constant presence. If that is the case, I will quite understand.
Diefenbaker sends his regards.
Fraser, you big freak
Why won't you talk about this face-to-face, huh?
My bet's you're
hiding som You know I Hate paperwork.
So, yeah, I got
your note, like I told you,
(you are so stubborn I could and I'm thinking about it. I got to Haven't had
a room-mate since before Forever, so I got no idea what kind of company I'd
be and, hell, I don't even kn
God, you're already threatening me with vegtables!
what's all this "suffer your presence" crap? You know you're my best
friend, so give it a rest OK. But yeah, I don't
know if my "plans and desires" square with us being roomies.
We got to talk about this, Fraser. OK? I've written this like you asked, bu
If we can't, we got a big problem. I'll come by later Marvin's at 8?
(For God's sake, leave me a phone message. These letters are fucked
stupid killing me.)
I hope you are well, and that the delayed effects of Marvin's beer aren't dulling your enjoyment of this fine day. I know you said to cease writing, so I'll keep this brief. I'm very pleased that you've agreed to my plan — despite your reservations — and, as I have a few hours to spare this afternoon, I will begin our search forthwith. In fact, I have already spoken to a Mrs Stanwyck, who is the landlady of a promising-sounding ground floor apartment not too far from your current domicile.
I promise you, you won't regret your decision. I am determined not to take any steps that would jeopardize our partnership.
So this is why the letters, huh?
So Cos it's easier to say the hard shit
stuff when I don't have to see your say it out loud. Hard stuff like this:
Sorry. I got icy cold feet here. I mean, you're keeping secrets (admit it!) and I
am too, and
it seems like I just don't want to fuck up put a spanner in our
works. You know what I mean? I can't afford to Maybe It's saf better
if we stay put. You got Dief to keep you company, and you know I'm always here any
time you need me, you can just call. I just Anytime.
Trust me on this. It's better
if we if I don't Shit!!! It's just better,
OK. I'm sorry.
I regret now that I ever raised the idea. You're right, it's safer — better — to keep circumstances as they are, and
No, I can't write that. I can't write it because I don't believe it to be true. You put your finger on the heart of the matter in your first missive when you wrote "these letters are fucked". I need to tell you things, Ray, that cannot be contained by ink and paper. I shy away from them, again and again, not for your sake but for my own.
As you know, my past has not given me reason to believe that situations can turn out for the best. However, I refuse to be cowed into helplessness. If you are still willing to be the recipient of my confidences — and, I should warn you, this may be a Pandora's box — I'll come by your apartment this evening.
To the Mountie
Oh now you want to talk. OK, fine. I'll be here.
Wish I could
see be here when you wake up ( fucki
stupid stakeout! 4 AM!) Make yourself at home — yeah, you know that already. Lo R.
I trust this letter finds you well. I'm sorry to be away from home for such a length of time, but there were complications at the RCMP Conference and a chase ensued, up the back stairwell and over several rooftops. Of course, it's been so long since I carried a firearm that I quite forgot I had my pistol. The doctor is making a mountain out of a molehill, and has insisted that I should avoid travel until my bullet wound — it's barely a scratch — has healed. I tried to argue, but unfortunately Inspector Thatcher overheard the discussion and ordered me to complete some neglected paperwork dating back to the mid-eighties. I fear you've been a bad influence on me, Ray, as I had a hard time not answering back when the Inspector gave the command. I managed to restrain myself, and merely thought my sarcastic remarks, but I must have betrayed myself somehow because the Inspector broke with all tradition and added "please" to her request.
Still, I am both chair- and office-bound. I am also due to appear before the RCMP Adjudication Board on Thursday to testify against Constable Atkins.
Today's Canada provides a host of new experiences, which overlay the memories I have of my family and the friends of my childhood. It was invigorating to revisit old haunts and to encounter the native wildlife in its habitat once more — fewer caribou than I expected; the salmon are spawning; and a family of wolves have moved into the broken-down shed next to my father's cabin. But despite your concerns, I find I've no desire to remain here. I suppose I have acclimatized to Chicago. I have certainly become entirely reliant on you, Ray. I can't imagine life without you. (That's not quite true, but the prospect is sufficiently bleak that I try not to dwell on it.)
I will be home in twelve days and my impatience to see you and Diefenbaker again is turning each day into a week, if not more. Forgive me if this seems overly sentimental: I suspect the arctic winds have frozen parts of my frontal lobe. I look forward to a Chicago thaw.