Letting Go
May. 31st, 2009 04:11 amIt's easier to talk in the darkness.
In the day there's so many damn distractions, the doctors coming in to read Fraser's chart, nurses adjusting his IV, other patients and their visitors going past the door - for all the talk of rest there's no peace in the hospital, and that makes it easier to talk about other things. Easier to change the subject. Because Victoria doesn't belong here, it's hard to even fit her into the same thoughts as the bland normality of the hospital, and that makes it easier to veer the conversation away every time it goes in a direction neither of them are ready to deal with.
But the darkness makes it different. It's not full dark, even this late at night, he can still see Fraser's face in the pale glow from the hallway and the eerie green tint of the monitors. But it's dim and it's still and it feels like it isn't real, like this is just a dream that will vanish with the dawn. It's enough to lower their defenses, and stop them edging around this like it's a bomb they'll set off if they say the wrong thing.
"I was going to go with her," Fraser says, like that's the secret that's hanging over them and driving them both crazy. Like Ray didn't know from the first time he saw them that Fraser would follow her to Hell if she smiled at him pretty. Like that's the thing that matters.
"I know," he says, because Fraser needs to hear it, even if it won't make him stop blaming himself. Like a guy can help who he falls in love with.
"I wasn't going to let you," he doesn't add. He's been not saying it for weeks, ever since the first night when Welsh dragged him away from the waiting room to get his statement and he didn't tell him. He didn't say it to Internal Affairs and he didn't say it to Frannie and he's not saying it to Fraser now or ever. But in the end, he knows where he aimed the gun, and he knows what he was thinking when he pulled the trigger. He knows what people are capable of doing for love.
Even in the darkness, some things are just too hard to say.
In the day there's so many damn distractions, the doctors coming in to read Fraser's chart, nurses adjusting his IV, other patients and their visitors going past the door - for all the talk of rest there's no peace in the hospital, and that makes it easier to talk about other things. Easier to change the subject. Because Victoria doesn't belong here, it's hard to even fit her into the same thoughts as the bland normality of the hospital, and that makes it easier to veer the conversation away every time it goes in a direction neither of them are ready to deal with.
But the darkness makes it different. It's not full dark, even this late at night, he can still see Fraser's face in the pale glow from the hallway and the eerie green tint of the monitors. But it's dim and it's still and it feels like it isn't real, like this is just a dream that will vanish with the dawn. It's enough to lower their defenses, and stop them edging around this like it's a bomb they'll set off if they say the wrong thing.
"I was going to go with her," Fraser says, like that's the secret that's hanging over them and driving them both crazy. Like Ray didn't know from the first time he saw them that Fraser would follow her to Hell if she smiled at him pretty. Like that's the thing that matters.
"I know," he says, because Fraser needs to hear it, even if it won't make him stop blaming himself. Like a guy can help who he falls in love with.
"I wasn't going to let you," he doesn't add. He's been not saying it for weeks, ever since the first night when Welsh dragged him away from the waiting room to get his statement and he didn't tell him. He didn't say it to Internal Affairs and he didn't say it to Frannie and he's not saying it to Fraser now or ever. But in the end, he knows where he aimed the gun, and he knows what he was thinking when he pulled the trigger. He knows what people are capable of doing for love.
Even in the darkness, some things are just too hard to say.