by Lazuli

Part 6 ~ The Gun

On consideration, it wasn’t surprising that Ben’s sleep was interrupted by nightmares after such a taxing day. Ray had experienced a degree of this at the IRF, but tonight it was bad and consistent enough for Ray to insist they wake up at four in the morning for a break in the turmoil and disruptions. Both exhausted, the option to talk everything over seemed way too complicated and, once again, Ray was reminded he was lacking in the kind of skills Ben needed to get through his trauma. The one thing he could do though, was turn on the bedside lamp, and sit up with the puzzle book.

“One across…” Ben groaned, and Ray ignored him. “’Bursting into flower’. Is that blooming?” He counted the squares. “Nope. Ten letters. ‘Bursting into flower’. It can’t be flowering because that’s in the clue.” Ray looked across at Ben, who gave a limp shrug against the pillows. “One down… ‘Gift of a wise man, twelve letters’. Think it means the obvious?”

“What’s obvious?”

“The gold, frankincense and myrrh guys.” Ben shrugged again and gave in to a massive yawn. “I’m writing it in. So, one across starts with F. Damn it, where’s Chantelle when you need her?”

“Who?”

“The woman on reception at the IRF.”

“I imagine she’s on the reception at the IRF.”

“Very funny.”

“Just look at the answers, they’re in the back of the book.”

“You giving up?”

“Yes.”

Ray flicked to the back of the book.

“‘Florescent’ he read aloud. “Isn’t that a light bulb? What’s that to do with flowers?”

“Spell it.” Ray did. “Light bulbs are fluorescent, with a U.”

A deafening pause, then Ray threw the book across the room. At least that raised a smile from his companion.

“What now?” Ben asked.

“I don’t know. Do we need to get you drunk enough to pass out and sleep the entire night?”

“I wouldn’t do well with being further incapacitated.”

“I know, I’m not serious.”

“It’s not usually this bad. It’s probably the changes.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely the changes. I hoped you’d feel better here.”

“I expect I will. It’s early days.”

“You know you have PTSD,” Ray flatly stated rather than asked.

“I know,” Ben replied in much the same tone.

“I hate seeing you like this, I wish I could help you. Fix you.”

“You can’t fix me.”

“I know. But I…” Ray paused, his thoughts taking him back to someone he did help fix. “I’m going to attempt to bore you to sleep,” he warned.

“Thank you kindly.”

That suited both of them; they settled down and got comfortable.

“There was this woman who used to come into the bowling alley, and she used to steal stuff. Not from customers but from the establishment, so…from me.”

“No power of arrest. That must have gone down well.”

“You’d think, wouldn’t you. But, know what? When I took a good look at her, I didn’t care. She was broke, bereaved or abandoned by everyone she knew, at her wits end and spending her nights in a dumpster, so I didn’t care what she took. Within reason. She was eighty pounds soaking wet so I’d’ve liked to see her trying to get a bowling ball out of the alley under her skirt. If it was an old pair of shoes that weren’t returned to the kiosk, fine. Sometimes when we were restocking cans of soda, chances were a couple would go missing if she passed by. The situation made me think of you, and how you would have found a way to help her. So I tried leaving a few bucks on the counter when I saw her come in, and… I saw her look, and she walked straight past. As if, if it was money, then it would be stealing.”

Ben’s interest was piqued.

“What did you do?”

“Took a while, but I befriended her, gave her a job, and let her live in a room over the stockroom. Bought her a bed and some drawers; she didn’t want anything else. She got to use the employees facilities, so she was able to shower, and wash her clothes for the first time in who knows how long. She also got the branded polo shirts, and you should have seen her glow with pride every time she put one on. She was my tidy-upper. She got to keep any loose change people had left behind, and she wasn’t too proud to take a half eaten hot dog, or a half finished Coke, but she also got paid.”

“Once you’d’ve called it pity pay.”

“Maybe. But it turned things around for her, and keeping her on was a condition when I sold up. And all through this I kept thinking of you, and you being so far away. I don’t know why I wanted you to tell me I’d done a good thing, but I did. You’d given me that look of yours so often for being cheap, and… I wanted you to know. And now I’ve finally told you.”

Ray waited expectantly

“You did a very good thing,” Ben obliged.

“Proud of me?”

“Always.”

“Really?”

“Don’t you know that?”

“Clearly not.”

There was a loaded pause.

“Did I take you for granted, Ray?”

“Why do you ask?”

“At the time I would have said no. But now…”

Ben gave half a shrug.

“C’mon Benny, defend yourself.”

“My fight or flight appears to be non-functional. In every way.”

“Interesting you should bring that up…”

“No psycho-babble, if you please.”

“So you know?”

“Ray… If you moved to the sofa at least you’d get some sleep tonight. And perhaps tomorrow you could put your bed back in the spare room.”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

“We don’t both need to suffer.”

“Not going to happen. Anyway, it’s hardly suffering, it’s a sleepless night, we’ve survived worse.”

It was a while before Ben answered, thoughtfully,

“That we have.”

…

If the morning’s support workers wondered why the two men were presenting as zombies, they were kind enough not to mention it. In fact, their presence lifted the atmosphere considerably. Full of cheerful banter with one another, along with the male worker being slightly built, Hispanic, and entirely unthreatening, they helped the session pass very agreeably.

When Ben was being taught how to use the overbed sling, he called Ray in to study the procedure in case help was needed later, and it gave Ray the chance to check a few other things before Ben acted on his decision to cancel all further visits from support workers. Ray made copious notes, from most suitable clothing for a wheelchair user, to exercise equipment, to food supplements, to relaxation techniques for peaceful nights.

Ben had disengaged by this point, and Ray tried to fool himself it was due to exhaustion rather than being too depressed about his situation to give a damn about practicalities.

Once left to their own devices, they had toast for breakfast, too weary to go to the effort of cooking anything more substantial, and Ray broke it to Ben that he had to go out for a while. The too familiar dread flashed in Ben’s eyes before being hastily covered by mask of coping.

“Of course, that’s fine, I can manage.”

“I know you can, but I wouldn’t be going out unless I had to, and…”

“Really, Ray, I have to… I don’t know what I have to, but I can’t expect you to put everything else on hold while I’m so…uncomfortable,” he settled for.

“Want me to see if I can get someone to come and keep you company? You liked Graham, and he might…”

“No. Really. No.”

Ray nodded, accepting that decision and moving on to his next suggestion, despite the flutter of unease in his chest.

“I’ll leave my gun here. Don’t tell me not to.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Ben answered directly.

Ray braced himself.

“I have to ask…”

“It’s purely for protection. Not even that, not really, we’ll say it’s for my peace of mind.” Ben met Ray’s eyes and told him sincerely, “You have nothing to worry about.”

“I had to ask.”

“I know,” Ben said lightly, almost casually enough to start Ray worrying again, but he had to take Ben at his word, or the whole day would be unbearable.

Shortly before he was due to leave, Ray received a call from Max Hemmell in Florida about a case Ray had handed over before he left. Ben blatantly eavesdropped on the discussion, unable to batten down his natural curiosity, even if he was only hearing one side of the conversation. It gave Ray an idea.

“Max, I’m going to call you back on another line, give me a minute.” Ray cancelled the call on his cell phone and turned to Ben. “That was a detective I worked with in Florida. There’s a case that’s ongoing, I knew it best but it’s a clusterfuck, and Max needs a second opinion. That’s going to be you.”

“But I don’t know anything about it.”

“Luckily Max likes to talk, and talk, and talk. Time to use your skills, Constable.”

Ray called Max from the land line, explaining his proposal.

“This guy is a serving officer in the RCMP, at home with an injury and bored out of his mind. … Well, don’t use details then, use hypotheticals. … You’re happy for… … Thought so. His name’s Benton Fraser, and he’ll let you have any other details you need to keep the boss happy if anything comes out of this that you want to share.” Ray held his hand over the mouthpiece. “Benny, I’ll be back before Max is on page six. If not, call me if you need anything.”

Ben was already reaching for the handset, clearly intrigued and eager to be useful.

Ray made a show of making sure the windows and patio doors were secure then, having ensured the safety catch was engaged, he tucked his gun into the wheelchair alongside Ben, gesturing that he’d lock the front door behind him and setting off on his errands. The fact that Ben had seen him off with a smile and a nod was hugely significant, and Ray whispered a few words of thanks to Max, across the miles.

First off, Ray drove to the car hire outlet to exchange vehicles. His saloon was upgraded to a customised SUV, not an inconveniently huge model but spacious enough for what he needed, and Ray appreciated that the sales clerk not only explained, but also demonstrated, how much easier it would be for a wheelchair user to manage, with the extra space, better height, and wider doorways. There was even a swivel seat included to help rotate someone into the vehicle.

Still sitting on the forecourt, it was time to check for messages, Ray bracing himself for the usual disappointing lack of anything about Diefenbaker. He’d had a few messages from people who wanted the reward despite having no credible information, and he was starting to wish he’d taken Miriam’s advice on that. He really didn’t want to have to ask Ben whether the wolf was alive or dead, as potentially nothing good would come of it: he’d either be mourning the loss, or start worrying about the current whereabouts. Still, Ray found it very strange that Ben hadn’t mentioned Diefenbaker, other than the one time Ray had brought the wolf up when asking about Ben’s trip with Ray Kowalski.

Next was a visit to a phone store. Ray bought Ben the same model as he had, simply because he couldn’t bear the thought of having to learn how to set up an unfamiliar phone. His one concession was buying a different coloured case for it. Mountie red was appropriate, he thought.

The last task on his mental list was a little trickier, but once he’d found a phone booth and laid hands on a directory he was able to track down a store that dealt with mobility equipment. With one eye on the clock, Ray detailed what he needed, trying to respond to questions he never imagined he’d need the answers to. Eventually a suitable electric wheelchair was selected, and that would be delivered the next day.

Time to take a breather, and Ray phoned the bungalow’s landline, happy to hear it was still engaged. In the past he’d cursed Max and his ability to talk at an Olympic level; today he was full of appreciation.

Food shopping, done at breakneck speed, and Ray was throwing anything that might possibly be useful, appetising, or full of protein and calories to fuel Ben’s weakened muscles, in the cart. He paused in front of the herbal sedatives. Potential for a good night’s sleep? Ben didn’t want to take the medication from the IRF so was it worth a shot? Yeah, why not – they went in the cart too.

Then on to the non-food aisles. Reminded by the recent conversation about the bowling alley’s games room, table games joined the groceries: cards, scrabble, checkers, battleships, dominoes. Monopoly already being off the table – no pun intended - the only other option he avoided was another puzzle book.

While he was paused in thought, wondering what essential he’d forgotten, a call came through: a friendly voice from the Canadian Consulate, proposing to deliver Ben’s property within the hour. Ray accepted the offer, and barely kept within the speed limit as he rushed home.

As suspected, Ben was still on the phone as Ray walked in the door; he gestured for Ben to carry on, recognising aspects of the case as Ben theorised and dissected. He noticed Ben’s hand drift to the gun while the door was left open, but other than that seemingly unconscious action, Ben seemed resigned about letting Ray bring in the shopping without locking up between visits to the car.

Finishing the call as Ray locked the front door behind him, Ben offered a helping hand but Ray sent him to the kitchen table.

“Max said to tell you that the missing man you and he had been trying to locate before you left did indeed turn up in a hotel room with his latest girlfriend.”

“I knew it. See, this is why Florida is wrong for cop me rather than bowling alley me.”

“I do see that.”

“How’d you get on with the other business?”

“That’s a fascinating and somewhat disturbing case,” Ben observed as Ray brought a mug of coffee to rehydrate him after the extended call.

“Was I wrong to get you involved? You probably don’t need to be any more disturbed.”

“On the contrary, I think I might have been able to help.”

“That’s great.”

“I told Max he could call back anytime.”

“Well, you’ve made that rod for your own back. He’ll take that as an invitation to talk baseball at you for six hours a day.”

Ben chuckled at that, and Ray decided to let him find out for himself that the comment wasn’t a joke.

“That’s a lot of groceries,” Ben said as he gestured toward the piles of bags on the counter tops. “Can I help put everything away?”

“Maybe.” Ben looked a question. “Your apartment stuff is being delivered. I thought you might want to catch up with the guy who’s bringing it.”

“Oh. I suppose…” The sentence trailed off, Ben looking anything other than enthused.

“Or I can bring it in while you take care of the groceries.”

“I’d prefer that. I’d like to have an idea of where everything is being stored.”

“Sure,” Ray smiled, not sounding anywhere like as cynical as he felt as he pretended to accept Ben’s blatant excuse. “Your phone’s in that pile somewhere.”

“Thank you.”

“Want to give me my gun back now?”

“No.”

“Piece of mind?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to buy you one of your own?” Ben paused to consider that, and Ray gave up waiting for the internal argument to run its course. “When you decide, let me know.”

A short while later, when Ray returned from the hallway, having taken receipt of three boxes from the Consulate, Ben was staring at several items left on the counter.

“Where should we put these?” Ben asked of the sedatives.

“I don’t know. You think they might help?”

“I don’t want to be in a situation where I have trouble waking up.”

“I doubt they’re that strong,” Ray answered amiably, fighting down the urge to ask the kind of questions he’d promised himself he wouldn’t. ‘What are you afraid of?’ was so close to the surface it was all he could do to focus on the question at hand. “Night stand?”

“Trash can?”

“I might need them.”

“Night stand,” Ben conceded. He picked up a package that looked vaguely plant-based, but also disturbingly meaty. “And what’s this?”

“I don’t know, it just said healthy on the label. I thought we could experiment, then throw it in the trash and call out for pizza.”

“And this?”

“I think it’s a type of noodle. It may be…”

Ben was already tossing the item in question into a drawer full of other dry goods.

“And this?”

“Forget that for now. Do you want to unpack the boxes from your apartment?”

“No. Can you put them in the spare room?”

“Sure. You don’t want any of your clothes unpacked?”

Ray watched Ben’s mood crash in real time.

“I’m tired. I think I’d like to rest.”

“Need a hand?”

“No. I’ll practise what I’ve been taught.”

Ray watched Ben wheel himself away and contemplated going after him for the gun. But he trusted Ben not to shoot himself, and where would they be without trust?

Ray gave it ten minutes, then went and retrieved his gun.

…

Ben napped in bed; Ray napped on the sofa. Mid-afternoon Ray went into Ben with a drink and, there he was, staring into space and looking like his world was ending.

“Can I get you anything else?” Ray asked, “or is that me being too annoying and pussyfooting?”

“Can you check the garden without going out there?”

Ray chose not to ask questions, just did as he was asked, peering out of a couple of windows before quickly returning.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“What’s ordinary?”

“Crows squabbling on the fence. I made the mistake of throwing some scraps out earlier and now we’ve got a turf war.”

“That could be useful. If they take up residence they’d make a huge amount of noise if someone attempted to climb the fence.”

Ray needed a second to take that in.

“No-one’s going to be climbing the fence,” he insisted. “Have you seen how high it is? These places are made to be secure and private.”

“Still…”

“If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll take a look outside.”

“No!” Ben exclaimed in a panic.

“There’s no problem,” Ray promised, picking his gun up from where it had been left in the wheelchair.

“Please, Ray, don’t, just…”

“You’ll feel better for this,” Ray told Ben firmly, appalled by the fear on his face but knowing he had to do this, to prove that they were safe, or find out the hard way that they were not.

Ray released the safety catch on his gun before opening the front door, checking he had his keys before closing it behind him. On high alert he made his way around the bungalow, peering around corners and into shrubberies, weapon poised as he moved into each new area.

“God knows what the neighbours think,” he muttered to himself, before making a swift but guarded turn into the last section of the perimeter, and then again to the front.

Then he once again repeated the circuit, looking for any signs that someone had been loitering outside any windows or interfering with any aspect of the property. Finally lowering his gun he stopped and stared around. Nothing. No-one. It was such a quiet little place, any odd presence or behaviour would stand out a mile.

“It’s only me,” Ray called as he let himself back into the bungalow, going straight to the bedroom and, after re-engaging the safety catch, placing his gun back in Ben’s chair.

Ben was, expectedly, a quivering wreck who was trying desperately hard not to show it.

“Nothing,” Ray assured him. “We’re safe here.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well, I’ll take a good guess.”

Ray picked up Ben’s mug.

“Let me get you some fresh.”

Once in the kitchen Ray topped up Ben’s mug and paused long enough to roll the knots out of his shoulders, and reprimand himself for buying into Ben’s paranoia.

“Here,” Ray offered Ben his coffee. He didn’t take it.

“Really nothing?”

“Really nothing.”

“I didn’t know, I… Thank you.”

At last Ray saw Ben accept the reassurance and start to calm down.

“I was serious about lights and cameras, I’ll arrange that. An alarm system will be more reliable than the local bird population.”

“The birds will activate the lights and that’ll be more stressful.”

“Then what?” Ray demanded with barely contained exasperation. “What do I do?”

Ben didn’t answer, but the flicker of realisation that crossed his face suggested that he’d taken on board Ray’s difficulties. Showing willing, at least where the coffee was concerned, he used the grab rail over the bed and clumsily hauled himself into a sitting position. It took every fibre of Ray’s being not to offer to help, but Ben managed, albeit with quite a lot of huffing and puffing, looking very satisfied with himself when he was upright and the mug was handed over.

“I appreciate you letting me do that without interference,” Ben said with an almost smile, not realising how insulting it sounded. Ray just looked the other way so he could roll his eyes without starting anything.

Looking around outside had reminded Ray of what a beautiful day it was, and he was very tempted to to suggest that Ben would benefit from some fresh air. He mentally debated, and finally just went with what he knew would be an unwelcome suggestion.

“Now we know it’s safe out there, want to go for a walk in the sunshine?”

And there was the accusatory expression Ray was expecting.

“Yes, Ray,” Ben said tersely, “I would love to go for a walk. But as things stand… No, wait, I can’t do that either.”

“Okay, want to go out for a wheel?”

“That isn’t funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be, it was an invitation to get out in the fresh air for a while and enjoy the sun. You’d currently have more freedom if you were behind bars.”

“Ridiculous.”

“Just round the block. I’ll push the chair, you don’t have to make any kind of effort other than taking the risk of enjoying yourself.”

Predictably the moment came that made Ray’s heart clench. The grumpy obstinacy on Ben’s face turned to distress, and the uncoordinated turn away wasn’t hiding a thing. Coffee slopped over the side of the mug, and Ray waited as Ben fought to contain whatever furious emotion that invoked. Ray could think of a few possible ones, considering Ben’s mood, and none of them healthy. He gently removed the mug and set it on the night stand, fetching a few paper tissues from the box on the dresser, and dabbing at the damp mark on Ben’s sweatshirt. Ben’s hand shot out to grab Ray’s wrist, and for a moment that’s how they remained, a freeze-frame tableau of rejected help and deflected anger.

So Ray did what he thought was possibly a huge mistake, but it had worked time and again with Stella when she was vibrating with stress over certain challenges thrown up by renovating the bowling alley. He sat on the edge of the bed, leant in, and eased Ben to him, gently hugging the rigid form and methodically stroking Ben’s back. It seemed like a long wait, but finally there was capitulation, when muscles loosened and defiance melted away; Ben gradually wilted into Ray’s embrace and finally, after all the self-destructive resistance, let himself be comforted.

Ray hoped he’d made a breakthrough, even if Ben did eventually pull away and attempt to replace his tattered mask of invulnerability.

“This isn’t…”

“Anything,” Ray interrupted. “Other than comfort. You’re not weak, you’re not the anti-Mountie, you just need what we all need sometimes. Comfort.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Ben whispered, the mask once again slipping to expose the torment beneath.

“Ah, Benny, nothing can be so bad.”

“You don’t know.”

“I will one day. And if for some crazy reason you need forgiveness, I’ll forgive you. You need absolution, I’ll give it, you won’t even have to ask.”

“But what if…”

“There’s no ‘what if’. That’s why you wanted me here. That’s why I’m glad to be here.”

With a subdued groan, Ben accepted what he was being offered, defeatedly slumping back into Ray’s arms, and remaining there for a very long time.

The Lesser Distance 7       The Lesser Distance Index       Notes

Site Updates     Update List     Home     Fiction     Gallery     Links     Feedback