by Lazuli

Part 7 ~ Electric Chair

There had been no breakthrough, Ray accepted, despite Ben’s reluctant acceptance of a little comfort. Today he was back to being stoic and playing his part as the man who gets on with it. Although Ray had turned away the support workers the previous evening at Ben’s request, today they came in and helped with washing and dressing, and all with perky smiles that Ben clearly wanted to punch off their faces. But he was charming. Charming through gritted teeth. Ray suspected the call to cancel any further help would be made sooner rather than later.

Looking on the chart he’d been given, today was also the day when Ben was due to visit the psychiatrist at the IRF, and Ray couldn’t wait for the blast of frigid air that would meet him when that fact was introduced into their next conversation.

If Ben played nicely and accepted the appointment, it would possibly give Ray the chance to get away and have a word with Lieutenant Welsh. Only possibly, because Ben was not comfortable in the IRF, and would probably want Ray by his side every moment. But surely privacy was more important than paranoia in this instance?

Knowing he wouldn’t be followed, Ray went out into the garden to check his phone. A message from his mother, accompanied by a gustily delivered song from his nieces and nephews – he’d play that for Ben later on the off chance it would raise a smile.

Nothing about Diefenbaker, just another couple of grifters making up so-called sightings that in no way made sense. Ray accepted it was early days, but he was losing hope. He had to find a way to leave Benny for a couple of hours, just so he could search the areas where the wolf used to hang out, if for no other reason than to convince himself he was doing everything possible to locate Diefenbaker.

Ray also took five minutes to bring Miriam up to speed with events. Yes, Ben was happier in the bungalow; yes, he was eating properly and putting on weight; yes (Ray crossed his fingers), he would be seeing the psychiatrist. She was delighted for Ben’s sake but sounded as frazzled as he felt. They sympathised with one another and kept the call short.

…

Support workers dismissed, a very grumpy Ben wheeled himself out to the kitchen table and parked opposite Ray.

“You done?” Ray asked.

Ben nodded.

“Not just for today. As far as I’m concerned if I can get on and off the toilet, in and out of bed, I’ll settle for you hosing me down in the garden. Don’t try to talk me round.”

Not today. Ray had bigger fish to fry. He slid the timetable under Ben’s nose, and waited for him to find the relevant item. It didn’t take long, and the only response was a brisk,

“No.”

Having had time to think it through, Ray was ready.

“I didn’t mention it, but I needed help when I came back from Las Vegas. I was all kinds of screwed up.”

Ben stared at Ray in surprise and gave a hard blink.

“But you seem so grounded.”

“Now, maybe, but back then, once the adrenalin had worn off… The debriefing lasted for weeks and when we got near the end, one of the guys doing the interviews told me to find a therapist. He’d dealt with dozens of cops in my position, and he knew his stuff. Once upon a time I’d’ve laughed it off, but I guess all that living on my nerves got to me, and I recognised I was in trouble, so I took his advice.”

Ben’s interest was reluctant, but it was interest nevertheless.

“Did it help?”

“Yes. Although I don’t think I’ll ever be right. I have this…situation in my head over me and Ray Kowalski. I struggle with him being me for so long, and him being me for you. Then there’s other people still thinking he’s me. When I was being debriefed there were times I was around the station and met people who thought he was Ray Vecchio, and I was some kind of impostor. That was hard.”

“Did Ray experience anything similar?”

“The same but different. His situation was as difficult as mine. We didn’t spend that much time together, but I knew he had his own problems. Then he was gone, and…you’d’ve thought that might have helped, but not when people kept asking where Ray Vecchio was and he was standing right in front of them. Even if I hadn’t got pensioned off, I’m not sure how much longer I would have lasted.”

“I’m surprised to hear that, bearing in mind you gravitated back to police work.”

“But that was via the therapist, and then the bowling alley which, like I told you, was therapy in itself. And I still never got it right.”

“It doesn’t stop you telling me to try.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Perhaps I need a bowling alley rather than a psychiatrist.”

“When you’re back on your feet, some intensive labour might be good to get you out of your head. It worked for me and Stella. Working our fingers to the bone didn’t leave too much time for introspection, so what little space was left for our inner lives got concentrated on the things that really mattered. Like her wanting kids, and me— That hardly matters now.”

“What did you want?”

Ray considered how honest to be. In light of the conversation, ‘very’ seemed to be the only choice.

“I wanted to go back in time and change things.” Ray offered up a sad smile. “Nothing like wanting the impossible to focus the mind on the achievable.”

“Change what?”

“Isn’t it obvious? When they offered me Armando Langoustini, I should have told them to take a hike. I screwed up the best thing in my life by running away like a coward.”

Ben thought, and hesitated.

“Do you mean…?”

“C’mon, you know what I mean, but I was out of order so I’m not going to say it. From the moment we had that weird conversation about me not being at the station to pick you up you knew what I meant.”

Ray watched as Ben dredged up the memory.

“‘As a friend’,” he quoted softly.

“As a friend,” Ray repeated, much as he had all those years ago.

“But you’d been thinking…?”

That was more than enough honesty for today.

“Look, we’ve wandered away from the point I was making. Benny, talking to someone who knows how to help will not take anything away from you. If you have one session and think it’s pointless, I would say… Actually, I’d say have another session. Or change psychiatrist. If after a few sessions it’s not helping you cope, then maybe you need a different kind of therapy to deal with the PTSD. But it’s a start, and it’s worth trying.”

“There are things I don’t think I can talk about.”

“Then don’t talk about them. Still might help you learn how to manage them.”

“I’d rather talk to you.”

“But you don’t talk to me.”

“I will. When I’m ready.”

“And what about when I’m ready?” Ben frowned at that, clearly not understanding. “How about…I need to understand what’s going on. Now. Simple as that. How do I protect you – us – if I don’t know what the threat is?”

“Ray…”

“No, listen. You’re jumping at your own shadow, you’re hearing things, birds on the garden fence break you out in a cold sweat, and…what? I’m supposed to think that’s fine, and we’ll deal with the threat as and when? If the mailman knocked on the window I swear you’d be dead from a heart attack before I could get to you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to start recovering, and it doesn’t look like you can do that by yourself. I know you don’t want to be reminded of what the doctor said, but there’s no physical reason for you not to be walking. If it’s psychological, if your brain’s stuck in a loop between fight and flight, you need help to unpick the cause.”

“But then I’m back to what I can’t talk about.”

“It wouldn’t be like talking to me. The process is impersonal. No psychiatrist is going to judge you, or be shocked, or turn you away because you put them off their mid-morning snack. They’re a service, not an evaluator of how you’ve lived your life, or how you got to the state you’re in now. Their job is to help you come to terms with…whatever it is.”

Ben was clearly thinking something over; Ray hoped it was the right thing, but Ben surprised him.

“You really have changed.”

“I know, I’ve told you that – warned you – how many times?”

That raised a smile.

“No warning needed. I like this you.”

“You’ve changed your tune. I thought you didn’t like this me pussyfooting around.”

“Well, you’re certainly not doing that now.”

“No, maybe not.”

“I do like this you. And the old you.”

“And the middle me,” Ray poked fun at his own issues.

“All of you.” The smile faded, to be replaced by a resolute expression that reminded Ray of his old friend. “And I’ll do this for you.”

“For you,” Ray corrected.

“For us.”

Ben returned the timetable to Ray, who set it aside and gave Ben a warm smile.

“Okay. Now, how far did you get before you threw those people out, and do I need to break out the hose?”

…

Back to the IRF, tension ramping, head on a swivel, and Ray was already regretting talking Ben into this. He should have made arrangements for someone to visit the bungalow, rather than dragging Ben back to a place he so clearly found intimidating.

It was with relief that they were introduced to a petite Asian woman who was the unit’s in-house psychiatrist, and all Ray’s worries of a character straight out of Ben’s nightmares faded to nothing. Ben appeared to like Doctor Lee instantly, as if he’d made up his mind to welcome her into his horror story before they’d even been introduced.

Once it was established that Ben would be occupied for a ninety minute consultation, Ray let him know that he was going to visit the 27^th, but would come back instantly if he got a call. If that wasn’t good enough, then Ben refused to show it and, as he walked back to the car, Ray worried that Ben was going to gloss over his problems and end up discussing Inuit moss therapy or something. But he’d done all he could and, to be fair, would have to hold his hands up if he was accused of glossing over a substantial amount of his own post-Las Vegas issues.

The desk sergeant at the station house was an old colleague and, apparently, an unchanging fixture; he greeted Ray like he’d only just popped out for coffee, handing over a visitor’s badge and waving him inside.

Lieutenant Welsh stood as Ray entered his office, offering a far warmer handshake than any Ray could recall from the past.

“Detective Vecchio! I’ve been expecting you.”

“What are you now? A Bond villain?”

Welsh laughed and gestured Ray to a seat.

“As soon as Mrs Appleby started asking questions, I knew it was only a matter of time.”

“Miriam said you’d told her how to get in touch.”

“And I told her not to say how she got your details.”

“That’s very Miriam. She marches to her own beat, if you know what I mean.”

“I do.”

They made small talk for ten minutes, catching up on what happened to whom after Ray had left, then, without prompting, Welsh moved on to what Ray needed.

“I was pretty sure what you’d be here asking for.”

“You know about Fraser’s accident?”

“I only found out when Mrs Appleby told me. Different precinct.” Ray nodded his understanding. “But once I did know, and expecting you on our doorstep, I asked a few questions. And you know what? This didn’t sound like the Mountie.”

“Not only me then,” Ray confirmed.

“I saw a couple of photos, and it didn’t even look like Fraser.”

“But, of course, having an enquiring mind…?”

“I asked a few more questions. The investigating officer told me that, when she informed the Consulate of the accident, they said Fraser took an extended leave of absence five months ago.”

That shouldn’t have surprised Ray as much as it did; Ben had clearly been off grid for a while.

“Did they say what for?”

“Now there, I can’t help you. He goes back to Canada, and after that there’s nothing until he’s back in Chicago and running into traffic.”

“Do you know if the wolf was there? Maybe caught up in the accident?”

Welsh quickly scanned the police report on his desk.

“No mention of any casualty but Fraser. If the wolf had been there, I doubt he’d have left Fraser’s side.”

“You’re right.”

“I take it he’s not talking about it?” Ray sighed and shook his head; Welsh gave a sympathetic smile. “If the 27^th can do anything for him, fund-raise, whatever, let me know. I’m still not sure how we got here but, he’s one of our own.”

“Everything’s covered, but that’s a kind thought, thank you.”

“Have you left the force again?”

“Not exactly. Why?”

“You sounded like a civilised human being for a moment there.”

Ray laughed as he got to his feet.

“Long story about a bowling alley. We’ll catch up some time and I’ll give you my learned philosophy about the benefits of taking irresponsible chances.”

Welsh stood and saw Ray out.

“Give Fraser my regards. And if you find out why he took on that car…enquiring minds really would like to know.”

…

Ben was keen to get back to the car when Ray collected him from the IRF, making him suspicious that Ben wanted Ray to hear his take on any incoming information rather than Doctor Lee’s. Or maybe it was just that Ben really liked the car, having been impressed by how easy it was for him to access, and how secure he felt within it. Yes, that’s definitely the reason, Ray wryly told himself.

“Lieutenant Welsh says hi.”

“Did you ask him about getting your old job back?”

“Not this time, we were just catching up. I’m in no hurry to go back, if at all. You know that.”

“You’ll resign?” Ben asked with a frown, as if faced with an utterly foreign concept.

Ray considered.

“Yeah. I guess I will. It’s not like the 27^th is going anywhere if I change my mind later.”

“Did you miss it? When you went undercover?”

“I missed everything,” Ray said with feeling. “And we’re not discussing my bad decisions right now. How did you get on?”

“I liked Doctor Lee better than I thought I would. Despite what you’d told me, I have no idea of what I was expecting. She didn’t press me to talk about what was troubling me, just asked me a few things about my background, how I was feeling generally rather than specifically.”

“Did you tell her how you were feeling about…y’know…about wanting the gun?”

“No. And…Ray, I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I can’t apologise enough.”

“Don’t, Benny, you don’t need to apologise, I just need to know you’ll get past those feelings. God knows, I have sympathy for you feeling them.”

“You do?”

Just for a second Ray was back in Welsh’s office, pausing for thought as two FBI agents waved the Las Vegas job under his nose. His worst thought through escape plan ever.

“Don’t we all look for the easiest way out sometimes?” he offered up. “But it’s never the best way, trust me.”

“You’re talking about…?” Ben frowned.

“Doesn’t matter, get back to today.”

Ray almost shrivelled under Ben’s excruciatingly perceptive gaze, feeling like he was having his mind read, but then Ben snapped back to the day’s appointment.

“Doctor Lee was mostly concerned about how I was coping with my disability.”

“Oh, God, you didn’t mention the hose?”

Ben chuckled.

“Some things are just private.” Which made Ray laugh too. “But we did talk.”

“That’s a start.”

“I, umm… I eventually managed to volunteer a few examples of how I was reacting to noises and such, but then…” Ben gave a shuddering breath as he recalled. “I fell to pieces, Ray. Choked on what I was trying to say. She was very kind, and reassured me, but said she could tell I wasn’t ready to go any further today.”

“Well, she’s not there to make it worse.”

“But I did try.”

“Then that’s enough.”

“I don’t want to let you down.”

“I know I bullied you into it, but don’t make it about me.”

“It’s almost easier though. Doing it for you. Maybe it’s a part of my psyche, this desire to do right by others.”

“That’ll give Doctor Lee something else to untangle.”

“Is it a problem though?”

“It is if you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

“There’s a chance that the only way I’ll be able to go through with this therapy is if I tell myself I’m doing it for you.”

Ray gave a grim laugh and shook his head.

“That doctor’s going to have a field day with you, Benny.”

Ray parked up outside the bungalow, letting Ben take the initiative when it came to moving beyond the car. As Ben took his time checking out everything and everybody in the vicinity, Ray found himself scrutinising their surroundings too, even if he didn’t know what he was looking for. Give it a couple of months of this and Ray suspected Doctor Lee might have another patient, one with paranoia by association.

…

Out of the car, Ray resisted the urge to push the chair and get Ben inside as quickly as possible. He wandered up to the front door and opened it, leaning back against the frame and enjoying the sunshine as Ben made his way up the ramp.

“This is harder work than it looks,” Ben hinted.

“That reminds me: I’ve hired an electric chair for you.”

“In case the hose isn’t punishment enough?”

“You think—” Ray saw the humour in Ben’s eyes and stopped the blustery explanation before it started. “An electric wheelchair, smartass. Should be here later this afternoon.”

Once inside Ray made sure Ben saw him locking and checking the front door.

“We need to pick out some exercise equipment for you. There’s space in the spare room. And I thought I’d get a basketball hoop to put up in the garden.”

“A basketball hoop?”

“Sure. You have to work on your upper body strength.”

“Obviously,” Ben replied caustically, all good humour now evaporated.

“No, not obviously, not for the reason you mean. That’s what the new chair’s for. You need exercise to keep your body healthy, it’s good for you, gives you a dopamine hit, you know all this, or rather you would if you picked up any one of the piles of paper we’ve been given at the IRF. Until you’re chasing down perps again, this will have to do.”

“Exercise. Even like this?”

“Especially like this.” Ben fell silent, slowly wheeling himself away. “Hey, listen, I’ll be doing everything with you. All you have to do is keep up with me. If you can,” Ray said as provocatively as possible, feeling disappointed when Ben didn’t rise to the challenge as he would have in the past. “Okay, that was clumsy. Sorry.”

“Don’t you think it’s all pointless?” Ben asked quietly.

“You’re not giving up,” Ray warned, “whether you’re aiming for getting better, or looking forward to living the best life you can like this.”

Ben turned back and stared at Ray.

“You finally said it.”

“For a reaction,” Ray explained. “The same way as getting a basketball hoop will get me a reaction. It’ll piss you off, but any response is better than you giving me the silent treatment. We’ll start off with ten minutes a day in the garden, then you can come inside and sulk all you like.”

“Cruel to be kind?”

“Whatever you want to call it. And I’ll order some dumbbells or whatever’s best. Might as well irritate you over everything, all in one go.”

Ben eventually gave in, pretty much as Ray expected he would.

“All right. Go ahead.”

“Great. I’ll call the chair people, see if they have other equipment.”

“Ray… What if this really is it now? If there’s no getting better?”

“Then I’ll buy the chair instead of hiring it.” Not the answer Ben was looking for. “The chair’s about giving you more independence until you get over this,” Ray clarified. “And I’ll keep saying it until it sinks in: I’m not giving up, and I won’t let you give up either.”

In the face of yet another lack of response, Ray came to Ben’s side and surprised him by taking up his hand and giving an affectionate squeeze.

“Don’t give up,” Ray pleaded.

Ben’s composure crumpled and he turned his head away, gripping Ray’s hand harder until he caused a pained gasp.

“Sorry,” Ben apologised, but only barely let up the pressure.

“Don’t be. I’m impressed. Upper body strength, remember?”

“Not at the cost of your knuckles.”

“I’d give anything, Benny,” Ray said softly. “Anything.”

Ben turned back, addressing Ray with unquestionable sincerity.

“This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”

Direct hit to the heart; Ray’s unending pain was far more intense than a crushed knuckle, and Ben finally, not just saw, but recognised it. He tugged at Ray until he sank to his knees, becoming accessible, and now it was Ben’s turn to pull his friend into a hard hug, and here there was no resistance as he returned the comfort he’d so recently received.

“None of this is your fault, Ray,” he reiterated. “None of it.”

…

“They’re considering sending me back to the hospital for another x-ray and an MRI,” Ben announced over coffee and cookies.

“That’s good.”

“Is it?”

“They might have missed something.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Finding and fixing it would be. When are we going?”

Ben didn’t answer immediately, so Ray did the usual, taking a closer look to see if there was any glimmer of emotion that might hint at what Ben was thinking. Nothing discernible. Or rather nothing negative. Ben’s caught Ray’s inquisitive look.

“I was just appreciating how good it is not to have to do this on my own. The journey has been a lonely one.”

“Why didn’t you send for me sooner? I’d’ve come in a heartbeat, don’t you know that?”

“I thought about it.”

“And?”

“I didn’t feel I had the right.”

A moment of explosive protestation was stifled by Ray. How many calming breaths had he taken since he got here?

“Well, I’m here for you now, and I’m not going anywhere until you throw me out for being an overprotective pain in the ass.”

“When I was still at the IRF, there was a moment when you described yourself as my advocate. I should have told you at the time how much I appreciated it.”

“I’m happy to do that. Be that. Keep being that. Any of those.”

Ben smiled, looking happier than he had since Ray had arrived back in Chicago; something about being the one to offer consolation rather than receive it had made a change, and Ray told himself that, in an emergency, all he had to do to bring Ben out of himself was to personally fall apart.

“Can I make it plain that the electric wheelchair is a temporary convenience rather than a long term plan?”

“I know.”

“I don’t want you thinking…”

“I don’t.”

“So you know what I’m trying to say?”

“That I have more important things to waste my energy on than wheeling myself around.”

Ray nodded.

“That’ll do. I’m glad you can still read my mind.”

“I know what’s in there that you haven’t mentioned.”

“Where to start?” Ray said with a humourless laugh.

Ben acknowledged the multitude of unmentionable subjects with a brief nod.

“The one I want to address… I realise you’ll have to return to Florida at some point, and I’m curious about how everything will be managed.”

“Is that a polite way of asking how you cope when I brutally abandon you?”

The smile was back.

“Not quite where I was going.”

“Okay. Yes, I have to go back to Florida and sort that life out. I’m currently on compassionate leave, so no end date…”

“They gave you compassionate leave for…this?”

“For you. Yeah. I told them to talk to Welsh and he’d confirm I was needed by family.” Ray threw a challenging look at Ben. “Tell me that’s a lie.” Ben just held his hands up in surrender; no argument there. “But, like I said, I’m probably quitting. And my boss has been good so I feel I should do that in person.”

“I agree.”

“Then I have to cancel the lease on the apartment, arrange for the furniture to go into storage, pack up my belongings and… Damn it, I’ll have to take the car so I can bring everything.”

“Is that a problem?”

“I was thinking of flying in and out on the same day, this will take longer.”

“If it’s what you need to do, then…it’s fine.”

“How is it fine? If I take two minutes fetching something from the car you worry, how can I leave you alone all that time?”

“I’ll have to cope.”

Ray stopped to think; the answer was almost obvious.

“How about I talk to Stella, see if I can borrow her husband for forty-eight hours?”

“You don’t think you should just ask Ray?”

“Are you kidding me?”

Now it was Ben’s turn to think, and he was soon shaking his head.

”It’s not a good idea. I don’t want him here.”

“But he’s your friend, you trust him, he’ll…”

“No. Not now.”

“Because you don’t feel it’s safe here?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then hint,” Ray very nearly shouted, out of his chair and trying to pace off his nervous energy. “How can I leave you alone here when I don’t know what’s going on? Or what you think is going on.”

“I’m not paranoid.”

“Then I’ll make arrangements for someone from the 27^th to be here, even if they’re sitting outside on surveillance the whole time.”

“But not Ray.”

“He’s going to be insulted when he hears about this.”

“He has children now, he can’t take chances.”

That salient point made Ray take both a mental and physical step back.

“When you measure it like that, you and me are dispensable?”

“I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay, Benny,” Ray said, calmly now. “I think I needed to hear that.”

“It came out wrong.”

“It came out very right. I’m catching up with you, maybe taking this business more seriously than I have so far. If this isn’t paranoia, then the main reason I need to go back to Florida is I have a gun safe packed full of Armando Langoustini’s fire power. Now he had every right to feel paranoid and he, like you, knew it wasn’t paranoia if someone really was out to get him. That man…”

“You.”

“Yes, me, okay. He— I was never more than six feet away from a weapon at any time. And if I trust you – which I do, with my life – why am I questioning your instincts on this? You are in danger, which puts me in danger, and we need those guns here until the situation is resolved.”

“That doesn’t solve our immediate problem.”

Ray sat back down, leaning on the table and looking very smug.

“Oh, that’s solved.”

Ben was suitably baffled but couldn’t help responding to the cheeky grin on Ray’s face.

“So?”

“How do you fancy a road trip?”

...

Despite spluttering out a few quickly countered objections to Ray’s plan, Ben was very cheerful as he welcomed the arrival of the electric wheelchair. While Ben got to grips with his new toy, Ray took the various other pieces of equipment into the spare room, stacking them neatly in the corner and pretending that he and Ben would use them religiously every day. Exercise was very important, after all.

Armando Langoustini had famously loved the gym; yet another reason why Ray hated the man with a passion. The hours he’d wasted convincingly pursuing that scumbag’s fitness goals…

Shortly after the delivery from the mobility store, someone showed up to fit the alarm system, lights and cameras around the bungalow. Ben’s demeanour changed instantly. The man who came to carry out the work was white, well built and tall, and it hurt to see Ben baulk at his presence in and around the property.

There was nothing Ray could do other than make sure he never left Ben alone, not when it was essential that all the security apparatus was in place before they left for Florida. Although he battled to control it, the PTSD won out, and Ben was in a cold sweat and visibly shaking due to the man’s comings and goings; Ray finally managed to convince him to take refuge in the wet room, with its lockable door.

A shame because the security man, Lou, was a very decent guy, to the point that he volunteered to put up the basketball hoop he noticed leaning against the wall at the back of the building. Ray had to turn him down because he didn’t know about the height and, of course, there was no way of getting Ben to come into the garden so they could work it out.

Lou tested the system and then explained how it was linked to a main security hub, and that any alert would have security guards at the bungalow in minutes; Ray nodded a lot, taking another clutch of paperwork which was sure to be added to the pile of essential reading he was never going to get through this side of Christmas.

Once Lou had gone, Ray rapped on the wet room door.

“It’s just us now, Benny.”

Ray waited for a few seconds and the door was edged open as Ben peered out, then flung back to make room for the new wheelchair, which glided almost silently past Ray and into the kitchen

“Like the chair?”

“I do, very much. How long is the charge?”

Ray rifled through the day’s batch of papers and checked the relevant page of details.

“Fifteen to twenty miles. Says an average day, but what’s average? Needs charging for eight hours, so overnight?”

“Do we take this chair or the manual?”

“Whatever you want. Either will fit in the car.”

“But if you’re bringing a lot of belongings back?”

As Ray finally looked at Ben his attention switched.

“You risked a shave? Shaking like that?”

“Actually, I found the process of shaving, and the concentration level needed, quite soothing.”

“Oh, really. How many cuts?”

“A couple,” Ben conceded. “Very minor.”

“PTSD is truly the gift that keeps on giving, huh?”

“I never would have believed this could happen to me,” Ben confessed. “I don’t know if that makes me arrogant, or ignorant…”

“Are you going to able to cope with this trip?”

Ray watched Ben pull himself together, sitting up straighter in his chair and attempting a brave smile to quell Ray’s concern.

“Can’t wait to get started.”

The bravery wobbled, and Ben manoeuvred himself out of the room in an effort to keep his troubles to himself. Ray watched him go and didn’t even attempt to follow Ben’s lead, letting sadness wash over him.

It hurt Ray to see Ben hurt, but what could he do? He’d just keep acknowledging Ben’s feelings with an understanding smile and a nod, and bottling up the frustration borne of knowing, absolutely believing deep in his soul, that if Benny would share the root cause of the PTSD Ray could make it better. Whatever it was, Ray would find a way to make it better.

And then, only then, would Benny stand up and walk away from this whole sorry mess.

The Lesser Distance 8       The Lesser Distance Index       Notes

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