I stood there… arm stretched straight out in front of me and willed my finger not to squeeze the trigger before my eyes could clearly focus on their target. Where the hell were my glasses when I needed them the most? It suddenly dawned on me that they were my kryptonite… the one thing that could bring me down and destroy my every ounce of being.
Fraser and I had decided at the last minute to eat at the diner around the corner tonight. A change of pace to getting the usual pizza or Chinese and taking it back to the apartment. We were engrossed in each other's conversation, invading personal space like we tend to do when we have to spend the day apart. I hadn't laid eyes on him since I kissed his sleeping form good bye earlier this morning at 4 am when Welsh called me to come investigate a floating John Doe. I wanted nothing more than a quiet evening to get reacquainted with him, but that would have to wait until later when we were both behind the closed door of our apartment. Although… it wasn't likely I could forget anything about him in the course of 15 hours. I just missed him all day.
Back to the present and our hostage situation. My arm is steady even though my heart is in my throat and I'm trying desperately hard not to choke to death on the sobs I'm fighting so hard to conceal. A goon who has a good forty pounds and at least six inches on Fraser has his stocky forearm wrapped around Fraser's throat cutting off his air supply. He is definitely high on something… giving him the strength of an ox. He's waving a gun around at the terrified people in the diner demanding all the money in the register.
It had been slow ever since we arrived at seven so there couldn't be more than a couple hundred bucks in the thing to begin with. That doesn't seem to dissuade the goon into doing the smart thing and leaving… no… that would be too easy. The young waitress is too terrified and can't get the register to open anyway. She's screaming and the goon is screaming and I'm yelling for them both to just "Shut the fuck up!"
Fraser and I had decided to sit in the middle of the diner tonight, something we never do. It was fairly empty and we didn't want the waitress to have to walk all the way to our usual corner booth to wait on us. We weren't planning on being there long anyway. Just eat a quick, decent meal and then head home. I knew something was off when the huge guy walked in and was pacing looking for a place to sit. There were plenty of options to choose from. Fraser had gone to wash his hands before we ate and when he was returning to our table, that's when the guy grabbed him from behind and started squeezing the life out of him, demanding the money from the register. I'm up and out of my seat and have my gun on him immediately.
Fraser knows that I can't hit the broad side of a barn without my glasses… maybe that's why he's shaking…or maybe it's because he's getting no oxygen to his brain. Maybe it's because I'm about to make a decision that he thinks could get him killed, knows will get him killed if I try and take the shot. Because let's face it… the guy is moving further away from me, dragging Fraser with him and my aim is getting blurrier with each step he takes.
But I can't do it… I love him too damn much and he knows that too. What he doesn't know, as I lower my gun and kind of admit defeat to the Incredible Hulk that is choking the life out of him, is that there is another gun trained on him too, one that won't miss its target and one that I pray can hit the broad side of a barn. I take a step back as I lock onto Fraser's frightened blue eyes and plead with him not to take the situation into his own hands as I rub a thumb across the bridge of my nose. Our signal to each other that it's going to be okay, that everything is working itself out … that's the plan… stick to it.
Please for once in your life… take the hint and listen to me. He does… he blinks once, twice and holds his eyes shut on the third. And… oh god, his color isn't looking so good. He opens his eyes and locks onto mine. He's scared because he doesn't know what is happening behind him and I can't tell him without giving it away that there's another cop back there. Another cop that I know has good aim… now that I can see more than just his gun and I let out a huge inward sigh of relief because… this guy is good.
So, now I don't feel so guilty about dropping my gun, because now we have the advantage… kind of. The Incredible Hulk doesn't know it and Fraser doesn't know it. But he knows me and he trusts me and that's all I can ask of him at this moment. I'm praying the cop from behind hurries up and does whatever he is going to do because Fraser is starting to go limp and he really is looking more petrified by the second and oh god… what color did he just turn?
When the Incredible Hulk realizes that he isn't getting any money anytime soon, he drags a half-conscious Fraser towards the door and that's when I hear the shot and the screaming from too many people and then they go down… both the Incredible Hulk and Fraser. The cop from behind has his cuffs out and slapped on the wrists of the Hulk and he's pulling him off Fraser, who isn't moving and I realize that the bullet went through the guys massive body and has struck Ben.
I'm pleading and begging with God above not to take him when he opens his eyes and coughs and sucks in a boat load of air then coughs again. I have my arms around him and he's still struggling to breathe and someone in the background is calling for an ambulance but all I can hear is…
"I'm okay, Ray…I'm okay."
And isn't that the most beautiful sound in the world. I haul him to a sitting position and rejoice when I see the bullet just grazed his shoulder. It's gonna leave a not so pretty scar… but who cares… because Ben's alive.
The EMT's get him patched up and decide he doesn't qualify for a trip to the hospital this time. We head home, both of us shaken to the core. Diefenbaker is all over Fraser the second we open the door, somehow sensing that something has happened to his pack mate. I get him a double dose of Tylenol and a glass of water and hand it over as he settles onto the couch.
I stand there staring at him and realize I could have lost him again tonight and it would have been partly my fault. My fault because I can't fucking see without my glasses and because I'm too damn stubborn to wear them all the time like I'm supposed to. They will never be my kryptonite again.
"I'm calling the eye doctor in the morning, Ben…"
