Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of due South. What did you expect?
This story very literally hit me over the head. They say you write what you know, and certain aspects of Fraser's reaction here came from personal experience. I hope you enjoy the story. Contains spoilers for Victoria's Secret.
Fraser slowly sank onto his bed as he clutched the phone message in his fist. He had gone to the police station to find Ray, only to discover that his friend was out on a call. As he was leaving, an officer at the front desk handed him a small piece of paper.
Without even looking up, the man said, "A detective from the NYPD has been trying to get a hold of you." Fraser had thanked the man and turned away. Diefenbaker trailed at his heels as he scanned the message – and in one second, Fraser's life changed.
While responding to a bank robbery yesterday, the suspect was shot and killed. Deceased's fingerprints match one Victoria Metcalf. We need someone to identify the body, and your name came up on the database in connection with hers. Please call me at…
During the long walk home, Fraser felt tears cloud his eyes – but he refused to let them fall. Dief walked in front of him, faithfully clearing a path for the Mountie, and growling occasionally to warm him of any obstacles.
Once inside his small apartment, Fraser felt an almost uncontrollable urge to destroy everything that met his eyes. But he lived such a spartan lifestyle that there wasn't much he could throw. That, combined with the knowledge he would have to replace what he broke, convinced his painfully beating heart to give up the idea.
Walking over to the bed where the Mountie had collapsed, Dief curled up at his feet, and Fraser reached down to absently stroke his fur. "She's gone, Dief," he said slowly – voice and heart breaking. The wolf whined – if only out of pity for Fraser. As Victoria had shot Dief, he had no sympathy for the woman herself.
Unable to hold it back any longer, Fraser began to cry. Hot tears of pain rolled down his face as his mind retraced memories of her – a silent soliloquy of what had been. But when his thoughts turned to the future – how he would never hold her again, smell her heady scent, or kiss her soft lips – he began to sob. Even though she had left him, he always retained the hope that she would find him again when she was ready. Now even that had been taken from him, leaving him barren. Fraser lay down and curled up into a protective ball. The sobs that wracked his body were nothing compared to the searing pain in his heart – as if someone had just stabbed him and left him there to bleed. Grief spread through his veins like poison as he choked on his tears.
He didn't know how long he had lain there, facing the window – Dief stretched out against his back – when he heard a voice behind him.
"I'm sorry, son." The words were inadequate, and both men knew it.
"You hated her, dad."
"You're right," Bob Fraser's ghost replied – still making no move to go and comfort his son. "I'm sorry for you, not for her."
Fraser wiped his eyes. "Why does it have to hurt so much?" he wondered. "When people I love die – mom, grandma, you… Why does it feel like I lose a part of my heart every time?"
His father remained silent for a moment before walking around to look his son in the eye. "Perhaps it's because we take a small piece of your heart with us. To remember you by." Fraser looked up at his father as one small ray of sun pierced through the gloom.
"Thanks, dad." Sighing as exhaustion took over, he drifted to sleep.
I'm trying to decide if this should stand alone or be continued. What do you think?