Alejandra's Webpage / Fanfics / Due South / Tears: Ray's Take TEARS, Ray's Take by Zhirea. Circa December 28, 2000.

The usual disclaimers apply. They're not mine; I hate Alliance for that.

Pairings: BF/RV.

Spoilers: "Victoria's Secret"

First part of three. Coming soon: "Tears: Ben's Take"

~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~

"TEARS: Ray's Take"

by

Zhirea




I could never stand a man crying. I don't know, it's against my nature to see a man crying without freaking out. Maybe it's because I cry so seldom, and even when that happens, it's always because the last drop of self-restraint has been drain out of me. Maybe that's what happened to you.

That night, I went out to walk the streets, filled with a rage and a jealousy I could not explain to myself. You were happy, you were with the woman you loved, and I should've been happy for you, but I couldn't. I admit it now: your happiness meant my misery. You had what you wanted in Life, and I didn't. Of course, I could not see any of this back then, but I see it now.

That night, my walking brought me to you. I didn't want to see you, consciously, that is; but my body was another thing: it craved your presence, your breath of life, and your eyes. I craved you, and you were with her. Or so I thought.

When I stopped and opened my eyes to see where my treacherous body had brought me, I saw your apartment building, in West Racine. That brought down, dirty, trash-filled, cramped rat-hole you insisted on calling home. You and I know that's not your home. Your home is way up, due north, up in the remote planes of the Northwest Territories. Yes, I know how to call them. I just changed their name in your presence just to have the pleasure of your correction. One of the many pleasures I experienced while being with you… all but the one pleasure I wanted so badly to experience.

So, I stood in front of the building, asking myself what the Hell was I doing there, and then I saw you.

I half-expected to find you with her. I knew you would forgive her anything, because your love for her turned you blind. You, the man with eagle eyes and bat ears, with the instinct of the wolf, the cunning of the fox, the savvy of the owl… in conclusion, a man that possessed the best there is of the whole animal kingdom, couldn't see past his nose when it came to that woman. Or maybe you did see, but you chose not to. That's one of the many mysteries in your life I gave up to solve, and I'm sure not even you can figure them out.

Standing there, in the middle of that filthy street and the cold wind blowing my coat farther and farther away from my body, I saw you busy, lightening candles. One, two… and then your apartment looked like a church, with burning candles everywhere, casting its glow all around, on every fixture, every piece of furniture (not that you have that many…), on the window… on me… I was bathed by that light, but it didn't mean joy… it meant heartache.

I saw you there, and you were crying.

Those weren't the tears of a sad man, not even of an angry one. Those tears, those precious tears I wished to wipe away, were tears of loneliness, of fear, of desperation, of shame, of longing and craving and loving and hating, all at the same time. Those were tears of betrayal. Tears that seemed to say "I told you so…" You felt so stupid. I felt so stupid. But most of all, I felt angry. I felt no one had the right to make you cry. I swore right that instant I would kill that bitch with my own bare hands, if necessary. I told her not to hurt you, or I would kill her. Well, she did; so I will. I never break a promise.

Your arms were tightly wrapped around your body, and your chest rose and fell with shivering sobs, trying to control yourself, but all in vain. The brick wall had been opened, the stones exploded, and the river came crashing down, ripping apart everything at its wake. Tears that seemed to be born from the arctic of your eyes, and burned their way down your cheeks to your lips, where they died. Where I died, every time you were near. Where every grain of me was encrusted. I, also, was born in your blue eyes, and died on your lips. I'm afraid I'm still dying.

I was crying, too. The few people walking at that hour across that street stopped and looked at me with awe on their eyes. One even stood by me and looked up, to see what I was seeing that made me cry. I drew my gun and pointed it at that one. He ran like a jackrabbit, and I was glad for it. I didn't feel ashamed of that outburst of rage. In fact, come to think of it, I didn't even hear your voice (which is my conscience, by the way) scolding me for my actions. Maybe you wished to place a bullet between his prying eyes, too. To end his miserable life for spying on us, on your pain, which I wanted to make mine, so you could forgive and forget, and live on without worries.

At some point, that pain was mine. Anything that hurts you kills me. I can't stand and watch yourself destroy your peace, and for a broad? Come on, Benny! You're smarter than that!

Standing there, wrapped in the darkness of that street, I let myself slide to the floor and no, I wasn't worried about my suit. My legs just gave way under me, and that entire macho exterior, that catholic, Italian crucifix-wearing cop masquerade crumbled and shattered in a million pieces, and I cried. I wanted to run up, kick your door down, run to you and hold you in my arms, and kiss you, and make love to you, and save myself. I needed to be saved. You're my anchor, Benny. But even with all your instinct, cunning and savvy you couldn't see beyond duty, friendship and honor. And I couldn't move.

Now, everybody stand up and pity Ray Vecchio, the coward. And that cowardice almost cost your life. Almost cost my soul, and right that second, I felt myself spiraling straight down to Hell, without return.

~~~@~~~

After that night, events unfolded in ways I couldn't foresee.

You were running. There were shouts, screams, the sound of money and diamonds dropping on the floor. A threat. Someone running away, and jumping in the train. A feminine voice calling out at you…

Victoria!

You stood there, torn between duty and love. Your face was washed out, like a painting left out in the middle of the rain. Only your eyes were there, glowing like pieces of blue coal, dancing between auburn-haired bliss and gruff cops calling at you. You hesitated. You looked at us, looked at me. And there was so much love in those eyes, so much longing, that I knew right that instant you had made your decision. I would've died after that, but I loved you too much to stand in the middle of your happiness. Or what you thought it was your happiness. How sadly mistaken we were!

Victoria reached a hand out to you, begging you to go with her. Go into a life of hiding, of running away, of shame and dishonor, disguised in a beautiful body and a killer smile.

Killer.

So you ran. You ran like the wind, stretching your arm at her. Not giving a damn about anything. About Dief, or your father. About your job, or our friendship.

Not giving a damn about me!

I swear, Benny. I saw a gun in her hand. Why else would've drawn my gun? Why else, damn it! I couldn't hurt you on purpose! I just couldn't! I would rather drive a bullet through my brain than to touch a strand of your hair in a dire way.

I saw a gun…

I saw it…

I couldn't let her harm you, my love.

I fired.

Fate acts in strange ways. You stepped in front of her, ready to hug her, to feel secure in her arms, and instead, you felt my bullet piercing your back.

Everything went in slow motion. Her cry of pain. Welsh's astonishment, and the gasp of disbelief that escaped from Huey's lips.

My own horror…

You fell down in slow motion, too, like a rag doll. You tall, proud, imposing body fell down, and I couldn't reach you fast enough, to break your fall.

A breath later, I was there, holding you, begging you to stay with me. And you just lay there, in my arms, mumbling something in French that Welsh couldn't understand.

I understood.

From your broken chest, words of snow, of love and death streamed through your throat, words long time learned and longer time forgotten, until you found yourself dying again.

You were again in Fortitude Pass. With her beside you, almost as one with your body, and you holding her fingers in your mouth, to keep them warm.

And now, you're shedding red tears.

Now it was your ragged voice repeating those verses over and over, until my head started to spin.

"What is he saying?" Welsh asked me.

"He said 'call an ambulance'" I mumbled.

You were saying your goodbyes.

In that instant, I didn't know if I was to see you again. If I could beg you to forgive me for taking your life. So, I reached down and touched your lips with the softest of my kisses. I think no one saw me and, if someone did, I wouldn't have given a damn.

Your eyes suddenly focused on me, with shock at first, and I dreaded to see the next reaction: hate and loathing.

But you saved me, even if I wasn't able to save you.

A word escaped from your trembling lips, a word that meant forgiveness, and understanding.

You said my name.

That was enough. My eyes filled with tears, but this time were tears of joy, happiness and yes, relief. It didn't last, because the paramedics came, and took you away.

Epilogue


Days later, you're lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines and doped into unconsciousness. Maybe you won't remember what happened in the train track. One part of my brain wants so.

The other one is praying you never forget.