Chapter 6: The Ration

The partners were seated in the resort restaurant after choosing that they would rather not search all over town for a place to eat, whereas reservations were required.

The restaurant was a little more upscale than the casual ambiance of the resort, so Fraser had changed into dark, dressier pants. The Mountie had also thrown on a nice dark blue coat which he borrowed from the Detective to refine his appearance. It fit a little snug and the length was a little long for him, but it wasn't that noticeable.

Ray had flinched when Fraser had completed his "dark blue" outfit, and of course didn't say anything. If he did, he would have to not only think about but also explain his dream. Ray just changed into a black dress shirt.

The men ordered and waited for their meal. The Detective wasn't even paying much attention for he asked for iced tea when actually he hated the stuff.

Fraser decided this would be an opportune time to discern what was going on with his partner since the beach outing.

Meanwhile, Ray unknowingly had his elbows perched up on the table while twiddling his fingers together nervously. His eyes were staring over Fraser's shoulder, but his mind was not present to the surroundings.

The Mountie noticed this and decided to just wait patiently for their food to arrive. Perhaps Ray needed a little space, because after all, they just landed in Miami and hadn't really settled in yet. It was like trying to turn on a television without it being plugged in. You had to do things in the right steps and in the right order.

They were seated in the centre of the room, but closer to the entrance door. The restaurant was in a spacious rectangular room, with round tables in different sizes to fit varying amount of people. The tables were decorated with white linens and a copper-coloured ceramic piece of the Freedom Tower that was actually located in Miami Beach. A special touch was added with faux diamonds sprinkled around the centerpiece tower.

The rest of the place complemented the table, from the established colours of red, black, and white to the sparkling light fixtures above.

Fraser wondered how Diefenbaker was doing back in Chicago. With all the food and attention of the Vecchio household, the wolf was very well taken care of. He grimaced at the thought. At first it seemed to be a suitable arrangement, but now he concluded that it could mean trouble if the wolf expected to be treated like a king when Fraser disembarked back to the Windy City.

He looked back at Ray. The Detective had let up on the finger twiddling and was now leaning on the table. His eyes were still staring over Fraser's shoulder, except it looked as if Ray was in some deep introspection compared to the blank look before.

Fraser let out a breath. He was a Mountie, not a shrink. So what exactly did he expect to accomplish?

Their meal arrived. Ray snapped out of it enough to actually notice. He dug into his food.

The Mountie let out another breath and started his own food.

The Detective scooped up his mashed potatoes subconsciously. He knew the tasty food was there to enjoy, but he had other things on his mind. What a "surprise"that was. He had things on his mind this whole week.

Ray had come on this vacation to solve his anxiety. Not that he had much. It was so faint, yet he could not ignore it, let alone make it go away. What was it? Mostly just that feeling deep inside that something was missing. Something he was lacking of. Couldn't it just be he needed time off and now he got it? No, that hadn't proved to be the answer. It was more like something was removed from his life. Or was he lost from something else?

Again, subconsciously, he reached for his drink and was greeted with…yuck!

"Fraser!" Ray suddenly snapped. "You let me order iced tea?"

The Mountie looked as if he were about to respond, but thought better of it as he didn't know what to say. He did that a lot.

"Forget it," he spat. Literally.

Now even more uncomfortable, Fraser shifted in his seat and averted his eyes as he took a sip of his water.

Ray glanced at the Mountie and sighed. "Sorry about that, Benny."

Fraser nodded in response.

"So anyways, you do look pretty swanky with my jacket on," Ray prodded, smiling a little.

The Mountie again nodded in response. He didn't fully comprehend the word "swanky", but figured it was a complement. "I do like this material. Perhaps I should get one of these jackets as well."

The Detective pretended to frown. "I don't want you to dress like me. Soon you'll be walking like me, talking like me…"

"I'm sure I will keep my Canadian instincts intact, Ray."

The Detective imitated the Mountie. "Understood."

"Thanks, my…my 'homie'," Fraser stammered. He smiled.

"Benny?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"Don't."

Side note: After using more interesting chapter titles, and then having the last two very simplistic (The Wardrobe, The Beach), I decided to let you do a little thinking on this one.

The word "ration" is defined as: "a fixed portion that is allotted; restricted consumption of a relatively scarce commodity, as during war (especially food)".

So I'll leave it to you to be subjective. Or, I'll give a large hint: think of what they are physically doing, and then what they are mentally doing.