Disclaimer: I don't own Due South and I'm not making any money from the characters. I'm just borrowing them for a while and you can have them back when I'm done.

Warning: This is a story about self-harm. If you don't like that don't read it.


The Darkness within

Stanley looked at the blade in his hand. He was always Stanley and never Ray when he did this. The dim light cast grim shadows over the blade, making it look more sinister than any kitchen knife should look. Stanley ran the side of the blade across the top of his thigh. He knew that all he had to do was break the skin a little. The point of the exercise wasn't to draw a lot of blood, nor was it to kill himself. Stanley didn't want to die; he just wanted to feel something, anything that would remind him that he was alive. The hollow feeling inside him grew each day, until it got to the point where he felt like it was suffocating him; he felt like it had taken over his body and there was no room left for him. It was at that moment in time when he used the blade. It was as if the pain in his leg was the pain in his soul escaping his body.

Stanley got up and grabbed a towel from the cupboard. He cleaned up the cut and pressed on it until it stopped bleeding. It wasn't a really deep cut so it didn't take too long to stop it from bleeding. Stanley threw the towel in the laundry basket and went to bed.

The next day, as he'd expected, Ray's leg hurt. When he moved it was just a dull pain, like background noise, but when he pressed it or knocked it, it hurt like hell. Ray had been doing this long enough that he knew how to hide it from his co-workers. He knew that they wouldn't approve; they wouldn't understand. He'd probably be tied to a desk and his gun taken off him. They'd probably think he was suicidal but he wasn't; he wanted to feel life, not lose it.

Up to date Ray had been very successful in keeping his coping mechanism secret but now Ray was partnered with Fraser. Now Ray would need to be extra careful because, even if he thought up a really good excuse for the most recent cut, Fraser would insist on seeing it, to make sure it wasn't infected or something, and, when he did, he wouldn't be able to help but notice all of the old scars.

Ray pulled up outside the Canadian Consulate and waited for Fraser. He didn't have to wait long; he never did.

Barely half an hour after picking Fraser up, Ray was chasing after an unarmed Fraser, who was chasing after an armed criminal. Ray's jeans were rubbing against the cut with every step he took and, for the first time since he began cutting himself, Ray began to think that maybe it was a bad idea. Problem is though, he didn't know of any other way of coping with his job. It was a ritual he had begun after a case which had chilled him to his bones, Beth Botrelle. He had been consumed by the darkness of the case, by its brutality. He'd only been a rookie back then. Maybe that had been the problem.

They had caught the criminal. Well actually the criminal had turned his gun on Fraser and Fraser had told him some story about some Inuit ritual or other before pointing out that his partner, Ray, was standing behind the criminal with his weapon pointed at the criminal's head. The criminal had surrendered - victory to the good guys! Ray had only one thing to concentrate on now - walking normally. He could manage not wincing, he'd had practise at that but if he started walking funny (trying to stop his jeans from rubbing the cut so much) then Fraser would notice. When they started chasing their second criminal of the day, Ray knew he was fighting a losing battle. When he was driving back to the station and he felt the blood oozing from the cut, trickling down his leg and gluing skin to denim, Ray knew the battle was lost. He needed some excuses quick, not just for the fresh cut but for all of the old scars too.

Fraser hadn't said a word while Frannie had cleaned and dressed Ray's wound. He had just stood there, a strange look upon his face. AS Ray drove Fraser back to the consulate the silence had been eerie. Even Dief had seemed more distant than usual, kind of subdued. Fraser got out of the car and let Dief out before leaning into the car, through the window.

"Next time Ray, call me. Partners is sharing Ray; that wasn't buddies." Ray had just nodded. What could he have possibly said to that? It was kind of cryptic, even for Fraser, and yet both men had understood.

Fraser had understood that if he had confronted Ray about the cuts Ray would have become defensive and lied to him. He had understood that Ray needed a friend not a judge. Ray had understood that Fraser knew what he had done and why. Ray wondered if maybe Fraser had done the same thing himself, somehow Ray doubted it - the Mountie had too much control for that. Maybe someday he'd ask Fraser how he copes.

Logic and Instinct, a duet. Now Ray knew that this partnership really was different and Fraser really did understand.


So what did you think? Please R&R.

P.S. I promise the stories will get happier. I'm just typing up a few that I wrote while on the checkout at work.