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[Nov. 25th, 2009|08:43 pm] |
Fraser has only been present at this convention for four hours, and already he's managed to return a lost child to his parents, spotted a fault in the temperature regulation controls for the sauna during a rather enthusiastic tour of the hotel facilities, assisted a wheelchair-bound attendee in the absence of such from the hotel staff, and assured many more staff that Diefenbaker really is rather harmless, as long as one doesn't leave their lunch out where he can get to it: though it's quite possible that his baleful stare is indeed the undoing of many.
His internal apprehension about the event has not dissipated, but he reminds himself that much like his Consular duties back in Chicago, his presence is in fact serving a greater good-- in this case, a well-respected wolf charity. It's equally fortunate, he thinks, that the convention organisers have been considerate enough to put him up in an entirely different hotel than that of the event-- a far less expensive one, at his own insistence. It might perhaps be a delusion of security, for he is becoming rapidly aware how resourceful fans can be.
Diefenbaker, on the other hand, is in his element. It's been an effort to keep the wolf in sight; for as much as he is independent and capable of taking care of himself, Fraser's concern is more to do with the possible effect of the overindulgent nature of his legions of admirers on his internal organs. |
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[Sep. 25th, 2009|09:33 pm] |
It was strange-- even though he was aware of the possibility-- to come back to the Knight Estates on Friday evening to the rooms he and Meg share, to find them distinctly devoid of her presence. For a brief time, after he has checked voice messages and even email to be sure she has not left any urgent missive that might require him to ... well, to interfere ... he resolves to go back to Chicago, but he checks that impulse after further thought; after all, if she does indeed require his interference, better he stay close at hand, where she knows he will be.
Instead, he opts to change from his working uniform into his casual attire of jeans and shirt, before he heads to the workshop. He's got a bookcase to finish.
Even aware as he is that she is quite capable of taking care of herself, he worries. She is operating in a different capacity these days, taking chances and acting alone without the benefit of the law behind her, only her own guile and a unique super-intelligent car as backup.
A car with an overly-impressive array of technology at its disposal.
She'll be fine. And if she's not ... he'll know. Somehow. He'll know.
For now, he'll try and lose himself in the process of assembling the laquered pieces of wood into their final form. |
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[Sep. 3rd, 2009|10:44 pm] |
It's been something of a day, certainly, but for once, it's not involved walking around in a sewer or hiding in a closet, or being in the back of a garbage truck with another man's fiancée. This afternoon heralded his sudden presence at the wedding of someone he's never really met, and a woman who thought for several minutes he was that man he's never met, which was all kinds of awkward. And now, after his work hours have concluded, and he has avoided Christian Tisdale's relentless schedule, he has quietly scheduled a meeting with the organisers of a convention off the Consular premises at a local coffee house several blocks away.
Fraser pauses to check that his brown working uniform is in order, sliding a hand over the front to ensure it lies flat and that his buttons are in place. Then he notes the ring-- the wedding ring-- on his left hand, and pauses, looking at it in the mirror, then looking down at the newly cast Canadian gold around his finger.
A question he never thought would enter his head does so anyway: Should he wear it to this meeting, or even to this convention? He has been made acutely aware of his public, celebrity status in the last few months, and the mail he's been receiving ... well, it's clear that he is incredibly popular, for many reasons, and some of them might even be innocent ones. The media interest is just beginning to taper off, especially now that he has been here for several weeks. Meg's work is important work, and he knows well that in order for her to do that job effectively, she needs to be out of the public eye. If news of his lost bachelorhood gets out, he's all too aware of what backlash it could create - and if she is at any point engaged in some kind of undercover work, it could very literally put her life at risk.
Even with that rationalisation, he cannot help but feel the guilt weigh heavily on him as he slides the gold circlet from his finger. It's not necessarily right, but if her safety depends on it, then he has to do what he has to do.
It doesn't help.
The ring is wrapped carefully in a sliver of soft doeskin and tucked into his pouch before he turns to Diefenbaker.
"Your adoring public awaits," he says, moving towards the door.
"Rrrf." |
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| The shape of things to come |
[Aug. 20th, 2009|10:25 pm] |
Fraser enjoys woodworking, but unlike most people, Fraser's skill is not acquired as a hobby; in the Territories, one's ability to work with rather than against one's immediate environment can be the difference between life and death. Under those circumstances, one must be able to identify in the dark or in a blinding blizzard what kind of tree one is interacting with: understand each type of wood's particular grain for creating shelter, its relative softness, its density for creating a raft; whether it will stay dry more easily to catch an ember for a fire, whether its sapling will bend adequately to make a bow, if it will bear edible fruits, if it is diseased, and be able to hear the sap running in its trunk.
Fraser can do all these things and more besides thanks to his Inuit mentors while he was growing up, and to his extensive, voracious appetite for absorbing information. But it is a different thing to use those skills in another way, when one is not on a hunt, or needing to survive. When one can take the time to truly appreciate and handle the wood and shape it into something that will last forever, barring accident or fire, it's more than just a hobby; it is an investment of the self, and the creation of a very personal legacy.
The wood he works with now is a fine cherry, aged for a year, and the shavings that fall from the hand plane are like slivers of autumn at his feet.
Surrounded in this small workshop by the traditional tools of the trade, Fraser feels, despite his great personal distance from the country he was born in, very much at home. |
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[Aug. 2nd, 2009|10:49 pm] |
It's the third week of Fraser's posting in Chicago. In that time, he's already managed to foil a purse snatching (and then get the snatcher some work as a mechanic for the owner of a cat rescue), investigated a poisoning, given approximately twenty-three interviews, attended five photoshoots, eight private functions, given eight public school lectures and been an escort to the Consul General at three 'diplomatic' dinners, although the number climbs to twelve if he counts the number of dinners at which she was not actually present, and he was in fact the point of interest.
What Meg suggested this weekend sits ill with him; the idea that he may be a front for something he would never consent to, whether it be in principle or by the rule of law.
It is with some distinct measure of relief, therefore, that he absorbs himself in the morning's more routine work-- background checks and applications for various classes of visas. Even as he does so, he is searching for an opportunity-- one that will give him a legitimate reason to rebel against Tisdale's arduous public schedule. |
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| A hard night's day |
[Jul. 13th, 2009|04:46 pm] |
Fraser is used to getting little sleep, but last night in particular was somewhat rougher than most; thoughts of the message he received and all its implications at the forefront of his mind. Regardless of his lack of rest, however, Consular business continues apace, and this morning he is charged with conducting visa interviews, perhaps with the sentiment from Sgt. Platt that he cannot possibly get into trouble if he's involved with paperwork and not wandering around at large in Chicago's streets.
He might possibly be right. |
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| Notes from Chicago |
[Jul. 12th, 2009|03:18 pm] |
Fraser has had little time for a great deal of anything this week; between Tisdale's constant schedule of public appearances (which he endures, as he's relatively sure demand will wane very shortly), and the somewhat ridiculous amount of personal correspondence he's been receiving-- much to Platt's discontent-- he has been devoting most of his spare moments to responding to those missives in turn.
No longer is there a disorganised cart in his room, however. Now there are boxes, with assigned 'categories' of mail-- those from schoolchildren, those from professional organisations, those for Diefenbaker (the contents of which Diefenbaker himself has been avidly keeping track, he is certain), and those from ... well, from rather less professional sources.
It is that category he finds he responds to least often, despite his best intentions, for he is not certain how to respond in a manner that will not upset or offend. Today he once more sits at his desk in his room during his lunch break, and contemplates the drafted reply to the first such letter he had received for what must be the hundredth time.
Ms. O'Reilly,
I thank you kindly for your recent missive. You are clearly a very generous young woman, as is evidenced by the gift of your photograph. It is indeed well composed and lit, though I wonder if you really intended to neglect wearing undergarments-- or indeed any garments at all. Rest assured I did not contemplate this error in any great detail, and thus you need have no worry that your dignity or honour has been broached in any way, or that the image in question will circulate beyond the confines of my quarters, or indeed, my lower desk drawer.
Your dreams sound rather extremely vivid in nature, and I generally attribute such to that experienced with a low-grade fever, or the side effects of certain medications. In any event, I am sure they will abate in time, and trouble you no longer.
Kindest regards,
Constable B. Fraser |
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| Just keep swimming |
[Jun. 23rd, 2009|11:16 am] |
The indoor pool within the Knight Estates is a mixed work of Victorian splendour and modern convenience; located in what seems to have been an arboretum of sorts, largely covered by a curved glass roof with delicate cast iron accents, the decor is complimented by a host of greenery, helping to soften the stark modern elements that have since been added. The sun glitters down into the pristine waters, a sparkling effect that ripples along the tiled walls.
It's been a long time, Fraser realises as they approach the poolside, since he indulged in the pastime of swimming for purely leisurely reasons. |
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| There is a garden in every childhood... |
[Jun. 9th, 2009|03:16 pm] |
It's been some time since Fraser embarked upon a school visit; and he well remembers the somewhat lacklustre response he engendered from the children he was speaking to-- apart from the one boy who seemed obsessed with toilet functions.
Perhaps today will be a little more rewarding, he thinks, as the youth he's speaking to today are ostensibly somewhat older and have theoretically grown beyond interest in bowel-related topics.
" ... and the continually evolving role of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in the communities in which we serve." |
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| Brave new world |
[Jun. 4th, 2009|10:28 pm] |
Fraser's first foray into the city of Chicago in this new and unfamiliar world is thankfully positive; twelve years have wrought some changes, but the essential character of a city never shifts, and the streets are still familiar. As always, oblivious to the stares he garners as he walks past, Diefenbaker alternately ahead or behind him investigating his surroundings as he goes.
So far, so good. The address for the Consulate, however, is not one with which he's aquainted, and he doesn't recall it from his own memory of the city. He pauses at the corner of North Michigan Ave and East Lake Street, and gazes upon the skyscraper that looms behind the building across the street. It seems entirely incongruous with the small, historic building he was accustomed to; likely shared with any number of offices and businesses. He takes out the paper containing the address from the pouch on his uniform belt and looks at it again, just to be certain. As if another check might reveal an oversight, or a mistake.
He isn't so fortunate.
Fraser's head tilts up to gaze upon the glass and steel structure once more, then he glances down at the wolf sitting next to him, who meets his look with dark wolfish eyes. "Oh, I'm sure it'll be fine," he says. "There's plenty of windows, a good view ... "
Who's he trying to reassure, himself or the wolf?
"Well. The day won't work itself," he concludes, and after settling the paper back into his belt, Fraser sets off across the street towards his destination. Diefenbaker chuffs and sets off after him.
The entryway is large and grandiose, and contains a huddle of people at the doors as Fraser approaches. Media of various kinds, he deduces from the cameras - televisual as well as photographical - and the various other paraphernalia that accompanies reporting crews. A few local stations, he notes from the vans; one being an NBC affiliate with which he became rather familiar during the trial of the Bolt brothers. They appear to be waiting for someone, though he has no idea who, and it's not within his purview to be curious about it since he's on his way to report in for duty and Fraser has no desire to be late.
If he can help it, that is.
Diefenbaker trots ahead - ever the attention seeker - and he seems to cause a ripple effect as his presence registers.
"There he is!" says one person, and suddenly all eyes are on the Constable walking towards the front doors.
Fraser stops dead in his tracks as a horde of people descend upon him, microphones and notepads in hand, and some who just seem plain excited, as he realises exactly why they're here.
"Oh dear." |
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| The sun is but a morning star |
[May. 23rd, 2009|02:11 am] |
The following morning in their new residence brings with it a luxury Fraser has, until recently, not thought he would ever be granted: the luxury of waking slowly to the reminder that he is sharing a bed with a woman he loves more profoundly than he can articulate.
Morning's light is still in its infancy, a reddish-orange cast that slips across the end of the bed and gives the still-sleeping Diefenbaker's coat a golden hue.
In the past, he has not delayed rising from sleep to begin his usual ablutions. But of late, he has found himself increasingly reluctant to do so. There are no prizes for guessing why. |
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| UnderTheRainbow-verse Post Chronology |
[Apr. 20th, 2009|03:46 am] |
A timeline of post sequences, for those just tuning in! ... or not.
* First post in UTR comm
* Meeting at the safe house to try and make sense of what's going on.
* Fraser retreats to a local coffee shop and resolves that he needs to go to Toronto.
* UST happens. Then it's not so much UST anymore. (No NSFW content)
* The morning after.
* Fraser leaves for Toronto to break the news to the family of the man he's replaced in person.
* Meg's having trouble sleeping in his absence. (The wolf in the bed probably isn't helping)
* Fraser returns from Toronto with a hell of a lot more emotional baggage than he'd anticipated - including the knowledge that they're considered fictional characters.
* Fraser's lateral re-entry exam into the RCMP is approaching. Six weeks apart means trying to make the most of the time they have. Fraser takes Meg to dinner, and an unfortunate encounter means Fraser has to be the one to tell her they're works of fiction in this world.
* Pillowtalk after the last post. There is shirt-wearing from Meg. Rowr. Fraser accidentally-sort-of proposes without even realising it.
* Fraser gets his acceptance letter from Depot. The pair of them go to the museum and run into some schoolchildren and another fan, though with slightly less creepy results this time.
* Letter-writing between Meg and Ben while he's at Depot.
* In his absence, Meg begins reviewing the TV series versions of their lives.
* Meg visits Ben in Regina. Nookie later ensues. Really hot nookie. Then showering. And hair brushing.
* More letters.
* Fraser's (re)graduation from Depot. Assuredly, seriously NSFW later on in that post.
* Later, Meg breaks the news of her research reluctantly to him: his encounter with Victoria was not as private as he had believed, in this world. Fraser vanishes to try and deal alone.
* The morning after that emotional bomb dropped. Fraser's watched the episodes in question for himself. Meg tries to prepare for an important meeting at the Knight Estate in the wake of it.
* Meeting the Knights and Kobie. Fraser gets ... distracted.
* Meg has a one-on-one with Kobie to get an understanding of her potential future partner.
* After the conversation, Meg and Ben mull over the job proposal. There is more angst. And more certainly NSFW content.
* Fraser is notified that his posting details have been delayed. Meg's resignation from CSIS is complete, much to her relief. Fraser intentionally proposes, this time. In a highly roundabout fashion. What should be a relatively pleasant evening is halted unexpectedly by the arrival of a package from Toronto.
* Getting ready to move.
* First day in the new digs. [NSFW]
* Fraser gets a rude awakening the next morning: His father's found him.
* Meg gets to test drive Kobie for the first time.
* Meg's had a great day. Fraser gets his posting assignment. Celebrating ensues. [NSFW]
* Fraser's first day proves to be far beyond anything he expected.
* Fraser attends a function that same night, and finally gets a chance to call Meg afterwards.
* Fraser's second day on the job involves a newspaper interview, and a meeting with Emma Harrison.
* Fraser makes a school visit, foils a purse snatching, and meets the purse's owner.
* Meg's log entry about Fraser's return to Chicago
* Fraser comes home for the weekend. Meg and Ben indulge in a picnic on the grounds. Fraser Sr. shows up again.
* Pool talk. The question of children is discussed; decisions (and love) are made.
* Meg sees Ben off for another week
* Fraser copes with a deluge of fan mail.
* And then tries to reply to it all.
* Fraser receives voicemail from someone he knows -- or rather, thinks he does.
* Fraser is on visa application duty, but Fraser being Fraser, nothing is ever quite so simple.
* After the Consular incident, Fraser returns to speak with Sgt. Platt. Platt gives him a little advice that seems somewhat obtuse.
* Home again for the weekend.
* Reflecting on the call he received, and the memories that call brought forth.
* Riding. Fraser resolves to no longer be pushed around in Chicago, and wonders about the merits of contacting the man who called him.
* After riding, nookie in a jacuzzi. Then there's talk as he combs her hair. Fraser accidentally stumbles upon a realisation-- his father knows something about his mother he hasn't told him. And so do potentially millions of other complete strangers.
* A little slice of home.
* Fraser's third week in Chicago, and he finds himself presented with a unique manner of getting out of Tisdale's relentless schedule - but his CO isn't happy about his method of doing so.
* At the same time, back in London, Meg and her new partner, the A.I. Kobie, go for a drive - and end up embroiled in something far more sinister.
* And as if her new, unintended investigation isn't enough, then she finds herself face to face with a man who looks uncannily like her fiance.
* After that shock, Meg has to get back on the road and bring the illegal shipments to a halt.
* Following the successful but unplanned mission, Meg has a conversation with Hattie.
* Meanwhile, Fraser spends his lunch break talking with Hourani about the convention invitation he received. Among other things.
* Meg finally manages to get to call Ben in Chicago. He comes home for the night.
* A more pleasant morning following an arduous night.
* Meg calls Geoffrey, but he's not really a phone person.
* Ellen shows up at the Consulate, much to Fraser's surprise... and shock.
* After clearing up some confusion, Meg and Ben take Ellen to Geoffrey.
* Fraser engages in some woodworking to calm his thoughts after that experience... and the two of them somehow end up eloping.
* Back at the estate. [nsfw]
* While Ben sleeps, Meg writes him a letter.
* Meg makes a house call on Geoffrey Tennant.
* Meg and Ben are asked by an unlikely pair to be witnesses to their elopement.
* Fraser meets with the convention organisers.
* Unsettled by the meeting, Fraser decides to come home mid-week.
* Meg receives a briefing on her first mission.
* Meg goes to pick up Kobie.
* Meg sets out on her first official mission.
* Frustrated with her lack of progress so far, Meg decides to check on another potential lead.
* Meg and Kobie are on a stakeout.
* Meg has to deal with some not so friendly individuals.
* In Meg's absence, Fraser busies himself with finishing the bookcase he promised her - and has a conversation with his father.
* A cellphone offers a new lead, and a plan.
* Another stakeout, and a success.
* Back at the estate, Fraser is going through his fan mail when Meg arrives home.
* A new mission for Meg and her Mustang partner means going undercover... in Chicago.
* Meg calls Ben in Chicago to tell him what little she can on an unsecured line about her new mission.
* In Chicago, Meg meets Ben at the Consulate, but it's not what Benton was precisely expecting. They meet at her new apartment later. NSFW-ness ensues.
And I -think- that's up to date for now. |
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| Post-haste |
[Mar. 29th, 2009|10:35 pm] |
He's been waiting five days-- eventful ones-- for news of his posting since graduation. In the intervening time, he has dealt with more emotional baggage than he thought he would ever have to encounter again; a mental storm that would have dashed his heart upon the rocks had it not been for the woman he is currently sharing living space and-- yes, a bed-- with.
It's more than just living, now. He is invested in her, in a manner he never thought, or truly sought, to encounter again after Victoria's unwelcome intrusion.
Diefenbaker's needs attended to for the morning (feeding, a brisk walk, despite complaints about the latter from the wolf), he sits at the small table to go through the day's mail. The circulars are set aside with his usual precision, as he would have done while still posted at the Chicago consulate. Bills are set aside, in another neat pile.
And one, bearing an all-too-familiar crest, surfaces.
His posting. It has to be.
He contemplates for a moment opening it after Meg arrives home. But then he finds that he needs to know first, to adequately prepare himself for whatever is within. To give himself time to find an appropriate response, to be able to tell her himself.
The envelope is torn open, and he begins reading past the formal declarations.
... We regret to inform you that the specifics of your posting have been unexpectedly delayed ...
His brow furrows as he reads the words. Delayed? Why? Have they suddenly changed their minds about permitting him back on the Force? He searches his mental reserves, trying to think of any possible regulatory reason that could account for such circumstances. He can think of none, barring any improper results on his exams that might need to be retaken. He continues reading, to see if there's any clue within the formal text.
... fully expect this matter to be resolved within a fortnight ... like to assure you that this will not affect your salary or standing as a Peace Officer of the RCMP ...
He sets the letter down. Something doesn't seem right about this, but he doesn't know if there's anything he can do. |
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| Change, like sunshine, can be a friend or foe |
[Mar. 25th, 2009|12:06 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
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The fingers of dusk are beginning to set in across the expansive Knight estate, as Fraser accompanies his former superior officer-- who is now his partner, in every sense of the word-- in a pensive walk around its grounds. Diefenbaker can be spotted from time to time, a white blur as he investigates and barks at pigeons and squirrels, his curled tail waving like a banner behind him. The day has brought with it yet more questions than answers, and the last forty-eight hours in particular have brought a great deal of upheaval, both personal and professional.
Fraser is content to walk in silence, his Strathconas crunching the gravel beneath his feet in steady cadence, for his thoughts are often held private and in abeyance. There's much to try and digest, but ultimately, the final choice on this offer is hers, and it is her decision that matters. Where she goes, he will follow, for that was his promise; not merely as a subordinate, but as a partner.
And as a lover, though that last definition sits awkwardly with him; Victoria's taint upon his heart still far too fresh-- or perhaps more appropriately, still a festering sore that was turned just last night back into a raw, open wound. |
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| Ghosts |
[Mar. 10th, 2009|03:49 pm] |
The night had been far from restful. He had tossed and turned in his sleep, despite initially slipping into the soothing darkness of oblivion wrapped around her. Sleep brought little comfort, for it brought with it Victoria's spectre; enhanced by the twisted notions of a large, voyeuristic and faceless presence watching him tear himself apart.
When Meg wakes, he is no longer in the bed. Diefenbaker is lying across her feet, and the dawn is only barely breaking. |
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