"It's something not to be spoken of, which I regret bringing up," he snaps. She's not wrong, though: even now, trying to shut down this particular line of inquiry, there's a certain animation in him that's been missing for a while now.
"My point is, Caitlin, this is the afterlife, not... not grade ten." He swipes his thumb across his brow. "Now, I know I'm here for the purposes of redemption and self-improvement, and I'm not disputing that. But I'd like to believe that there's another way to get there, that doesn't involve me repeatedly humiliating myself in front of my... well, my friends." Which definitely does not make him feel less like a sulking teenager in this moment. He reaches for his tea with a quiet huff.
Of course she's still amused, despite knowing she probably shouldn't be
chuckling at his misfortune, minor though it may be in comparison to those
of others. It's still important to him, after all.
But god, there really is something about him that seems about sixteen years
old right now - something precocious and vulnerable, and she wonders if
that might be when the mask started forming, if what's inside maybe never
quite made it out of those awkward years, and needs to catch up with the
rest of him.
Her smile turns kinder, smaller. "With luck it won't have to," she says. "I
think things only get that bad when you ignore the first couple times the
message tries to get through to you. Once you know what to listen for, it's
easier to recognize. That's been my experience, anyway." She debates asking
again about the otter, but shelves it for now. That's not the button she
wants to push. "So tell me about these friends of yours," she requests
instead, ultra-casually, like she's not being as nosy as she really is.
"Who are you getting along with, besides Ray and me?"
He may be flirting with immaturity, but even at 16 young Benton knew how to listen, and he does listen to Caitlin now. He has to admit it makes sense, assuming the lesson here is that he oughtn't try to close himself off or compartmentalize so much. If he'd had more of an outlet without Victoria, maybe the floodgates wouldn't have opened the way they had. Or, hell, if he hadn't ended up hiding the two of them away, hadn't been so blinded, maybe he would have figured it all out sooner. And Caitlin is right that those weren't the only signs -- just the worst ones.
He's musing on this silently when he realizes she's asking a question, though when he registers what it is he looks like he wants to outright roll his eyes. He hasn't had a mother in a very long time, but that still sounds like a Mom Question. "Good grief," he mutters. "I don't know -- Harry, for one. And..."
Given the givens, it's a terrifically stupid idea not to mention the man he currently knows as Rex, but he keeps that to himself anyway. Surely he's allowed some privacy. "I don't know that I'd say 'friend,' exactly, but I've gotten to know Fiona Goode rather well. She's the one who... who helped me realize what was going on."
"I don't think I've met her," Caitlin muses, but she makes a mental note to
rectify that soon. It is a bit like a mom checking up on her son's
friends to make sure they're on the up and up, or at least not bad
influences, but she would do the same for any of her friends, mostly
because she wished that any of them might have done it for her. She might
have avoided a lot more trouble that way. And maybe Fraser would have, too,
considering what Caitlin knows of Victoria. (Not that anyone actually
in that kind of situation actually listens to anyone who
tells them their friends are no good.)
"But I do know Harry -- not too well, but he lives across the hall, and
I've been bringing him up to speed on modern medicine. He's good. Not that
you need my approval or anything." Because she knows full well that he
doesn't, and no matter how nosy she might get, even if she didn't like
someone, she wouldn't actually order Fraser to stop spending time with
them. That would defeat the whole purpose of this thing where he learns to
make good choices, wouldn't it?
He gives her a bit of A Look -- because no, he does not -- but he refrains from commenting. "Well, I think most of the people I've met here are all right." With certain recent exceptions that will go unnamed, Bill and Ford.
"But Harry and I get along well. I actually knew who he was before we met -- I've read quite a bit about the Franklin expedition, which he was on." He frowns, rubbing his earlobe. "Granted, that's also how he died, so it's gotten a little awkward at times, but I think we've managed well."
She gives a soft, dry laugh at that, and her lips turn up in a smirk. "As
long as it isn't putting a damper on your friendship. Does he know
that's how he died?"
"Oh, yes. We've spoken quite a bit about it." Which has definitely been more than just awkward at times, but he wouldn't change it. It's also deepened their friendship in any number of ways.
...which is, perhaps, something he should think more about than he usually does. Hm.
As if to prove the point his mind is starting to circle around, he goes on. "He also knows about my father, and... and what happened last week. So I imagine, or at least hope, he doesn't find it too one-sided."
Caitlin's smile turns a little warmer, growing with something akin to
pride. "Well, it sure sounds like you're doing alright out there, with or
without my help," she observes. She certainly didn't facilitate their
meeting, or encourage Fraser to open up to someone about the skeletons in
his proverbial closet -- he did that all on his own -- but there's
something to be proud of in that, too. And that alone feels strange in her
mind, like a truth that she's not used to carrying; she's always wanted to
be needed, and knowing that she isn't should fill her with jealousy,
or even spite.
But it doesn't, and maybe that's the difference between being needed and
being wanted.
That reminds him of something else he'd wanted to bring up, something he very well might need her for, and he abandons the revelation he'd been working towards to focus on something more immediately important.
"There is one thing I wanted to ask you about," he admits, turning towards her and leaning in a bit, like they weren't already alone in here. "In the aftermath, I confess, there was someone I persistently kept calling to mind, even knowing they were imaginary, and, well... " He sighs. "I can't deny what a comfort it was."
"And I know it's selfish, inherently and appallingly so, but I find myself wondering if I couldn't try to bring Diefenbaker here, after all." He watches her face hopefully, if a little guiltily.
Caitlin listens, through the awkward fits and starts of his request, tense
with a kind of dread regarding where the conversation is liable to end up
going until he actually gives Diefenbaker's name, and she visibly relaxes
again. She's heard a lot about the wolf, and with Fraser being not only
able but willing to seek out the company of other people, she's pretty sure
that he won't wind up being a social crutch. And if he is, well -- they'll
talk about it.
Besides, she can't deny that she kind of wants to meet this incredible,
brave, deaf, life-saving wolf. He sounds as interesting as Fraser himself.
"I think sometimes you have to be a little selfish," she points out.
"Otherwise how are you ever going to actually get what you want?"
She takes another sip from her mug and sets it down. The companionship
might even be a reward for being bold enough to ask for something for
himself, even if it took him a minute to get there. "I think it sounds like
a great idea. Go ahead and put in a request on the network, and if you need
me to sign off on anything, let me know."
Fraser smiles ruefully at the first part. How is he ever going to get what he wants? "I think you know I don't think about that very much," he points out. Or doesn't let himself think about it, more correctly. That's where his dark side lives, as he sees it: in feeling too much, wanting too much, taking all for himself, and damn the consequences.
But after having Dief around for a week, even an imaginary one, his absence hurts almost as much as Victoria's had. Fraser's smile widens with relief when Caitlin gives him the go-ahead. "Thank you kindly, Caitlin. I think you'll rather like him, and vice-versa." Though thank God for colorblindness, or based on his obsession with blondes, he would never leave her alone.
"Truth be told, I've already started making preparations for his arrival," he adds. "I'd been concerned about fighting between Dief and Mr. Tennant, the werewolf, but Mr. Tennant informs me he's already found a solution." That had been an unexpected but enormous relief; he never could have had Dief here without that piece being resolved.
In that regard, Fraser's dark side and Frost aren't all that different.
Even though they're each capable of different kinds of extremes, and come
with different types of consequences, they both need to find ways to fold
that part of themselves into their psyche. Asking for something like this
feels like a way to indulge the desire to be selfish in a way that doesn't
actually hurt anyone, and might even help, in the end. It's safe, but it's
still a step forward, and builds up the muscle of his ego, so that choices
that seem hard now will be much easier to make in the future. Hopefully,
anyway.
"Oh?" she asks, curious. "You know, I never would have suspected that that
would even be a problem in the first place. What'd you figure out?"
"Oh, I can't take any credit," he demurs. "He and Ms. Wildthyme were the ones who alerted me to the problem in the first place, and he was the one who found the solution, for which I'm certainly very grateful."
"In fact," he muses, "I'm not actually sure what he did -- but he assured me that Diefenbaker won't have any problem being around him, and that's what's most important." Because the way Iris had talked about having to manage her dogs had sounded awful, and degrading in a way he couldn't imagine subjecting Dief to.
"I've also thought about installing a wolf door in my cabin, so he can come and go as he please. He used to use the fire escape in my old apartment, but, well--" He nods pointedly to the windows, which are now definitely not a viable exit.
Caitlin glances over to the windows, nodding in agreement. She's able to
actually go out on her balcony if she wants, and she expects that the fire
escape might also be within the protective bubble of the ship, but it
certainly doesn't go anywhere, so it defeats the purpose. "I wonder
if you could fold that request in with the original one, to get him here in
the first place," she muses. "The Admiral might even be able to put a
filter on it so other people don't try to sneak in -- unless you want them
too, of course, but if there's already a concern with someone else on
board, it might be better to be safe than sorry in this case."
"Oh, I'm not especially worried about that," he says. "It would be wolf-sized, after all, and I rarely lock my cabin as it is." You've seen his cabin, Caitlin. What would even be the point?
Then again, he knows that already leaves room for one particular miniature scoundrel, so he lightly adds: "And, of course, Diefenbaker himself is often all the security I need." He's not a vengeful or violent person in any way, shape, or form (he hopes) but even he has to admit that it would be pretty funny if Bill Cipher tried to sneak in and ended up becoming a temporary chew toy.
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"My point is, Caitlin, this is the afterlife, not... not grade ten." He swipes his thumb across his brow. "Now, I know I'm here for the purposes of redemption and self-improvement, and I'm not disputing that. But I'd like to believe that there's another way to get there, that doesn't involve me repeatedly humiliating myself in front of my... well, my friends." Which definitely does not make him feel less like a sulking teenager in this moment. He reaches for his tea with a quiet huff.
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Of course she's still amused, despite knowing she probably shouldn't be chuckling at his misfortune, minor though it may be in comparison to those of others. It's still important to him, after all.
But god, there really is something about him that seems about sixteen years old right now - something precocious and vulnerable, and she wonders if that might be when the mask started forming, if what's inside maybe never quite made it out of those awkward years, and needs to catch up with the rest of him.
Her smile turns kinder, smaller. "With luck it won't have to," she says. "I think things only get that bad when you ignore the first couple times the message tries to get through to you. Once you know what to listen for, it's easier to recognize. That's been my experience, anyway." She debates asking again about the otter, but shelves it for now. That's not the button she wants to push. "So tell me about these friends of yours," she requests instead, ultra-casually, like she's not being as nosy as she really is. "Who are you getting along with, besides Ray and me?"
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He's musing on this silently when he realizes she's asking a question, though when he registers what it is he looks like he wants to outright roll his eyes. He hasn't had a mother in a very long time, but that still sounds like a Mom Question. "Good grief," he mutters. "I don't know -- Harry, for one. And..."
Given the givens, it's a terrifically stupid idea not to mention the man he currently knows as Rex, but he keeps that to himself anyway. Surely he's allowed some privacy. "I don't know that I'd say 'friend,' exactly, but I've gotten to know Fiona Goode rather well. She's the one who... who helped me realize what was going on."
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"I don't think I've met her," Caitlin muses, but she makes a mental note to rectify that soon. It is a bit like a mom checking up on her son's friends to make sure they're on the up and up, or at least not bad influences, but she would do the same for any of her friends, mostly because she wished that any of them might have done it for her. She might have avoided a lot more trouble that way. And maybe Fraser would have, too, considering what Caitlin knows of Victoria. (Not that anyone actually in that kind of situation actually listens to anyone who tells them their friends are no good.)
"But I do know Harry -- not too well, but he lives across the hall, and I've been bringing him up to speed on modern medicine. He's good. Not that you need my approval or anything." Because she knows full well that he doesn't, and no matter how nosy she might get, even if she didn't like someone, she wouldn't actually order Fraser to stop spending time with them. That would defeat the whole purpose of this thing where he learns to make good choices, wouldn't it?
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Bill and Ford."But Harry and I get along well. I actually knew who he was before we met -- I've read quite a bit about the Franklin expedition, which he was on." He frowns, rubbing his earlobe. "Granted, that's also how he died, so it's gotten a little awkward at times, but I think we've managed well."
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She gives a soft, dry laugh at that, and her lips turn up in a smirk. "As long as it isn't putting a damper on your friendship. Does he know that's how he died?"
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...which is, perhaps, something he should think more about than he usually does. Hm.
As if to prove the point his mind is starting to circle around, he goes on. "He also knows about my father, and... and what happened last week. So I imagine, or at least hope, he doesn't find it too one-sided."
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Caitlin's smile turns a little warmer, growing with something akin to pride. "Well, it sure sounds like you're doing alright out there, with or without my help," she observes. She certainly didn't facilitate their meeting, or encourage Fraser to open up to someone about the skeletons in his proverbial closet -- he did that all on his own -- but there's something to be proud of in that, too. And that alone feels strange in her mind, like a truth that she's not used to carrying; she's always wanted to be needed, and knowing that she isn't should fill her with jealousy, or even spite.
But it doesn't, and maybe that's the difference between being needed and being wanted.
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"There is one thing I wanted to ask you about," he admits, turning towards her and leaning in a bit, like they weren't already alone in here. "In the aftermath, I confess, there was someone I persistently kept calling to mind, even knowing they were imaginary, and, well... " He sighs. "I can't deny what a comfort it was."
"And I know it's selfish, inherently and appallingly so, but I find myself wondering if I couldn't try to bring Diefenbaker here, after all." He watches her face hopefully, if a little guiltily.
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Caitlin listens, through the awkward fits and starts of his request, tense with a kind of dread regarding where the conversation is liable to end up going until he actually gives Diefenbaker's name, and she visibly relaxes again. She's heard a lot about the wolf, and with Fraser being not only able but willing to seek out the company of other people, she's pretty sure that he won't wind up being a social crutch. And if he is, well -- they'll talk about it.
Besides, she can't deny that she kind of wants to meet this incredible, brave, deaf, life-saving wolf. He sounds as interesting as Fraser himself. "I think sometimes you have to be a little selfish," she points out. "Otherwise how are you ever going to actually get what you want?" She takes another sip from her mug and sets it down. The companionship might even be a reward for being bold enough to ask for something for himself, even if it took him a minute to get there. "I think it sounds like a great idea. Go ahead and put in a request on the network, and if you need me to sign off on anything, let me know."
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But after having Dief around for a week, even an imaginary one, his absence hurts almost as much as Victoria's had. Fraser's smile widens with relief when Caitlin gives him the go-ahead. "Thank you kindly, Caitlin. I think you'll rather like him, and vice-versa." Though thank God for colorblindness, or based on his obsession with blondes, he would never leave her alone.
"Truth be told, I've already started making preparations for his arrival," he adds. "I'd been concerned about fighting between Dief and Mr. Tennant, the werewolf, but Mr. Tennant informs me he's already found a solution." That had been an unexpected but enormous relief; he never could have had Dief here without that piece being resolved.
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In that regard, Fraser's dark side and Frost aren't all that different. Even though they're each capable of different kinds of extremes, and come with different types of consequences, they both need to find ways to fold that part of themselves into their psyche. Asking for something like this feels like a way to indulge the desire to be selfish in a way that doesn't actually hurt anyone, and might even help, in the end. It's safe, but it's still a step forward, and builds up the muscle of his ego, so that choices that seem hard now will be much easier to make in the future. Hopefully, anyway.
"Oh?" she asks, curious. "You know, I never would have suspected that that would even be a problem in the first place. What'd you figure out?"
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"In fact," he muses, "I'm not actually sure what he did -- but he assured me that Diefenbaker won't have any problem being around him, and that's what's most important." Because the way Iris had talked about having to manage her dogs had sounded awful, and degrading in a way he couldn't imagine subjecting Dief to.
"I've also thought about installing a wolf door in my cabin, so he can come and go as he please. He used to use the fire escape in my old apartment, but, well--" He nods pointedly to the windows, which are now definitely not a viable exit.
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Caitlin glances over to the windows, nodding in agreement. She's able to actually go out on her balcony if she wants, and she expects that the fire escape might also be within the protective bubble of the ship, but it certainly doesn't go anywhere, so it defeats the purpose. "I wonder if you could fold that request in with the original one, to get him here in the first place," she muses. "The Admiral might even be able to put a filter on it so other people don't try to sneak in -- unless you want them too, of course, but if there's already a concern with someone else on board, it might be better to be safe than sorry in this case."
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Then again, he knows that already leaves room for one particular miniature scoundrel, so he lightly adds: "And, of course, Diefenbaker himself is often all the security I need." He's not a vengeful or violent person in any way, shape, or form
(he hopes)but even he has to admit that it would be pretty funny if Bill Cipher tried to sneak in and ended up becoming a temporary chew toy.