There it is, and for a moment the desire to shut this down before it even starts is so strong that his whole body seems to tense up, even his hands going kind of white-knuckled on his tea. He doesn't want to do this, and she knows he doesn't want to do this, and it doesn't make sense to when she must already know what's happened.
Something in him wants to be fiercely angry that she's trying it anyway, but after the library, anger scares him more than anything else he could feel; so he tries to stamp it all back down, making his voice cool and terse. "Caitlin."
He looks up at her face, finds her ready to listen, wanting to help... and just as suddenly, the fight goes out of him. He sighs, the tension in him going slack again, his expression going tired and hollow. He still doesn't want to go into the excruciating details, but he doesn't want to fight. There has to be some kind of middle ground. He has to be able to just... tell her what he needs.
Which he tries to, quietly, wearily. "I thought it was her. I really did. But it wasn't, and honestly... I'm ready to put it behind me. All of it, I mean. Victoria." He blinks a few times, rapidly, like he's getting misty -- but then he just looks back down at his tea, and no tears come. "I'm ready to put Victoria behind me," he says again, very softly, like he has to confirm it for himself.
She sees the cold come over him as surely as she's felt it on herself, and
she regards him steadily, unmoving even in the face of the clipped way he
says her name like a warning.
Caitlin doesn't say anything. She doesn't push any further than she already
has, and yes -- she knows she's toeing a line, here, but if she doesn't
take the risk to nudge Fraser right to the edge of that line, close enough
to see what's on the other side of it, then she's not really doing her job
as well as she could.
She's relieved when he does speak, in words that are quiet and a little
ragged, like something inside of him is starting to get a little scuffed
up, not quite as pressed and polished as the facade he wants to show the
world. And even if there's an exasperation with it, even if he's
tired, she knows this can only be good. Caitlin smiles, and makes a
sort of aborted attempt to reach for his hand, thinking better of it almost
as soon as she has the thought in the first place. The truth is enough, for
right now, without having to heap physical contact on top of it.
And she's skeptical, but he repeats the phrase with a little more
confidence, and she's sure that she can believe him. This, she'll take at
face value. "Good," she says, still gentle, with the quietest emphasis.
"I'm sorry you had to go through something awful like that when I wasn't
there to help. You know if I'd been awake I'd have been right there with
you, right?"
"I'm glad you weren't, honestly." That's not because of Caitlin herself, as stressful as things between them can be at times. It's that thinking about anyone else 'meeting' the fake Victoria makes him shudder with phantom humiliation. He sighs, rubbing his brow -- not his usual little tic of discomfort, but like he's been awake for 72 hours straight. Tired is hardly even the word for it at this point.
"I let it go for far too long," he admits. "Three, four days. I didn't even question it." He frowns, another spike of anger coursing through him, this time self-directed. Mostly self-directed, anyway. "My mind filled in all of the gaps. She had a door, she said she was an inmate..." He shakes his head, presses his lips tight together. He doesn't want to be this angry about it. He can't be this angry about it. Not at himself, and not at the people who set him up to stumble like that.
"And it makes sense," Caitlin says. "If you don't know that there's another
reason that something is happening, the simplest explanation is usually the
correct one. It's a lot more logical that someone from your life back home
would appear here as an inmate than her presence being the result of a
spell. It just isn't the first thing you come to - especially if it's
something you really want to be true." She shrugs, but there's still
sympathy in her eyes.
He smiles a tiny bit now, though without much humor or happiness. "I'm all right when I'm not thinking about it," he murmurs. "I spent the last couple of days off the ship, down in Portland with some of the others, and it helped. I felt pretty close to normal by the time I made it back."
"But when I learned the truth before that," he goes on, smile fading, "and when I think about it now, I feel..." He trails off, and after a moment, shakes his head, leaving it there.
He feels. He feels a lot of things; too many things. He's trying to remind himself very forcibly that the feeling isn't a problem in and of itself, because he's started to realize that there's something of a pattern forming: the harder he pushes down that piece of himself, the worse things get when it pushes back. And that's the lesson he'd forgotten about Caitlin Snow and Killer Frost, isn't it? It hadn't worked that way for them, either.
"Embarrassed?" she volunteers, without judgment. "Ashamed that you could
let yourself do something like that?" She really is just guessing, based on
what she knows of him and how she might have felt if the specter of one of
her exes had shown up on the barge shortly after her own arrival. And how
she did feel when she was dragged to Zero to melt back into Dr.
Snow. "Maybe even beating yourself up because you think that you should
know better?"
"I should have known better," he insists quietly. "It's humiliating."
Even if his subconscious had helpfully stepped in to flesh out the details, had given her a door and an inmate backstory... What does it say about him, or about him and Victoria, that he'd spent three full days happily in love with a figment of his imagination and hadn't questioned it once? Of course he's ready to be done; if it was that easy to fake, it was never as real as he thought it was from the start.
"You know better now," Caitlin points out, and takes a sip of her tea.
"That's sort of why we're here, isn't it? We can keep on making the same
mistakes over and over until we actually learn what we're supposed to from
them." And if she's being honest with herself -- and she should be
-- she's starting to wonder if maybe there isn't a mistake of her own she's
caught in, even if it wasn't the one she was brought here to learn. But
that's not the point right now. "The fact that you're embarrassed by it
probably means you're moving in the right direction."
"Oh, God," he groans with unusual theatricality. Unusual for Constable Fraser, RCMP, anyway. Not nearly as strange for the man behind the mask -- it's almost exactly the petulant, biting tone he used to take with his father.
"What's next, in that case: I get to relive the Otter Incident of '71?" Which he instantly regrets mentioning, and quickly holds up a hand to forestall her. "Don't ask, please."
This is new, she thinks, and strangely refreshing; she hasn't had to poke
too hard or push too far to get an honest reaction, and it hadn't even been
preceded by the tension that usually splits fine fractures into his facade
before it cracks open. It's like the whole terrible event really did
do some good.
Her laugh is soft and genuine, with an arched eyebrow and lingering smirk.
"Oh, come on, you can't just bring something like that up and tell me not
to ask. I'm asking: what, pray tell, is the Otter Incident?"
"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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
orite prose is a thing
Something in him wants to be fiercely angry that she's trying it anyway, but after the library, anger scares him more than anything else he could feel; so he tries to stamp it all back down, making his voice cool and terse. "Caitlin."
He looks up at her face, finds her ready to listen, wanting to help... and just as suddenly, the fight goes out of him. He sighs, the tension in him going slack again, his expression going tired and hollow. He still doesn't want to go into the excruciating details, but he doesn't want to fight. There has to be some kind of middle ground. He has to be able to just... tell her what he needs.
Which he tries to, quietly, wearily. "I thought it was her. I really did. But it wasn't, and honestly... I'm ready to put it behind me. All of it, I mean. Victoria." He blinks a few times, rapidly, like he's getting misty -- but then he just looks back down at his tea, and no tears come. "I'm ready to put Victoria behind me," he says again, very softly, like he has to confirm it for himself.
Re: orite prose is a thing
She sees the cold come over him as surely as she's felt it on herself, and she regards him steadily, unmoving even in the face of the clipped way he says her name like a warning.
Caitlin doesn't say anything. She doesn't push any further than she already has, and yes -- she knows she's toeing a line, here, but if she doesn't take the risk to nudge Fraser right to the edge of that line, close enough to see what's on the other side of it, then she's not really doing her job as well as she could.
She's relieved when he does speak, in words that are quiet and a little ragged, like something inside of him is starting to get a little scuffed up, not quite as pressed and polished as the facade he wants to show the world. And even if there's an exasperation with it, even if he's tired, she knows this can only be good. Caitlin smiles, and makes a sort of aborted attempt to reach for his hand, thinking better of it almost as soon as she has the thought in the first place. The truth is enough, for right now, without having to heap physical contact on top of it.
And she's skeptical, but he repeats the phrase with a little more confidence, and she's sure that she can believe him. This, she'll take at face value. "Good," she says, still gentle, with the quietest emphasis. "I'm sorry you had to go through something awful like that when I wasn't there to help. You know if I'd been awake I'd have been right there with you, right?"
no subject
"I let it go for far too long," he admits. "Three, four days. I didn't even question it." He frowns, another spike of anger coursing through him, this time self-directed. Mostly self-directed, anyway. "My mind filled in all of the gaps. She had a door, she said she was an inmate..." He shakes his head, presses his lips tight together. He doesn't want to be this angry about it. He can't be this angry about it. Not at himself, and not at the people who set him up to stumble like that.
no subject
"And it makes sense," Caitlin says. "If you don't know that there's another reason that something is happening, the simplest explanation is usually the correct one. It's a lot more logical that someone from your life back home would appear here as an inmate than her presence being the result of a spell. It just isn't the first thing you come to - especially if it's something you really want to be true." She shrugs, but there's still sympathy in her eyes.
"You look exhausted."
no subject
"But when I learned the truth before that," he goes on, smile fading, "and when I think about it now, I feel..." He trails off, and after a moment, shakes his head, leaving it there.
He feels. He feels a lot of things; too many things. He's trying to remind himself very forcibly that the feeling isn't a problem in and of itself, because he's started to realize that there's something of a pattern forming: the harder he pushes down that piece of himself, the worse things get when it pushes back. And that's the lesson he'd forgotten about Caitlin Snow and Killer Frost, isn't it? It hadn't worked that way for them, either.
no subject
"Embarrassed?" she volunteers, without judgment. "Ashamed that you could let yourself do something like that?" She really is just guessing, based on what she knows of him and how she might have felt if the specter of one of her exes had shown up on the barge shortly after her own arrival. And how she did feel when she was dragged to Zero to melt back into Dr. Snow. "Maybe even beating yourself up because you think that you should know better?"
no subject
Even if his subconscious had helpfully stepped in to flesh out the details, had given her a door and an inmate backstory... What does it say about him, or about him and Victoria, that he'd spent three full days happily in love with a figment of his imagination and hadn't questioned it once? Of course he's ready to be done; if it was that easy to fake, it was never as real as he thought it was from the start.
no subject
"You know better now," Caitlin points out, and takes a sip of her tea. "That's sort of why we're here, isn't it? We can keep on making the same mistakes over and over until we actually learn what we're supposed to from them." And if she's being honest with herself -- and she should be -- she's starting to wonder if maybe there isn't a mistake of her own she's caught in, even if it wasn't the one she was brought here to learn. But that's not the point right now. "The fact that you're embarrassed by it probably means you're moving in the right direction."
no subject
"What's next, in that case: I get to relive the Otter Incident of '71?" Which he instantly regrets mentioning, and quickly holds up a hand to forestall her. "Don't ask, please."
no subject
This is new, she thinks, and strangely refreshing; she hasn't had to poke too hard or push too far to get an honest reaction, and it hadn't even been preceded by the tension that usually splits fine fractures into his facade before it cracks open. It's like the whole terrible event really did do some good.
Her laugh is soft and genuine, with an arched eyebrow and lingering smirk. "Oh, come on, you can't just bring something like that up and tell me not to ask. I'm asking: what, pray tell, is the Otter Incident?"
no subject
"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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
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."
no subject
"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?
no subject
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."
no subject
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?"
no subject
...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."
no subject
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.
no subject
"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.
no subject
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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
"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.
no subject
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."
no subject
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.