Constable Benton Fraser

Office Hours [Tuesday]

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 11:45:28 GMT

Fraser was grateful to have his body back. It was nice to have a familiar center of gravity again. Fraser was celebrating this fact by...doing some light reading of the criminal court case precedent variety.

It was a hobby.

The door was open.

[As is the post.]

OOC: Icons

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 20:06:56 GMT

I haven't done these in awhile and I had a request for one so, here's a few:

1	2	3	4	5
6	7	8	9	10
11	12	13	14	15
16	17	18	19	20
21	22	23	24	25
26	27	28	29	30
31	32	33	34	35
36	37	38	39	40

Fraser's Office [Saturday Early Afternoon]

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 02:58:39 GMT

Fraser wasn't hiding. Really. His office was comfortable and it wasn't weird that he'd been up before Robin after going to sleep after her.

Just coincidence, really.

He hoped this was almost over.

[Just for one person and set before the switching back!]

A Tortuga Rainforest [Tuesday Evening]

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 21:50:41 GMT

Since they were no longer in Antarctica and Fraser knew just how happy that made Robin, he decided to take her out. Of course, his version of taking her out meant hiking boots and comfortable clothing and a backpack full of picnic things.

It was romantic...in an outdoorsy sort of way and the rainforest they were currently walking through was amazingly beautiful.

[For the Canadian dancing queen]

Office Hours [Monday]

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 17:55:04 GMT

Since it was the first day of a new term, Fraser was in his office, doing what every good administrative person does on the first day of a new term: paperwork.

Paperwork was just another word for boring.

Not that Fraser would ever ever admit that.

[Office hours are open.]

Office Hours [Tuesday]

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 15:26:49 GMT

Fraser was glad to see there was no cleanup needed in his office after this weekend. It might he could do nothing but mindless, busywork to keep his mind on other things.

Today's mindless busywork was completely reorganizing one of the file cabinets.

[Office hours. Open hours.]

MCA #-1 [Sunday Night]

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 02:43:22 GMT

It hadn't been a very chatty walk home. Fraser was tired, worried, tired, and still very disoriented to really want to talk too much.

As it was now, he was leaning heavily against the door and fumbling with his keys to get it open. He wanted to be home though. He had to check for himself that everything was still there.

[For, well, come on, you know who.]

MCA #-1 [Thursday Late Night]

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 02:05:33 GMT

Fraser had fallen asleep a few hours ago, sprawled on his stomach with one arm across Robin's side. The dogs were around the bed, sleeping as well with one minor exception.

Minor exception's name being Popcorn who was sleeping on Fraser's back, all curled up against his t-shirt and out like a light.

Fraser had meant to stay up, to make Robin some dinner but he'd been too tired to resist the pull of sleep.

[For his afternoon delight. NFB, please because it's after radio.]

Office Hours [Friday]

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 15:36:12 GMT

With the week nearing completion and most of his work done, Fraser came into the office just in case anyone needed to see him.

Oddly enough, he'd been feeling casual this morning and was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. There was a first for everything, apparently.

Dief had been confused initially but sleep had won out and he was now asleep in front of the desk. Fraser was straightening bookshelves and shredding documents.

The door was open.

[As is the post]

MCA # -1 [Friday Evening]

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Sat, 31 May 2008 00:19:49 GMT

Fraser had been home from work for a little while. He'd spent that time showering, playing with the dogs and puttering around in the kitchen. They needed groceries pretty soon.

Now, he was in the back bedroom, folding a fresh batch of laundry and making face at Popcorn who was playing with the socks he'd laid out on the bed.

Office Hours [Tuesday]

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Tue, 27 May 2008 15:22:04 GMT

Fraser still wasn't sleeping very well at all. Last night, he'd managed a whole three hours. As a result, he was half asleep at his desk with the door ajar. Dief was curled up on the rug in front of his desk, eyes open in case he had to wake Fraser up.

Fraser, meanwhile, had dozed off into a light sleep right in the middle of signing something.

[Despite appearance, office hours are open.]

MCA #-1 [Saturday Evening]

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Sun, 25 May 2008 00:36:58 GMT

With the week finally over, Fraser hoped that spending the weekend not keeping busy wouldn't come back to haunt him. So far, he'd managed to avoid thinking about anything too bad, had managed a small, quick nap, and hadn't had to watch Robin like hawk since she was no longer drunk.

He'd tease her about that sometime. He'd have to. It was too funny not to.

In the mean time, he was sitting on the couch, legs stretched out in front of him and not paying attention to the movie that he'd turned on.

MCA#-1 [Friday Morning]

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Fri, 23 May 2008 16:44:37 GMT

After wrangling his very drunk girlfriend home last night, Fraser had decided to allow himself some extra time to sleep in. Of course, he hadn't done much sleeping between making sure Robin didn't swallow her tongue and everything else that was skittering through his head.

So, he was mostly awake now, dozing lightly enough to hear her move if she did but not quite all the way awake and alert.

[For she who is a DRUNKARD.]

MCA #-1 [Tuesday Evening]

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Tue, 20 May 2008 20:52:53 GMT

Fraser had debated staying late at work, getting things done that had languished while he was out of town and, thusly, avoiding everything else that he knew he had to face.

In the end, he decided that going home was just more appealing despite his mood. Still, being at home was far better than being cramped up in an office with paperwork.

He pushed open the front door, already unbuttoning his jacket and hanging up his hat.

Motel Just Outside of Chicago [Late Sunday Night]

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Sun, 18 May 2008 23:09:20 GMT

	It wasn't the fanciest place in town but there was a bed and a blanket and a shower and that was all that was needed at the moment. Everything felt...different. He felt different. He wanted to cry and scream and ask questions and think about his decisions. He wanted to go home and he wanted to go back and he wanted forgiveness and he wanted to be angry. All he did though was a get a key from the manager and walk blindly to their room, holding the door open for her.
	And all Robin wanted was to sleep. Or drink. Or smoke. Or throw up. What she ended up doing was going inside and dully sitting down on the bed.
	Fraser closed and shut the door behind her, checking the lock several times before turning around and leaning against it. "Is your face all right?" he asked quietly.
	"Yeah. I'll take something for it," she said softly, sliding her shoes off.
	"All right," he said, pushing away from the door to go and check the windows before wandering into the bathroom and shutting the door till it was only cracked. The faucet came on shortly thereafter.
	Her shoes off, Robin took the opportunity to get up and sift through her bag for aspirin, which she took quickly with some water. She eyed the door, debating sneaking out for a cigarette. Her hands were still shaking.
	Fraser, meanwhile, doused his face with as cold water as he could find, trying to clear the fog from his brain. It didn't work. He looked up, stared at himself in the mirror and rubbed his chest, rubbed where the muzzle of the gun had been pressed.
	"I'll be right back. Going out to get some air," she said through the door, grabbing her purse and ducking out of the room for a second. Once she was outside, it took her so many tries to work her lighter that a guy nearby just offered her a light. Of course, the gesture itself almost made her jump, but was appreciated nonetheless.
	He heard the door close before he had the chance to say anything. It was probably for the best since he wasn't managing words very well right now. He finished in the bathroom and wandered back into the living area, sliding his boots off and shrugging out of his jacket. He thought of going out there and checking on her but didn't want to crowd her. So, he moved over near the window and leaned against it, pressing his face against the cool glass.
	Robin finished her cigarette, carefully stubbing it out. She didn't feel right, still. But it had helped a little with the nerves for now. So when she let herself back in, her hands weren't shaking, at least. "Hi."
	"Hi," he said, turning away from the window to look over at her. "Get good air?"
	She nodded, setting her bag aside before going to sit on the bed. "How're you doing?"
	"You should put some ice on that bruise," he said, frowning at it. "It's going to be painful tomorrow."
	"It's fine," she said softly, tucking her legs up against her chest.
	"Maybe we should have gone to the hospital," he responded just so it wasn't quiet. "You might have a concussion."
	"I'm not concussed. The guys checked me out," she argued quietly, pressing the good side of her face against her knees.
	"It looks like it hurts is all," he said meekly. "I don't want you to hurt."
	"I don't," she lied softly. She just felt so weird and numb and she didn't know what to do.
	He knew she was lying. Even if that bruise didn't hurt, he knew other things had to hurt. "Robin," he said, frowning at her. "Don't lie."
	"I'm fine," she said tightly.
	"Please?" he pleaded quietly. "Please, don't lie."
	"Did I do okay?" she asked in a small voice.
	"You did better than I could ever have imagined," he said, surprising himself with the words. They were true, undoubtedly. He just didn't think he had them in him. "You were amazing."
	"I spent the whole time thinking I was going to mess up," she said softly, closing her eyes.
	"You didn't." He had. "Robin, you didn't. It's all right. We're...it's...done."
	"I'm going to take a shower," she said suddenly, getting up and moving into the bathroom.
	"Okay," he said quietly, looking down and closing his eyes. He didn't know what he was feeling, whether it was anger or sadness or relief. It was just some uncomfortable feeling that was suffocating. He spared one more look to the bathroom before going over to the bed and sitting heavily on it. He flopped onto his back shortly thereafter and stared at the ceiling.
	Robin turned on the water, but didn't even undress or really pay attention. She leaned back against the door, sliding down against it until she was sitting, and took a few shaky breaths. She didn't know when the tears started. They were quiet. Private. Necessary. She felt just a little better for having done it, and turned off the shower a few minutes later. She didn't even realize how obvious it all was until she wandered out, and realized her hair wasn't even wet.
	"Doesn't look like it was much of a shower," he said, eyes flicking over to her when the door opened.
	She just shrugged, going to sit on the edge of the bed.
	"Okay," he said because she didn't want to talk to him and he understood that. He wasn't the best of company right now. He turned away, back to her and stared at the wall.
	"Are you okay?" She needed to ask, and she hated that her voice cracked. That was why she had been avoiding the talking thing.
	"Sure," he mumbled, curling a little into himself. "Fine."
	"'Cause I'm not." Robin would later reflect that it really said a lot about how screwed up she was, that it took her so long to admit she wasn't okay after, you know, a run-in with his criminal ex-girlfriend who -- on top of everything else -- knocked her in the side of the head with a gun.
	He blinked at the admission and turned back around, peering over at her. "Tell me." He could try and listen and be helpful. He could be stoic and loyal. He knew how to do those.
	She shrugged, curling up on herself again. "I just -- I've never done anything like that before. Any of it. I didn't know what to do."
	"God, Robin, I hope you've never done that before and I hope you never have to do anything like that again," Fraser said emphatically. "You did everything right. You were perfect and I hope you never have to be perfect like that again."
	"I just wanted to distract her," she mumbled, dropping her face onto her knees and willing the damn crying to just go away. She didn't need to be crying, because that never solved anything, and she didn't do that. Especially where people could see.
	"And you did," he said as reassuringly as he could. "You were brave and unwavering and you distracted her. You did everything right."
	"And I kept thinking she was going to hurt you and I've never shot anyone and I'm not using you and I'm not sorry I hit her." The words were just falling out of her mouth now, and she tried not to sniffle or anything that might give away that she was crying. Like the cracking voice might not do it. This was so embarrassing. "She's horrible and I hate her and she deserves worse and I was just really scared and I'm sorry. Except for hitting her."
	"Robin," he mumbled, pushing himself up and scooting closer before reaching for her and pulling her against him. "She did hurt me. Not physically and it's nothing I can't heal from. I know you're not using me." He'd never admit that he'd thought about it for a split second. "And you don't have to be sorry you hit her. Don't be sorry. Don't be scared anymore." He still was. "Don't be sorry. Don't be. It wasn't your fault."
	And somehow being held like this made it worse. "I'm not even a little sorry on that, don't worry," she mumbled, almost laughing, though it was muffled. She almost didn't care how unattractive she probably was at the moment. "And I know she hurt you and I don't know how to fix any of it and also earlier I went outside to smoke and I don't think you know I do that." Might as well just confess to everything at once, apparently.
	He almost laughed at the last little detail but stifled it and shook his head. "No, I didn't know that. Don't worry about fixing me right now. Just...concentrate on yourself." And he'd do the same and ignore his own mental state. "It's not irreparable. Robin, I'm sorry I did this to you. I'm sorry my past is so ugly. I want it to be like yours. I want to have friends like yours and have stories like yours and I'm sorry I gave you this story to tell. I'm so sorry." He was proud that his voice was only shaking by the end.
	"Not your fault," she said quietly, shaking her head and wiping her eyes quickly. "'sides, it's kind of an awesome story in retrospect. I get to be funny and punch her in the face, and then get pistol-whipped, which is just an awesome thing to be able to say, even if it hurts like a bitch now."
	"It is my fault," he said shakily, arms tightening around her. "I thought she'd pull that trigger and, for a moment, I thought I'd earned it. That sounds horrible but I felt like the worst person. I felt worthless." Apparently, it was his turn for a breakdown. He'd been keeping everything under lock and key for so long that some was bound to come spilling out. It was easy to hide the tears slipping out of his eyes though considering where she was against him.
	"Not your fault," she repeated softly, getting her breathing under control. "It's hers. Just hers."
	"Robin, yes it is," he said and shook his head. "I said yes. I said yes and I knew what would happen and I said yes and I came here and then I said yes to you." He choked on the words. "Everything is my fault. Everything is always my fault."
	"It's not," she said emphatically. "She manipulated you. Not your fault. Not at all."
	"Who let himself get manipulated?" Fraser asked, feeling the anger kick up at that. "Who put himself in that position? Who brought the person who should have never seen something that ugly in the situation? I exposed you to that because I needed you there more than I needed to be smart. And now this is something you won't forget and she hurt and I didn't stop it. I didn't stop any of it. It is my fault." And he hated himself right now.
	"It's not like I didn't bitch until you agreed to take me," Robin pointed out softly.
	"It doesn't matter," he said, shaking his head and closing his eyes. "Doesn't matter. It's my fault. I get to live with that."
	"It's not your fault, Benton," she sighed, snuggling a little closer, feeling a touch more relaxed. "And it went so much better than it could have."
	Where she was relaxing, he was tensing again, trying to not let it show, trying to reel himself back in and put it all in a tiny box. Lock it up and throw away the key and only look at it when he was alone. "Sure. Fine," he said quietly. "Of course it did."
	Except how she knew him better than that. "We're both here. She's not. We're fine. It's fine."
	"It's not fine," he said quietly and shook his head. "No, it's not. I got over this once. I got past it. This time was worse. This time was so much worse and I didn't even get shot. Maybe I should have gotten shot. Given me something else to think about."
	"How was it worse?" she asked, sitting up a little to look at him. "No one's shot. She's in jail. We're fine. It's going to be okay."
	"It just was," he told her quietly. "For me, it was worse. I buried that part of me as best I could. It didn't work. I tried to forget about her. It didn't work. I don't know what's true and what's a lie right now. I don't know anything."
	And the numbness and nausea were making a return. "Do you need to be alone?"
	"I don't know what I want," he admitted quietly and looked down at the bed. "I want to forget all this."
	Robin nodded, extracting herself to tuck her legs up against his chest. "Me too."
	When she moved, he kind of didn't know what to do with his arms other than to drop them slack at his hands. "I can...I can get another room if you don't want me in here," he offered, barely able to say it. "If it makes you uncomfortable."
	She just turned her lead to look at him. "...yes, because what I want more than anything right now is to spend the night alone. Or for you to. No. Please."
	"Good," he said and released a breath. "I didn't want to leave. I don't want to leave. Maybe I should shower."
	"It might help," she offered softly.
	"All right," he said and rolled off the bed, disappearing into the bathroom without a word. The water came on a few moments later.
	Robin wondered if his shower was going to go like hers had. In the meantime, she numbly got up, moving over to their bags to at least change into pajamas. With that, she curled up on the bed and started flipping through channels.
	Fraser actually did manage to get into the shower, turning the water as hot as it could go and then just stood there. For awhile.
	She wondered if maybe she should call Barney and check on the dogs. He'd probably still be awake. Calling her mom or Lily was out. She just really missed the dogs.
	After his skin started to hurt, Fraser turned off the water and wandered back into the room, managing to give her a small smile. He dropped down on the bed with a sigh and settled on his back.
	"Did you know that if we order Debbie Does Dallas Again or Mothers Do It Too, the title won't show up on our bill?" Robin asked, flipping through the pay-per-view.
	He turned his head to look at her a little oddly. "What's Debbie doing in Dallas?"
	Robin just raised her eyebrows. "She is doing Dallas."
	"Doing what to Dallas?" Fraser asked, still oh so confused.
	Robin gave him a look. "Sex."
	"Oh, it's a pornography," he realized. "Oh. Well. I'll just cover my eyes."
	"I'm not ordering porn," she assured him. "It was a joke."
	"Oh." Oh, he should have known that. Everything was just blurry and weird tonight. "Sorry."
	She gave him a little smile. "When I don't know what else to do, I try to be funny," she said, shrugging slightly.
	"I'm sorry," he apologized again. "I'm just...having a bad night."
	"No shit," she said softly. "What can I do?"
	He rubbed the heel of his hand against his eye and asked, "Do you still love me?"
	That stopped her still. "Why wouldn't I?" she asked quietly. "Of course I still love you."
	"Because this is so bad," he whispered. "You keep thinking I'm a nice guy and I'm not. I'm easily manipulated and stupid and blind. I'm not who you think I am."
	"You're exactly who I thought you were," she replied. "You're not stupid. You just have a blind spot the size of Ontario when it comes to that bitch, and after watching her with you, I get why. There is nothing wrong with you."
	He stared at the ceiling for awhile longer, letting those words ring in his ears before he rolled over and pressed his face against her stomach because he needed contact and he needed her and he needed to feel safe for just a small moment. Just for a minute.
	Her hand immediately found his hair, stroking his head gently as she smoothed his hair down.
	"I love you too," he mumbled and kept his face against her stomach, eyes closed. "I'm sorry you got hurt."
	"You didn't. I got me hurt," she replied softly, smoothing her hand along his hair.
	"But you were hurt," he said and closed his eyes against that. "And I'm never going to forget that."
	"I'm fine, and it got the gun off you," she pointed out quietly. "It got her to a point where you could stop her."
	"Yeah," he said and swallowed thickly. "I wish you hadn't seen that either. The gun on me."
	"Mm." She would have nightmares about that one, yes. "It's not exactly the highlight of my day, no."
	"I just didn't want the gun trained on you," he explained quietly. "If she had it on me, she didn't have it on you. That was all right."
	She smiled a little. "But then we got the gun off both of us. It's okay."
	"It's not," he whispered and closed his eyes. "Hopefully, it will be."
	"We're fine. We'll be okay. And tomorrow we'll go home and see the dogs," she said softly.
	"Yeah," he said and sort of wrapped himself around her, clinging tightly and keeping his face against her stomach. "Yeah."
	"And I bruise easy and I promise this doesn't hurt," she added quietly, stroking his hair. "Want to try to get some sleep?"
	"Maybe," he said but he had to admit, he was exhausted everywhere. Everything was tired. "Will you?"
	"I'm tired," she said, and it wasn't a lie. "We probably won't sleep much, but we should."
	"Okay," he said and didn't move. He liked it like this. "Can I stay here?"
	"Of course," she said, smoothing her hand over his hair and closing her eyes.
	"I love you I love you I love you I love you," he mumbled a few times because he wanted her to know, to believe that he did despite his crappy past.
	"I love you too," she said, relaxing a little in spite of herself. Look, the bitch was the only other woman he'd ever loved. She was a little insecure, despite the idiocy of being so.

[And, once again, preplayed with the most awesome canadianpopstar. NFI. NFB. OOC OK.]

Just Outside of Chicago [Sunday Night]

just.add.starch@gmail.com — Sun, 18 May 2008 20:37:38 GMT

	Fraser wasn't much of a talker by nature. He talked when he had to, when he had something to say, when he wanted to but he extraneous conversation wasn't a talent of his. Due to a combination of anger, fear and nervousness, Fraser had been quiet almost the entire trip off island. He didn't speak to Robin save for a few words. He stared straight ahead and tried not to think. If he thought too much, he'd remember. If he remembered, he'd never be able to do what was right, what he needed to do. And they were getting closer to the meeting point. And he was remembering.
	Robin was busying herself with checking her gun. It was funny. She'd never used it on a person. And she'd never thought she'd have to. She needed to focus on something, or what they were doing would catch up to her. It was all well and good to be heroic and protective in theory, but the actual practice of what was happening had started t register. And if she didn't find something to occupy her mind, the actual fear would set it.
	"When we get there," Fraser said and kind of hated that they almost were there, "you have to stay in the car."
	"Why?" Robin asked, reholstering the gun for about the eighty-ninth time.
	"Because she doesn't know about you and she thinks I'm coming alone," Fraser told her. "If you get out of the car with me, whatever she has planned, whatever opportunity I have to end this won't happen."
	She nodded. "We should have a signal or something."
	"You're going to have to use your best judgment on this one," he told her. "She'll know signals."
	"Okay," she said softly, biting her lip as she slid a little lower in the seat. "I can do that."
	"I'm sorry," he said because he was. It was his past, his fault, his life, and now she was involved and that was the last thing he wanted.
	"No apologizing," she said softly, turning her cell phone on vibrate.
	He shook his head but didn't argue. They were pretty much at the place he'd been told to go and he stopped the car gently but didn't move. He didn't see her yet anyway. The alley was dark, lined with boxes and locked doors. She'd make a grand appearance and he hoped this would be done with quick. "I want to go home," he said very quietly, almost to himself, staring straight ahead.
	"We could," Robin offered, sinking lower in the car just in case. "She's not here or anything."
	"No, she is," he said and gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. "I'm getting out. Stay in the car." With one quick, meaningful glance at her, he opened the car door and slid out, closing it behind him. He walked slowly, not wanting to startle her wherever she was, kept his hands out, palms up, to show he wasn't carrying anything.
	She knew he'd come. He was predictable and easy and loyal to a fault. So, when she saw him approaching, she smiled. This might be easier than she thought. "Ben," she greeted, all silky smoothness and confidence. "You look good."
	From where she was in the car, Robin peeked, very carefully, to see who they were dealing with. She had stupid hair.
	"Thank you," he said because it was almost automatic. "You look...it's good to see that you're still well."
	"I wasn't sure you'd come," she said, smiling a little smugly and taking a step closer to him. She caught his eyes, kept them, didn't look away. "But, you did."
	"You asked me," he said, holding so still he thought he might shatter. It'd been a long time but he remembered how she smelled, what she sounded like, that cold, nearly deadly first meeting and it was blinding him. "What do you need from me?"
	"Now, now," Victoria said, stepping ever closer and tilting her head up to his, smiling softly. "There'll be time for that. Shouldn't you ask how I am?"
	"I didn't realize this was a cordial meeting," Fraser managed to say. He tried to think of Virginia, of his home, of the dogs, of his birthday and found it all slipping away from him. "How are you?"
	"Lonely," she said which was a lie. But, it was a smooth one, one she'd told many men over the years and all of them believed it. "I've missed you." And that was somewhat less of a lie. "I'm sorry about our last meeting," she said, dropping her voice to a low whisper.
	"I was going to go with you," he said, voice full of reproach and disbelief. "It would've been the wrong choice."
	"You're a liar," Victoria said, stepping until she was almost pressed against his chest, leaving barely a breath between them. "Does your back hurt?"
	"Stop," he said, almost pleaded. "Just tell me what you want."
	"I bet it does," she said and boldly reached around, fingers skimming over the scar, burning through his shirt and making him wince automatically. "Right there, isn't it? I'm sorry for that. It wasn't my fault, you know. I didn't want that to happen to you."
	And right around then was when Robin strode up, having slipped out of the car a few minutes earlier. "Wow, you are so not as pretty as me," she said, smiling coldly. "Get away from him. Now."
	For her part, Victoria didn't startle nor did she jump back. She stepped back with all the gracefulness of a dancer, giving away nothing with her expression. "I told you to come alone."
	"Robin," Fraser warned, blinking a few times to clear his head, "go back to the car."
	Victoria fixed Fraser with a look that morphed into a smile. "She's with you?"
	"He traded up," Robin said dryly. "So step off, Cryptkeeper."
	"I'm surprised, Ben," Victoria said, ignoring Robin for the moment. "I didn't know I was so easily replaced in her heart. After all we shared, all we went through, all you did to me." And she was stepping closer once again, still ignoring Robin, eyes on Fraser. "You can tell me if it's a lie."
	"Stop it," Fraser whispered, feeling like he was caught in the worst nightmare his mind had ever created. "Please, just cease this and tell me what you've called me here for."
	"All of those things I did, I did them because I love you," she whispered close to his ear. "I called you because I still do. And you still love me too. Admit it. It won't hurt."
	"Right, because I remember the last time I got the guy I love shot," Robin said loudly, feeling vaguely nauseated. "Diamonds are out, bullets are in! I'm not going to say it again. Get. Away. From him. Bitch."
	Victoria finally turned her attention to Robin, face easily changing from charming and seductive to disdainful. "He doesn't need you anymore. And I would appreciate a quiet atmosphere while I handle this affair. So, please..." And Victoria actually shoo'ed her away.
	"And I'd appreciate my weekend not being disrupted by some horrific bitch who, if there was any justice in the world, should've died messily about eighteen perms ago. So, um, no," Robin replied easily, sounding much more confident than she felt.
	"If you two could both stop," Fraser finally found the words to say, "this could be over that much easier. Victoria, stop delaying and just tell me."
	"It's a simple thing," Victoria assured him, smile back on her face. "A simple matter of you wearing your uniform into a bank and gathering some information for me."
	"You want me to scout a bank you're planning on robbing," Fraser guessed dully. He really wanted to go home.
	"You were always observant, Ben," Victoria replied, letting her wide smile speak as her answer. "You gather the information that I'll supply you and give it to me and then you'll be done." She pressed her lips to his ear again. "Your debt will be forgiven."
	His debt. Of course. He still owed her. It was his fault she was like this. His fault. Of course. "All right," he heard himself say.
	She hummed a little in his ear before stepping back and turning to Robin. "Really, I don't know what he's told but he didn't bleed that much that day I left." That was just her being cruel.
	And that was when Robin punched her squarely in the nose.
	Fraser...had not expected that. He didn't expect Victoria to go stumbling backwards, grabbing her nose and spitting profanity. And he really never expected Robin to throw such a mean jab.
	It took Victoria a moment to get her bearings, for the searing pain in her nose to quell enough that she could open her eyes and see. As soon as she could see, her hand was reaching into the pocket of her coat and pulling out a small handgun. She settled it on Robin first, almost daring her before moving it over to Fraser. "You are very lucky I'm in a forgiving mood, Ben," she said tightly. "Or I wouldn't just be holding this on you right now. I told you to come alone and you brought my substitute!"
	"Your better," Robin corrected softly, eyes trained on the gun as she immediately crossed her arms around herself. One hand was sneaking under her jacket.
	Fraser could tell the situation was rapidly spiraling to a place where he'd lose any opportunity to do anything. "Do it this time," Fraser said, trying to get Victoria's attention off of Robin. "You didn't do it last time. Do it this time. Shoot me. I've already got one scar on my back, give me another on my chest."
	"Don't push me, Ben," Victoria snapped off tightly, hand tightening around the butt of the gun. "Don't bait me. I didn't have to do it last time. Your partner did it for me. You were going to give everything up for me and, instead, your partner shot you." Her hand didn't waver. "What do you think would have happened if you had come with me? Huh?"
	"I don't know," he admitted shakily, quietly. "I...wasn't thinking of our future. I was thinking about you."
	Victoria let the muzzle of the gun rest against his chest, pressed it hard enough that he could feel it. "I would've gotten bored with you," she said, smiling cruelly. "I used you. Everyone uses you. You're just too blind to see that. I'm sure your friend here uses you for her own reasons. And I'm going to use you. Again. Because you're just too dumb to say no."
	She didn't know what else to do. Robin drew her gun, aiming right at Victoria, and pointlessly reflecting that this probably wasn't what her dad had in mind for her when he'd taught her to shoot. She willed her hands to stop shaking. "You do anything to him, I'll kill you." She idly wished someone who really was a badass had said that. She wasn't even sure if she believed it, though she'd said it as smoothly as she could.
	For a minute, Victoria gave no indication that she'd even heard Robin. She just kept the gun pressed to his chest, finger dancing over the trigger before she moved far quicker than she had a right, swinging the gun at Robin, aiming high and intending just to eliminate this constant nagging presence.
	Well. If nothing else, it would make a great story. How many people could start a conversation, "Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I got pistol-whipped?" It surprised her, in any case, enough to knock her down. She hadn't really registered the sharp pain coursing through her face.
	Until then, Fraser had been floating on some fog of detachment, trying not to let himself get too caught up in her again. It hadn't worked and he'd almost been pulled under when he saw Robin crumple to the ground from the corner of his eye. Because of him. Of course. Another debt. Of course. Without thinking, he got his feet moving and plowed into Victoria, sending them both crumbling to the ground. He kept his weight on her, scrabbled to press the hand holding the gun to the ground. She wasn't going to make it easy, struggling and scratching, catching him sharply on the cheek once. Her wrist slipped from his grip, hand bringing the gun back up almost to his face before he slammed it back down and held it there. And then he was just staring at her.
	"Let me go," she whispered through her panting. "Ben, let me go. You have to let me go."
	"No," he whispered through a tight throat, using his free hand to reach for his cell phone. "No, this is done."
	"Let me go," she said again, looking up at him with soft eyes. He always found it amazing how easily her expression could change. "Come with me. We can fix this. We can be together."
	"God, will you just shut the fuck up?" Robin asked, rolling her eyes and peeling herself up off the ground. She gingerly touched her face, moving her jaw around to make sure she could. Yay, no breakage. "You lose. I hope a scary mass-murdering chick with a mustache makes you her bitch in prison."
	All Fraser said was, "It's over," before he was on the phone with the local police department. It didn't take them long to arrive and, once they had, Fraser finally got to his feet again, watching blankly as she was handcuffed and led away, shouting about his debt and owing her one until he was certain he'd hear that voice in his dreams.
	Robin dropped her gun twice trying to holster it, though thankfully after she'd gotten the safety on. But she was fine, really. "Do we need to talk to the cops or go to a hospital or something like they do on TV?"
	"I gave them a statement," he said dully, turning to look at her, at the bruise blooming on her face. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"
	She shrugged, shaking her head a little. Ow. "I'm fine."
	"Okay. I..." He had no idea what to do. "I need to leave. I can't be here anymore."
	Robin reached for his hand, balked, and shoved her hands in her pockets. "Lead the way."
	"All right," he said and took a moment to look around, find the car and then headed towards it as quickly as he could.
	Robin hurried after him as quickly as she could manage, since her head had started swimming. She wanted to be away from here.

[Preplayed with the faboo canadianpopstar. Be sure to tip her on the way out. She's here all week. NFI. NFB. OOC okay!]

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