Neon    Neon by Laura Shapiro

 Author's webpage: http://www.sirius.com/~lshapiro/vanity

 Author's notes: This is Part I of my series called "Coming to Light".
Eventually (muse willing and the creek don't rise), it will span all four
seasons of the show.

  

 TITLE: Neon
 SERIES: This is Part I of my series called "Coming to Light".
 AUTHOR: Laura Shapiro
 FEEDBACK: God, yes. Laura@humandesign.com ARCHIVE: Sure, but please ask
me first. RATING: PG-13 for language and...stuff
 SPOILERS: The Deal
 SUMMARY: What happened after the credits rolled. DISCLAIMER: If they
belonged to me they'd get what they deserve, especially Franny.
 SPECIAL THANKS: To Te for audiencing and great suggestions, and Dawn
Pares for beta and general loveliness. 

 Neon by Laura Shapiro 

 "Don't be afraid." 

 The hallway was chilly, but she'd spent a fortune on this lingerie and
she was damned if she wasn't going to use it. 

 If she stopped to think about how crazy this was...but it was too late
for that. He was staring at her. Not quite the way she'd hoped he'd stare,
but close enough. 

 Staring with wide eyes, an expression like a small animal about to get
run over. 

 She could work with this. "Can I come in?" 

 "Of...of course, Francesca." Diefenbaker looked up at her, whuffing
politely, and things became familiar, somehow. Fraser's own habitual
politeness was smoothing over his surprise and, well, she supposed it was
alarm. It was mostly gone now, though. He was sitting up, painfully.
Starting to rise. 

 "No, no, don't get up." 

 She closed the door behind her, took a deep breath, and sat down on the
bed. The bodice's boning stabbed her unforgivingly in the ribcage, and the
garters were icy and unfamiliar against the backs of her thighs. 

 Fraser tried to move -- genteelly making space for her on the bed, always
such a gentleman -- and winced. She hadn't realized how badly he was hurt,
but the dim glow from the window highlighted his cuts and bruises in neon.


 A rush of need throbbed through her, and her fingers tingled. How she
wanted to soothe him! Lucky Elaine had gotten to patch him up, and she
hadn't wasted any time telling Franny every last detail. Well, who was
here now, Elaine, sitting on his *bed*? 

 "Please." She reached out, touched his hair, crisp and soft and a little
damp. Brushed it away from a cut on his forehead. "Don't try to move." He
was so goddamned gorgeous. 

 "Francesca...was there something...what can..." She watched his throat
working, loving the muscle under the skin. "Francesca, why are you here?" 

 Franny felt the smile push her cheeks up. He was so thoughtful, so
chivalrous. Even now, bruised and battered to hell, poor thing, he was
concerned about her comfort. Trying to be the perfect host. 

 "Fraser...Benton." She slid her hand down to the side of his face, dared
herself, accepted the dare, and ran her fingertips down his arm, feeling
the fine-grained muscle. She picked up his hand and held it in hers.
Politely, he let it lie there, unmoving. "You don't have to be so formal
with me. I'm sure we both know why I'm here." 

 Uh-oh, that deer-in-the-headlights look was back. Was he really afraid of
her? No, no, he was probably afraid *for* her. Dear man, he must have
thought she didn't know what she was doing. 

 "Benton. Believe me when I say I've thought about this for a long time.
And I can't think of anything more right, when two people care about each
other." She sought his eyes, stroking his palm with her thumb. His skin
felt so warm, so fine. She couldn't wait to taste it. "We have to stop
worrying about what the rest of the world is going to think of us. We have
to seize the day." 

 Inspired, Franny brought Fraser's hand up to her chest, and placed it
over her heart. She was sure he could feel it beating, knew he was also
feeling the swell of her breast. 

 Fraser seemed to be in some kind of trance. He stared in fascination,
now, at his own hand, looking for all the world as if he didn't understand
what it was doing there. And then he took it, oh so carefully, away. 

 "Francesca, we -- we have to talk." 

 Oh, he was so good. It was impossible, how good he was. Only, she had to
admit it, just now she almost wished he weren't *quite* such a nice guy.
She watched his lips move and wanted to feel them against her skin. 

 "I love to talk to you, Benton." The wolf made a little sighing noise,
and she wondered idly if he'd been fed. 

 "You -- you seem to have got the idea, well. I...I can't do this. That
is, I --" Against all probability, Fraser stood up, backing away a few
paces. Almost immediately, he returned to her, put a hand on her shoulder.
"Please don't think for a moment that I'm not aware, not flattered by the,
by your --" 

 Rejection? He couldn't be...oh, no, he must be protecting her again.
Frustration prickled at her, and suddenly the leather seemed sticky, the
lace scratchy, the stockings binding. 

 "What are you worried about, Fraser? Is this some kind of Mountie thing?"
She was afraid she hadn't kept the irritation out of her voice. 

 "No, the RCMP has no explicit rules regarding fraternization with
civilians. In fact..." 

 "The station, then? Are you worried what the guys will say?" 

 "...not...as such, no. But --" 

 You don't find me attractive. Say it, Francesca. You don't find me
attractive. But no, there's something else going on here. 

 "There's someone else, isn't there?" 

 He was quiet then. Almost reflexively, his arms crossed across his chest.
The room felt very cold. She was losing him. Losing. 

 "...yes." 

 "Who is it? Elaine? I swear to god, I'll claw her eyes out --" 

 "Francesca, please --" 

 "Oh, come on, Benton, you can tell me. No one's gonna get hurt, honest." 

 A muffled sound, a gasp, and Fraser was rubbing his eyes. Fraser was
crying. He was crying? "Benton?" 

 And then he broke down, truly broke down, sobbing like his heart would
break. Her own anger was melted in a wash of tenderness. She flew to him,
took him in her arms. 

 "It's all right. It's all right Fraser. Whatever...whoever it is, I'm
sure it's all right." 

 His shoulders shuddered against her. "No...no, it isn't." Diefenbaker
whined in counterpoint. 

 "Fraser." She hadn't even known men *could* cry like this. "Fraser,
listen to me. *Listen*." She pushed him, gently, away from her, keeping
his hard, trembling shoulders under her hands. "There is always room for
love. Whoever she is, I'm sure she loves you, too. God, Fraser, *everyone*
loves you. Can't you see that?" 

 He seemed to be collecting himself. She dug into her pocket and produced
a lipsticked tissue. 

 He took it with thanks, mopped at his eyes. Didn't blow his nose. She had
the feeling he never had to blow his nose in his whole life. Even now, he
somehow managed to look well-groomed. His eyes weren't even red. 

 "Now, I want you to pull yourself together, go downstairs to the pay
phone, and give her a call right now. Tell her you love her --
 " 

 "I can't..." 

 "Oh yes you can, Fraser. It's not even that hard, you just --" 

 "...would never..." 

 "I mean, after all, look what I..." She stopped. Something wasn't right.
What had he just said? 

 "*He* would never?" Franny was doing the staring this time, and Fraser
didn't even have the decency to blush. Or protest. "You're GAY?" 

 "It's not that simple." 

 "Not that simple? You're in love with a man! You're a fairy!" Franny's
world was turning upside down. How could Benton Fraser be...? But suddenly
it all made sense, his politeness, his protestations, his constant,
infuriating, failure to understand her. 

 "I'm not accustomed to being in love with *anyone*." 

 "This is your first time?" Her mind reeled. Was he a virgin, too? She'd
often wondered about that. 

 "Not exactly." He swallowed. "Francesca. Franny." He reached for her. She
let him. It was entirely different from the way she'd always imagined it.
"I can't talk to you about this. I can't tell anyone. I certainly can't
tell him. And I'm asking, I'm imploring you, not to share what you've
heard tonight with anyone." 

 She forced a smile. This sucked in every possible way, but she wasn't
going to let him down. Maybe she'd never have him, or maybe one day he'd
really, finally, *see* her, but for now she had to be his friend. Anger
burned in her throat. She tried to comfort herself with the realization
that, in some ways, they'd been closer tonight than they would have been
if things had gone the way she'd hoped. 

 "I promise, Fraser. I promise." She held those blue, blue eyes. "Okay?" 

 And he managed a little smile of his own. "Okay." He pulled her coat
closed around her, with great care. His bed retreated in her view as he
steered her out. His door was about to close behind her. Her dearest hopes
were fizzling like burnt-out neon. 

 Fraser rested one hand on the doorframe. "It goes without saying that I
won't share what...what happened earlier..." 

 She smiled in earnest this time. "Of course it does, Fraser." Thank god
she'd be spared that, at least. No one need know of her humiliation; she
could count on him for that. 

 The door was closing behind her. 

 "Oh, and Francesca?" 

 She turned. 

 "Thank you." 

 She turned again, and swallowed. 

 The door closed softly behind her. 

 END OF PART I