prompt #8: first meeting
Title: Payment in Kind
Prompt: First Meeting
Fandom: due South
Author: Primrose
Characters: Fraser, Diefenbaker
Rating: G
Length: 960 words
Date: 4/2/2007
Disclaimer: due South belongs to Alliance and the Pauls, Fraser and Diefenbaker like to think they belong to no one. Riiight.
I started this well before midnight, so I say it counts for April 2. If it had stayed the drabble it was supposed to be, there'd be no dispute.
Again, unbeta'ed, as a lot of them will probably be.
May 16, 1991
212 miles Northwest of Whitehorse
Yukon Territory, Canada
Being knocked out three times in the span of a few hours is disconcerting, to put it mildly. The throbbing ache in his head as he comes to for the third time is less than conducive to logical deduction, to say the least, so it's not surprising that Fraser doesn't recognize the sudden weight on his back at first. The force of it startles him into groggy awareness, enough that he finally recognizes the worried young wolf who is currently licking his face.
He knows he should get up and attempt to climb out of the mine shaft, but every time he moves his pain and nausea increases. The pup whines again and nudges him under the chin.
"All right, all right, I'm getting up," he mutters. He tries to push himself up but his body fights him and he drops back down to the floor of the shaft. The pup yips and nudges him again.
Focusing all his strength into his arms, Fraser finally manages to sit up. The pup clambers into his lap and licks his face before looking up at him and whining.
"No, really, it isn't your fault. And no thanks are necessary. You saved my life in return, after all. I'm very grateful, truly." The pup seems to be satisfied with the answer, and with a perfunctory lick to Fraser's face climbs off his lap.
Groaning, Fraser pulls himself upright with the narrow board the pup pushed down to him (which also knocked him out cold, but that's neither here nor there and it really wasn't the wolf's fault). He uses the board to clear more snow away from the top of the shaft. With more light he notices that the makeshift trap is deeper than he had first thought, sealed up where it had once led to a tunnel. Attached to the far wall is a section of rope ladder. It looks sturdy enough to hold him, at least long enough to climb out of the shaft. He looks down at the pup, who hasn't left his side since he woke.
"I think this ladder is sufficient to support both of our weights. That is, if you can hold still enough for me to carry you."
The pup looks at him warily.
"Well, I'm certainly not throwing you again. It was an error in judgement to do so in the first place. I neglected to take into consideration the very real risk of you falling back down or hitting a rock upon landing." Such a difficult animal, he thinks. Not unlike himself, if he wants to analyze it (and given the dire situation, he most certainly does not).
The pup looks from Fraser to the ladder and back again, making a small noise of agreement.
"Good, then. Shall we?" At the answering bark Fraser picks him up and together they carefully make their way up the ladder to safety.
Fraser takes the pup home and lets him rest for a few days, nursing both of their wounds and making sure the young wolf gets the proper nutrition. It's difficult to do what's necessary to duplicate the diet of an Arctic Wolf without some interesting tales coming out of it. Fraser writes them down so he won't forget any of the details. They sit by Fraser's old woodstove in the evenings, the pup's head in Fraser's lap, telling each other stories. Of course, the wolf is young and relatively inexperienced, so Fraser ends up doing most of the talking.
When the pup is well enough to be on his own again, Fraser sets him by the door and opens it, chastising himself for the sudden wave of sadness that hits him. It's not like this little one is a pet, for goodness sake.
"Go on, then," he tells the pup. "You're well, now, it's time you were back with your own people."
The pup looks up at Fraser, his expression unreadable.
Fraser crouches and meets the pup's eyes. "Don't be so stubborn. You're a wild animal, I can't keep you as a pet."
Wild animal or no, the wolf doesn't budge, he just barks indignantly.
"Wait. You mean to tell me you don't want to leave? You're actually choosing to stay here, of your own free will?"
Another indignant bark, this time with a defiant look added for good measure.
"Well, I suppose if it's what you want, then I can't stop you. If you're old enough to be on your own, you're certainly capable of making your own decisions. Welcome to my--our home, Wolf. I don't know what to call you yet, but I suppose between the two of us we'll come up with something." Fraser doesn't know if wolves have names, and even if they do, he doubts they'd tell humans.
The young wolf seals the agreement with a few licks to Fraser's face, then leaps over to the couch and curls up on the end closest to the woodstove, which happens to be right where Fraser's blanket lies, neatly folded.
Fraser sighs in frustration and glares at him, but there's a smile in his eyes.
"I suppose the old saying is true: you let a wolf save your life, they make you pay and pay and pay."
Shaking his head, the smile now evident on his face, he shuts the door and sits on the couch next to his new housemate.
"Did I ever tell you about the time my father saved my mother's life? It was before I was born, so obviously it's not a firsthand accounting, but my grandmother, being a librarian (and somewhat of an archivist), was an excellent historian. You see, my mother had been kidnapped by a madman and was being held hostage..."
(my prompt table)
Prompt: First Meeting
Fandom: due South
Author: Primrose
Characters: Fraser, Diefenbaker
Rating: G
Length: 960 words
Date: 4/2/2007
Disclaimer: due South belongs to Alliance and the Pauls, Fraser and Diefenbaker like to think they belong to no one. Riiight.
I started this well before midnight, so I say it counts for April 2. If it had stayed the drabble it was supposed to be, there'd be no dispute.
Again, unbeta'ed, as a lot of them will probably be.
May 16, 1991
212 miles Northwest of Whitehorse
Yukon Territory, Canada
Being knocked out three times in the span of a few hours is disconcerting, to put it mildly. The throbbing ache in his head as he comes to for the third time is less than conducive to logical deduction, to say the least, so it's not surprising that Fraser doesn't recognize the sudden weight on his back at first. The force of it startles him into groggy awareness, enough that he finally recognizes the worried young wolf who is currently licking his face.
He knows he should get up and attempt to climb out of the mine shaft, but every time he moves his pain and nausea increases. The pup whines again and nudges him under the chin.
"All right, all right, I'm getting up," he mutters. He tries to push himself up but his body fights him and he drops back down to the floor of the shaft. The pup yips and nudges him again.
Focusing all his strength into his arms, Fraser finally manages to sit up. The pup clambers into his lap and licks his face before looking up at him and whining.
"No, really, it isn't your fault. And no thanks are necessary. You saved my life in return, after all. I'm very grateful, truly." The pup seems to be satisfied with the answer, and with a perfunctory lick to Fraser's face climbs off his lap.
Groaning, Fraser pulls himself upright with the narrow board the pup pushed down to him (which also knocked him out cold, but that's neither here nor there and it really wasn't the wolf's fault). He uses the board to clear more snow away from the top of the shaft. With more light he notices that the makeshift trap is deeper than he had first thought, sealed up where it had once led to a tunnel. Attached to the far wall is a section of rope ladder. It looks sturdy enough to hold him, at least long enough to climb out of the shaft. He looks down at the pup, who hasn't left his side since he woke.
"I think this ladder is sufficient to support both of our weights. That is, if you can hold still enough for me to carry you."
The pup looks at him warily.
"Well, I'm certainly not throwing you again. It was an error in judgement to do so in the first place. I neglected to take into consideration the very real risk of you falling back down or hitting a rock upon landing." Such a difficult animal, he thinks. Not unlike himself, if he wants to analyze it (and given the dire situation, he most certainly does not).
The pup looks from Fraser to the ladder and back again, making a small noise of agreement.
"Good, then. Shall we?" At the answering bark Fraser picks him up and together they carefully make their way up the ladder to safety.
Fraser takes the pup home and lets him rest for a few days, nursing both of their wounds and making sure the young wolf gets the proper nutrition. It's difficult to do what's necessary to duplicate the diet of an Arctic Wolf without some interesting tales coming out of it. Fraser writes them down so he won't forget any of the details. They sit by Fraser's old woodstove in the evenings, the pup's head in Fraser's lap, telling each other stories. Of course, the wolf is young and relatively inexperienced, so Fraser ends up doing most of the talking.
When the pup is well enough to be on his own again, Fraser sets him by the door and opens it, chastising himself for the sudden wave of sadness that hits him. It's not like this little one is a pet, for goodness sake.
"Go on, then," he tells the pup. "You're well, now, it's time you were back with your own people."
The pup looks up at Fraser, his expression unreadable.
Fraser crouches and meets the pup's eyes. "Don't be so stubborn. You're a wild animal, I can't keep you as a pet."
Wild animal or no, the wolf doesn't budge, he just barks indignantly.
"Wait. You mean to tell me you don't want to leave? You're actually choosing to stay here, of your own free will?"
Another indignant bark, this time with a defiant look added for good measure.
"Well, I suppose if it's what you want, then I can't stop you. If you're old enough to be on your own, you're certainly capable of making your own decisions. Welcome to my--our home, Wolf. I don't know what to call you yet, but I suppose between the two of us we'll come up with something." Fraser doesn't know if wolves have names, and even if they do, he doubts they'd tell humans.
The young wolf seals the agreement with a few licks to Fraser's face, then leaps over to the couch and curls up on the end closest to the woodstove, which happens to be right where Fraser's blanket lies, neatly folded.
Fraser sighs in frustration and glares at him, but there's a smile in his eyes.
"I suppose the old saying is true: you let a wolf save your life, they make you pay and pay and pay."
Shaking his head, the smile now evident on his face, he shuts the door and sits on the couch next to his new housemate.
"Did I ever tell you about the time my father saved my mother's life? It was before I was born, so obviously it's not a firsthand accounting, but my grandmother, being a librarian (and somewhat of an archivist), was an excellent historian. You see, my mother had been kidnapped by a madman and was being held hostage..."
(my prompt table)