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Fraser had always wondered about the bicycle hanging on Ray’s wall, ever since he’d first set foot in his apartment.
It clearly hadn’t been used in years, judging by the layer of dust, the cracked tires and dried-up break pads. It could be there for decoration, Fraser mused, but that wasn’t very practical. Ray’s place wasn’t huge, and one constantly had to take care not to bump into the handlebars sticking out into the room.
Maybe it held some sentimental value. That was not something Fraser could really relate to; he’d never had many worldly possessions to begin with, and what wasn't destroyed when Victoria torched his father's cabin was lost when his apartment building burnt down. Buck Frobisher was the only reason his father's writings had survived—if he hadn't asked Fraser to send him the journals after their encounter on the runaway train, those too would have perished in the flames.
It wasn’t until a month into their romantic relationship, however, that Fraser actually asked Ray about it.
Ray had fallen asleep on the couch—he never did manage to sit through a whole movie—his head resting on Fraser’s shoulder and their legs entwined on the coffee table. Fraser’s wandering gaze landed on the bicycle, and he once again wondered what its story was.
"Hey.”
Ray’s voice startled Fraser out of his reverie. He smiled and ruffled his partner’s hair. “You’re awake.”
Ray stifled a yawn. “And you’re miles away. What’s going on in that big old Mountie brain of yours?”
“Nothing of consequence, Ray.”
“Bull. I’ve been watching you stare into space for five minutes. What gives?”
Fraser sighed and sat up straight, extricating himself from Ray’s sprawling limbs. “I was merely pondering why you keep your bicycle hanging on the wall. You never use it, and it takes up a fair amount of room. Just the other day, I poked my elbow on the handlebars while feeding Turtle.”
Ray didn’t answer right away, and when he finally did, his voice was soft, as if he were speaking from far away. “You know that Stella and I were very young when we got together?”
Fraser raised an eyebrow. This was not the direction he’d expected the conversation to go. “Yes,” he replied, when Ray didn’t continue.
“We were greatness, you know? Even back then. You should have seen the other boys at school. They couldn’t believe a girl like Stella would give a guy like me the time of day.”
“I’m sure you were a fine catch, Ray.”
Ray snorted and bumped his shoulder with Fraser’s. “You would say that, my friend. But seriously, I was a real nerd. I was smaller than every one else, and skinnier, and then there were my glasses.”
“I’m sorry you felt that way.”
Ray shrugged. “It was okay. Stella liked me, and that was good enough for me. She had my back. But sometimes…she was further along than I was, you know, mentally and stuff. She could debate people until the cows came home. That’s what her whole family was like. You couldn’t visit her folks without getting sucked into some big discussion about politics or philosophy or some shit. Not like at our house—we never talked much about anything. My dad, he’s a put-your-head-down-and-don’t-get-noticed kind of guy.”
Fraser nodded but said nothing. It was rare that Ray was this open about his feelings, about his past, and he’d give him the space he needed.
“Anyway, Stella and I, sometimes we’d get into fights. She knew what to say to make me feel crap. I wanted to get back at her, I did, but I couldn’t get the words out. When it got real bad, I’d run out to the garage and grab my bike. Some evenings, I tore across the whole neighborhood. Stella got really worried the first time I split like that, but then she got used to it. She called the bike my escape pod. But it did the trick. Once I got home, I was too worn out to be angry, and Stella was happy to see me home safe. We usually ended up making out on the couch afterwards.”
Ray chuckled and nudged Fraser’s foot. That was an activity they both frequently engaged in after a long day at work, and Fraser was indeed holding out hope their evening would progress in that direction.
“When we got our first apartment,” Ray went on, “I bought myself a new bike. That one, actually.” He nodded at the bicycle hanging on the wall. I told Stella I wanted it to stay fit, but it was more than that. We’d just gotten married, and things were pretty sweet, but I…I had to know that I could get out if I needed to. If I needed to escape.”
“And did you?” Fraser asked.
“Not at first, not for several years. But then…” Ray sighed. “You know how it ended. Things got pretty bad there for a while. I always felt she had the upper hand, no matter what we fought about. There’s a reason she’s very good at her job. So I got the hell out of Dodge.”
“Did it help, the way it did when you were younger?”
“Yeah, it did.” Ray smiled fondly, “Except now we ended up having spectacular make-up sex instead of canoodling on the couch.” Ray winced. “Sorry. You probably don’t want to hear about that part.”
Fraser waved him off. “Don’t worry. The intimacy you shared with your wife has no bearing on our relationship.”
Ray snorted. “I wish I could keep cool like that. Anytime I think about somebody else running their hands over your skin…” He shuddered. “Let’s not talk about that.”
“Understood.” Fraser pulled Ray closer and gently massaged the nape of his neck. They sat together in silence, interrupted only by Ray’s occasional happy sighs.
“Ben,” Ray finally said. “You’re thinking too loud.”
“That’s quite impossible, Ray.”
“You know what I mean.” Ray pulled back until he could look Fraser straight in the eye. “You’re want to know why I still have the bike now that my marriage is history. You’re wondering if I still need to get out of here, sometimes, now that we’re together.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself—”
Ray cut him off. “No, but I do. I mean, I want to. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time, you know that, right?”
Fraser nodded.
“And you know this has nothing to do with you. It’s not personal. It’s just…sometimes I get, like, claustrophobic. In my brain.”
“I understand.”
Ray ran his fingers through his hair. “No, I don’t think you do. You don’t know what it’s like. You’ve never run away from anything in your life.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Fraser said with a frown. “I have in fact run away from home on at least three occasions.”
“For real?”
“Of course, Ray. The first time was when I was six years old. It was Buck Frobisher who found me. I remember how safe I felt when he gathered me in his arms, though I don’t actually recall why I…”
His words trailed off, his throat suddenly tight. His whole life, he’d thought back to that moment with great fondness, even if the exact circumstances were shrouded in mystery. Now that he’d met Muldoon, however, now that he knew the truth about his mother’s murder, the puzzle pieces suddenly fell into place. He realized why he must have run away, why Buck had been there to search for him, and why nobody had ever talked about that night.
“Good Lord,” Fraser said, his voice hoarse.
“You okay there? Ben? What’s wrong?”
Fraser ran his right hand over his face. “Nothing, Ray.” That was a lie, of course, and he knew Ray was too smart a man not to see right through it. “Nothing you can fix,” he amended with a sad smile.
Ray nodded. “And the other times?” he asked, and Fraser could kiss him for not dwelling on the matter.
“I was twelve and ran away from my grandparents’ house to go caribou hunting. The other time involved a goldmine, a boomerang, and a tank full of gasoline. It’s all ancient history, though.”
“So that’s, what, three times in three decades? That’s like once every ten years. Not like me.” Ray hung his head. “You must think I’m pathetic.”
Fraser reached out to rub Ray’s back. “I think nothing of the sort. On the contrary—I admire your resourcefulness. You found an effective release for your pent up emotions.”
“So you don’t think I’m silly for hanging onto the bike?” Ray mumbled at the floor.
“Of course not. Why should I begrudge you your safety net if it gives you comfort? You forget that I know you, Ray. Why do you think I waited until the last day of the quest to finally kiss you?”
Ray turned around and faced Fraser. “I don’t know. Why did you? I thought you were just too chicken to make a move.” He tilted his head. “That, or you had a real mean streak and enjoyed seeing your buddy with the worst case of blue balls in history—and no, not from the cold.”
Fraser snorted. “No, that was not the reason. Though I admit, fear did factor into it.”
“Then I don’t know…” A thoughtful expressed flitted across Ray’s face, and Fraser could see the moment he put two and two together. “You didn’t want to put me on the spot. You didn’t want to make a move when I had no way to leave if things didn’t work out. When I had no means of escape.”
“Precisely.”
Before Fraser could continue, Ray jumped up and clambered onto his lap, cupping his cheeks with both hands. “I fucking love you, you know that?” he said and kissed him hard.
Several minutes later, when they drew apart, Fraser glanced over at the bicycle once more. “We could fix it up, one of these days.”
“Huh?” Ray looked completely disheveled. “Fix what?”
Fraser nodded at the wall. “Your bicycle. We could make it road-worthy. And then maybe I could get one too. We could go on a ride together,” he added, trying not to sound too hopeful.
He needn’t have worried. Ray smiled, and his eyes twinkled.
“I would like that very much,” he said.