Fandom: due South
Word Count: 667 words.
Notes: I wrote this a couple of months ago. I can't remember why I refrained from posting it then, so I am posting it now. It's a short Fraser gen reflection piece with a little bit of Bob.
Benton awoke later than usual. It was his custom to be up just before the sun arose. He would feed Diefenbaker a portion of his diet more nutritious than donuts and pretzels and take an early morning stroll. This was not always contingent upon an early night’s rest, although he generally preferred it so. In recent times he had not been sleeping as well as he would have wished and often found the sun had long been in the sky by the time he got out of bed. Diefenbaker did not seem to mind. At this very moment he was snoring both loudly and with a specific noise which Benton assumed indicated happily.
Benton started to undress out of his night clothes and dress into his uniform. The action brought to his mind his thoughts of the evening before. He had lain awake, staring at the ceiling, musing, wondering, feeling that something was not quite right.
He always thought… well, it doesn’t really matter what he always thought, the important thing was that there had been a time where he had thought he knew himself. There was no significance in whether anyone else knew him, he knew why he did the things he did, and that was good enough for him. This wasn’t to say that he didn’t occasionally have moments where he didn’t know what to do. He had come up against more than one situation where he was absolutely clueless as to action. Motivation, however, now that was constantly clear.
Lately he had been beginning to wonder if he had ever known himself at all. Had this knowledge all just been a veiled attempt at sleight of mind? An explanation of motivation in one way to completely obfuscate the true reason, the real feelings, the undeniable truth? He had been starting to think this might be so. If this was the case, just what was he going to do about it? He didn’t know. He couldn’t guess. He just… he was confused, not by others, not by some external force, but by himself.
“You spend too much time questioning yourself,” Bob said, stepping out of the wardrobe as if it were the most natural thing to do in the world.
“Did I ask for your opinion?”
“No, son, but I’ve given it all the same.”
“Thank you kindly.” Benton sighed as he brushed a hand over his face.
“There’s really no need, you know.”
Benton feigned ignorance of his father’s ghostly presence and continued to dress for his duties. He straightened his lanyard before tilting his head quickly to the side to ease tension. Bob did not proffer any more words of wisdom but merely stood and waited. Benton finished dressing and combed his hair into a neat and orderly manner. He finally turned around and looked at Bob impatiently.
“What do you want?”
“What do you want?”
“I asked you first.”
“I want you to be happy. It’s all a father ever wants for his son.”
There was a clicking sound to be heard, the origins of which quite likely to be either Benton’s mouth or the front door and Benton walked out of the room. He hastily considered his father’s words.
He couldn’t think of a time when he ever had been happy. He wasn’t entirely sure he even knew what ‘happiness’ meant. This was not to say that he was unhappy, far from it, but to be able to unequivocally state that he was happy seemed a preposterous idea. He did not believe it wise to be lured into a false sense of happiness if that meant that you did not continue to strive to make things better. If you settled for things as they were, instead of seeing a possible difference to be made. You had to keep on fighting for what was right, and if you were happy, why would you bother? Yes, even with his current crisis of self he was quite sure he thought his father’s words ludicrous.