luzula | due South fic: The Difficulties of Inter-Species Communication

Title: The Difficulties of Inter-Species Communication
Characters: Bob, Dief, Fraser, Kowalski, with implied F/K.
Rating: PG
Length: 1450 words
Summary: When Fraser and Ray are in trouble, Bob fetches help.
Notes: For

malnpudl in the due South/C6D ficlet exchange, who asked for a Bob and Dief interaction of some sort. Thanks to

akamine_chan for the lightning-fast beta, and thanks to

sage for organizing the exchange!

Benton mouthed something at Bob from his tied-up position. Literally tied up, with the Yank trussed up beside him with the same pieces of rope. Maybe the crooks hadn't had much rope.

"What's that, son? I can't read lips." Benton stared at him as if he could make Bob could read his mind with the force of his stubbornness.

"And you shouldn't have gotten caught in that ambush," Bob continued to his captive audience. "I told you, you ought to carry a gun." Benton's eyebrows drew together in a glare. Well, it wasn't as if the Yank didn't make that particular argument as often as Bob could wish.

Said Yank tugged at the ropes. "Hey, Fraser, what are you staring at? You got an idea for how we can get out of here? Because I'm all out of ideas."

The two of them were lying half on top of each other on a warehouse floor. The walls were thick and the area almost abandoned, and the crooks obviously hadn't been worried about discovery, because they hadn't gagged their captives--sloppy work. They were tied up well, though.

"I might," Benton told his partner, "have an idea. But it involves somewhat, er, unusual means."

"Yeah? What kind of unusual means?" The Yank grunted and tried to roll over, and Bob watched them try to sort their limbs out, without much success.

"The kind that will make you doubt my sanity," Benton replied.

"What are you planning now, son?"

"Like I don't already doubt your sanity. And I'll take anything at this point--this floor is cold. Spit it out."

Benton frowned, sidetracked. "Are you cold? You can lie on top if you want."

Bob studiously looked away as they rearranged themselves again, noting that his son was remarkably comfortable with having another man on top of him. This wasn't really news to Bob--he'd almost given up on grandchildren--but he didn't have to watch them roll around like that.

Of course, Buck and he had been in many similar scrapes, and it didn't necessarily mean anything.

"So what's your plan?" the Yank--or Kowalski--said, his voice muffled by Benton's shoulder. Bob supposed he could call the man by his name. He was Benton's partner, after all.

"It involves Dief. If he knew our location, he could get help for us."

"Uh-huh. If he knew it."

"Yes, well." Benton sighed. "Can you talk to Dief?" he asked Bob.

"Me?" said Kowalski, as Bob was saying, "Haven't really tried. He's your dog."

"Wolf," Benton said. "Or half-wolf, rather."

"What?" Kowalski said.

"Wolf or dog, I'm not sure he'll even see me."

"It's worth a try. Did you see which way our captors drove to get here?"

"What is worth a try? If this is what you meant when you said I was gonna doubt your sanity, you were right. You're talking into thin air." The Yank squirmed, jabbing his elbow down as he tried to reposition their arms.

"Ow! Ray, I'll explain later. Dad, can you find the way?"

"Dad?"

"Son, I can track--"

"--a ghost across sheer ice, I know."

"Well, I wouldn't go quite that far," Bob said modestly. "But I always know what direction you're in. Must be some sort of talent of the afterlife. I'll give it a try, then."

"Just don't call him a dog, or he'll never listen to you. Oh, and remember that he's deaf--you have to enunciate clearly."

Bob tipped his hat at the pair of them, and left Benton to explain the whole mess to the Yank. They needed to work on their communication anyway.

***

Finding Diefenbaker wasn't as hard as Bob had feared. He could never have managed with a random stranger, but the dog (half-wolf, all right) was tied to Benton somehow, and that seemed to make all the difference.

The mutt was trotting down a street, apparently in search of something. He put his nose to the ground, then went on a few feet, stopping to sniff the air.

"Hello, there." Bob planted himself in front of him and waved.

Diefenbaker stopped short. That's one problem solved, then--at least he could see Bob.

"You looking for Benton?"

Diefenbaker barked. No telling what that meant, but he did seem to be paying attention.

"Right, well. I know Benton keeps talking with you. Bit daft, if you ask me--I never expected my sled dogs to talk back, or not in words, anyway. But seeing as he talks with me, too, and I know I'm not the product of his imagination, maybe your conversations aren't, either. Are you following this at all?"

The dog barked again.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

Another bark. Maybe he was imagining this, but he thought the mutt looked annoyed.

"Right, let's say one bark for yes, two for no."

One bark.

"Could still be coincidence, but..."

Diefenbaker growled, and Bob took a step back despite himself. "All right, all right, I get it."

"Now, you're looking for Benton, right?"

One bark.

"I know where he is. He needs your help; so does the Yank. I'm sure you'll get plenty of good things to eat as a reward."

Diefenbaker laid his ears back. Bob thought he looked disgusted.

"All right, wrong tack." Bob held out his hands to placate him, and Diefenbaker yipped impatiently.

"Let's go, then. He's this way." Bob turned and headed for the warehouse, where he could feel Benton's presence tugging at him like magnetic north. Diefenbaker ran ahead, then sat down to wait.

Bob glared. "I'm not young anymore." But he quickened his steps nevertheless.

He had to admit that Benton had had more luck with Diefenbaker than Bob had expected. The first time Bob had seen him, he'd been a half-starved pup with his ribs showing, and Bob had told Benton he'd never amount to much, and that it would be better to kill him out of mercy. Besides, wolves were known to be hard to tame, and you never knew when he might turn and bite the hand that fed him.

The advice was kindly meant--better to do away with the pup now than have to do it when you'd grown fond of it--but Benton's face had settled into that stubborn, earnest expression Bob had never known what to do with. Well, he wasn't a boy any longer, and a man had to make his own mistakes.

But against the odds, the pup had grown into a fine, healthy dog. He was spoiled, of course, but he was a loyal creature.

Diefenbaker glanced back from the street crossing ahead.

"Left," Bob told him.

It wasn't as far to walk as he'd feared, and when they'd found the warehouse, Diefenbaker found a broken window to jump through. He was sniffing around the knots when Bob materialized next to Benton and the Yank.

"Hey, Dief, I'm ticklish! Stop that!" Kowalski squirmed around to get away from the cold nose poking under his shirt.

"Ray, please! He's only trying to help."

"It worked, son."

"Yes, I can see that. There doesn't seem to be any give in the rope, though. Dief, can you fetch a human for us?"

"Preferably a cop," the Yank said, "but I'll take anyone who's not actually a criminal."

Diefenbaker whined, then trotted off to jump out the window again. It took half an hour or so, but then he came back with two men who were, if not the police, then at least honest citizens.

"Hey, what happened to you two?" one of the men asked, staring down.

"We were witnesses to a crime," Benton said, "and the perpetrators wanted us out of the way. Doubtless they're long gone by now."

"Uh, do you think you could untie us?" Kowalski asked.

"Sure." One of the men knelt down and started to work on the knots. "You sure are tied up in one big package."

"Ah, well. I suppose the knots don't actually require us to lie one on top of the other. But this is quite a cold floor, and I have more subcutaneous fat than Ray does. The dangers of hypothermia are..."

Bob tuned him out. It was getting embarrassing, and he thought he could see the Yank blushing.

"Never explain yourself too much," he told Diefenbaker. "It doesn't pay. I remember the thief I caught in Alert once. Wouldn't have suspected him, except that he explained to me in great detail about the very legal way he'd got hold of all those beaver pelts in the trunk of his car."

But the mutt ignored him. Bob sighed. No matter what Benton thought, that dog couldn't hold up his end of a conversation.