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people for the conservation of limited amounts of indignation


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due south: the affair of the moose (snippet)
fraser, due south
seperis
synecdochic and winterlive == not my drug free zone. Especially after midnight.

Current Theories on the Origin of Fraser:

1.) He's actually an Ascendant, who was one of those medieval monks who did nothing but meditate and accidentally Ascended. He got irritated with the Ancients lack of intervention and came back. He currently makes the other Ancients nervous when he goes on about justice and they just know if he comes back, he will be organizing the Ancinet Mountie Brigade to bring justice to the universe. And they are afraid. (blame Syne on this one. Okay, and me too, but it makes sense.)

2.) He's a Timelord who has totally forgotten his timelordness. This explains the fact reality bends around him. I'm sorry, if you have a better theory, I want to hear it. (This was me and winterlive--we. Well. It made sense. And it was after midnight.)

3.) I read the Sentinel one by jacquez -- wow, so much sense making.

You know, I keep thinking every time I must have imagined how insane some of the eps were. But no, they're not. I go back and watch and it actually did happen like that. I love this show more than chocolate. And I still want to write the one where he and John are insanely and creepily polite to each other while pollen-hit and have no sex at all but increasingly esoteric conversations that sound a lot like some kind of very very metaphysical foreplay.

Child still has a strong Vecchio crush. I think we're edging into IRL flamewars.

In lieu of that, a random snippet. To warn you, I'm still getting the voices down, so--yeah. Originally posted as comment-fic for astolat, a bit revised, still trying to get the voices right.



It takes Fraser exactly ten seconds to realize exactly why someone had taped a circle around Ray's desk at exactly the length of Ray's arm plus the length of one crutch. Looking down at the quivering rubber tip two inches from his chest, he follows it to glazed eyes, bared teeth, and, in peripheral vision, a bottle of percocet. "I'm *fine*."

Ray and painkillers have never been compatible. Fraser nods in polite disbelief. "I see that."

Glaring, Ray drops the crutch, turning back to his desk and burying his head in a stack of files.

Fraser's eyes flicker down to the bare foot currently wrapped in new white bandages and elevated on a chair. A brief glance around the room reveals furious industry and absolutely no one looking their direction. Just in case, Fraser suspects, Ray kills him and they're called in as witnesses.

He's been here too long, Fraser thinks with a mental sigh. He's becoming cynical. "Ray--"

"Go away." One hand gropes vaguely over the desk. If the narration Detective Huey had subjected him to was accurate, soon after the realization that Ray did not react positively to painkillers, Francesca had cleared the desk, leading to attempted assault by inanimate object, leading to tape to indicate minimum safe distance. Detective Huey had then limped away (apparently, he had not been as quick as Francesca), indicating custody of Ray Vecchio (the newer) was now in Fraser's hands. Which had been the moment Ray had attempted assault by crutch for the second time.

Partners, Fraser reminds himself. "Ray--"

"This is your fault," Ray mutters into the stack of folders, wrapping his arms around it like a pillow. "This shit did *not* happen before you. It was--" A few folders slide away and onto the floor, spilling reports around Fraser's feet. "Not *weird*. Jesus Christ, my head hurts."

"I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation," Fraser says evenly, ignoring the choked sound from across the room. Fraser braces for stopping Ray from trying to hop his way toward homicide, but no one says a thing. "Head injuries, especially concussions--"

"Shut. *Up*."

"--can cause hallucinations, and as you know, retrograde amnesia," Fraser continues doggedly, raising his voice enough to drown out the flurry of officers who seemed to have something caught in their throats, "so it's probable, even *likely*, that the entire experience can be chalked up to--"

"You were right!"

Ray's head snaps up. "Frannie. You didn't. I have a *concussion*. I didn't know what I was *saying*--"

Francesca slides a paper across the desk. "They just discovered the body of one of the volunteers--well, pieces anyway," she adds as Ray shrinks into his chair. "But the weird part is, you wont' believe this--"

"You're right. I don't."

"They found a *animal* by her body!" Leaning against the desk, Francesca shakes her head in wonder. "Guess what animal."

Ray leans his head back and covers his face. "This is because of the acid, ain't it?" he mumbles into his hands. "One trip, add twenty years, and it all goes downhill. Starts with hallucinations, ends with--"

This would be a good time to intervene. "Ray, I don't think--"

"Alzheimer's," Ray says loudly, drowning him out. "Roofies. The entire job, causing severe cog-conit-"

"Cognitive," Fraser say before he can stop himself.

Ray points at him without looking up. "That. Crazy. I've gone crazy."

"Not news, Vecchio," Welsh says from behind them. Fraser turns to look at the lieutenant with a growing sense of disaster. "But good to hear confirmation. Frannie?"

Ray and Francesca both go for the paper, but Francesca's quicker. Cradling his hand against his chest, Ray watches with wide-eyed horror as she flourishes it. "Murder at the zoo," she says triumphantly. Welsh doesn't take the paper; Fraser isn't quite sure he actually sees it. "They're bringing in the bodies."

"Bodies," Welsh says hollowly. Fraser wonders if he's feeling ill. "

Francesca bounces. "And one of them was--"

A crutch sails by them and lands with a clatter on the floor. Fraser supposes it's lucky that Ray's glasses are still in his car.

"A dead moose."

There's no way to stop it now. "So," Huey says from the safety of his desk halfway across the room, "how often do you get tips from dead animals, Vecchio?" and it's all downhill from there.

*****

Twenty minutes, three conversations, and another percocet later (after Ray tried to lunge, tangled his sprained ankle in the chair, and nearly knocked himself out on the desk), this is what Fraser learns:

At six this evening, during a routine pick-up, Detective Ray Vecchio vanished ("Into thin air!" Detective Dewey said, sounding distressingly awed. "I *heard a noise in the alley*," Ray hissed back. "A moose call?" Huey asked.), only to be discovered fifteen minutes later in a dumpster ("Beside the dumpster, asshole," Ray said, listing pathetically onto the arm of the couch. "Not when I write my report," Huey answered.), with a sprained ankle, several bruised ribs ("They did look like hoof prints," Huey admitted. "Or *boots*," Ray said viciously, but at least by that point, he'd stopped trying to climb over Fraser to get to him.), and a minor concussion. During the trip to the hospital ("Concussion!" Ray shouted before curling into a bitter, unhappy ball and turning a glare on Francesca), Ray had apparently called Francesca and told her that there'd been a murder at the zoo and to send all units. When she asked him how he knew, he told her--

"I did not *say moose*."

"I heard moose," Francesca says stubbornly. "You said--"

"I *did not say*--"

"That a moose told you where to find her," Francesca finishes with relish, leaning against Welsh's desk. "Also, the body is a woman, and she died near a moose." She stops short, frowning. "You think the moose did it?"

"I'm going to kill you," Ray says.

Perhaps, Fraser thinks, it's time to take Ray home.

*****


HAAAAAA!
I love Due South. I love Ray K. I love that you're writing this.

*Glows* Thank you so much!

I hate the first time I post for a new fandom. I talk myself into nausea sometimes. Gah.

Eeeee! Due South fic! And a moose! Hooray!

I love this.

I also hope you follow through on the SGA/Due South thing, and write it. I don't write either fandom but did put a snippet together for a badfic challenge that involved Ray and a Stargate and experimental hair, and ever since then I've been looking for crossovers and have found NONE. That's terribly sad! So you should write it, absolutely and yes. *grin*

Wait, did you write the one where Ray had the Ancient gene? Okay, wehther or not you did, link me! Please?

And thanks!

Moose! XD *dies of love*

I COULDN'T HELP IT. IT WAS JUST THERE. MOOSE.

*thoughtful* I need to go check for ds icons now. I am getting icon envy of everyone who has one.

Oh, yes. I adore this! I love the whole MOOSE WTF?!? thing. Plus, your Ray K is fantastic, the tone is right up my alley, and this:

"This shit did *not* happen before you. It was--" A few folders slide away and onto the floor, spilling reports around Fraser's feet. "Not *weird*. Jesus Christ, my head hurts."

is my new favorite sentence ever. *GLEE*

*hugs you* Thank you!

I'm still editing the only one I finished. This one seemed safe to practice with and see how close I am to getting it clear. You would *not* think two voices so distinctive would be so *hard*.

(Deleted comment)
Thank you! *GLEE* I AM OVERCOMING MY TERROR OF POSTING. But slowly.

MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSE.

It is an awesome moose. A moose of justice, even.

Ray getting tips from a dead moose*snickers* also, have you considered that Fraser is maybe a cross-product of an Ascendant and a Time Lord??that would explain a helluva lot,methinks*ponders on this*
and for the love of God, please write Fraser, John and how they managed not to have sex while being under the influence of sex pollen...the hilarity potential is infinite....*g*

Ooh. An Ancient/Timelord--that's like the double whammy of universal terror.

I'm trying! I just--keep laughing too hard to stop.

Ray Vecchio (the newer)

don't ask me why, but this? my favorite part.

My theory is the Fraser is a powerful, untrained psi. He warps reality around him, both physical reality and human reality. But he's *untrained*, yes, and doing it unconciously.

Similarly, Dief is a psi. He got drawn to Fraser because, well, Fraser's a psi. This explains why Dief is, in fact, deaf, but only when he wants to be.

(This ties into my theory that Det. Goren of L&O: CI is a very powerful untrained, largely latent and entirely unconscious psi who whammies people into confessing. I mean, okay, he's charismatic and very insightful but nothing explains why he can get confessions the way he does when the suspect's lawyer is in the room, unless he's whammying the lawyer too. *g*)

I read your theory! (AND OMG I DIDN'T FRIEND YOU AND I MEANT TO RIGHT AFTER CON.TXT SORRY!) I laughed. A *lot*. What ep are you on now?

Welcome to the insanity!!!! \o/ \o/ \o/ \o/ \o/

Moose tips--excellent way to start. *admires*

I just--felt moved by moose. I blame Northern Exposure credits.

Thank you!

Oh, Ray. Yes, once your life made sense. I kind of want a story where pre-Fraser Ray was calm and rational, it's just the freakiness of life with Fraser that makes him angry all the time.

It's a good thing Fraser is so pretty. And I'd have to think being able to get tips from dead animals could only be of serious aid in police wor

It would be amusing to see Fraser in the SGA universe. I can't help but think Rodney would be frustrated by everyone looking at Fraser and asking Rodney why he can't be that brand of Canadian.

Oh man, Rodney and Fraser would be--I don't even know what. Fraser's polite sarcasm would drive him *nuts*.

*GLEE*

Thank you!

That is wake the neighbours laughing fic right there. Looking forward to more.

Oh, and self pimp for icons here

*hugs you* Thank you!

Also requested two icons, because FINALLY I CAN EXPRESS MY LOVE VIA ICON. Which is so livejournal it makes me giggle.

bwahahahahahaha! moose! ::rolls on the floor in DS-induced paroxysms of glee::

This is totally *awesome*!
*glee*
Nice!

*giggle* *giggles more* *giggles a lot*