From: <Viridian5@aol.com> To: <MRKS@onelist.com>Subject: [MRKS] FIC: "The Thrill of the Chase" (1/1)Date: Wednesday, January 12, 2000 11:48 PM
From: Viridian5@aol.com
"The Thrill of the Chase" By Viridian5 1/12/00
RATING: PG; Fraser/Kowalski. If m/m interaction bothers you,walk on by.
SPOILERS: not really.
SUMMARY: Ray tries to cheer Fraser up.
ARCHIVING/DISTRIBUTION: Serge and Hexwood. If some kind personfeels that this story is appropriate for DIEF and/or DSX andwouldn't mind posting it, that would be great as well. Anywhereelse too, as long as you ask me first.
FEEDBACK: can be sent to Viridian5@aol.com
DISCLAIMERS: All things _Due South_ belong to Alliance nomatter how much I want Ray K to belong to me. No infringementintended. Suing me would be a waste of time. Besides, I'd justkick you in the head.
NOTES: It's not really a spoiler, but I wanted to say thatMurray the Homicidal Janitor was inspired by the janitor whosemop Ray had to keep jumping over in "Odds."
========================= "The Thrill of the Chase"By Viridian5 =========================
Run, run, run / Fast as you can / You can't catch me / I'm thegingerbread man... Actually, I'm one stringy detective clutchinga stolen Stetson fleeing from one big, red, pissed off Mountie,but the idea's the same. At least he wasn't brooding anymore.
"Ray!"
"I can't let ya profane the sacred Stetson with yourdepressing broodiness!" I yell back as I slowed a little toturn a corner. No sense in falling on my ass now. "I'mtemporarily confiscating it due to behavior unbecoming to aMountie!"
"I will reclaim that hat if I have to wrest it from yourcooling corpse to do so!"
Real bad mood. "And *that* was Mountie-like?"
Precinct's just about empty. Not a creature really stirringbut us two. Some weird moon shift or something had ended allcriminal activity tonight, leaving me bored off my rocker. Notlike I want anyone to go out killing and stealing just to keep meoccupied, but I am so bored...
20 minutes left on my shift. I could catch up on my paperwork.
Nah.
Fraser was being a real gloomy Gus, so I saw a "twobird" situation. Thus, the great chase.
I leapt over a moving mop handle and glared at Murray theHomicidal Janitor. Guy's always trying to trip me up, and I neverdid nothing to him. He just keeps mopping all blank-faced likenothing's nothing. Dief's playing both sides by racing along withme, barking happily, then sometimes trying to trip me up.
"Pick a side and stay on it, Dief!" I said, and heresponds with a canine smirk.
I turn another corner, and Fraser is *there* with his armsoutstretched to get me, a Mountie smirk on *his* face. It takesme precious time to register the impossibility of it before I tryto back- pedal. Bad move. The floor's too slick, and my hip hitsit hard, but I'm still moving forward. I slide right throughFraser's parted legs like something out of a cartoon and whoop invictory. Wish I could see the look on his face.
Except. Except I'm not stopping, and here comes the--
Aw, shit.
I blank out during my impact and come to lying on my back, myass flush with the wall and legs twisted above me. Damned goodthing nobody's here to see this but Fraser, who's crouched downnext to me and looking concerned. And Dief, who's licking myface. And Murray, damn it, who wanders away, expressionless asalways, his evil floor waxing work a triumph. And... aw geez.
Welsh walks by at just that moment, looks down at me totallydeadpan, and says, "You're *not* getting workman's comp forthis," before leaving.
Fraser briefly cracks a little smile, so I raise my fistheavenward and say, "Damn you, Murray! Damn you tohell!" to let him know I'm okay. Kind of. Okay, I hurt, butno need to let Fraser know that. And he grins. I hand him hishat, which I kept safe through my whole wild ride, only dentingthe brim a little from my fingers' deathgrip on it. I love thathat. It's his. "You found your smile, so you can have itback."
"Ray, I doubt that the janitor is engaged in some kind ofduel to the death with you."
"That's what he wants ya to think. I know him better.He's out to get me."
Fraser carefully helps me up without asking first, figuringI'd turn him down, and I accept as gracefully as I canconsidering the way my legs are twisted above me. Once up, Ishrug my shoulders to try to get my gun harness straps back inplace, but I think I'll have to dig them out of the trenches theycut into my back.
I try not to limp, but he notices and sits me down on a step."How much candy did you put in your coffee today?" heasks as he sits next to me.
"Dunno. Frannie bumped me this afternoon while I wasputting 'em in."
"Oh dear."
"But I'm good wired." I smirk."High-wired." He puts the Stetson on my head. It smellslike pine, like his hair. "What's that for?"
"It looks good on you."
Significant or just him? Hard to say, so I change the subjectby rubbing my hip and saying, "Damn, I'm not as young as Iused to be."
"Who is? And are you expecting me to believe that youcould easily polish the floor with your spine when you wereyounger?"
I did cheer him up; all I had to do was make a damned fool ofmyself. I tip his hat on my head. "Nah, but I used torecover faster."
After adjusting the fit of my harness for me, Fraser puts agentle arm around my shoulders. Shameless as ever, I move incloser, which he always seems to like. He doesn't touch everybodyas much as he does me. Just me, just me.
Stel, at her most withering, used to snap that women were theones that were supposed to want to be "just held." I'dloved her more than life itself, but that didn't make it easy tobe someone who had to touch everything matched with someone whodidn't want to be touched unless there was a damned good reason,like dancing or sex. "Just because" never cut it withStel, and I respected that. Didn't make me happy, but I wantedher to be happy. I tried so hard to make her happy...
..and I'm supposed to be cheering Fraser up, not bringingmyself down.
But why can't I have it all ways? There's way too muchdistance and coldness in the world not to take advantage ofhaving friendly people around.
Yeah, taking advantage is right, because I get this suddenurge, like I often do when we're close like this, to rub his neckwith my hair. Which I don't do usually and won't do now since I'mwearing the hat and anyway my hair is currently the scrub brushof doom. I hit the bleach a little too hard last time. I don'tlike doing it, but there's a reason why my real color's called*dirty* blond. Looks scuzzy. I don't know if nobody noticed thatmy hair's been, like, ten different shades since I started hereor if they did notice but were too polite to say anything.
*He* probably notices. One flare of those mighty nostrils, andthe game's up. Wonder what he thinks about it. Maybe he evenknows it's part of my style.
Plus, it spikes on its own and only needs to be washed maybeonce or twice a week.
I say, "Ya know you can talk to me if anything'sbothering you, right?"
"I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't realize I was being such poorcompany."
What a thick skull. You'd almost think *he* was Polish."Nah, not like that. I'm not one of those fair weatherbuddies. If talking helps or ya need someone to cheer you up, I'mhere for ya, guy."
"Oh. I was just thinking of home."
I am one selfish bastard that it bothers me when he misseshome. Yeah, it bothers me to see him upset and that's natural,but it also bothers me that one day he's going to get homesickand actually go home. I'm not going to let on, though."Yeah, not much here like home."
Fraser looks almost impish. "No one tries to steal my hatthere."
"Sounds like a negative, not a positive, to me, buddy.You could... you could go on vacation there." His lastvacation was two months there. I couldn't imagine being withouthim that long. Pathetic much, Ray? Geez, be an adult.
"It's not that bad."
"I'm glad to hear it."
Lieutenant Welsh walks by again, gives us that long-sufferinglook he does so well, and says, "Ray, will you get out ofhere? Go home. Constable, can you make sure he gets home withoutbeing a hazard to himself or others?"
"Yes, sir."
Finally! As I get my coat, Fraser says, "Thank you,Ray."
"Fer what?"
"For being there to talk to. For nearly breaking yourneck to try to cheer me up."
I take off his hat and hand it to him. "Fer stealing yerhat?"
"*That* is unforgivable." Then the sneak grabs mycoat from my hands and dodges my every attempt to get it back."Oh, do you want this?"
"Hey! *That's* not Mountie-like either!"
He smiles at me, all sugar and cream, and continues his gameof keep-away. "How would you know?"
It is buddies, though.
**********************THE END**********************
More Viridian5 stories can be found in The Green Room athttp://members.tripod.com/~drovar/viridian/
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"Will it fly?" "There's only one way to findout."