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crack_van2006-04-25 12:40 am
visionshadows.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2006-04-25 12:40 am
Déjà Vu All Over Again by Vienna Waits (PG-13)
Fandom: due South
Pairing: Welsh gen with a side of Fraser/RayK and maybe a smidgen of Welsh/Frannie, but only if you squint
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vienna_waits
Author's Website: Hosted on Red Ships Green Ships
Why this must be read: There is a serious lack of really good Welsh fic out there. He's an interesting guy with a great backstory that we saw a glimpse of in Dr. Longball. Vienna takes that backstory, fleshes it out, and brings it to the present where Welsh is busy running his department and has to deal with his father, Frannie, Fraser, Ray, and the rest of his friends and family. Of course, when his dead mother shows up moments before he dies, things start to get a little strange.
This is Welsh learning about his friends and family. This is a Welsh you can fall in love with. This is Welsh as you don't get to see him on the show.
A Marshall Field’s truck stood across both northbound lanes, slowly backing into an alley off to the right. I reflexively slammed on the brakes, but I already knew I was going too fast and it wouldn’t do any good. In about eight-tenths of a second, I was going to be splattered all over the side of the truck after my car hurtled into it. In another stupid and useless reflex, my hands flew up and my eyes squinched shut. I knew full well it was stupid and useless, but I didn’t bother to resist the impulse.
The engine went silent, but there was no impact. I waited one second, two, five. Hm. People said your sense of time got all stretched out in times of crisis. Maybe I was just an extreme case.
Still nothing. Maybe I had already left my body or something, and I was just dead? Had I somehow conveniently skipped the
actual die-a-horrible-death part?
Then a familiar smell hit my nose…Pall Mall cigarettes? The afterlife smelled like Pall Mall cigarettes? What the hell? Maybe I was delusional in my death throes and the car had exploded. Cautiously, I lowered my arms and opened one eye, and then the other.
My mother was sitting in the passenger seat. “Hello, Harding,” she said, smooth as can be, smoke curling up off the cigarette she held between her extended pointer and middle finger. She was dressed for church—in the late 1970’s.
I just stared open-mouthed at her, at her cigarette, at all of it. My mind spun and spun and spun like a washing machine gone wild, but she seemed content to just watch me, clearly amused.
Finally, I settled on the only explanation that made any sense at all. “I’m dead, right? I have to be. That’s why you’re here. They say when you die, you see people you knew who died before you.” It was kind of a shock, being dead, but it was awfully nice to see my mother again.
She laughed, a rich, bubbly sound that made me realize how much I missed hearing it, and shook her head. “Wrong.”
Déjà Vu All Over Again
Pairing: Welsh gen with a side of Fraser/RayK and maybe a smidgen of Welsh/Frannie, but only if you squint
Author on LJ:
vienna_waitsAuthor's Website: Hosted on Red Ships Green Ships
Why this must be read: There is a serious lack of really good Welsh fic out there. He's an interesting guy with a great backstory that we saw a glimpse of in Dr. Longball. Vienna takes that backstory, fleshes it out, and brings it to the present where Welsh is busy running his department and has to deal with his father, Frannie, Fraser, Ray, and the rest of his friends and family. Of course, when his dead mother shows up moments before he dies, things start to get a little strange.
This is Welsh learning about his friends and family. This is a Welsh you can fall in love with. This is Welsh as you don't get to see him on the show.
A Marshall Field’s truck stood across both northbound lanes, slowly backing into an alley off to the right. I reflexively slammed on the brakes, but I already knew I was going too fast and it wouldn’t do any good. In about eight-tenths of a second, I was going to be splattered all over the side of the truck after my car hurtled into it. In another stupid and useless reflex, my hands flew up and my eyes squinched shut. I knew full well it was stupid and useless, but I didn’t bother to resist the impulse.
The engine went silent, but there was no impact. I waited one second, two, five. Hm. People said your sense of time got all stretched out in times of crisis. Maybe I was just an extreme case.
Still nothing. Maybe I had already left my body or something, and I was just dead? Had I somehow conveniently skipped the
actual die-a-horrible-death part?
Then a familiar smell hit my nose…Pall Mall cigarettes? The afterlife smelled like Pall Mall cigarettes? What the hell? Maybe I was delusional in my death throes and the car had exploded. Cautiously, I lowered my arms and opened one eye, and then the other.
My mother was sitting in the passenger seat. “Hello, Harding,” she said, smooth as can be, smoke curling up off the cigarette she held between her extended pointer and middle finger. She was dressed for church—in the late 1970’s.
I just stared open-mouthed at her, at her cigarette, at all of it. My mind spun and spun and spun like a washing machine gone wild, but she seemed content to just watch me, clearly amused.
Finally, I settled on the only explanation that made any sense at all. “I’m dead, right? I have to be. That’s why you’re here. They say when you die, you see people you knew who died before you.” It was kind of a shock, being dead, but it was awfully nice to see my mother again.
She laughed, a rich, bubbly sound that made me realize how much I missed hearing it, and shook her head. “Wrong.”
Déjà Vu All Over Again