When the Walls Come Down by Aerye (PG)

[brynnmck.livejournal.com]

Fandom: Due South
Pairing: Vecchio/Kowalski
Author on LJ: aerye
Author Website: aerye

Why this must be read:

It's a cave-in fic (sort of), and I'm a sucker for those anyway, but this is a doozy; Aerye does such a brilliant job of putting the reader in Kowalski's headspace, terrified and confused and desperately worried for Vecchio, that the result is a genuinely tense read that was actually kind of hard for me to get through the first time—I was freaking out just as much as Kowalski was. The structure is very effective, and for a situation that's got high potential for overwrought drama, Aerye has a wonderfully delicate touch, everything understated and all the more powerful as a result. These guys are guys, and they're cops, and they're not going to be making tearful deathbed confessions of love, but there's a hell of a lot going on underneath the swearing and the banter—which is one of the things I love most about them. Plus? Vecchio calls Kowalski "tough guy." That will never, never not be awesome.

An excerpt:


"Well, I hope you didn't pay too much for the tip," Vecchio said, pulling a flashlight from his overcoat pocket. He turned it on, darting the light around the darker corners of the room. He shook his head. "The last time this joint saw action, Reagan was in the White House. Let's get out of here."

Ray shivered. It was cold as hell, and the stiff breeze from off the lake blowing in through the broken windows didn't help any. "Eddie swore to me this was the place," he said irritably, as he followed Vecchio down the stairs. "He said he saw the deal go down." He kicked an empty bottle. It made a satisfying hollow rattle as it rolled across the floor.

"Eddie Sanchez?" Vecchio sounded surprised.

"Naw, Eddie Casino. That motherfucker." He crossed his arms over his chest. It didn't make him feel any warmer. "Well, fuck. Now what?"

Vecchio grinned and shrugged. "I say we rattle Mr. Casino's chain. Get ourselves a refund. C'mon—I'll flip you for bad cop."

Ray snorted and grinned reluctantly. He hated when Vecchio got all reasonable. "You need to get a life—" He stopped.

The sound was low and hollow, almost like the long drawn out moan of a man in pain. Deep and reverberating, it started soft and got gradually louder, and then subsided. Ray looked around and then glanced at Vecchio, who looked just as mystified. The noise came again, louder this time, moaning and creaking with the sound of metal abrading. They exchanged another glance, quick and nervous, and drew their guns, twisting so that they were back to back. Vecchio whispered, "What the hell—Shit!"

The walls came down around them.


Find it here: When the Walls Come Down

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