ext_4057 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
nos4a2no9.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2007-11-18 12:32 pm
nos4a2no9.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2007-11-18 12:32 pm
Third Person by Julad (NC-17)
Third Person by Julad (NC-17)
Fandom: DUE SOUTH
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Author's Website: Julad’s Hideout
Author on LJ: N/A
Why this must be read:
Truth-telling time: I don't like episode-based fics. I find them a little dull to read, and I have a hard time getting through descriptions of incidents I've already seen on the show. So it takes something special to get me to read episode-based fic, and Julad's story is one of those rare cases where it works.
Third Person is set just after "Eclipse" and "I Coulda Been a Defendant" and deals with the fallout from those episodes. Ray Kowalski is still getting used to the lay of the Vecchio land, and he's started to notice some of his new partner's...quirks. Such as the Mountie's tendency to hold conversations with thin air. Because we're seeing everything from Kowalski's perspective, Fraser's conversations with his long-deceased father becomes a confusing game in third-person misdirection as we try to work out who is speaking to whom, and what exactly it is they're saying. Throughout the story we feel Ray's frustration and share his concern that Fraser is certifiable, and when the two end up in the 2-7s supply closet together he forces Fraser into a confession, although it's not quite the one Ray (or we) expected. Julad shifts gears after that to bring Kowalski and Fraser together in a bittersweet moment of recognition, and the whole story works as an intense, thoughtful reconsideration of Fraser from a stranger's point of view.
I watch him as he starts cleaning up his own hand, trying to figure my gut into words. This guy thinks *really* big. Not just the big picture; he's got this whole art gallery in his head, full of all the nicest paintings in the world. And maybe in one of those paintings me and him are doing the wild thing, but in all the rest of 'em we're just good buds, kicking down the bad guys and helping little old ladies cross the street.
I bet even more that when Fraser meets a guy he likes, his painting is of the guy looking totally happy, with his arm around somebody else.
Big dumb soft tough-guy Mountie. He'll get it some day. "You ready for sleepy-byes?"
He nods, and puts the hospital shit away. He didn't put a bandage on his hand, but he probably knows I'll ditch mine in the morning. "Do you mind if I..." jerks his head at the bathroom.
"Knock yourself out."
"Don't worry," he says over his shoulder as he goes. "I'll be careful not to slip."
Har-de-har-har. "Towels under the sink."
"Thank you kindly."
"And if there aren't any clean ones just use whatever don't stink too bad."
His face says har-de-har back at me, and he shuts the door.
Shower starts up. I wonder if I got any spare shorts, but he wouldn't fit in them so why bother. I pull out a blanket and chuck it over the couch, and then flop down on it with the remote and turn on the box and think, unwinding my bandage as I go.
Fraser probably doesn't have paintings of himself with his arm around anybody. Except maybe people like the real Vecchio, that postcard, but that's just buddies. Maybe there's a really small one, dark and fuzzy and hidden in the basement, of him and somebody with no face, but he doesn't think that one matters.
Third Person
Fandom: DUE SOUTH
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Author's Website: Julad’s Hideout
Author on LJ: N/A
Why this must be read:
Truth-telling time: I don't like episode-based fics. I find them a little dull to read, and I have a hard time getting through descriptions of incidents I've already seen on the show. So it takes something special to get me to read episode-based fic, and Julad's story is one of those rare cases where it works.
Third Person is set just after "Eclipse" and "I Coulda Been a Defendant" and deals with the fallout from those episodes. Ray Kowalski is still getting used to the lay of the Vecchio land, and he's started to notice some of his new partner's...quirks. Such as the Mountie's tendency to hold conversations with thin air. Because we're seeing everything from Kowalski's perspective, Fraser's conversations with his long-deceased father becomes a confusing game in third-person misdirection as we try to work out who is speaking to whom, and what exactly it is they're saying. Throughout the story we feel Ray's frustration and share his concern that Fraser is certifiable, and when the two end up in the 2-7s supply closet together he forces Fraser into a confession, although it's not quite the one Ray (or we) expected. Julad shifts gears after that to bring Kowalski and Fraser together in a bittersweet moment of recognition, and the whole story works as an intense, thoughtful reconsideration of Fraser from a stranger's point of view.
I watch him as he starts cleaning up his own hand, trying to figure my gut into words. This guy thinks *really* big. Not just the big picture; he's got this whole art gallery in his head, full of all the nicest paintings in the world. And maybe in one of those paintings me and him are doing the wild thing, but in all the rest of 'em we're just good buds, kicking down the bad guys and helping little old ladies cross the street.
I bet even more that when Fraser meets a guy he likes, his painting is of the guy looking totally happy, with his arm around somebody else.
Big dumb soft tough-guy Mountie. He'll get it some day. "You ready for sleepy-byes?"
He nods, and puts the hospital shit away. He didn't put a bandage on his hand, but he probably knows I'll ditch mine in the morning. "Do you mind if I..." jerks his head at the bathroom.
"Knock yourself out."
"Don't worry," he says over his shoulder as he goes. "I'll be careful not to slip."
Har-de-har-har. "Towels under the sink."
"Thank you kindly."
"And if there aren't any clean ones just use whatever don't stink too bad."
His face says har-de-har back at me, and he shuts the door.
Shower starts up. I wonder if I got any spare shorts, but he wouldn't fit in them so why bother. I pull out a blanket and chuck it over the couch, and then flop down on it with the remote and turn on the box and think, unwinding my bandage as I go.
Fraser probably doesn't have paintings of himself with his arm around anybody. Except maybe people like the real Vecchio, that postcard, but that's just buddies. Maybe there's a really small one, dark and fuzzy and hidden in the basement, of him and somebody with no face, but he doesn't think that one matters.
Third Person