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julia-here.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2009-06-12 05:28 pm
julia-here.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2009-06-12 05:28 pm
Tip, Slide, Tumble by J.S. Cavalcante, to NC-17
There was no story on my back list of recs that I was more surprised hadn't been posted here than the one I'm recommending today; it's one I'd use to introduce a newbie to the fandom, since it's so respecting of canon and so three-dimensional.
Fandom:DUE SOUTH
Pairing: Ray Kowalski/Benton Fraser
Length: Novella
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
j_s_cavalcante
Author Website: J.S. Cavalcante at Due Slash Archive
Why this must be read: Because it lives and breathes and grows like a healthy thing does. Because all aspects of the plot are tightly integrated and recognizably human. Because every OC is well written, fully fleshed out, and wonderfully individual. Because Ray gets what he wants, and everyone else gets what they need (and Ray figures out how lucky he is, all things considered).
"Ray?" Huey's voice, next to him, cracked a little in the cold night air. "You okay, man?"
Ray shook his head, unable to speak, trying to get some air, trying to make the alley hold still for a minute. Finally he managed a few words. "I know her."
"Oh, Jeez," Huey said. "Lieu!"
But Welsh had seen. "Fraser!" he barked, "get your partner out of here, please."
Fraser had been down at the end of the alley, probably sniffing and licking disgusting things, but either Ray must have lost a few seconds there, or Fraser really could fly like Superman, because it seemed like his big, warm hand was on Ray's shoulder before Welsh even finished speaking.
"Ray." Fraser's voice in his ear made him shiver.
Ray's knees felt old and tired as he got to his feet. Why wouldn't the alley stop moving around on him?
Fraser's hand was still on his shoulder, pressing kind of hard. Helping him focus. "I think they're ready for her," Fraser said.
She'd be photographed, measured, checked out in place, first. Then the ME would bag and tag her, and Welsh was right; Ray shouldn't watch that. It was hard enough to watch that procedure when the victim was some stranger.
Not that Ray knew her well, 'cause he didn't. Nobody really knew her. Except maybe one little guy, and he wasn't talking much.
Ray was up, moving away from her, but he wasn't fast enough, and he saw them coming for her, their white gloves reaching for her, and he heard his boots make a scraping sound on the pavement like he'd lost his balance, which Ray almost never did that, he was usually steady on his feet no matter what. The tightness rose up inside his stomach and he was either going to puke or do something worse, like cry, maybe, but instead he whipped around, away from where they were doing stuff to her, away from Fraser's steadying hand, away towards the brick wall of the alley, fist first--
"Ray!"
"Dammit Fraser!" It took a few seconds for Ray to twig to the fact that he'd said something, a few more to notice his hand was on the wall again, knuckles first. It came away slippery. Wow, that was going to--
Okay, yeah. That hurt. Fuck. He forced his hand open and aimed for the wall again with his palm, but something stopped him. Fraser's hand had clamped around his wrist like a too-tight handcuff.
"Hey, what're you--?"
"I can't let you destroy your hand, Ray," said the Voice of Reason.
"Kowalski!" That was Welsh's bark, from over by one of the cars. Ray went toward him, and Fraser let go of his wrist immediately, but stayed so close behind him that Ray thought he could feel Fraser's warm breath on his neck.
Welsh's eyes were compassionate, but he had his no-nonsense face on, which steadied Ray almost as much as Fraser's hand had done. "Tell me what you know, Detective."
Ray knew his hand hurt like hell. He felt Fraser grab it, wrap something around it: a clean, cloth handkerchief. Of course. As Ray watched, red spots appeared in it over each knuckle. His stomach felt like it was pushing up into his throat with the need to throw up. He swallowed hard.
"Dani," he managed to say. "Danitra Brown. She's about twenty-five, I think. Nobody really knows. Crack...she's, you know, did crack, and, uh..."
"Crackhead? Crack whore?"
For the first time ever, Ray sincerely wanted to hit his lieu.
He wouldn't have, of course. He was pissed off, but he wasn't stupid. He'd have hit the wall once more instead, but Fraser's hand was making like a cuff again, Fraser's strength was wrenching his arm back so hard that Welsh probably didn't even see Ray's muscles twitching.
"Don't call her that. Sir." Ray's teeth were gritted so hard they were making a sound.
"Sorry. Crack addict and prostitute," Welsh revised. "Focus, Kowalski. Tell me what you know, then get out of here and get your head together. Jack and Dewey are catching this one."
"No, sir! It's my case, I got the call, I found her--" He'd been driving through the neighborhood, heard the alert come in on the radio--a neighbor saw somebody drop in the alley, please investigate--and Ray and Fraser were right there, just a block and a half away, checking out the Cabrinis' usual haunts.
"Your objectivity's clearly out the window," Welsh said. His eyes narrowed. "How well do you know her?"
"Not that well. It's not that. She hangs...she hung around the projects. The community center, the gym, sometimes. I'd see her there. Levon...you remember Levon Jefferson, the boxer?"
"Sure."
"If nobody was around, Levon would talk to her, and I'd talk to her any time, but then, I already stand out down there, skinny white cop, it's not like I got a rep to protect, not like Levon."
"Since when are the Cabrini gang members loath to associate with addicts and prostitutes?" Welsh said. "Is this some new development no one has seen fit to inform me about?"
"Nah, it's not that." Jesus, Fraser was hurting his arm. Fraser wouldn't do that unless there was a real good reason.
Which, yeah, now that he thought about it, Ray's shoulder muscles were still twitching with the need to hit something. Fraser was right. Ray'd smash his hand and be out of commission for weeks if he didn't get his shit together. He shook out his neck, tried to make himself cool it.
"Kowalski, you've been on the force eighteen years. You've seen dead crack addicts before, even ones you knew. What's so special about this one?"
Ray felt his throat tighten up. He sagged a bit in Fraser's grip. "She's got a kid."
Tip, Slide, Tumble
Fandom:DUE SOUTH
Pairing: Ray Kowalski/Benton Fraser
Length: Novella
Author on LJ:
j_s_cavalcanteAuthor Website: J.S. Cavalcante at Due Slash Archive
Why this must be read: Because it lives and breathes and grows like a healthy thing does. Because all aspects of the plot are tightly integrated and recognizably human. Because every OC is well written, fully fleshed out, and wonderfully individual. Because Ray gets what he wants, and everyone else gets what they need (and Ray figures out how lucky he is, all things considered).
"Ray?" Huey's voice, next to him, cracked a little in the cold night air. "You okay, man?"
Ray shook his head, unable to speak, trying to get some air, trying to make the alley hold still for a minute. Finally he managed a few words. "I know her."
"Oh, Jeez," Huey said. "Lieu!"
But Welsh had seen. "Fraser!" he barked, "get your partner out of here, please."
Fraser had been down at the end of the alley, probably sniffing and licking disgusting things, but either Ray must have lost a few seconds there, or Fraser really could fly like Superman, because it seemed like his big, warm hand was on Ray's shoulder before Welsh even finished speaking.
"Ray." Fraser's voice in his ear made him shiver.
Ray's knees felt old and tired as he got to his feet. Why wouldn't the alley stop moving around on him?
Fraser's hand was still on his shoulder, pressing kind of hard. Helping him focus. "I think they're ready for her," Fraser said.
She'd be photographed, measured, checked out in place, first. Then the ME would bag and tag her, and Welsh was right; Ray shouldn't watch that. It was hard enough to watch that procedure when the victim was some stranger.
Not that Ray knew her well, 'cause he didn't. Nobody really knew her. Except maybe one little guy, and he wasn't talking much.
Ray was up, moving away from her, but he wasn't fast enough, and he saw them coming for her, their white gloves reaching for her, and he heard his boots make a scraping sound on the pavement like he'd lost his balance, which Ray almost never did that, he was usually steady on his feet no matter what. The tightness rose up inside his stomach and he was either going to puke or do something worse, like cry, maybe, but instead he whipped around, away from where they were doing stuff to her, away from Fraser's steadying hand, away towards the brick wall of the alley, fist first--
"Ray!"
"Dammit Fraser!" It took a few seconds for Ray to twig to the fact that he'd said something, a few more to notice his hand was on the wall again, knuckles first. It came away slippery. Wow, that was going to--
Okay, yeah. That hurt. Fuck. He forced his hand open and aimed for the wall again with his palm, but something stopped him. Fraser's hand had clamped around his wrist like a too-tight handcuff.
"Hey, what're you--?"
"I can't let you destroy your hand, Ray," said the Voice of Reason.
"Kowalski!" That was Welsh's bark, from over by one of the cars. Ray went toward him, and Fraser let go of his wrist immediately, but stayed so close behind him that Ray thought he could feel Fraser's warm breath on his neck.
Welsh's eyes were compassionate, but he had his no-nonsense face on, which steadied Ray almost as much as Fraser's hand had done. "Tell me what you know, Detective."
Ray knew his hand hurt like hell. He felt Fraser grab it, wrap something around it: a clean, cloth handkerchief. Of course. As Ray watched, red spots appeared in it over each knuckle. His stomach felt like it was pushing up into his throat with the need to throw up. He swallowed hard.
"Dani," he managed to say. "Danitra Brown. She's about twenty-five, I think. Nobody really knows. Crack...she's, you know, did crack, and, uh..."
"Crackhead? Crack whore?"
For the first time ever, Ray sincerely wanted to hit his lieu.
He wouldn't have, of course. He was pissed off, but he wasn't stupid. He'd have hit the wall once more instead, but Fraser's hand was making like a cuff again, Fraser's strength was wrenching his arm back so hard that Welsh probably didn't even see Ray's muscles twitching.
"Don't call her that. Sir." Ray's teeth were gritted so hard they were making a sound.
"Sorry. Crack addict and prostitute," Welsh revised. "Focus, Kowalski. Tell me what you know, then get out of here and get your head together. Jack and Dewey are catching this one."
"No, sir! It's my case, I got the call, I found her--" He'd been driving through the neighborhood, heard the alert come in on the radio--a neighbor saw somebody drop in the alley, please investigate--and Ray and Fraser were right there, just a block and a half away, checking out the Cabrinis' usual haunts.
"Your objectivity's clearly out the window," Welsh said. His eyes narrowed. "How well do you know her?"
"Not that well. It's not that. She hangs...she hung around the projects. The community center, the gym, sometimes. I'd see her there. Levon...you remember Levon Jefferson, the boxer?"
"Sure."
"If nobody was around, Levon would talk to her, and I'd talk to her any time, but then, I already stand out down there, skinny white cop, it's not like I got a rep to protect, not like Levon."
"Since when are the Cabrini gang members loath to associate with addicts and prostitutes?" Welsh said. "Is this some new development no one has seen fit to inform me about?"
"Nah, it's not that." Jesus, Fraser was hurting his arm. Fraser wouldn't do that unless there was a real good reason.
Which, yeah, now that he thought about it, Ray's shoulder muscles were still twitching with the need to hit something. Fraser was right. Ray'd smash his hand and be out of commission for weeks if he didn't get his shit together. He shook out his neck, tried to make himself cool it.
"Kowalski, you've been on the force eighteen years. You've seen dead crack addicts before, even ones you knew. What's so special about this one?"
Ray felt his throat tighten up. He sagged a bit in Fraser's grip. "She's got a kid."
Tip, Slide, Tumble
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Julia, I'm getting over whatever it was I had for the last couple of weeks, and hope to read your latest and a bunch of other stuff I've missed from sheer sleepiness.