ext_28386 (
mizface.livejournal.com) wrote in
crack_van2010-07-04 01:19 am
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Legal Following Distance (PG) by chesamus
For my second RayK and Stella rec, we’re cruising over to another challenge comm,
ds_shakespeare. Yes, you read that right – it’s due South (and C6D) stories with prompts supplied by the Bard. How can that not equal fantastic fic?
Fandom: DUE SOUTH
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Length: 1983 words
Author on LJ:
chesamus
Author Website: fic here
Why this must be read:
Because it starts with RayK in full-tilt “kick ‘em in the head” form. Because Stella is wonderfully portrayed. Because Ray and Stella get to be friends again. Because it will make you smile. So go read it, already!
“I hate this fucking building.” I stomp through the lobby, daring anyone to stop me. “I hate it!”
I can hear heels tapping on the marble floors working to keep up. I don't care. Months of work, of stakeouts, bad coffee, Dewey's jokes, Huey's constant tapping, the Ice Queen bitching over every minute Fraser could spare, motions and depositions and preliminary hearings and jury selection and convictions at last.
And for what? Because three years later, some jailhouse lawyer convinces these bastards that torching a car after you put the dead guy inside, even though the fire spreads to the garage the car is in and then the house and leaves the guy's wife and kids hurt and homeless, isn't a mitigating circumstance. Cuz see, they really didn't plan to torch the garage or the house, just the car to hide the evidence, so really, how can that be arson?
Now they get a hearing to decide if they're entitled to a new trial or just new sentencing. And the defense team gets it on the schedule pronto - God only knows how that happens with Chicago's backlog - and they're probably thinking that with the only witness to their confession in the Arctic fixing the snowmobile from hell, fast-tracking the hearing would be like some wonderful get out of jail card. Instead, the prosecutor gets on the phone, tracks me down in my machine shop and says can I get to Chicago by 9:00am the next day.
Doable, but not easy, and I may never be able to straighten my back again. Bert flies me from Inuvik to Yellowknife to catch the 3:00 to Calgary. From there it's thirteen hours give or take a few minutes to Chicago.
Then it's like one of those movies, where the good guy gets a police escort which rushes him to the courthouse and he bursts through the double doors leading into the courtroom to save the day for truth, justice, and the American Way, much to the delight of the crowd and the dismay of the defense. Except the escort is just a fast ride from O'Hare in Welsh's sedan with the lights and siren going, and we stop at the 27th so I can shower and shave in the locker room first, and the courtroom only has one door, and the crowd is just the judge, the court reporter, three lawyers, two scumballs, a couple guards, and some old lady doing a crossword puzzle in the back row. And the American Way doesn't apply because I'm Canadian now.
Legal Following Distance
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
Fandom: DUE SOUTH
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Length: 1983 words
Author on LJ:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Author Website: fic here
Why this must be read:
Because it starts with RayK in full-tilt “kick ‘em in the head” form. Because Stella is wonderfully portrayed. Because Ray and Stella get to be friends again. Because it will make you smile. So go read it, already!
“I hate this fucking building.” I stomp through the lobby, daring anyone to stop me. “I hate it!”
I can hear heels tapping on the marble floors working to keep up. I don't care. Months of work, of stakeouts, bad coffee, Dewey's jokes, Huey's constant tapping, the Ice Queen bitching over every minute Fraser could spare, motions and depositions and preliminary hearings and jury selection and convictions at last.
And for what? Because three years later, some jailhouse lawyer convinces these bastards that torching a car after you put the dead guy inside, even though the fire spreads to the garage the car is in and then the house and leaves the guy's wife and kids hurt and homeless, isn't a mitigating circumstance. Cuz see, they really didn't plan to torch the garage or the house, just the car to hide the evidence, so really, how can that be arson?
Now they get a hearing to decide if they're entitled to a new trial or just new sentencing. And the defense team gets it on the schedule pronto - God only knows how that happens with Chicago's backlog - and they're probably thinking that with the only witness to their confession in the Arctic fixing the snowmobile from hell, fast-tracking the hearing would be like some wonderful get out of jail card. Instead, the prosecutor gets on the phone, tracks me down in my machine shop and says can I get to Chicago by 9:00am the next day.
Doable, but not easy, and I may never be able to straighten my back again. Bert flies me from Inuvik to Yellowknife to catch the 3:00 to Calgary. From there it's thirteen hours give or take a few minutes to Chicago.
Then it's like one of those movies, where the good guy gets a police escort which rushes him to the courthouse and he bursts through the double doors leading into the courtroom to save the day for truth, justice, and the American Way, much to the delight of the crowd and the dismay of the defense. Except the escort is just a fast ride from O'Hare in Welsh's sedan with the lights and siren going, and we stop at the 27th so I can shower and shave in the locker room first, and the courtroom only has one door, and the crowd is just the judge, the court reporter, three lawyers, two scumballs, a couple guards, and some old lady doing a crossword puzzle in the back row. And the American Way doesn't apply because I'm Canadian now.
Legal Following Distance