due South fic for the dS/C6D tag
May. 2nd, 2012 10:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
luzulaTitle: Relief
Character: Victoria Metcalf
Rating: PG
Length: 700 words
Summary: She read the words in the paper: Legendary Mountie dead in hunting accident.
Notes: Written for the dS/C6D tag game, with the prompt "relief". Yes, it turns out yet again that a deadline will make me write something, but I won't necessarily think of a title for it. /o\ Please help me title this? I need to sleep now... ETA: Okay, I ended up just using the prompt as the title.
Victoria spotted the headline by accident, over the shoulder of one of the guards at the entrance to the mess hall.
Legendary Mountie dead in hunting accident
She craned her head, squinting to read the small print. It wasn't like she was expecting it to be about Ben or anything, it was just that the word "Mountie" drew her eye. So when she made out Sgt Fraser's body was found dead of a bullet wound it felt like a punch to the gut.
"Hey, move on," someone said, and jostled her in the line waiting to be served.
She drew in a breath, feeling oddly numb.
"Excuse me," she said to the guard, ignoring the woman in line behind her. "Can I borrow your newspaper?"
The guard glanced at her. "Sure," she said shortly. "When I'm done with it." But she leaned back in her seat, making no move to finish reading the paper.
A sudden urge to punch the woman in the jaw made Victoria clench her fist. She'd mostly learned to ignore the guards' petty little ways of showing their power, but she needed that paper, needed it like she needed to breathe.
"Move along," the guard said, and Victoria did. It wouldn't help her to make a scene.
She got her plate of food on the scratched-up plastic tray, fetched the spoon, the piece of bread, the glass of water. Sat down at a table.
Ben was dead.
Sure, there could be other Mounties named Fraser out there, but somehow it was the word legendary that did it for her. That single-minded dedication of his wouldn't have stopped at bringing her in despite the days and nights of blizzard, oh no. He'd have gone on to do the same to other criminals, and it didn't surprise her that he'd made a sergeant despite his young age.
Hunting accident, huh. She felt oddly cheated. She'd had plans, damn it, had nurtured those plans like a glowing coal of anger kept alive through the long cold years of prison. Come to think of it, a hunting accident would be one way to do it--so easy for a bullet to go astray. But not nearly satisfying enough.
And now? All that time she'd spent dwelling on him, on her revenge--empty and useless. She was adrift. In six months' time she'd be out in the world again. She had known exactly what she'd do, and now those plans were blown away like old cobwebs. Victoria felt light, like she wasn't even tethered to the world any more.
"You done?" someone said behind her. Damn it, she'd finished her meal without noticing and now she was just sitting here staring like a fool. She couldn't afford to let down her guard like that.
"Yeah," she said, standing up and carrying her tray to the waiting kitchen personnel. Ben was dead. She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, hardening her face to meet the gazes of the other inmates.
The newspaper was still there on the table. Victoria slowed to a stop in front of the guard, trying to think of the most likely strategy.
"This what you want?" the woman said, jabbing a thumb at the paper.
"If you're done with it," Victoria said carefully. But the woman's attention was caught by another guard, who signalled at her to come. She left, the newspaper forgotten on the table.
Victoria snatched it and hungrily scanned the lines before the guard could come back. Sergeant Robert Fraser of the RCMP was found...
Robert. Robert Fraser. Not Ben. She felt like she'd had the breath punched from her chest for the second time that day.
Could it still be him? She read on. No, he was too old--and there at the end of the short article: Sgt Fraser is survived by his son Benton Fraser, also of the RCMP.
Victoria read the sentence over and over, the familiar weight and purpose settling back on her shoulders.
Ben was alive.
Character: Victoria Metcalf
Rating: PG
Length: 700 words
Summary: She read the words in the paper: Legendary Mountie dead in hunting accident.
Notes: Written for the dS/C6D tag game, with the prompt "relief". Yes, it turns out yet again that a deadline will make me write something, but I won't necessarily think of a title for it. /o\ Please help me title this? I need to sleep now... ETA: Okay, I ended up just using the prompt as the title.
Victoria spotted the headline by accident, over the shoulder of one of the guards at the entrance to the mess hall.
Legendary Mountie dead in hunting accident
She craned her head, squinting to read the small print. It wasn't like she was expecting it to be about Ben or anything, it was just that the word "Mountie" drew her eye. So when she made out Sgt Fraser's body was found dead of a bullet wound it felt like a punch to the gut.
"Hey, move on," someone said, and jostled her in the line waiting to be served.
She drew in a breath, feeling oddly numb.
"Excuse me," she said to the guard, ignoring the woman in line behind her. "Can I borrow your newspaper?"
The guard glanced at her. "Sure," she said shortly. "When I'm done with it." But she leaned back in her seat, making no move to finish reading the paper.
A sudden urge to punch the woman in the jaw made Victoria clench her fist. She'd mostly learned to ignore the guards' petty little ways of showing their power, but she needed that paper, needed it like she needed to breathe.
"Move along," the guard said, and Victoria did. It wouldn't help her to make a scene.
She got her plate of food on the scratched-up plastic tray, fetched the spoon, the piece of bread, the glass of water. Sat down at a table.
Ben was dead.
Sure, there could be other Mounties named Fraser out there, but somehow it was the word legendary that did it for her. That single-minded dedication of his wouldn't have stopped at bringing her in despite the days and nights of blizzard, oh no. He'd have gone on to do the same to other criminals, and it didn't surprise her that he'd made a sergeant despite his young age.
Hunting accident, huh. She felt oddly cheated. She'd had plans, damn it, had nurtured those plans like a glowing coal of anger kept alive through the long cold years of prison. Come to think of it, a hunting accident would be one way to do it--so easy for a bullet to go astray. But not nearly satisfying enough.
And now? All that time she'd spent dwelling on him, on her revenge--empty and useless. She was adrift. In six months' time she'd be out in the world again. She had known exactly what she'd do, and now those plans were blown away like old cobwebs. Victoria felt light, like she wasn't even tethered to the world any more.
"You done?" someone said behind her. Damn it, she'd finished her meal without noticing and now she was just sitting here staring like a fool. She couldn't afford to let down her guard like that.
"Yeah," she said, standing up and carrying her tray to the waiting kitchen personnel. Ben was dead. She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, hardening her face to meet the gazes of the other inmates.
The newspaper was still there on the table. Victoria slowed to a stop in front of the guard, trying to think of the most likely strategy.
"This what you want?" the woman said, jabbing a thumb at the paper.
"If you're done with it," Victoria said carefully. But the woman's attention was caught by another guard, who signalled at her to come. She left, the newspaper forgotten on the table.
Victoria snatched it and hungrily scanned the lines before the guard could come back. Sergeant Robert Fraser of the RCMP was found...
Robert. Robert Fraser. Not Ben. She felt like she'd had the breath punched from her chest for the second time that day.
Could it still be him? She read on. No, he was too old--and there at the end of the short article: Sgt Fraser is survived by his son Benton Fraser, also of the RCMP.
Victoria read the sentence over and over, the familiar weight and purpose settling back on her shoulders.
Ben was alive.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-02 11:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-03 10:36 am (UTC)