WIP Amnesty fic: 1st page of "Maintiens le Droit"
Fandom: due South
Characters: Fraser, RayK
Summary: Fraser follows Ray across the line in pursuit of a serial killer.
Ratings: R
Author's Notes: This is the first page of the sequel to my snippet Accessory. I'm posting it for the wip_amnesty weekend. It is likely to remain forever unfinished.
Disclaimer: The concepts and characters herein are the property of Alliance/Atlantis.
I have spent my life fighting to maintain the right. There have been times when it seemed an impossible task. There were days where it was difficult to discern which course was the right one. But once I found it, I tried to walk the path of righteousness without hesitation.
Until recently.
The first victim was a beautiful girl, perhaps fifteen years old. She had been posed naked, blond hair spilling over the grass as her eyes gazed sightlessly up at a swing set. Ray let out a soft sound when he saw her, rushed to the edge of the crime scene, and collapsed on a bench.
I sat down beside him. "Ray - do you know the victim?"
He should his head mutely, hunched over as if in pain. We sat there for a few moments, the playground bustling with a perversion of its normal activity as police and technicians gathered evidence. I reached a hesitant hand out towards Ray's shoulder, but pulled back at the last moment. Diefenbaker, always less inhibited than I, rested his head on Ray's knee. Ray carded his fingers through Diefenbaker's ruff.
"She looks like Stella," Ray said finally, voice low and unsteady. "Just … give me a minute."
I nodded and returned to the body. I hadn't seen it at first, but there was something about the girl's high cheekbones and the shape of her chin that resembled Stella. They might have been sisters. Now that the original placement of the body had been photographed, one of Mort's assistants was carefully preparing the corpse to be moved. I put on a pair of gloves and assisted. Delicate red flecks of petechial hemorrhaging under her eyes suggested that the young woman had died of asphyxiation. She had no defensive wounds, and there was nothing under her nails. In fact, her body appeared to have been carefully washed, though I wasn't certain if it was pre or post-mortem.
Once she was safely inside a body bag, I looked up to find Ray briskly directing a group of uniformed officers. I joined him there and stayed by his side through the long day. Ray insisted on observing the autopsy, something he was normally reluctant to witness. He stood with his back turned, as if standing guard, while Mort and I examined her. She had died around midnight. There was a small amount of red wine in her stomach, but the young woman hadn't eaten in the last 48 hours.
We collected samples for a full toxicology screen, in hopes that the meticulous killer had left behind some trace of evidence.
The funny thing is that I'm not stuck on this story. I have a clear idea of the plot, twists and all. I know how the case is solved, and what the repercussions are. I'm just not willing to put Ray and Fraser through this particular hell. Writing it all down would make it a bit too real. Ugh.
Characters: Fraser, RayK
Summary: Fraser follows Ray across the line in pursuit of a serial killer.
Ratings: R
Author's Notes: This is the first page of the sequel to my snippet Accessory. I'm posting it for the wip_amnesty weekend. It is likely to remain forever unfinished.
Disclaimer: The concepts and characters herein are the property of Alliance/Atlantis.
I have spent my life fighting to maintain the right. There have been times when it seemed an impossible task. There were days where it was difficult to discern which course was the right one. But once I found it, I tried to walk the path of righteousness without hesitation.
Until recently.
The first victim was a beautiful girl, perhaps fifteen years old. She had been posed naked, blond hair spilling over the grass as her eyes gazed sightlessly up at a swing set. Ray let out a soft sound when he saw her, rushed to the edge of the crime scene, and collapsed on a bench.
I sat down beside him. "Ray - do you know the victim?"
He should his head mutely, hunched over as if in pain. We sat there for a few moments, the playground bustling with a perversion of its normal activity as police and technicians gathered evidence. I reached a hesitant hand out towards Ray's shoulder, but pulled back at the last moment. Diefenbaker, always less inhibited than I, rested his head on Ray's knee. Ray carded his fingers through Diefenbaker's ruff.
"She looks like Stella," Ray said finally, voice low and unsteady. "Just … give me a minute."
I nodded and returned to the body. I hadn't seen it at first, but there was something about the girl's high cheekbones and the shape of her chin that resembled Stella. They might have been sisters. Now that the original placement of the body had been photographed, one of Mort's assistants was carefully preparing the corpse to be moved. I put on a pair of gloves and assisted. Delicate red flecks of petechial hemorrhaging under her eyes suggested that the young woman had died of asphyxiation. She had no defensive wounds, and there was nothing under her nails. In fact, her body appeared to have been carefully washed, though I wasn't certain if it was pre or post-mortem.
Once she was safely inside a body bag, I looked up to find Ray briskly directing a group of uniformed officers. I joined him there and stayed by his side through the long day. Ray insisted on observing the autopsy, something he was normally reluctant to witness. He stood with his back turned, as if standing guard, while Mort and I examined her. She had died around midnight. There was a small amount of red wine in her stomach, but the young woman hadn't eaten in the last 48 hours.
We collected samples for a full toxicology screen, in hopes that the meticulous killer had left behind some trace of evidence.
The funny thing is that I'm not stuck on this story. I have a clear idea of the plot, twists and all. I know how the case is solved, and what the repercussions are. I'm just not willing to put Ray and Fraser through this particular hell. Writing it all down would make it a bit too real. Ugh.