(no subject)
Title: The Wild Card
Author: americanjedi
Fandom: Due South
Beta: primroseburrows
Rating: PG
Summary: Everything you ever needed to know about Dief. In Space!!
Elias Newman Diefenbaker was raised in a mixed household, his mother was a beautiful Canis woman with a shock of white hair that she braided and looped around her head to keep her ears warm. That’s what he remembered about, her hair, and that she was a great hunter and had beautiful pale and delicate feet, like Cinderella.
In the evenings Dief would play with his blocks made from bone, because wood was too expensive, on the fur rug in front of the fire and his mother would talk to him in the mangled linguistic mix that was Canis while his father typed up his reports.
His father was an Empire scientist who did his dissertation on the genetic progression of the Canis colony. He was tall and broad and had red hair. Dief knew his father loved his mother, which is why he was able to forgive him somewhat for becoming a total lush later.
***
Dief got married to Magdalena when he was eighteen; he had already been kicked out of his father’s house and had his own little cabin in the snow. He loved her more than anything. She was beautiful-- black hair, strong features, an excellent hunter.
They had twins, Buster and Sunny, who looked like their mother -- had his eyes though. His wife was sniped down by a man involved in human trafficking. His children were very young, alone in the snow.
His world had always been a very harsh place. It had no pity, not even for children.
Dief killed all three men involved.
***
Some people liked to say the Canis colony was the peak of human arrogance -- or of desperation. Canis had breathable oxygen, plenty of water and an average temperature pointedly below freezing. Dief thought it was like one of those affairs where the girl was convinced she could change that one thing about a guy and make him perfect. The recruitment posters should have read “Canis is awesome if you don’t mind your manly bits freezing off!” Turns out people did mind. So the Empire said, “Hmm, what do you know? Well then let’s just mess with people’s DNA.” And of course the only folks who would agree to that were criminals. So then Canis became like Australia in the old school days before they started running everyone’s wifi, only with no kangaroos and mandatory genetic alteration.
They made their hair thicker and their skin tougher. Dief wasn’t big on the details, only knew what he needed to know. But the scientist in charge of the experiment wonked up their serotonin levels so the Canis folks held more fat and ate like their life depended on it. Mostly because it did. Even after the Empire proved that the genetic changes didn’t kill the people they changed, folks were surprisingly uninterested. G2 came around (everyone on Canis knew the G for Generation lingo from all the tests and things that they were constantly being put through) and some of the side effects started to show up. Quicker than normal development, paleness (there had been more than one familial scrabble over babies paler than their parents), aggression, appetite, serotonin levels even higher than their parents and shorter life spans.
By the time Dief came along almost every on Canis had white hair, the famous “yellow” eyes, increased stamina, aggressive playfulness and enough serotonin in their system to kill a normal human. That’s how they tested to see if someone was Canis. Out in the real world, so to speak, they tested serotonin levels for practically everything. Dief could dye his hair, use contacts, but his blood would never lie. That meant most of the work he could find after he wandered out into the big wide galaxy, trying to get away from his loss, was either a little less than legal or really less than legal. He spent some time in a cell.
Met some nice people that way.
***
“Don’t try that with me,” Dief grinned at the two men sitting across from him. The owners of a bunch of nightclubs all over the Empire colonies, they were social celebrities. Anyone who was anyone knew who they were. Louis Jardin was Québécois and smoke like a chimney. Jack Huey was so English it hurt and his yearly clothing bill could probably fund the war effort.
“You misunderstand me, Mr. Diefenbaker,” Huey said, “We work for neither the Empire nor the US.”
“For one thing I’m a Separatist,” Louis said. “The War has made Her Majesty less than pleased with us.” Louis was a man of extremes it seemed he went from sprawling back in chairs, on the bar of the nightclub, with his arms around women (although word on the street was that his history with woman was varied and frankly a little depressing) to leaning in close with exaggerated care. It was hard to tell if he was serious or just had a tendency to overact. Jack was much calmer, acted like the galaxy was there for his amusement.
“Give me one reason I should trust you?” Dief said, honestly already deciding that he was going say no.
“Because you can’t,” Jack smiled at him. “And those are odds you can work with.”
***
The Mongoose was an awesome guy, absolutely amazing, could sneak donuts past anything. He was blessed great sense of humor, cursed with a serious martyr complex. Dief leaned against the side of Mongoose’s desk, which was covered with data pads and paperwork and bits of cords and things. Nothing that had any real information on anything-Mongoose had been trained not to leave any sort of a trail behind -- it was mostly directories of things.
“’…Sergeant Forbisher should be moved from his administrative posting at Fort Henry to either a teaching position or onto the position They want to fill at the space station Moose Hock…’” Dief read the request form over Mongoose’s shoulder. “The Lieutenant probably won’t probably put your suggestion through,” Dief said.
The Mongoose just made a face at him, persisting with his slow two finger typing, “Then I’ll send it in to him again.”
“Come on, Mongoose.”
“Frobisher was his partner, there’s a pretty good chance Bob Fraser sent him some sort of email, or even a notification. He may have information, and that means he may be in danger.”
“He could be involved,” Dief said around his tuna sandwich.
“What is this?” Mongoose flailed. “What is this? You’re getting crumbs all over. This is a carefully arranged system and you’re getting crumbs all over it.” He waved his hands over his desk. It didn’t look carefully arranged.
“Don’t be a baby,” Dief said and kissed him outrageously above his ear. Mongoose flailed wildly as expected and scowled at him while Dief laughed in sharp barks and the two of them, their unstoppable crime fighting team were good again. It was easy to get in good graces with Mongoose. The guy was like a little kid, just needed a little bit of love and he’d do whatever you wanted.
“He wasn’t involved.” Mongoose pouted.
“All right,” Dief said. “I don’t think They want to waste an in at the Depot with a guy that can’t be turned. And can you honestly say you want to exile some guy to the freezing edge of space?”
“He’s on a desk job. He was a cop back in the day, caught bad guys and stuff. At least working on Moose Hock he’ll be able to go out on patrols.”
“You have a desk job,” Dief frowned.
“This isn’t a desk job,” Mongoose laughed, patting the side of Dief’s face affectionately. “This is stopping the War.”
“Fraser Junior is going to stop the War?” Dief laughed.
“He just might.”
***
Benton had never been more scared in his life, not even when his little sister Maggie fell out of a tree and broke her leg when he was supposed to be watching her. Captain Baker was curled up in his arms, trembling against his chest.
Baker’s skin was pale and translucent, paler than it was usually, like wax paper or glass, so he could see the blue veins at his temples and wrists and eyelids that perfectly matched the blue of his lips. No one seemed to like Lieutenant Baker. He was part of the Empire’s new effort to afford some equality to its Canis population. But everyone knows Baker is a freak. He’s a little bit frightening, and he’s a freak.
“Medic,” he screams, “medic.” But no one can hear him; his voice is barely a whisper, barely a breath. And there’s no one to hear. He couldn’t feel his extremities, his calves were somewhere between completely numb and stinging lightly. It seemed the utmost of irony that for all the technological advancement that the Empire has to offer that nature can still bring men down to their knees, usually he loves it. It kept him safe, protected; there were rules, even if they were wild, toothy pitiless rules. But today it might kill the only friend he has. And if that’s not terribly maudlin he doesn’t know what is, it might be self-pitying, but it’s true.
They had bonded somehow on patrol, (they had been assigned together, partially because the officers in charge had thought that he might somehow be able to subdue the Canis man if he should start frothing at the mouth and eating small children or something ridiculous like that. All Baker had done was frolic, there really was no other word for it and sniff things knowingly. Benton was embarrassed however when the both of them had fallen into the old hunting trap. Baker had thought it was very exciting.) and then at the Second Battle of Victoria, where Benton had earned his rank. He had wanted to protest that Baker had received very little commendation, especially since Baker had been wounded as well, but once his friend had finished brooding he had been fine, like nothing happened.
If they had survived Victoria, a beautiful, deadly planet rich in natural resources, low on flora and fauna. If they had survived the curlicues of black volcanic glass that gleamed in the sun and that could cut a man open like a hot knife through butter. If they had survived squatting knee deep in red tinged snow. If they had survived the wind that sounded like a soft woman’s voice, promising, promising. Then why were they dying here?
It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right when it was Benton’s own fault for hying off and falling through the ice. He kept making promises one after the other to Dief, to God, to anything that would listen, that Dief wouldn’t have to die for trying to save him. And that he’d never again criticize him for sleeping in or being too loud, or too lazy, or for living off of sugary pastries while his friend, his best, best friend bled from his ears.
When the ship had finally come Benton was hallucinating and praying and refused to let Dief go, they had to tranquilize him. A fact which he never let Benton forget. Laying in recovery at the clinic had been one of the most restful times of Benton’s life, while Baker recovered from the surgery that returned his hearing and they both recovered from hypothermia.
That terrible peace that came from knowing someone would die for him.
***
He was rather fond of Auntie, and not just because she felt delightful under his fingertips. Even her sweat smelled sweet.
“You want a smoke?” Auntie said from her side of the bed.
“You don’t mind sharing?” Dief said, sprawled lazily on the bed smiling over at her. He liked that Auntie didn’t spring up the moment they had finished to straighten her hair and her make-up, she just reached for her cigarettes and curled up her long golden legs.
“Non,” she said in slow French and held her cigarette out for him. “I thought perhaps you would not come. Because of that rather lovely looking fellow you were with.”
“Benton Fraser? He’s my best friend,” Dief said almost mutinously, exhaling clouds of smoke above them. “Kind of an old fashioned sort of guy,” he paused and added, “but a good guy, he has a lot on his mind right now.” He watched Auntie as she takes back her cigarette, her teased up curls going everywhere. She was so beautiful. He wanted to buy her something before he left, something nice and expensive. “What’s your assignment?”
She curled up closer to him, he liked that, twisting one arm behind her to reach for the ashtray, snubbing out the cigarette blind. “I was in the Separatist movement, low grade political figure, once the War got bad.” She waved one hand, something that was starting to be a familiar gesture. “The Empire was less than pleased, but I was too valuable, had too many political assets, so they put me in charge of a consulate. A tiny little baby consulate, no staff other than Mounties, can you imagine? The parties were okay, but the paperwork. Enough to drive me mad, especially now that they have me working on the treaty committee under Senator Scarpa. I will admit the lady has excellent taste in shoes, but-”
“You don’t like to be bossed around,” Dief finished. She smiled and traced a mark she had left on his shoulder to reward him for his cleverness.
“Right now you’re just supposed to keep an eye on Fraser, and run back up for the Councilor, The Lieu is worried about him.”
Dief snuggled into her and closed his eyes, he was ready to sleep, “He lost his father. That can be hard.”
“Oui,” she said, tucking her head under his chin.
Oh, dear. He was falling in love.
***
Fraser was easy to work with, the guy got pissy and petulant and could guilt pretty much anyone into doing what he wanted by blinking innocently at them like he had no idea what he was doing. Yeah, right. Thing was, Fraser was stupid about some things, like he kept expecting Dief to run off. But Dief wasn’t going anywhere; the stupid Mountie needed someone to take care of him.
Author: americanjedi
Fandom: Due South
Beta: primroseburrows
Rating: PG
Summary: Everything you ever needed to know about Dief. In Space!!
Elias Newman Diefenbaker was raised in a mixed household, his mother was a beautiful Canis woman with a shock of white hair that she braided and looped around her head to keep her ears warm. That’s what he remembered about, her hair, and that she was a great hunter and had beautiful pale and delicate feet, like Cinderella.
In the evenings Dief would play with his blocks made from bone, because wood was too expensive, on the fur rug in front of the fire and his mother would talk to him in the mangled linguistic mix that was Canis while his father typed up his reports.
His father was an Empire scientist who did his dissertation on the genetic progression of the Canis colony. He was tall and broad and had red hair. Dief knew his father loved his mother, which is why he was able to forgive him somewhat for becoming a total lush later.
***
Dief got married to Magdalena when he was eighteen; he had already been kicked out of his father’s house and had his own little cabin in the snow. He loved her more than anything. She was beautiful-- black hair, strong features, an excellent hunter.
They had twins, Buster and Sunny, who looked like their mother -- had his eyes though. His wife was sniped down by a man involved in human trafficking. His children were very young, alone in the snow.
His world had always been a very harsh place. It had no pity, not even for children.
Dief killed all three men involved.
***
Some people liked to say the Canis colony was the peak of human arrogance -- or of desperation. Canis had breathable oxygen, plenty of water and an average temperature pointedly below freezing. Dief thought it was like one of those affairs where the girl was convinced she could change that one thing about a guy and make him perfect. The recruitment posters should have read “Canis is awesome if you don’t mind your manly bits freezing off!” Turns out people did mind. So the Empire said, “Hmm, what do you know? Well then let’s just mess with people’s DNA.” And of course the only folks who would agree to that were criminals. So then Canis became like Australia in the old school days before they started running everyone’s wifi, only with no kangaroos and mandatory genetic alteration.
They made their hair thicker and their skin tougher. Dief wasn’t big on the details, only knew what he needed to know. But the scientist in charge of the experiment wonked up their serotonin levels so the Canis folks held more fat and ate like their life depended on it. Mostly because it did. Even after the Empire proved that the genetic changes didn’t kill the people they changed, folks were surprisingly uninterested. G2 came around (everyone on Canis knew the G for Generation lingo from all the tests and things that they were constantly being put through) and some of the side effects started to show up. Quicker than normal development, paleness (there had been more than one familial scrabble over babies paler than their parents), aggression, appetite, serotonin levels even higher than their parents and shorter life spans.
By the time Dief came along almost every on Canis had white hair, the famous “yellow” eyes, increased stamina, aggressive playfulness and enough serotonin in their system to kill a normal human. That’s how they tested to see if someone was Canis. Out in the real world, so to speak, they tested serotonin levels for practically everything. Dief could dye his hair, use contacts, but his blood would never lie. That meant most of the work he could find after he wandered out into the big wide galaxy, trying to get away from his loss, was either a little less than legal or really less than legal. He spent some time in a cell.
Met some nice people that way.
***
“Don’t try that with me,” Dief grinned at the two men sitting across from him. The owners of a bunch of nightclubs all over the Empire colonies, they were social celebrities. Anyone who was anyone knew who they were. Louis Jardin was Québécois and smoke like a chimney. Jack Huey was so English it hurt and his yearly clothing bill could probably fund the war effort.
“You misunderstand me, Mr. Diefenbaker,” Huey said, “We work for neither the Empire nor the US.”
“For one thing I’m a Separatist,” Louis said. “The War has made Her Majesty less than pleased with us.” Louis was a man of extremes it seemed he went from sprawling back in chairs, on the bar of the nightclub, with his arms around women (although word on the street was that his history with woman was varied and frankly a little depressing) to leaning in close with exaggerated care. It was hard to tell if he was serious or just had a tendency to overact. Jack was much calmer, acted like the galaxy was there for his amusement.
“Give me one reason I should trust you?” Dief said, honestly already deciding that he was going say no.
“Because you can’t,” Jack smiled at him. “And those are odds you can work with.”
***
The Mongoose was an awesome guy, absolutely amazing, could sneak donuts past anything. He was blessed great sense of humor, cursed with a serious martyr complex. Dief leaned against the side of Mongoose’s desk, which was covered with data pads and paperwork and bits of cords and things. Nothing that had any real information on anything-Mongoose had been trained not to leave any sort of a trail behind -- it was mostly directories of things.
“’…Sergeant Forbisher should be moved from his administrative posting at Fort Henry to either a teaching position or onto the position They want to fill at the space station Moose Hock…’” Dief read the request form over Mongoose’s shoulder. “The Lieutenant probably won’t probably put your suggestion through,” Dief said.
The Mongoose just made a face at him, persisting with his slow two finger typing, “Then I’ll send it in to him again.”
“Come on, Mongoose.”
“Frobisher was his partner, there’s a pretty good chance Bob Fraser sent him some sort of email, or even a notification. He may have information, and that means he may be in danger.”
“He could be involved,” Dief said around his tuna sandwich.
“What is this?” Mongoose flailed. “What is this? You’re getting crumbs all over. This is a carefully arranged system and you’re getting crumbs all over it.” He waved his hands over his desk. It didn’t look carefully arranged.
“Don’t be a baby,” Dief said and kissed him outrageously above his ear. Mongoose flailed wildly as expected and scowled at him while Dief laughed in sharp barks and the two of them, their unstoppable crime fighting team were good again. It was easy to get in good graces with Mongoose. The guy was like a little kid, just needed a little bit of love and he’d do whatever you wanted.
“He wasn’t involved.” Mongoose pouted.
“All right,” Dief said. “I don’t think They want to waste an in at the Depot with a guy that can’t be turned. And can you honestly say you want to exile some guy to the freezing edge of space?”
“He’s on a desk job. He was a cop back in the day, caught bad guys and stuff. At least working on Moose Hock he’ll be able to go out on patrols.”
“You have a desk job,” Dief frowned.
“This isn’t a desk job,” Mongoose laughed, patting the side of Dief’s face affectionately. “This is stopping the War.”
“Fraser Junior is going to stop the War?” Dief laughed.
“He just might.”
***
Benton had never been more scared in his life, not even when his little sister Maggie fell out of a tree and broke her leg when he was supposed to be watching her. Captain Baker was curled up in his arms, trembling against his chest.
Baker’s skin was pale and translucent, paler than it was usually, like wax paper or glass, so he could see the blue veins at his temples and wrists and eyelids that perfectly matched the blue of his lips. No one seemed to like Lieutenant Baker. He was part of the Empire’s new effort to afford some equality to its Canis population. But everyone knows Baker is a freak. He’s a little bit frightening, and he’s a freak.
“Medic,” he screams, “medic.” But no one can hear him; his voice is barely a whisper, barely a breath. And there’s no one to hear. He couldn’t feel his extremities, his calves were somewhere between completely numb and stinging lightly. It seemed the utmost of irony that for all the technological advancement that the Empire has to offer that nature can still bring men down to their knees, usually he loves it. It kept him safe, protected; there were rules, even if they were wild, toothy pitiless rules. But today it might kill the only friend he has. And if that’s not terribly maudlin he doesn’t know what is, it might be self-pitying, but it’s true.
They had bonded somehow on patrol, (they had been assigned together, partially because the officers in charge had thought that he might somehow be able to subdue the Canis man if he should start frothing at the mouth and eating small children or something ridiculous like that. All Baker had done was frolic, there really was no other word for it and sniff things knowingly. Benton was embarrassed however when the both of them had fallen into the old hunting trap. Baker had thought it was very exciting.) and then at the Second Battle of Victoria, where Benton had earned his rank. He had wanted to protest that Baker had received very little commendation, especially since Baker had been wounded as well, but once his friend had finished brooding he had been fine, like nothing happened.
If they had survived Victoria, a beautiful, deadly planet rich in natural resources, low on flora and fauna. If they had survived the curlicues of black volcanic glass that gleamed in the sun and that could cut a man open like a hot knife through butter. If they had survived squatting knee deep in red tinged snow. If they had survived the wind that sounded like a soft woman’s voice, promising, promising. Then why were they dying here?
It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right when it was Benton’s own fault for hying off and falling through the ice. He kept making promises one after the other to Dief, to God, to anything that would listen, that Dief wouldn’t have to die for trying to save him. And that he’d never again criticize him for sleeping in or being too loud, or too lazy, or for living off of sugary pastries while his friend, his best, best friend bled from his ears.
When the ship had finally come Benton was hallucinating and praying and refused to let Dief go, they had to tranquilize him. A fact which he never let Benton forget. Laying in recovery at the clinic had been one of the most restful times of Benton’s life, while Baker recovered from the surgery that returned his hearing and they both recovered from hypothermia.
That terrible peace that came from knowing someone would die for him.
***
He was rather fond of Auntie, and not just because she felt delightful under his fingertips. Even her sweat smelled sweet.
“You want a smoke?” Auntie said from her side of the bed.
“You don’t mind sharing?” Dief said, sprawled lazily on the bed smiling over at her. He liked that Auntie didn’t spring up the moment they had finished to straighten her hair and her make-up, she just reached for her cigarettes and curled up her long golden legs.
“Non,” she said in slow French and held her cigarette out for him. “I thought perhaps you would not come. Because of that rather lovely looking fellow you were with.”
“Benton Fraser? He’s my best friend,” Dief said almost mutinously, exhaling clouds of smoke above them. “Kind of an old fashioned sort of guy,” he paused and added, “but a good guy, he has a lot on his mind right now.” He watched Auntie as she takes back her cigarette, her teased up curls going everywhere. She was so beautiful. He wanted to buy her something before he left, something nice and expensive. “What’s your assignment?”
She curled up closer to him, he liked that, twisting one arm behind her to reach for the ashtray, snubbing out the cigarette blind. “I was in the Separatist movement, low grade political figure, once the War got bad.” She waved one hand, something that was starting to be a familiar gesture. “The Empire was less than pleased, but I was too valuable, had too many political assets, so they put me in charge of a consulate. A tiny little baby consulate, no staff other than Mounties, can you imagine? The parties were okay, but the paperwork. Enough to drive me mad, especially now that they have me working on the treaty committee under Senator Scarpa. I will admit the lady has excellent taste in shoes, but-”
“You don’t like to be bossed around,” Dief finished. She smiled and traced a mark she had left on his shoulder to reward him for his cleverness.
“Right now you’re just supposed to keep an eye on Fraser, and run back up for the Councilor, The Lieu is worried about him.”
Dief snuggled into her and closed his eyes, he was ready to sleep, “He lost his father. That can be hard.”
“Oui,” she said, tucking her head under his chin.
Oh, dear. He was falling in love.
***
Fraser was easy to work with, the guy got pissy and petulant and could guilt pretty much anyone into doing what he wanted by blinking innocently at them like he had no idea what he was doing. Yeah, right. Thing was, Fraser was stupid about some things, like he kept expecting Dief to run off. But Dief wasn’t going anywhere; the stupid Mountie needed someone to take care of him.