WIP Amnesty, Day 6
This is, um. The other Due South kidfic I wanted to write, but I knew no one (except pearl_o!) really wanted to read this one, so I didn't write much of it.
It never did have a title so much as a string of warnings:
Death-Het-Kidfic (And I mean it, about the Death part. A lot. Okay?)
My name is Fraser. Bryan Joseph Kowalski Fraser. Don't call me BJ and don't combine my third name with my fourth. My name is Fraser, and I know where I come from and who I am.
My dad was glad they called it Eskimo's Revenge. 'There are no people for whom Eskimo is the correct name,' he said, 'so they can have their Revenge and their forty-three words for snow, and ignorant people aren't dragging the name of the Inuit through the mud.' My pop said it was a pretty dumb name for a plague any way you sliced it, and my dad didn't contradict him.
I was born in Tuktoyaktuk, from the body of a woman named Rose Makkik, though she was not my mother: that was Maggie Mackenzie, my dad's half-sister, and my pop's my biological father. My godmother Rose, my Aunt Maggie, my dad, my pop. I had more parents than some of our neighbors had toes.
There were five major outbreaks of the disease they called Eskimo's Revenge, the Iglulik virus. The first four came in summertime. My godmother died in the second, and Aunt Maggie in the fourth. My dad was quarantined during the third, caught in an outbreak zone while he was on patrol. My pop and I talked to him on the phone every day, waiting for him to come home, praying him safe at bedtimes and mealtimes and every time in between.
The fifth outbreak came in the winter, when everybody was huddled together against the long nights and harsh storms. My dad got sick first, and then my pop. My mothers died under endless suns, but my fathers died in the dark.
Dad and Pop were among the last to die. By then there were too many orphans for anyone to keep track of, so I spent most of my time in the crowded hospice where they shared a bed. I sat perched between them through those last dark days, holding Dad's hand and listening to Pop talk.
He told me to remember who I was and where I came from. The beauty and the wonder of the Territories and Yukon, the land that made my dad, the land my pop chose, the land they stuck with for better or worse, in sickness and health, the land where I'd been born and where my ancestors were buried.
Then he told me they were sending me to Chicago, to live with Ray and Stella.
***
Then there was this whole middle part: Bryan went to Chicago and Ray met him at the airport without Stella, who was perhaps understandably less than excited about adopting her ex-husband's child into the middle of her own second and still childless and not precisely harmonious marriage. Ray and Stella had been together at this point for about ten years, and things were getting rocky, probably not for the first time.
So Bryan is dropped into this rather tense household, with Stella and Ray both making a game effort for their orphan ward but, you know, not holding a candle to Bryan's dad and pop, and you are starting to wonder why the fuck you are reading this.
And then Ray and Fraser come around in a snowy wilderness. They spend a little time celebrating the fact that they are here and together, and then Fraser says he's pretty sure he knows what's going on, and finds his way to a door, which lets them into Bryan's bedroom closet.
Hijinks ensue. Bryan is of course thrilled to see his parents again; it turns out that Vecchio can see Fraser and Stella can see RayK, but not the other way around, leading to a great deal of wackiness in conversations.
And then they fight crime: it turns out that the plague was manufactured to decimate the population of northern Canada, which, between the actual deaths and the flight of survivors, it did. The RCMP had never been able to make any kind of case for this, because the Mounties best placed to investigate tended to die before coming to any useful conclusions; Fraser is now in a position to pass along tips in a strictly informal basis. Meanwhile, Ray's brother (the number one reason "Kowalski" is not a part of Bryan's surname) is attempting to get custody of a nephew he refused to have contact with while his fathers lived, and various people are attempting to relieve Bryan of the really rather large proportion of the North he owns (due to the number of people who sold or willed their land to one or both of his fathers or to Maggie during the plague; plus due to his birth mother, Rose, being of the First Nations, he is too, and has some rights of control over First Nations land as one of very few living members left). Stella handles these threats in fine lawyerly fashion while Ray works with Fraser and Kowalski to try to chase down the perpetrators of mass murder in the North; eventually these projects converge, since of course the motive for the murder was a land grab, making Bryan a target now through legal means or other ones. Our Heroes prevail, and Ray and Stella learn how fighting crime together can invigorate a partnership.
So, anticlimax: Ray and Stella, with Ray and Fraser's permission and Bryan's consent, make arrangements to formally adopt Bryan. Ray and Fraser don't actually move on, but they head out into their transitional Canadian afterlife to do some work (the place is unusually crowded these days, too many murdered ghosts with too much to settle) with the assurance that all Bryan has to do is come into the closet and pick up a phone, and they'll head back. And everyone lives... well, life goes on. Such as it is.
***
The night before their court date, Bryan had a dream of being taken away. Bad people in ugly dark uniforms - American people, mean people - grabbed him from Ray and Stella's house and dragged him away, their hands pinning his arms as he tried to fight and covering his mouth as he tried to scream.
He woke up and sat still in his bed, gasping for breath, the nightmare images only slowly fading. He looked at the closet door and thought about calling out, or going over there--Dad and Pop had said he could, any time.
But it hadn't been the dream about Dad and Pop and everyone else in the world being gone. This was a new nightmare. He felt a little guilty as he slipped quietly out of bed, but he went to the hallway door and peeked out. There were no bad guys lurking in the shadows, so he ran quickly across to Ray and Stella's room and then hesitated, listening. It was late, though, and they were sleeping, like he'd been a minute ago. Like Dad and Pop had almost always been, when he went to climb into their bed.
He crept over to the bed. Stella was closer, and he reached out and touched her shoulder, shaking her cautiously. "Stella? Stella?"
She blinked at him, pushing up onto one elbow as she woke. "Hey, sweetheart. What's wrong?"
He bit his lip. Dad and Pop had never asked him that. They'd always known why he was standing next to their bed in the middle of the night.
Stella smiled. "Can't sleep?"
Bryan nodded, relieved. Stella sat up further and pushed the blanket back, opening her arms, and Bryan scrambled up into her lap. She held him there for a minute, and Bryan rested his head on her shoulder.
He'd never had a mom before, not a real mom, not one he lived with all the time. Being hugged by Stella was different from being hugged by his dad or Pop or Ray, softer and sort of flower-smelling. Stella's hair brushed against his face, and her cheek was smooth instead of scratchy when she leaned it against his forehead. She squeezed him tight and then turned, laying him down in the middle of the bed, between her and Ray, who was still sleeping. She scooted her pillow over so they could share it and laid back down, and Bryan smiled at her, and then Ray started snoring.
Stella rolled her eyes and whispered, "Smack him for me, okay?"
Bryan didn't think she really meant that, though, so he just reached over and shook Ray's shoulder. Ray's snore cut off in mid-breath and he woke up, blinking at Bryan but smiling too. "Hey, tiger," he said, and his voice was sort of gravelly just like Dad's used to be when he first woke up. "Bunking in with us tonight?"
Bryan nodded shyly, but Ray just reached over and messed his hair, though it was probably already all standing up anyway.
"Well," Ray said, "let me just warn you, Stella snores like a freight train."
Stella said, "I do *not* - Bryan, tell him who was snoring just now."
Bryan scooted back toward Stella and she tucked her arm around him. "You were," he told Ray. "When I came in you were both sleeping and Stella wasn't snoring, but you were."
"Ha," Stella said, "see? We should have had a kid years ago. Pony up."
Ray was frowning, and Bryan bit his lip. "Well, my dad told me--" He stopped then, because... Ray was going to be his dad now, and they'd never decided if he'd call him something else different and...
"Yeah, Bry," Ray said quietly, "what did Benny tell you?"
Bryan smiled, glad Ray understood. "He told me, negative evidence isn't proof."
"Ha-*ha*," Ray said, and Stella just rolled her eyes. Ray scooted over so he could put his arm around Bryan without making Stella let go, and hugged him closer. "That's my little Fraser boy. Negative evidence isn't proof, Stella. Just because you weren't snoring like a freight train tonight doesn't mean you *don't*."
"Well," said Stella, "it certainly proves--"
Bryan closed his eyes as they went on arguing over his head, cuddled so close around him that they all could have shared a single pillow. It wasn't like being home again, like before, but he thought it might be close enough.
He laughed then, and Stella's hand ran over his hair--trying to squish it down, but he knew it was popping right back into spikes as soon as she let it go--"Would you care to share the joke with the class, Mr. Fraser?"
Bryan opened his eyes and looked from Ray to Stella, both of them watching him curiously. "Lots of kids in my class have four parents," he explained. "But *nobody* else has *six*."
It never did have a title so much as a string of warnings:
Death-Het-Kidfic (And I mean it, about the Death part. A lot. Okay?)
My name is Fraser. Bryan Joseph Kowalski Fraser. Don't call me BJ and don't combine my third name with my fourth. My name is Fraser, and I know where I come from and who I am.
My dad was glad they called it Eskimo's Revenge. 'There are no people for whom Eskimo is the correct name,' he said, 'so they can have their Revenge and their forty-three words for snow, and ignorant people aren't dragging the name of the Inuit through the mud.' My pop said it was a pretty dumb name for a plague any way you sliced it, and my dad didn't contradict him.
I was born in Tuktoyaktuk, from the body of a woman named Rose Makkik, though she was not my mother: that was Maggie Mackenzie, my dad's half-sister, and my pop's my biological father. My godmother Rose, my Aunt Maggie, my dad, my pop. I had more parents than some of our neighbors had toes.
There were five major outbreaks of the disease they called Eskimo's Revenge, the Iglulik virus. The first four came in summertime. My godmother died in the second, and Aunt Maggie in the fourth. My dad was quarantined during the third, caught in an outbreak zone while he was on patrol. My pop and I talked to him on the phone every day, waiting for him to come home, praying him safe at bedtimes and mealtimes and every time in between.
The fifth outbreak came in the winter, when everybody was huddled together against the long nights and harsh storms. My dad got sick first, and then my pop. My mothers died under endless suns, but my fathers died in the dark.
Dad and Pop were among the last to die. By then there were too many orphans for anyone to keep track of, so I spent most of my time in the crowded hospice where they shared a bed. I sat perched between them through those last dark days, holding Dad's hand and listening to Pop talk.
He told me to remember who I was and where I came from. The beauty and the wonder of the Territories and Yukon, the land that made my dad, the land my pop chose, the land they stuck with for better or worse, in sickness and health, the land where I'd been born and where my ancestors were buried.
Then he told me they were sending me to Chicago, to live with Ray and Stella.
***
Then there was this whole middle part: Bryan went to Chicago and Ray met him at the airport without Stella, who was perhaps understandably less than excited about adopting her ex-husband's child into the middle of her own second and still childless and not precisely harmonious marriage. Ray and Stella had been together at this point for about ten years, and things were getting rocky, probably not for the first time.
So Bryan is dropped into this rather tense household, with Stella and Ray both making a game effort for their orphan ward but, you know, not holding a candle to Bryan's dad and pop, and you are starting to wonder why the fuck you are reading this.
And then Ray and Fraser come around in a snowy wilderness. They spend a little time celebrating the fact that they are here and together, and then Fraser says he's pretty sure he knows what's going on, and finds his way to a door, which lets them into Bryan's bedroom closet.
Hijinks ensue. Bryan is of course thrilled to see his parents again; it turns out that Vecchio can see Fraser and Stella can see RayK, but not the other way around, leading to a great deal of wackiness in conversations.
And then they fight crime: it turns out that the plague was manufactured to decimate the population of northern Canada, which, between the actual deaths and the flight of survivors, it did. The RCMP had never been able to make any kind of case for this, because the Mounties best placed to investigate tended to die before coming to any useful conclusions; Fraser is now in a position to pass along tips in a strictly informal basis. Meanwhile, Ray's brother (the number one reason "Kowalski" is not a part of Bryan's surname) is attempting to get custody of a nephew he refused to have contact with while his fathers lived, and various people are attempting to relieve Bryan of the really rather large proportion of the North he owns (due to the number of people who sold or willed their land to one or both of his fathers or to Maggie during the plague; plus due to his birth mother, Rose, being of the First Nations, he is too, and has some rights of control over First Nations land as one of very few living members left). Stella handles these threats in fine lawyerly fashion while Ray works with Fraser and Kowalski to try to chase down the perpetrators of mass murder in the North; eventually these projects converge, since of course the motive for the murder was a land grab, making Bryan a target now through legal means or other ones. Our Heroes prevail, and Ray and Stella learn how fighting crime together can invigorate a partnership.
So, anticlimax: Ray and Stella, with Ray and Fraser's permission and Bryan's consent, make arrangements to formally adopt Bryan. Ray and Fraser don't actually move on, but they head out into their transitional Canadian afterlife to do some work (the place is unusually crowded these days, too many murdered ghosts with too much to settle) with the assurance that all Bryan has to do is come into the closet and pick up a phone, and they'll head back. And everyone lives... well, life goes on. Such as it is.
***
The night before their court date, Bryan had a dream of being taken away. Bad people in ugly dark uniforms - American people, mean people - grabbed him from Ray and Stella's house and dragged him away, their hands pinning his arms as he tried to fight and covering his mouth as he tried to scream.
He woke up and sat still in his bed, gasping for breath, the nightmare images only slowly fading. He looked at the closet door and thought about calling out, or going over there--Dad and Pop had said he could, any time.
But it hadn't been the dream about Dad and Pop and everyone else in the world being gone. This was a new nightmare. He felt a little guilty as he slipped quietly out of bed, but he went to the hallway door and peeked out. There were no bad guys lurking in the shadows, so he ran quickly across to Ray and Stella's room and then hesitated, listening. It was late, though, and they were sleeping, like he'd been a minute ago. Like Dad and Pop had almost always been, when he went to climb into their bed.
He crept over to the bed. Stella was closer, and he reached out and touched her shoulder, shaking her cautiously. "Stella? Stella?"
She blinked at him, pushing up onto one elbow as she woke. "Hey, sweetheart. What's wrong?"
He bit his lip. Dad and Pop had never asked him that. They'd always known why he was standing next to their bed in the middle of the night.
Stella smiled. "Can't sleep?"
Bryan nodded, relieved. Stella sat up further and pushed the blanket back, opening her arms, and Bryan scrambled up into her lap. She held him there for a minute, and Bryan rested his head on her shoulder.
He'd never had a mom before, not a real mom, not one he lived with all the time. Being hugged by Stella was different from being hugged by his dad or Pop or Ray, softer and sort of flower-smelling. Stella's hair brushed against his face, and her cheek was smooth instead of scratchy when she leaned it against his forehead. She squeezed him tight and then turned, laying him down in the middle of the bed, between her and Ray, who was still sleeping. She scooted her pillow over so they could share it and laid back down, and Bryan smiled at her, and then Ray started snoring.
Stella rolled her eyes and whispered, "Smack him for me, okay?"
Bryan didn't think she really meant that, though, so he just reached over and shook Ray's shoulder. Ray's snore cut off in mid-breath and he woke up, blinking at Bryan but smiling too. "Hey, tiger," he said, and his voice was sort of gravelly just like Dad's used to be when he first woke up. "Bunking in with us tonight?"
Bryan nodded shyly, but Ray just reached over and messed his hair, though it was probably already all standing up anyway.
"Well," Ray said, "let me just warn you, Stella snores like a freight train."
Stella said, "I do *not* - Bryan, tell him who was snoring just now."
Bryan scooted back toward Stella and she tucked her arm around him. "You were," he told Ray. "When I came in you were both sleeping and Stella wasn't snoring, but you were."
"Ha," Stella said, "see? We should have had a kid years ago. Pony up."
Ray was frowning, and Bryan bit his lip. "Well, my dad told me--" He stopped then, because... Ray was going to be his dad now, and they'd never decided if he'd call him something else different and...
"Yeah, Bry," Ray said quietly, "what did Benny tell you?"
Bryan smiled, glad Ray understood. "He told me, negative evidence isn't proof."
"Ha-*ha*," Ray said, and Stella just rolled her eyes. Ray scooted over so he could put his arm around Bryan without making Stella let go, and hugged him closer. "That's my little Fraser boy. Negative evidence isn't proof, Stella. Just because you weren't snoring like a freight train tonight doesn't mean you *don't*."
"Well," said Stella, "it certainly proves--"
Bryan closed his eyes as they went on arguing over his head, cuddled so close around him that they all could have shared a single pillow. It wasn't like being home again, like before, but he thought it might be close enough.
He laughed then, and Stella's hand ran over his hair--trying to squish it down, but he knew it was popping right back into spikes as soon as she let it go--"Would you care to share the joke with the class, Mr. Fraser?"
Bryan opened his eyes and looked from Ray to Stella, both of them watching him curiously. "Lots of kids in my class have four parents," he explained. "But *nobody* else has *six*."