Fic: Three States Part I (Cowritten with slwatson, Due South, Turnbull/Vecchio, PG-13)
Three States
Fandom: Due South
Characters: Turnbull/Vecchio (pre-slash)
Rating: PG-13
Complete in 23322 Words Total (All parts)
Summary: Ray takes a hit to the vest. The result? Three states, three days, and two men in the best sort of trouble.
Notes: Post-COTW stand-alone story; takes place in this fic-verse. Co-written with slwatson. Please allow me to assure you that all the good bits are hers.
Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V
Ray Vecchio was in trouble. He just didn't know it yet.
It was hot and the smell of garbage threatened to make him gag with every careful step. Inside of the apartment building, the lights were barely working and two out of three windows were blacked out. It felt like evening in the middle of the broad daylight; felt like drowning in heat and stench, until he was almost sure he was going to puke with every single breath in.
Ray kept his sidearm at low ready, edging towards the door. Two uniforms behind him, both of them seasoned and ready. They were looking to serve a warrant on a dealer who was using the apartment as an 'office'; looking to get him to see if he would roll on his supplier, who was a suspect in a murder case. The more evidence, the better.
It wasn't quite enough to warrant a SWAT team -- the dealer himself was relatively useless kinda scum, no record of violence, and so far as their casing had allowed, he was the only one who had come in or out of the building.
The door wasn't even closed. Ray kept his firearm down and swung a quick peek around the door.
Nothing.
He gestured back to the uniforms behind him that it was so-far-so-good.
And that was when all Hell broke loose.
There was a flash of movement at the other end of the hall before the shots rang out; he brought his gun up to bear -- "GUN!" -- when pain exploded in his ribcage - once-twice - he hit the ground - he heard the uniforms return fire - heard the shouts of 'Drop it!' - heard one call for backup and a squad - heard the other give chase - felt the chest-crushing ache from the impact to his vest - thought he saw a flash of Muldoon getting away - he couldn't breathe - heard someone telling him to hold still--
The rest was all a blur.
Part II
Fandom: Due South
Characters: Turnbull/Vecchio (pre-slash)
Rating: PG-13
Complete in 23322 Words Total (All parts)
Summary: Ray takes a hit to the vest. The result? Three states, three days, and two men in the best sort of trouble.
Notes: Post-COTW stand-alone story; takes place in this fic-verse. Co-written with slwatson. Please allow me to assure you that all the good bits are hers.
Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V
Ray Vecchio was in trouble. He just didn't know it yet.
It was hot and the smell of garbage threatened to make him gag with every careful step. Inside of the apartment building, the lights were barely working and two out of three windows were blacked out. It felt like evening in the middle of the broad daylight; felt like drowning in heat and stench, until he was almost sure he was going to puke with every single breath in.
Ray kept his sidearm at low ready, edging towards the door. Two uniforms behind him, both of them seasoned and ready. They were looking to serve a warrant on a dealer who was using the apartment as an 'office'; looking to get him to see if he would roll on his supplier, who was a suspect in a murder case. The more evidence, the better.
It wasn't quite enough to warrant a SWAT team -- the dealer himself was relatively useless kinda scum, no record of violence, and so far as their casing had allowed, he was the only one who had come in or out of the building.
The door wasn't even closed. Ray kept his firearm down and swung a quick peek around the door.
Nothing.
He gestured back to the uniforms behind him that it was so-far-so-good.
And that was when all Hell broke loose.
There was a flash of movement at the other end of the hall before the shots rang out; he brought his gun up to bear -- "GUN!" -- when pain exploded in his ribcage - once-twice - he hit the ground - he heard the uniforms return fire - heard the shouts of 'Drop it!' - heard one call for backup and a squad - heard the other give chase - felt the chest-crushing ache from the impact to his vest - thought he saw a flash of Muldoon getting away - he couldn't breathe - heard someone telling him to hold still--
The rest was all a blur.
Part II