WiP: DS/TS crossover snippet
Mar. 3rd, 2005 05:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Hey, MOrgan? Does this work better?
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Ray was going insane.
They had come back to Fraser's cabin, two weeks ago partly to discuss what happened next, partly to have a reprieve from the past couple of months of seeing nothing other than snow, each other, snow, the dogs, snow, the tent, snow and the local wildlife.
Then Fraser had been called to the nearest town for a few days for Mountie stuff. Paperwork and boring stuff. Since Ray intended to do nothing but sleep for the next couple of days, he'd sent Fraser and Dief off with his blessings and looking forward to a couple of days of down time. A couple of days to sleep, stretch out without hitting anything, not worry so much about how many layers he was wearing, tripping over each other and generally be slothful sounded heavenly.
So Fraser had left, leaving him with the sled dogs both for company and to take care of as he and Dief went to town on a snowmobile that had been hidden in the dog shed. A couple of days later, Fraser had called to say that it was going to be a few days longer. That had been a week ago, when a storm had blown in and he'd informed Fraser that he was fine and if showed up before it was safe to travel, he'd kick him in the head. With snowshoes. Fraser was a good guy and all, but sometimes he needed to be reminded that he wasn't Super Mountie. And that dead was dead, no matter how good you were.
But still, he missed Fraser. He'd thought that being willingly thrust into the vast stark coldness of the Northern Wilderness had been a shock, especially after having spent all his life in Chicago with the noise and the bustle that accompanied city life. But the silence and solitude of the empty cabin was even worse than that. Far worse.
Thank goodness for the dogs, even if all he could was stagger out there and feed them once a day. It gave him something to do to break the monotony and silence of the cabin. Even music and dancing couldn't touch the solitude out here.
But hey, he'd thought that was fine. Fraser had called yesterday to say he'd be back. He'd gone out, fed the dogs and started to come back inside, keeping his ears out for Fraser, because that would be the first sign he was back. Sled dogs were not the most stealthy of animals, especially when it came to anything that was even remotely interesting.
Only, he hadn't heard Fraser.
He'd heard the buzz of a snowmobile, the rustle of wind against trees, the hiss of falling snowflakes landing on the snow, people talking on the radio, and the buzz of what sounded like town.
He'd been recovering from that when the sunlight reflecting off the snow and ice nearly blinded him. He'd staggered into the house, closing the door behind him. The dim light of the cabin had helped for a moment or two, before the smell of -wood- assaulted him. Wood, polish, leather, wool, the tang of warm metal and what he thought kinda smelled like rodent. It wasn't just smell, it was like he could taste it on the air as well. Distracting him from that was the fact that his clothing began to itch.
Not just itch. It was like being wrapped up in a clingy cactus with barbs piercing his flesh everywhere. With a muffled yell, he's scrabbled out of his parka and boots as fast as he could, leaving them scattered on the floor without a second thought other than to have them -gone- and off him.
That didn't stop the assault on his other senses however. Everything was just Too. Fucking. Much.
He sought sanctuary in the nice soothing muffling darkness in a corner of Fraser's wardrobe. It stunk of wool, leather, mothballs and neat foot oil, but it kept everything else out.
He just had to wait for Fraser. He had to keep it together for Fraser. Fraser was coming. Fraser would know what to do.
+tbc+.
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Ray was going insane.
They had come back to Fraser's cabin, two weeks ago partly to discuss what happened next, partly to have a reprieve from the past couple of months of seeing nothing other than snow, each other, snow, the dogs, snow, the tent, snow and the local wildlife.
Then Fraser had been called to the nearest town for a few days for Mountie stuff. Paperwork and boring stuff. Since Ray intended to do nothing but sleep for the next couple of days, he'd sent Fraser and Dief off with his blessings and looking forward to a couple of days of down time. A couple of days to sleep, stretch out without hitting anything, not worry so much about how many layers he was wearing, tripping over each other and generally be slothful sounded heavenly.
So Fraser had left, leaving him with the sled dogs both for company and to take care of as he and Dief went to town on a snowmobile that had been hidden in the dog shed. A couple of days later, Fraser had called to say that it was going to be a few days longer. That had been a week ago, when a storm had blown in and he'd informed Fraser that he was fine and if showed up before it was safe to travel, he'd kick him in the head. With snowshoes. Fraser was a good guy and all, but sometimes he needed to be reminded that he wasn't Super Mountie. And that dead was dead, no matter how good you were.
But still, he missed Fraser. He'd thought that being willingly thrust into the vast stark coldness of the Northern Wilderness had been a shock, especially after having spent all his life in Chicago with the noise and the bustle that accompanied city life. But the silence and solitude of the empty cabin was even worse than that. Far worse.
Thank goodness for the dogs, even if all he could was stagger out there and feed them once a day. It gave him something to do to break the monotony and silence of the cabin. Even music and dancing couldn't touch the solitude out here.
But hey, he'd thought that was fine. Fraser had called yesterday to say he'd be back. He'd gone out, fed the dogs and started to come back inside, keeping his ears out for Fraser, because that would be the first sign he was back. Sled dogs were not the most stealthy of animals, especially when it came to anything that was even remotely interesting.
Only, he hadn't heard Fraser.
He'd heard the buzz of a snowmobile, the rustle of wind against trees, the hiss of falling snowflakes landing on the snow, people talking on the radio, and the buzz of what sounded like town.
He'd been recovering from that when the sunlight reflecting off the snow and ice nearly blinded him. He'd staggered into the house, closing the door behind him. The dim light of the cabin had helped for a moment or two, before the smell of -wood- assaulted him. Wood, polish, leather, wool, the tang of warm metal and what he thought kinda smelled like rodent. It wasn't just smell, it was like he could taste it on the air as well. Distracting him from that was the fact that his clothing began to itch.
Not just itch. It was like being wrapped up in a clingy cactus with barbs piercing his flesh everywhere. With a muffled yell, he's scrabbled out of his parka and boots as fast as he could, leaving them scattered on the floor without a second thought other than to have them -gone- and off him.
That didn't stop the assault on his other senses however. Everything was just Too. Fucking. Much.
He sought sanctuary in the nice soothing muffling darkness in a corner of Fraser's wardrobe. It stunk of wool, leather, mothballs and neat foot oil, but it kept everything else out.
He just had to wait for Fraser. He had to keep it together for Fraser. Fraser was coming. Fraser would know what to do.
+tbc+.