Keys Challenge
Jan. 4th, 2004 11:10 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
theodosia.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionThis one started out when I had some insomnia and wrote about 700 words in the middle of the night -- a shade too late for the Keys Challenge. Threw them all out, tried a couple times since, and finally decided to make one last stab at getting this done.
My sincerest thanks to the glorious![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
heuradys who did some really helpful last minute beta!
Lock Pick
My first month as a rookie, Sergeant Hanley taught me how to pick locks. Lock picking wasn't a skill that I'd expected to have or need, but sometimes police work surprises you that way – I've heard the job described as "just like being in high school: you drive around town all night looking for trouble" and to a certain extent that's true… you have a lot in common with criminals.
I guess that's why those English Sheepdogs start looking like sheep… but never mind. Understanding criminal minds and methods is useful… during my undercover days I used that a whole lot. But there were better reasons to pick locks like the innocent citizens who'd locked themselves out. You'd come across a woman standing in the middle of a deserted parking lot next to her locked car, or a guy who'd run out the front door to catch an escaping toddler, letting the door accidentally shut behind him with a baby in the playpen – you just didn't want to drive off and leave them to cope, you know? I came to carry a jimmy bar in my prowler's glove compartment, and lock picks in my pocket, and damn if they didn't see regular use.
I always meant to learn handcuffs. A cop from the 35th used to win bar bets by escaping from handcuffs in under two minutes. (He'd up the stakes by letting the bettor search him first, and even knowing that he had lock picks on him somewhere, they rarely could turn them up.)
Anyway, it was always something that I was going to get around to, but since it was a party trick I didn't feel a lack.
That is, until a certain Mountie waltzed into my life, and suddenly things that never happened to me – cars set on fire, eclipses, hypnosis, getting abducted by crazy spies – started happening.
(Just for the record – I am the try anything once guy… but whatever kink that might have gotten excited by bondage? Kind of goes permanently away if you've ever been tied up by people who mean you no good. Takes the joy right out of it.)
Anyway, 'crazy things' is how I ended up handcuffed to a sternum – or something like that – inside a sinking ship. At first, I was only angry about the restraints, because I didn't know the ship was sinking. I could hear the ship's engines shut down, I could feel the ship shudder – found out later that the "pirates" had turned big guns on us – so I knew stuff was going on, but I didn't realize it was Big Trouble until Fraser showed up.
There's this thing about locks… they're almost as much a lock in your head as they are on your arm, door, jewelry box, safe. Because between being mad and frustrated – and when Fraser fills me in on the 911, mad, panicked, and frustrated – I'd completely blanked about my handcuff key.
Yes, that's right. I keep one on my favorite key ring, since I usually carry handcuffs. Except that I didn't know the pirates had taken my keys what with being knocked out, so I have Fraser searching my pockets… and no, it wasn't an excuse to get him to feel me up. They say there's nothing like danger to make you feel horny, but mostly danger scares the shit out of me.
Okay, so later on I thought about it, but at the time? My mind was running around in a wheel like a rabid hamster, what with the water rising right up to my nose.
And Fraser was as panicked as I've ever seen him. Usually he and Mr. Spock have a lot in common, know what I mean? I used to think he was shut down, but just like those Vulcans on Star Trek, he's really a Mountie volcano, barely keeping the cork on – hence the sudden leaps and wacko stratagems that like to give me a heart attack.
Me, with the water rising, I'm getting way past panicked and into this bizarrely calm zone – still caring, but accepting. Like I had already left my body down there in the cold lake water and was watching from the ceiling, wondering if my agnostic resolve was going to crumble and I'd end trying to say a Hail Mary while I choked, and trying to steel my nerve to tell Fraser to leave me, since he needed to get off the ship before it went to the bottom.
It was only the littlest thing that saved me – Fraser announced that he was going to try to pick the lock. Underwater. In dim lighting. With the water so high that I was standing on my tippy-toes and stretching my neck up to grab a breath. And I remember that cop who used to take bar bets, and I think Too bad I never learned to pick handcuff locks. And maybe it was just the association with him being a cop, but I add, If only they hadn't taken my gun, we'd be able to shoot the handcuffs off.
'Cause they had, and that's part of why I'd been spitting mad there… so mad that it never occurred to me to check if my holdout gun was still in my boot holster.
Yeah, you heard me. I had a gun the whole time. If I hadn't had been so mad, if I'd listened to the little Fraser on my shoulder who wanted me to calm down, I'd have remembered it earlier. I could have shot off the cuffs before the ship started to go down, I could have been up on deck, or gone on one of the life boats, and god knows how the pirate case would have all turned out.
But still… what I said about locks earlier? There's more than one way to open any lock. You have to start with the lock that's in your head.
Back when I was a cop, I'd get questions like “How can I keep my house safe?” People want reassurance that with the right locks, the right security equipment, cross all the I’s and dot the T’s, everything will be all right… but the truth is a lock is only a guideline. Somewhere out there is the Clever Joe who can beat your lock. You can be a homeless guy under an overpass, or a wealthy guy sitting in your mansion, but neither of you can absolutely guarantee your stuff is safe.
The thing about the handcuffs was, I always had the 'key' to them, even if I didn't know it. I didn't think outside the box – hell, I didn't think. Not my greatest hour there, but I like to think I learned some things that day.
Example? Well, there's the physical one… keeping a handcuff key on all my key rings. Seemed a safer bet than getting rid of them all – Fraser made some talk about 'redundancy' when he found out, but he didn't disapprove.
(Another irony? Mr. It Only Takes An Extra Second normally carries a handcuff key on his uniform… but this trip he wasn't wearing it. So even the Great Preparo was unprepared, which means I don't have to beat myself up too bad for not being up to snuff.)
But the moral of the story is this – sometimes the importance of a key is not the physical part, it’s the idea. You want to get something open bad enough, it doesn’t matter if you have an actual key… you’ll get it open somehow if you can stand back, remain calm, force yourself to think outside the box. That’s the real key, the idea that we have in our heads, not the one that we carry on our key chains.
My sincerest thanks to the glorious
heuradys who did some really helpful last minute beta!Lock Pick
My first month as a rookie, Sergeant Hanley taught me how to pick locks. Lock picking wasn't a skill that I'd expected to have or need, but sometimes police work surprises you that way – I've heard the job described as "just like being in high school: you drive around town all night looking for trouble" and to a certain extent that's true… you have a lot in common with criminals.
I guess that's why those English Sheepdogs start looking like sheep… but never mind. Understanding criminal minds and methods is useful… during my undercover days I used that a whole lot. But there were better reasons to pick locks like the innocent citizens who'd locked themselves out. You'd come across a woman standing in the middle of a deserted parking lot next to her locked car, or a guy who'd run out the front door to catch an escaping toddler, letting the door accidentally shut behind him with a baby in the playpen – you just didn't want to drive off and leave them to cope, you know? I came to carry a jimmy bar in my prowler's glove compartment, and lock picks in my pocket, and damn if they didn't see regular use.
I always meant to learn handcuffs. A cop from the 35th used to win bar bets by escaping from handcuffs in under two minutes. (He'd up the stakes by letting the bettor search him first, and even knowing that he had lock picks on him somewhere, they rarely could turn them up.)
Anyway, it was always something that I was going to get around to, but since it was a party trick I didn't feel a lack.
That is, until a certain Mountie waltzed into my life, and suddenly things that never happened to me – cars set on fire, eclipses, hypnosis, getting abducted by crazy spies – started happening.
(Just for the record – I am the try anything once guy… but whatever kink that might have gotten excited by bondage? Kind of goes permanently away if you've ever been tied up by people who mean you no good. Takes the joy right out of it.)
Anyway, 'crazy things' is how I ended up handcuffed to a sternum – or something like that – inside a sinking ship. At first, I was only angry about the restraints, because I didn't know the ship was sinking. I could hear the ship's engines shut down, I could feel the ship shudder – found out later that the "pirates" had turned big guns on us – so I knew stuff was going on, but I didn't realize it was Big Trouble until Fraser showed up.
There's this thing about locks… they're almost as much a lock in your head as they are on your arm, door, jewelry box, safe. Because between being mad and frustrated – and when Fraser fills me in on the 911, mad, panicked, and frustrated – I'd completely blanked about my handcuff key.
Yes, that's right. I keep one on my favorite key ring, since I usually carry handcuffs. Except that I didn't know the pirates had taken my keys what with being knocked out, so I have Fraser searching my pockets… and no, it wasn't an excuse to get him to feel me up. They say there's nothing like danger to make you feel horny, but mostly danger scares the shit out of me.
Okay, so later on I thought about it, but at the time? My mind was running around in a wheel like a rabid hamster, what with the water rising right up to my nose.
And Fraser was as panicked as I've ever seen him. Usually he and Mr. Spock have a lot in common, know what I mean? I used to think he was shut down, but just like those Vulcans on Star Trek, he's really a Mountie volcano, barely keeping the cork on – hence the sudden leaps and wacko stratagems that like to give me a heart attack.
Me, with the water rising, I'm getting way past panicked and into this bizarrely calm zone – still caring, but accepting. Like I had already left my body down there in the cold lake water and was watching from the ceiling, wondering if my agnostic resolve was going to crumble and I'd end trying to say a Hail Mary while I choked, and trying to steel my nerve to tell Fraser to leave me, since he needed to get off the ship before it went to the bottom.
It was only the littlest thing that saved me – Fraser announced that he was going to try to pick the lock. Underwater. In dim lighting. With the water so high that I was standing on my tippy-toes and stretching my neck up to grab a breath. And I remember that cop who used to take bar bets, and I think Too bad I never learned to pick handcuff locks. And maybe it was just the association with him being a cop, but I add, If only they hadn't taken my gun, we'd be able to shoot the handcuffs off.
'Cause they had, and that's part of why I'd been spitting mad there… so mad that it never occurred to me to check if my holdout gun was still in my boot holster.
Yeah, you heard me. I had a gun the whole time. If I hadn't had been so mad, if I'd listened to the little Fraser on my shoulder who wanted me to calm down, I'd have remembered it earlier. I could have shot off the cuffs before the ship started to go down, I could have been up on deck, or gone on one of the life boats, and god knows how the pirate case would have all turned out.
But still… what I said about locks earlier? There's more than one way to open any lock. You have to start with the lock that's in your head.
Back when I was a cop, I'd get questions like “How can I keep my house safe?” People want reassurance that with the right locks, the right security equipment, cross all the I’s and dot the T’s, everything will be all right… but the truth is a lock is only a guideline. Somewhere out there is the Clever Joe who can beat your lock. You can be a homeless guy under an overpass, or a wealthy guy sitting in your mansion, but neither of you can absolutely guarantee your stuff is safe.
The thing about the handcuffs was, I always had the 'key' to them, even if I didn't know it. I didn't think outside the box – hell, I didn't think. Not my greatest hour there, but I like to think I learned some things that day.
Example? Well, there's the physical one… keeping a handcuff key on all my key rings. Seemed a safer bet than getting rid of them all – Fraser made some talk about 'redundancy' when he found out, but he didn't disapprove.
(Another irony? Mr. It Only Takes An Extra Second normally carries a handcuff key on his uniform… but this trip he wasn't wearing it. So even the Great Preparo was unprepared, which means I don't have to beat myself up too bad for not being up to snuff.)
But the moral of the story is this – sometimes the importance of a key is not the physical part, it’s the idea. You want to get something open bad enough, it doesn’t matter if you have an actual key… you’ll get it open somehow if you can stand back, remain calm, force yourself to think outside the box. That’s the real key, the idea that we have in our heads, not the one that we carry on our key chains.
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no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 07:33 am (UTC)Oh, and made me laugh out loud!
no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 01:47 pm (UTC)I especially liked this bit...
(Another irony? Mr. It Only Takes An Extra Second normally carries a handcuff key on his uniform… but this trip he wasn't wearing it. So even the Great Preparo was unprepared, which means I don't have to beat myself up too bad for not being up to snuff.)
Because I've always wondered why Fraser just didn't whip out a key what with being perfect and all. :D
no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 02:04 pm (UTC)(Hope this posts -- WTF is up with LJ this morning?)
no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 02:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 02:58 pm (UTC)You can be a homeless guy under an overpass, or a wealthy guy sitting in your mansion, but neither of you can absolutely guarantee your stuff is safe.
Is oh, so true.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 03:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 05:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 09:34 pm (UTC)Very, very nice, very believable Ray voice.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-05 10:46 pm (UTC)*blinks*
*bursts out laughing*
Very good Rayism! *g*
And I loved this:
(Another irony? Mr. It Only Takes An Extra Second normally carries a handcuff key on his
uniform, but this trip he wasn't wearing it. So even the Great Preparo was unprepared, which
means I don't have to beat myself up too bad for not being up to snuff.)
The Great Preparo, huh? *G*
I think you really captured Ray--his philosophy and the way he expresses himself. Lovely response to the challenge.