Paint Challenge by strangecobwebs
Feb. 12th, 2006 01:55 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
strangecobwebs.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionSo, um, I'm completely new to due South. And writing. And this definitely wasn't betaed. So I'd really, really welcome feedback. That way I'll know if I should never do this again. :) Thanks!
Title: Black, Red
Pairing: RayK/Fraser
Rating: G
Length: 1100-ish words
I think Chicago turned black the day Stella gave me the divorce papers. I guess it had started fading a while before that, but it had been so gradual that I didn’t notice. It was kinda like how in the fall, the days start getting shorter, and it gets darker earlier, but you don’t really see it. Just, one day you look at the clock, and just think, "Shit. It’s only five o’clock. And it’s pitch dark out."
I walked into the lawyer’s office on a bright, sunny afternoon. At least, that’s what the weatherman had said, and people around me where wearing shorts and sunglasses. I left at two, after I signed the papers that left me on my own for the first time since… well, the first time in my life really. (And that was a damn depressing realization.) But I just walked outside and it was dark. No one else seemed to notice it, but I did. It was like that Stones song, “Paint It, Black”: “I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky. I wanna see it painted, painted, painted black.” You got your wish, Mick.
Chicago became black. The sun was still out, and the warmth hadn’t completely faded yet. But it was dark. Really dark.
When I took the job as Vecchio, I was hoping it might change a bit. The black was starting to get to me. Really, really get to me. Get to me like I wanted to not bother with the vest sometimes.
I think my lieutenant was noticing. So he asked me first if I wanted the Vecchio job. I don’t know if I was really his first choice or not, but he’s a good guy. I think he knew better than I did that I needed a change. He and Welsh were buddies, so when Welsh said he needed someone to be Vecchio, the lieu suggested me.
Seemed like a better idea than heading out to a drug bust after “forgetting” to put a vest on and then
hoping for the worst. So I said yes.
I guess it was a good idea, because if the world didn’t get any brighter, it didn’t get any darker either.
Fraser and I had been working together for almost a year before I really noticed the paintbrush. It was just a little one, like one of Stella’s eye makeup brushes. Fraser had been painting things red.
He’d always been red. I saw that the first day I met him. I turned around when I heard my name in the bullpen, and there was just red Fraser. But at some point, without my noticing, he began making other things red. Like, it must have been only a few days after he was around, Dief turned red too. And eventually, Fraser painted that chair that he always sat in by my desk.
After I noticed the paintbrush Fraser had, it slowly got bigger. The part of the couch that he always sat in when he came to my place became red. Then the whole couch. The consulate. The diner that we went to all the time. My entire desk at the precinct. The breakroom there. The goat.
This was all happening slow enough that it’d be a while before I noticed. Kinda like that whole turning-dark thing in the fall again. Or maybe like getting lighter in the spring. I don’t know. But I’d see something that used to be dark a long time ago, and now it’s red, and I can’t remember if it just did that, or if it’s been red for a while and I just didn’t notice.
By the time Vecchio came back, I’d gotten used to everything being red. And that, of course, is when the red started to darken.
It wasn’t too dark yet. But the threat was there. And this time I saw it. If I couldn’t figure out how to stop it, I knew that it would be even darker than the after-Stella black.
Before I knew it, we were sitting around the fire in Canada again. It was the night after we got Muldoon. I was supposed to go back to Chicago the next day. Fraser was going to head up to his dad’s cabin for a little while, and then he could pretty much pick where he wanted to go.
I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want him to go. I just wanted to keep the red. I knew, as sure as I knew that I was in love with Fraser, that if I went back to Chicago without him, if I went anywhere without him, the black would be endless and darker and deeper than the Stella-black. And it would never, ever be lighter than gray.
Fraser and I were the only two left. Everyone else had gone home or to bed. He got up to throw another log on the fire, then sat down next to me.
“Fraser, I wanna keep the red,” I blurted out.
“Pardon?”
“I wanna keep the red. You made everything red. I can’t go back to black, Frase, I can’t. I won’t be able to take it.” I knew he had no idea what I was saying, but I couldn’t stop. “It was so bad before, the black, after the divorce, and then you came, and you painted everything red. And I love you, and I love the red, and I want to keep it. And- and I can’t go back, Frase. I can’t. Not without you.” I stopped when Fraser’s bare hand came up to dry the tear that I didn’t know had fallen.
“Ray, did you mean that? That you love me?” I couldn’t do anything but nod. “Ray…” he started again. But this didn’t sound so good. “Ray, I love you too. But I can’t go back to Chicago. Not right now. Maybe not ever.”
And now he looked like he might cry.
I nodded again, and turned to face the fire again. I hugged myself as the chill began to really set in. “You know, Frase, I don’t really have anything in Chicago anymore. It’s black. There’s nothing there anymore.”
More silence. Then, “Would you stay here then? With me?”
I turned and looked at him, into his eyes. And realized that they were blue. And then I looked at the snow. It was white. The logs in the fire were brown and black. The fire itself was red and orange and an occasional small blue flame at the bottom. The trees, under the snow, were green and brown. The tent that we were going to sleep in was an ugly brown. Fraser’s scarf was plaid, blue and green.
I smiled. He smiled back, with white teeth and pink lips.
“so before i let you go
there's one thing you should know about my love
i look around and everything's red
i'm up-side-down and everything's red
one look at you and all i see is red”
-Ike, “Red”
Title: Black, Red
Pairing: RayK/Fraser
Rating: G
Length: 1100-ish words
I think Chicago turned black the day Stella gave me the divorce papers. I guess it had started fading a while before that, but it had been so gradual that I didn’t notice. It was kinda like how in the fall, the days start getting shorter, and it gets darker earlier, but you don’t really see it. Just, one day you look at the clock, and just think, "Shit. It’s only five o’clock. And it’s pitch dark out."
I walked into the lawyer’s office on a bright, sunny afternoon. At least, that’s what the weatherman had said, and people around me where wearing shorts and sunglasses. I left at two, after I signed the papers that left me on my own for the first time since… well, the first time in my life really. (And that was a damn depressing realization.) But I just walked outside and it was dark. No one else seemed to notice it, but I did. It was like that Stones song, “Paint It, Black”: “I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky. I wanna see it painted, painted, painted black.” You got your wish, Mick.
Chicago became black. The sun was still out, and the warmth hadn’t completely faded yet. But it was dark. Really dark.
When I took the job as Vecchio, I was hoping it might change a bit. The black was starting to get to me. Really, really get to me. Get to me like I wanted to not bother with the vest sometimes.
I think my lieutenant was noticing. So he asked me first if I wanted the Vecchio job. I don’t know if I was really his first choice or not, but he’s a good guy. I think he knew better than I did that I needed a change. He and Welsh were buddies, so when Welsh said he needed someone to be Vecchio, the lieu suggested me.
Seemed like a better idea than heading out to a drug bust after “forgetting” to put a vest on and then
hoping for the worst. So I said yes.
I guess it was a good idea, because if the world didn’t get any brighter, it didn’t get any darker either.
Fraser and I had been working together for almost a year before I really noticed the paintbrush. It was just a little one, like one of Stella’s eye makeup brushes. Fraser had been painting things red.
He’d always been red. I saw that the first day I met him. I turned around when I heard my name in the bullpen, and there was just red Fraser. But at some point, without my noticing, he began making other things red. Like, it must have been only a few days after he was around, Dief turned red too. And eventually, Fraser painted that chair that he always sat in by my desk.
After I noticed the paintbrush Fraser had, it slowly got bigger. The part of the couch that he always sat in when he came to my place became red. Then the whole couch. The consulate. The diner that we went to all the time. My entire desk at the precinct. The breakroom there. The goat.
This was all happening slow enough that it’d be a while before I noticed. Kinda like that whole turning-dark thing in the fall again. Or maybe like getting lighter in the spring. I don’t know. But I’d see something that used to be dark a long time ago, and now it’s red, and I can’t remember if it just did that, or if it’s been red for a while and I just didn’t notice.
By the time Vecchio came back, I’d gotten used to everything being red. And that, of course, is when the red started to darken.
It wasn’t too dark yet. But the threat was there. And this time I saw it. If I couldn’t figure out how to stop it, I knew that it would be even darker than the after-Stella black.
Before I knew it, we were sitting around the fire in Canada again. It was the night after we got Muldoon. I was supposed to go back to Chicago the next day. Fraser was going to head up to his dad’s cabin for a little while, and then he could pretty much pick where he wanted to go.
I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want him to go. I just wanted to keep the red. I knew, as sure as I knew that I was in love with Fraser, that if I went back to Chicago without him, if I went anywhere without him, the black would be endless and darker and deeper than the Stella-black. And it would never, ever be lighter than gray.
Fraser and I were the only two left. Everyone else had gone home or to bed. He got up to throw another log on the fire, then sat down next to me.
“Fraser, I wanna keep the red,” I blurted out.
“Pardon?”
“I wanna keep the red. You made everything red. I can’t go back to black, Frase, I can’t. I won’t be able to take it.” I knew he had no idea what I was saying, but I couldn’t stop. “It was so bad before, the black, after the divorce, and then you came, and you painted everything red. And I love you, and I love the red, and I want to keep it. And- and I can’t go back, Frase. I can’t. Not without you.” I stopped when Fraser’s bare hand came up to dry the tear that I didn’t know had fallen.
“Ray, did you mean that? That you love me?” I couldn’t do anything but nod. “Ray…” he started again. But this didn’t sound so good. “Ray, I love you too. But I can’t go back to Chicago. Not right now. Maybe not ever.”
And now he looked like he might cry.
I nodded again, and turned to face the fire again. I hugged myself as the chill began to really set in. “You know, Frase, I don’t really have anything in Chicago anymore. It’s black. There’s nothing there anymore.”
More silence. Then, “Would you stay here then? With me?”
I turned and looked at him, into his eyes. And realized that they were blue. And then I looked at the snow. It was white. The logs in the fire were brown and black. The fire itself was red and orange and an occasional small blue flame at the bottom. The trees, under the snow, were green and brown. The tent that we were going to sleep in was an ugly brown. Fraser’s scarf was plaid, blue and green.
I smiled. He smiled back, with white teeth and pink lips.
“so before i let you go
there's one thing you should know about my love
i look around and everything's red
i'm up-side-down and everything's red
one look at you and all i see is red”
-Ike, “Red”
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no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 07:31 am (UTC)I think you should definitely keep on doing this. ;)
no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 03:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 03:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 11:26 am (UTC)I can understand Eledthweblin's reserve about the near-end of the story (not about the end-end. That, to me, is brilliant). I'm a little put off (only a little) about Fraser's initial reaction to Ray's declaration of love - and Ray's subsequent reply. It does seem a bit rushed.
As I said before: the overall story is great. Would you please consider migrating to Due South fandom?
no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 03:40 pm (UTC)Thank you! I wasn't quite sure how to end it. Finally I just realized I'd fuck it up if I kept trying, so I made myself stop. So I'm really glad it worked for you!
no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 11:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 03:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 02:20 pm (UTC)I agree with the other commenters that the conversation between Ray and Fraser seemed rushed--or, at least, that there was a lot more to mine out of it than you gave us.
I'm *quite* new to due South fandom myself, so I'm in no position to be welcoming anyone (like guests having guests or something), but I'm very glad you'll be writing here and I look forward to seeing more.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 03:55 pm (UTC)there was a lot more to mine out of it than you gave us.
Yeah, it was late... Like I admitted to
Thanks again! And yay for not being the only new girl in town! :)
no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 04:05 pm (UTC)I tend to have the opposite problem, I twitter and fuss with things until I can't imagine why I ever thought the story was a good idea. So I don't get things posted because I'm fussing over them too much. Sigh. :)
It's good to have another newbie around!
no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 03:08 pm (UTC)The ending was perfection with Ray seeing the real colors finally.
As for the other comments on the conversation feeling rushed, maybe. It wasn't so that it made me dislike the story. But perhaps a little polishing would have made it even better than the good stuff it was.
I suck at concrit, but I just wnated you to know that you should keep writing, you have the talent for sure!
no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 04:02 pm (UTC)Yay! Depression can be really hard to describe sometimes, so I'm glad it worked here. The song "Paint It, Black" actually helped me a lot. And the whole thing was inspired by the song "Red" by a fabulous local Philadelphia band, Ike.
I definitely plan on finding betas in the future, so hopefully stuff like the rushed conversation will disappear. :)
Thank you! I'm so glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 07:05 pm (UTC)I hope I can come up with something! *g*
no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 08:24 am (UTC)I think this would be really lovely if the whole thing were expanded; on the one hand, I like the way you've so briefly and starkly described some of Ray's life-changing moments--he walks into the lawyer's office, he walks out, everything's changed--but at the same time I think you could maybe alternate those brief descriptions with a few more detailed sections of action/dialogue (for instance, as others have pointed out, the ending). That way you sort of get, hm, more substance to the story to balance out the extended metaphor. (If that makes ANY sense--forgive me, it's late and I should be in bed.)
Also, I'm leery of seemingly spontaneous declarations of love (I can believe that Ray might burst out with "I love you," but I'd need quite a bit more drawn-out tension to convince me; and Fraser's reaction is another matter altogether); but, I have to say, I love this bit:
"I wanna keep the red. You made everything red. I can't go back to black, Frase, I can't. I won't be able to take it."
--because that's just so Ray, blurting out something that makes sense in his head (because he's been mulling it over and over) but which seems like a complete non-sequitur to anyone else. I can totally hear him saying it in my head. <3
That way I'll know if I should never do this again. :)
You should absolutely do this again! But only because you want to--not because I say so. ;)
no subject
Date: 2006-02-14 06:30 pm (UTC)I think I get what you mean. Like having dialogue and actions to kind of be evidence of the metaphor. I think that's a really good point. Something for me to ponder. :) (Why do I have the feeling I'm going to have about 12 versions of this story floating around?) As for having more tension and everything at the end, I think I had it all in my head and I didn't translate it very well at all. Oh well. That can be for version #38.
I'm glad you think so because I can't seem to stop! It's a little addicting.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-15 05:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-15 06:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-17 06:56 pm (UTC)Ending of the story
Date: 2006-02-26 07:38 pm (UTC)I think the image of the sudden expansion of his color palette when happiness returns to his life is as perfect as the image of the sudden loss of color when Stella divirced him. Only one end of the spectrum returned with Fraser's partnership and friendship; Ray's world wasn't whole but it was healing. Ray didn't know he needed or could have more until he blurted it out by the campfire and Fraser gave all he had. Fraser's sharing of his feeling with Ray brought the rest of Ray's spectrum back; the possibility of their future expanded to fill Ray's spectrum and his world.
This story's imagery is brilliant.
Diane
Re: Ending of the story
Date: 2006-02-26 10:07 pm (UTC)