ds_undercover

And the results are in!

2004-07-09T14:43:10Z

All of you who said the guessing was so hard?

Well, you were right. We have an absolute blow-out for the win, with the_star_fish, who got a whopping... 6 correct guesses!!! *rings bells and waves banners*

I want to give a huge thank you to all of you who did guess, it was a hard job, but somebody had to do it. Some random stats (completely unofficial, as they are simply trends that I noticed while tabulating the results) - people had a tendencey to confusion theodosia's writing style with that of heuradys, as well as pollitt's with tobyfan. Also, every single person who guessed correctly which two stories cesperanza had a hand in reversed the two.

And now for the moment you've all been waiting for, the authors revealed.

1 "Duress - A" by ardent_muses
2"The Price of Expedience" by kaneko and cesperanza
3 "Violets" by thehoyden
4 "If Wishes Were Horses" by sihayab
5 "Lost" by chickwriter
6 "The First Night" by butterfly
7 "Along the Way" by ekaterinn
8 "Untitled - A" by rhiko
9 "Cracked Wide Open" by pollitt
10 "No Mere Inspiration" by cesperanza
11 "The Contents of a Small Box Stored in a Large Trunk in a Yukon Cabin" by pearl_o
12 "Game Over" by Lynn lynnmonster
13 "Undercover" by misspamela
14 "Under Duress" by akite
15 "Duress - B" by theodosia
16 "Recovery Time" by sathinks
17 "An Unlikely Story" by bethbethbeth
18 "Fire and Ice" by tobyfan
19 "Late Night Admissions" by jade_starlight
20 "Ladies' Night" by heuradys
21 "Ve Haff Vays of Making You Talk" by lamardeuse
22 "Gamera" by sister_wolf
23 "Whack" by cmshaw
24 "Untitled - B" by the_star_fish
25 "Unspoken" by rowanfairchild
26 "Milk, No Sugar" by estrella30
27 "Surrender" by sam80853
28 "Forethought" by kassrachel
29 "Any Means Necessary" by suaine
30 "The Hard Way" by brooklinegirl
31 "Hearing is Believing" by chesamus
32 "Holding On" by jenboo

Thank you all so much for helping make this so much fun.

PLEASE READ THIS

2004-07-09T00:37:00Z

If you sent it guesses, please read this. I started tabulating scores, and have come to the realization that some things got filed where they should not have, and yahoo!mail has generally been unhappy with me. Therefore, please ensure that I've got your name listed below if you sent in guesses. I have guesses from:

akite
ardent_muses
brooklinegirl
cmshaw
estrella30
kassrachel
lamardeuse
lyra_sena
pearl_o
the_star_fish
tobyfan

If you've submitted guesses and your name is not on this list, please contact me at rami at leetergesen dot com or via IM (OORamiusOo on AIM) sometime tonight.

Thank you, and I now return you to your regularly scheduled friends list.

Pencils Down

2004-07-08T17:37:47Z

Ring the bells, pencils down, guessing time is over. Well, it was actually over an hour and a half ago, but I wasn't anywhere near a computer at that time, so now it is officially over! :-D I've received guesses from 9 different people. ~~And will be accepting bribes for late guesses until 6pm EST.~~ I know it was hard, and I want to thank everybody for participating. Authors will be revealed tomorrow morning, when the winner is announced.

1 Day Left

2004-07-07T20:38:01Z

To send in your guesses. All guesses should be sent to ds_undercover at yahoo dot com. I've only received guesses from three people so far and, while that makes my job quite easy, it makes the competition far less exciting!

Guesses are due by noon tomorrow, Thursday, July 8th, US Eastern. Happy guessing!

Guessing Reminder

2004-07-04T13:12:26Z

Just a reminder to those of you who wish to submit guesses - the deadline is this upcoming Thursday, July 8, at noon EST. I will then tally the guesses and announce a winner on Friday, July 9th. The prize for the person with the most correct guesses will be 6 months of paid LJ time. Unless that person is has a permanent account - there are a few - in which case, other arrangements can be made.

So, get to guessing!

Storytime!

2004-06-24T11:47:11Z

Well, despite LJ's efforts to the contrary, I have uploaded all of the stories to the journal.

I'm happy to say that we've got an amazing 32 stories. I want to thank all of the writers who worked so hard on their stories and got them in to me before the deadline and under the word limit! I also want to thank those who got it to me *cough* just *after* the deadline, and perhaps a bit over the word limit. With one exception (who has been properly chastised), most people were able to stay... relatively near the word limit, and I really do appreciate that.

Okay. So. Now, we move on to the guessing portion of our game. Due to the huge response, I'm going to extend the guessing period from the proposed one week to two weeks. This should give the guessers more time to catch up on the authors' works without stressing out over the time limit. Guesses can be sent to me before then, though.

eta: For easy navigation, I'll be adding the stories to the journal's memories.

eta2: As a reminder, the list of writers' sites can be found here.

If you'd like to guess, all you have to do is send me an e-mail with your guesses. Don't worry if they seem silly or stupid. Yes, this is the hard part, and it's equally hard for everybody guessing.

The stories are posted in the journal by number and title. In order to guess, send an e-mail to ds_undercover at yahoo dot com by ~~midnight, US Eastern time, the evening of Wednesday, July 7/morning of Thursday, July 8th.~~ noon, US Eastern time, Thursday, July 8th. Include your name, your LJ name, if it is different, the number and title of the piece, and who you think wrote it. Each of the pieces was written by somebody in the author list below.

Now that we've gotten that taken care of! I'd like to again thank all of our authors. We received stories from:

akite
ardent_muses
bethbethbeth
brooklinegirl
butterfly
cesperanza
chesamus
chickwriter
cmshaw
ekaterinn
estrella30
heuradys
jade_starlight
jenboo
kassrachel
lamardeuse
lynnmonster
pollitt
misspamela
pearl_o
rhiko
rowanfairchild
sam80853
sathinks
sihayab
sister_wolf
suaine
the_star_fish
thehoyden
theodosia
tobyfan

With a joint effort story by kaneko and cesperanza.

The stories are great, you all deserve a round of applause.

Please Stand By

2004-06-24T04:38:23Z

While we are experiencing technical difficulties.

LJ is being, I believe the proper term is, a poopy head. I have been at work for almost 2 hours and only have 6 stories uploaded.

So.

Instead of fighting LJ, I am instead going to wait until morning when it, hopefully, will be running just a little bit faster. They will still be dated as last night, however, so you most likely will not see them on your friends list. I will be making another post here when they are finished being uploaded. I apologize for the delay, and am accepting any and all offers for somebody to kick LJ in the head.

5

2004-06-24T04:25:43Z

Lost by chickwriter

"Consulate general of Canada. Consulat general du Canada…"

"Fraser…" the quiet hiss of the word slips through the phone line. A pause in the automatic recitation. Was he there? Was Fraser really there, or like everything else tonight, was it only an illusion?

Before he can gather up the energy to speak again, the words continue.

"We apologize that no one is available to take your call. If this is an emergency…"

"Fraser…" Slurred word, slurred name…Ray hangs up the phone before the message finishes. He needs to talk to Fraser and Fraser's not answering the phone.

Ronnie. That was the ticket: Ronnie and his new boyfriend, Omar the limo driver. Omar offered to take them partying now that the bar was closed. Lots of free booze left over from his last gig schlepping around a semi-famous rock star. Ray didn't want to leave the goat behind, parked not two blocks from the bar. Not that it was a *bad* bar; as bars go, it was really in a decent neighborhood. It was just that he couldn't leave the car. That's why he'd parked it so close. Except, now, he couldn't find it. Couldn't find the goat. Couldn't find Fraser. Both of them were lost. Omar would take him to Fraser, though. He had to.

"Ray, let us take you home." Ronnie's voice penetrated the fog that was Ray's brain.

"No. I have to find Fraser. I lost him. I have to find him."

Wherever, man," Omar says, island accent giving the words a Bob Marley twist. "I be ready to party. You just tell me where to drive."

"Canada," Ray says and collapses into the back seat.

Hours, or maybe days later, Ronnie shakes Ray awake. "Hey, dude, we're here. You want I should knock on the door?"

"No, got it covered." Ray waves his hand, brandishing a well-worn credit card.

"Don't leave home without it."

"You sure? I can take you home--"

"Got it," Ray insists, scrabbling to get out of the car. "I can do this." He stumbles to the front door, wiggles the credit card against the lock. It doesn't open. Ray touches the mechanism. Still feels the same. Maybe it's just him that's different.

He tries again. The lock stubbornly resists. "Won't open," he whispers, leaning his head against the wood. "Fraser…" The name slips out, unbidden, too quiet for even Ray to hear.

The door swings open, revealing the Mountie on the other side.

"Ray, you're drunk."

The mild voice holds no reproach, only states a fact. Fraser takes Ray by the arms and helps him inside, down the hall to the dimly lit parlor, letting him fall onto the small sofa.

"Fraser, I lost the goat." And I lost *you*, he thinks. Lost you when I told that kid with the gun that I couldn't die, because then, I wouldn't be able to tell my partner how much I love--stop, Kowalski. You can't say it now. You had to say it then, but not now.

A hand goes up, thumb brushing eyebrow in the semi-dark.

"I'll help you, Ray, but please tell me why you've done this. Why are you drunk?"

Ray concentrates on the words, trying to read emotion. There's nothing there, no accusation, just concern.

"Not telling. Can't. Find my car. Promise I won't drive."

Fraser leans towards Ray, smooths back the spiky blond hair. A caress? "You only do this when you're hurting, Ray. What is it? Did Stella--"

He's beginning to feel like the Berlin wall - chunks of him breaking, exposing what's been hidden. He knows Fraser won't give up. Ray's so afraid.

"Not Stella. Promise me that you'll help me find my car, Fraser."

Ray tries to hold on to the only thing that makes sense, because Fraser looks too good now. Casual, rumpled, approachable. All sleepiness and warm fuzzies. Ray just wants to brush up against Fraser, let it all go. But he can't.

"If I tell you I know where your car is, Ray, will you tell me why you felt you had to drink yourself into oblivion?"

Oblivion, yeah, that was it. It was easier to forget. Forget the whole liquor-soaked night, the whole miserable day. The fact that that for several long minutes, Stanley Raymond Kowalski faced death at the hands of a thirteen-year-old gangbanger with nothing to lose, and that before being rescued by Jack Huey, had admitted his feelings out loud for everyone to hear. Everyone except the Mountie…who for once, was at his regular job and wasn't there to rescue his partner.

Ray shudders, the words tumble from his mouth, unbidden, unwanted, but necessary.

"Thing is, Fraser," he whispers. "All I could see was that gun. I had no choice. I could die, still a liar, still a con job. Or I could face the disco music." He looks up at Fraser with a plea in his eyes, begging silently for understanding. "I'd rather disco than die a con job, Fraser."

Fraser moves into Ray's field of vision, yeah, a vision of Mountieness--the only thing keeping Ray hanging on. The sound of keys jangling breaks the quiet. Keys?

Ray looks up, eyes focusing for the first time since he entered the Consulate. Keys.

His keys. On his key ring. Dangling from Fraser's hand.

"One of the patrol officers called me, Ray. He recognized your car. When he couldn't find you, he called me to come get it. You'd parked in a tow zone."

"I lost the car, Fraser."

"Is that the only thing you lost, Ray?" Fraser asks quietly.

Ray shakes his head, a slow sorrowful movement. "No," he whispers, the word sliding through the silence. "I lost you, Fraser. You were there, then I lost you."

Fraser moves closer, his hand slides across the back of Ray's neck, presses a soft kiss to his partner's mouth. "I wasn't ever lost, Ray. I'm right here. I'll always be right here. Let's go get your car."

4

2004-06-24T04:00:15Z

If Wishes Were Horses by sihayab

“So I really was abducted by aliens when I was ten?” Ray squints at the inukshuk, goofily endearing in his glasses. The yellow scene of crime tape is gone from the area, and people wander about, oblivious to recent events. “I always thought the alien guys were just my brother and Petey Simchak wrapped in aluminum foil.”

“Your recollection was a trifle unclear.” I pretend to consider. “It’s very likely that was indeed the case.”

He grins at me. “’Course, if I *was* abducted by aliens, it would explain a lot.”

I return his smile, warmed by our banter. The day, while trying in many ways, has proved unexpectedly pleasant in others. Pleasant, and tempting. I haven’t yet succumbed to that temptation, but my desire to do so is palpable.

“Where would you like to go for dinner?”

Ray bites his thumbnail and looks around the mall. “Pizza?”

Dief adds his voice in agreement and I sigh. Generally pizza is fine with me, especially if it contains a generous helping of vegetables instead of merely cured meats, but tonight I yearn for something a bit more special. Something, in truth, other than food. I hesitate, but the possibility is simply too tantalizing to resist.

“Courgette.”

“Shall we dine at Thymes Square, Fraser?” Ray’s voice is flat.

I force myself to ignore the tone and concentrate on the words. “An excellent choice. Quiet, Dief. Ray would simply like to expand his culinary horizons.”

Ray blinks. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Dinner is delightful, and Ray admits that he is enjoying the meal, even the vegetable coulis that accompanies his salmon. Perhaps my transgression is somewhat mitigated by Ray’s pleasure.

Perhaps.

I don my hat as we leave the restaurant, and Ray zips up his jacket. The evening is clear and crisp, the sky bright with stars shining bravely through the ambient light of the city. The thought of remaining indoors is repellent.

“What would you suggest we do now, Ray?”

Ray fishes in his pocket and pulls out his car keys. “Back to my place? There’s a game on—”

“Cabbage.” The word is out before I can stop it.

“Would you like to take a walk through the park, Fraser?”

Ray’s expressionless voice rebukes me, and I almost decline. But to have Ray at my side in what passes for wilderness, to spend a few fleeting moments with him in the world where I am most comfortable, to be allowed to pretend that we are more to each other than reality allows – these siren calls prove too alluring. “What a pleasant idea, Ray. I would indeed. That’s quite enough, Dief. The walk will do you good.”

The park is shadowed and peaceful, just the thing after such a stressful day. We wander through a stand of trees and into an open field. Ray stops in the middle of the path and looks up.

“So, which star d’you think my aliens came from? I’d kinda like to know where to wave.”

I look up as well, but the brim of my hat obscures my view. I doff it and stand beside Ray, our eyes fixed on the heavens. Only one other deception remains: the most egregious one, for on my part it is not a deception at all, but the plain, unvarnished truth. Our shoulders bump, and I metaphorically grasp my courage.

“Parsnip.”

“I love you, Fraser.”

“And I you.” I close my eyes against the majesty of the firmament. “I love you, Ray. Body and soul, with a passion I never expected to...” My throat closes, but I have only a few moments before Ray awakens, so I press on. “I want to be with you, to stay by your side until I die. I want you, Ray, and in my dreams you return my desire. I wish—”

“Fraser?”

My heart stutters at the sound of his voice. How long has he been awake? What did he hear? “Yes, Ray?” I clear my throat and scarcely dare breathe.

“I’ve got a crick in my neck and my fingers are numb. Let’s go. If we hurry, we can catch the second half of the game.”

With an effort, I manage not to release my breath in a tell-tale sigh of relief. Ray heard nothing untoward. What I have done is reprehensible, inexcusable. Perversely, I feel a sense of liberation. I spoke the truth and the sky has not yet come crashing down. Perhaps one day I will be able to say the same words to Ray’s face.

In the meantime, I will have to be content with wishes.

3

2004-06-24T03:52:31Z

Violets by thehoyden

The letter that arrived that morning had not been entirely unexpected, but its contents had been wounding nonetheless. “Dear Ms. Thatcher: We regret that your status as a Canadian national would make it problematic to place a child with you at this time…”

Not unexpected, no. But this was a private sorrow, one to which she had no wish for her subordinates to bear witness. The closest she’d come to doing so had followed her cautious courtship of Fraser, when she’d been informed by her physician that her chances of conceiving a child were virtually nonexistent. The day Fraser had finally responded to her overtures, she had been forced to backpedal furiously, rather than divulge her deficiency.

And now, no adoption, not while she was stuck in this godforsaken country. She had felt her eyes watering
traitorously all morning. After Turnbull brought her a third cup of tea she had no intention of drinking,
accompanied by tea cookies he usually reserved for honored guests, she gave him a list of errands and all but shoved him out of the Consulate. He’d been alarmed and visibly unwilling, but this too, was not unexpected – Turnbull was really quite sensitive and emotionally perceptive.

The Consulate doorbell rang, and she waited for Fraser or Turnbull to get it. By the third ring, she belatedly realized that she was alone in the building.

She reached the door and flung it wide. On the doorstep was Francesca Vecchio, bearing a covered dish of something that smelled absolutely heavenly.

Francesca looked grimly determined. “Is Frayzh here?”

Naturally she was here for Fraser. Beautiful Italian women bearing home-cooked dishes never appeared on the Consulate doorstep for Meg Thatcher.

“No. He’s liaising with Detective Vecc – with your brother today.”

“Oh.” Francesca’s shoulders slumped. There was something in way she was standing in the middle of the foyer, in the way she was still clutching the covered container, in the way that she looked like this was just one disappointment too many. A suspicious sniffle escaped her.

Oh lord, don’t cry - if you cry, I’ll cry, I’ve spent all morning trying not to, Thatcher thought
desperately.

But one sniffle gave way to several more, and then Francesca’s shoulders were shaking. Alarmed, Thatcher
retrieved the dish before she could drop it and stowed it on top of the reception desk. Not a moment too soon, because Francesca all but hurled herself into Thatcher’s awkwardly outstretched arms.

Francesca sobbed in her arms, quietly and brokenly, as some part of Thatcher had been longing to do herself. Francesca was slighter than herself, so that her tears dripped, burning hot, at the base of Thatcher’s throat. She’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be trusted with this kind of momentary weakness, how it felt to be elected a suitable comforter and safe haven solely on account of being a woman.

Francesca was warm and soft in her arms, and her hair smelled faintly of vanilla. She rubbed soothing circles on Francesca’s back, like she’d seen friends do with their children.

“I was going to get married,” Francesca said finally, talking into Thatcher’s shoulder. “I was going to get over Fraser, and get married, and have beautiful babies. And after we thought he was dead, I thought maybe I was just never going to get over him. I was so happy to know he was still alive, I thought if I just tried a little bit harder…”

Thatcher absently stroked the ends of Francesca’s hair, and remained silent.

“But I don’t know even know what he wants, or who he’s looking for.”

Thatcher thought she knew, or at least had a good idea. And it wasn’t dark-eyed Italian women – she suspected, rather, that it might be wild-haired Polish men. But Francesca didn’t need that particular concern heaped on her plate at the moment.

“You could still…you could still have children,” Thatcher said eventually, though speaking of it was almost enough to break her heart. “You don’t have to be married to do that.”

Francesca looked up at her for the first time. “Do you ever think about it? Having kids, I mean?”

And that was it. That was it. All her careful control, eroded entirely by a gentle question and eyes that could have belonged to a Renaissance madonna. She felt it like ice cracking, tears seeping down her face. How absolutely wretched to be reduced to wanting the one thing which any woman was supposed to be able to do, what some spurned, and others treated as commonplace.

Francesca pulled them both into Thatcher’s office, and because she couldn’t stand just then to stay the words out loud, she offered the letter to Francesca.

Francesca read it, and embraced her again, offering back the same comfort received earlier. After a while, the tears stopped, and they both made good use of the expensive box of tissues that Thatcher kept on her desk.

“Our makeup’s ruined,” Francesca said, examining Thatcher’s face critically. “I brought lunch – we should eat it, don’t you think?”

Over truly excellent manicotti and a bottle of wine that was technically a gift to the Consulate, Francesca said, “You kinda surprised me today. I didn’t think you could, you know, do that.”

Thatcher looked at her steadily. “Am I to be made of stone?”

“No,” Francesca said hurriedly, placing her hand on top of Thatcher’s.

“You’re touching me,” Thatcher blurted out.

Francesca didn’t seem inclined to move her hand. “Tonight. You should…you should come to dinner. At my house.”

Thatcher stared at her.

“Well. It’s not really my house – it’s our family’s house, and my Ma and sister and brother-in-law and, um, Ray, - we all live there. So, if you wanted to, you could come to dinner – “

“Yes,” Thatcher interrupted, never mind that they’d only just finished eating a feast meant for Fraser.

Francesca favored her with a dazzling smile. “Great! That’ll be just…great.”

Thatcher escorted her to the front door of the Consulate. “Should I bring something?”

Francesca hesitated. “Just yourself,” she said finally, but the way she said it made Thatcher think that herself, just as she was, was finally more that enough.

It was possibly the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. They were still standing near the door, and the hand Thatcher had on Francesca’s shoulder somehow moved to cup Francesca’s cheek. It wasn’t much of a stretch to lean slightly down and press her lips to Francesca’s. It had that feeling of wonder, of delighted shock, of promise.

They heard the door open just in time to separate. Turnbull greeted them both and then took his place at the front desk.

Francesca looked flustered and enthusiastic at the same time. “So, seven o’clock?”

“I’ll be there,” Thatcher said. Francesca gifted her with another beautiful smile before slipping out the door.

Behind her, Turnbull delicately cleared his throat. “Sir, I picked up your dry-cleaning. Would you like me to order flowers?”

“For what, Turnbull?” she asked absently, a tone of waspishness returning as she gazed at the door Francesca had just left by.

When Turnbull said nothing, she turned around to seem him smiling. A very conspiratorial smile even. “Violets, perhaps?”

Thatcher felt her traitorous face blush. “That’s…very perceptive, Turnbull.”

He smiled bashfully, and picked up the phone.

2

2004-06-24T03:40:17Z

The Price of Expedience by kaneko and cesperanza

While he'd been expecting a stealth attack for some time, he wasn't prepared for her swiftness. Before Fraser could react, Francesca Vecchio's tongue was halfway down his throat.

She'd backed him up against the filing cabinet in the resource room. "Look, mistletoe!" she'd said, pointing at the ceiling, and Fraser made the mistake of looking up.

After that, it was all a big blur of Francesca's hand grabbing his collar, her soft mouth, her soft breasts, and Fraser's own incipient panic attack.

"Francesca!" he said, and his voice sounded strange and distant over the thud of his heartbeat. He attempted to extricate himself. Behind him, something crashed, but he didn't dare turn around. "I consider you a colleague! A sister. *Ray's* sister. And- and, I'm gay."

Francesca froze, and Fraser almost collapsed in relief. "What*?" she said. She pulled back.

What? Fraser replayed the last few seconds in his head. There was the kiss, and then he'd knocked over - oh dear, he rather suspected that had been Detective Dewey's favorite pot plant. And then, he'd said- oh. *Oh*. Francesca twitched as though she were about to swoop in again. "Gay!" Fraser said again, clutching at the word like a drowning man. "Gay as- gay as a young girl dancing around a maypole."

Francesca opened her mouth and then closed it again. "You know, that actually explains so- Wait-" her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I've had the occasional aberration," Fraser said quickly.

"Oh," Frannie said. "So- really? Gay?

"Yes." Fraser smoothed down his tunic, readjusted his lanyard with shaking fingers. "Quite gay. I uh- I enjoy the company of men. In a very gay way."

"Huh." Francesca patted her hair. "Oh, well," she shrugged. "You want the Ilinovsky files, right?" She smiled suddenly, and it was the most professional, impersonal smile Fraser had ever seen from her.

He sighed in profound relief. "That's exactly right," he said.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Your Great Uncle Tiberius had homosexual tendencies in his youth, you know," Fraser's father said, conversationally, while Fraser was still recovering in the men's room. "They often found him frolicking naked in the snow with the local boys. Girls too. He was quite the charmer until he went insane."

"I'm not gay, Dad," Fraser said irritably. He splashed cold water on his face.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, son. I kissed Buck Frobisher once. Of course, we'd been snowed in for nearly a month by then, rations down to nothing. Thought we'd never see a woman again. It's surprising what can be attractive in a situation like that. I suppose in the right circumstances, I might even have eaten him," he mused.

"I'm not gay!" Fraser said again, interrupting this terrifying reminiscence. "I just- And then Francesca- I panicked."

His father looked at him doubtfully. "I don't know," he said. "Turning tail when a pretty girl shakes *her* tail. Sounds pretty nancy to me."

"I've never heard such nonsense."

"That's what your Uncle Tiberius always said. "His father peered at him. "How's the psyche holding up? Not feeling crazy, are you?"

"You mean, aside from the fact than I'm talking to my father's ghost?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Good to know!" his father said. He patted Fraser's back with his non-corporeal hand.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ten minutes later, Fraser's nose was numb from all the cold water, and Lieutenant Welsh was calling him into his office.

"Ah, Constable!" Welsh said, closing the door behind them. He handed Fraser a lavender-colored booklet. "I'm required by federal law to give you a copy of this handout, produced by the City government, regarding sexual orientation-"

Fraser blinked. "Uh."

"-and your right not to be harassed in the workplace. I think you'll find that today's police force is very understanding about these things."

"Lieutenant, there's been some mistake." Fraser blurted. "I mean, there *was* one woman in Stillwater with a very masculine face, but-"

"Francesca told me," Welsh said kindly. "And I know this is difficult, but if you ever need to talk about your um- your feelings, you know you can always come to me."

"No," Fraser said in horror. He tugged at his collar. "I mean, thank you, Lieutenant, but that won't be necessary."

"Oh, thank God," Welsh said. He collapsed into his chair. "Danny's your LGBT rep. You can talk to him instead."

"No, I mean, that won't be necessary because I lied, sir. I was desperate. Francesca-"

Welsh's face cleared. "Oh, I see. You were trying to- well, better men than you, Constable," he said. "And as I said, let's never speak of this again."

Fraser nodded. "Understood, sir."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Becky from the bursar's office didn't even look up as Fraser walked past, which was unusual. But Danny grabbed his arm and beamed at him.

"Hey, Fraser!" he said. "Welcome to the clan, man! Here, have a free pass to the Waterworks. Two-for-one drinks for Friday night." Danny handed him- well, it seemed to be some sort of coupon.

"Danny." Fraser sighed; Danny was infused with such pride. "I have to be honest with you. I'm not really-" He hesitated as Danny's face fell, "-sure I have time to discuss this. Perhaps another time?" he concluded lamely.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

And much, much later, there was a knock at the Consulate door. Fraser sighed and cracked his neck, then slipped out of his warm bed.

Ray was at the door, blond hair spiked messily, as though he'd just gotten out of bed himself. "I, uh." Ray scratched the back of his neck. "I heard. What you said, and I need to know. Is it- is it true, Fraser?"

Fraser shook his head, feeling strangely panicked. "I told Lieutenant Welsh I wasn't! I *told* him!"

Ray smiled forcedly. "Okay," he said. "I was just. I just wanted to know." He started to shrug on his jacket.

"Ray, wait. No." Fraser put his hand on Ray's arm. "It's true. I- I lied," he said. He smiled a little as Ray's face turned tentatively hopeful. "Do you want to come inside?"

1

2004-06-24T03:33:34Z

Duress - A by ardent_muses

Fraser squirmed on his rigid kitchen chair. This didn't feel right.

For one thing, there wasn't any hard evidence that a crime had been committed. For another, he normally didn't interrogate a suspect in the kitchen of Ray's apartment.

But Ray had insisted. "Stick with me, Benton buddy! Tonight this guy is going *down*"

It had seemed so harmless when Ray had suggested it that morning. Unorthodox, but harmless. A comfortable setting. A few simple questions. Ray taking the hard line. Fraser playing the good cop (and not for the first time he wondered why he didn’t ever get to play a more interesting role).

But the suspect hadn't responded to questions at all. Not at all. To Fraser, that indicated innocence. To Ray, apparently, just the opposite.

Fraser knew if he stood up and looked out the window, he would find Ray pacing the sidewalk in front of the apartment building, talking on his cellular telephone in the summer twilight. He had been there all afternoon, pushing, pressuring, coaching Fraser through the interrogation. A preposterous way to conduct an interview with a suspect, but that was Ray.

“It’s no good if he sees me, Fraser,” he had said. “That’ll give the game away. You stay there with him. He trusts you.”

“But Ray! He’ll wonder why you’re not here. He knows this is your apartment! And he’ll wonder why I’m talking to you on the phone.”

Ray had tapped his nose with his forefinger. “That’s the beauty of this plan. Let him wonder.”

Twice now, Ray had asked Fraser to hold the phone up to the suspect's ear, but there had been no response other than a look of confusion and irritation. The suspect was getting restless, and maybe that was a good thing, but Fraser knew he couldn’t hold him much longer without producing some evidence. Evidence that didn’t exist.

This time, as he held the phone to the suspect’s ear, he could hear Ray yelling through the phone, “Yeah, I’m right down here in front of the building. Why don’t you just come right down and get me? Huh? Huh punk?”

No reaction at first, but then the suspect yawned.

Fraser took the phone back and listened to what Ray would do next.

“Nothing huh? Okay," Ray said in his ear. "I've got him this time. This is the big one. Get ready to see him crack. Give him the phone, Frase."

Once again, Fraser held the phone to Dief's ear. He could hear Ray's voice, dark with promise, describing in detail the variety of each doughnut in the box he held in his hand.

This time, it worked. Dief’s eyes met Fraser’s and they exchanged a stare that was sorrowful and accusing on both sides. Then Dief ran to the window and jumped out onto the fire escape. The wolf’s toenails clattered against the metal grating as he raced down to Ray and his pastry bribe.

Fraser sighed. Why did *he* feel guilty? He wasn't the one who had been lying. He should feel relieved. Finally, he knew once and for all. But still, he felt a little low.

Ray was talking again. "Fraser?"

He picked up the phone. "Yes Ray."

"I'm sorry, pal, but it had to be done. Otherwise he'd be pulling that "deaf wolf" crap forever.

“Understood.”

“Fraser?”

“Yes, Ray?”

“Come on down and have a doughnut.”

“On my way.”

Time's Up!

2004-06-23T16:18:16Z

*Rings the bell*

*clears throat*

Let it hereby be known that this portion of the challenge has been closed! Due to the large number of stories received, they will be posted some time later tonight, along with the rules and deadlines for guessing. I want to thank everybody who wrote stories, and would suggest that the guessers start reading up, because I've looked at them, and this is going to be tough!

Deadline Reminder

2004-06-22T23:38:11Z

I'd like to remind people that the deadline for your submissions is tomorrow, Wednesday, June 23rd, at noon, US Eastern time. I've received 14 stories already, keep them coming! If you're not going to be able to get your story in on time (as happens, I understand), please drop me an e-mail at ds_undercover @ yahoo . com and let me know. Thanks!

Story Links

2004-06-16T16:42:15Z

Hear ye, hear ye! As there is but a week left of the writing portion of this contest, I hereby present to you, the participants, a mostly complete set of links whereforeto find other writings and stories by the writers.

*ahem* I've tried to assemble a set of links, anyway. I've provided links to people's LJs, websites (where available and fannish), as well as a direct link to where you can find most of their DS Fic, if available online.

If you see errors in any of the information, or have an alternate place you'd like me to send people for your stories, please let me know.

Writers, remember! The stories are due by noon, a week from today. I've already received stories from three of the participants, and I'm quite excited.

LJ: akite
Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/a_kite_fic/
DS Fic: http://www.geocities.com/a_kite_fic/other-fic.html

LJ: ardent_muses
Webpage: http://ardent.mrks.org/
DS Fic: http://ardent.mrks.org/offer.html

LJ: bethbethbeth
Webpage: http://beth-h.mrks.org/
DS Fic: http://beth-h.mrks.org/DS_Fiction.html

LJ: brooklinegirl
Webpage: http://www.happyfriendbox.com/
DS Fic: http://members.tripod.com/~happyfriendbox/duesouth.html

LJ: butterfly
Webpage: http://dianamichelle.5u.com/
DS Fic: http://dianamichelle.5u.com/analysis/duesouth/fanfic/

LJ: chickwriter
Webpage: N/A
DS Fic: DSA as "chickwriter"

LJ: cesperanza
Webpage: http://www.trickster.org/speranza/
DS Fic: http://www.trickster.org/speranza/stories.html

LJ: chesamus
Webpage: N/A
DS Fic: DSA as "chesamus"

LJ: cmshaw
Webpage: http://cmshaw.slashcity.net/
DS Fic: http://cmshaw.slashcity.net/mine.html

LJ: darthfox
Webpage: http://www.squidge.org/~foxsden/fox/foxsindex.html
DS Fic: http://www.squidge.org/~foxsden/fox/fduesouth.html

LJ: ekaterinn
Webpage: http://www.wishing-blue.net/ekaterinn/
DS Fic: At her LJ

LJ: estrella30
Webpage: N/A
DS Fic: In her memories

LJ: gblvr
Webpage: http://www.strangefits.com/ginchy/fiction.html or gblvr_lite
DS Fic: N/A

LJ: heuradys
Webpage: http://heuradys.tvheaven.com/
DS Fic: DSA as "Heuradys"

LJ: jade_starlight
Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/jade_standish/
DS Fic: ds_flashfiction as jade_starlight

LJ: jenboo
Webpage: N/A
DS Fic: Due Slash as "JennyB." (with the period)

LJ: kaneko
Webpage: http://www.trickster.org/anyroad/kaneko/index.htm
DS Fic: http://mia.mrks.org/fanfic.html

LJ: kassrachel
Webpage: http://www.trickster.org/kass/
DS Fic: http://www.trickster.org/kass/dSfiction.html

LJ: lamardeuse
Webpage: http://poutinette.tripod.com/index.htm
DS Fic: http://poutinette.tripod.com/ds/dsindex.htm

LJ: lynnmonster
Webpage: N/A
DS Fic: http://www.livejournal.com/users/lynnmonster/68449.html
(this is a locked entry to which lynn has added all listed participants. If you'd like to read these before you guess and haven't put your name up yet, let me know, and I'll have her add you to that filter)

LJ: misspamela
Webpage: N/A
DS Fic: DSA as "byob" or "byob_kenobi"

LJ: pollitt
Webpage: Mendacity
DS Fic: http://redshipsgreenships.com/rgpol.html

LJ: pearl_o
Webpage: http://pearlo.illuminatedtext.com/
DS Fic: http://pearlo.illuminatedtext.com/ds.htm

LJ: rhiko
Webpage: http://theburrow.net/
DS Fic: http://theburrow.net/ds/index.html

LJ: rowanfairchild
Webpage: http://rowan.mrks.org/
DS Fic: http://rowan.mrks.org/fiction_ds.html

LJ: sam80853
Webpage: http://de.geocities.com/bakulascott2000/ff.htm
DS Fic: http://de.geocities.com/bakulascott2000/south.htm

LJ: sathinks
Webpage: http://www.fubos.com/
DS Fic: http://www.fubos.com/fiction/other.html

LJ: shayheyred
Webpage: N/A
DS Fic: DSA as "Shay Sheridan" and ds_flashfiction as shayheyred

sihayab
Webpage: N/A
DS Fic: DSA as "Sihaya Black"

sister_wolf
Webpage: http://fanfic.badb.net/
DS Fic: http://fanfic.badb.net/ds/dsdex.html

LJ: suaine
Webpage: http://www.crowgod.de/
DS Fic: At above site

LJ: the_star_fish
Webpage: http://starfish.mrks.org/
DS Fic: http://starfish.mrks.org/stories.html

LJ: thehoyden
Webpage: N/A
DS Fic: http://theburrow.net/ds/

LJ: theodosia
Webpage: N/A
DS Fic: http://home.comcast.net/~fauxpaws/fiction.html

LJ: thermidor
Webpage: N/A
DS Fic: http://www.obliquestroke.com/thermidor/index.htm

LJ: tobyfan
Webpage: http://home.att.net/~amytych/fanfic.html
DS Fic: http://home.att.net/~amytych/senfic.html

LJ: wynterhawk
Webpage: N/A
DS Fic: Two Axes as "nona"

Challenge and Rules

2004-06-02T14:16:05Z

I'm absolutely blown away by the response we've had so far. I'm very excited. As promised, here is the long awaited challenge and rules post. I tried to cover everything, but if you think I've missed something, or have any questions, feel free to reply or e-mail me.

The Challenge:

Write a story in which somebody admits something under duress.

The Rules:

1. The story must be at least 500 and no longer than 1000 words in length.

2. The story must be e-mailed to ds_undercover at yahoo dot com by noon, EST on Wednesday, June 23.

3. There is no rule number three.

4. No AUs, please. Pre- and post-canon is fine, but if the story is set within the show's time frame, please stay reasonably in canon.

5. If the story is beta'd, the beta reader may not partake in the guessing.

"They're more like guidelines, really..." (aka suggestions, requests and answers to FAQs)

- Any type of story is acceptable. Slash, het, even *gasp* gen.

- If you have any questions regarding specifics of your story, please e-mail me directly as opposed to posting a question here.

- I will accept any story up until noon on the 23rd. You don't have to have signed up ahead of time in order to write. However, if you did sign up, and you're not going to be able to write, please do let me know, so that I can cross your name off of my "people to nag about their stories" list.

Again, if you have any further questions, please feel free to post them to this post, or e-mail them to ds_undercover at yahoo dot com.

Master Writer/Guesser lists

2004-05-30T14:10:58Z

Okay, as of this morning, we've got 14 37 people signed up to write, and 13 34 to guess. This is where I'll be keeping the master list of who is signed up to write and who is signed up to guess. If you want to do either (they're not *both* required), check back and make sure that I've got your name on here. I'm going to try to be updating it once a day. It's looking like I'll be posting the challenge around noon on Wednesday, June 2nd, so if you'd like to write, please let me know before then so that I can keep track of how many people I need to nag for their stories. ;-)

Writers
akite
ardent_muses
bethbethbeth
brooklinegirl
butterfly
chickwriter
cesperanza
chesamus
cmshaw
darthfox
ekaterinn
estrella30
gblvr
heuradys
jade_starlight
jenboo
kaneko
kassrachel
lamardeuse
lynnmonster
misspamela
pollitt
pearl_o
rhiko
rowanfairchild
sam80853
sathinks
shayheyred
sihayab
sister_wolf
suaine
the_star_fish
thehoyden
theodosia
thermidor
tobyfan
wynterhawk

Guessers
akite
ardent_muses
bethbethbeth
brooklinegirl
cesperanza
chesamus
cmshaw
darthfox
ekaterinn
estrella30
gblvr
heuradys
jenboo
kaneko
lamardeuse
lynnmonster
lyra_sena
pollitt
mei_x
misspamela
pearl_o
rhiko
rowanfairchild
sam80853
shayheyred
umbo
suaine
the_star_fish
thehoyden
theodosia
thermidor
tobyfan
twistedchick
wynterhawk

Setting Parameters

2004-05-29T15:00:49Z

Wow! I'm so excited that so many people are interested. That's fabulous. The way the poll results are running right now, here's what I'm thinking about:

3 weeks to write the story, with a week to guess. Should there be an overwhelming number of stories written, then I'm willing to extend the guessing to two weeks - this will be a decision made and announced when I post the stories. Story length will be 500-1000 words with the contest starting in about a week (I was thinking about putting up the challenge some time this coming week so that everything would be said and done with by the 4th of July for those in the US who may have obligations that weekend)

I know many of you expressed your interest in the comments of the last post, and even more of you took the poll. Thank you for that. If this sounds good to you guys, though, if you could leave a message and say whether you'd like to write, guess, or both, I can start to get a head count. (If it doesn't sound good, speak now or forever hold your peace) I'll make a post, then, probably some time tomorrow with the lists of writers/guessers. You're encouraged to do both!

Introductory Entry

2004-05-27T18:29:42Z

Welcome to Due South Undercover. The idea of this journal is to create a contest similar to that run in secret_ids. In that contest, a vague challenge was given ("write a story where somebody is telling a lie and somebody is telling the truth") and authors were given two weeks to write a story. They were then posted anonymously, allowing a week for readers to guess who wrote which story.

If you're interested, please leave a comment in this entry, and fill out the poll below.

For what it's worth, I had been planning on making it 250-750 words, written in two weeks, with a week to guess. Word limits will be strictly enforced. If you've got any other comments or ideas please feel free to leave those in the comments as well. Thanks!

View Poll: #299830