THIS IS A BETA VERSION -- IT IS NOT EDITTED!

Notes & Disclaimers: I mean no disrespect to Alliance, truly I don't, but Fraser sometimes goes off on his own, you know, and I'm powerless to stop it. Really. He'll be back, eventually, along with anyone else from the Due South universe who might have wandered off, (in this case, Mark Smithbauer) having had no profit made from them, and no lasting scars.

This is a missing scene from the 2nd season episode "The Blue Line", which, even to my jaded sensibilities, is one of the damn slashiest things I've ever seen in my life. I thought long and hard about whether or not to write it, assuming someone else MUST have, but no-one did, so it falls to me. Boo-freakin'-hoo. J Frankly, if you missed the, to borrow a phrase, "throbbing heaps of sexual tension" between Fraser and Mark, then I believe you must be impaired in some way.

Rated: NC-17 slash for artfully graphic descriptions of wholly consensual m/m sex, and in fact, not much else. It's all about the looove, people. If you feel that might bother you, get on off to place that doesn't feature two incredibly gorgeous men doin' sinful things to each other.

I think that's it.

feedback is always welcome


He Shoots, He Scores!!
a missing scene from "The Blue Line"
by Caile Donachaidh Kane

From the Official NHL Players' Rulebook:

Rule 48. Checking from Behind
A check from behind is a check delivered on a player who is not aware of the impending hit, therefore UNABLE TO DEFEND HIMSELF, and contact is made on the back part of the body. When a player intentionally turns his body to create contact with his back, no penalty shall be assessed.

Mark sighed, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. "I can't sleep," he said after a minute.

Fraser lifted his head. "What is it?"

"It's seven pm," Mark pointed out.

Fraser raised his eyebrows. "So what would you prefer to be doing?"

The hockey player sat up. "I dunno... Be on the ice, working out my tension on a defenceless puck. That'd be good."

"We could do that," Fraser agreed, sitting up with a nod. "Do you want to go down to the arena?"

"Yeah..." Mark glaced at Diefenbaker, who was still staring fixedly at him. "What do you do with this animal when you bring women home?"

Fraser shot a surprised look at his friend. "That occasion... has not arisen."

"I see."

"Well, you must understanf that Dief is in awe over having his favourite..."

"It's not the wolf," Mark cut in. "Or the time."

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Fraser scrubbed a hand through his hair.

Mark stood, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. "Remember back in Inuvik, we used to go polar bearing in the springtime? Come back from school, throw off our clothes, and jump in the ocean?"

"I still don't follow you, Mark." Ben stood as well, cocking his head in genuine incomprehension.

"I'm gay, Ben," he said bluntly. "I knew it all my life. I knew it the first time I saw you jump naked off an ice floe. It's not the wolf... it's you."

Fraser dropped his eyes, uncertain of how to respond to this revelation.

"You were always the bravest..." Mark continued in a husky voice. "Whenever I came up with some half-assed idea, you were the guy with the guts to see it through. You were so much stronger than me..." He gave a sudden wry chuckle. "Can you imagine if it got out? A gay hockey player? I wouldn't live out the week."

Fraser gazed at his friend, concern in his eyes. "You know your secret is safe with me."

"Of course." Mark hunched his shoulders, looking very small all of sudden. "Thanks, ay?"

It made sense, when he thought about it. Ben had always attributed Mark's disinterest in girls to the other man's unrelenting focus on hockey; it stood to reason that he'd want no distractions, if he was truly going to be the best. But a part of his mind had been aware, too, of the way Mark would cast sidelong glances at him as they undressed by the water's edge. The way Mark would always find a reason to start a "friendly" wrestling match whenever Ben slept over at his house. The way that, at 13, it had been gratifying to have a best friend so loyal, so possessive.

The way that, at 34, it was so gratifying to have that man looking at you with raw hunger in his eyes. Emotions unwittingly locked away for twenty years were slipping loose, as he returned Mark's gaze in the dim lamplight, and remembered how he'd wept when his grandmother told him that they were leaving Inuvik.

Mark took a step closer and reached out, his fingers trailing along Fraser's jaw. "The strong, brave one..." he murmured.

"You're just a brave," Fraser said quietly, honestly. "I've always had faith in you."

"Thank-you," Mark replied, taking another step, his hand shaking as he slid it up to cup the back of his friend's head. "Wish I had the same faith in myself."

For a breathless moment they stood like that, then Ben swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. "Go ahead. Be brave now."

So then there was the kiss: bruising, aching, tongue meeting and parting and checking against teeth. Fraser felt himself crushed against Mark's strong chest, felt hands sliding into his hair, then down over his ass. His own hands rested on Mark's waist, trying to bring the other man closer, if such a thing were possible. The kiss was endless, Mark was lighting fires that Ben hadn't known there was tinder for; in what seemed an instant, he was more painfully aroused than he'd ever been in his life.

They fell back onto the cot, Fraser on the bottom, and he pushed his hips up, feeling Mark's erection through his jeans. Mark trailed kisses along his friend's jaw, down the column of his throat, fingers busily unbuttoning the red union suit. Fraser unsnapped Mark's jeans, trying unsuccessfully to shove them down, and the other man chuckled into his mouth.

"Here..." In a liquid motion he stood and divested himself of the pants....

to be continued....