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slashthedrabble Nov. 12th, 2005 05:43 am)
a-phoenixdragon.livejournal.com posting in slashthedrabble Nov. 12th, 2005 05:43 am)Fandom: Angel/Stargate
Title: Crossing Paths
Pairing(s): Jack/Angel
Rating: NC-17 (Just in case)
Warnings: Angst, Darkness, Long-Lost friends fic
Wordcount: 300
It had been a long time.
He had never expected their paths to cross again, but he was glad to see him, nonetheless. Recognition came easier for him – he was far older and he'd had few friends. Or maybe it was just that the man standing across the park from him didn’t want to remember.
“Hey,” he said breathlessly. “Long time, no see. When was the last – ”
“‘Nam.” Those deep amber eyes locked with his, and the man relaxed, silver hair almost ghostly white in the moonlight, those eyes so very, very deep. He was older, of course, and a bit battered around the edges, but he still had the ability to steal you breath, and stop your heart – figuratively speaking.
The changes weren’t all good. His eyes, his face spoke of losses numerous and life that was weary. Not suicidal like he used to be – reckless is, was – more the word.
Still, the pain that lived in his eyes, seemed to swarm into Angel’s soul, shivering him in a way that had nothing to do with the crisp cold of the twilight.
His gaze drifted to the open collar of his old friend’s shirt, that shivery feeling becoming an ache of remembered lust, which was summarily savored and then dismissed – Jack’s gaze softening slightly with amusement and rememberance – and noticed that something was missing. Something besides the usual animation and deep fierce joy that the man used to wear like an aura.
His silver crucifix. It –
“Where?” He questioned softly.
Those eyes deepened, retreating, then -
“Gone.”
Jack fell inward, remembering (Charlie, Sarah, Iraq, Daniel) and the host of other things, as he looked back into the regretful, mournful gaze of his old companion and war buddy.
“Why?” Angel whispered, moving closer. He felt like weeping when Jack flinched back from him, the gesture not of fear, but of an odd sense of protection.
He was always so protective...
“God doesn’t live here,” was the dour reply. “It was a mistake to think He ever has.”
Angel watched him, wanting to touch him, to tell him that all was not lost; but it would be a lie – and they both knew it.
Finally, inescapably, Jack turned away, and vanished as silently as he had arrived; leaving Angel to wonder if he had ever been there at all.
Fandom: MacGyver/Stargate
Title: When Lives Cross
Pairing(s): Jack/Daniel
Rating: NC-17 (Just in case)
Warnings: Angst, Temporary Loss, Unrequited Love
Wordcount: 500
He felt guilty, he felt like he was prying.
But Jack had been gone for so long – and he took his secrets with him.
He missed him so much. Wondered and worried about where he was now, knowing that he was in danger; that he was not safe.
Knowing his secret, his biggest one, was right in front of him.
Lost amid the contents of this cardboard box.
Two lives. Both of them real, both of them in danger – and Daniel felt he had crossed a line, crossed a point when friendship ends and understanding begins.
He opened the box.
A battered, brown aviator hat. A photograph. A few journals. Scraps of paper, scrawled in familiar, but not, handwriting. A long, soft, tattered yellow scarf.
He peered at the photo and felt a surge of jealousy as he gazed upon the young face of his friend, his face alive, his manner easy and full of laughter as he leaned against a stocky, equally jovial male, their arms slung over each others shoulders in an intimate gesture of friendship and closeness.
He wanted that closeness, that life that dwelled in that handsome face, but he had never gotten it – and now, maybe he never would.
He leaned closer to the photo, as if to fall within it and be swept up in that time, that moment, that place –
To feel a part of what they felt, to be close to them both and share their easy camaraderie.
The stocky man with the dark, thick mustache and twinkling eyes was wearing a battered, brown aviator cap, and a flowing yellow scarf flung casually around his throat.
Daniel bit his lip and let his eyes drift over it, before seizing the topmost journal and flipping. He had gotten one of those bad, funny feelings – and after reading a few passages, his bad feeling was confirmed.
His heart thumped in misery and an odd fierce joy; miserable for his friend and happy that he would never have to witness that deep closeness that would never be his.
‘He’s gone.’ The journal read, its loopy scrawl a slash of rage and grief; smears along the pages indicating that Mac/Jack had wept as he wrote this.
Daniel’s heart clenched in guilt and horror as he read on, the sheer agony of the writer blasting from the tattered pages as Jack Dalton’s death was relived in horrifying technicolor.
His death sudden, sweeping and over.
‘I’m not going to write anymore.’ The journal declared, the strokes deeper and more angry as it went. ‘The pain is too much... What’s the point anyway?! We’re dead, we’re all dead – and the best of us – ’
It ended there. Heart thudding in dizzy sorrow, Daniel peered at the photograph that had made him so jealous, angry and lonely – the two friends, one of them dead, one of them soon to be, if not already – and felt his heart clench in grief for the man he had never known. He flipped it to the back to read the inscription, before closing the box and going back upstairs.
That inscription burned in his mind as the weeks and months flew by, with still no word.
‘To Mac – the best friend a guy ever had! Keep those ideas coming, Genius – and know that the skies are always friendly with me! Friends forever, man!
Your Fly-By-Night Messenger – Jack Dalton’
And of course, for the Angel buffs - one just for you guys! *Squishes you all!*
Fandom: Angel
Title: One Cross
Pairing(s): Angel/Wesley
Rating: NC-17 (Just in case)
Warnings: Angst, Darkness
Wordcount: 400
His silence was so damning, so telling; the young man he had been was gone now, most likely never to return, and the fact that he had been the cause, the main factor in this conversion, made him ache with guilt and horror – and only increased his unease.
So he followed him.
Where would this new man go, what would he do?
And the answers were chilling and heartbreaking –
He had become a mercenary, a bounty hunter. The rogue demon hunter he had always claimed to be – and the ease and coldness with which he dispatched his enemies and targets made Angel cold from within.
He had made him this way.
He was always good at making monsters, but this was more eerie and horrible, because this monster was still a man.
The darkness that swarmed and chattered about Wesley’s form almost seemed to chuckle and writhe with ecstasy, as he carried on about his gruesome business; his utter ruthlessness and rage a deep pain that stabbed at Angel over and over – his soul crying out for the man he had been, what had been lost in the past.
He was careful not to get to close.
The Darkness sucked at Angel’s soul as if to look for a new home, it’s swimming black hate a shield, a cross to be born by the man it had claimed as it’s own.
At the end of the night, he faded back to the hotel, the image of Wesley’s last target burning in his mind; how he screamed for mercy, his terror of the man that stood before him palpable and sickening.
And Wes had killed him anyway, his face shuttered in indifference, his eyes dancing with the flat darkness that he wore like a cloak.
But worst of all was what he had to say to his quarry once the deed was done.
‘You should have remembered to keep your business out of L.A.’
Then he had wiped his sword off on the creature’s shirt, before strolling away – his eyes ahead of him, focused on the next murder-for-hire.
Yes, it was a cross. Wesley bore it with the air of a man who had no idea the burden that he carried – but he was not the only one to carry it.
Angel bore it too, and the weight of it boiled his soul and seared his flesh, as surely as if Wes had pressed its horror against him.
It was one burden that he took without complaint –
But he prayed that he would get the man he once knew back.
A prayer he knew would never be answered.
Mandy aka PhoenixDragon
Title: Crossing Paths
Pairing(s): Jack/Angel
Rating: NC-17 (Just in case)
Warnings: Angst, Darkness, Long-Lost friends fic
Wordcount: 300
It had been a long time.
He had never expected their paths to cross again, but he was glad to see him, nonetheless. Recognition came easier for him – he was far older and he'd had few friends. Or maybe it was just that the man standing across the park from him didn’t want to remember.
“Hey,” he said breathlessly. “Long time, no see. When was the last – ”
“‘Nam.” Those deep amber eyes locked with his, and the man relaxed, silver hair almost ghostly white in the moonlight, those eyes so very, very deep. He was older, of course, and a bit battered around the edges, but he still had the ability to steal you breath, and stop your heart – figuratively speaking.
The changes weren’t all good. His eyes, his face spoke of losses numerous and life that was weary. Not suicidal like he used to be – reckless is, was – more the word.
Still, the pain that lived in his eyes, seemed to swarm into Angel’s soul, shivering him in a way that had nothing to do with the crisp cold of the twilight.
His gaze drifted to the open collar of his old friend’s shirt, that shivery feeling becoming an ache of remembered lust, which was summarily savored and then dismissed – Jack’s gaze softening slightly with amusement and rememberance – and noticed that something was missing. Something besides the usual animation and deep fierce joy that the man used to wear like an aura.
His silver crucifix. It –
“Where?” He questioned softly.
Those eyes deepened, retreating, then -
“Gone.”
Jack fell inward, remembering (Charlie, Sarah, Iraq, Daniel) and the host of other things, as he looked back into the regretful, mournful gaze of his old companion and war buddy.
“Why?” Angel whispered, moving closer. He felt like weeping when Jack flinched back from him, the gesture not of fear, but of an odd sense of protection.
He was always so protective...
“God doesn’t live here,” was the dour reply. “It was a mistake to think He ever has.”
Angel watched him, wanting to touch him, to tell him that all was not lost; but it would be a lie – and they both knew it.
Finally, inescapably, Jack turned away, and vanished as silently as he had arrived; leaving Angel to wonder if he had ever been there at all.
Fandom: MacGyver/Stargate
Title: When Lives Cross
Pairing(s): Jack/Daniel
Rating: NC-17 (Just in case)
Warnings: Angst, Temporary Loss, Unrequited Love
Wordcount: 500
He felt guilty, he felt like he was prying.
But Jack had been gone for so long – and he took his secrets with him.
He missed him so much. Wondered and worried about where he was now, knowing that he was in danger; that he was not safe.
Knowing his secret, his biggest one, was right in front of him.
Lost amid the contents of this cardboard box.
Two lives. Both of them real, both of them in danger – and Daniel felt he had crossed a line, crossed a point when friendship ends and understanding begins.
He opened the box.
A battered, brown aviator hat. A photograph. A few journals. Scraps of paper, scrawled in familiar, but not, handwriting. A long, soft, tattered yellow scarf.
He peered at the photo and felt a surge of jealousy as he gazed upon the young face of his friend, his face alive, his manner easy and full of laughter as he leaned against a stocky, equally jovial male, their arms slung over each others shoulders in an intimate gesture of friendship and closeness.
He wanted that closeness, that life that dwelled in that handsome face, but he had never gotten it – and now, maybe he never would.
He leaned closer to the photo, as if to fall within it and be swept up in that time, that moment, that place –
To feel a part of what they felt, to be close to them both and share their easy camaraderie.
The stocky man with the dark, thick mustache and twinkling eyes was wearing a battered, brown aviator cap, and a flowing yellow scarf flung casually around his throat.
Daniel bit his lip and let his eyes drift over it, before seizing the topmost journal and flipping. He had gotten one of those bad, funny feelings – and after reading a few passages, his bad feeling was confirmed.
His heart thumped in misery and an odd fierce joy; miserable for his friend and happy that he would never have to witness that deep closeness that would never be his.
‘He’s gone.’ The journal read, its loopy scrawl a slash of rage and grief; smears along the pages indicating that Mac/Jack had wept as he wrote this.
Daniel’s heart clenched in guilt and horror as he read on, the sheer agony of the writer blasting from the tattered pages as Jack Dalton’s death was relived in horrifying technicolor.
His death sudden, sweeping and over.
‘I’m not going to write anymore.’ The journal declared, the strokes deeper and more angry as it went. ‘The pain is too much... What’s the point anyway?! We’re dead, we’re all dead – and the best of us – ’
It ended there. Heart thudding in dizzy sorrow, Daniel peered at the photograph that had made him so jealous, angry and lonely – the two friends, one of them dead, one of them soon to be, if not already – and felt his heart clench in grief for the man he had never known. He flipped it to the back to read the inscription, before closing the box and going back upstairs.
That inscription burned in his mind as the weeks and months flew by, with still no word.
‘To Mac – the best friend a guy ever had! Keep those ideas coming, Genius – and know that the skies are always friendly with me! Friends forever, man!
Your Fly-By-Night Messenger – Jack Dalton’
And of course, for the Angel buffs - one just for you guys! *Squishes you all!*
Fandom: Angel
Title: One Cross
Pairing(s): Angel/Wesley
Rating: NC-17 (Just in case)
Warnings: Angst, Darkness
Wordcount: 400
His silence was so damning, so telling; the young man he had been was gone now, most likely never to return, and the fact that he had been the cause, the main factor in this conversion, made him ache with guilt and horror – and only increased his unease.
So he followed him.
Where would this new man go, what would he do?
And the answers were chilling and heartbreaking –
He had become a mercenary, a bounty hunter. The rogue demon hunter he had always claimed to be – and the ease and coldness with which he dispatched his enemies and targets made Angel cold from within.
He had made him this way.
He was always good at making monsters, but this was more eerie and horrible, because this monster was still a man.
The darkness that swarmed and chattered about Wesley’s form almost seemed to chuckle and writhe with ecstasy, as he carried on about his gruesome business; his utter ruthlessness and rage a deep pain that stabbed at Angel over and over – his soul crying out for the man he had been, what had been lost in the past.
He was careful not to get to close.
The Darkness sucked at Angel’s soul as if to look for a new home, it’s swimming black hate a shield, a cross to be born by the man it had claimed as it’s own.
At the end of the night, he faded back to the hotel, the image of Wesley’s last target burning in his mind; how he screamed for mercy, his terror of the man that stood before him palpable and sickening.
And Wes had killed him anyway, his face shuttered in indifference, his eyes dancing with the flat darkness that he wore like a cloak.
But worst of all was what he had to say to his quarry once the deed was done.
‘You should have remembered to keep your business out of L.A.’
Then he had wiped his sword off on the creature’s shirt, before strolling away – his eyes ahead of him, focused on the next murder-for-hire.
Yes, it was a cross. Wesley bore it with the air of a man who had no idea the burden that he carried – but he was not the only one to carry it.
Angel bore it too, and the weight of it boiled his soul and seared his flesh, as surely as if Wes had pressed its horror against him.
It was one burden that he took without complaint –
But he prayed that he would get the man he once knew back.
A prayer he knew would never be answered.
Mandy aka PhoenixDragon
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