(no subject)
Oct. 14th, 2004 10:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
helsinkibabyYou know you're having a crappy day when you wake up feeling sick and instead of walking it off, you feel even worse, so much so that even the prospect of your favourite Highlander episode ever ever ever (Timeless since you ask) being repeated that afternoon cannot move you from your lethargic state.
That being said, all kinds of fic.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writers_choice and their Spy challenge, I have Sports Night fic.
Title: Spy Games
Fandom: Sports Night
Pairing: Dan/Natalie, Jeremy/Natalie
Rating: PG, angst
Word Count: 510
Notes: For the LiveJournal writer’s choice spy challenge.
>*<*>*<
He should not be doing this. Jeremy knows this. He should absolutely not be doing this.
(It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong. He’s just waiting outside Natalie’s apartment, waiting for her to come home.)
It’s not like he wants to see her about anything in particular. Just that he wants to see her. He misses her, misses her smile, the conversations they used to have.
(He broke up with her, not once, not twice, but three times, and the most recent time, she told him, with tears running down her face, that this time, if he walked out on her, it was over for good. He hadn’t looked back. Not until today.)
She looked good today, happy, a smile on her face that he hadn’t seen for far too long, and it made him remember how good things were between them, made him reconsider, think how hasty he was to throw what they had away. He’d commented on it, asked her how she was, but she hadn’t exactly been forthcoming in her answer.
(She’d told him that he had no right to ask those kind of questions, that he forfeited that claim when he broke her heart not once, not twice, but three times.)
He’s not doing anything wrong, sitting here in his car, waiting for her.
(Even if lurking here, in his car, on the street, in the dark, like some crazed stalker, could very well get him arrested.)
He sits up straight when he sees her walking down the street, sits up straighter still, heart quickening when he realises she’s not alone.
She’s with Dan.
(She’s looking up at the man at her side, her arms looped through his, and she’s staring at him like he hung the moon. What’s more, he’s looking at her the same way.)
As he watches, they reach the steps of Natalie’s apartment, and he waits for Dan to kiss her on the cheek, then turn and walk away.
(He kisses her all right, but not on the cheek.)
His lips on hers, his hands wander up and down Natalie’s back, her arms winding around her neck, and when she looks up at him, her smile is brighter than the street lamp they’re standing under.
(He remembers when she used to look at him that way.)
Dan says something that makes her laugh, swatting at his shoulder, but it mustn’t be too bad, because she extends her hand to him, tilting her head in unmistakeable invitation. Evidently, Dan accepts, slipping his hand into hers, and they walk into the apartment together.
(Once upon a time, he used to do that.)
He knows that he should leave, knows that this is not his place anymore. He shouldn’t torture himself by looking at her windows, watching the lights go on, watching the lights go off, imagining just what they’re doing behind those blinds.
(He shouldn’t, but he does.)
He shouldn’t be here, skulking around the shadows, keeping track of her every move.
He’s not that kind of man.
He’s not a spy.
(And this is not a game.)
>*<*>*<
And for their picture challenge, there is this, which I think might make![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
medie happy, as it's another CSI/Highlander-ish fic.
Title: All Change
Fandom: CSI/Highlander(ish)
Pairing: Sara/OMC
Rating: PG
Notes: For the LiveJournal writer’s choice picture challenge.
>*<*>*<
It made Sam sad, walking through the woods near to where he grew up, remembering how they looked all those years ago. “This used to be forest,” he told the woman at his side, shaking his head. “Trees for miles around… they used to say that a squirrel could travel over a hundred miles without ever touching the ground…”
Sara’s hand squeezed his tightly, and when he looked down at her, he saw a teasing grin on her face. “And how long ago was this again?” she asked, and he tilted his head, chuckling slightly.
“Point taken,” he acknowledged. “I just can’t believe how things have changed.”
“You’ve lived in America for what? Three hundred years?” Sara pointed out. “You can’t expect everything to stay the same… you haven’t.”
Sam shrugged acceptance, knowing that it was true. Five hundred years of life, three centuries of which was spent in the New World had left their mark on him, little remaining of the man who had once walked these woods, not even the accent. “Still though…” he murmured. “No matter how long you live… you always think your childhood home will stay the same.”
It was only when he saw Sara’s face slam shut that he realised what he’d said, and he could have happily bitten off his tongue. Opening his mouth, he was ready to apologise, but she cut him off, looking around them pointedly. “You know, this place reminds me of home.” To hear her mention Tomales Bay so casually surprised him, as did the smile on her face when she spoke. “The woods above the lake… remember?”
He blinked, and it was as if time fell away, transporting him ten years into the past, from England to California, when he and another Immortal by the name of Jack Gordon had come to swords. The woods had rung to the sound of metal against metal, and Gordon’s Quickening had lit up the sky, throwing Sam flat on his back, and when he finally pulled himself up off the ground, he’d found himself looking into the wide, incredulous eyes of fifteen-year-old Sara Sidle.
She’d stared at him, too shocked to speak, too stunned to even move, and when he’d walked over to her, he did something that he’d never done in five hundred odd years.
He told her the whole truth, about everything.
Much to his surprise, she’d accepted it all without question, keeping his secret from the rest of the small community for the next two years until they went their separate ways, she to Harvard, he to another Californian town. They’d kept in touch, and somewhere between then and here, another miracle had happened.
He’d fallen in love with her, and she loved him back.
So he smiled as he brought her hand to his lips. “Yes,” he told her. “I remember.” Her fingers tightened in his grasp, and she grinned, looking all around her again.
“I like it here,” she decided, pointing off to the side with her free hand. “Look at those steps over there…”
The word “steps,” made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he knew what he was going to see before he turned around. He couldn’t stop himself from turning though, and then suddenly he was moving, heedless of having dropped Sara’s hand, not stopping until he was standing at the base of the steps, turning three hundred and sixty degrees, making sure of what he already knew.
“Sam?” Sara’s voice was very quiet, her hand on his arm equally as tentative. “What’s wrong?”
He looked down at her, into her concerned gaze, struck once again by her beauty, and how very, very young she was. How could explain this to her, he wondered? How would she react?
Finally, he reached down, took both her hands in his, and looked around one more time. “This is where I died,” he said simply.
“What?” She looked blank for a second, and then, light dawned. “Oh.”
Shock flitted across her face, so too did worry, the second emotion settling there, there and in the tightness of her hands in his. And he found himself telling what had never been told before; about the robbery, the knife, the pain lacing through his chest, knowing that he was dying. About waking up who-knew-how-long later, seeing the blood on his shirt, on the ground, too much blood for one to lose and live he knew, knowing that he’d been dead, but that he was now very much alive. Meeting Harold, the Immortal who had told him what he was, shown him how to wield a sword, how to survive.
“I never thought I’d be back here again,” he finished, in some amazement. “It hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Unlike everywhere else?” It was meant to be teasing, he knew, but he also knew that her smile didn’t reach her eyes, or anywhere near it, and she looked down, cheeks colouring, and not from the chill of the air around them.
And then it hit him, and he smiled.
“You know what though?” he asked, bringing one hand to her chin, lifting her face to his gaze. “Five hundred years… these woods and the ones in Tomales Bay… I’m starting to think that not all change is bad.”
Sara’s smile was further testament to that, as was how she stepped closer to him, slipping her arms around her waist, bringing her lips to his. And as she kissed him, Sam realised something else.
This might be the place that he’d died, but right now, he’d never felt more alive.
>*<*>*<
That being said, all kinds of fic.
For
writers_choice and their Spy challenge, I have Sports Night fic. Title: Spy Games
Fandom: Sports Night
Pairing: Dan/Natalie, Jeremy/Natalie
Rating: PG, angst
Word Count: 510
Notes: For the LiveJournal writer’s choice spy challenge.
>*<*>*<
He should not be doing this. Jeremy knows this. He should absolutely not be doing this.
(It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong. He’s just waiting outside Natalie’s apartment, waiting for her to come home.)
It’s not like he wants to see her about anything in particular. Just that he wants to see her. He misses her, misses her smile, the conversations they used to have.
(He broke up with her, not once, not twice, but three times, and the most recent time, she told him, with tears running down her face, that this time, if he walked out on her, it was over for good. He hadn’t looked back. Not until today.)
She looked good today, happy, a smile on her face that he hadn’t seen for far too long, and it made him remember how good things were between them, made him reconsider, think how hasty he was to throw what they had away. He’d commented on it, asked her how she was, but she hadn’t exactly been forthcoming in her answer.
(She’d told him that he had no right to ask those kind of questions, that he forfeited that claim when he broke her heart not once, not twice, but three times.)
He’s not doing anything wrong, sitting here in his car, waiting for her.
(Even if lurking here, in his car, on the street, in the dark, like some crazed stalker, could very well get him arrested.)
He sits up straight when he sees her walking down the street, sits up straighter still, heart quickening when he realises she’s not alone.
She’s with Dan.
(She’s looking up at the man at her side, her arms looped through his, and she’s staring at him like he hung the moon. What’s more, he’s looking at her the same way.)
As he watches, they reach the steps of Natalie’s apartment, and he waits for Dan to kiss her on the cheek, then turn and walk away.
(He kisses her all right, but not on the cheek.)
His lips on hers, his hands wander up and down Natalie’s back, her arms winding around her neck, and when she looks up at him, her smile is brighter than the street lamp they’re standing under.
(He remembers when she used to look at him that way.)
Dan says something that makes her laugh, swatting at his shoulder, but it mustn’t be too bad, because she extends her hand to him, tilting her head in unmistakeable invitation. Evidently, Dan accepts, slipping his hand into hers, and they walk into the apartment together.
(Once upon a time, he used to do that.)
He knows that he should leave, knows that this is not his place anymore. He shouldn’t torture himself by looking at her windows, watching the lights go on, watching the lights go off, imagining just what they’re doing behind those blinds.
(He shouldn’t, but he does.)
He shouldn’t be here, skulking around the shadows, keeping track of her every move.
He’s not that kind of man.
He’s not a spy.
(And this is not a game.)
>*<*>*<
And for their picture challenge, there is this, which I think might make
medie happy, as it's another CSI/Highlander-ish fic. Title: All Change
Fandom: CSI/Highlander(ish)
Pairing: Sara/OMC
Rating: PG
Notes: For the LiveJournal writer’s choice picture challenge.
>*<*>*<
It made Sam sad, walking through the woods near to where he grew up, remembering how they looked all those years ago. “This used to be forest,” he told the woman at his side, shaking his head. “Trees for miles around… they used to say that a squirrel could travel over a hundred miles without ever touching the ground…”
Sara’s hand squeezed his tightly, and when he looked down at her, he saw a teasing grin on her face. “And how long ago was this again?” she asked, and he tilted his head, chuckling slightly.
“Point taken,” he acknowledged. “I just can’t believe how things have changed.”
“You’ve lived in America for what? Three hundred years?” Sara pointed out. “You can’t expect everything to stay the same… you haven’t.”
Sam shrugged acceptance, knowing that it was true. Five hundred years of life, three centuries of which was spent in the New World had left their mark on him, little remaining of the man who had once walked these woods, not even the accent. “Still though…” he murmured. “No matter how long you live… you always think your childhood home will stay the same.”
It was only when he saw Sara’s face slam shut that he realised what he’d said, and he could have happily bitten off his tongue. Opening his mouth, he was ready to apologise, but she cut him off, looking around them pointedly. “You know, this place reminds me of home.” To hear her mention Tomales Bay so casually surprised him, as did the smile on her face when she spoke. “The woods above the lake… remember?”
He blinked, and it was as if time fell away, transporting him ten years into the past, from England to California, when he and another Immortal by the name of Jack Gordon had come to swords. The woods had rung to the sound of metal against metal, and Gordon’s Quickening had lit up the sky, throwing Sam flat on his back, and when he finally pulled himself up off the ground, he’d found himself looking into the wide, incredulous eyes of fifteen-year-old Sara Sidle.
She’d stared at him, too shocked to speak, too stunned to even move, and when he’d walked over to her, he did something that he’d never done in five hundred odd years.
He told her the whole truth, about everything.
Much to his surprise, she’d accepted it all without question, keeping his secret from the rest of the small community for the next two years until they went their separate ways, she to Harvard, he to another Californian town. They’d kept in touch, and somewhere between then and here, another miracle had happened.
He’d fallen in love with her, and she loved him back.
So he smiled as he brought her hand to his lips. “Yes,” he told her. “I remember.” Her fingers tightened in his grasp, and she grinned, looking all around her again.
“I like it here,” she decided, pointing off to the side with her free hand. “Look at those steps over there…”
The word “steps,” made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he knew what he was going to see before he turned around. He couldn’t stop himself from turning though, and then suddenly he was moving, heedless of having dropped Sara’s hand, not stopping until he was standing at the base of the steps, turning three hundred and sixty degrees, making sure of what he already knew.
“Sam?” Sara’s voice was very quiet, her hand on his arm equally as tentative. “What’s wrong?”
He looked down at her, into her concerned gaze, struck once again by her beauty, and how very, very young she was. How could explain this to her, he wondered? How would she react?
Finally, he reached down, took both her hands in his, and looked around one more time. “This is where I died,” he said simply.
“What?” She looked blank for a second, and then, light dawned. “Oh.”
Shock flitted across her face, so too did worry, the second emotion settling there, there and in the tightness of her hands in his. And he found himself telling what had never been told before; about the robbery, the knife, the pain lacing through his chest, knowing that he was dying. About waking up who-knew-how-long later, seeing the blood on his shirt, on the ground, too much blood for one to lose and live he knew, knowing that he’d been dead, but that he was now very much alive. Meeting Harold, the Immortal who had told him what he was, shown him how to wield a sword, how to survive.
“I never thought I’d be back here again,” he finished, in some amazement. “It hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Unlike everywhere else?” It was meant to be teasing, he knew, but he also knew that her smile didn’t reach her eyes, or anywhere near it, and she looked down, cheeks colouring, and not from the chill of the air around them.
And then it hit him, and he smiled.
“You know what though?” he asked, bringing one hand to her chin, lifting her face to his gaze. “Five hundred years… these woods and the ones in Tomales Bay… I’m starting to think that not all change is bad.”
Sara’s smile was further testament to that, as was how she stepped closer to him, slipping her arms around her waist, bringing her lips to his. And as she kissed him, Sam realised something else.
This might be the place that he’d died, but right now, he’d never felt more alive.
>*<*>*<
