Story Bit.
Aug. 19th, 2005 11:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indiana_jTitle: But I Will Remain
Universe: Babylon 5
Characters: You'll see. ;)
I fly a starship across the Universe divide
And when I reach the other side
I'll find a place to rest my spirit if I can
Perhaps I may become a highwayman again
Or I may simply be a single drop of rain
But I will remain
And I'll be back again, and again and again and again and again ("The Highwayman" by Johnny Cash)
The ship hummed and sung in its own language as it ran on autopilot. The man--too proud to slump in his seat even through his dieing hours—-kept his eyes on the sky that lay only inches away.
Inches and yet it felt like miles away, thanks to the best technology that they had. It cradled him as he waited, watching distant planets and suns wink at him in the nearly black backdrop. If he squinted, the sky could almost be said to be not-quite black. More like a darkish, purple blue that fascinated him because it faded whenever he looked too closely.
Breathing was starting to hurt and he let his eyes flutter shut for a second. Only a second, he promised himself, because he needed to keep watch. He had been promised, after all, and he doubted the keeper of that promise was one to break them.
Chuckling a little, he let his mind wander to the people he had left behind. Was it worth it? This early death? Following so closely, in his eyes, of the deaths of two friends?
Without a doubt, his mind, still sharp, reminded him even before the previous question had faded in his mind. He would have been dead twenty years before if not for this. Twenty years he would not have had with his wife or his son or his friends, as spread out as they all were now.
And the things the did…oh, the things they had done. Years from now, they’d just be interesting side notes in history but he thought he was proud of what he had done. Of what they all had accomplished, together and alone.
Not proud, perhaps, of everything but satisfied. Even as a part of him mourned for another twenty years he could have had at his wife’s side, watching their son grow older. That same part that balked at not being able to stare up at the universe’s sky, the same sky that had seduced him into this life while he was a child. And while not young anymore, he certainly wasn’t old and there were so many adventures left to him.
And then suddenly a beautiful golden light that reminded him of that peaceful, but inevitable, sensation he had felt all those years ago, filled the cabin of the ship. That feeling when he had been dieing—no, after he had died—from that long fall. Familiar, peaceful but still scary.
But he’d never been one to run just because he was afraid. No, not him. Not Star Killer.
He may have said something as he moved towards the light—a part of him could not help but laugh at the slight cliché—but he couldn’t remember that.
All he could remember was thinking, Will I remain? Will I be back again?
And that voice, that friend that had left with the Shadows and the Vorlons, suddenly laughed and replied. John Sheridan, men like you will always remain throughout the centuries. You will ALWAYS be alive.
TITLE: Delivery
Universe: X-Men/Higherlander
Characters: Cable, Methos
The blue's bar was a typical of its type--flickering lights and a dusky hue to everything from the smoke of cigarettes--and the customers were typical blue's bar regulars. Which was why Nathan Dayspring Summers was feeling distinctly out of place. Ignoring the occasional curious glance shot his way, he concentrated on his drink with the intensity of a man who wanted to be left alone.
The regulars left him alone and the only one who bothered to come over now and again was the old bartender. This suited Nate just fine.
A lead had brought him here or else he never would have stepped in this place. Not only was it an unknown entity--though by now he knew were all the emergency doors were, how many people were in the bar and how many were working--but, well, he had never been a fan of the music style.
Nate glanced at the door as it swung open again and relaxed but not by much. Seems his informant had been correct.
Taking another drag from his drink, he watched the man head towards the bar, greeting the few sitting up there with an air of aged familiarity.
He looked the same, Nate noted, and he shouldn't have considering the last time he had seem him was after Redd and Slym’s sudden departure.
Thousands of years into the future.
~~~
He had been crying, though he wouldn't admit it. Face screwed up as tightly as he could make it, he trudged down the dusty road, attempting to find whatever remained of people that were familiar to him.
A man had passed in a tattered old jacket, only a slight stiffness in the way he walked that spoke of a weapon. Hidden well but still there.
He'd stopped and stared at Nate, who was ignoring him, with curious eyes.
Stopping, he had turned back around, and snapped out a curse which had just earned him a soft laugh in return.
"You look lost, boy," the man remarked in an accent that Nate just could not place.
"I know where I am."
"But do you know where you're going?"
Nathan had reached out then with his telepathy, despite knowing that Redd would have had his head for it. But Redd and Slym were gone, he thought bitterly, and all he had left was their teachings. Why not use them?
As soon as his mind had touched the strangers, he recoiled instantly.
"A telepath?" murmured the stranger, crouching down as the boy sank to the ground. "Teach you to touch things that don't belong to you. My name is Adam."
"No, it's not," Nate gritted out.
The man calling himself Adam just smiled. "No, it's not, but it's what I call myself and that's all that matters."
"Old," he whimpered, his mind overloaded with just a few of the things he had seen.
"Yes, old and tired and lonely." Adam thought for a second and sighed. "Come then, boy--"
"Nathan."
"Nathan it is then. Come, let us get you home."
~~~
Nate blinked as Adam glanced at him and stared, just for a second. Shrugging, he turned towards the barkeeper and ordered his usual.
Mucking around with the past when the future he had known would never come to fruition was a bad idea and something he avoided doing at all costs. But he was simply observing and watching.
And he had a delivery to make.
---
"Adam, this was left for you."
Adam Pierson, only known as Methos to a few, glanced over at Joe curiously. "Present for me? I'm touched."
Joe snorted. "Just read the damn thing and remember to pay your tab this time. I have a bar to run, even if you like to think you can wait months between paying me."
"What are friends for?" Methos muttered, opening the letter.
He stared for a second, the color leaving his face, before neatly tucking it into his pocket.
"Something wrong?"
"No, just...unexpected and I'll have another round," he replied, scanning the bar. There had been someone there he hadn't recognized a minute ago--but felt like he should have--but he was gone. “You might just want to keep them coming for a little while.”
And in his pocket the words ~Apocalypse is dead~ seemed heavy and light all at once.
TITLE: No Such Thing
Universe: Alien(s)
Characters: You'll see. ;)
"Mommy mommy mommy mommy!"
Rushing into the room, barely waiting for the door to finish sliding open, the woman dropped next to the bed. The little girl wasted no time in scurrying over the bedcovers to wrap her arms around her neck.
"Shhh, sweetie, what is it?"
"Monsters!"
"Monsters?"
"Under my bed," she sniffled, gripping tighter and burying her head into the soft folds of her mother's neck.
"Honey, there are no such thing as monsters," she soothed, rubbing her daughter's back gently.
"Are TOO!"
With a sigh too soft for the crying girl to hear, Ellen shifts, bringing them both back up onto the bed, neatly avoiding the large numbers of stuffed animals on the bed.
"So, where are these monsters of yours?"
"Under the bed!" came the muffled, sniffly reply.
Gently unwrapping herself, the older woman activated the lights. "Come and take a look," she said, picking up the covers. "No monsters here."
It took nearly forever but her daughter was finally soothed enough to go back to bed and hopefully sleep.
Stepping out of the room as the door shut behind her, Ellen Ripley groaned and rubbed her neck. One of these days her daughter would outgrow the fear of monsters and hopefully it wouldn't grow worse while she was gone.
Besides, there were no such things as monsters.
Title: The Flower
Universe: Batman Begins
Character: Yadda yadda yadda. ;)
Cursing under their breaths, the fire and rescue teams stared at what remained of the famous (more infamous these days) subway line that ran into the heart of Gotham.
It would take years to repair the structural damage that had taken place less than an hour ago. Years of work, sweat, money and labor.
One of the cops glanced over at the body bag on the ground and kicked it slightly. They had been made aware of the score, that the terrorist responsible for the mad house that parts of Gotham had become and this mess had been the only person on the train when Gordon had brought it down.
"Guys, ready to take this piece of shit down to the morgue?" he called over his shoulder to the two men waiting quietly behind him.
They nodded and moved past him, gently moving the remains onto a stretcher.
Shrugging, the officer turned back--Gordon had a story to tell and he wanted to hear the rest of it.
As the doors closed behind the one man and his partner climbed up front, the glanced at each other and just nodded.
Driving away from the scene, the only color on their uniform an unnoticed blue flower, they headed home.
TITLE: Only Batman Lives Here
Universe: Batman Begins/Batman Beyond
Characters: Bruce Wayne/Rachel Dawes
Bruce Wayne shifted and grimaced just a little. Being Batman had affected him, physically, in ways he had not expected. Arthritis, for one thing. Back slightly hunched from old age, relying on a cane to get around...he shook his head. To be honest, he had never thought he'd live past 40, not with the kind of life he lived.
There was only so much abuse a human could put their body through, armor encasing Batsuit or no, before it finally gave up. There were days when he wondered if it would have been better had he died younger, instead of his still sharp mind and want for justice being stuck in an aging body.
If he hadn't found Terry...
Bruce glanced down at as Ace, his other faithful companion--who was currently sound asleep under the restaurant chair.
Who in his right mind, in Gotham, would tell Bruce Wayne that he couldn't bring his dog in with him? Never mind that the Wayne's heyday was long over, he was still a fading reminder of day's past for the newly rich and famous.
Glancing up, he tightened his hand on his cane as he saw his dinner guest approach with the waiter.
"Here we are, madam," the man cooed, pulling out her chair.
Bruce stood slowly and held out his hand. "Rachel, it's...good to see you again."
Rachel Dawes, the kind of woman that would haunt a man's dreams. If he allowed himself to dream, that was. It wasn't often he even allowed himself to think of her, the memory was still too painful even after all these years.
Different pain then what he felt when he thought of his father and mother but pain nonetheless.
And Batman didn't have time to feel that kind of pain.
"Bruce." She smiled at him, still as pretty as the day she had left the burnt remains of Wayne Manor and him behind, and leaned over to kiss him lightly on the cheek.
He forced his beating heart to calm down. He was Bruce Wayne, damn it, and Bruce Wayne did not get sweaty palms.
"You look good."
Some people didn't age well, he often thought he was amongst that group, but some people...
Rachel laughed softly. "I'm old, Bruce," she teased, reaching up to play with the hair that had settled on salt and pepper instead of going white like his had. Then again, flinging yourself from rooftops probably had that kind of affect on you.
Bruce shrugged lightly. "Doesn't make it any less true."
"How are you?"
"...I'm old."
They shared a small smile and he felt something in him relax that hadn't been relaxed in years.
Not since she'd left.
~~~
"I'll walk you out to your car," Bruce insisted, offering her his arm.
"I don't remember you being this much of a gentleman when you were younger," Rachel responded, sliding her arm through his. "Maybe getting old has done some good for you."
"Probably not but then you were the one who told me that it wasn't who I am but my actions...or something like that."
"Not who you are underneath but what you do that matters," she corrected slightly. Staring at her car, she turned her head towards him.
"I've seen...him on the news," she murmured, eyes going closed. "I know you're not the one in there."
Bruce stayed silent, knowing that Rachel was smart enough to know what his answer would have been without him needing to say it.
"You stopped being him physically, Bruce, but you're still him inside." The look Rachel sent him was sorrowful. "I was right, wasn't I? About the boy I knew all those years ago?"
"Even if you weren't right then, you would be now. I don't think I could ever go back to being who I was before, not after everything."
All the scars, mentally and emotionally. Barbara, Robin, Alfred...even Ra's al Ghul. Bruce Wayne as a single entity had died so many years before.
Now only Batman lived in the broken shell of the last survivor of the Wayne family and only he walked the empty hallways of Wayne manor.
She gazed at him for a few seconds and then kissed his cheek again. "I've missed you, Bruce...and I always will."
Universe: Babylon 5
Characters: You'll see. ;)
I fly a starship across the Universe divide
And when I reach the other side
I'll find a place to rest my spirit if I can
Perhaps I may become a highwayman again
Or I may simply be a single drop of rain
But I will remain
And I'll be back again, and again and again and again and again ("The Highwayman" by Johnny Cash)
The ship hummed and sung in its own language as it ran on autopilot. The man--too proud to slump in his seat even through his dieing hours—-kept his eyes on the sky that lay only inches away.
Inches and yet it felt like miles away, thanks to the best technology that they had. It cradled him as he waited, watching distant planets and suns wink at him in the nearly black backdrop. If he squinted, the sky could almost be said to be not-quite black. More like a darkish, purple blue that fascinated him because it faded whenever he looked too closely.
Breathing was starting to hurt and he let his eyes flutter shut for a second. Only a second, he promised himself, because he needed to keep watch. He had been promised, after all, and he doubted the keeper of that promise was one to break them.
Chuckling a little, he let his mind wander to the people he had left behind. Was it worth it? This early death? Following so closely, in his eyes, of the deaths of two friends?
Without a doubt, his mind, still sharp, reminded him even before the previous question had faded in his mind. He would have been dead twenty years before if not for this. Twenty years he would not have had with his wife or his son or his friends, as spread out as they all were now.
And the things the did…oh, the things they had done. Years from now, they’d just be interesting side notes in history but he thought he was proud of what he had done. Of what they all had accomplished, together and alone.
Not proud, perhaps, of everything but satisfied. Even as a part of him mourned for another twenty years he could have had at his wife’s side, watching their son grow older. That same part that balked at not being able to stare up at the universe’s sky, the same sky that had seduced him into this life while he was a child. And while not young anymore, he certainly wasn’t old and there were so many adventures left to him.
And then suddenly a beautiful golden light that reminded him of that peaceful, but inevitable, sensation he had felt all those years ago, filled the cabin of the ship. That feeling when he had been dieing—no, after he had died—from that long fall. Familiar, peaceful but still scary.
But he’d never been one to run just because he was afraid. No, not him. Not Star Killer.
He may have said something as he moved towards the light—a part of him could not help but laugh at the slight cliché—but he couldn’t remember that.
All he could remember was thinking, Will I remain? Will I be back again?
And that voice, that friend that had left with the Shadows and the Vorlons, suddenly laughed and replied. John Sheridan, men like you will always remain throughout the centuries. You will ALWAYS be alive.
TITLE: Delivery
Universe: X-Men/Higherlander
Characters: Cable, Methos
The blue's bar was a typical of its type--flickering lights and a dusky hue to everything from the smoke of cigarettes--and the customers were typical blue's bar regulars. Which was why Nathan Dayspring Summers was feeling distinctly out of place. Ignoring the occasional curious glance shot his way, he concentrated on his drink with the intensity of a man who wanted to be left alone.
The regulars left him alone and the only one who bothered to come over now and again was the old bartender. This suited Nate just fine.
A lead had brought him here or else he never would have stepped in this place. Not only was it an unknown entity--though by now he knew were all the emergency doors were, how many people were in the bar and how many were working--but, well, he had never been a fan of the music style.
Nate glanced at the door as it swung open again and relaxed but not by much. Seems his informant had been correct.
Taking another drag from his drink, he watched the man head towards the bar, greeting the few sitting up there with an air of aged familiarity.
He looked the same, Nate noted, and he shouldn't have considering the last time he had seem him was after Redd and Slym’s sudden departure.
Thousands of years into the future.
~~~
He had been crying, though he wouldn't admit it. Face screwed up as tightly as he could make it, he trudged down the dusty road, attempting to find whatever remained of people that were familiar to him.
A man had passed in a tattered old jacket, only a slight stiffness in the way he walked that spoke of a weapon. Hidden well but still there.
He'd stopped and stared at Nate, who was ignoring him, with curious eyes.
Stopping, he had turned back around, and snapped out a curse which had just earned him a soft laugh in return.
"You look lost, boy," the man remarked in an accent that Nate just could not place.
"I know where I am."
"But do you know where you're going?"
Nathan had reached out then with his telepathy, despite knowing that Redd would have had his head for it. But Redd and Slym were gone, he thought bitterly, and all he had left was their teachings. Why not use them?
As soon as his mind had touched the strangers, he recoiled instantly.
"A telepath?" murmured the stranger, crouching down as the boy sank to the ground. "Teach you to touch things that don't belong to you. My name is Adam."
"No, it's not," Nate gritted out.
The man calling himself Adam just smiled. "No, it's not, but it's what I call myself and that's all that matters."
"Old," he whimpered, his mind overloaded with just a few of the things he had seen.
"Yes, old and tired and lonely." Adam thought for a second and sighed. "Come then, boy--"
"Nathan."
"Nathan it is then. Come, let us get you home."
~~~
Nate blinked as Adam glanced at him and stared, just for a second. Shrugging, he turned towards the barkeeper and ordered his usual.
Mucking around with the past when the future he had known would never come to fruition was a bad idea and something he avoided doing at all costs. But he was simply observing and watching.
And he had a delivery to make.
---
"Adam, this was left for you."
Adam Pierson, only known as Methos to a few, glanced over at Joe curiously. "Present for me? I'm touched."
Joe snorted. "Just read the damn thing and remember to pay your tab this time. I have a bar to run, even if you like to think you can wait months between paying me."
"What are friends for?" Methos muttered, opening the letter.
He stared for a second, the color leaving his face, before neatly tucking it into his pocket.
"Something wrong?"
"No, just...unexpected and I'll have another round," he replied, scanning the bar. There had been someone there he hadn't recognized a minute ago--but felt like he should have--but he was gone. “You might just want to keep them coming for a little while.”
And in his pocket the words ~Apocalypse is dead~ seemed heavy and light all at once.
TITLE: No Such Thing
Universe: Alien(s)
Characters: You'll see. ;)
"Mommy mommy mommy mommy!"
Rushing into the room, barely waiting for the door to finish sliding open, the woman dropped next to the bed. The little girl wasted no time in scurrying over the bedcovers to wrap her arms around her neck.
"Shhh, sweetie, what is it?"
"Monsters!"
"Monsters?"
"Under my bed," she sniffled, gripping tighter and burying her head into the soft folds of her mother's neck.
"Honey, there are no such thing as monsters," she soothed, rubbing her daughter's back gently.
"Are TOO!"
With a sigh too soft for the crying girl to hear, Ellen shifts, bringing them both back up onto the bed, neatly avoiding the large numbers of stuffed animals on the bed.
"So, where are these monsters of yours?"
"Under the bed!" came the muffled, sniffly reply.
Gently unwrapping herself, the older woman activated the lights. "Come and take a look," she said, picking up the covers. "No monsters here."
It took nearly forever but her daughter was finally soothed enough to go back to bed and hopefully sleep.
Stepping out of the room as the door shut behind her, Ellen Ripley groaned and rubbed her neck. One of these days her daughter would outgrow the fear of monsters and hopefully it wouldn't grow worse while she was gone.
Besides, there were no such things as monsters.
Title: The Flower
Universe: Batman Begins
Character: Yadda yadda yadda. ;)
Cursing under their breaths, the fire and rescue teams stared at what remained of the famous (more infamous these days) subway line that ran into the heart of Gotham.
It would take years to repair the structural damage that had taken place less than an hour ago. Years of work, sweat, money and labor.
One of the cops glanced over at the body bag on the ground and kicked it slightly. They had been made aware of the score, that the terrorist responsible for the mad house that parts of Gotham had become and this mess had been the only person on the train when Gordon had brought it down.
"Guys, ready to take this piece of shit down to the morgue?" he called over his shoulder to the two men waiting quietly behind him.
They nodded and moved past him, gently moving the remains onto a stretcher.
Shrugging, the officer turned back--Gordon had a story to tell and he wanted to hear the rest of it.
As the doors closed behind the one man and his partner climbed up front, the glanced at each other and just nodded.
Driving away from the scene, the only color on their uniform an unnoticed blue flower, they headed home.
TITLE: Only Batman Lives Here
Universe: Batman Begins/Batman Beyond
Characters: Bruce Wayne/Rachel Dawes
Bruce Wayne shifted and grimaced just a little. Being Batman had affected him, physically, in ways he had not expected. Arthritis, for one thing. Back slightly hunched from old age, relying on a cane to get around...he shook his head. To be honest, he had never thought he'd live past 40, not with the kind of life he lived.
There was only so much abuse a human could put their body through, armor encasing Batsuit or no, before it finally gave up. There were days when he wondered if it would have been better had he died younger, instead of his still sharp mind and want for justice being stuck in an aging body.
If he hadn't found Terry...
Bruce glanced down at as Ace, his other faithful companion--who was currently sound asleep under the restaurant chair.
Who in his right mind, in Gotham, would tell Bruce Wayne that he couldn't bring his dog in with him? Never mind that the Wayne's heyday was long over, he was still a fading reminder of day's past for the newly rich and famous.
Glancing up, he tightened his hand on his cane as he saw his dinner guest approach with the waiter.
"Here we are, madam," the man cooed, pulling out her chair.
Bruce stood slowly and held out his hand. "Rachel, it's...good to see you again."
Rachel Dawes, the kind of woman that would haunt a man's dreams. If he allowed himself to dream, that was. It wasn't often he even allowed himself to think of her, the memory was still too painful even after all these years.
Different pain then what he felt when he thought of his father and mother but pain nonetheless.
And Batman didn't have time to feel that kind of pain.
"Bruce." She smiled at him, still as pretty as the day she had left the burnt remains of Wayne Manor and him behind, and leaned over to kiss him lightly on the cheek.
He forced his beating heart to calm down. He was Bruce Wayne, damn it, and Bruce Wayne did not get sweaty palms.
"You look good."
Some people didn't age well, he often thought he was amongst that group, but some people...
Rachel laughed softly. "I'm old, Bruce," she teased, reaching up to play with the hair that had settled on salt and pepper instead of going white like his had. Then again, flinging yourself from rooftops probably had that kind of affect on you.
Bruce shrugged lightly. "Doesn't make it any less true."
"How are you?"
"...I'm old."
They shared a small smile and he felt something in him relax that hadn't been relaxed in years.
Not since she'd left.
~~~
"I'll walk you out to your car," Bruce insisted, offering her his arm.
"I don't remember you being this much of a gentleman when you were younger," Rachel responded, sliding her arm through his. "Maybe getting old has done some good for you."
"Probably not but then you were the one who told me that it wasn't who I am but my actions...or something like that."
"Not who you are underneath but what you do that matters," she corrected slightly. Staring at her car, she turned her head towards him.
"I've seen...him on the news," she murmured, eyes going closed. "I know you're not the one in there."
Bruce stayed silent, knowing that Rachel was smart enough to know what his answer would have been without him needing to say it.
"You stopped being him physically, Bruce, but you're still him inside." The look Rachel sent him was sorrowful. "I was right, wasn't I? About the boy I knew all those years ago?"
"Even if you weren't right then, you would be now. I don't think I could ever go back to being who I was before, not after everything."
All the scars, mentally and emotionally. Barbara, Robin, Alfred...even Ra's al Ghul. Bruce Wayne as a single entity had died so many years before.
Now only Batman lived in the broken shell of the last survivor of the Wayne family and only he walked the empty hallways of Wayne manor.
She gazed at him for a few seconds and then kissed his cheek again. "I've missed you, Bruce...and I always will."