themanclion | [OOC] Writing Meme

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memes,
ooc

[OOC] Writing Meme

Stolen from most of Gene's flist, at this point:

Comment here, with any of your characters and any of my characters (mouseover for journal names), and I will write you a fic. Specifically, I will write you a fic wherein they have OFFSPRING - accidental, surrogate'd, adopted, completely clueless, whatever.

FOAR GRATE LULZ. Or just, y'know, crack.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Pick one! Or, y'know, more than one.

definitivestep/

lionofmanc

evengodsdo/

radiantsoldier

thatsortofaman/

trust_mistruth

torchwoodsheart/

superiorspectre

...I'd ask for Suzie/Tosh, but Tosh just flails so much in my head every time I think about doing so that I feel bad.

{{Playing off Beka's fic, in REALLY HORRIBLE WAYS. Quick and dirty and really obviously unbetaed.}}

It took the better part of a year before they could talk about Annie -- the better part of a year in which Sam was shell-shocked, and Gene drank (far away from Maya, of course... he wouldn't turn into his dad, not now or ever), and Maya herself grew increasingly sullen, rebellion in her eyes and strange bits of metal embedded in her skin like she wanted to set off every bleeding metal detector she passed.

He'd made a promise while Annie bled out on the ground between him and Sam, while he clutched at a pale and bloody hand and Sam pressed his hands to Annie's chest as though he could hold all the blood in himself. Every nightmare he'd ever had was reaching up from hell itself to wrap icy fingers around his brain, and he'd tried to avoid saying it at first, told her she'd be fine, but she gripped his hand and made him swear he would, and that was that.

He had to look after a girl he'd had no part in raising, had to be a father when his own made even the most dysfunctional father/child relationships look cheery by comparison.

Not like it mattered -- not like he could claim the title of 'Dad', anyway. That was all Sam, though a fat lot of good he did when half the time he looked at the girl and saw someone she wasn't, someone dead and gone.

Still, he had to do something, even if all he knew was how to shout at her when he caught her stealing his smokes, how to get her to school day in and day out, despite her best attempts at skiving off, how to glower disapprovingly at whatever bit of industrial hardware she'd chosen to shove through unsuspecting body parts this week.

He was no kind of father, that much he knew, but he tried.

The better part of a year passed with Maya slipping away from them both, until the night she'd found one of the flasks he'd secreted about the house, and he caught her with it raised to her lips, and that, that was one slight too many, every previous subversion of his authority boiling over into one giant mass in his brain. There were things Gene Sodding Hunt wouldn't put up with under his own roof, and that was just about number one on the list... Someone had to put some discipline into the little slag, and if it wasn't going to be Tyler, it was damn well going to be him.

"You thieving little..." The words came out in a snarl that was only barely human, and the world vanished in a haze as he crossed the room, one hand snatching the flask from her, and the other...

The other was caught, mid-strike.

"You want to hit something, Hunt?" Sam standing there, his eyes clear and bright for once, full of protective fury, his hand gripping Gene's wrist with all the strength of the nutter he was. "Because if you do, I'm right here."

Maya stared, eyes wide, and something in Gene's stomach clenched and bit down with tiny poisoned teeth, and he could no longer be sure if he was choking on bile or on his own shame. His hand clenched, relaxed, and he wrenched his arm free of Sam's grip with a snarl.

Sam stepped smoothly between him and Maya, accusation in his eyes, and was this what he'd come to? This?

He forced words out through gritted teeth, around Sam. "And what would your mum think, if she saw you like this? What would she think if she saw the whole filthy lot of us?"

"She'd think," Sam said, biting out each word, "that you need to leave, Hunt. She'd think you need to leave right now." But that wasn't where Gene's attention was... Behind Sam, Maya was muttering something, something he didn't quite catch, but which made Sam's back stiffen.

"And what was that, luv?"

"I said," Maya replied, tears in her voice, "that it doesn't fucking matter, does it? You won't talk about her, you won't do anything, either of you. All you do is you pretend she was never here, like she never even existed..."

Gene stepped back, under the weight of accusation from them both, the weight of Sam's shame joining his like the two together could crush the life out of everything in the room easy as squashing a bug.

Yeah, he should leave, quick as he could, before it got worse, before he started something worse than he could imagine, but even as he turned away, he found himself speaking.

"Your mum," he said, his voice rasping in his throat, "your mum was one of the best lady -- one of the best coppers that ever worked under me. Clever enough to make foxes look like a set of dunces, one and all, and..."

There was a noise from Sam, then, something choked and painful, but he didn't dare look back.

"...and she never once gave up on any case I put her on, not here or in Manchester, not ever..."

Sam would throw him out, he knew, any minute now, but there was no motion from behind him, and he kept talking.

He'd never been good at mending things, not with hands or words, but he talked until his throat ran dry and his hands knotted uselessly around the air and no one stopped him.

"He doesn't have to leave," Maya said from somewhere behind him, once the words were dead in his throat and there was no getting them back.

"No, luv," he said, still not looking back. "I do."

"Gene," Sam said, and then, "Don't."

"You saw what happened, Tyler. Best I do what Annie would've wanted."

There was no answer, and he really didn't expect one, but at his next step towards the door, a hand caught his arm once more.

Maybe it was enough. But then, maybe it wasn't.

Edited 2009-04-21 02:35 (UTC)