Fill: Half Shame, Half Glory [4b/?]hyde_the_bodyJune 13 2011, 21:42:48 UTC
There are little moments where James will forget something. He is not Charles in those moments, of that he is (fairly) certain. It would be tiny little things, like not remembering how a cell phone works, or something as equally trivial. He’ll be looking for his car, but will walk right on by it because he is looking for a make that has not been made for at least fifty years now. It’s always a little unnerving when he remembers forgetting.
It’s when he can’t remember his wife’s name, let alone that he’s married, that he knows he’s in trouble.
He’s being taken out for a night of pub crawling by Jennifer and Rose in order to unwind (and most certainly not wishing that Erik was there - Michael, he means Michael) when it happens. He hasn’t been drinking all that much, but there’s already a buzz in his head.
“So,” Rose starts, lowering her glass to the table. “How’s Anne-Marie?” James (he is James, he has to be James he is certain that he is James) draws a complete blank.
“I’m sorry, who?” To hear his own Scottish accent is at once a comfort and a terror. It doesn’t help that the buzzing, throbbing pressure in his head is rising to an almost-painful crescendo.
“Anne-Marie,” Jennifer says, her glass now to the side as well, giving James a look full of concern. “Your wife?”
His wife.
His wife.
James tries and tries to bring her picture to mind, her smell, the sound of her voice. Anything. All there is in his head is the noise and would it please quiet down? He brings his left hand to his temple, trying to massage away the pain so he can concentrate, so he can think... The noise, indecipherable before, explodes into clarity.
-not supposed to have any i’m driving tonight-
-wonder if he noticed my new-
-daaaamn look at that fine-
-glass even clean looks like-
-just one more i swear-
-stop looking at me like that-
-home to an empty house-
-swear to god just-
-act cool don’t-
-is he okay-
-isn’t that-
-james-
-james?-
“James!”
He blinks his dry eyes, pulling his hand away from his head as if it were made of red-hot iron instead of flesh.
“James, are you okay?” He gulps once and looks at Rose and Jennifer, both with a hand on his shoulders to steady him, pretty faces lines with worry. "Everything alright?”
“I need to go,” he says, standing on shaky legs. He slaps some money, God knows how much, on the table in an effort to cover his tab and leaves without a word. Thankfully, Jennifer and Rose -really strange- -not himself- -what’s wrong?- -i wonder if- don’t followed him out.
It’s easier to breathe out here. The voices are quieter. James laughs at the absurdity of it all. Maybe he really truly is mad. He doesn’t look where he’s going and bumps into someone -
-goddamn drunk can’t even walk in a straight line gonna get himself killed-
I just discovered this fill, and I never knew I needed this story in my life until now. It's so well done, and I'm conflicted about wanting to see how it turns out and never wanting it to end.
I know, right? The only problem is I can't write forever. Trust me, if I could, I would. I hope you can settle for at least another 5 parts, and I'll try not to fudge or rush the ending. Sounds fair?
Lovely pacing, it's just SLIPPING into the predicament easy as pancakes and dear god the tension. THE TENSION! I could rub my face all over the tension all freaking dayyyyyyyyyy
It’s when he can’t remember his wife’s name, let alone that he’s married, that he knows he’s in trouble.
He’s being taken out for a night of pub crawling by Jennifer and Rose in order to unwind (and most certainly not wishing that Erik was there - Michael, he means Michael) when it happens. He hasn’t been drinking all that much, but there’s already a buzz in his head.
“So,” Rose starts, lowering her glass to the table. “How’s Anne-Marie?”
James (he is James, he has to be James he is certain that he is James) draws a complete blank.
“I’m sorry, who?” To hear his own Scottish accent is at once a comfort and a terror. It doesn’t help that the buzzing, throbbing pressure in his head is rising to an almost-painful crescendo.
“Anne-Marie,” Jennifer says, her glass now to the side as well, giving James a look full of concern. “Your wife?”
His wife.
His wife.
James tries and tries to bring her picture to mind, her smell, the sound of her voice. Anything. All there is in his head is the noise and would it please quiet down? He brings his left hand to his temple, trying to massage away the pain so he can concentrate, so he can think...
The noise, indecipherable before, explodes into clarity.
-not supposed to have any i’m driving tonight-
-wonder if he noticed my new-
-daaaamn look at that fine-
-glass even clean looks like-
-just one more i swear-
-stop looking at me like that-
-home to an empty house-
-swear to god just-
-act cool don’t-
-is he okay-
-isn’t that-
-james-
-james?-
“James!”
He blinks his dry eyes, pulling his hand away from his head as if it were made of red-hot iron instead of flesh.
“James, are you okay?” He gulps once and looks at Rose and Jennifer, both with a hand on his shoulders to steady him, pretty faces lines with worry. "Everything alright?”
“I need to go,” he says, standing on shaky legs. He slaps some money, God knows how much, on the table in an effort to cover his tab and leaves without a word. Thankfully, Jennifer and Rose -really strange- -not himself- -what’s wrong?- -i wonder if- don’t followed him out.
It’s easier to breathe out here. The voices are quieter. James laughs at the absurdity of it all. Maybe he really truly is mad. He doesn’t look where he’s going and bumps into someone -
-goddamn drunk can’t even walk in a straight line gonna get himself killed-
-and mumbles an apology.
He really wishes Michael were here right now.
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This is spectacular.
All the little hints culminating in the powers finally bleeding over. And the forgetting. He definitely needs to find Michael.
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(As a side note: Your icon...<3____<3)
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Lovely pacing, it's just SLIPPING into the predicament easy as pancakes and dear god the tension. THE TENSION! I could rub my face all over the tension all freaking dayyyyyyyyyy
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