Fandom Ten
Title: Changing
Fandom: Blake's 7/Through the Dragon's Eye
Rating: PG
Word Count: 609
Summary: Deva escapes Gauda Prime unexpectedly ...
Notes: This is based entirely on the fact (like many a crossover!) that the same actor plays both parts.
It hurt to be shot.
He didn’t want to die. Not here. Not now. The Federation were coming, he didn’t want to think about what they’d do to his body. And if he didn’t die, that would be worse. Interrogation, torture …
And Blake was dead, Blake was gone … Deva didn’t know how he was going to cope with that. Not Blake, they needed Blake, they needed him … what was the world going to do without him, what would any of them do?
Oh, he wished he wasn’t here …
Blood pooled around him, wet and sticky, dying his skin. He was turning red, everything was turning red, red, red …
“Do you think he’s all right?”
“He doesn’t look very well. Sort of pinkish. He’s probably meant to be red.”
“Thank you, Boris, that’s a great help. Morris, go and fetch him some Pelamade, that will perk him up. Can you hear me?”
He forced his eyes open and thought he’d gone mad; the woman kneeling over him was purple all over, lips and hair and even the rims of her glasses. She had a bossy look but was holding his hand quite gently and he didn’t hurt any more.
“What’s your name?” she asked. “You just sort of … fell out of the sky. Were you flying?”
“I … yes,” he lied. “I was, I … ”
His hands were bright red. Skin all over, red as the blood that he’d been bleeding. He swallowed and felt sick, was glad when a green man came and handed him a drink. It tasted nice and he was able to sit up properly again.
He wasn’t on Gauda Prime. He was in a strange place, all bright colours and sort of … plastic. The purple lady smiled brightly at him.
“I’m Doris. That’s Morris, that’s Boris. What’s your name?”
He scrabbled for an alias and because their names rhymed, he snatched something out of the ether.
“Horace.”
“Horris?” Doris repeated and somehow he knew she’d changed the spelling of it in her mind. “That’s a nice name! You must have been sent to help us look after the Veetacore!”
And Deva - Horris now, he supposed - nodded his head because it was as good a story as any really. And he let them help him inside their little house and show him their things and watched Doris yell at Morris for keeping some sort of yellow snail and it was surprisingly easy to push away the idea that he had come from somewhere else entirely, that he didn’t know how he’d even got here, that Blake was dead and the rebellion was in tatters. He had something else to do, something important to protect Pelamar.
He worked so hard on forgetting that that he found he forgot other things too. He didn’t really notice forgetting them after a while. At one point, he faintly realised that he was forgetting how to read and it seemed important to try and remember that so he labelled everything in the Veetacore house - much to the general amusement of the others - but then the knowledge faded and it didn’t seem so important somehow.
He just wished the anger at the old injustices would go away. But somehow, it stayed, even when he couldn’t quite remember why he was angry any more. It lurked and surged at random moments and sometimes he couldn’t help letting it out. It wasn’t always safe to do that in Pelamar. Things could happen. Anger could make you change.
He changed.
But he’d already changed so much that going from Horris to Charn didn’t mean much any more.
Fandom: Blake's 7/Through the Dragon's Eye
Rating: PG
Word Count: 609
Summary: Deva escapes Gauda Prime unexpectedly ...
Notes: This is based entirely on the fact (like many a crossover!) that the same actor plays both parts.
It hurt to be shot.
He didn’t want to die. Not here. Not now. The Federation were coming, he didn’t want to think about what they’d do to his body. And if he didn’t die, that would be worse. Interrogation, torture …
And Blake was dead, Blake was gone … Deva didn’t know how he was going to cope with that. Not Blake, they needed Blake, they needed him … what was the world going to do without him, what would any of them do?
Oh, he wished he wasn’t here …
Blood pooled around him, wet and sticky, dying his skin. He was turning red, everything was turning red, red, red …
“Do you think he’s all right?”
“He doesn’t look very well. Sort of pinkish. He’s probably meant to be red.”
“Thank you, Boris, that’s a great help. Morris, go and fetch him some Pelamade, that will perk him up. Can you hear me?”
He forced his eyes open and thought he’d gone mad; the woman kneeling over him was purple all over, lips and hair and even the rims of her glasses. She had a bossy look but was holding his hand quite gently and he didn’t hurt any more.
“What’s your name?” she asked. “You just sort of … fell out of the sky. Were you flying?”
“I … yes,” he lied. “I was, I … ”
His hands were bright red. Skin all over, red as the blood that he’d been bleeding. He swallowed and felt sick, was glad when a green man came and handed him a drink. It tasted nice and he was able to sit up properly again.
He wasn’t on Gauda Prime. He was in a strange place, all bright colours and sort of … plastic. The purple lady smiled brightly at him.
“I’m Doris. That’s Morris, that’s Boris. What’s your name?”
He scrabbled for an alias and because their names rhymed, he snatched something out of the ether.
“Horace.”
“Horris?” Doris repeated and somehow he knew she’d changed the spelling of it in her mind. “That’s a nice name! You must have been sent to help us look after the Veetacore!”
And Deva - Horris now, he supposed - nodded his head because it was as good a story as any really. And he let them help him inside their little house and show him their things and watched Doris yell at Morris for keeping some sort of yellow snail and it was surprisingly easy to push away the idea that he had come from somewhere else entirely, that he didn’t know how he’d even got here, that Blake was dead and the rebellion was in tatters. He had something else to do, something important to protect Pelamar.
He worked so hard on forgetting that that he found he forgot other things too. He didn’t really notice forgetting them after a while. At one point, he faintly realised that he was forgetting how to read and it seemed important to try and remember that so he labelled everything in the Veetacore house - much to the general amusement of the others - but then the knowledge faded and it didn’t seem so important somehow.
He just wished the anger at the old injustices would go away. But somehow, it stayed, even when he couldn’t quite remember why he was angry any more. It lurked and surged at random moments and sometimes he couldn’t help letting it out. It wasn’t always safe to do that in Pelamar. Things could happen. Anger could make you change.
He changed.
But he’d already changed so much that going from Horris to Charn didn’t mean much any more.