"A Time To Cast Away Stones" - sadiekate (R)

Mar 10, 2006 20:37

Title: A Time To Cast Away Stones
Author: sadiekate
Characters/Pairings: Lamb, Keith, Veronica
Rating: R for language
Word Count: 1283
Spoilers: None, really.
Summary: Seasons that never happened to Don Lamb.
Notes: Written for both 5thingsthat and my Lamb table at fanfic100. Multi-tasking like whoa.


Winter
A time to be born, a time to die

Midwestern winters are bone-achingly cold, but Don Lamb’s mother doesn’t register the chill, even as the slush on the ground soaks through her too-worn boots.

She’s not surprised at the crowd. Her Don always was a popular boy. She sees his high-school classmates, wide-shouldered men with ghosts of the thin little boys they used to be flickering in their profiles. They’re all mostly married now, to interchangeable hometown girls with broad faces and broad voices. Don could have been married to any one of them, but she’s glad that he didn’t go that route. He’s a special boy, too great for common things.

She should have told him that more, should have encouraged him to take that job out in California. He had stayed for her, she knew that all along. She should have been stronger, not so desperate to hold on.

Because Don could have been a good cop anywhere. He’s a hero here, but that only gives her so much solace when they’re lowering him into the frozen ground.

Spring
A time to dance, a time to mourn

Lamb closed his eyes and pictured Veronica walking down the aisle. Springtime wedding, flowers in her hair.

Then he realized he should have kept them open so he could more easily dodge the plates she was hurling at his head.

“I hate you,” she swore at him, hefting up a serving platter. She was strong, but she still couldn’t fling it anywhere near him, even though she tossed it like a shotput. The momentum spun her and she fell to the ground, landing on the broken shards.

“Shit, Veronica,” he said, forgetting for a second that she had just walked in on him in their bedroom with a girl who most decidedly was not her. He crossed the room, forgetting that she might well actually kill him if he got close enough.

“Get away from me,” she hissed, her voice sharp with the promise of worse things to come.

“You’re bleeding,” he said helplessly.

“If you touch me, I’ll throw up,” she told him, ignoring his proffered hand.

She rose to her feet on her own power, dodging all the wreckage with a strange kind of grace. He closed his eyes and remembered the way she had danced at their wedding, just three months earlier. When he opened them again, the front door was ajar. She was gone.

Summer
A time to gain, a time to lose

Lamb couldn’t run like he used to.

He did alright, but he’d never play in the majors, even though he had been one of the most heavily recruited baseball players of his generation, even back in high-school.

One stupid dare, one jump off a quarry one summer, and his knee was fucked. He could live with the ache, push through it, but he’d never be fast again. The only reason even the farm teams would take him on was because he still had a hell of an arm.

It was a dusty summer day, some small California town, like any small town anywhere. His team had only managed to score once, because they sucked, but he was working on a no-hitter, so he’d take what he could get.

Then his pitch broke, and some chump managed to hit one out the park with a runner on base. The game was over, 2-1.

By the time Lamb had hit the showers, the area was mostly deserted. The smattering of fans were long-gone, off having family dinner. His teammates were at the bar. Besides the groundskeeper, there was one guy still there, sitting on the hood of a car. When Lamb got near, the guy rose and gave a little half wave.

“Excuse me,” he called.

“Yeah?” Lamb squinted at him, working a wad of chewing gum between his teeth.

“I just wanted to tell you, that was an excellent game,” he gushed. “You have a real talent.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Lamb rocked back on his heels, ready to take off as soon as this guy bugged off.

“I saw you play back when you were in high school,” the guys continued, running a hand unconsciously through his thinning hair. “I have family in the area, and they had talked you up. Real hometown hero. Best game I ever saw. I was sorry to hear about what happened to your leg.”

“Yeah, well - “

The guy cut Lamb off, apparently not noticing his discomfort.

“Listen, it’d be a real honor if I could buy you a beer.”

Lamb thought about it for a minute. The guy was a little overeager, but free beer was free beer.

“Sure,” he said, and extended his hand. The man grinned as he shook it.

“Keith Mars,” he introduced himself.

Fall
A time to gather stones together

Lamb stood on the lakeshore, waiting for the breeze to die down, for the ripples on the surface to dissipate. He could see the brilliant crimson and orange of the fall leaves reflected in the water, like a fire burned somewhere in its depths.

“All right, you find the flattest rock you can. It’s more aerodynamic that way.”

“What’s aerodynamic?”

“It’s pretty much just a fancy way of saying ‘flat’,” Lamb said. “Okay, now you stand with your legs angled a little, more to the side. Like this, see?”

“Okay.”

“You hold the rock in your hand like this, and you twist your whole body into the throw. You don’t do it overhanded, though; it’s kind of like a frisbee throw in reverse. You flick your wrist out. Do you see?” Lamb instructed.

“Uh-huh.”

“All right. I’m going to throw it now. Watch how I do it.”

He got back into the stance and turned, flicking his wrist expertly. The stone skimmed across the surface of the water, hopping 5, 6, 7 times.

“That was so cool, Daddy.”

“What can I say?” Lamb grinned. “I am awesome.”

He pointed at the pile of stones he had spent all morning gathering while he waited for his son’s mother to drop him off.

“All right, kiddo,” he says. “It’s your turn. Just remember how I showed you.”

Passing
A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late

Lamb counts the seconds passing by in units of heartbeats, each one ticking like a time bomb.

His chest protected by Kevlar and he takes a graze to the neck. Arterial blood spreading out warm all around him, like an infant’s swaddling blanket, with each pound of his heart.

He thinks about his mother, and how he should have taken the California job, brought her with him. She deserves more than this narrow town.

He thinks about pretty girls that he’ll never marry, not that he probably would have been very good at that. He had always been too good at looking for something better.

He thinks about beers he’ll never have, games he’ll never play, people he’ll never meet, places he’ll never see.

He thinks about the fact that he’ll never get to be a father, never get to prove that he could be better than his own.

Lamb thinks about how he never really grasped the concept of irony, but how he’s pretty sure now the fact that his pulse is killing him is pretty close to it.

sadiekate, round one

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