Jeremiah, What Became of Childhood
Title: What Became of Childhood
Fandom: Jeremiah
Pairing: None, just Markus-centered.
Rating: PG-13, a little swearing.
Warnings: Um...a little implication of child maim-age but nothing big or descriptive, promise. At least, I don’t think it is.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Jeremiah, Showtime, MGM, and other people who aren’t me do. I just like Peter Stebbings and Markus.
Notes: Also posted to Valhalla sector and picfics, both sort of low traffic. Based on http://www.photo.net/photodb/photo?photo_id=2237379 Feedback is nice.
Markus remembers a lot before the Big Death, he was old enough when it happened. At least he should. He remembers threads of a story but he can’t seem to make all the pieces fit properly. One thing very clearly from his childhood, though, is escaladers. Scared the fuck out of him. When he was old enough that his mother couldn’t easily carry him, they’d walk onto those things with her hand on his shoulder, him clinging to her leg, and a light ‘be careful.’ He remembers being unsure where to put his foot, where to step to get on them. Little Markus would overstep to keep up with his mother’s longer strides and have one terrifying moment. Fear that he would fall. But Mommy would never let her boy fall; she held him close to her body and let him be as big a boy as he wanted to be.
Markus loved escaladers.
When the dirty, ridged steps would fold in on themselves at the bottom Markus would jump off and try to jump further than the metal plating at the end. It was like a game.
He wasn’t going to tell anyone from Thunder Mountain about it. It was ridiculous; he decided long ago that ridiculous things like that were banished to the place of childhood secrets.
Well, okay, he told Meghan. How could he not tell Meghan? She didn’t see it as childish. That was when he thought to ask if she had children. A soft smile played at her lips. It seemed like everyone in her generation had a child ‘out of wedlock.’ ‘Illegitimate.’ After the Big Death, she was the only one he ever heard say those things. They just didn’t exist anymore.
Neither did the escaladers he so bravely rode as a small thing. The polished silver or brass.
He remembers a particularly long one to get to the underground trains in DC, a small place in his mind just before his memories of Colorado. Standing at the very top, holding his mother’s knee, and looking down that vast...path. It felt so important then, like an adventure. The halogen lights that just seemed to shadow the underground more than light it, it was something . . . something meaningful on an archaic level. Even to a four-year-old.
They got mugged on the escalader one night, trying to catch a train home after going to Baskin Robins. God but Markus misses Baskin Robins.
Some guy in black shot out the light above and another guy came from behind them, running down from the top steps and ripped her purse from her shoulder. She clutched it and Markus to her instinctively. The guy pushed her, but she caught her balance before actually falling.
Markus was always a bit awkward on his feet as a child. He fell forward and forward, just tumbling. They were really close to the top.
He remembers dazedly staring up at the concrete sky, the metal of the platform bottom cold and rocky on his naked back. His shirt got caught in the vicious teeth folding into their crypt and took a nasty chunk of flesh with it.
When he got shot, even though his chest was mostly bandaged, he fussed over a hospital gown and Lee just handed it over, for once in his fucking life understanding, actually getting what someone else needed.
I don't think it's so bad for one written in thirty minutes. Okay, honestly thirty-one. I don't think sixty seconds makes that much difference on the grand scale of things. Besides, my computer kept slowing up periodically as it autorecovered the four word docs I have open. I think I've slaughtered it's memory, heh.
Fandom: Jeremiah
Pairing: None, just Markus-centered.
Rating: PG-13, a little swearing.
Warnings: Um...a little implication of child maim-age but nothing big or descriptive, promise. At least, I don’t think it is.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Jeremiah, Showtime, MGM, and other people who aren’t me do. I just like Peter Stebbings and Markus.
Notes: Also posted to Valhalla sector and picfics, both sort of low traffic. Based on http://www.photo.net/photodb/photo?photo_id=2237379 Feedback is nice.
Markus remembers a lot before the Big Death, he was old enough when it happened. At least he should. He remembers threads of a story but he can’t seem to make all the pieces fit properly. One thing very clearly from his childhood, though, is escaladers. Scared the fuck out of him. When he was old enough that his mother couldn’t easily carry him, they’d walk onto those things with her hand on his shoulder, him clinging to her leg, and a light ‘be careful.’ He remembers being unsure where to put his foot, where to step to get on them. Little Markus would overstep to keep up with his mother’s longer strides and have one terrifying moment. Fear that he would fall. But Mommy would never let her boy fall; she held him close to her body and let him be as big a boy as he wanted to be.
Markus loved escaladers.
When the dirty, ridged steps would fold in on themselves at the bottom Markus would jump off and try to jump further than the metal plating at the end. It was like a game.
He wasn’t going to tell anyone from Thunder Mountain about it. It was ridiculous; he decided long ago that ridiculous things like that were banished to the place of childhood secrets.
Well, okay, he told Meghan. How could he not tell Meghan? She didn’t see it as childish. That was when he thought to ask if she had children. A soft smile played at her lips. It seemed like everyone in her generation had a child ‘out of wedlock.’ ‘Illegitimate.’ After the Big Death, she was the only one he ever heard say those things. They just didn’t exist anymore.
Neither did the escaladers he so bravely rode as a small thing. The polished silver or brass.
He remembers a particularly long one to get to the underground trains in DC, a small place in his mind just before his memories of Colorado. Standing at the very top, holding his mother’s knee, and looking down that vast...path. It felt so important then, like an adventure. The halogen lights that just seemed to shadow the underground more than light it, it was something . . . something meaningful on an archaic level. Even to a four-year-old.
They got mugged on the escalader one night, trying to catch a train home after going to Baskin Robins. God but Markus misses Baskin Robins.
Some guy in black shot out the light above and another guy came from behind them, running down from the top steps and ripped her purse from her shoulder. She clutched it and Markus to her instinctively. The guy pushed her, but she caught her balance before actually falling.
Markus was always a bit awkward on his feet as a child. He fell forward and forward, just tumbling. They were really close to the top.
He remembers dazedly staring up at the concrete sky, the metal of the platform bottom cold and rocky on his naked back. His shirt got caught in the vicious teeth folding into their crypt and took a nasty chunk of flesh with it.
When he got shot, even though his chest was mostly bandaged, he fussed over a hospital gown and Lee just handed it over, for once in his fucking life understanding, actually getting what someone else needed.
I don't think it's so bad for one written in thirty minutes. Okay, honestly thirty-one. I don't think sixty seconds makes that much difference on the grand scale of things. Besides, my computer kept slowing up periodically as it autorecovered the four word docs I have open. I think I've slaughtered it's memory, heh.