Drabble requests
Here are the drabble requests, which were broached here. Only three of them because no one else seemed interested. :(
Sanctuary, Helen/John, on John's absence at Ashley's funeral; for sache8, 200 words
“You may have found closure, but I have not. Not yet.”
The words are simple truth, hanging in the cool air between them. He can feel the sting of tears in his eyes, and blinks them back as he walks away. He does not stop when she breathes his name, almost pleadingly.
It is not the first time Helen has called for him and he has not responded.
John spoke the truth. He cannot find closure in putting an empty box into the ground. So he takes refuge in what he knows - killing. Ladies of the night are not his target, but ones far more sinister.
He lost his daughter once, because of his own failings. The second, because she had been stolen away, turned into a monster as bad as John had ever been.
No, he cannot find closure with Helen and the others. He will seek his elsewhere, in carving a path of bloody retribution. Let the Cabal realize who they are dealing with - the man who terrorized one of the largest cities in the world a century ago. Let them see why the world still shivers in fear over Jack the Ripper.
That will be John’s closure.
Sanctuary, Helen/John, crimson; for lanna_kitty, 200 words
John is waiting for her in her office, seated and helping himself to a glass of brandy. Helen nearly jumps, startled, when she sees him, but quickly brushes it off. She forces herself to stay coolly aloof, telling him that Doctor Lee can assist in treating his wounds.
It is the dash of crimson on his neck that catches her attention, and Helen tries not to shiver. That color has dogged her for all her long life, much of it having to do with him. Red, the color of the overcoat he wore the first time they met. Red, the color of the roses he gave to her not long after their engagement.
Red, the blood of his victims covering his hands, glistening in the night as she stood just feet away, a pistol trained on him.
She wonders if the blood on his neck is his own, or that of the newer victims of his ire? After all, they are ones far more deserving of it than the ladies of the night whom he murdered so long ago.
Helen wonders if they will ever be graced with a different color. She is so tired of crimson staining her life.
SGA, John/Elizabeth, "Lost without you."; for dangerusliasons, 100 words
Her existence is mostly a haze, a flurry of sensation. Sometimes she feels pain, cold, frozen needles driving into her being - she no longer has skin, barely recalls what skin is sometimes - while others she feels like she is on fire, burning beneath the rays of a hot sun.
She doesn’t know which way to go. Green eyes and teasing smiles are her only guides, and she is lost among the many stars, searching for their owner. She does not know his name - can barely recall her own at the best of times - but knows that he is the key.
Sanctuary, Helen/John, on John's absence at Ashley's funeral; for sache8, 200 words
“You may have found closure, but I have not. Not yet.”
The words are simple truth, hanging in the cool air between them. He can feel the sting of tears in his eyes, and blinks them back as he walks away. He does not stop when she breathes his name, almost pleadingly.
It is not the first time Helen has called for him and he has not responded.
John spoke the truth. He cannot find closure in putting an empty box into the ground. So he takes refuge in what he knows - killing. Ladies of the night are not his target, but ones far more sinister.
He lost his daughter once, because of his own failings. The second, because she had been stolen away, turned into a monster as bad as John had ever been.
No, he cannot find closure with Helen and the others. He will seek his elsewhere, in carving a path of bloody retribution. Let the Cabal realize who they are dealing with - the man who terrorized one of the largest cities in the world a century ago. Let them see why the world still shivers in fear over Jack the Ripper.
That will be John’s closure.
Sanctuary, Helen/John, crimson; for lanna_kitty, 200 words
John is waiting for her in her office, seated and helping himself to a glass of brandy. Helen nearly jumps, startled, when she sees him, but quickly brushes it off. She forces herself to stay coolly aloof, telling him that Doctor Lee can assist in treating his wounds.
It is the dash of crimson on his neck that catches her attention, and Helen tries not to shiver. That color has dogged her for all her long life, much of it having to do with him. Red, the color of the overcoat he wore the first time they met. Red, the color of the roses he gave to her not long after their engagement.
Red, the blood of his victims covering his hands, glistening in the night as she stood just feet away, a pistol trained on him.
She wonders if the blood on his neck is his own, or that of the newer victims of his ire? After all, they are ones far more deserving of it than the ladies of the night whom he murdered so long ago.
Helen wonders if they will ever be graced with a different color. She is so tired of crimson staining her life.
SGA, John/Elizabeth, "Lost without you."; for dangerusliasons, 100 words
Her existence is mostly a haze, a flurry of sensation. Sometimes she feels pain, cold, frozen needles driving into her being - she no longer has skin, barely recalls what skin is sometimes - while others she feels like she is on fire, burning beneath the rays of a hot sun.
She doesn’t know which way to go. Green eyes and teasing smiles are her only guides, and she is lost among the many stars, searching for their owner. She does not know his name - can barely recall her own at the best of times - but knows that he is the key.