Hey, I'm new. How about that.
Hi everybody. My name is Amanda, and this is my introduction post. Hahaha. I've been a Ryan/Bam shipper for a while, and I was a lurker, but I've decided to unlurk.
So, for my peace offering, I bring you a stand alone fic. I also make icons, but I don't have much time to actually make some, but I did make my wonderful user icon. So, watch out for that, and more fic.
Concrit is always appreciated, and I haven't posted in any fandom in over two years. Keep that in mind, I'm just getting back into things, and no better fandom than Dugera, right? Hahaha.
Title: In Your Possession
Author: Repechage
Pairing: Dugera
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama, Angst
Warning: Character death
Disclaimer: I do not know them, own them, but I love them.
Summary: I was the one driving the car, not you. I was the one that was speeding, not you.
Driving towards the cemetery is always the hardest part. I always drive alone. Even if someone is coming with me, I’ll make an excuse. I’ll have to go somewhere directly after, and they wouldn’t have a way back. They usually buy it, but I think they’re all figured out the real reason. I don’t want to see your grave with someone else. I can never grieve unless I’m alone.
I remember once when we were younger, and we drove past the rows the graves bordering the roadway. Didn’t you always hold your breath, so the souls the dead couldn’t get inside you? Maybe it was someone else. Everything is blur to me now, and I can’t distinguish the people in my memory. Sometimes the person turning up the stereo too loud is you, sometimes it’s Raab, sometimes I’m the one. But it’s never the same.
People tell me that I’ve changed. Ape, Phil, god, even Glomb has tried to have one of those ‘talks’ with me. I can’t talk about the accident. I don’t feel like I’m ready to talk about the accident. I’ll only talk to you about it, because you are the only other person that understands what happened. But you can’t talk back to me. I’m only staring at slate, asking you questions, and formulating answers for you. I can do that, answer for you. We were close. Never too close, although from the day we met I knew I needed you. But it was always too late. Eternally too late.
Getting out of my car, new, a replacement, I can see your headstone. It’s tucked away in the middle of a row, underneath a maple tree. It’s autumn now. The leaves are turning a gold colour, and falling, covering you in a golden blanket. It’s picture perfect. Except that you are not with me. I’ll never be able to get through my guilt, knowing that I’m the one the put you underground. My carelessness killed you.
I walk towards your grave, slowly. I’m never in a hurry to get there, because it reminds me that instead of you, it could be me that’s dead. That fact haunts me everyday. I don’t know how many times people have told me that it’s not my fault, not to blame myself. But I do. I was the one driving the car, not you. I was the one that was speeding, not you. I was the one that lost control and jumped the shoulder, not you. I was the one that walked away from the wreckage, not you.
Sitting next to your grave, on the cold ground, I stare up at your headstone. Looking at the dates, I realize you should still be alive. The time in between is so short, it makes me wonder what you did to deserve a fate like this. I know I’m at least partly to blame, no matter how everyone else tries to tell me differently, but I want to know why you had to leave us so early. You had so much to offer, your own career was growing, everyone saw that you were ready to leave Viva behind and make your own way. I didn’t want you to leave it behind, leave me behind, but it was your own choice. I can’t say I’m surprised about the choices you have made, I just didn’t want you to leave me.
Isn’t irony a funny thing? Here I am, sitting in front of your grave, thinking about how you leaving West Chester and expanding your horizons would leave me behind, and I’ve been ultimately left behind. Even if you left, went to Hollywood or wherever you need to be, you’d have been alive. I could have called you everyday, every hour to talk to you. And you would have answered me. Instead, by a cruel twist of fate, I get to see you everyday, because you never left. You never talk back to me, though. I miss hearing your voice, and your laughter. I loved your laugh.
The doctors told me that I’ve lost some of my memory. Everything is changing, and my memories fade one into another like daylight into dusk. I can remember facts about you, your favourite shirt, your business projects, but I don’t remember you as you were, I only know what people have told me, what I’ve watched from endless hours of tape which was suppose to help my memory. It didn’t, and I’m stuck here, in this place in my mind that will not unlock itself and show you to me. The only thing I know that is true right now, and from before the accident, is that I miss you. I need you, and I love you. I’ve shared so much, in my therapy, to my family, to my friends, but I don’t share that. If someone else knows that I love you, it will make it fake. I need you to be real, but your love is all I’ve got.
It’s getting darker now. I think I need to leave, but I can’t stand up. I can only wipe away my tears and stare at my reflection in your headstone. My heart will never be healed, I’ll never love someone quite like I loved you Ryan. You hold my past and present prisoner, a possession that you took to the grave. I know I’ll never be able to free myself from you. But no one said I had to.
So, for my peace offering, I bring you a stand alone fic. I also make icons, but I don't have much time to actually make some, but I did make my wonderful user icon. So, watch out for that, and more fic.
Concrit is always appreciated, and I haven't posted in any fandom in over two years. Keep that in mind, I'm just getting back into things, and no better fandom than Dugera, right? Hahaha.
Title: In Your Possession
Author: Repechage
Pairing: Dugera
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama, Angst
Warning: Character death
Disclaimer: I do not know them, own them, but I love them.
Summary: I was the one driving the car, not you. I was the one that was speeding, not you.
Driving towards the cemetery is always the hardest part. I always drive alone. Even if someone is coming with me, I’ll make an excuse. I’ll have to go somewhere directly after, and they wouldn’t have a way back. They usually buy it, but I think they’re all figured out the real reason. I don’t want to see your grave with someone else. I can never grieve unless I’m alone.
I remember once when we were younger, and we drove past the rows the graves bordering the roadway. Didn’t you always hold your breath, so the souls the dead couldn’t get inside you? Maybe it was someone else. Everything is blur to me now, and I can’t distinguish the people in my memory. Sometimes the person turning up the stereo too loud is you, sometimes it’s Raab, sometimes I’m the one. But it’s never the same.
People tell me that I’ve changed. Ape, Phil, god, even Glomb has tried to have one of those ‘talks’ with me. I can’t talk about the accident. I don’t feel like I’m ready to talk about the accident. I’ll only talk to you about it, because you are the only other person that understands what happened. But you can’t talk back to me. I’m only staring at slate, asking you questions, and formulating answers for you. I can do that, answer for you. We were close. Never too close, although from the day we met I knew I needed you. But it was always too late. Eternally too late.
Getting out of my car, new, a replacement, I can see your headstone. It’s tucked away in the middle of a row, underneath a maple tree. It’s autumn now. The leaves are turning a gold colour, and falling, covering you in a golden blanket. It’s picture perfect. Except that you are not with me. I’ll never be able to get through my guilt, knowing that I’m the one the put you underground. My carelessness killed you.
I walk towards your grave, slowly. I’m never in a hurry to get there, because it reminds me that instead of you, it could be me that’s dead. That fact haunts me everyday. I don’t know how many times people have told me that it’s not my fault, not to blame myself. But I do. I was the one driving the car, not you. I was the one that was speeding, not you. I was the one that lost control and jumped the shoulder, not you. I was the one that walked away from the wreckage, not you.
Sitting next to your grave, on the cold ground, I stare up at your headstone. Looking at the dates, I realize you should still be alive. The time in between is so short, it makes me wonder what you did to deserve a fate like this. I know I’m at least partly to blame, no matter how everyone else tries to tell me differently, but I want to know why you had to leave us so early. You had so much to offer, your own career was growing, everyone saw that you were ready to leave Viva behind and make your own way. I didn’t want you to leave it behind, leave me behind, but it was your own choice. I can’t say I’m surprised about the choices you have made, I just didn’t want you to leave me.
Isn’t irony a funny thing? Here I am, sitting in front of your grave, thinking about how you leaving West Chester and expanding your horizons would leave me behind, and I’ve been ultimately left behind. Even if you left, went to Hollywood or wherever you need to be, you’d have been alive. I could have called you everyday, every hour to talk to you. And you would have answered me. Instead, by a cruel twist of fate, I get to see you everyday, because you never left. You never talk back to me, though. I miss hearing your voice, and your laughter. I loved your laugh.
The doctors told me that I’ve lost some of my memory. Everything is changing, and my memories fade one into another like daylight into dusk. I can remember facts about you, your favourite shirt, your business projects, but I don’t remember you as you were, I only know what people have told me, what I’ve watched from endless hours of tape which was suppose to help my memory. It didn’t, and I’m stuck here, in this place in my mind that will not unlock itself and show you to me. The only thing I know that is true right now, and from before the accident, is that I miss you. I need you, and I love you. I’ve shared so much, in my therapy, to my family, to my friends, but I don’t share that. If someone else knows that I love you, it will make it fake. I need you to be real, but your love is all I’ve got.
It’s getting darker now. I think I need to leave, but I can’t stand up. I can only wipe away my tears and stare at my reflection in your headstone. My heart will never be healed, I’ll never love someone quite like I loved you Ryan. You hold my past and present prisoner, a possession that you took to the grave. I know I’ll never be able to free myself from you. But no one said I had to.