[Dresden Files: White War] The Valley of the Shadow of Death
This is for a Dresden Files AU called the White War (ww_reboot) that I've dabbled in off and on. Dave is pretty much my main Dresden Files OC, and I put him through hell in this AU.
Title: The Valley of the Shadow of Death
Characters: Dave, Finn
Word Count: 1200+
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Dave met Finn, or when things went from worse to not-so-bad.
Author's Notes: Finn belongs to dark_puck and is used with permission and encouragement.
---
Rule of threes, Dave thought to himself. Three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food.
It's been almost five days since he'd walked away from that brook.
He was parched. His tongue felt swollen, filling his mouth, and he'd bite on it now and then to get a little blood down his throat. It wasn't good enough, not really. Not for either thirst.
His head hurt. No, that was an understatement. Little cracks felt like they were running through his skull, and every step made his head swim. Walking hurt, really, but he couldn't stop putting one foot in front of the other. West. Walking into the sunset. Walking across the grass, because there wasn't really any other choice. He had to get lost and stay lost.
He wanted to die.
That might be the thirst talking.
The sunlight felt like a weight on his body, and that weight was fading. Slowly, inch by inch, breath by breath, heartbeat by heartbeat.
He didn't look forward to the night. Even if it would make things easier.
Night made everything easier. Except for resisting temptation.
He was so thirsty.
***
Sometime during the night, he fell. He'd done that before, his body just refusing him anything further. He had climbed back to his feet, though, and kept walking. Because he had to.
He couldn't stand up this time.
He stared up at the night sky with eyes that saw too far and too well in the deep darks. Bats. There were bats out, hunting. Heh. The collar around his neck rubbed over the scars as he turned his head. Insects sang. A different song than the one he'd lived his whole life with. But that life was gone now, dead on his master's floor.
Dave lay there and watched the bats flying in the sky until everything faded into black.
***
He woke with the sound of someone else's heartbeat in his ears. Animal scent hit him, some animal he didn't know but almost human. It soaked into him, and that thing, that kind of thing, he'd smelled this before. He had.
Smooth ceramic was pressed to his mouth, warm water like ambrosia wetting his lips. "Fairy sips," a baritone voice advised him. "You'll puke it up otherwise."
Dave sucked in a mouthful, swallowed with an effort. He was in darkness, but he felt the sun somewhere far off. He could do this, he could control this. He sucked in another mouthful, and another, and another, until he could think of something more than slowly drinking water. Water. Not blood.
Maybe it was better to think of it as blood. The other man's heartbeat was so loud.
He was propped up against something hard but with a little give. Wood, maybe. He only heard one heartbeat, tantalizing though it was. He smelled the human-animal scent, but no human scent. No magic-scent, either, or other not-human scents. That was... probably good.
Dave opened his eyes.
His rescuer, a brawny bear of a blond man, leapt back. The cup clattered to the ground, cracking. He stared hard at Dave, and everything about him was on the edge of fight or flight.
Probably fight.
Dave stared at him dully and wondered what had caused that.
The water was pooling on the floor in a shaft of sunlight, glinting painfully into his eyes. He turned away and looked around. The floor was wooden, but the walls went back into a hillside, giving way to dirt supported by bracing. He stared in fascination at it, then turned his head back the other way.
There was a mirror. It was crazed with cracks, and it showed his eyes dead black.
Like his master's when the master stopped wearing his human face.
"Oh," he said quietly.
The blond seemed to relax slightly as Dave sat there. "Yeah. 'Oh.'" His dark eyes flicked to Dave's throat. "How long are you going to keep that collar on?"
Dave looked at the other man and registered for the first time that he wasn't collared. "... I've never taken it off."
"Maybe you ought to," the blond said almost gently.
Slowly, Dave reached up and ran his hands over the thick leather collar. It was carved with his master's narcissus entwined with rowan leaves, the clasp made of cold iron. Not quite holy, none of it, but a little warding to the right kind of people. His fingers settled on the clasp, and he twisted it just so-
It came off, and he let it drop down in his lap.
The blond man winced and started forward. "Hell."
"He killed me," Dave said vaguely, eyes going to the mirror. "He left me dead on the floor, and then I woke up. And I was hungry." His hands fumbled for the collar, wanting to cover his throat again. "Why? Why did he do that to me?"
"He's a dickwad. I'm guessing." Tight anger filled the blond's voice as he prowled closer, and the entire way he carried himself made Dave look sharply at him. Not fight or flight anymore, that was fury in the set of the blond's shoulders. "Who was he?"
"Rosario," Dave breathed as the blond knelt and picked up the collar. "Master Rosario, Count of the Shadowed Hills."
"I'll remember that."
His hands were very warm as he clasped the collar around Dave's throat, and Dave's eyes slid shut as he listened to the other man's heartbeat. "Who are you?"
"Fenrir Sullivan." The anger had faded, and he almost seemed to have a ghost of a smile in his voice.
Dave cracked an eye open. "You're not a 'wolf. You smell wrong."
The blond's eyes widened but he covered his surprise with a grin. "First time someone's caught that reference in years. Call me Finn."
"Dave." His eyes slid shut again. "-Please step away. Your heartbeat-"
"Gotcha." The blond took two long steps back. "How long-?"
"Nine or ten days." Dave tried not to think of the first few days, of the bloodlust and the running, of the haze of need to fill his veins again. Of how much it had hurt to be hurt when he had run and the master's faithful had given chase.
Finn's heartbeat pounded in his ears.
"Might help if you've got something to gnaw on," Finn suggested. "Starving yourself like you did is just going to make you hungrier."
"I didn't mean to," Dave said, knowing how weak that sounded.
There was some rustling, and Dave opened his eyes to see Finn digging through a bag on the floor. The blond gave him a smile that might have been reassuring if Dave was still human. "I know how it gets. Hunting's a little scarce sometimes, and if you were avoiding people..."
"What are you?" Dave tilted his head slightly as Finn pulled a carrot out of the bag.
Finn tossed him the carrot. "Try this."
"You're not actually going to answer me, are you?"
"Nope."
Dave sighed and brought the carrot to his mouth. Having something right there, under his teeth, suddenly kicked in mostly unrealized instincts.
Finn winced and tossed him another carrot. "I'm going to stay out of arm's reach for a bit, if it's all the same to you."
-End-
Title: The Valley of the Shadow of Death
Characters: Dave, Finn
Word Count: 1200+
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Dave met Finn, or when things went from worse to not-so-bad.
Author's Notes: Finn belongs to dark_puck and is used with permission and encouragement.
---
Rule of threes, Dave thought to himself. Three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food.
It's been almost five days since he'd walked away from that brook.
He was parched. His tongue felt swollen, filling his mouth, and he'd bite on it now and then to get a little blood down his throat. It wasn't good enough, not really. Not for either thirst.
His head hurt. No, that was an understatement. Little cracks felt like they were running through his skull, and every step made his head swim. Walking hurt, really, but he couldn't stop putting one foot in front of the other. West. Walking into the sunset. Walking across the grass, because there wasn't really any other choice. He had to get lost and stay lost.
He wanted to die.
That might be the thirst talking.
The sunlight felt like a weight on his body, and that weight was fading. Slowly, inch by inch, breath by breath, heartbeat by heartbeat.
He didn't look forward to the night. Even if it would make things easier.
Night made everything easier. Except for resisting temptation.
He was so thirsty.
***
Sometime during the night, he fell. He'd done that before, his body just refusing him anything further. He had climbed back to his feet, though, and kept walking. Because he had to.
He couldn't stand up this time.
He stared up at the night sky with eyes that saw too far and too well in the deep darks. Bats. There were bats out, hunting. Heh. The collar around his neck rubbed over the scars as he turned his head. Insects sang. A different song than the one he'd lived his whole life with. But that life was gone now, dead on his master's floor.
Dave lay there and watched the bats flying in the sky until everything faded into black.
***
He woke with the sound of someone else's heartbeat in his ears. Animal scent hit him, some animal he didn't know but almost human. It soaked into him, and that thing, that kind of thing, he'd smelled this before. He had.
Smooth ceramic was pressed to his mouth, warm water like ambrosia wetting his lips. "Fairy sips," a baritone voice advised him. "You'll puke it up otherwise."
Dave sucked in a mouthful, swallowed with an effort. He was in darkness, but he felt the sun somewhere far off. He could do this, he could control this. He sucked in another mouthful, and another, and another, until he could think of something more than slowly drinking water. Water. Not blood.
Maybe it was better to think of it as blood. The other man's heartbeat was so loud.
He was propped up against something hard but with a little give. Wood, maybe. He only heard one heartbeat, tantalizing though it was. He smelled the human-animal scent, but no human scent. No magic-scent, either, or other not-human scents. That was... probably good.
Dave opened his eyes.
His rescuer, a brawny bear of a blond man, leapt back. The cup clattered to the ground, cracking. He stared hard at Dave, and everything about him was on the edge of fight or flight.
Probably fight.
Dave stared at him dully and wondered what had caused that.
The water was pooling on the floor in a shaft of sunlight, glinting painfully into his eyes. He turned away and looked around. The floor was wooden, but the walls went back into a hillside, giving way to dirt supported by bracing. He stared in fascination at it, then turned his head back the other way.
There was a mirror. It was crazed with cracks, and it showed his eyes dead black.
Like his master's when the master stopped wearing his human face.
"Oh," he said quietly.
The blond seemed to relax slightly as Dave sat there. "Yeah. 'Oh.'" His dark eyes flicked to Dave's throat. "How long are you going to keep that collar on?"
Dave looked at the other man and registered for the first time that he wasn't collared. "... I've never taken it off."
"Maybe you ought to," the blond said almost gently.
Slowly, Dave reached up and ran his hands over the thick leather collar. It was carved with his master's narcissus entwined with rowan leaves, the clasp made of cold iron. Not quite holy, none of it, but a little warding to the right kind of people. His fingers settled on the clasp, and he twisted it just so-
It came off, and he let it drop down in his lap.
The blond man winced and started forward. "Hell."
"He killed me," Dave said vaguely, eyes going to the mirror. "He left me dead on the floor, and then I woke up. And I was hungry." His hands fumbled for the collar, wanting to cover his throat again. "Why? Why did he do that to me?"
"He's a dickwad. I'm guessing." Tight anger filled the blond's voice as he prowled closer, and the entire way he carried himself made Dave look sharply at him. Not fight or flight anymore, that was fury in the set of the blond's shoulders. "Who was he?"
"Rosario," Dave breathed as the blond knelt and picked up the collar. "Master Rosario, Count of the Shadowed Hills."
"I'll remember that."
His hands were very warm as he clasped the collar around Dave's throat, and Dave's eyes slid shut as he listened to the other man's heartbeat. "Who are you?"
"Fenrir Sullivan." The anger had faded, and he almost seemed to have a ghost of a smile in his voice.
Dave cracked an eye open. "You're not a 'wolf. You smell wrong."
The blond's eyes widened but he covered his surprise with a grin. "First time someone's caught that reference in years. Call me Finn."
"Dave." His eyes slid shut again. "-Please step away. Your heartbeat-"
"Gotcha." The blond took two long steps back. "How long-?"
"Nine or ten days." Dave tried not to think of the first few days, of the bloodlust and the running, of the haze of need to fill his veins again. Of how much it had hurt to be hurt when he had run and the master's faithful had given chase.
Finn's heartbeat pounded in his ears.
"Might help if you've got something to gnaw on," Finn suggested. "Starving yourself like you did is just going to make you hungrier."
"I didn't mean to," Dave said, knowing how weak that sounded.
There was some rustling, and Dave opened his eyes to see Finn digging through a bag on the floor. The blond gave him a smile that might have been reassuring if Dave was still human. "I know how it gets. Hunting's a little scarce sometimes, and if you were avoiding people..."
"What are you?" Dave tilted his head slightly as Finn pulled a carrot out of the bag.
Finn tossed him the carrot. "Try this."
"You're not actually going to answer me, are you?"
"Nope."
Dave sighed and brought the carrot to his mouth. Having something right there, under his teeth, suddenly kicked in mostly unrealized instincts.
Finn winced and tossed him another carrot. "I'm going to stay out of arm's reach for a bit, if it's all the same to you."
-End-