Nobody Dies Today (LoM fandom)
And the fic just keeps on coming! I thought I had nothing else to add, but I seem to keep finding inspiration. I don't know, maybe watching 4 eps of Life on Mars back-to-back last night could have something to do with it! Also, there's such an astonishing amount of good fanfic out there, and I'm just loving it.
So here's a ficlet written for the 1973flashfic enclosed space challenge.
(and my own challenge, for my next piece of fic, is to get at least Sam and Gene actually talking. I'm still being a bit hesitant as far as dialogue is concerned, not sure I can get their voices right, but there's only one way to find out).
Title: Nobody Dies Today
Written for the Enclosed Space Challenge, rather at the last minute.
Spoilers: S1 Ep 6
Rating: Green Cortina. It's gen, honest, apart from maybe the odd glance here and there!
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As Jackie Queen scuttled off to take her rightful place among the less doomed captives, the tiny, airless closet fell silent.
The mood of giddy confidentiality had been comprehensively shattered by Gene's resistance to the anecdotes of happier times. He appeared thoughtful now, though, one hand coming up unconsciously to fiddle idly with the cigarette tucked behind one ear, stored away for a later that would never come to pass.
He grimaced at some unwelcome thought, his eyes lifting suddenly to lock with Sam's in a searching gaze of such intensity that Sam's eyes widened and he swallowed down the lurch in his stomach.
Well, that was one conversation they certainly wouldn't be having. And for the life of him, Sam didn't know whether to be glad or sorry.
His attention turned to the other occupant of the small room. Annie, a faraway dreamy look in her eyes, the ever-present smile playing around the corners of her mouth. You had to hand it to her: anyone who saw her now would think she was anticipating some wonderful surprise, rather than minutes away from an increasingly certain death. Maybe the two weren't mutually exclusive. Either way, the mere sight of her heartened Sam immeasurably, as it always did.
He stole a glance at his watch. Tick. Less than five minutes to go. Time to face it, two o'clock looked set to be the end, of something or everything.
Now there was a thought, and one that had occurred to him before, standing on a windswept roof in a moment of heady indecision. If he really were to be executed at two, in this bizarre dream existence that he'd almost come to accept as reality, what would that actually mean? Nobody ever dreams their own death, so went the old saying - if you die in your dreams, you die for real. But - what if the reverse were true? What if being shot here, now, in this dingy overheated office, was the one thing that could save his life?
The rattling of keys jolted Sam roughly out of his reverie. The door swung open, a shadow loomed. Two o'clock. He'd know soon enough.
So here's a ficlet written for the 1973flashfic enclosed space challenge.
(and my own challenge, for my next piece of fic, is to get at least Sam and Gene actually talking. I'm still being a bit hesitant as far as dialogue is concerned, not sure I can get their voices right, but there's only one way to find out).
Title: Nobody Dies Today
Written for the Enclosed Space Challenge, rather at the last minute.
Spoilers: S1 Ep 6
Rating: Green Cortina. It's gen, honest, apart from maybe the odd glance here and there!
--------------
As Jackie Queen scuttled off to take her rightful place among the less doomed captives, the tiny, airless closet fell silent.
The mood of giddy confidentiality had been comprehensively shattered by Gene's resistance to the anecdotes of happier times. He appeared thoughtful now, though, one hand coming up unconsciously to fiddle idly with the cigarette tucked behind one ear, stored away for a later that would never come to pass.
He grimaced at some unwelcome thought, his eyes lifting suddenly to lock with Sam's in a searching gaze of such intensity that Sam's eyes widened and he swallowed down the lurch in his stomach.
Well, that was one conversation they certainly wouldn't be having. And for the life of him, Sam didn't know whether to be glad or sorry.
His attention turned to the other occupant of the small room. Annie, a faraway dreamy look in her eyes, the ever-present smile playing around the corners of her mouth. You had to hand it to her: anyone who saw her now would think she was anticipating some wonderful surprise, rather than minutes away from an increasingly certain death. Maybe the two weren't mutually exclusive. Either way, the mere sight of her heartened Sam immeasurably, as it always did.
He stole a glance at his watch. Tick. Less than five minutes to go. Time to face it, two o'clock looked set to be the end, of something or everything.
Now there was a thought, and one that had occurred to him before, standing on a windswept roof in a moment of heady indecision. If he really were to be executed at two, in this bizarre dream existence that he'd almost come to accept as reality, what would that actually mean? Nobody ever dreams their own death, so went the old saying - if you die in your dreams, you die for real. But - what if the reverse were true? What if being shot here, now, in this dingy overheated office, was the one thing that could save his life?
The rattling of keys jolted Sam roughly out of his reverie. The door swung open, a shadow loomed. Two o'clock. He'd know soon enough.