FIC: Wonderful (Thoughtcrime)
I've had a bit of Freya on the mind, and she wanted me to do something, so we worked this out. Call it a break from NaNo, but here's a little something for all the Brendan/Freya lovers out there.
Title: Wonderful
Fandom: Thoughtcrimes
Disclaimer: I don't own it, I'm just borrowing. Universal has rights to the movie, and I'm not sure who else, but the only thing that's mine is the plot.
Freya stood on the balcony outside the twelfth story break-room, looking at the city at night. She liked the way New York never slept, and that it had its own soul to share, if you knew how to look. Even standing inside one of the most secretive buildings in the country, the city was an open book.
"What're you up to?" a voice asked as the balcony door whispered shut behind them. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was, because she would know her partner anywhere. She and Brendan were closer than most people could understand, but it was strictly a working relationship.
"Just thinking," she responded, not turning to face him. She felt him move up to stand beside her, but she resisted the urge to look at him. Times like this she didn't want to know what was on his mind, because she feared that she would find out the truth.
"Yours, or someone else's?"
"Mine, mostly," Freya said, brushing her hair back from her face with her hand. "Do you ever regret what we do?"
Brendan turned to her, reaching out to gently lift her chin so that their eyes met. "You don't want me to answer that, not really," he said, softly.
Freya pulled away, taking a step back. "I want to know how you can live with knowing that decisions we've made are the difference between life and death," she said, firmly.
His hand was still outstretched, but he lowered it, gripping the balcony railing until she almost thought it would bend under the force he applied. "You asked me that before, Freya. The answer's the same," he finally said.
"You didn't answer me then, either," she replied, frowning. It had been at the funeral of one of the agents they'd worked with a handful of times, a young man who they both liked, and who had shown promise until the day he stepped into the line of fire during a shootout.
He'd picked up some of her habits, Freya realized, as he turned away from her gaze to speak his mind. She did it to avoid meeting gazes and overhearing thoughts. Brendan didn't need to do that, but it had become a way for her of silently telling someone she was about to be as honest as she could be without trying to cushion the truth.
"It isn't about regret, Freya, it's about doing what's right," Brendan finally said, his shoulders slumping as he let out the remainder of the breath in his lungs. "You can't second-guess yourself because there isn't any way to take it back. Right or wrong, we all make choices that affect lives. Ours, others, who knows. But for every body laying on a slab that I put there, there are countless others still living their lives because of it."
"And I'm supposed to be the one who reads minds."
He turned, looking at her with that crooked smile. "Then what am I thinking?"
Freya laughed, and shook her head. "How about 'Damn, it's cold'?"
Putting an arm around her, he returned to standing next to Freya, looking out at the lights. "There isn't a lot I wouldn't do to be able to keep seeing nights like this," Brendan said.
"Funny to think that this is the kind of thing I think of as peace," Freya commented. "The daily grind, worrying about the kids, the wife, the mistress, the job. That's what I see down there. And it's absolutely wonderful."
"So are you."
Title: Wonderful
Fandom: Thoughtcrimes
Disclaimer: I don't own it, I'm just borrowing. Universal has rights to the movie, and I'm not sure who else, but the only thing that's mine is the plot.
Freya stood on the balcony outside the twelfth story break-room, looking at the city at night. She liked the way New York never slept, and that it had its own soul to share, if you knew how to look. Even standing inside one of the most secretive buildings in the country, the city was an open book.
"What're you up to?" a voice asked as the balcony door whispered shut behind them. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was, because she would know her partner anywhere. She and Brendan were closer than most people could understand, but it was strictly a working relationship.
"Just thinking," she responded, not turning to face him. She felt him move up to stand beside her, but she resisted the urge to look at him. Times like this she didn't want to know what was on his mind, because she feared that she would find out the truth.
"Yours, or someone else's?"
"Mine, mostly," Freya said, brushing her hair back from her face with her hand. "Do you ever regret what we do?"
Brendan turned to her, reaching out to gently lift her chin so that their eyes met. "You don't want me to answer that, not really," he said, softly.
Freya pulled away, taking a step back. "I want to know how you can live with knowing that decisions we've made are the difference between life and death," she said, firmly.
His hand was still outstretched, but he lowered it, gripping the balcony railing until she almost thought it would bend under the force he applied. "You asked me that before, Freya. The answer's the same," he finally said.
"You didn't answer me then, either," she replied, frowning. It had been at the funeral of one of the agents they'd worked with a handful of times, a young man who they both liked, and who had shown promise until the day he stepped into the line of fire during a shootout.
He'd picked up some of her habits, Freya realized, as he turned away from her gaze to speak his mind. She did it to avoid meeting gazes and overhearing thoughts. Brendan didn't need to do that, but it had become a way for her of silently telling someone she was about to be as honest as she could be without trying to cushion the truth.
"It isn't about regret, Freya, it's about doing what's right," Brendan finally said, his shoulders slumping as he let out the remainder of the breath in his lungs. "You can't second-guess yourself because there isn't any way to take it back. Right or wrong, we all make choices that affect lives. Ours, others, who knows. But for every body laying on a slab that I put there, there are countless others still living their lives because of it."
"And I'm supposed to be the one who reads minds."
He turned, looking at her with that crooked smile. "Then what am I thinking?"
Freya laughed, and shook her head. "How about 'Damn, it's cold'?"
Putting an arm around her, he returned to standing next to Freya, looking out at the lights. "There isn't a lot I wouldn't do to be able to keep seeing nights like this," Brendan said.
"Funny to think that this is the kind of thing I think of as peace," Freya commented. "The daily grind, worrying about the kids, the wife, the mistress, the job. That's what I see down there. And it's absolutely wonderful."
"So are you."