Fic: Binary (The Day After Tomorrow, J.D./Brian, G)
I am not actually here. In fact, this entire post is a figment of your imagination, and you should probably see somebody about your hallucinations. But if I were here, I would tell you that I'm not keeping up with anything and I have no plans to catch up with...well, anything, so if there's something you think I should know about, you can certainly feel free to tell me and I will take a look when I get back.
Title: Binary
Fandom: The Day After Tomorrow
Pairing: none, but if you try hard enough you can probably find a little J.D./Brian preslash
Rating: G
Summary: As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known.
Warnings: spoilers for the entire movie
Author's note: Guess who went to see The Day After Tomorrow again yesterday.
It is a curious emotion, this certain homesickness I have in mind. With Americans, it is a national trait, as native to us as the rollercoaster or the jukebox. It is no simple longing for the home town or country of our birth. The emotion is Janus-faced: we are torn between a nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known. - Carson McCullers
"Anything?"
Brian just shakes his head, frowning for a second before he catches himself. When he does he swallows his disappointment, sinking onto the ground next to J.D. and pulling his knees in close to his chest. He's not sure when they got used to hard earth under them, dust clinging to their clothes and their skin and endless hours of nothing to do but wait.
He heard somebody was organizing a school of some kind, but he's pretty sure it's mostly to give the kids something to do, and anyway they're too old for that. In a few months they all would have graduated, gone on to some expensive Ivy League school and spent the next four years competing for grades with a whole new crop of nerds. He'd been looking forward to it, but Princeton doesn't exist anymore and there's not much point in worrying about a future that isn't going to happen.
He hasn't heard anything about his brother. Sure, he knows he's probably dead, drowned or frozen or just starved to death somewhere in Pennsylvania. He doesn't talk about it, just like Brian doesn't talk about the fact that he hasn't found his parents yet. It's practically impossible to find anyone with different camps set up all over the place and survivors still turning up every day.
That's just the way things are now - waiting around, killing time however they can and waiting for word on their families. It's a routine, the same way getting up and going to school used to be their routine. It's not even really all that different; he eats government rations in an Army tent instead of in an oak-paneled cafeteria, and he sleeps on a cot under scratchy sheets instead of his 300-count Egyptian cotton, but he still doesn't know where his father is, and he still thinks of his friends as more of a family than his real family ever was.
He misses his brother, but he tries not to think about it. Tries not to imagine what happened, tries not to think about going back there and finding out. Because he just wants to know, one way or the other, but it's still too dangerous and he knows he'd never make it alone. He's not charmed like Sam, not some kind of hero like Sam's father, and he knows if he tried to make it back to Pennsylvania he'd just end up another casualty.
So he doesn't think about it, and he definitely doesn't talk about it. He doesn't even ask anymore, because thinking about it all the time just makes the not knowing worse. Brian hasn't given up yet - he still goes to Jack or Jason every day, asks about his parents and tries not to look disappointed when they shake their heads and tell him there hasn't been any word. And J.D. feels sorry for him - feels sorry for all of them - but he doesn't get why Brian keeps putting himself through that.
Not that there's much else to do besides hang around and wait. They don't even know what they're waiting for, because their lives are gone and all they can do now is start over. He tries not to resent Sam - tries to be happy for him, even, because if one of them can find both their parents, then maybe miracles really do happen. They must, because Sam's got his parents and he's got Laura and if they ever needed a poster boy for Surviving the Apocalypse, Sam would definitely be their guy.
Brian shifts next to him and J.D. glances over, following his line of sight until he finds himself watching Sam and Laura, hand in hand and walking toward the tent that passes for a mess hall. He knows there's a lesson in there somewhere about life going on or something, but he's never been big on clichés. And okay, maybe he resents Sam just a little, but he has a feeling he's not the only one.
"They think they've found most of the survivors," Brian says, half to himself and he's still watching the happy couple.
"They always say that, then more people turn up," J.D. answers, although he's not really sure he believes it. He's pretty much given up on his brother, after all, and there are times when he wants to shake Brian until he stops hanging on to the hope that his parents are going to show up looking for him.
Brian shakes his head and tears his gaze away from Sam to look at J.D. Or maybe he was staring at Laura - J.D. still hasn't figured out which one of them Brian's jealous of, or if he's just jealous that they've got somebody. And it's not like he can ask, because Brian's all he's got now and he doesn't want to screw it up by asking the wrong questions.
"I heard Jack and Jason talking. They didn't know I was there or they probably wouldn't have said it. The President's going to call off the search soon, start focusing on the future."
Just for a second he thinks about offering to help Brian look for his parents. He thinks about packing up, sneaking out of camp when no one's looking and heading north to look for more signs of life. It wouldn't even be that hard, because Sam and Laura are so wrapped up in themselves that they barely notice Brian and J.D., and everybody else is too busy trying to figure out what happens next to worry about what two kids are doing. And it's not like he doesn't know how to survive in the wilderness - he's taken his brother camping plenty of times, taken him on bike trips and taught him how to set up a tent and make sure he keeps his food out of reach of wild animals.
Only they don't have any food, and even if he managed to steal some MREs from the mess hall he has no idea where they'd find a tent small enough to carry. And even if most of the United States wasn't buried under snow, it's a hell of a long walk from Mexico to D.C. Still, it would be something to do, and there's a part of him that kind of likes the idea of him and Brian off on their own, relying on each other.
But he can't say any of that without making Brian think he's finally lost it. And maybe he has, because he's pretty sure his father's dead, buried under an avalanche somewhere in the Alps, and he doesn't feel…anything. He doesn't let himself, because thinking about his father always leads to wondering about his brother. There's a part of him that almost hopes that his brother is dead, because that hurts less than thinking about him alone and scared somewhere, expecting J.D. to come and rescue him.
The thought makes his throat tighten, and he swallows hard against it and stands up, brushing uselessly at the dust that's a permanent part of his pants now. He's not even sure where he's going, but he knows he can't just sit around anymore. He has to do…something - he just wishes he knew what.
"Where are you going?" Brian asks, already standing and trotting after him, and J.D. smiles without looking back.
"I heard a lot of people go to the American Embassy when they're looking for somebody. Couldn't hurt to go take a look. Not like we've got anything better to do, right?"
He expects Brian to hesitate, to say something about safety or getting permission from Jack. Technically he'd be right, because they're not supposed to leave camp at all, and they're definitely not supposed to go alone. But instead of making up excuses and turning back Brian falls into step next to him, hurrying to keep up with J.D.'s longer stride.
"Couldn't hurt," he answers, flashing a quick, brilliant smile and J.D. laughs for the first time in what feels like forever.
Title: Binary
Fandom: The Day After Tomorrow
Pairing: none, but if you try hard enough you can probably find a little J.D./Brian preslash
Rating: G
Summary: As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known.
Warnings: spoilers for the entire movie
Author's note: Guess who went to see The Day After Tomorrow again yesterday.
It is a curious emotion, this certain homesickness I have in mind. With Americans, it is a national trait, as native to us as the rollercoaster or the jukebox. It is no simple longing for the home town or country of our birth. The emotion is Janus-faced: we are torn between a nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known. - Carson McCullers
"Anything?"
Brian just shakes his head, frowning for a second before he catches himself. When he does he swallows his disappointment, sinking onto the ground next to J.D. and pulling his knees in close to his chest. He's not sure when they got used to hard earth under them, dust clinging to their clothes and their skin and endless hours of nothing to do but wait.
He heard somebody was organizing a school of some kind, but he's pretty sure it's mostly to give the kids something to do, and anyway they're too old for that. In a few months they all would have graduated, gone on to some expensive Ivy League school and spent the next four years competing for grades with a whole new crop of nerds. He'd been looking forward to it, but Princeton doesn't exist anymore and there's not much point in worrying about a future that isn't going to happen.
He hasn't heard anything about his brother. Sure, he knows he's probably dead, drowned or frozen or just starved to death somewhere in Pennsylvania. He doesn't talk about it, just like Brian doesn't talk about the fact that he hasn't found his parents yet. It's practically impossible to find anyone with different camps set up all over the place and survivors still turning up every day.
That's just the way things are now - waiting around, killing time however they can and waiting for word on their families. It's a routine, the same way getting up and going to school used to be their routine. It's not even really all that different; he eats government rations in an Army tent instead of in an oak-paneled cafeteria, and he sleeps on a cot under scratchy sheets instead of his 300-count Egyptian cotton, but he still doesn't know where his father is, and he still thinks of his friends as more of a family than his real family ever was.
He misses his brother, but he tries not to think about it. Tries not to imagine what happened, tries not to think about going back there and finding out. Because he just wants to know, one way or the other, but it's still too dangerous and he knows he'd never make it alone. He's not charmed like Sam, not some kind of hero like Sam's father, and he knows if he tried to make it back to Pennsylvania he'd just end up another casualty.
So he doesn't think about it, and he definitely doesn't talk about it. He doesn't even ask anymore, because thinking about it all the time just makes the not knowing worse. Brian hasn't given up yet - he still goes to Jack or Jason every day, asks about his parents and tries not to look disappointed when they shake their heads and tell him there hasn't been any word. And J.D. feels sorry for him - feels sorry for all of them - but he doesn't get why Brian keeps putting himself through that.
Not that there's much else to do besides hang around and wait. They don't even know what they're waiting for, because their lives are gone and all they can do now is start over. He tries not to resent Sam - tries to be happy for him, even, because if one of them can find both their parents, then maybe miracles really do happen. They must, because Sam's got his parents and he's got Laura and if they ever needed a poster boy for Surviving the Apocalypse, Sam would definitely be their guy.
Brian shifts next to him and J.D. glances over, following his line of sight until he finds himself watching Sam and Laura, hand in hand and walking toward the tent that passes for a mess hall. He knows there's a lesson in there somewhere about life going on or something, but he's never been big on clichés. And okay, maybe he resents Sam just a little, but he has a feeling he's not the only one.
"They think they've found most of the survivors," Brian says, half to himself and he's still watching the happy couple.
"They always say that, then more people turn up," J.D. answers, although he's not really sure he believes it. He's pretty much given up on his brother, after all, and there are times when he wants to shake Brian until he stops hanging on to the hope that his parents are going to show up looking for him.
Brian shakes his head and tears his gaze away from Sam to look at J.D. Or maybe he was staring at Laura - J.D. still hasn't figured out which one of them Brian's jealous of, or if he's just jealous that they've got somebody. And it's not like he can ask, because Brian's all he's got now and he doesn't want to screw it up by asking the wrong questions.
"I heard Jack and Jason talking. They didn't know I was there or they probably wouldn't have said it. The President's going to call off the search soon, start focusing on the future."
Just for a second he thinks about offering to help Brian look for his parents. He thinks about packing up, sneaking out of camp when no one's looking and heading north to look for more signs of life. It wouldn't even be that hard, because Sam and Laura are so wrapped up in themselves that they barely notice Brian and J.D., and everybody else is too busy trying to figure out what happens next to worry about what two kids are doing. And it's not like he doesn't know how to survive in the wilderness - he's taken his brother camping plenty of times, taken him on bike trips and taught him how to set up a tent and make sure he keeps his food out of reach of wild animals.
Only they don't have any food, and even if he managed to steal some MREs from the mess hall he has no idea where they'd find a tent small enough to carry. And even if most of the United States wasn't buried under snow, it's a hell of a long walk from Mexico to D.C. Still, it would be something to do, and there's a part of him that kind of likes the idea of him and Brian off on their own, relying on each other.
But he can't say any of that without making Brian think he's finally lost it. And maybe he has, because he's pretty sure his father's dead, buried under an avalanche somewhere in the Alps, and he doesn't feel…anything. He doesn't let himself, because thinking about his father always leads to wondering about his brother. There's a part of him that almost hopes that his brother is dead, because that hurts less than thinking about him alone and scared somewhere, expecting J.D. to come and rescue him.
The thought makes his throat tighten, and he swallows hard against it and stands up, brushing uselessly at the dust that's a permanent part of his pants now. He's not even sure where he's going, but he knows he can't just sit around anymore. He has to do…something - he just wishes he knew what.
"Where are you going?" Brian asks, already standing and trotting after him, and J.D. smiles without looking back.
"I heard a lot of people go to the American Embassy when they're looking for somebody. Couldn't hurt to go take a look. Not like we've got anything better to do, right?"
He expects Brian to hesitate, to say something about safety or getting permission from Jack. Technically he'd be right, because they're not supposed to leave camp at all, and they're definitely not supposed to go alone. But instead of making up excuses and turning back Brian falls into step next to him, hurrying to keep up with J.D.'s longer stride.
"Couldn't hurt," he answers, flashing a quick, brilliant smile and J.D. laughs for the first time in what feels like forever.