True story: once upon a time, I received a (random) prompt for a ficathon. I stared at that prompt for a while, trying to figure out why it was that it was so familiar looking, until I realized that the reason was because the author had taught me in college. True god damn story. RU RAH RAH!
Also: how the hell did this happen.
TITLE: Elocation (
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Comments 25
OH GOD
From the garden to the bedroom: eight seconds. From the kitchen to the bedroom: eleven seconds (because you have to wind around the staircase and, well). Passports, overnight bag in the hall closet; car keys always left in the bowl on the tabletop in the hallway. It's a wonder George never notices all the provisions she's made around the house. Or maybe he has, and it's just another quirky thing about this woman he loves, Ruth. She always parks the car with the driver's side facing the house, and when it tells her it shouldn't matter how he parks it when he takes it out, she wants to shout at him: you have no idea - you have no idea how valuable those few seconds might be one day.
I STAYED UP TO READ THIS. I DO NOT REGRET IT. Detailed comments post-sleep? Yes.
(Oh god: "But she loved him." Harry looks at her, hard. "Harry. They loved each other."
"It doesn't matter anymore."
She reels. "Doesn't it?")
(Jesus. YOU. God.)
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I love the parentheses, how everything is elided, how there are still things she doesn't want to think or talk about - I mean, things she won't even think about herself, things she has brushed to the margins of her life. Which is appropriate: they still guide her.
Spooks is not character fiction, as much as it sometimes wants to be. There are these gaping holes. I don't think that's a bad thing, but sometimes you want to tie things up. There are ways of doing it, and then there are ways. This would be the latter. It's such a satisfying read! It's so-- you cannot tell this story in a straight line. You cannot do it. People die at the end of a thing, not in the middle. But to then go through everything, all of that, the not-husband, the exile ( ... )
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Okay - so this fic was always going to be about Ruth; I mean, I am me for one, and also I made a very real \o/ when I read this prompt because thank God it fit me, etcetera etcetera. I feel like the flood gates happened for two reasons: 1) re-watching 4x05 for the billionth time, only this time realizing the irony that Jo's first instance as a ~spy (saving Ruth and Zaf et al in the safe house) directly bookends the fact that her death is Ruth's first day back on the Grid in S8; 2) the feeling I've had since 8x01 first aired that Ruth is angry as hell - angry at herself, at Harry, at life, as persons unknown (and has been, for a lot of reasons). That actually she's been like this for a long time, long before she goes away in S5. Because you're right - shit doesn't have in a straight line on this show! Danny has to send away Zoe in the middle of S3, and it's impossible not ( ... )
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*flails from being unable to breathe*
OH GOD, you so win first prize for this being the BEST fic in this ficathon so far. THE BEST. YOU KNOW RUTH SO WELL.
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YAY! It is always a relief to get feedback on things about people you love sort of a lot that is not, "Wait... REALLY?" I am very happy you enjoyed it!!
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I am quoting this because it is the first of the approximately ten thousand lines of this fic which DESTROYED ME.
Just, this. All of this is amazing and terrible and perfect and and Ruth. Ruth who never lost herself, Ruth who carries the weight of the world and of history and of love. Well done, you.
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WHY DID IT TAKE SO LONG. I WANT TO WRITE TEN MORE LIKE THIS. I AM SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT!
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