Fic: Into the River (Press Gang)
Title: Into the River
Fandom: Press Gang
Rating: All ages
Characters: Lynda Day, Spike Thomson
Summary: In the river, there are crocodiles.
A/N: Written for lordbeatrice for Yuletide Madness 2015.
Many thanks to my beta, lost_spook, who is also the person who introduced me to this wonderful show.
In the river, there are crocodiles. If you happen to meet a crocodile, don't stick your head in its mouth.
The fire crackled, getting louder. Lynda could smell the smoke, and she could feel the heat prickling on her skin. Idly, she wondered why a fire would be getting louder. She was sitting in front of the fire; it wasn't as if she were moving towards it, or it towards her.
Surely, it wasn't moving towards her?
"And that's how the fire began?"
"Yeah. Yeah, must've been. "
Wait, fire?
She remembered. She'd touched the electrics, and they had sparked, knocking her back. She had fallen hard. And, she didn't remember getting back up.
"Fire. How did I get out?"
"You didn't."
She knew he was right. She knew he was right even before she saw his face, before she realized she'd been talking to the dead.
You were weak and stupid and you made a bad choice. That isn't a crime; it just happens to have the death penalty.
Death had been his choice. It wasn't going to be hers.
She wanted to wake. She would choose to wake. She would call for Spike, and he would find her.
She opened her eyes. The fire was raging, sounding louder than ever. The heat smote her, and the smoke was everywhere. She managed to get to her feet, calling for Spike. She breathed in the smoke, and struggled to remain standing.
She failed.
There was the sound of sirens. And then there was Spike, lying on his bed.
"You're dead."
"Yeah, but we needed to talk."
He told her he loved her, and then he called her an utter bitch. There was a life summed up.
"If I kiss you, do I wake up?" he asked. "I don't think I want to know if this is a dream."
He wanted to believe she was alive. She wanted to believe it, too. Maybe she should just stay here in the dream, with Spike. That would be nice.
You can't afford to be stupid. There are crocodiles.
Lynda Day was many things, but she was never stupid.
They kissed, but he didn't wake up.
She did.
The fire surrounded her, but now the sound of the sirens was louder. She coughed, fighting against the smoke. Defiantly, she breathed smoky air into her lungs, and called again for Spike.
They heard her. They found her. They rescued her.
As she lay in the ambulance, breathing the oxygen, she smiled.
There are crocodiles.
But she was Lynda Day, and she had made her choice.
Fandom: Press Gang
Rating: All ages
Characters: Lynda Day, Spike Thomson
Summary: In the river, there are crocodiles.
A/N: Written for lordbeatrice for Yuletide Madness 2015.
Many thanks to my beta, lost_spook, who is also the person who introduced me to this wonderful show.
In the river, there are crocodiles. If you happen to meet a crocodile, don't stick your head in its mouth.
The fire crackled, getting louder. Lynda could smell the smoke, and she could feel the heat prickling on her skin. Idly, she wondered why a fire would be getting louder. She was sitting in front of the fire; it wasn't as if she were moving towards it, or it towards her.
Surely, it wasn't moving towards her?
"And that's how the fire began?"
"Yeah. Yeah, must've been. "
Wait, fire?
She remembered. She'd touched the electrics, and they had sparked, knocking her back. She had fallen hard. And, she didn't remember getting back up.
"Fire. How did I get out?"
"You didn't."
She knew he was right. She knew he was right even before she saw his face, before she realized she'd been talking to the dead.
You were weak and stupid and you made a bad choice. That isn't a crime; it just happens to have the death penalty.
Death had been his choice. It wasn't going to be hers.
She wanted to wake. She would choose to wake. She would call for Spike, and he would find her.
She opened her eyes. The fire was raging, sounding louder than ever. The heat smote her, and the smoke was everywhere. She managed to get to her feet, calling for Spike. She breathed in the smoke, and struggled to remain standing.
She failed.
There was the sound of sirens. And then there was Spike, lying on his bed.
"You're dead."
"Yeah, but we needed to talk."
He told her he loved her, and then he called her an utter bitch. There was a life summed up.
"If I kiss you, do I wake up?" he asked. "I don't think I want to know if this is a dream."
He wanted to believe she was alive. She wanted to believe it, too. Maybe she should just stay here in the dream, with Spike. That would be nice.
You can't afford to be stupid. There are crocodiles.
Lynda Day was many things, but she was never stupid.
They kissed, but he didn't wake up.
She did.
The fire surrounded her, but now the sound of the sirens was louder. She coughed, fighting against the smoke. Defiantly, she breathed smoky air into her lungs, and called again for Spike.
They heard her. They found her. They rescued her.
As she lay in the ambulance, breathing the oxygen, she smiled.
There are crocodiles.
But she was Lynda Day, and she had made her choice.