The Sequel: Finale!!
Title: 'The Sequel'
Fandom: Desperate Housewives
Pairings: Bree Van deKamp and Lynette Scavo
Chapter: Part X - finale!
Rating: PG-13ish
Author's Note: I know this icon is from 'Bang' and it's totally out of context but I had to find a 'sad Lynette' looking picture in a hurry and this is all I could find and then I had to make an icon by myself!! (horrors) so sorry, I wish I could have found one that suited better. :(
The back of Lynette’s front door had never been so scrutinized. As she stared at it in disbelief, Lynette realized it needed a new coat of paint and it could do with a new doorknob, this one was beginning to look tired. Like her. Lynette felt tired. If she stared hard enough, she could see Bree’s fingerprints smudged onto the brass of the doorknob. That’s when she knew that doorknob would remain there until the day it fell off. It had been the last thing she’d touched.
All of a sudden, Lynette found herself on the floor; she had not been aware of the sensation of falling until she hit the ground. She was numb to the world outside of the repetition of Bree’s exit playing like a nightmare over and over inside her tunnel vision. In a puddle on the floor, she blinked at the door - at the space Bree had once been, only moments before. Was she breathing? She didn’t feel any oxygen entering her lungs and they burned with the strain.
Reality was taking a backseat to disbelief and Lynette felt the edges of her sanity begin to crack and peel like old paint. Heart broken wasn’t just a turn of phrase; the moment that door closed in her face; Lynette Scavo had felt her heart snap in two. Now the pieces were floating around painfully in her chest, trying in vain to morph back together. Only, they weren’t fitting anymore and as everyone knows, you can’t force the wrong puzzle pieces back together.
Humiliation and desperation mixed with her broken heart to make a deadly cocktail betrayed to the outside world by the flood of tears that cascaded down her face to flood the hallway floor. She felt pathetic and dramatic as she splayed her lengthy form against the hardwood and shook with her sobs. This was something out of a daytime soap opera and yet she was powerless to stop it. The pain came in unbearable waves, crashing upon her and stealing her breath away. She felt sick enough that she thought she might vomit.
Bree Van deKamp had weaseled her way into Lynette’s heart against the blonde’s better judgment; she’d awaken desires in Lynette that the woman hadn’t realized lay dormant for so long and now they floundered like a fish on dry land. Dying. Dead already. She’d put herself out on a limb and now felt embarrassed and disgusted with herself. How could she have thought Bree would stand for being treated like an animal? Like Lynette’s favourite pet creature? It had been fun while it lasted… but it hadn’t lasted and there was nothing fun about the consequences.
Lynette fought the resentment she felt rising like bile in her throat - what had she expected? That Bree would happily gulp down a glass full of urine and open her mouth and ask for more? She wouldn’t have, she didn’t and those characteristics were what pulled the women together in the first place. Lynette had wanted to push Bree towards the limit without shoving her over, but she had sorely mistaken just where Bree’s limits were. She’d made a call and it had been poorly made. Now it was she who paid the price. Could she live with that?
Pushing her palms into the ground, her shoulders bowed with the weight of all that had just happened, Lynette managed stand and drag herself upstairs. Her vision blurred by her tears, her head pounding, her heart aching, Lynette stumbled into the bathroom and yanked off the toilet tank’s lid. Sobbing with renewed force, she thrust her hand down into the cool water and retrieved a sealed plastic bag.
Bruising her shoulder on the doorjamb, the mess of a woman lurched out of the bathroom and staggered into the bedroom and closed the door. Leaning back against it, she took several deep breaths and then calmly walked over to the bedside table and turned on the light. Breaking the seal on the plastic bag, Lynette shook the bottle of ADD medication out onto the bed and sat beside it.
It had been months since she’d taken one of the pills that had begun her addiction. She had forgotten about the hidden stash in the toilet tank until just this moment. The clock said 16:00. When had it gotten so late? How long had she lain on the hardwood floor downstairs? She had had plans to order sushi for dinner and have Bree serve her dressed up like a Geisha girl. She wondered what Bree could possibly be doing now. Her eyes traveled to the telephone as if by habit, as if she could actually call up her redheaded neighbour and ask her what she was doing; how was her day; did she want to come over for tea? Never again.
Lynette cracked open the childproof cap and spilled the pills out onto the bedspread. One hundred pills - it could have been a thousand - it was certainly more than enough. With her forefinger and thumb, she methodically plucked those sleek little capsules up from the bed and dropped them into her mouth. She lost count at eight as her mind began wander.
….Bree is running towards me and all I feel is peace. I’m full of air, floating in a sky full of butterflies. Her hair is streaming behind her - I always loved her hair. God, that colour of red, no one can match that. You couldn’t buy that in a bottle. Here she comes, running back to me. Everything else is falling away from us; no husbands, dead or alive, no children, no responsibilities. Just us. I begin to run to make our reunion happen quicker but as soon as I start my feet get stuck. I’m in quicksand and sinking fast. I’m screaming out to her. Bree! Bree, help me! But she’s stopped running, she’s staring at me and she’s crying. The sand is closing in around me and Bree just keeps crying. I can feel it filling my mouth, choking me, clogging my nostrils and scratching against my eyes. And Bree is just crying…
Lynette awoke with a start, her heart hammering in her chest, gasping for breath and vaulting out of bed to the bathroom where she vomited violently. Throwing herself away from the toilet, Lynette wiped her mouth on a facecloth and took a moment to calm down. Her hair was slick with sweat and her insides felt like hellfire. She was wide awake, the aftereffects of the medication. Standing, she washed her face and pulled her hair back.
Returning to the bedroom, Lynette counted the pills left on the bed - ninety-two left - she had probably regurgitated most of the poison in her system and after a long drink of water, felt well enough to trudge downstairs. It was now two in the morning, she had been asleep for ten hours.
In the garage she found an axe and, hauling it over her shoulder, she took it with her into the basement, dragging along with it a large metal garbage can. At the sight of the cage, the floodgates opened and Lynette allowed herself to feel all the rage, grief and disappointment she’d held at bay for so many hours. With a warrior’s cry, she ran at the wooden horse and struck it with the axe. The shock of the metal connecting with the wood vibrated through her arms, rattling her bones and making her feel alive. Again and again, she swung at the horse, splintering it into bits.
When the horse lay like kindling against the concrete, Lynette dropped the axe, thrust the wood into the metal can and turned towards the cage. Grabbing a nearby snow shovel and collecting the newspaper leftovers. This she piled onto the wood. Nostrils flaring with her anger, Lynette tore through the implements of torture picking up floggers, canes, paddles and whips; tossing them vehemently into the metal can, shoving them deep down. Her eyes wide, the drugs coursing through her veins, enlarging her pupils until there were barely any irises; Lynette grabbed a nearby gas can and poured gasoline over the mix.
Grabbing the hose she’d used to give Bree hypothermia, Lynette lit a match and tossed it onto the pile in front of her. The fire blazed in front of her and she thanked God for her basement’s high ceilings. Smoke rose towards the opened basement windows and Lynette flicked on the large floor fan to help it along. The sound of wood crackling satisfied her as she watched the leather melt away into the garbage can. Finally, the mess was unrecognizable and Lynette drowned it in water until she was certain it wouldn’t become a fire hazard.
Tossing a blanket over the cage, Lynette surveyed her work and nodded - it looked just like anyone’s basement could look. There was no trace left of Bree’s degradation and Lynette’s debauchery. The blonde felt numb, cold to any emotion other than the sudden surge of energy she had been given from the drugs in her system. With one more look over her shoulder, Lynette closed the door to the basement with a firm click. The finality of it suggesting the moments spent down there would be decidedly forgotten along with that part of Lynette’s desire.
Sitting at the kitchen table smelling of smoke with ashes smeared along her cheek, the axe lying silent in front of her, Lynette sipped some tea and watched the clock. The sun rose behind her, bathing her in reverence and forgiveness. It was a new day, a new beginning; she would survive this. Two hours later, she picked up the phone and called her husband. “Bring the kids home, Tom.”
And with that, Lynette Scavo stood up and began her day.
I put a lot into this fiction so I can't say it's over forever but for now, this is the end. I truly hope it was all you lot had hoped for. Thanks, as always, for reading.
~ff
x-posted to flickacross bree_lynette desperate_fic girlslash
Fandom: Desperate Housewives
Pairings: Bree Van deKamp and Lynette Scavo
Chapter: Part X - finale!
Rating: PG-13ish
Author's Note: I know this icon is from 'Bang' and it's totally out of context but I had to find a 'sad Lynette' looking picture in a hurry and this is all I could find and then I had to make an icon by myself!! (horrors) so sorry, I wish I could have found one that suited better. :(
The back of Lynette’s front door had never been so scrutinized. As she stared at it in disbelief, Lynette realized it needed a new coat of paint and it could do with a new doorknob, this one was beginning to look tired. Like her. Lynette felt tired. If she stared hard enough, she could see Bree’s fingerprints smudged onto the brass of the doorknob. That’s when she knew that doorknob would remain there until the day it fell off. It had been the last thing she’d touched.
All of a sudden, Lynette found herself on the floor; she had not been aware of the sensation of falling until she hit the ground. She was numb to the world outside of the repetition of Bree’s exit playing like a nightmare over and over inside her tunnel vision. In a puddle on the floor, she blinked at the door - at the space Bree had once been, only moments before. Was she breathing? She didn’t feel any oxygen entering her lungs and they burned with the strain.
Reality was taking a backseat to disbelief and Lynette felt the edges of her sanity begin to crack and peel like old paint. Heart broken wasn’t just a turn of phrase; the moment that door closed in her face; Lynette Scavo had felt her heart snap in two. Now the pieces were floating around painfully in her chest, trying in vain to morph back together. Only, they weren’t fitting anymore and as everyone knows, you can’t force the wrong puzzle pieces back together.
Humiliation and desperation mixed with her broken heart to make a deadly cocktail betrayed to the outside world by the flood of tears that cascaded down her face to flood the hallway floor. She felt pathetic and dramatic as she splayed her lengthy form against the hardwood and shook with her sobs. This was something out of a daytime soap opera and yet she was powerless to stop it. The pain came in unbearable waves, crashing upon her and stealing her breath away. She felt sick enough that she thought she might vomit.
Bree Van deKamp had weaseled her way into Lynette’s heart against the blonde’s better judgment; she’d awaken desires in Lynette that the woman hadn’t realized lay dormant for so long and now they floundered like a fish on dry land. Dying. Dead already. She’d put herself out on a limb and now felt embarrassed and disgusted with herself. How could she have thought Bree would stand for being treated like an animal? Like Lynette’s favourite pet creature? It had been fun while it lasted… but it hadn’t lasted and there was nothing fun about the consequences.
Lynette fought the resentment she felt rising like bile in her throat - what had she expected? That Bree would happily gulp down a glass full of urine and open her mouth and ask for more? She wouldn’t have, she didn’t and those characteristics were what pulled the women together in the first place. Lynette had wanted to push Bree towards the limit without shoving her over, but she had sorely mistaken just where Bree’s limits were. She’d made a call and it had been poorly made. Now it was she who paid the price. Could she live with that?
Pushing her palms into the ground, her shoulders bowed with the weight of all that had just happened, Lynette managed stand and drag herself upstairs. Her vision blurred by her tears, her head pounding, her heart aching, Lynette stumbled into the bathroom and yanked off the toilet tank’s lid. Sobbing with renewed force, she thrust her hand down into the cool water and retrieved a sealed plastic bag.
Bruising her shoulder on the doorjamb, the mess of a woman lurched out of the bathroom and staggered into the bedroom and closed the door. Leaning back against it, she took several deep breaths and then calmly walked over to the bedside table and turned on the light. Breaking the seal on the plastic bag, Lynette shook the bottle of ADD medication out onto the bed and sat beside it.
It had been months since she’d taken one of the pills that had begun her addiction. She had forgotten about the hidden stash in the toilet tank until just this moment. The clock said 16:00. When had it gotten so late? How long had she lain on the hardwood floor downstairs? She had had plans to order sushi for dinner and have Bree serve her dressed up like a Geisha girl. She wondered what Bree could possibly be doing now. Her eyes traveled to the telephone as if by habit, as if she could actually call up her redheaded neighbour and ask her what she was doing; how was her day; did she want to come over for tea? Never again.
Lynette cracked open the childproof cap and spilled the pills out onto the bedspread. One hundred pills - it could have been a thousand - it was certainly more than enough. With her forefinger and thumb, she methodically plucked those sleek little capsules up from the bed and dropped them into her mouth. She lost count at eight as her mind began wander.
….Bree is running towards me and all I feel is peace. I’m full of air, floating in a sky full of butterflies. Her hair is streaming behind her - I always loved her hair. God, that colour of red, no one can match that. You couldn’t buy that in a bottle. Here she comes, running back to me. Everything else is falling away from us; no husbands, dead or alive, no children, no responsibilities. Just us. I begin to run to make our reunion happen quicker but as soon as I start my feet get stuck. I’m in quicksand and sinking fast. I’m screaming out to her. Bree! Bree, help me! But she’s stopped running, she’s staring at me and she’s crying. The sand is closing in around me and Bree just keeps crying. I can feel it filling my mouth, choking me, clogging my nostrils and scratching against my eyes. And Bree is just crying…
Lynette awoke with a start, her heart hammering in her chest, gasping for breath and vaulting out of bed to the bathroom where she vomited violently. Throwing herself away from the toilet, Lynette wiped her mouth on a facecloth and took a moment to calm down. Her hair was slick with sweat and her insides felt like hellfire. She was wide awake, the aftereffects of the medication. Standing, she washed her face and pulled her hair back.
Returning to the bedroom, Lynette counted the pills left on the bed - ninety-two left - she had probably regurgitated most of the poison in her system and after a long drink of water, felt well enough to trudge downstairs. It was now two in the morning, she had been asleep for ten hours.
In the garage she found an axe and, hauling it over her shoulder, she took it with her into the basement, dragging along with it a large metal garbage can. At the sight of the cage, the floodgates opened and Lynette allowed herself to feel all the rage, grief and disappointment she’d held at bay for so many hours. With a warrior’s cry, she ran at the wooden horse and struck it with the axe. The shock of the metal connecting with the wood vibrated through her arms, rattling her bones and making her feel alive. Again and again, she swung at the horse, splintering it into bits.
When the horse lay like kindling against the concrete, Lynette dropped the axe, thrust the wood into the metal can and turned towards the cage. Grabbing a nearby snow shovel and collecting the newspaper leftovers. This she piled onto the wood. Nostrils flaring with her anger, Lynette tore through the implements of torture picking up floggers, canes, paddles and whips; tossing them vehemently into the metal can, shoving them deep down. Her eyes wide, the drugs coursing through her veins, enlarging her pupils until there were barely any irises; Lynette grabbed a nearby gas can and poured gasoline over the mix.
Grabbing the hose she’d used to give Bree hypothermia, Lynette lit a match and tossed it onto the pile in front of her. The fire blazed in front of her and she thanked God for her basement’s high ceilings. Smoke rose towards the opened basement windows and Lynette flicked on the large floor fan to help it along. The sound of wood crackling satisfied her as she watched the leather melt away into the garbage can. Finally, the mess was unrecognizable and Lynette drowned it in water until she was certain it wouldn’t become a fire hazard.
Tossing a blanket over the cage, Lynette surveyed her work and nodded - it looked just like anyone’s basement could look. There was no trace left of Bree’s degradation and Lynette’s debauchery. The blonde felt numb, cold to any emotion other than the sudden surge of energy she had been given from the drugs in her system. With one more look over her shoulder, Lynette closed the door to the basement with a firm click. The finality of it suggesting the moments spent down there would be decidedly forgotten along with that part of Lynette’s desire.
Sitting at the kitchen table smelling of smoke with ashes smeared along her cheek, the axe lying silent in front of her, Lynette sipped some tea and watched the clock. The sun rose behind her, bathing her in reverence and forgiveness. It was a new day, a new beginning; she would survive this. Two hours later, she picked up the phone and called her husband. “Bring the kids home, Tom.”
And with that, Lynette Scavo stood up and began her day.
I put a lot into this fiction so I can't say it's over forever but for now, this is the end. I truly hope it was all you lot had hoped for. Thanks, as always, for reading.
~ff
x-posted to flickacross bree_lynette desperate_fic girlslash