three ficlets for the abc meme (Boone, Daniel and Desmond, Des/Charlie)
Okay, so, three for now. The rest in the next days. And I still have about half of the letters free so if someone wants to claim a letter here it is.
Title: Empty-Handed Heart
Rating: PG
Characters: Boone
Words: 316
Summary: As he leaves Shannon behind, he realizes that he has been deliberately mean to her and that he had hoped she suffered at least one tenth as much as he had. This isn’t like him.
Spoilers: Mid S1.
Disclaimer: God, no, not mine. I'd be richer.
A/N: for inthekeyofd who wanted Boone and vacant. Using for un_love_you #13, I want to hurt you. Title stolen from Warren Zevon.
Feeling relieved brings a strange sensation. He can’t really describe it. Maybe it’s just a question of the world suddenly seeming a lot more bleak than the day before. Or about his head being mostly a blank space. For two days he just moves on automatic and instead of thinking about how they should open that hatch he thinks about what the hell is it that happened to him.
He feels like someone threw him off balance and this is not because, deep down, he knows he had never really wanted to let go of Shannon. It’s something else, and it isn’t the fact that digging up a hatch doesn’t make him feel that useful.
Maybe it’s that he just doesn’t care if he is or not. And it’s a first. He can’t remember not caring to be helpful. Or useful. Or whatever. It’s a fact, though; he doesn’t give a damn.
He struggles with the information, doesn’t realize why, but meanwhile he isn’t eager at all to do anything random that could make someone’s day better and he volunteers only when he thinks he really should; he gets what happened at the caves.
As he leaves Shannon behind, he realizes that he has been deliberately mean to her and that he had hoped she suffered at least one tenth as much as he had. This isn’t like him. Before, he would have never hurt someone on purpose, Shannon especially, and no matter how much of a bitch she could become. And he did it anyway and he just doesn’t care; and that’s it. Realizing that there’s now a wide, vacant metaphorical space where his metaphorical heart was supposed to be hurts almost as much as back to what it was had hurt once; but what is worse, is that it doesn’t take much to accept it. Maybe it just isn’t worth it anymore at all.
End.
Title: Unstuck
Rating: PG
Characters: Daniel, Desmond (maaaybe Dan/Des if you want to see it)
Words: 788
Summary: Desmond is like some incredibly bright star against a dull, dark sky, an isolated system that doesn’t interact with its surroundings and transcends the blasted Minkowski spacetime where time only has a single dimension.
Spoilers: general S5. What's here is pure speculation, I'm not spoiled for what's happening re this particular thing.
Disclaimer: God, no, not mine. I'd be richer.
A/N: for elliotsmelliot who wanted Desmond, Daniel and touch. Using for chem15try #15, isolated system. The rant in the beginning probably owes something to my lessons of history of logic and I wouldn't have managed the thing without a lot of Wikipedia. Also, don't ask me where it came from, Daniel with me is very fickle.
Daniel thinks about Desmond as he approaches the Orchid, in the nighttime, clearly without authorization. After all, being like him if only for a short while is the target and if he had his maths done right, this is the only way he can finally get unstuck as Desmond is. And then… and then.
Saying that Desmond is special is saying everything and nothing at the same time. Special means he’s different but without much else; it means saying what it is and not how it is and it’s wrong, because if there’s one thing Daniel has learned about science in his life is that you don’t want to explain what. The what is always hypothetical and unsure and unstable; you might never know when someone else will find out you were wrong. But you can explain how because you can see it unfold, you can prove it through experiments. After all, everyone knows how the principle of inertia works, but Daniel doesn’t think he has ever met one person who could explain what exactly it is, including himself.
Saying that Desmond is special is just as sterile a sentence as it can be. Desmond might be, sure, but it’s because he isn’t wired like all of them are, Daniel included. Desmond is like some incredibly bright star against a dull, dark sky, an isolated system that doesn’t interact with its surroundings and transcends the blasted Minkowski spacetime where time only has a single dimension. Desmond can’t see it but Daniel can; he can see time unfolding in four, eight, fifteen, sixteen, twenty-three, forty-two, endless dimensions around him, in spite of any law Daniel might know by heart.
Unstuck in time.
That’s why he’s an exception; there isn’t a single continuum for him, and the fact that he doesn’t know or realize is what makes Dan almost envious, almost wishing it’d be him. After all, that’s the reason he chose Desmond as his constant; sure, he hadn’t imagined it at the time but he must have understood it someway. You can’t really go wrong when your constant is the only one which will always be valid and steady and will never change and will take you anywhere in time, or space, if only. If only.
He’s an isolated system almost as perfect as the universe as a whole is, and he works as such; sure, Desmond interacts with people, that’s true, but it’s not the point. He could bend space and time if he wanted, and he doesn’t. Daniel doesn’t know what would happen if Desmond tried it, if not that maybe he’d meet the only system of that kind to be isolated and not-isolated at the same time, a countersense that in this case would only make even more sense. It’s a mystery he’d give his life to resolve, he knows it. That’s why he walks past the safe zone. That’s when he feels the air vibrating around him, barely perceptible but steadily increasing. He closes his eyes and as he touches the wall on the cave, rock momentarily turned into pure energy, and then he finally gets it. He’s nowhere and everywhere and for a second he thinks his head might just burst, but there’s something he has to do, and he’s aware that it might save them all or screw them all.
The world becomes a white, blinding supernova as he takes a spoon from the pocket of his jumpsuit (after all, didn’t that man die because of a metal tooth?) and pushes it slightly in a crack on the rocks, fully knowing what’s on the other side.
--
He’s still nowhere and everywhere and thinks he can actually see time unfolding in front of him; he isn’t that surprised when in one of the infinite, possible worlds he’ll be able to visit for maybe an hour or one day or one century, however long it lasts, he’s in an hospital room in Los Angeles and Desmond lays on the bed in front of him. Sleeping, with a wound somewhere in his side. Daniel knows what it is and why it was and maybe he’d know what will be if only he didn’t feel something being wrong and maybe that effect will last one minute and then… then. He doesn’t know what happened back there.
His fingers close around Desmond’s hand, touching warm, smooth skin, his hand too pale in comparison; Desmond’s eyes snap open and Daniel can only say you have to go back, whatever happened you can change it before he closes his eyes and as Desmond says something he doesn’t catch and tightens his hold, Daniel wonders if two isolated systems could ever work together for a fleeting second before he’s gone.
End.
Title: Beatles, Thackeray and the fragile concept of utopia
Rating: PG really
Pairing: Desmond/Charlie
Words: 529
Summary: In this very moment, Charlie’s world is nothing short of a fragment of a very comfortable utopia (fragment because he’s not that naïve and he knows that utopia is, sadly, a concept that rarely lasts); the bed is wide, the sheets were changed this morning and are clean and crispy (not to mention, it’s also his favorite set, the yellow one), the spring night isn’t chilly nor too hot, the radio on his night stand (the volume is low, of course) is passing Hey Jude and his arms are firmly wrapped around Desmond’s waist.
Spoilers: Er, mid S3? AU, established relationship and really, don't ask me explanations.
Disclaimer: God, no, not mine. I'd be richer.
A/N: for toestastegood who wanted Des/Charlie and spooning. I guess that it'll probably get fluff-y. This is kinda set in the Networking universe, but it's really a standalone.
In this very moment, Charlie’s world is nothing short of a fragment of a very comfortable utopia (fragment because he’s not that naïve and he knows that utopia is, sadly, a concept that rarely lasts); the bed is wide, the sheets were changed this morning and are clean and crispy (not to mention, it’s also his favorite set, the yellow one), the spring night isn’t chilly nor too hot, the radio on his night stand (the volume is low, of course) is passing Hey Jude and his arms are firmly wrapped around Desmond’s waist. Charlie snuggles closer, lacing his ankles with Desmond’s and letting his chest fit perfectly behind Desmond’s back; they’re both shirtless and Charlie just loves just how soft and warm that skin of Desmond’s is, not to mention that he maintained that lovely tan of his even if the winter had been everything but sunny in Newcastle. He closes his eyes, tightening his hold, savoring the moment…
“Charlie, not that I mind, but you’re bloody chocking me and I’d really love to finish this chapter before turnin’ the light off.”
… until Desmond has to go and ruin the moment. Of course. Charlie rolls his eyes, feels glad that Desmond can’t see him, keeps on wondering what is so interesting about sodding Vanity Fair (how can Desmond get through those books he doesn’t know).
“Oh, bugger, just go on tomorrow.”
“I’m almost done, can’t you just be patient for a second?”
“No, not really. Also, I can’t see why you need get bored to death over that thing when you have two alternatives which, let me tell you, would make a great improvement.”
“Really. And what would they be?”
“Well, on the radio there’s a Beatles special. And Des, you can’t actually tell me that Thackeray is better than the Beatles. There’s a sodding limit to everything.”
“And the other alternative? Y’know I like Pink Floyd better.”
Charlie comes even closer and rubs his hand slowly along Desmond’s chest, smiling as he feels him shiver.
“Well, you can’t really beat the one and only rock god in this room, and I’m including the Beatles too.”
Charlie grins in triumph as Desmond shuts the book close with a sigh.
“You do realize your ego is growing out of proportions, brother? I’ll concede you one, but you beating all four of them? Bloody unlikely.”
But then the light turns off and Desmond’s head falls against the pillow. The music changes to I Wanna Hold Your Hand and Charlie is ready for some undoubtedly immortal remark when Desmond’s hand closes around his, which by chance was over the exact place where Desmond’s heart is.
For once he’s at a loss but well, now he has Desmond’s attention and early Beatles are as good as the late Beatles. Can’t complain, right? Charlie settles back into his found-again fragment of utopia and places a light kiss on Desmond’s shoulder, keeping a remark concerning Paul McCartney being much worse at this than Charlie is to himself. He will use it next time anyway.
End.
Title: Empty-Handed Heart
Rating: PG
Characters: Boone
Words: 316
Summary: As he leaves Shannon behind, he realizes that he has been deliberately mean to her and that he had hoped she suffered at least one tenth as much as he had. This isn’t like him.
Spoilers: Mid S1.
Disclaimer: God, no, not mine. I'd be richer.
A/N: for inthekeyofd who wanted Boone and vacant. Using for un_love_you #13, I want to hurt you. Title stolen from Warren Zevon.
Feeling relieved brings a strange sensation. He can’t really describe it. Maybe it’s just a question of the world suddenly seeming a lot more bleak than the day before. Or about his head being mostly a blank space. For two days he just moves on automatic and instead of thinking about how they should open that hatch he thinks about what the hell is it that happened to him.
He feels like someone threw him off balance and this is not because, deep down, he knows he had never really wanted to let go of Shannon. It’s something else, and it isn’t the fact that digging up a hatch doesn’t make him feel that useful.
Maybe it’s that he just doesn’t care if he is or not. And it’s a first. He can’t remember not caring to be helpful. Or useful. Or whatever. It’s a fact, though; he doesn’t give a damn.
He struggles with the information, doesn’t realize why, but meanwhile he isn’t eager at all to do anything random that could make someone’s day better and he volunteers only when he thinks he really should; he gets what happened at the caves.
As he leaves Shannon behind, he realizes that he has been deliberately mean to her and that he had hoped she suffered at least one tenth as much as he had. This isn’t like him. Before, he would have never hurt someone on purpose, Shannon especially, and no matter how much of a bitch she could become. And he did it anyway and he just doesn’t care; and that’s it. Realizing that there’s now a wide, vacant metaphorical space where his metaphorical heart was supposed to be hurts almost as much as back to what it was had hurt once; but what is worse, is that it doesn’t take much to accept it. Maybe it just isn’t worth it anymore at all.
End.
Title: Unstuck
Rating: PG
Characters: Daniel, Desmond (maaaybe Dan/Des if you want to see it)
Words: 788
Summary: Desmond is like some incredibly bright star against a dull, dark sky, an isolated system that doesn’t interact with its surroundings and transcends the blasted Minkowski spacetime where time only has a single dimension.
Spoilers: general S5. What's here is pure speculation, I'm not spoiled for what's happening re this particular thing.
Disclaimer: God, no, not mine. I'd be richer.
A/N: for elliotsmelliot who wanted Desmond, Daniel and touch. Using for chem15try #15, isolated system. The rant in the beginning probably owes something to my lessons of history of logic and I wouldn't have managed the thing without a lot of Wikipedia. Also, don't ask me where it came from, Daniel with me is very fickle.
Daniel thinks about Desmond as he approaches the Orchid, in the nighttime, clearly without authorization. After all, being like him if only for a short while is the target and if he had his maths done right, this is the only way he can finally get unstuck as Desmond is. And then… and then.
Saying that Desmond is special is saying everything and nothing at the same time. Special means he’s different but without much else; it means saying what it is and not how it is and it’s wrong, because if there’s one thing Daniel has learned about science in his life is that you don’t want to explain what. The what is always hypothetical and unsure and unstable; you might never know when someone else will find out you were wrong. But you can explain how because you can see it unfold, you can prove it through experiments. After all, everyone knows how the principle of inertia works, but Daniel doesn’t think he has ever met one person who could explain what exactly it is, including himself.
Saying that Desmond is special is just as sterile a sentence as it can be. Desmond might be, sure, but it’s because he isn’t wired like all of them are, Daniel included. Desmond is like some incredibly bright star against a dull, dark sky, an isolated system that doesn’t interact with its surroundings and transcends the blasted Minkowski spacetime where time only has a single dimension. Desmond can’t see it but Daniel can; he can see time unfolding in four, eight, fifteen, sixteen, twenty-three, forty-two, endless dimensions around him, in spite of any law Daniel might know by heart.
Unstuck in time.
That’s why he’s an exception; there isn’t a single continuum for him, and the fact that he doesn’t know or realize is what makes Dan almost envious, almost wishing it’d be him. After all, that’s the reason he chose Desmond as his constant; sure, he hadn’t imagined it at the time but he must have understood it someway. You can’t really go wrong when your constant is the only one which will always be valid and steady and will never change and will take you anywhere in time, or space, if only. If only.
He’s an isolated system almost as perfect as the universe as a whole is, and he works as such; sure, Desmond interacts with people, that’s true, but it’s not the point. He could bend space and time if he wanted, and he doesn’t. Daniel doesn’t know what would happen if Desmond tried it, if not that maybe he’d meet the only system of that kind to be isolated and not-isolated at the same time, a countersense that in this case would only make even more sense. It’s a mystery he’d give his life to resolve, he knows it. That’s why he walks past the safe zone. That’s when he feels the air vibrating around him, barely perceptible but steadily increasing. He closes his eyes and as he touches the wall on the cave, rock momentarily turned into pure energy, and then he finally gets it. He’s nowhere and everywhere and for a second he thinks his head might just burst, but there’s something he has to do, and he’s aware that it might save them all or screw them all.
The world becomes a white, blinding supernova as he takes a spoon from the pocket of his jumpsuit (after all, didn’t that man die because of a metal tooth?) and pushes it slightly in a crack on the rocks, fully knowing what’s on the other side.
--
He’s still nowhere and everywhere and thinks he can actually see time unfolding in front of him; he isn’t that surprised when in one of the infinite, possible worlds he’ll be able to visit for maybe an hour or one day or one century, however long it lasts, he’s in an hospital room in Los Angeles and Desmond lays on the bed in front of him. Sleeping, with a wound somewhere in his side. Daniel knows what it is and why it was and maybe he’d know what will be if only he didn’t feel something being wrong and maybe that effect will last one minute and then… then. He doesn’t know what happened back there.
His fingers close around Desmond’s hand, touching warm, smooth skin, his hand too pale in comparison; Desmond’s eyes snap open and Daniel can only say you have to go back, whatever happened you can change it before he closes his eyes and as Desmond says something he doesn’t catch and tightens his hold, Daniel wonders if two isolated systems could ever work together for a fleeting second before he’s gone.
End.
Title: Beatles, Thackeray and the fragile concept of utopia
Rating: PG really
Pairing: Desmond/Charlie
Words: 529
Summary: In this very moment, Charlie’s world is nothing short of a fragment of a very comfortable utopia (fragment because he’s not that naïve and he knows that utopia is, sadly, a concept that rarely lasts); the bed is wide, the sheets were changed this morning and are clean and crispy (not to mention, it’s also his favorite set, the yellow one), the spring night isn’t chilly nor too hot, the radio on his night stand (the volume is low, of course) is passing Hey Jude and his arms are firmly wrapped around Desmond’s waist.
Spoilers: Er, mid S3? AU, established relationship and really, don't ask me explanations.
Disclaimer: God, no, not mine. I'd be richer.
A/N: for toestastegood who wanted Des/Charlie and spooning. I guess that it'll probably get fluff-y. This is kinda set in the Networking universe, but it's really a standalone.
In this very moment, Charlie’s world is nothing short of a fragment of a very comfortable utopia (fragment because he’s not that naïve and he knows that utopia is, sadly, a concept that rarely lasts); the bed is wide, the sheets were changed this morning and are clean and crispy (not to mention, it’s also his favorite set, the yellow one), the spring night isn’t chilly nor too hot, the radio on his night stand (the volume is low, of course) is passing Hey Jude and his arms are firmly wrapped around Desmond’s waist. Charlie snuggles closer, lacing his ankles with Desmond’s and letting his chest fit perfectly behind Desmond’s back; they’re both shirtless and Charlie just loves just how soft and warm that skin of Desmond’s is, not to mention that he maintained that lovely tan of his even if the winter had been everything but sunny in Newcastle. He closes his eyes, tightening his hold, savoring the moment…
“Charlie, not that I mind, but you’re bloody chocking me and I’d really love to finish this chapter before turnin’ the light off.”
… until Desmond has to go and ruin the moment. Of course. Charlie rolls his eyes, feels glad that Desmond can’t see him, keeps on wondering what is so interesting about sodding Vanity Fair (how can Desmond get through those books he doesn’t know).
“Oh, bugger, just go on tomorrow.”
“I’m almost done, can’t you just be patient for a second?”
“No, not really. Also, I can’t see why you need get bored to death over that thing when you have two alternatives which, let me tell you, would make a great improvement.”
“Really. And what would they be?”
“Well, on the radio there’s a Beatles special. And Des, you can’t actually tell me that Thackeray is better than the Beatles. There’s a sodding limit to everything.”
“And the other alternative? Y’know I like Pink Floyd better.”
Charlie comes even closer and rubs his hand slowly along Desmond’s chest, smiling as he feels him shiver.
“Well, you can’t really beat the one and only rock god in this room, and I’m including the Beatles too.”
Charlie grins in triumph as Desmond shuts the book close with a sigh.
“You do realize your ego is growing out of proportions, brother? I’ll concede you one, but you beating all four of them? Bloody unlikely.”
But then the light turns off and Desmond’s head falls against the pillow. The music changes to I Wanna Hold Your Hand and Charlie is ready for some undoubtedly immortal remark when Desmond’s hand closes around his, which by chance was over the exact place where Desmond’s heart is.
For once he’s at a loss but well, now he has Desmond’s attention and early Beatles are as good as the late Beatles. Can’t complain, right? Charlie settles back into his found-again fragment of utopia and places a light kiss on Desmond’s shoulder, keeping a remark concerning Paul McCartney being much worse at this than Charlie is to himself. He will use it next time anyway.
End.