(no subject)
Title: Dead Like Me
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Gibb+Dinozzo
Summery: Once upon a time, I died, but that’s only the beginning. A Tony story.
A/N. Well, I'm a horrible person, starting a new ficcie, but this idea refused to leave me alone, the bunny spawned from that pest Dinozzo refusing to leave me alone and an evening of V for Vendetta. Don't ask me how the movie inspired this, but it did. Besides, I'd been itching for a chance to use this Once Upon A Time line. This fic will be solely motivated on responses, unlike my others. I have it entirely mapped out, but the drive to write will be up to you people, if you want to see more. Still. I hope you enjoy the Prolog. I enjoyed writing it.
Dead Like Me
Prolog
In the Rain
Every story worth its salt has an exciting beginning, some sort of attention-grabber to snag your notice and draw you into the tale. There are many varying ways to begin such a tale as mine. I could speak of life and death, of the symbolism of being shot by your own gun, or the strange hollow sensation of your blood leaving your body. I could speak of these things, but they’d ring too trite, too overdone, too Hollywood. For there is no real way to describe it to you, here at the beginning and the end. Here, at the introduction of my tale.
Once upon a time, I died.
There are many things you lose when you die, things that you would not have thought of in any other situation. One would expect to see their past life flashing before their eyes. For those poor people I pity, because there are few people I know that would enjoy such a sight. Yet the first thing you lose is not your breath, nor your heart’s frantic workings. No, my friend, the very first thing that is lost upon death is your pretenses. Dying isn’t like going to sleep but as though you just woke up and you find yourself aware that everything you believed, everything you hold precious and true, was all simply a dream.
It takes a man strong in faith to hold on his believes through the transition. All mental barriers and half-believed lies are stripped away from the only Truth in human existence. I suppose it goes to show what kind of man I am when my very first words are after my death are,
“Shit, Gibbs is going to be pissed!”
Now stay with me on this, statistics say that 90% of the world’s population believes in some sort of afterlife, so try not to be too skeptical on my speaking after my own death. Still, I do admit it was quite a shock myself. There is really no way for me to describe to you the feeling of staring at your own mortal remains. The best I can say is a sort of mix of horror and relief. What can I say, its horrifying to find yourself dead, but at least there is a you to find you dead. It is a sort of feeling at the end of a cosmic bad joke; you find yourself at the end of it and yet you still don’t understand the punch line.
Then comes the inevitable next question. What now? There is no bright light, no glowing stairway to heaven, no angels, which is something of a disappointment. Then again, there is no fire and brimstone, no malformed creatures clawing out of the woodwork, which is rather a relief. No, there is only me staring down at, well, what I can only describe as the body since it cannot be me, because I’m standing right here, slowly saturating in the pelting rain, washing evidence of my murder away.
“Damn!”
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Gibb+Dinozzo
Summery: Once upon a time, I died, but that’s only the beginning. A Tony story.
A/N. Well, I'm a horrible person, starting a new ficcie, but this idea refused to leave me alone, the bunny spawned from that pest Dinozzo refusing to leave me alone and an evening of V for Vendetta. Don't ask me how the movie inspired this, but it did. Besides, I'd been itching for a chance to use this Once Upon A Time line. This fic will be solely motivated on responses, unlike my others. I have it entirely mapped out, but the drive to write will be up to you people, if you want to see more. Still. I hope you enjoy the Prolog. I enjoyed writing it.
Dead Like Me
Prolog
In the Rain
Every story worth its salt has an exciting beginning, some sort of attention-grabber to snag your notice and draw you into the tale. There are many varying ways to begin such a tale as mine. I could speak of life and death, of the symbolism of being shot by your own gun, or the strange hollow sensation of your blood leaving your body. I could speak of these things, but they’d ring too trite, too overdone, too Hollywood. For there is no real way to describe it to you, here at the beginning and the end. Here, at the introduction of my tale.
Once upon a time, I died.
There are many things you lose when you die, things that you would not have thought of in any other situation. One would expect to see their past life flashing before their eyes. For those poor people I pity, because there are few people I know that would enjoy such a sight. Yet the first thing you lose is not your breath, nor your heart’s frantic workings. No, my friend, the very first thing that is lost upon death is your pretenses. Dying isn’t like going to sleep but as though you just woke up and you find yourself aware that everything you believed, everything you hold precious and true, was all simply a dream.
It takes a man strong in faith to hold on his believes through the transition. All mental barriers and half-believed lies are stripped away from the only Truth in human existence. I suppose it goes to show what kind of man I am when my very first words are after my death are,
“Shit, Gibbs is going to be pissed!”
Now stay with me on this, statistics say that 90% of the world’s population believes in some sort of afterlife, so try not to be too skeptical on my speaking after my own death. Still, I do admit it was quite a shock myself. There is really no way for me to describe to you the feeling of staring at your own mortal remains. The best I can say is a sort of mix of horror and relief. What can I say, its horrifying to find yourself dead, but at least there is a you to find you dead. It is a sort of feeling at the end of a cosmic bad joke; you find yourself at the end of it and yet you still don’t understand the punch line.
Then comes the inevitable next question. What now? There is no bright light, no glowing stairway to heaven, no angels, which is something of a disappointment. Then again, there is no fire and brimstone, no malformed creatures clawing out of the woodwork, which is rather a relief. No, there is only me staring down at, well, what I can only describe as the body since it cannot be me, because I’m standing right here, slowly saturating in the pelting rain, washing evidence of my murder away.
“Damn!”