OmgwtfUpdate??
Yes! Update. I'm braving my livejournal. Doesn't actually take that much courage seeing as how I don't really have any friends on here anyways. Not the point.
Anyways! I got a fic to upload. A Life on Mars fic! So here goes:
Title: Falling
Summary: It’ll all be okay. Just so long as he can find what’s real.
Disclaimer: Life on Mars is not mine (I’m no where near awesome enough to come up with a concept as fantastic as that) and I am making no profit through this story.
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It’s not that he doesn’t like them. Not at all. Well not that much and not all of them at least, but that’s not what’s important. The thing is they don’t exist. They don’t know they don’t exist but they don’t.
They just can’t see it.
Sam thinks maybe they’re like the bumble bee. See, bumble bees, they shouldn’t be able to fly -aerodynamically speaking- but no one ever convinced them of it so they just keep doing it anyway. Sam knows he wont be able to convince his fellow officers that they shouldn’t be able to exist -all known understanding of reality speaking-, he couldn’t convince Annie after all and she even likes him, so they’re just gonna carry on existing anyway, the bastards. In their own, non-existing way.
The wind jars him as it passes.
They think he’s insane which is a bit rich considering that even if he were at least he’s still real. But he doesn’t blame them. If someone had turned up at his station in 2006 and started crying out about going home and listening intently to turned off radios, he would have guessed the same thing. Thing is nothing like that could have happened because that would mean that he didn’t exist and he does. He does.
There’s no sand on his fingers this time.
So what he has to do is get home. That much is obvious. The difficulty arises with the fact that he’s already at home. Well some part of him is. His body. The one that exists. So the question is; how do you get back to the place you never fully left? Simple. The way you came. There’s the ethical issue of piling guilt onto an unsuspecting driver by leaping out in front of them, of course, but that’s okay. There’s a way round it.
There’s no echoing footsteps as he treads backwards. You’d think he’d imagine echoing footsteps.
He’s knows they’d miss him if they existed. Well, Annie and Chris would, not Ray maybe and Gene would never admit to it. But they would. See, ‘cause, he fell into this insanity and changed everything, made a space for himself, and that space is going to be empty when he’s not there. Stands to reason.
So it’s a good thing they don’t exist. Breathe deep, Sammy-boy.
He doesn’t take notice of the way these footsteps don’t echo either, or the fact this doesn’t feel like victory, doesn’t feel like going home or the fact that it was always the real things, the real voices in his head that made him feel insane. He doesn’t take notice of the fear in that gruff voice shaping his name, or the footsteps that don’t echo but get louder as the approach. He doesn’t take notice of the way the tears sting his eyes and an intrusive lump forms in his throat at the thought of the man who’s been so dangerous, so safe, so real, watching this. None of it exists.
And if he can hardly run for the trembling in his legs, if he can hardly breathe for the sob caught in his throat, if he can hardly see or hear for the tears in his eyes or the echo of his name in the air, well, that’s okay. None of it is real anyway.
A/N: Please review.
Please read! Please Review!
Night! xx