Flashpoint fic: Secrets
HA! I did it. I finished something! Not a long something, it's pretty short, but I like how it turned out. And I must be getting serious, I dug out my soundtrack to "The Sentinel" to listen to while working on it. That used to be my go to music for fic writing back in the day. ;)
This is unbeta-ed, so if you notice something, go ahead and tell me. I'll probably post this to ff.net in a few days. Also, if you have a better title suggestion, feel free to let me know. I hate naming stories... seriously, most of my stuff on my computer is labled something like "untitled ed-sophie", "untitled jules fic", or "untitled dead plot bunny"
Title: Secrets
Author: Loisarah
Rating: T to be safe
Summary: Sophie ponders the meaning of Ed's locked cabinet in their garage.
Timeline: Set during Season 1, sometime between Scorpio and Haunting the Barn.
Warnings: Angsty, but nothing worse than what's on the show.
Spoilers: Scorpio, Haunting the Barn too, most of season 1 to be safe
Author's notes: I've been thinking a lot about Ed and Sophie, and as I went back and watched season 1, I had some thoughts. And this is for Tristen84
Disclaimer: No money, don't sue. Fan writing for fun not profit. I write fic to encourage people to watch and continue to watch the show.
Sophie stepped into the garage with an empty laundry basket, intent on getting clothes out of the dryer to fold. She tried to avoid looking at it. She always tried. She always failed.
There it was, on the wall, the locked cabinet. Ed's domain. The only thing in the entire house he kept from her. She had no idea what was in it. She was pretty sure it wasn't weapons of any kind. Which made her even more upset, thinking it was something deeply personal, that he couldn't trust her with. Or wouldn't.
With a sigh she turned back to the laundry, but the cabinet was still on her mind. It often weighed heavily on her mind. She didn't expect him to tell her his every thought, god knows she didn't want to do the same for him, but the cabinet often felt like a betrayal, and she couldn't figure out why.
Frustrated, she roughly shook out and folded the towels, taking out her frustrations on inanimate objects. One by one she folded them quickly. Taking up the basket, she turned again to the door, pausing as usual to look at the dreaded cabinet. She hated the cabinet because it represented the wall between her and her husband. He came out here to the cabinet when he was particularly stressed about work, when he needed to process something he couldn't, or wouldn't talk to her about.
She wished desperately that he would. She wanted to help him. His job was tough, and when he needed to talk, she wanted him to talk to her. But he wouldn't. He'd sigh, and tell her he's fine, sometimes giving her a fake smile, to try to reassure her. She wasn't fooled. And she knew he was trying to protect her, but all it did was make her feel worse. And frustrated. She didn't expect him to tell her everything, but to admit when he wasn't fine, when he had a rough day, to not try to protect her from him or his job.
He'd been spending a lot of time in the garage, with his secrets, since the incident at First York Plaza. She knew it had been a rough day for him. She'd heard, on the news, not from Ed, that he'd narrowly missed hitting the gunman's son, but he wouldn't talk about it.
The way he'd clung to Clark after he'd gotten home had made her ache for him. She'd tried, once, to get him to talk about it, but the brief, haunted look in his eyes and the terse, “I'm fine, Soph,” had made her drop the subject reluctantly. She wanted to help him, but she didn't want to make things worse for him or their relationship.
If she felt that his time alone in the garage, with his secrets, made him feel better, it probably wouldn't bother her so much. If anything, his mood often seemed darker once he came back into the house.
With a final sigh and long stare at the cabinet, Sophie, her laundry basket, and her thoughts left the garage.
This is unbeta-ed, so if you notice something, go ahead and tell me. I'll probably post this to ff.net in a few days. Also, if you have a better title suggestion, feel free to let me know. I hate naming stories... seriously, most of my stuff on my computer is labled something like "untitled ed-sophie", "untitled jules fic", or "untitled dead plot bunny"
Title: Secrets
Author: Loisarah
Rating: T to be safe
Summary: Sophie ponders the meaning of Ed's locked cabinet in their garage.
Timeline: Set during Season 1, sometime between Scorpio and Haunting the Barn.
Warnings: Angsty, but nothing worse than what's on the show.
Spoilers: Scorpio, Haunting the Barn too, most of season 1 to be safe
Author's notes: I've been thinking a lot about Ed and Sophie, and as I went back and watched season 1, I had some thoughts. And this is for Tristen84
Disclaimer: No money, don't sue. Fan writing for fun not profit. I write fic to encourage people to watch and continue to watch the show.
Sophie stepped into the garage with an empty laundry basket, intent on getting clothes out of the dryer to fold. She tried to avoid looking at it. She always tried. She always failed.
There it was, on the wall, the locked cabinet. Ed's domain. The only thing in the entire house he kept from her. She had no idea what was in it. She was pretty sure it wasn't weapons of any kind. Which made her even more upset, thinking it was something deeply personal, that he couldn't trust her with. Or wouldn't.
With a sigh she turned back to the laundry, but the cabinet was still on her mind. It often weighed heavily on her mind. She didn't expect him to tell her his every thought, god knows she didn't want to do the same for him, but the cabinet often felt like a betrayal, and she couldn't figure out why.
Frustrated, she roughly shook out and folded the towels, taking out her frustrations on inanimate objects. One by one she folded them quickly. Taking up the basket, she turned again to the door, pausing as usual to look at the dreaded cabinet. She hated the cabinet because it represented the wall between her and her husband. He came out here to the cabinet when he was particularly stressed about work, when he needed to process something he couldn't, or wouldn't talk to her about.
She wished desperately that he would. She wanted to help him. His job was tough, and when he needed to talk, she wanted him to talk to her. But he wouldn't. He'd sigh, and tell her he's fine, sometimes giving her a fake smile, to try to reassure her. She wasn't fooled. And she knew he was trying to protect her, but all it did was make her feel worse. And frustrated. She didn't expect him to tell her everything, but to admit when he wasn't fine, when he had a rough day, to not try to protect her from him or his job.
He'd been spending a lot of time in the garage, with his secrets, since the incident at First York Plaza. She knew it had been a rough day for him. She'd heard, on the news, not from Ed, that he'd narrowly missed hitting the gunman's son, but he wouldn't talk about it.
The way he'd clung to Clark after he'd gotten home had made her ache for him. She'd tried, once, to get him to talk about it, but the brief, haunted look in his eyes and the terse, “I'm fine, Soph,” had made her drop the subject reluctantly. She wanted to help him, but she didn't want to make things worse for him or their relationship.
If she felt that his time alone in the garage, with his secrets, made him feel better, it probably wouldn't bother her so much. If anything, his mood often seemed darker once he came back into the house.
With a final sigh and long stare at the cabinet, Sophie, her laundry basket, and her thoughts left the garage.