Songe d'Automne (PG-13)
Title: Songe d'Automne
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 590
Summary: The only two remaining, to carry out a fruitless task. The ending is written in the stars above.
Warnings Major character death
"Bail faster!" Phil said urgently. Sweat ran down his brow & his clothing was water-logged, clinging to him in a very fetching way. Clint looked at him, bucket dangling from his hand. This wasn’t the time for such thoughts, ideas of what might have been. Dark water was up to their ankles on one of the passenger levels of the large ship and it was just the two of them left, men from a time long ago, brought together once more to fight Nature herself. The other men had abandoned like rats, fleeing at the first opportunity. Clint hated them, just a little. He shivered in the cold night air.
"It's useless, maybe we should just give up." Clint stated quietly. The words were sour in his mouth, burning his tongue. The water crept up as the men sloshed about, trying not to trip on the hazards they could no longer see but still feel. Clint swore as he banged his shin into what was likely the card table. “Water’s probably in the engine room by this point and this is just a waiting game.” He looked over the broken window and into the freezing water below. “Unless you want to jump.”
Phil shook his head, because he was a proud man. For all the words at his disposal, the stylized letters that flowed from his nib onto parchment to be read by captains, lords and ladies - ‘defeat’ was not one of them. "No. I will go down with this ship!" Phil said, putting an ink-stained hand on the strong steel hull that was the only (rapidly weakening) barrier. Clint nodded firmly. He could get behind that sort of conviction and mouthed the words to himself, to try them out. It made hauling the buckets of seawater slightly less heavier, at least.
"You and me, together then.” Clint dumped the water overboard through the smashed window and bent at the waist to scoop another. It was more difficult to keep his balance as the floor listed heavily, swaying under his feet. Phil reached out, snagging Clint’s dinner jacket and pulling him upright. Some of the items from a lady’s stateroom went floating past in a current of rushing water. “It'll be just like old times!" Clint grinned brightly, leaning into the other man slightly. Phil let go of his arm and the younger man immediately missed the warmth of the strong grip.
He wasn’t sure how intact his mask of false bravado was; his grin dimmed as the sound of breaking furniture and screams reached their ears.. "Yes, Clint." Phil answered simply. Music filtered from the decks above, a brisk and happy tune. Clint concentrated on the melody in favor of the other sounds.
Then Phil’s words registered in his brain. "You know my name!" Phil smiled grimly as he tossed another bucket overboard. It didn’t seem like it was making much of a difference anymore. Clint was having trouble feeling his toes, the same ones that had pinched earlier in the dress shoes. The water was swirling around their waist.
"I know everything, and I know there's nothing to be afraid of." Phil's face softened in the waning light. “Come here and we shall greet Death as an old friend.” There was a tremendous crash, the hull finally giving way from the increasing pressure. Water rushed in and the two friends from different stations in life met it head on.
It was the two of them, holding hands, and waiting for the wrath of Nature to deliver her final blow.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 590
Summary: The only two remaining, to carry out a fruitless task. The ending is written in the stars above.
Warnings Major character death
"Bail faster!" Phil said urgently. Sweat ran down his brow & his clothing was water-logged, clinging to him in a very fetching way. Clint looked at him, bucket dangling from his hand. This wasn’t the time for such thoughts, ideas of what might have been. Dark water was up to their ankles on one of the passenger levels of the large ship and it was just the two of them left, men from a time long ago, brought together once more to fight Nature herself. The other men had abandoned like rats, fleeing at the first opportunity. Clint hated them, just a little. He shivered in the cold night air.
"It's useless, maybe we should just give up." Clint stated quietly. The words were sour in his mouth, burning his tongue. The water crept up as the men sloshed about, trying not to trip on the hazards they could no longer see but still feel. Clint swore as he banged his shin into what was likely the card table. “Water’s probably in the engine room by this point and this is just a waiting game.” He looked over the broken window and into the freezing water below. “Unless you want to jump.”
Phil shook his head, because he was a proud man. For all the words at his disposal, the stylized letters that flowed from his nib onto parchment to be read by captains, lords and ladies - ‘defeat’ was not one of them. "No. I will go down with this ship!" Phil said, putting an ink-stained hand on the strong steel hull that was the only (rapidly weakening) barrier. Clint nodded firmly. He could get behind that sort of conviction and mouthed the words to himself, to try them out. It made hauling the buckets of seawater slightly less heavier, at least.
"You and me, together then.” Clint dumped the water overboard through the smashed window and bent at the waist to scoop another. It was more difficult to keep his balance as the floor listed heavily, swaying under his feet. Phil reached out, snagging Clint’s dinner jacket and pulling him upright. Some of the items from a lady’s stateroom went floating past in a current of rushing water. “It'll be just like old times!" Clint grinned brightly, leaning into the other man slightly. Phil let go of his arm and the younger man immediately missed the warmth of the strong grip.
He wasn’t sure how intact his mask of false bravado was; his grin dimmed as the sound of breaking furniture and screams reached their ears.. "Yes, Clint." Phil answered simply. Music filtered from the decks above, a brisk and happy tune. Clint concentrated on the melody in favor of the other sounds.
Then Phil’s words registered in his brain. "You know my name!" Phil smiled grimly as he tossed another bucket overboard. It didn’t seem like it was making much of a difference anymore. Clint was having trouble feeling his toes, the same ones that had pinched earlier in the dress shoes. The water was swirling around their waist.
"I know everything, and I know there's nothing to be afraid of." Phil's face softened in the waning light. “Come here and we shall greet Death as an old friend.” There was a tremendous crash, the hull finally giving way from the increasing pressure. Water rushed in and the two friends from different stations in life met it head on.
It was the two of them, holding hands, and waiting for the wrath of Nature to deliver her final blow.