Feeling Electric: Time Flies
Fandom: Feeling Electric
Title: Time Flies
Author: Ai (armageddoni)
Pairing: Diana/Dan
Characters: Dan, Natalie and Madden, with mentions of Diana.
Word count: 620 words
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-13, for brief mentions of suicide
Summary: Some decisions are so hard to make...
Notes: Written for school- I got a ten out of ten! The prompt was 'time'. (Sucky prompt, huh? Well, it'll explain a few things about the fic...)
Dedication: To Mary- HAHA! FANFIC FOR SCHOOL!!!
Disclaimer:I do no own FE; Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey do.
Dan Brown’s fingers were getting wrinkly.
Not literally. He wasn’t that old, although if his wife continued to pull these… if his wife continued to attempt to kill herself… God, Diana.
Dan paused, his hands wrist-deep in sudsy water. He glanced at the clock. Three a.m. In any other house, doing the dishes at three in the morning would be considered a little odd, especially when Dan was doing them by hand right next to his perfectly-functioning dishwasher. But Dan needed to think, needed the time to slow down so he could make this decision and maybe time would slow down if he didn’t think about it, if he distracted himself, maybe time would realize there was no way he could think about this and decide in only four hours.
Four hours. Normally, four hours is an eternity. Any decision can be easily made in four hours. At least, any decision but this one. What kind of decision was it, to decide whether or not to shock the painful memories from his wife’s unstable mind?
Dan paused for a moment, and then went back to scrubbing furiously. He rinsed the pan out and then looked around. No other dirty dishes. With a sigh, he reached into the cupboard and pulled out a pile of plates. There was nothing else to do, it was…
3:45. What in the world? Time was flying by. ‘No, wrong’, thought Dan, somewhere between anger and knee-knocking fear. ‘Slower, slower, slower…’
As he went back to scrubbing, instead of focusing purely on getting the non-existant sticky stuff off the dishes, his head was filled with voices.
‘She’s imminently suicidal.’
‘He’s not a ghost!’
‘Dad!’
‘ECT- electro-convulsive therapy.’
‘Shock treatment.’
And finally, the soft coo or his baby son, his precious son, his son who was now dead.
His heart beating wildly, Dan placed the plate on top of the pile, but it fell off, sending several dishes crashing down after it, creating a mess of ceramic and glass and…
Dan leapt back as the deafening crash receded, still ringing in his ears. He let out a hiss of breath, and then glanced at the clock.
5:30, he read in the dim light. No. No. It couldn’t be that late. He had to call Dr. Madden in a few hours, an hour and a half, actually, and tell him his decision about his wife’s treatment. What was his decision? And how could he make a decision as important as this with this mess to clean up?
With a sigh, he knelt down and began to pick up the broken pieces.
“What the hell, Dad?” Dan looked up and saw his daughter, Natalie, standing at the kitchen door.
“Had a little accident.” He tried to smile at her. God, she looked just like her mother. A lot. Dan wondered (quietly, in the back of his mind,) if she would go crazy, just like her mother, if she would try to kill herself, if her husband in the future would stay up and wash dishes.
“Whatever. I’m off to school.” She walked away.
Dan watched her retreating back for a moment, and then looked at the remaining broken pieces. Something in his mind clicked, and he got up and carefully walked around the mess to the phone. He dialed quickly, not wanting to lose his nerve.
Time slowed to nearly a standstill as the phone rang. Dan almost laughed at the irony. With a click, the other line came alive.
“Mr. Brown?” came Dr. Madden’s voice. How the psychologist knew it was him, Dan had no idea.
“Do it,” Dan said. “Do the ECT.” With that, he hung up and slumped back against the wall. It was done.
Title: Time Flies
Author: Ai (armageddoni)
Pairing: Diana/Dan
Characters: Dan, Natalie and Madden, with mentions of Diana.
Word count: 620 words
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-13, for brief mentions of suicide
Summary: Some decisions are so hard to make...
Notes: Written for school- I got a ten out of ten! The prompt was 'time'. (Sucky prompt, huh? Well, it'll explain a few things about the fic...)
Dedication: To Mary- HAHA! FANFIC FOR SCHOOL!!!
Disclaimer:I do no own FE; Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey do.
Dan Brown’s fingers were getting wrinkly.
Not literally. He wasn’t that old, although if his wife continued to pull these… if his wife continued to attempt to kill herself… God, Diana.
Dan paused, his hands wrist-deep in sudsy water. He glanced at the clock. Three a.m. In any other house, doing the dishes at three in the morning would be considered a little odd, especially when Dan was doing them by hand right next to his perfectly-functioning dishwasher. But Dan needed to think, needed the time to slow down so he could make this decision and maybe time would slow down if he didn’t think about it, if he distracted himself, maybe time would realize there was no way he could think about this and decide in only four hours.
Four hours. Normally, four hours is an eternity. Any decision can be easily made in four hours. At least, any decision but this one. What kind of decision was it, to decide whether or not to shock the painful memories from his wife’s unstable mind?
Dan paused for a moment, and then went back to scrubbing furiously. He rinsed the pan out and then looked around. No other dirty dishes. With a sigh, he reached into the cupboard and pulled out a pile of plates. There was nothing else to do, it was…
3:45. What in the world? Time was flying by. ‘No, wrong’, thought Dan, somewhere between anger and knee-knocking fear. ‘Slower, slower, slower…’
As he went back to scrubbing, instead of focusing purely on getting the non-existant sticky stuff off the dishes, his head was filled with voices.
‘She’s imminently suicidal.’
‘He’s not a ghost!’
‘Dad!’
‘ECT- electro-convulsive therapy.’
‘Shock treatment.’
And finally, the soft coo or his baby son, his precious son, his son who was now dead.
His heart beating wildly, Dan placed the plate on top of the pile, but it fell off, sending several dishes crashing down after it, creating a mess of ceramic and glass and…
Dan leapt back as the deafening crash receded, still ringing in his ears. He let out a hiss of breath, and then glanced at the clock.
5:30, he read in the dim light. No. No. It couldn’t be that late. He had to call Dr. Madden in a few hours, an hour and a half, actually, and tell him his decision about his wife’s treatment. What was his decision? And how could he make a decision as important as this with this mess to clean up?
With a sigh, he knelt down and began to pick up the broken pieces.
“What the hell, Dad?” Dan looked up and saw his daughter, Natalie, standing at the kitchen door.
“Had a little accident.” He tried to smile at her. God, she looked just like her mother. A lot. Dan wondered (quietly, in the back of his mind,) if she would go crazy, just like her mother, if she would try to kill herself, if her husband in the future would stay up and wash dishes.
“Whatever. I’m off to school.” She walked away.
Dan watched her retreating back for a moment, and then looked at the remaining broken pieces. Something in his mind clicked, and he got up and carefully walked around the mess to the phone. He dialed quickly, not wanting to lose his nerve.
Time slowed to nearly a standstill as the phone rang. Dan almost laughed at the irony. With a click, the other line came alive.
“Mr. Brown?” came Dr. Madden’s voice. How the psychologist knew it was him, Dan had no idea.
“Do it,” Dan said. “Do the ECT.” With that, he hung up and slumped back against the wall. It was done.