Fiction The Choice
Here is an odd little thing that wouldn't leave me alone until i wrote it.
Title: The Choice
Author: Loralee
Rating: Teen maybe
Word Count: 248
Warning: don't think i need one
Disclaimer: I don't own them
Summary: Ducky must choose between an old lover and a current one
The blond man shook his head, confused for a moment. Had he heard shots? He looked around to find himself standing on a street corner in a thick fog. The light from the street lamp casting a eerie quality to the evening.
"Hello, Illya," spoke a dark hair man stepping out from the fog.
"Napoleon," he said with a smile, greeting the man..
There were indistinguishable voices from behind that distracted him for a moment.
"Come with me, Illya," said Napoleon.
"Where-"
"Ducky!" the voice came from behind and spoke of hurt and anguish.
The blond man hesitated and seemed to grow older.
"Napoleon, I thought you were dead," he said with some puzzlement.
"I am," Napoleon agreed.
"Oh, am I dead?"
The anguished cry came again cause the blond to turn with a frown, "Jethro?"
Again he aged.
"Not quite yet," said Napoleon attracting his attention once more.
"I see," he said.
Napoleon held out a hand, "Come with me."
"Ducky, please, hang on, don't leave me," cried the voice in the distance.
"He sounds upset," said Napoleon, hand dropping to his side and leaning against the lamp post.
"Yes, he's my friend," Ducky turned again toward the distant voice.
"I understand, Illya, go. I'll be here when you're ready. I'll look forward to meeting your friend, someday. No hurry," said Napoleon a wry little smile on his face.
Ducky smiled back and turning toward the voice strode off into the fog back toward life and Jethro.
AN: Comments and suggestions welcome.
Title: The Choice
Author: Loralee
Rating: Teen maybe
Word Count: 248
Warning: don't think i need one
Disclaimer: I don't own them
Summary: Ducky must choose between an old lover and a current one
The blond man shook his head, confused for a moment. Had he heard shots? He looked around to find himself standing on a street corner in a thick fog. The light from the street lamp casting a eerie quality to the evening.
"Hello, Illya," spoke a dark hair man stepping out from the fog.
"Napoleon," he said with a smile, greeting the man..
There were indistinguishable voices from behind that distracted him for a moment.
"Come with me, Illya," said Napoleon.
"Where-"
"Ducky!" the voice came from behind and spoke of hurt and anguish.
The blond man hesitated and seemed to grow older.
"Napoleon, I thought you were dead," he said with some puzzlement.
"I am," Napoleon agreed.
"Oh, am I dead?"
The anguished cry came again cause the blond to turn with a frown, "Jethro?"
Again he aged.
"Not quite yet," said Napoleon attracting his attention once more.
"I see," he said.
Napoleon held out a hand, "Come with me."
"Ducky, please, hang on, don't leave me," cried the voice in the distance.
"He sounds upset," said Napoleon, hand dropping to his side and leaning against the lamp post.
"Yes, he's my friend," Ducky turned again toward the distant voice.
"I understand, Illya, go. I'll be here when you're ready. I'll look forward to meeting your friend, someday. No hurry," said Napoleon a wry little smile on his face.
Ducky smiled back and turning toward the voice strode off into the fog back toward life and Jethro.
AN: Comments and suggestions welcome.