Two Lost Ficlets (Miles/Richard, Ben & The MIB)
Title: we must be traveling on now
Pairing: Miles/Richard
Rating: PG-13
Words: 750
Spoilers: Through “The End”.
Disclaimer: Not mine. (Title adapted from “Free Bird”, yeah, I went there.)
Summary: Miles is waiting for something, he just doesn’t know it yet.
A/N: Written for the lostsquee ficlet challenge using the prompts cream & laser.
Miles doesn’t take his full lunch hour these days. It seems pretty pointless since Jim transferred so suddenly. Instead he usually wolfs down a cheeseburger at the diner down the street from the station and heads back in to catch up on paperwork. It kind of sucks to be honest. Hell, Jim didn’t even say goodbye. No forwarding address, nothing. He thought they were buddies, but he guesses he was wrong.
The diner’s pretty much deserted today. Miles likes it that way; he lingers a little longer than usual, even orders a slice of blueberry pie. It’s good and Nancy behind the counter gives him an extra dollop of whip cream.
He stops mid-bite when this shady looking guy comes walking through the door with a baseball cap pulled down to hide his eyes. There’s something about this man that sets Miles on edge, leaves him feeling uneasy. The guy doesn’t help his case any when he takes the booth at the very back of the diner and promptly disappears behind a newspaper.
Miles has seen this crap a thousand times before. He might as well be screaming, I’m going to rob this place and shoot poor Nancy from behind the counter in the head because I’m an idiot with an itchy trigger finger.
Miles’s foot begins to twitch under the table. He figures he’s got two options here, he can either wait for this guy to do something stupid or he can get up and go introduce himself and his badge to Mr. I Wear Baseball Caps On Cloudy Days.
He chooses the latter. Miles takes one last bite of pie, savoring the sweet taste of cream and blueberries on his tongue before getting up and walking as quietly as he can to the back of the restaurant and sliding into the guy’s booth. He makes sure his badge is visible around his neck before he clears his throat.
“Any good news?” Miles asks casually. He expects the perp (okay, potential perp) to jump, but he doesn’t even look fazed as he folds his paper, in fact he looks right at Miles and smiles.
Miles shivers. There’s something off about this, something vaguely familiar.
“There was a benefit concert last week. The paper said it was a success, there was even a baby born backstage, no word on who the mother was though. She seems to have disappeared.”
There’s been a lot of that going around lately.
“Yeah, I know. It was for my Dad’s museum.”
“Small world,” the guy says. His smile is soft and it’s the weirdest thing, Miles could swear he could feel the hot summer sun beating down on his neck suddenly as he looked down at this very man across from him, sprawled in a field somewhere. Miles shakes his head, trying to force the image away.
“Is there a reason you joined me?”
The man’s voice is gentle. Miles licks his lips, trying to stay focused even as he feels like he’s wandered into an episode of The Twilight Zone.
“You look kind of suspicious, man. I’m a cop; I’m supposed to notice these things."
“Are sure that’s the only reason?”
The guy leans in and covers Miles’s hand with his own and Miles suddenly can’t breathe. It’s sort of like that time he went to that crazy concert with the seizure inducing laser light show only way more intense. His sense are flooded with sights and sounds, tastes, memories that aren’t quite his own, except that they are---
There’s an island, a blinding light and searing pain, and then this man---Richard---on a dock, in a plane, their bodies pushing against one another, Miles moaning his name, a tiny apartment in Encino, the two of them laughing, kissing, fucking, and then Richard crying, his hot tears falling on Miles’s face, tasting warm and salty on his tongue as Miles tries to promise him everything’s going to be okay---
Miles blinks back tears. He’s shaking and freaking the hell out, but then Richard pulls him to his feet and crushes Miles against his chest. The smell of him is so familiar; it settles Miles, brings him back.
“What the hell took you so long?” Miles mutters.
Richard laughs and presses a kiss to Miles’s temple.
“I’m sorry; I came as fast I could. Are you ready to go?”
Miles nods, twines his fingers through Richard’s.
“Yeah, I think I am.”
They leave the diner hand in hand; ready to face whatever lies ahead.
Title: It Only Ends Once (And it Hasn’t Ended Yet)
Characters: Ben, The MIB
Rating: PG
Words: 800
Spoilers: Through “The End”.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: There’s no such thing as happily ever after.
A/N: Written for the lostsquee ficlet challenge using the prompts pole & evil.
Ben makes his way to his old friend’s apartment complex all the while trying to fight the growing sense of dread gnawing at his gut. He should be back at the church with the others but he can’t leave yet, at least not until he’s sure.
The building comes into sight and Ben’s eyes are drawn upwards to the black flag flying at the top of the pole situated in the center of the square. He’d always wondered about the symbol in the middle, the scales in perfect balance. His friend always said it was nothing more than a motto. Living in balance, something poetic and fitting for a community of retired intellectuals.
Ben takes a deep breath and knocks on the door, it opens almost immediately and Ben’s heart sinks. He can see him for what he is now.
The Man in Black smiles sadly.
“Hello, Ben.”
There’s a Doors album playing on the turntable, scratchy and old. Ben doesn’t recognize the song, but it’s mournful and unsettling. He wishes he could ask Jacob---no, not Jacob, he reminds himself---to turn it off.
The Man in Black presses a warm cup of tea into Ben’s hand and motions for him to sit.
“How’s enlightenment treating you, friend?”
Ben takes a small sip of his tea, it’s good, peppermint. He wonders how afraid he should be, but his companion looks relaxed, a bit disappointed maybe, but certainly not malevolent.
“It’s wonderful, there’s nothing like remembering every rotten thing you ever did in your life to make you feel really alive,” Ben mutters.
“Dead,” The Man in Black corrects.
“Of course, I keep forgetting.”
The Man in Black sits with his head cocked slightly to one side listening to the music. There’s a jar of peanut butter by his seat and from time to time he’ll dip a spoon in and take a big bite, his eyes closing as if he’s relishing the taste. It’s a familiar scene. Ben’s been here many times before, sipping tea and debating politics with a man he considered his best (his only) friend.
“Why did you take his name?” Ben asks.
“Because he took mine.”
Ben waits for him to elaborate further, but the man who isn’t Jacob just takes another bite of his peanut butter.
“Why are you here, Ben?”
“I need to know what you’re going to do to us.”
The Man in Black arches his eyebrow, something like pity flashing across his face.
“Did you go inside the church, Ben?”
Ben shakes his head.
“I didn’t think so. If you had, you would have heard the big speech. The pretty story about unity and harmony, about how you were all the most important part of each others lives and now you could ascend into a glowing, eternal light of happiness and everything would be beautiful all of the time.”
“That sounds…”Ben trails off.
“Unlikely?”
“Yes.”
The Man in Black chuckles.
“That’s why I always liked you, friend, you’re very good at smelling bullshit. One part of that story is true. You all need each other. But you need me too. And Jacob. You need the hell, the pain, the hurt, the death. That’s life and it’s not over, I’m sorry to say.”
Ben grits his teeth, fighting against the anger growing inside of him. He hadn’t missed this, this hatred. It’s back now almost as if it had never gone.
He looks around the room, at the shelves lined with records and books, at the photos on the wall, each showing some distant, exotic locale and then back at this man who he had trusted for so long.
“You don’t want to go,” Ben says slowly.
The Man in Black shakes his head, his fingers trailing the worn arm of his recliner lovingly.
“Of course not, I’m free here. I can see the world, I can come and go, that’s all I ever wanted.”
“So stay.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” Ben asks, desperation tainting his words.
The Man in Black sighs and points towards a closet across the room.
“You see that door? I’ve never opened it, but tonight I feel this tug deep down in the pit of my gut. It’s time to go through. I can sit here and eat my peanut butter for as long as I want but it’s not going to change the fact that this place is crumbling. Time’s up. We have to do this all over again.”
“What if I don’t want to?” Ben asks.
The Man in Black takes one final bite of his peanut butter, his tongue darting out to lick the spoon and then he pats Ben on his shoulder as he heads to the door.
“Doesn’t matter what you want, friend, only matters what is.”
With that he disappears beyond the door leaving Ben alone in the room with nothing but Jim Morrison’s voice mournfully singing about sinking down.
Pairing: Miles/Richard
Rating: PG-13
Words: 750
Spoilers: Through “The End”.
Disclaimer: Not mine. (Title adapted from “Free Bird”, yeah, I went there.)
Summary: Miles is waiting for something, he just doesn’t know it yet.
A/N: Written for the lostsquee ficlet challenge using the prompts cream & laser.
Miles doesn’t take his full lunch hour these days. It seems pretty pointless since Jim transferred so suddenly. Instead he usually wolfs down a cheeseburger at the diner down the street from the station and heads back in to catch up on paperwork. It kind of sucks to be honest. Hell, Jim didn’t even say goodbye. No forwarding address, nothing. He thought they were buddies, but he guesses he was wrong.
The diner’s pretty much deserted today. Miles likes it that way; he lingers a little longer than usual, even orders a slice of blueberry pie. It’s good and Nancy behind the counter gives him an extra dollop of whip cream.
He stops mid-bite when this shady looking guy comes walking through the door with a baseball cap pulled down to hide his eyes. There’s something about this man that sets Miles on edge, leaves him feeling uneasy. The guy doesn’t help his case any when he takes the booth at the very back of the diner and promptly disappears behind a newspaper.
Miles has seen this crap a thousand times before. He might as well be screaming, I’m going to rob this place and shoot poor Nancy from behind the counter in the head because I’m an idiot with an itchy trigger finger.
Miles’s foot begins to twitch under the table. He figures he’s got two options here, he can either wait for this guy to do something stupid or he can get up and go introduce himself and his badge to Mr. I Wear Baseball Caps On Cloudy Days.
He chooses the latter. Miles takes one last bite of pie, savoring the sweet taste of cream and blueberries on his tongue before getting up and walking as quietly as he can to the back of the restaurant and sliding into the guy’s booth. He makes sure his badge is visible around his neck before he clears his throat.
“Any good news?” Miles asks casually. He expects the perp (okay, potential perp) to jump, but he doesn’t even look fazed as he folds his paper, in fact he looks right at Miles and smiles.
Miles shivers. There’s something off about this, something vaguely familiar.
“There was a benefit concert last week. The paper said it was a success, there was even a baby born backstage, no word on who the mother was though. She seems to have disappeared.”
There’s been a lot of that going around lately.
“Yeah, I know. It was for my Dad’s museum.”
“Small world,” the guy says. His smile is soft and it’s the weirdest thing, Miles could swear he could feel the hot summer sun beating down on his neck suddenly as he looked down at this very man across from him, sprawled in a field somewhere. Miles shakes his head, trying to force the image away.
“Is there a reason you joined me?”
The man’s voice is gentle. Miles licks his lips, trying to stay focused even as he feels like he’s wandered into an episode of The Twilight Zone.
“You look kind of suspicious, man. I’m a cop; I’m supposed to notice these things."
“Are sure that’s the only reason?”
The guy leans in and covers Miles’s hand with his own and Miles suddenly can’t breathe. It’s sort of like that time he went to that crazy concert with the seizure inducing laser light show only way more intense. His sense are flooded with sights and sounds, tastes, memories that aren’t quite his own, except that they are---
There’s an island, a blinding light and searing pain, and then this man---Richard---on a dock, in a plane, their bodies pushing against one another, Miles moaning his name, a tiny apartment in Encino, the two of them laughing, kissing, fucking, and then Richard crying, his hot tears falling on Miles’s face, tasting warm and salty on his tongue as Miles tries to promise him everything’s going to be okay---
Miles blinks back tears. He’s shaking and freaking the hell out, but then Richard pulls him to his feet and crushes Miles against his chest. The smell of him is so familiar; it settles Miles, brings him back.
“What the hell took you so long?” Miles mutters.
Richard laughs and presses a kiss to Miles’s temple.
“I’m sorry; I came as fast I could. Are you ready to go?”
Miles nods, twines his fingers through Richard’s.
“Yeah, I think I am.”
They leave the diner hand in hand; ready to face whatever lies ahead.
Title: It Only Ends Once (And it Hasn’t Ended Yet)
Characters: Ben, The MIB
Rating: PG
Words: 800
Spoilers: Through “The End”.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: There’s no such thing as happily ever after.
A/N: Written for the lostsquee ficlet challenge using the prompts pole & evil.
Ben makes his way to his old friend’s apartment complex all the while trying to fight the growing sense of dread gnawing at his gut. He should be back at the church with the others but he can’t leave yet, at least not until he’s sure.
The building comes into sight and Ben’s eyes are drawn upwards to the black flag flying at the top of the pole situated in the center of the square. He’d always wondered about the symbol in the middle, the scales in perfect balance. His friend always said it was nothing more than a motto. Living in balance, something poetic and fitting for a community of retired intellectuals.
Ben takes a deep breath and knocks on the door, it opens almost immediately and Ben’s heart sinks. He can see him for what he is now.
The Man in Black smiles sadly.
“Hello, Ben.”
There’s a Doors album playing on the turntable, scratchy and old. Ben doesn’t recognize the song, but it’s mournful and unsettling. He wishes he could ask Jacob---no, not Jacob, he reminds himself---to turn it off.
The Man in Black presses a warm cup of tea into Ben’s hand and motions for him to sit.
“How’s enlightenment treating you, friend?”
Ben takes a small sip of his tea, it’s good, peppermint. He wonders how afraid he should be, but his companion looks relaxed, a bit disappointed maybe, but certainly not malevolent.
“It’s wonderful, there’s nothing like remembering every rotten thing you ever did in your life to make you feel really alive,” Ben mutters.
“Dead,” The Man in Black corrects.
“Of course, I keep forgetting.”
The Man in Black sits with his head cocked slightly to one side listening to the music. There’s a jar of peanut butter by his seat and from time to time he’ll dip a spoon in and take a big bite, his eyes closing as if he’s relishing the taste. It’s a familiar scene. Ben’s been here many times before, sipping tea and debating politics with a man he considered his best (his only) friend.
“Why did you take his name?” Ben asks.
“Because he took mine.”
Ben waits for him to elaborate further, but the man who isn’t Jacob just takes another bite of his peanut butter.
“Why are you here, Ben?”
“I need to know what you’re going to do to us.”
The Man in Black arches his eyebrow, something like pity flashing across his face.
“Did you go inside the church, Ben?”
Ben shakes his head.
“I didn’t think so. If you had, you would have heard the big speech. The pretty story about unity and harmony, about how you were all the most important part of each others lives and now you could ascend into a glowing, eternal light of happiness and everything would be beautiful all of the time.”
“That sounds…”Ben trails off.
“Unlikely?”
“Yes.”
The Man in Black chuckles.
“That’s why I always liked you, friend, you’re very good at smelling bullshit. One part of that story is true. You all need each other. But you need me too. And Jacob. You need the hell, the pain, the hurt, the death. That’s life and it’s not over, I’m sorry to say.”
Ben grits his teeth, fighting against the anger growing inside of him. He hadn’t missed this, this hatred. It’s back now almost as if it had never gone.
He looks around the room, at the shelves lined with records and books, at the photos on the wall, each showing some distant, exotic locale and then back at this man who he had trusted for so long.
“You don’t want to go,” Ben says slowly.
The Man in Black shakes his head, his fingers trailing the worn arm of his recliner lovingly.
“Of course not, I’m free here. I can see the world, I can come and go, that’s all I ever wanted.”
“So stay.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” Ben asks, desperation tainting his words.
The Man in Black sighs and points towards a closet across the room.
“You see that door? I’ve never opened it, but tonight I feel this tug deep down in the pit of my gut. It’s time to go through. I can sit here and eat my peanut butter for as long as I want but it’s not going to change the fact that this place is crumbling. Time’s up. We have to do this all over again.”
“What if I don’t want to?” Ben asks.
The Man in Black takes one final bite of his peanut butter, his tongue darting out to lick the spoon and then he pats Ben on his shoulder as he heads to the door.
“Doesn’t matter what you want, friend, only matters what is.”
With that he disappears beyond the door leaving Ben alone in the room with nothing but Jim Morrison’s voice mournfully singing about sinking down.