A bit of post-Emmys fic
Title: The Ride Home
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Work of parody. Not real, not mine.
A snippet from the fifth season. Stephen is supposedly overseas (actually killed by Murdoxia, though Jon's memory of that is temporarily blocked), and Jon feels particularly lonely after (the travesty that was) the '09 Emmys.
Jon felt strangely empty as he sat back in the limo, statuette in hand.
Okay, he had never put much value on these things in the first place; and there were, as John had said, far too many on his shelf already. But he normally enjoyed the parties, the celebrations, the joy in the faces of the writers at having their hard work recognized. Not this time.
It probably had something to do with the Foximamates. Sailor Angry Bill, Sailor Pompous Sean, and now Sailor Crazy Beck were attacking all over the place in search of Sailor Crystals, with such ferocity that it was exhausting everyone. There had even been an incident on the red carpet before the show, though Sailor Oliver and Sailor Riggle had taken care of it without Jon needing to get involved.
For all that Jon was trying to be strong, he could see that his friends were worrying.
If only he could have accepted the statue for Stephen in absentia. With Stephen himself in Iraq, Demetri returned to the future, and so many of the other sailors busy with their own projects, it might have made him feel less alone.
Iraq....
Why hadn't Stephen called? Or emailed? Or done anything besides send cryptic postcards with no words on them?
Jon pressed his fingers to his temples. He felt a headache coming on.
"Schmon?"
The pounding in Jon's head subsided as he met his companion's eyes.
Schmon (dubbed after the only word he seemed to say) smiled hopefully and held out his arms for a hug.
"You always seem to know when I'm feeling down, don't you?" murmured Jon, as he put the statue aside and gathered the little boy into his lap.
"Schmon," agreed the kid, stretching his arms across Jon's chest.
With a sigh, Jon stroked Schmon's hair. "There's something I've forgotten," he murmured, mostly to himself. "I know it's there, I know it's important, but every time I try to think about it, it slips away...."
Schmon cuddled quietly against him, and Jon willed himself to relax. Things would work out. It looked bleak now, but teamwork, friendship, and love would win in the end. They had to. And this time next year Stephen would be back, and standing on the stage with a fresh golden statue of his own.
Jon held that image in his heart as the car sped on into the night.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Work of parody. Not real, not mine.
A snippet from the fifth season. Stephen is supposedly overseas (actually killed by Murdoxia, though Jon's memory of that is temporarily blocked), and Jon feels particularly lonely after (the travesty that was) the '09 Emmys.
Jon felt strangely empty as he sat back in the limo, statuette in hand.
Okay, he had never put much value on these things in the first place; and there were, as John had said, far too many on his shelf already. But he normally enjoyed the parties, the celebrations, the joy in the faces of the writers at having their hard work recognized. Not this time.
It probably had something to do with the Foximamates. Sailor Angry Bill, Sailor Pompous Sean, and now Sailor Crazy Beck were attacking all over the place in search of Sailor Crystals, with such ferocity that it was exhausting everyone. There had even been an incident on the red carpet before the show, though Sailor Oliver and Sailor Riggle had taken care of it without Jon needing to get involved.
For all that Jon was trying to be strong, he could see that his friends were worrying.
If only he could have accepted the statue for Stephen in absentia. With Stephen himself in Iraq, Demetri returned to the future, and so many of the other sailors busy with their own projects, it might have made him feel less alone.
Iraq....
Why hadn't Stephen called? Or emailed? Or done anything besides send cryptic postcards with no words on them?
Jon pressed his fingers to his temples. He felt a headache coming on.
"Schmon?"
The pounding in Jon's head subsided as he met his companion's eyes.
Schmon (dubbed after the only word he seemed to say) smiled hopefully and held out his arms for a hug.
"You always seem to know when I'm feeling down, don't you?" murmured Jon, as he put the statue aside and gathered the little boy into his lap.
"Schmon," agreed the kid, stretching his arms across Jon's chest.
With a sigh, Jon stroked Schmon's hair. "There's something I've forgotten," he murmured, mostly to himself. "I know it's there, I know it's important, but every time I try to think about it, it slips away...."
Schmon cuddled quietly against him, and Jon willed himself to relax. Things would work out. It looked bleak now, but teamwork, friendship, and love would win in the end. They had to. And this time next year Stephen would be back, and standing on the stage with a fresh golden statue of his own.
Jon held that image in his heart as the car sped on into the night.