Fic: Refuge (Moonlight; Josef, Lola)
I'm having terrible trouble finding Mick's voice, so I wrote Josef and Lola instead.
Edit: Hah! So Josef really was in New York at one time. I swear I only found that out after I'd written this.
Josef, Lola. February 1945. PG.
In America, he might as well be invisible.
Refuge
He should not have been on the bridge, thrusting his sunglasses into his coat pocket and squinting against the dawn over Manhattan, his arms crossed over his chest. The gulls circled him suspiciously.
From the top of the stone pylon, he watched the flurry of construction cranes and boats going purposefully along the river as the city transformed itself, grappling its way energetically up from the bedrock with branches of iron. When he reached a hand down, the web of his fingers hovered frail and unacknowledged above the gleaming steel cables. He felt dwarfed by its monstrous weight.
Pressure was building, roiling in his blood, and it was going to get worse. What goes up must come down. He imagined the bridge collapsing beneath him, water engulfing the ruined edifice as both he and it sank. That would be a good one for the newspapers.
He didn't notice Lola climbing up until she spoke.
"Josef, what are you doing?" Her sleeves and hem were devastatingly fashionable, and Josef saw her wince as the shadow passed over and sunlight struck her cool bare skin. "Come down, you fool," she hissed, anger suppressing the fear in her voice. "Come down now."
"Aren't you meant to be on your way by now? Places to be, people to eat?" he asked, wondering how he was going to get rid of her. "I'm comfortable where I am, thanks."
She threw her hands up. "I heard about Dresden, the bombs, all right? And the fires... Josef, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's never easy when things change. We can't do anything about that."
But he could have stayed.
Stayed like others did, instead of running away, abandoning his home, the streets and neighbourhoods where he grew up, died, walked the night again with new companions and new friends; where he was more than just a name, a cheque book, a quaint accent. In America, he might as well be invisible.
"Why don't we go to Los Angeles together, Josef? Start over." Lola caught his arm, steadying him as he swayed weakly, sheltering him with her body from the worst of the morning light. "You could be anyone. If you like, we could take over the city, even." Her offer lay like an empty page in front of him.
A place with no past. City of dreams.
He would see.
The End
5 November 2007
Edit: Hah! So Josef really was in New York at one time. I swear I only found that out after I'd written this.
Josef, Lola. February 1945. PG.
In America, he might as well be invisible.
Refuge
He should not have been on the bridge, thrusting his sunglasses into his coat pocket and squinting against the dawn over Manhattan, his arms crossed over his chest. The gulls circled him suspiciously.
From the top of the stone pylon, he watched the flurry of construction cranes and boats going purposefully along the river as the city transformed itself, grappling its way energetically up from the bedrock with branches of iron. When he reached a hand down, the web of his fingers hovered frail and unacknowledged above the gleaming steel cables. He felt dwarfed by its monstrous weight.
Pressure was building, roiling in his blood, and it was going to get worse. What goes up must come down. He imagined the bridge collapsing beneath him, water engulfing the ruined edifice as both he and it sank. That would be a good one for the newspapers.
He didn't notice Lola climbing up until she spoke.
"Josef, what are you doing?" Her sleeves and hem were devastatingly fashionable, and Josef saw her wince as the shadow passed over and sunlight struck her cool bare skin. "Come down, you fool," she hissed, anger suppressing the fear in her voice. "Come down now."
"Aren't you meant to be on your way by now? Places to be, people to eat?" he asked, wondering how he was going to get rid of her. "I'm comfortable where I am, thanks."
She threw her hands up. "I heard about Dresden, the bombs, all right? And the fires... Josef, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's never easy when things change. We can't do anything about that."
But he could have stayed.
Stayed like others did, instead of running away, abandoning his home, the streets and neighbourhoods where he grew up, died, walked the night again with new companions and new friends; where he was more than just a name, a cheque book, a quaint accent. In America, he might as well be invisible.
"Why don't we go to Los Angeles together, Josef? Start over." Lola caught his arm, steadying him as he swayed weakly, sheltering him with her body from the worst of the morning light. "You could be anyone. If you like, we could take over the city, even." Her offer lay like an empty page in front of him.
A place with no past. City of dreams.
He would see.
The End
5 November 2007