Rainbow drabbles - DCU, SN/DA, SG-1, WC, WC/SG-1, Highlander, SN
Title: robin redbreast
Fandom: Batman Under the Red Hood
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for film
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 115
Point of view: third
Prompt: Red
Jason knows he came back wrong. Something important-vital-got left in that pit, something destroyed in the explosion. He’s never been gentle, never been soft, but in his first life he knows he wasn’t so hard.
When he plans his return to Gotham and assumes the persona of Red Hood, the reason is twofold. First, to avenge himself on the Joker. Second, to let Batman know not everyone deserves to live.
And he takes the name Red Hood because Joker used to go by it. It’s a warning and a message, and the meaning should be plain.
Robin is back from the dead and he will be covered in blood before he’s done.
Title: by firelight
Fandom: Dark Angel/Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AU for Dark Angel; AU future!fic for Supernatural
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 530
Point of view: third
Prompt: Orange
Ben stares into the flames, curled up near the fire. He’s mostly warm, but his back is to the wilds and he’s slightly nervous.
“Don’t worry,” his older self says without turning, face towards the darkness. “Nothin’ will bother us tonight.”
Ben doesn’t react. He trusts his older self-mostly. Surely the Lady wouldn’t have sent him a dangerous guide. But he’s been on his own for over two years. Since the escape. And his older self is… frightening. He’s already fought off half a dozen nomlies while Ben froze. (their eyes, their eyes, color of a midnight sky, color of bone, bright, bright as sunlight) But his older self simply waded into them and ripped them apart, quick as lightning and quieter than the cat in their shared blood.
“Call me Dean,” his older self said, covered in gore. “It’ll keep things simple.”
They’ve traveled together for six days and nights now. Once, Ben woke up curled next to his older self, with Dean’s arm around his shoulder, hand over Ben’s heart. He stayed still until Dean moved away, but he thought about that moment almost constantly. He felt-safe. Warm, where Dean touched him.
He wonders how it would feel to let Dean hold him like he’s seen normal parents hold normal children.
But instead of saying anything like that, so weak and childish, he asks, “Why are we going northwest?” He knows this is the way he fled in a panic, barely remembering his training to evade recapture. He would have never come back, except his older self has steadily gone west, gone north since he saved Ben from the nomlies. (he’s young, he’s strong, he’s oursoursours, brimstone and starlight)
“You have a twin still in that place,” Dean says. His voice is sharp, the words clipped. Ben knows his hands are clenched into fists and he’s glaring at something. Nomlies in his past, maybe.
“We’re going to get him out,” Dean continues. “And then…”
Ben uncurls and goes to him, leaning into his side. Dean looks down, and his eyes soften. He loosens his fists and Ben stands still as he lifts a hand to place it on Ben’s head.
“What happens after we save him?” Ben asks.
His older self smiles. “Then I start another war,” he says. “Just as futile, but hopefully not as endless."
He shoots one more look around their camp then glances back at Ben. “C’mon, Benji,” he says. “Let’s get some sleep. Nothin’ll bother us ‘til sunup.”
Ben lets Dean steer him back to the fire. Dean waits while Ben finds another comfortable spot and drops next to him, barely touching him.
Dean seems to hesitate before saying, “It might get cold tonight.”
Ben thinks for a moment, watching his older self from the corner of his eye. He remembers his siblings, how they piled together. He slept better those nights.
So he shifts closers to Dean, and Dean wraps his arms around Ben, cheek against the crown of Ben’s head, and Ben dreams that night of he and his twin, battling nomlies, and Dean back-to-back with a man he calls Sammy, laughing so loud it fills the sky.
Title: beneath the sky of my birth
Fandom: SG-1
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for up to season 3; takes place sometime during that
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 360
Point of view: third
Prompt: Yellow
It’s been a month and a half since Daniel saw the sun he was born beneath, the sun that toughened his skin on the ancient sands of Egypt. A month and a half since he left on a mission with SG-7, since Jack said don’t get lost in some ruins, and Sam wished him luck, and Teal’c cautioned him to keep a weather eye on the sky. Daniel had grinned and waved, then followed someone else’s team through the ‘gate. A month and half since he saw SG-7, since Saul died saving his life, since Mike was pulled away yelling, since Les went down bleeding. A month and a half in a hole, only seeing and hearing anyone when his captors visit to demand information he doesn’t have and wouldn’t give if he did.
Whoever they are, they know he was Hathor’s beloved and they think he has gou’ald secrets in his brain. And they think Earth is the key to defeating the goa’uld. For some reason, they believe broken bones, ripped skin, and soul-deep bruises will have him spilling everything he’s buried away.
A month and a half, and he hasn’t said a word since that first day. He’s screamed and wept, whimpered and groaned, but he hasn’t told them a thing. When he has the strength, he’s proud of that.
He’s buried everything about Earth, about stargates, about the various allies probably looking for him, if he knows Jack. He’s hidden in his mind anything that could compromise his friends and his home.
He remembers his name. He clings to it. And he thinks about the sun, high in Egypt’s sky, and he feels it baking him in comfortable heat.
And when the Tollans come for him, when they bring him to the Nox, when they send a message home, and he sees Jack for the first time in a month and a half, he whispers I want to feel the sun before sleeping for a week.
Jack and Sam and Teal’c take him outside on the mountain and he sits on the grass and he lets the sun warm him.
And he knows he’s home, he’s safe, he’s free.
Title: one day, summer ends
Fandom: White Collar
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: takes place during season 1
Pairings: implied pre-Peter/Neal
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 175
Point of view: third
Prompt: Green
Sometimes, for a few moments, Peter is jealous of Neal. Neal seems to be what everyone wishes they were, fun and free and beautiful and brilliant. And Neal is all of those things, except free. He belongs to the FBI for the next four years. More specifically, he belongs to Peter.
And, Peter knows, he belongs to Neal almost as much as he belongs to El.
For a long time, Neal did what he wanted when he wanted. He could hop a plane and go anywhere. He listened to no one, followed no law. And now he has to or he’s headed straight back to prison.
Of course, Peter also knows that Neal could slip his leash and run away at any moment. That he hasn’t shocks Peter less each day.
As jealous as Peter is sometimes, it’s for the mask Neal wears, not the actual Neal. Neal convinced himself for the longest time that he didn’t care. Peter knows better.
And Neal is far more jealous of Peter than Peter has ever been of Neal.
Title: when the North Star breaks through
Fandom: SG-1/White Collar
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AU for both shows; I’ve yet to see the later seasons of SG-1, but I’ve read fic
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 950
Point of view: third
Prompt: Blue
Claire Ballard had a cousin named Marcy. Besides her father, Marcy was her only family in the world.
Marcy was a small-time grifter and her partner was a fighter who didn’t go down when the mob told him to.
And while Claire set up an exhibition in New York, Marcy’s partner was beat to death to send a message.
Marcy, five months pregnant, ran.
Claire and her husband died days later and their son entered the same system his cousin would flee in fifteen years time. And it would be almost two decades after that when they would meet, Claire and Marcy’s boys. Both survivors, both geniuses, and both able to find trouble anywhere.
o0o
In the middle of an undercover op with his FBI keeper, Neal Caffrey picks up an artifact awaiting auction. A light flashes and Neal falls, unconscious before he hits the floor. Peter gets him immediate attention, reports in, paces around the hospital, and almost punches the Air Force officer who arrives to take Neal away. Captain Harrison’s superior, Colonel Mitchell, takes over, but Peter still refuses to budge, and no one’s making any progress in diagnosing Neal, much less fixing him. And he’s getting worse.
Colonel Mitchell’s superior, General O’Neill, arrives and tells Peter to come with him and Neal to the one place that might help. Peter looks at Neal, still and small in the bed, and agrees.
o0o
Dr. Daniel Jackson greets Peter in the infirmary of an underground base. O’Neill calls him the ancient expert, which means nothing to Peter.
“Can you help Neal?” Peter demands, part of him glad they confiscated his gun. He may have very well drawn it to wave around, if he still had it.
“We examined the device, Agent Burke,” Jackson says soothingly, his eyes as blue as Neal’s. Peter hadn’t believed that possible. “I think we can recreate what happened in reverse. That should wake him up without damage.”
Without damage, shit. Peter hadn’t thought that, of what might be different. Brain injuries are so dangerous, and nothing is physically wrong with Neal. He just won’t wake up. In fact, he’s slipping deeper, further away.
Peter takes a slow, deep breath. Jackson smiles at him and walks over to O’Neill. They talk in soft voices; Peter ignores them to focus on Neal, looking so young on the bed.
Finally, Jackson goes to the artifact, in a plastic bag on a tray. He reaches into the bag, grabs the artifact, and says something in a language Peter doesn’t recognize.
Whatever it is, it works. Neal gasps and sits up, gagging. Peter sighs in relief but keeps his distance while Dr. Fraiser, CMO of the base, attends to Neal.
As Neal catches his breath, Peter notices from the corner of his eye that Jackson is staring down at the bed, mouth open in shock.
O’Neill notices too, because he says, “Danny?”
Jackson shakes his head, mutters, “It’s nothing.” He smiles once more at Peter and walks out of the infirmary.
Neal is panicking on the bed and Peter slips in to bark, “Neal!” Neal freezes till he focuses on Peter and then he asks, “What’s going on?”
“Let them help you,” Peter says. “We’ll get the explanation when you’re better.”
Neal looks him hard in the eyes but acquiesces.
o0o
Neal is back to a hundred percent within the hour. O’Neill slips out for a little while but comes back to lead Neal and Peter to a briefing room. Jackson and a blonde woman O’Neill introduces as Colonel Carter, PhD, are the only other people in attendance.
First they are given non-disclosure agreements, then Peter sits in disbelief and Neal grows steadily more excited as O’Neill-with many interjections by Carter and Jackson-explains about the Ancients and the various technology they left behind, only affected by people with a special Ancient gene.
“A gene you have in abundance, Caffrey,” O’Neill finishes. “We’ve only come across a few people as strong or stronger than you.”
Neal is bouncing in his seat, grinning. Peter shakes his head. He doesn’t want to believe it, but a bright light knocked Neal down and out for hours with no physical cause or symptoms.
O’Neill watches Neal with the gentle amusement of a parent at a playground. Carter looks as excited as Neal, but Jackson has something like painful hope on his face.
“Mr. Caffrey,” Jackson begins. “What do you… can you tell me about your parents?”
Neal’s face closes off just as quick as when someone at work makes a jab about his life before or prison. “Why do you ask?” he replies, icily polite.
Peter interrupts. “You’ve checked his record?”
Carter says, “Yes, when we first realized he’d activated an artifact."
“There’s nothing before he was fifteen,” O’Neill adds. “We’re curious.”
But Neal’s staring at Jackson, and he says quietly, “My mother was Marcy Ballard.”
Aside from Havisham, Peter may be the only person in the world to understand how hard it was for Neal to say that.
Jackson smiles and tells him, “My mother was Claire Ballard.”
Peter realizes instantly why Jackson’s eyes are just as blue as Neal’s. And glancing from one to the other, they have the same hopeful expression, the last-ditch dream of an orphan that maybe this family will, at last, for keeps, be the one.
Peter shoots a glare at O’Neill, who nods. “Carter, Burke,” he says. “Let’s go grab some supper.”
Carter stands and hurries from the room. Peter follows, meeting O’Neill at the door. “Guess we’ll be seeing more of each other, then,” the general says jovially.
“Guess so,” Peter replies calmly.
He hopes this family is everything Neal has dreamed.
Title: To you, I’d give the world
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for Methos
Pairings: pre-Methos/Duncan
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 140
Point of view: third
Prompt: Indigo
One of the few pleasures left to a man five thousand years old-and probably older, there’s so much he can’t remember-is to watch sunrise or sunset, whichever he’s awake for. Each dawn and dusk in his memory is unique. No two have ever been the same. After watching people repeat themselves for millennia, sunrises feel cleansing. He is bathed by light, feels it all the way to his tired bones and aching soul. It doesn’t kindle a fire in him, but it keeps him going long enough to meet the child called Duncan MacLeod. And Duncan-
He is bright enough to strike a spark in the oldest man alive and Methos stops merely surviving. For the first time in centuries, he wakes excited to be alive.
Maybe in a few years, he’ll show the child responsible how to appreciate a sunrise.
Title: Tempt not the Lord thy God he said and stood
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AU; spoilers for season 5
Pairings: Sam/Jessica, implied Dean/Sam
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 250
Point of view: third
Prompt: Violet
The night after she meets Sam Winchester, Jessica tucks herself in beneath a quilt her grandmother made as a graduation gift. The design is a painting Jessica gave her and Pawpaw for their fiftieth anniversary, based on a sketch Nana drew after their first date.
Her dreams that night are weird. The only one she’ll remember upon waking is when Sam, the tall guy in her art history class, deep voice and dimples, crowns himself with a circlet of ivory and settles onto a dark throne. Swirling around him is deep purple cloak, blood staining the hem.
Jessica will never understand that dream. She is a good girl who grows into a wonderful woman; she dies as a pawn in a game she didn’t know she was playing and goes straight to Heaven. She doesn’t know when Sam releases Lucifer or agrees to let Lucifer into him. Jessica is reliving her fifth date with Sam, the most fun she’s ever had, when Sam kills Lucifer and forces all of Hell to kneel before him.
He’s wearing an ivory circlet and a purple cloak, and he settles onto the darkest throne, and Heaven’s street trembles because Dean Winchester has yet to do anything but refuse Michael.
And while Jessica is attending her cousin’s commitment ceremony, Dean steps up next to his brother’s throne, wearing a black circlet and holding a blood-stained razor, and grin twists his lips that sends a shudder down the spine of every demon in Hell.