comment_fic 641-645: HL, Charmed, SN, Leverage, X-Men
Title: the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters; the painting mentioned is The Horse Fair by Rosa Bonheur; title from Helen Keller
Warnings: future!fic
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 425
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, a whiter shade of pale
Note: I have seen The Horse Fair in person. It is amazing. I want it for my own wall.
Methos has skill as a painter. Of course he does. He has eternity to master anything, so he has mastered everything. But the truly crafty always keep something back.
Adam Pierson was not an artist. A doodler, certainly, but nothing impressive. And Ben Matheson is nothing to write home about, either, but he's loved the arts all his life. So when his sponsor Duncan MacLeod calls him early one morning to invite him to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, well. He could refuse, of course. But a good little boy wouldn't, and Ben is so very young, and desirous of an adult's praise and approval.
"Ben!" MacLeod calls. "Come see this one."
"And who had the clever idea to take the children to the museum today?" Ben murmurs to Mr. Dawson, hurrying to MacLeod's side with an exuberant smile.
Mr. Dawson's guffaw follows him, to a huge painting of horses. "Gorgeous," Ben breathes. MacLeod claps him on the shoulder, and Ben would say something more, but his eyes are following the lines of the horses. He wouldn't be surprised if they thundered right off the wall.
Ben has never ridden a horse. He's been poor all his life, and lived on the streets for three months, and was caught by the police, turned over to CPS, and fostered by a couple determined to see him excel. And then he was chosen by MacLeod, and sent to one of the best schools in the country, and here he is, staring at the most wonderful thing he's ever seen, in utter awe.
Ben can only marvel at the horses. They look so strong. He wonders what it'd be like to ride them, and if he had an audience beyond Mr. Dawson, he'd ask MacLeod, and hang onto every word.
Methos, though. Methos knows. He misses riding across a plain, his brothers abreast of him, out of the sun and into the horizon, the world theirs for the taking. Ben will go back to his dorm and dream of horses. He'll check out horse books from the library, watch videos online, and fall head-over-heels in love.
But Methos. Methos will go to the place where home is tonight, pull out a well-hidden sketchbook, and breathe life into his favorite pale mare again.
"Isn't it something?" MacLeod asks.
Ben nods enthusiastically. He's never seen a more amazing sight in his short, pain-filled life.
Methos… Methos is a master of horses. In his next life, he'll return to them and ride out of the sun, into the horizon.
Title: all I ever wanted (and more)
Fandom: Charmed
Disclaimer: the kids are mine
Warnings: changed future!fic
Pairings: Chris/Bianca
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 160
Pointofview: third
Prompt: Charmed, Chris, kids of his own make him appreciate his mother's patience.
When Pippa and Matty's game of orb-and-seek ends up on the Golden Gate Bridge, Chris hangs onto his temper with clenched fingers and tersely orders them to their rooms. They're too young to understand that he's more terrified than angry, and he finally gets exactly why Mom used to have furtive talks with the aunts about binding all of the next generation's powers.
"Breathe, babe," Bianca says, leaning into him. "You found them. They're not hurt. They won't do it again for at least a day."
"A day," Chris laughs, almost hysterically. "Shit."
Bianca smiles, pressing a quick kiss to his nose. "C'mon, Chris. Your turn to feed the munchkin. I'll go explain to the terrible two why Daddy freaked out all over them."
Chris nods, heading to the kitchen, where Lynn is banging her spoon on her highchair. She grins up at Chris and shimmers the spoon away.
"Mom, I owe you a massive apology," he mutters, orbing the spoon back.
Title: look down, look down, sweet Jesus doesn't care
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Les Miserables
Warnings: depressing; mentions of character death; spoilers for the beginning of season 7
Pairings: implied Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 205
Point of view: third
Prompt: Supernatural, Dean/Cas, he put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger / and finally drank away [his] memory / life is short, but this time it was bigger / than the strength he had to get up off his knees
Everything Dean loves vanishes like smoke, eaten up by the monsters hounding him from that burning November night.
Everyone Dean loves leaves, willingly or not. A few come back, only to leave again.
Castiel has died and come back almost as many times as Dean, now. He doesn't think Cas has it in him to do it another time.
Drinking does nothing to dull the pain, or regret, or fury. But it's all Dean can do.
It'll be bitterly ironic if that's the thing to get Dean at last, after all the other damned things he's survived. Or resurrected from. But there are no more angels perched on his shoulder. No more angels at all.
He'd offer to make a deal, if he thought any demons were dealing.
He's so tired. The drinking does help him sleep.
So he drinks. And drinks. Hunts. Drinks some more.
He finally has Sammy back, and Castiel is gone. He can't ever seem to really have both at the same time. He'd choose Sam, if ever given the choice. Of course he'd choose Sam.
But he didn't make the choice. And he drinks. And hunts. And wonders which will kill him first, and if it'll at last be the lasting time.
Title: a hacker, a hitter, and a thief
Fandom: Leverage
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AU; mentions of child abuse, character death, violence, and torture
Pairings: implied Eliot/Parker/Hardison
Rating: PG
Wordcount:
Point of view: third
Prompt: Leverage; Parker, Eliot, and Hardison (or threesome!); they're the villains of this story.
Alec used to just hack because he could, to prove to himself that he was better than his father. The one time Nana caught him, she lightly swatted his behind and said, "Don't get caught again."
0o0
Parker stole a bunny once. Her foster father of the week smacked her across the face and snarled, "Be a better thief, little bitch."
Parker took the bunny with her when she left. Her foster parents were both tucked up neatly in their bed, throats slit, when the house exploded.
0o0
Eliot breaks faces. And femurs. He uses guns and knives interchangeably, and he answers to no man. He's killed in thirty-eight countries, his bodycount is in triple digits, and no one even knows his name.
Damien Moreau thought he hired a bodyguard. Eliot grew bored after a month. There wasn't much left when he finally moved on.
0o0
Alec is a world-renowned hacker. Parker is considered one of the best thieves. And Eliot? He's the nightmare young hitters get warned about, the one few ever believe.
The thing is, Nate knew all that. So did Sophie.
But knowing and believing? Completely different things.
0o0
A hacker, a hitter, and a thief.
They knew of each other, of course. The best and the brightest. Most dangerous.
"How long?" Parker asks, cuddled up against Alec while Eliot held them both.
Eliot shrugs. "I ain't bored yet," he says.
Alec kisses his chin, then Parker's cheek, and mutters, "Take us with you when you go."
Eliot thinks about that for a long time. All the way until Sophie's ambition threatens the two he's claimed as his own.
When Sophie's down, and Eliot's bodycount enters quadruple digits, he smiles at Alec and Parker. "C'mon," he says.
0o0
A hacker, a hitter, and a thief. Answer to no one but each other.
Legends. Nobody actually believes in legends.
More fool they.
Title: fire and ice
Fandom: X-Men
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AU for X2
Pairings: implied Pyro/Iceman
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 65
Point of view: third
Prompt: X-Men, Pyro/Iceman, both are with Magneto
John doesn't say the words. Bobby hears them anyway.
Come with me. Fire and ice, like that poem. I know you remember. Come with me.
Rogue grabs for Bobby's hand, but his fingers slip right through her glove as he steps forward.
Bobby doesn't say the words. John hears them anyway.
Of course. Can't have one without the other.
They step into the snow, side-by-side and smiling.