comment_fic 646-650: HL/Thor, HL, SG1/NCIS, Chuck
Title: a taste of lightning
Fandom: Thor movieverse/Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: takes place post-movie and post-series; implied failure on the part of parents in raising of offspring (seriously, consider the canon); primordial!Methos; possibly confusing use of pronouns
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 500
Point of view: third
Prompt: Author's choice, any, he's born a liar and he'll die a liar.
Note: I chose the names for a reason, but I trusted internet sources since I have no knowledge of Old Norse at all.
"Get up, child," he tells the boy lying spread on the ground.
The boy groans, then gasps. "I live," he murmurs, voice full of wonder.
"Yes," he says, leaning down to offer a hand. "It took a lot out of you, surviving that fall." He waits, unmoving, until the boy takes his hand, and then he carefully pulls the kid up. "But survive you did."
The power will return in time, that much he knows. The kid isn't one of his; he's something else. Not older, though. Nothing is older.
Odin's stench is on him, nonetheless. That meddling fool.
"Have you a name?" he asks the boy, steadying him on his feet. The kid's trembling, blinking far too much, and his eyes staying closed for longer each time.
"Of course," he slurs, slumping down. "Haven't you?"
He laughs. He has a thousand names, ten thousand, a million and more. He presses a finger to the boy's temple, and another to his chest, right over his heart.
Lightning strikes, and catches, and the boy jolts in his grip, eyes flying open.
"Lesson the first, child," he says softly. "Survive."
He sees the magic flowing through Odin's son, Laufey's son. Raised in shadow, cast aside for his bright brother - oh, yes. The potential here is staggering.
Odin has always been blind, misguided, with tendencies towards favoritism.
"And lesson the second?" the boy asks, staring at him warily.
He smiles. "Grow stronger." He lets a moment pass in silence, as stormclouds gather on the horizon. "Call me Ash," he says.
"My name is worthless," the child finally says, gazing at the dirt.
"Would you like a new one?" He gently lets go, stepping back. The boy sways in place for a heartbeat before finding his bearings again.
The child's hands clench and his jaw tightens. "Will you take me home like a starving stray?" he demands, his returned magic giving him courage, and his pain turning into fury. He needs to lash out. "Will you use me until you grow tired, and then cast me aside, toss me off the bridge and watch me fall?"
"I'll take you home, yes," he says, standing still. "I'll guide you and guard you until you're ready, and then - well. There'll be many options, then. And I'll name you Van, if you like."
The boy pauses, clearly without a clue of what to do next. He's tired. His spirit is aching. He needs to rest, and heal.
"Ash," he murmurs. "I like Van."
"Van you are," Ash says, reaching out again. The kid doesn't pull away.
So Ash pulls him in, supports him, and leads him home.
Odin, you utter fool, he thinks, weaving the shield even tighter, so the All-Seeing cannot See. You never did understand self-fulfilling prophecies.
Ah, well. He hasn't had a student since Byron; the Highlander never qualified. And Van may not be one of his by birth, but his lightning now sings in the boy's blood and that is more than enough.
Title: without hope of end
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton
Warnings: none
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 170
Point of view: third
Prompt: Highlander, Methos/ Duncan or Joe, Being friends with Methos is like a carnival: fun when it's not terrifying and all the games are rigged.
Sometimes, just chatting with the Old Man, Joe actually forgets who - what - he really is. He's not that shy kid anymore, more like a kid brother. Wicked sense of humor, sly eyes, more than happy to be the butt of a joke -
And then something happens. For a split second. Those eyes sharpen, or his voice has a hint of thunder, and there's something about his bearing, something coiling, preparing to attack -
And then it's gone. And he's just Adam, just a guy, with an unpaid tab and a smart mouth.
Joe never reacts to those glimpses. He tries to ignore them, to forget them. Because if he thinks about it... there's a reason Adam is the oldest, and a reason why Mac will never reach that same age.
So Joe chats with the Old Man, and ribs him like he's just a kid brother, and ignores the apex predator mocking Mac's taste in beer, the shudder working its way up his spine, and those sharp eyes.
Title: It's That Time
Fandom: SG-1/NCIS
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: takes place anytime in either series
Pairings: Tony DiNozzo/Daniel Jackson
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 115
Point of view: third
Prompt: Stargate SG-1, any, When (s)he started dating a member of the SGC (s)he had no idea how crazy his/her significant other's surrogate family was.
"I think it's time to meet the family," Tony announces on their six-month anniversary.
Daniel chokes on his Duck a l'Orange. "I'm sorry?" he gasps out before draining his glass of water.
Tony smiles apologetically. "I promised Gibbs he could vet all my girlfriends after... well, yeah. And I know - and fully appreciate - that you're not a girl, but the point is still the same." He bats his eyelashes. "Pretty please?"
If he meets Tony's family, then it's only fair Tony meet his. After sipping his wine, he nods decisively. "I'll meet Gibbs," he agrees, "if you meet Jack."
Tony's grin is so brilliant Daniel can't even wait till after the meal.
Title: perhaps I am secret
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my character; title from Milton
Warnings: none
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 135
Point of view: first
Prompt: Author's choice, any, I am the fabric of history, you are a fictional stain. (quote taken from Epic Rap Battles of History)
Live long enough, little boy, and you'll learn a terrifying truth: nothing is a lie.
Ach, don't look at me like that. You asked. I answered.
Nothing is a lie, there is no truth, the sun will rise and stars explode, I rode a horse in your Bible, I commanded an army in your history book, I forged and wielded a sword in your museum, I sat on a throne in a country you've never heard of, and -
Well.
Name a path; I've walked it. Name a language; I spoke it. Name a way to die; I've experienced it.
Name a land and I ruled it.
I am old, child. You don't know the meaning of the word. History is my story.
Maybe that's a lie. Not like you'll live long enough to know for sure.
Title: practice losing farther, losing faster
Fandom: Chuck
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Elizabeth Bishop
Warnings: heartbreak; AUish
Pairings: Chuck/Bryce
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 155
Point of view: third
Prompt: Chuck, Chuck/Bryce, The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
He realizes, as time passes and passes (and, oh look, time passed some more) that he and Bryce weren't meant for more than they had.
(And if he tells himself that, louder and louder, more and more, to make it hurt less, well. It's all in his head anyway. No one else is listening. No one else cares.)
Bryce wasn't the first thing he lost, or the last to come back. Nowhere near the worst, as more time passes.
But in the middle of the night (or the middle of the day, whenever he's sleeping), he circles back to Bryce, brilliant and bright, the best thing he ever had.
He knows that in hindsight. Stupid hindsight.
Bryce Larkin. Not an accountant. Probably not even from Connecticut. A geek, and beautiful, and so perfectly alive…
They wouldn't have lasted. Not as friends, not as lovers.
(No matter how often he says it, it still tastes like a lie.)