Halloween drabbles, part deux
A/N: So here's the second half of the Halloween drabbles -- and only over a week late! I reeeeally don't know where any of these came from, to be honest; the first one's set in an alt version of the alt!verse, the second in the regular ole S6 and the last is some weird post-The Incident universe. But regardless, hope you enjoy ciaimpala, missy_useless and ozmissage! ;D
--
Shannon's not really sure how she got guilted into volunteering at the gross mental hospital her stepmother donates to when she wants good PR, ends up wasting every fourth Saturday there, wearing a pink apron-thing that's not her colour and keeping far away from the patients.
Still, there's one who grabs her attention -- young, blonde hair that could use serious conditioning -- and she'd be pretty cute if the ratty bathrobe didn't ruin it. And she's so sad (Aaron, she sighs) that Shannon starts sitting with her, reading her kids' books and soon it's sneaking between scratchy white sheets.
Shannon swears she tastes like sand and salt, like gasoline.
--
Both of David's parents disappears in late September, after the concert.
He shows up at Daniel's door the next day in tears, emergency bus money clutched in one hand; I can't find them anywhere. Charlotte fixes David lunch while Dan calls the police.
By the end of October there's still no word, David's living in his condo; Charlotte figures Halloween candy might cheer him up.
"I don't --" He loses the words. "My mom used to take me." (There's a photograph in his room; Juliet in scrubs and cat ears).
Instead they spend the night playing piano -- Chopin's nocture in C minor, the keys sticky with chocolate.
--
There aren't any answers, even on an island with killer smoke and neither of them, Miles realizes, have a damn clue.
The others are gone by then -- the sonic fence breaks quick, they've only got one bungalow left barricaded; thank god for Linus' homemade arsenal -- and the supplies is going the same way.
"They look like --" Miles fumbles the words and Richard catches on the end of his gaze, desperation mirrored. "Like fucking monsters. Something out of Aliens or some shit."
A last bottle of kerosene's on the kitchen table between them, shadowed by the lantern's low light; Richard's hand clenches his as it sputters.
They wait.
--
Shannon's not really sure how she got guilted into volunteering at the gross mental hospital her stepmother donates to when she wants good PR, ends up wasting every fourth Saturday there, wearing a pink apron-thing that's not her colour and keeping far away from the patients.
Still, there's one who grabs her attention -- young, blonde hair that could use serious conditioning -- and she'd be pretty cute if the ratty bathrobe didn't ruin it. And she's so sad (Aaron, she sighs) that Shannon starts sitting with her, reading her kids' books and soon it's sneaking between scratchy white sheets.
Shannon swears she tastes like sand and salt, like gasoline.
--
Both of David's parents disappears in late September, after the concert.
He shows up at Daniel's door the next day in tears, emergency bus money clutched in one hand; I can't find them anywhere. Charlotte fixes David lunch while Dan calls the police.
By the end of October there's still no word, David's living in his condo; Charlotte figures Halloween candy might cheer him up.
"I don't --" He loses the words. "My mom used to take me." (There's a photograph in his room; Juliet in scrubs and cat ears).
Instead they spend the night playing piano -- Chopin's nocture in C minor, the keys sticky with chocolate.
--
There aren't any answers, even on an island with killer smoke and neither of them, Miles realizes, have a damn clue.
The others are gone by then -- the sonic fence breaks quick, they've only got one bungalow left barricaded; thank god for Linus' homemade arsenal -- and the supplies is going the same way.
"They look like --" Miles fumbles the words and Richard catches on the end of his gaze, desperation mirrored. "Like fucking monsters. Something out of Aliens or some shit."
A last bottle of kerosene's on the kitchen table between them, shadowed by the lantern's low light; Richard's hand clenches his as it sputters.
They wait.