And gravity has taken better men than me / Oh how can that be
These days most of my writing energy (and what little time I have to write) goes into my original projects. Tonight though I was picking through my old fic files, and found an unposted piece that I'd totally forgotten about. I'd originally started it for a drabble challenge. It wound being too long for a drabble, but not substantive enough for a ficlet either. That being said, I think I'll post it anyway (a few years after the fact) just for fun. :)
Title: Grief
Fandom: The Lone Gunmen/The X-Files
Summary: Post-Jump the Shark Jimmy/Yves, albeit in a sad, dark, drunken way...
There was a bar six blocks from Arlington, with peanut shells on the floor and a jukebox that only ever seemed to play the blues.
Whiskey and lager blurred the edges of the world, made it bearable. She’d had the first drink for him, the second for them, and all the rest for herself. That hadn’t really been part of the plan, but here she was.
Then again, nothing had gone much according to plan lately.
“Yves?”
Jimmy reached across the table and grabbed her fingers. He was still pale, his eyes red-rimmed, the lids swollen.
“What is it, Jimmy?” she asked shortly, but didn’t move her hand.
“I think maybe we should talk- you know, about what comes next…?”
Next? Of course, he would assume. But all she said was, “We’re not in much shape to be thinking about the future, let alone talking about it.”
“I just- I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“Walk away,” she said before she could stop herself. “Walk away, live your life. Send flowers once a year. But, otherwise? Never look back.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Oh, I very much do.”
“No.” He stood up and walked around the table, leaning down and taking her chin in one hand, grabbing her wrist tightly with the other. He wasn’t usually this physical with her. “Tell me you don’t mean that.”
“Jimmy-“
And then somehow they were in the men’s room, the metal door of one of the stalls pressed up against her back.
This was a terrible idea. Even drunk as they both were, she knew that much.
Title: Grief
Fandom: The Lone Gunmen/The X-Files
Summary: Post-Jump the Shark Jimmy/Yves, albeit in a sad, dark, drunken way...
There was a bar six blocks from Arlington, with peanut shells on the floor and a jukebox that only ever seemed to play the blues.
Whiskey and lager blurred the edges of the world, made it bearable. She’d had the first drink for him, the second for them, and all the rest for herself. That hadn’t really been part of the plan, but here she was.
Then again, nothing had gone much according to plan lately.
“Yves?”
Jimmy reached across the table and grabbed her fingers. He was still pale, his eyes red-rimmed, the lids swollen.
“What is it, Jimmy?” she asked shortly, but didn’t move her hand.
“I think maybe we should talk- you know, about what comes next…?”
Next? Of course, he would assume. But all she said was, “We’re not in much shape to be thinking about the future, let alone talking about it.”
“I just- I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“Walk away,” she said before she could stop herself. “Walk away, live your life. Send flowers once a year. But, otherwise? Never look back.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Oh, I very much do.”
“No.” He stood up and walked around the table, leaning down and taking her chin in one hand, grabbing her wrist tightly with the other. He wasn’t usually this physical with her. “Tell me you don’t mean that.”
“Jimmy-“
And then somehow they were in the men’s room, the metal door of one of the stalls pressed up against her back.
This was a terrible idea. Even drunk as they both were, she knew that much.