A little post season 2 reflection
Entered in the last round of wh13_lfws. However, that contest seems to have disappeared.
Pairings: Oh so subtly hinted at Artie/MacPherson
Spoilers: Through end of Season 2
Rating: PG to be safe
By Zombiechick
Artie stood at the door; his hand loosely holding the brass knob, and silently chastised himself for being there at all. "Ridiculous," he spat quietly.
But, then he closed his eyes, pain flashing briefly across his face, before he opened the door. He only realized that he had been holding his breath when his chest began to burn. Artie puffed out his cheeks, and exhaled in exasperation, while crossing the threshold into the home that he and James had shared.
Looking around the room, Artie was overcome by the strange mixture of nostalgia and estrangement that accompanied returning to one's past. He crossed over to the desk that James had preferred to work at, and picked up a small, silk scarf from the back of the chair. Letting the material run slowly through his fingers, he gave a sad little smile and murmured, "Budapest."
Artie brought the scarf to his nose and inhaled, allowing himself a few more moments of introspective idleness, before he cleared his throat loudly and tossed the garment to the desktop. "You said you wanted to talk about it, Myka," he whispered into the stillness that surrounded him, "so, let's talk."
Artie looked around the room one last time, and impatiently shrugged off a phantom hand that seemed to caress his shoulder. "Enough, James," he hissed and left the apartment; the door shutting forcefully behind him.
________
Irene Frederic made a point of reorganizing, and cataloging, her files annually. However, there was one file that she could not bring herself to remove from the "Active" drawer of her cabinet. The tab simply read "Gus", the last name having been obliterated with a black pen. It was obvious, from the discoloration of the cardboard and the dust along the edges of the papers within, that the file hadn't truly been active for decades.
Mrs. Frederic cleared her throat self-consciously, only because she was alone in her office, and let the file slip from her hands. Its fold hit the bottom of the metal filing drawer with a small "ping" as she turned to her desk. Picking up a file, that was obviously new, she held it gently in her hands. The letter on the tab was a string of Korean characters rather than English lettering. She flinched as a brief image of the car crash that had taken him invaded her mind’s eye. She smiled sadly and decided, against logic, to leave this folder in the “Active” drawer as well.
She picked up the only other item that was out of place on her large, and meticulous, desk; the tab at the top read, “Beringer, Myka.” Officially, Agent Beringer was now “inactive”; Myka had turned in a letter of resignation. Mrs. Frederic’s nostrils flared with anger and her mouth twisted grimly before a look of resolve settled on her normally stoic face.
She only allowed her eyes to linger on Myka’s file for half a second before giving a mighty shove that slammed the drawer home. She grabbed her Farnsworth off the desk and opened it with a vicious flick. Artie’s startled face quickly came into view, “Agent Bering’s beacon is about to be activated, Arthur; find her.”
Artie gave a curt nod of his head, “Understood.”
Mrs. Frederic closed the device with a snap, and tossed it to the desktop. She took off her glasses, and they joined the Farnsworth; she sat down heavily in her desk chair and gave in to the exhaustion that no one else knew she was capable of feeling.
________
Artie had finished packing his bag, and was quietly leaving the Warehouse office. He wasn't exactly sneaking away, but he wasn't telling Pete and Claudia that he was going in search of Myka either. This was something that he felt he needed to do on his own. He could hear them talking, sitting on the couch in his office.
"How is it your fault?" he heard Claudia ask.
"You'll understand someday; when you have a partner," Pete assured her. "But, I should have known she was breaking down. I could have helped her," he sighed, "if she would have let me."
Artie stopped in his tracks when he heard a muffled sob. "Dude, dude," Claudia said softly and Artie could imagine that Claudia was hugging Pete to her, patting him on the back and maybe rocking a bit on the couch.
Artie heard Pete sniff mightily, “I’ll, uh,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll be okay; we just need to find her. I’ve lost enough people in my life already, Claudia. Could you give me a minute?”
Claudia answered in the affirmative and then her footsteps padded across Artie’s office toward the stairs.
Artie was reaching for the handle on the door leading out of the Warehouse, when he sensed, rather than heard, Claudia step up behind him, “Artie,” she said softly.
He turned around and looked at Claudia, noting the unshed tears that wavered in her eyes. He smiled softly, “Claudia.”
She reached out and placed her hand over the top of his, “You have to bring her home, Artie.”
He smiled sadly, “I’m going to try,” he assured her.
“We,” Claudia’s voice choked slightly, and she swiped away an arrant tear with an angry push of her fist across her cheek, “I need her,” she amended.
“We all do, Kiddo,” he assured her while squeezing her hand in his. “Don’t worry; this isn’t the end.”
“Is that a promise?” Claudia asked shakily.
Artie flinched at the reference to their earlier relationship; the word ‘promise’ held such weight with her, “It is.”
Claudia nodded and let him go.
THE END
Pairings: Oh so subtly hinted at Artie/MacPherson
Spoilers: Through end of Season 2
Rating: PG to be safe
By Zombiechick
Artie stood at the door; his hand loosely holding the brass knob, and silently chastised himself for being there at all. "Ridiculous," he spat quietly.
But, then he closed his eyes, pain flashing briefly across his face, before he opened the door. He only realized that he had been holding his breath when his chest began to burn. Artie puffed out his cheeks, and exhaled in exasperation, while crossing the threshold into the home that he and James had shared.
Looking around the room, Artie was overcome by the strange mixture of nostalgia and estrangement that accompanied returning to one's past. He crossed over to the desk that James had preferred to work at, and picked up a small, silk scarf from the back of the chair. Letting the material run slowly through his fingers, he gave a sad little smile and murmured, "Budapest."
Artie brought the scarf to his nose and inhaled, allowing himself a few more moments of introspective idleness, before he cleared his throat loudly and tossed the garment to the desktop. "You said you wanted to talk about it, Myka," he whispered into the stillness that surrounded him, "so, let's talk."
Artie looked around the room one last time, and impatiently shrugged off a phantom hand that seemed to caress his shoulder. "Enough, James," he hissed and left the apartment; the door shutting forcefully behind him.
________
Irene Frederic made a point of reorganizing, and cataloging, her files annually. However, there was one file that she could not bring herself to remove from the "Active" drawer of her cabinet. The tab simply read "Gus", the last name having been obliterated with a black pen. It was obvious, from the discoloration of the cardboard and the dust along the edges of the papers within, that the file hadn't truly been active for decades.
Mrs. Frederic cleared her throat self-consciously, only because she was alone in her office, and let the file slip from her hands. Its fold hit the bottom of the metal filing drawer with a small "ping" as she turned to her desk. Picking up a file, that was obviously new, she held it gently in her hands. The letter on the tab was a string of Korean characters rather than English lettering. She flinched as a brief image of the car crash that had taken him invaded her mind’s eye. She smiled sadly and decided, against logic, to leave this folder in the “Active” drawer as well.
She picked up the only other item that was out of place on her large, and meticulous, desk; the tab at the top read, “Beringer, Myka.” Officially, Agent Beringer was now “inactive”; Myka had turned in a letter of resignation. Mrs. Frederic’s nostrils flared with anger and her mouth twisted grimly before a look of resolve settled on her normally stoic face.
She only allowed her eyes to linger on Myka’s file for half a second before giving a mighty shove that slammed the drawer home. She grabbed her Farnsworth off the desk and opened it with a vicious flick. Artie’s startled face quickly came into view, “Agent Bering’s beacon is about to be activated, Arthur; find her.”
Artie gave a curt nod of his head, “Understood.”
Mrs. Frederic closed the device with a snap, and tossed it to the desktop. She took off her glasses, and they joined the Farnsworth; she sat down heavily in her desk chair and gave in to the exhaustion that no one else knew she was capable of feeling.
________
Artie had finished packing his bag, and was quietly leaving the Warehouse office. He wasn't exactly sneaking away, but he wasn't telling Pete and Claudia that he was going in search of Myka either. This was something that he felt he needed to do on his own. He could hear them talking, sitting on the couch in his office.
"How is it your fault?" he heard Claudia ask.
"You'll understand someday; when you have a partner," Pete assured her. "But, I should have known she was breaking down. I could have helped her," he sighed, "if she would have let me."
Artie stopped in his tracks when he heard a muffled sob. "Dude, dude," Claudia said softly and Artie could imagine that Claudia was hugging Pete to her, patting him on the back and maybe rocking a bit on the couch.
Artie heard Pete sniff mightily, “I’ll, uh,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll be okay; we just need to find her. I’ve lost enough people in my life already, Claudia. Could you give me a minute?”
Claudia answered in the affirmative and then her footsteps padded across Artie’s office toward the stairs.
Artie was reaching for the handle on the door leading out of the Warehouse, when he sensed, rather than heard, Claudia step up behind him, “Artie,” she said softly.
He turned around and looked at Claudia, noting the unshed tears that wavered in her eyes. He smiled softly, “Claudia.”
She reached out and placed her hand over the top of his, “You have to bring her home, Artie.”
He smiled sadly, “I’m going to try,” he assured her.
“We,” Claudia’s voice choked slightly, and she swiped away an arrant tear with an angry push of her fist across her cheek, “I need her,” she amended.
“We all do, Kiddo,” he assured her while squeezing her hand in his. “Don’t worry; this isn’t the end.”
“Is that a promise?” Claudia asked shakily.
Artie flinched at the reference to their earlier relationship; the word ‘promise’ held such weight with her, “It is.”
Claudia nodded and let him go.
THE END