PtL FIC :: "Letters" [Alex/Derek] PG13
Since the reveal has happened over at yuletide's site, I'm gonna post this to my lj. So glad I can finally do it...
Title: Letters
Author: A. Magiluna Stormwriter
Feedback address: stormwriter@shatterstorm.net
Date Written: 13-18 December 2006
Word Count: 1443
Characters: Alex, Derek
Rating: PG13 [language]
Summary: One year after the fateful destruction of the castle on Angel Island, Alex reflects on the things she learned about herself and Derek.
Warnings: If you haven't seen the end of the series, you should be warned of character death.
Spoilers: thru the end of the series
Archive: This is a ShatterStorm Productions exclusive piece. Contact the webmistress for archive options.
Link to: http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/
Website: ShatterStorm Productions’ Doggie Duo’s Fanfic
Disclaimer: This story is an original work of amateur fiction, and is written purely for the private entertainment of P:TL fans. This story is no way affiliated with Trilogy, MGM Worldwide Television or the Sci-Fi Channel. The characters are their property, and this story is not meant to infringe upon the copyrights of MGM, Trilogy, or anybody else who owns an interest in "Poltergeist: the Legacy".
Author's Notes: This was written for jenab for Yuletide 2006 . I was thrilled to be able to write for PtL again, even tho' it wasn't femslash that I normally adore. But this one gave me pause to consider the series, how it ended, and what could happen from that point. The bulk of this was written prior to the Great Power Outage of 2006, and I was sorely worried that I wouldn't have power to post on time. Thankfully, power was restored and all was well.
Beta: shatterpath, as usual...
Dedication: To jenab, for letting me writing something relatively canon in this fandom again. And to my muses, for not backing out on me again...
"Letters"
by A. Magiluna Stormwriter
Dear Derek --
I never understood this need of mine to write letters to dead people. Perhaps it's some sort of coping mechanism I have. I've been doing it since I was a child. Gramma Rose said I had books and books of letters to my parents after they died. Then there were the letters to favorite childhood pets, the spirits I saw as a child, anyone I might know that had passed away. It was like my way of dealing with their deaths, with the losses of their very essences on this earth.
After Gramma Rose died, I found two old trunks filled with all of my letters and journals. It was somewhat daunting to reread all of those words. And yet, I still packaged them up, trunks and all, and sent them on to Angel Island, to my home, to have with me. They served as a potent reminder of where I came from, how I've changed or not changed, as the case may be.
When I moved from home, headed off to college and beyond to be a functioning adult in the real world, I continued to write letters in journals. This time, they were to my grandmother. Some were mailed to her, some were not. The ones that were mailed were also among the letters and journals in the trunks at Gramma Rose's house. My house. In a sense, after her death, I still had all of my letters.
Until that fateful day a year ago when you chose to martyr yourself for the good of mankind. Do you have any idea how much of a pompous ass you were that day, Derek? How could you do that? How could you let me know of your feelings, let me harbor that hope of something between us, and then turn around and kill yourself to right your father's wrongs?
I was devastated, Derek. Do you realize that? Devastated. I loved you; you're the only man I'll ever truly love. Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to watch that castle blow up, knowing you were inside playing the martyr? Did you even consider the consequences of that when you came up with your little plan to save the world? Of course not, because you're Derek Rayne who can do no wrong. Bullshit!
You know, Nick's been asking me to come back to San Francisco, back to the Legacy. I fled to the house in New Orleans as soon as I was able to gather my wits about me and leave. I didn't bother to try to save anything out of the castle. I just couldn't stand to be there while they excavated and picked through the rubble of what had been my home for so many years. Rachel wanted me to stay and speak with someone about the loss we were all suffering. I love Rachel, but I couldn't stomach her psychobabble for a moment longer at that point. I needed to be as far away as I could get from that damned portal and the rubble holding it in.
So I ran home to New Orleans. Which feels only marginally like home. Gramma Rose isn't here anymore. Tanya's off doing whatever it is she's doing, most likely hiding from me still over the hell that caused Gramma Rose's death. And yet, I can't leave here. I have nowhere else to go. I have nowhere left to truly call home. So what do I do now, Derek?
You know, I really should give you a great deal of credit for finding the things that are most important to me, the things that you knew I wouldn't want to lose, and sending them off to safety at the house in New Orleans. Including the trunks of letters. You had to have been planning what you did for quite some time in order to get all of those things pulled aside and packaged off. Nick said he and Rachel had packages waiting for them at Rachel's house. I've heard Phillip had a box or two, as well, some of the more precious and rare of the books from the library. Tell me, Derek, did you intend to destroy so much history, so much antiquity, in your pursuit of justice?
Did I mention Nick wants me to come back to San Francisco? He's been working on rebuilding the house. They've only just now, a year later, deemed the island safe enough to rebuild. He's been working out of Rachel's house for the most part. She hasn't been exactly thrilled that he's gone so overboard in his intent to rebuild and continue your legacy, but she's dealing with it. She says that Kat's growing stronger in her abilities, but without your or my influence on her. Rachel fears that Kat may well do something she shouldn't. I don't know that I completely believe her, because you and I both know that Rachel can over exaggerate on occasion. But I also know that Kat is more than susceptible to the lure of her powers for the sake of having friends.
And I suppose you don't even understand why I'm having such issues with returning to San Francisco, do you? If there's one thing I've always known about you, it's that your interpersonal skills can tend to be on the failing side when you're faced with real, honest emotions. You always wanted to use your skills, your abilities, and your knowledge to get people to understand you. In some ways, it's what I found so attractive about you all those years ago. You're an incredibly charismatic man for being so uncomfortable around emotions.
I don't know if I can go back to that island, to the ruins of what I've considered my home for so many years, not with your specter still lurking about that portal. I know you're there, Derek. Not in any way that I can explain to suit Rachel, but I know you're there, watching over the portal and the island, watching over all of us. Will your spirit come to visit me if I do go back to live there? Will you haunt me there in reality as you've haunted me in my dreams on so many occasions in the past year?
The memory of your kiss has both sustained and tormented me in the aftermath of your death. In the immediate weeks following, I would find myself touching my lips far more often than usual. The softness of your lips was a memory I couldn't get rid of. I felt your touch as if you were still here with me. I'd dream that you would come to me, tell me you'd faked your death, and tell me that you loved me, needed me. In those dreams, you always take me in your arms, whisper sweet words of endearment in my ear, and kiss me with all the tender passion I've always wanted from you. More times than not, we make love in those dreams, and you hold me close until I fall into peaceful sleep again. Only I always wake up alone and feeling worse than before I'd gone to bed.
I love you, Derek. I need you in my life. And as much as I understand what you did, and why, I still think you're a damned selfish, arrogant bastard for doing it. You didn't need to tell me how you felt for me. You could have just died and left me in the dark. It may not have appeased your soul, but it would have saved me a lifetime of heartache. And now I'm left with the memory of what might have been. For that, I may well hate you for the rest of my life.
And now, it's time to close out this letter and get started with my day. I need to pack for a research trip. I've been asked to go to the Cairo House to look at some hieroglyphs on a sarcophagus that may have a link to the whereabouts of Senephra's murderer. So you see, Derek, I do still some work with the Legacy, I just can't seem to get comfortable with going back to San Francisco just yet. Perhaps I'll see about getting a transfer to a different House. There have been a few queries of interest, but I've mostly ignored them up 'til now. Perhaps I'll have to give them some thought.
And perhaps I just need to get over myself and go home.
Either way, I need to get ready for my trip.
Rest in peace, Derek, wherever you are.
I love you, now and always,
Alex
Title: Letters
Author: A. Magiluna Stormwriter
Feedback address: stormwriter@shatterstorm.net
Date Written: 13-18 December 2006
Word Count: 1443
Characters: Alex, Derek
Rating: PG13 [language]
Summary: One year after the fateful destruction of the castle on Angel Island, Alex reflects on the things she learned about herself and Derek.
Warnings: If you haven't seen the end of the series, you should be warned of character death.
Spoilers: thru the end of the series
Archive: This is a ShatterStorm Productions exclusive piece. Contact the webmistress for archive options.
Link to: http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/
Website: ShatterStorm Productions’ Doggie Duo’s Fanfic
Disclaimer: This story is an original work of amateur fiction, and is written purely for the private entertainment of P:TL fans. This story is no way affiliated with Trilogy, MGM Worldwide Television or the Sci-Fi Channel. The characters are their property, and this story is not meant to infringe upon the copyrights of MGM, Trilogy, or anybody else who owns an interest in "Poltergeist: the Legacy".
Author's Notes: This was written for jenab for Yuletide 2006 . I was thrilled to be able to write for PtL again, even tho' it wasn't femslash that I normally adore. But this one gave me pause to consider the series, how it ended, and what could happen from that point. The bulk of this was written prior to the Great Power Outage of 2006, and I was sorely worried that I wouldn't have power to post on time. Thankfully, power was restored and all was well.
Beta: shatterpath, as usual...
Dedication: To jenab, for letting me writing something relatively canon in this fandom again. And to my muses, for not backing out on me again...
"Letters"
by A. Magiluna Stormwriter
Dear Derek --
I never understood this need of mine to write letters to dead people. Perhaps it's some sort of coping mechanism I have. I've been doing it since I was a child. Gramma Rose said I had books and books of letters to my parents after they died. Then there were the letters to favorite childhood pets, the spirits I saw as a child, anyone I might know that had passed away. It was like my way of dealing with their deaths, with the losses of their very essences on this earth.
After Gramma Rose died, I found two old trunks filled with all of my letters and journals. It was somewhat daunting to reread all of those words. And yet, I still packaged them up, trunks and all, and sent them on to Angel Island, to my home, to have with me. They served as a potent reminder of where I came from, how I've changed or not changed, as the case may be.
When I moved from home, headed off to college and beyond to be a functioning adult in the real world, I continued to write letters in journals. This time, they were to my grandmother. Some were mailed to her, some were not. The ones that were mailed were also among the letters and journals in the trunks at Gramma Rose's house. My house. In a sense, after her death, I still had all of my letters.
Until that fateful day a year ago when you chose to martyr yourself for the good of mankind. Do you have any idea how much of a pompous ass you were that day, Derek? How could you do that? How could you let me know of your feelings, let me harbor that hope of something between us, and then turn around and kill yourself to right your father's wrongs?
I was devastated, Derek. Do you realize that? Devastated. I loved you; you're the only man I'll ever truly love. Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to watch that castle blow up, knowing you were inside playing the martyr? Did you even consider the consequences of that when you came up with your little plan to save the world? Of course not, because you're Derek Rayne who can do no wrong. Bullshit!
You know, Nick's been asking me to come back to San Francisco, back to the Legacy. I fled to the house in New Orleans as soon as I was able to gather my wits about me and leave. I didn't bother to try to save anything out of the castle. I just couldn't stand to be there while they excavated and picked through the rubble of what had been my home for so many years. Rachel wanted me to stay and speak with someone about the loss we were all suffering. I love Rachel, but I couldn't stomach her psychobabble for a moment longer at that point. I needed to be as far away as I could get from that damned portal and the rubble holding it in.
So I ran home to New Orleans. Which feels only marginally like home. Gramma Rose isn't here anymore. Tanya's off doing whatever it is she's doing, most likely hiding from me still over the hell that caused Gramma Rose's death. And yet, I can't leave here. I have nowhere else to go. I have nowhere left to truly call home. So what do I do now, Derek?
You know, I really should give you a great deal of credit for finding the things that are most important to me, the things that you knew I wouldn't want to lose, and sending them off to safety at the house in New Orleans. Including the trunks of letters. You had to have been planning what you did for quite some time in order to get all of those things pulled aside and packaged off. Nick said he and Rachel had packages waiting for them at Rachel's house. I've heard Phillip had a box or two, as well, some of the more precious and rare of the books from the library. Tell me, Derek, did you intend to destroy so much history, so much antiquity, in your pursuit of justice?
Did I mention Nick wants me to come back to San Francisco? He's been working on rebuilding the house. They've only just now, a year later, deemed the island safe enough to rebuild. He's been working out of Rachel's house for the most part. She hasn't been exactly thrilled that he's gone so overboard in his intent to rebuild and continue your legacy, but she's dealing with it. She says that Kat's growing stronger in her abilities, but without your or my influence on her. Rachel fears that Kat may well do something she shouldn't. I don't know that I completely believe her, because you and I both know that Rachel can over exaggerate on occasion. But I also know that Kat is more than susceptible to the lure of her powers for the sake of having friends.
And I suppose you don't even understand why I'm having such issues with returning to San Francisco, do you? If there's one thing I've always known about you, it's that your interpersonal skills can tend to be on the failing side when you're faced with real, honest emotions. You always wanted to use your skills, your abilities, and your knowledge to get people to understand you. In some ways, it's what I found so attractive about you all those years ago. You're an incredibly charismatic man for being so uncomfortable around emotions.
I don't know if I can go back to that island, to the ruins of what I've considered my home for so many years, not with your specter still lurking about that portal. I know you're there, Derek. Not in any way that I can explain to suit Rachel, but I know you're there, watching over the portal and the island, watching over all of us. Will your spirit come to visit me if I do go back to live there? Will you haunt me there in reality as you've haunted me in my dreams on so many occasions in the past year?
The memory of your kiss has both sustained and tormented me in the aftermath of your death. In the immediate weeks following, I would find myself touching my lips far more often than usual. The softness of your lips was a memory I couldn't get rid of. I felt your touch as if you were still here with me. I'd dream that you would come to me, tell me you'd faked your death, and tell me that you loved me, needed me. In those dreams, you always take me in your arms, whisper sweet words of endearment in my ear, and kiss me with all the tender passion I've always wanted from you. More times than not, we make love in those dreams, and you hold me close until I fall into peaceful sleep again. Only I always wake up alone and feeling worse than before I'd gone to bed.
I love you, Derek. I need you in my life. And as much as I understand what you did, and why, I still think you're a damned selfish, arrogant bastard for doing it. You didn't need to tell me how you felt for me. You could have just died and left me in the dark. It may not have appeased your soul, but it would have saved me a lifetime of heartache. And now I'm left with the memory of what might have been. For that, I may well hate you for the rest of my life.
And now, it's time to close out this letter and get started with my day. I need to pack for a research trip. I've been asked to go to the Cairo House to look at some hieroglyphs on a sarcophagus that may have a link to the whereabouts of Senephra's murderer. So you see, Derek, I do still some work with the Legacy, I just can't seem to get comfortable with going back to San Francisco just yet. Perhaps I'll see about getting a transfer to a different House. There have been a few queries of interest, but I've mostly ignored them up 'til now. Perhaps I'll have to give them some thought.
And perhaps I just need to get over myself and go home.
Either way, I need to get ready for my trip.
Rest in peace, Derek, wherever you are.
I love you, now and always,
Alex