SCC Fic: tell me how this ends
Title: tell me how this ends
Author: aelysian
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1413
Summary: It's your typical story. Boy meets girl, boy gets girl, boy loses girl, girl's identity gets stolen by a cyborg. Request fic for twistdmentality who wanted Derek/Allison fic (and also the fluff.) It took a (long, long) while, but I got it done...right?
Follow up fic here: Denouement
tell me how this ends
One
It starts like one of those girly movies his mom used to watch on Sunday afternoons.
She catches his eye in the mess hall and his gaze follows her across the dingy room. There isn’t really anything remarkable about her; long brown hair that’s better for camouflage than the blondes or redheads Sayles seemed to go for. Pale, but who isn’t? Brown eyes. It’s the description of at least half the people in the base but he keeps watching.
Pretty. Sayles likes the showy, flirty girls and Kyle likes...well, Kyle’s a moron, but Derek likes the pretty ones. The ones that’re soft and remind you of baseball in the park when they smile.
He realizes he’s been staring too long when her eyes meet his and narrow.
“What’re you looking at?” she asks loudly enough to turn a few heads in his direction.
He doesn’t look away because there’s a challenge there and he’s going to win even if she doesn’t know she’s playing yet. Kyle’s on his right, taking his attention off his synthetics long enough to tell him to stop being an ass.
“I'm lookin' at you.”
She rolls her eyes and looks away after a moment because girls are still girls even when makeup is non-existent and you can’t tell their clothing from their male counterparts. He smiles a little and starts in on his dinner just to shut his little brother up.
***
He catches up with her in the tunnels, the long, unconfined hair a dead giveaway as she weaves through the busy hub. It’s usually the mark of one of the tunnel rats (because even a post-apocalyptic world with a decimated human population has scavengers) except hers is clean and brushed and looks like his fingers could slide through it without resistance.
“Hey.”
She turns around fast enough that he knows that she knew she was being followed. Interesting. “Do you usually stare at people and then follow them around?”
“What’s your name?”
She made a face. “Why should I - ”
“Young! Young!” A wiry kid in tech uniform comes running up, ruining her reply. “You’re wanted in scrubbing.”
With a nod, she turns away from him, moving in the direction of the reprogramming bay.
“You got a first name, Young?” he calls out to her back. She stops and looks back, giving him one of those annoyingly indecipherable female looks. (Someone else will have it later and he'll reach for his gun every time.)
“Allison,” she says finally. “You got a name?”
“Reese,” is all he gets out before a wave of people exiting the mess carry her down the tunnel in a tide of moving bodies.
Two
They're not inseparable because everything can be divided in the future; food, water, clothes, people. It doesn't really matter because they don't have a choice and he doesn't want to admit that when time, assignments, survival divides them he misses her more than she misses him.
She loves him, he knows she does, doesn't doubt or question it and it's so comfortable he thinks that this is how it's supposed to be. But she's young, even by post J-Day standards, her memories from Before limited to vague, dreamy recollections of recess, playgrounds and a mother she talks about in the softest voice. She doesn't quite remember what an afternoon outdoors under the sun feels like, the cool tartness of summer lemonade or the filling warmth of soup and crackers in late autumn. She doesn't know the easy feeling that comes from riding at the back of the bus or full speed on a bike down a hill, the ground rushing up to catch and meet you.
She doesn't remember those things because she never knew them, not Before and not the way he finds them again when he's with her. And maybe that's why he's always missing her more.
He doesn't care because he sure as hell isn't going to tell anyone that (though sometimes when she smiles and kisses him goodbye - for now - he thinks she knows) and she seems pretty happy anyway and he knows he's the reason why.
She asks for stories, insatiable, and when she's stretched out next to him, flinging half her body on top of his to claim more room, it's hard to say no. He tries to remember what he can, clumsily retellings that end up cobbling together fairy tales, action flicks and Saturday morning cartoons. They're terrible but she's entertained and it's not his fault if her hair is soft enough and distracting enough sliding through his fingers that he can't remember (or figure out) how they end. He kisses her quiet before she can ask for another.
Not bad, Reese, he thinks, satisfied with the hurried meals, lingering nights and whatever down time they can grab. It's more than many can lay claim to - and a damn sight more than his kid brother's stupid love affair with that damned polaroid - and it's good. It's real good.
It's good up until the morning she pulls away, taking half of the coarse sheets with her as she half-slides, half-tumbles out of bed, giggling as she stumbles and fumbles with her uniform. She's late for her shift but he reaches for her anyway, hands grasping, holding, curving around wrists and hips to keep her a little longer.
Her hair falls like a curtain when she bends to kiss him goodbye; she laughs and tells him to shave.
She says be careful and rolls her eyes when he echoes her; it's I love you in two words that he carries around like a talisman, a mantra at the back of his crazy, stupid head because he's found a home now and doesn't need the one from Before anymore.
He smiles when she leaves, a flurry, but it doesn't last because that morning was the last one and he was too careless, too human to know it. One bad mission and one cyborg hunting party is all it takes.
He never sees her again.
Shit happens.
Three
Guy meets girl, guy gets girl, guy loses girl. It hurts when no one's looking and the fact that they could be summed up like some hollywood cliché doesn't really help because this story doesn't have intrigue and drama, no betrayal, no bitter accusations. There's just separation. No reconciliation, no happy ending because girl is gone and that's how his story ends.
Except it doesn't.
She's not supposed to come back wrong. Wrong is all he can think as he draws his weapon, unsure of how he knows it's not her. All he knows is that it's not, she's not, and there's the sound of a piano under the blood rushing in his ears.
There isn't any hope in his heart when it races; just fear and horror and afterwards, when Perry lets him go, breathing doesn't come easy and his chest hurts with the effort. Allison, Allison, they took Allison, stole Allison. (Killed Allison and he somehow wishes that's all they'd done.) Allison's gone and he's lost her because he was stupid enough to let go.
And now there's this.
This, that walks around and stands too close and lives in Connor's quarters. This, that he's supposed to work with and wait for and obey. This, that smiles and talks and moves, except everything belongs to someone else and no one seems to remember that anymore. (Sometimes he thinks that Kyle would, but he's gone too and after a while, he carries them both.)
It doesn't really get any better, but it does get easier. Hate is easier and it feels good so he wraps himself in it because it's so much stronger than he is now.
He goes downtime and when he opens his eyes it's Before. He finds his younger self and he thinks about warning him but he doesn't. He finds Connor and his nephew's dumb and young and he thinks about telling him but he isn't ready to hear. (And Allison is trapped somewhere in his head or heart or throat.)
He goes to the park instead. He sits on a bench with the grass under his feet and sunshine on his skin, the world moving bright and warm around him and somewhere between two years ago and twenty years from now…
Derek closes his eyes to the burning.
Tell me how this ends.
For the (kind of) follow up story: Denouement
Author: aelysian
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1413
Summary: It's your typical story. Boy meets girl, boy gets girl, boy loses girl, girl's identity gets stolen by a cyborg. Request fic for twistdmentality who wanted Derek/Allison fic (and also the fluff.) It took a (long, long) while, but I got it done...right?
Follow up fic here: Denouement
tell me how this ends
One
It starts like one of those girly movies his mom used to watch on Sunday afternoons.
She catches his eye in the mess hall and his gaze follows her across the dingy room. There isn’t really anything remarkable about her; long brown hair that’s better for camouflage than the blondes or redheads Sayles seemed to go for. Pale, but who isn’t? Brown eyes. It’s the description of at least half the people in the base but he keeps watching.
Pretty. Sayles likes the showy, flirty girls and Kyle likes...well, Kyle’s a moron, but Derek likes the pretty ones. The ones that’re soft and remind you of baseball in the park when they smile.
He realizes he’s been staring too long when her eyes meet his and narrow.
“What’re you looking at?” she asks loudly enough to turn a few heads in his direction.
He doesn’t look away because there’s a challenge there and he’s going to win even if she doesn’t know she’s playing yet. Kyle’s on his right, taking his attention off his synthetics long enough to tell him to stop being an ass.
“I'm lookin' at you.”
She rolls her eyes and looks away after a moment because girls are still girls even when makeup is non-existent and you can’t tell their clothing from their male counterparts. He smiles a little and starts in on his dinner just to shut his little brother up.
***
He catches up with her in the tunnels, the long, unconfined hair a dead giveaway as she weaves through the busy hub. It’s usually the mark of one of the tunnel rats (because even a post-apocalyptic world with a decimated human population has scavengers) except hers is clean and brushed and looks like his fingers could slide through it without resistance.
“Hey.”
She turns around fast enough that he knows that she knew she was being followed. Interesting. “Do you usually stare at people and then follow them around?”
“What’s your name?”
She made a face. “Why should I - ”
“Young! Young!” A wiry kid in tech uniform comes running up, ruining her reply. “You’re wanted in scrubbing.”
With a nod, she turns away from him, moving in the direction of the reprogramming bay.
“You got a first name, Young?” he calls out to her back. She stops and looks back, giving him one of those annoyingly indecipherable female looks. (Someone else will have it later and he'll reach for his gun every time.)
“Allison,” she says finally. “You got a name?”
“Reese,” is all he gets out before a wave of people exiting the mess carry her down the tunnel in a tide of moving bodies.
Two
They're not inseparable because everything can be divided in the future; food, water, clothes, people. It doesn't really matter because they don't have a choice and he doesn't want to admit that when time, assignments, survival divides them he misses her more than she misses him.
She loves him, he knows she does, doesn't doubt or question it and it's so comfortable he thinks that this is how it's supposed to be. But she's young, even by post J-Day standards, her memories from Before limited to vague, dreamy recollections of recess, playgrounds and a mother she talks about in the softest voice. She doesn't quite remember what an afternoon outdoors under the sun feels like, the cool tartness of summer lemonade or the filling warmth of soup and crackers in late autumn. She doesn't know the easy feeling that comes from riding at the back of the bus or full speed on a bike down a hill, the ground rushing up to catch and meet you.
She doesn't remember those things because she never knew them, not Before and not the way he finds them again when he's with her. And maybe that's why he's always missing her more.
He doesn't care because he sure as hell isn't going to tell anyone that (though sometimes when she smiles and kisses him goodbye - for now - he thinks she knows) and she seems pretty happy anyway and he knows he's the reason why.
She asks for stories, insatiable, and when she's stretched out next to him, flinging half her body on top of his to claim more room, it's hard to say no. He tries to remember what he can, clumsily retellings that end up cobbling together fairy tales, action flicks and Saturday morning cartoons. They're terrible but she's entertained and it's not his fault if her hair is soft enough and distracting enough sliding through his fingers that he can't remember (or figure out) how they end. He kisses her quiet before she can ask for another.
Not bad, Reese, he thinks, satisfied with the hurried meals, lingering nights and whatever down time they can grab. It's more than many can lay claim to - and a damn sight more than his kid brother's stupid love affair with that damned polaroid - and it's good. It's real good.
It's good up until the morning she pulls away, taking half of the coarse sheets with her as she half-slides, half-tumbles out of bed, giggling as she stumbles and fumbles with her uniform. She's late for her shift but he reaches for her anyway, hands grasping, holding, curving around wrists and hips to keep her a little longer.
Her hair falls like a curtain when she bends to kiss him goodbye; she laughs and tells him to shave.
She says be careful and rolls her eyes when he echoes her; it's I love you in two words that he carries around like a talisman, a mantra at the back of his crazy, stupid head because he's found a home now and doesn't need the one from Before anymore.
He smiles when she leaves, a flurry, but it doesn't last because that morning was the last one and he was too careless, too human to know it. One bad mission and one cyborg hunting party is all it takes.
He never sees her again.
Shit happens.
Three
Guy meets girl, guy gets girl, guy loses girl. It hurts when no one's looking and the fact that they could be summed up like some hollywood cliché doesn't really help because this story doesn't have intrigue and drama, no betrayal, no bitter accusations. There's just separation. No reconciliation, no happy ending because girl is gone and that's how his story ends.
Except it doesn't.
She's not supposed to come back wrong. Wrong is all he can think as he draws his weapon, unsure of how he knows it's not her. All he knows is that it's not, she's not, and there's the sound of a piano under the blood rushing in his ears.
There isn't any hope in his heart when it races; just fear and horror and afterwards, when Perry lets him go, breathing doesn't come easy and his chest hurts with the effort. Allison, Allison, they took Allison, stole Allison. (Killed Allison and he somehow wishes that's all they'd done.) Allison's gone and he's lost her because he was stupid enough to let go.
And now there's this.
This, that walks around and stands too close and lives in Connor's quarters. This, that he's supposed to work with and wait for and obey. This, that smiles and talks and moves, except everything belongs to someone else and no one seems to remember that anymore. (Sometimes he thinks that Kyle would, but he's gone too and after a while, he carries them both.)
It doesn't really get any better, but it does get easier. Hate is easier and it feels good so he wraps himself in it because it's so much stronger than he is now.
He goes downtime and when he opens his eyes it's Before. He finds his younger self and he thinks about warning him but he doesn't. He finds Connor and his nephew's dumb and young and he thinks about telling him but he isn't ready to hear. (And Allison is trapped somewhere in his head or heart or throat.)
He goes to the park instead. He sits on a bench with the grass under his feet and sunshine on his skin, the world moving bright and warm around him and somewhere between two years ago and twenty years from now…
Derek closes his eyes to the burning.
Tell me how this ends.
For the (kind of) follow up story: Denouement