comment_fic 201-205: AtS, SN, Leverage, The Last Unicorn, Blood Ties
Title: pretty as a picture
Fandom: Angel the Series
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for the end of Angel the Series
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 240
Point of view: third
Prompt: Angel/(Lindsey), sometimes he wishes he'd given him the chance to prove himself
After, he goes underground. Time to lick wounds and heal, plan a second attack.
Of course the first one failed. A dying human, two vampires, and a bound god-not much of a chance, really.
Gunn died saving Spike, and Spike died for Angel, and Illyria just kept moving, but finally, even she fell.
He's sure she's alive somewhere. An Old One, after all, has already survived death once. She's probably trying to raise an army, take back her throne in a world that has no place for her, not anymore.
It doesn't matter. He hasn't even tried to contact Buffy or the new Watchers' council. Let everyone think he's dead.
He should be dead. That's what Lindsey keeps telling him, day in and day out, smirking at him from the doorway or the corner or the mirror. Lindsey and that damnable smirk, I know something you don't, ain't that grand? Those blue eyes that always knew something he didn't, fucking lawyer.
Why is his reflection Lindsey? He doesn't have a reflection-vampire, hello? Only souled vampire in existence, though he sure didn't act like it in those last few months, all part of the plan. Lure everybody in, trick them, trap them, take down Wolfram and Hart.
And how'd that work out? Lindsey asks, strumming a guitar on the couch. Maybe I could'a turned the tide in your favor, friend. Think'a that?
That's all Angel's thought about.
Title: absolution in crimson
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic; AU
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 235
Point of view: first
Prompt: author's choice, sorry I couldn't save you
Uh, hey. Been awhile, I guess. Well, a couple decades-what's that, huh? Nothin'... for us, anyway.
Heh, sorry. This is just... I'm nervous, okay? I don't... I'm not. I mean. Uh. Fuck, I'm doin' this all wrong.
Well. I guess, what I wanted to say is thank you. I know you're not here-there was nothing to bury, after. Just for closure, anyway. So that when I was ready...
I am sorry. I let you down, let everyone down, and I get that. I really do. Should'a been better, faster, stronger. Smarter, there at the end.
Maybe I should'a said yes sooner, given everybody what they wanted. But I couldn't give up on you. I couldn't...
I really thought you'd come through at the end, some brilliant plan at the bottom of the ninth, score tied, bases loaded.
Did I use that metaphor right? Baseball was never my thing.
I know why you gave your consent. We both understand. I'm sorry I couldn't-
I actually brought you flowers. Pansy-ass shit, huh? I'll just... I'll leave them here, okay?
I'm sorry I let you down. I love you. Maybe somewhere up there, you can hear me? I hope so. I know I'll never see you again, but...
I know why you said yes. And I hope that one day, someday, you can understand why I said yes, too.
I'll go now. I'm sorry.
Title: bottom of the ninth, bases loaded
Fandom: Leverage
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 150
Point of view: third
Prompt: teamfic!, Eliot always said he'd die fighting (he never told them it would be to save the rest of them).
Parker's down, bullet to the thigh. Hardison's with her, trying to keep her still and putting pressure on the wound. She'll live, if they can get her out of here.
Sophie's the hostage, one of Reynolds' goons holding a gun to her head and demanding some shit they can't deliver, trapped here at the bottom of a barrel.
Nate's trying to reason with the bastard, but Eliot knows they passed that point a bullet ago.
There's a gun in reach. Full clip; the fucker carrying it went down with a crushed laraynx. There's a gun in reach and goons with jumpy trigger-fingers, and Parker will bleed out if she stays here.
Nine goons, each with a gun. Reynolds crying in the corner, pissing and moaning about something or other, and Eliot can kill them all.
He moves, knowing how this will play out, but his team will live.
Title: through the clouds a path is torn
Fandom: The Last Unicorn
Disclaimer: not my character; title from the movie
Warnings: future!fic
Pairings: mentions of canon het
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 140
Point of view: third
Prompt: The Last Unicorn, The Unicorn, Remembering
She wanders in her lilac wood, thinking back sometimes, when men come. None ever stay long; the wood is so still, now. So quiet. They leave and don't return, and she recalls those too-few days as a woman, as a child and as a lover, on the shore of a sea. With him.
She is not the last. There are others, in hidden places, in glens and dales, away from prying eyes and tempted hearts.
Lir is long dead, and Molly. The cat and the butterfly. Celaeno and Schmendrick, though, must live somewhere. They are magic, and magic never dies.
As is she. Immortal as the ocean, as the sky. Mountains crumble and wells dry, but she wanders in her lilac wood, forever safe from men and their improvements, and she remembers how Lir tasted and felt and sang.
Title: run run run, as fast as you can
Fandom: Blood Ties
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic
Pairings: implied het
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 155
Point of view: third
Prompt: Henry/Vicki, our future will be forever intertwined
He leaves Toronto, leaves Vicki and Mike and Coreen. He can set up shop somewhere else, somewhere less exciting, less messy. Somewhere away from Vicki and Mike and their tangled lives.
Vicki deserves someone better. Someone alive, someone warm, someone who can see her in sunlight.
Even without him, odd cases swarm to Vicki, and he hears so many stories. Some of them must be true.
Mike dies first, of course, during a routine investigation. In the line of duty, saving a civilian. Henry sends flowers.
Next, Coreen, caught up in something beyond her understanding.
And Vicki knocks on Henry's door one night, as he's sketching his latest idea, and she smells like magic, like shadows and blood, and she says, "I'm tired, Henry."
He doesn't ask what she's done, what's been done to her, what deal she's made and who holds the contract.
He says, "Come to bed, Vicki" and lays her down.