Fic: Wasted
Feb. 11th, 2009 09:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanTitle: Wasted
Fandom/original: Original
Rating: G
A/N: A 15 minute one. Prompt from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rougen.
He wondered, sometimes. What it had all been for. They had fought tooth and nail, for what, in the end?
His son was safe. Physically, at least. But he looked... old. Worn, in a way that a young man should not look. After all Michalai had been through, it was hardly surprising. Nicolas was sure there was even more he didn't know, not that Michalai would tell him. When he looked at his son, he tried to see what had grown from that mischievous, bright eyed boy who had begged him for bedtime stories. It seemed more and more futile. He wasn't even sure he could see a man who wasn't a stranger, at times.
His daughter looked worn too, but in a different way. Lean and gaunt, like a refugee. Katiya was giving everything she had for her mother, but he could see the fear that had taken root in her eyes. The fear that it would not be enough. He remembered a day, not so long ago. He and Amy had taken the four year old girl out on a picnic. Even then, she'd loved to run, even before her walking had been entirely steady. They'd watched her explore every inch of the park, and they'd been happy. Surely, once they had been... And now Katiya looked more wolfish than ever, a thin, starving creature. Someone who might never fully trust again.
He couldn't even look at Amy. He still hadn't forgiven her, but that didn't mean he wished this horror on her. To lose so many characters; to still be at the mercy of one of them. She so carefully hid behind scarves and turtlenecks - so carefully hid behind a tired half smile. He knew it was killing her. He wished he could find the energy to care more.
He wished he could care less, about Meg's fate. There was nothing he could do for her, now. Whether she was dead again or not... she was gone, for now. Out of his reach. He half wondered if they should leave her alone. They'd certainly brought her anything but peace, last time they went after her. He could remember, how she'd looked at him, when he... But still, his bed felt half empty. Cold. She'd made so much heat... and now there was just her absence, an aching wound he didn't know how to mend. Perhaps it would never. He looked at Arthur Sloane, sometimes, and thought that they could almost understand one another. Or they would never understand. Not that it mattered now.
He'd understood Stella, once. He remembered a time when he and his twin had understood each other like no one else could dream of. Beyond finishing one another's sentences, beyond moving in perfect sync. Even when they'd disagreed, they'd felt like two components of a whole. It had been fading, with time, but... but now she turned haunted eyes on him, looking at him from a place he'd never been and couldn't guess at. Or she would simply shriek in pain, hiding her face from him altogether. She was alone and he couldn't reach her. A stranger.
Nicolas wasn't even sure, anymore, what they'd all been trying to accomplish. Much less whether or not they'd won.
Fandom/original: Original
Rating: G
A/N: A 15 minute one. Prompt from
rougen.He wondered, sometimes. What it had all been for. They had fought tooth and nail, for what, in the end?
His son was safe. Physically, at least. But he looked... old. Worn, in a way that a young man should not look. After all Michalai had been through, it was hardly surprising. Nicolas was sure there was even more he didn't know, not that Michalai would tell him. When he looked at his son, he tried to see what had grown from that mischievous, bright eyed boy who had begged him for bedtime stories. It seemed more and more futile. He wasn't even sure he could see a man who wasn't a stranger, at times.
His daughter looked worn too, but in a different way. Lean and gaunt, like a refugee. Katiya was giving everything she had for her mother, but he could see the fear that had taken root in her eyes. The fear that it would not be enough. He remembered a day, not so long ago. He and Amy had taken the four year old girl out on a picnic. Even then, she'd loved to run, even before her walking had been entirely steady. They'd watched her explore every inch of the park, and they'd been happy. Surely, once they had been... And now Katiya looked more wolfish than ever, a thin, starving creature. Someone who might never fully trust again.
He couldn't even look at Amy. He still hadn't forgiven her, but that didn't mean he wished this horror on her. To lose so many characters; to still be at the mercy of one of them. She so carefully hid behind scarves and turtlenecks - so carefully hid behind a tired half smile. He knew it was killing her. He wished he could find the energy to care more.
He wished he could care less, about Meg's fate. There was nothing he could do for her, now. Whether she was dead again or not... she was gone, for now. Out of his reach. He half wondered if they should leave her alone. They'd certainly brought her anything but peace, last time they went after her. He could remember, how she'd looked at him, when he... But still, his bed felt half empty. Cold. She'd made so much heat... and now there was just her absence, an aching wound he didn't know how to mend. Perhaps it would never. He looked at Arthur Sloane, sometimes, and thought that they could almost understand one another. Or they would never understand. Not that it mattered now.
He'd understood Stella, once. He remembered a time when he and his twin had understood each other like no one else could dream of. Beyond finishing one another's sentences, beyond moving in perfect sync. Even when they'd disagreed, they'd felt like two components of a whole. It had been fading, with time, but... but now she turned haunted eyes on him, looking at him from a place he'd never been and couldn't guess at. Or she would simply shriek in pain, hiding her face from him altogether. She was alone and he couldn't reach her. A stranger.
Nicolas wasn't even sure, anymore, what they'd all been trying to accomplish. Much less whether or not they'd won.
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no subject
Date: 2009-02-12 08:09 pm (UTC)