Ficlet: The Constant
Mar. 13th, 2009 12:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanTitle: The Constant
Fandom/original: Original.
Rating: G
A/N:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rougen's original prompt was "SUCK." Which led to a surprisingly meditative little piece. Ah well. A 15 minute fic.
He hated seeing her like this. Her cheeks were hollowed, her color pallid. She looked like such a child. Eighteen, and even that had come far too fast. She had to cope with situations he hadn't been ready for at nearly double her age. Situations he still wasn't ready for, if he was honest with himself. And frankly, these days, he was too tired to be anything else. She faltered, attempting to speak. The light was dim, the shadows muted, and everything around them was quiet.
Without a word, he gathered her into his arms. She buried her face against his chest, her shoulders shaking though he could tell she wasn't truly crying. He stroked her hair, slowly. Steady. That was what she needed, after all. A fixed point. A refuge. And despite the fact that he now had a son to worry about... despite the fact that the woman he loved may be lost forever and that it was, at least in large part, his fault... despite the fact that both hallways could just go up in smoke for a variety of reasons... he could be a constant for her, as long as he was able.
She looked like both her parents, as she grew. He saw all that he loved in her mother, all that made him furious in her father, but she was at the end of the day only herself. His goddaughter had grown into an extraordinary, occasionally terrifying young woman. It had been easy, when she was small, to know what to do for her. What would make her happy. He wondered if it would be like that with his own son. If one day he would wake up and realize he was beyond reaching out to him.
But that day hadn't come. Not yet.
For now, he knew his son was being watched over. This room was where he was needed. The warmth of her in his arms... the solidity of her affection and her fear. He would take all that was offered. Hold her as long as she needed. Be with her, in the cool, dim silence.
And then, when she was ready... he would let her go.
Fandom/original: Original.
Rating: G
A/N:
rougen's original prompt was "SUCK." Which led to a surprisingly meditative little piece. Ah well. A 15 minute fic.He hated seeing her like this. Her cheeks were hollowed, her color pallid. She looked like such a child. Eighteen, and even that had come far too fast. She had to cope with situations he hadn't been ready for at nearly double her age. Situations he still wasn't ready for, if he was honest with himself. And frankly, these days, he was too tired to be anything else. She faltered, attempting to speak. The light was dim, the shadows muted, and everything around them was quiet.
Without a word, he gathered her into his arms. She buried her face against his chest, her shoulders shaking though he could tell she wasn't truly crying. He stroked her hair, slowly. Steady. That was what she needed, after all. A fixed point. A refuge. And despite the fact that he now had a son to worry about... despite the fact that the woman he loved may be lost forever and that it was, at least in large part, his fault... despite the fact that both hallways could just go up in smoke for a variety of reasons... he could be a constant for her, as long as he was able.
She looked like both her parents, as she grew. He saw all that he loved in her mother, all that made him furious in her father, but she was at the end of the day only herself. His goddaughter had grown into an extraordinary, occasionally terrifying young woman. It had been easy, when she was small, to know what to do for her. What would make her happy. He wondered if it would be like that with his own son. If one day he would wake up and realize he was beyond reaching out to him.
But that day hadn't come. Not yet.
For now, he knew his son was being watched over. This room was where he was needed. The warmth of her in his arms... the solidity of her affection and her fear. He would take all that was offered. Hold her as long as she needed. Be with her, in the cool, dim silence.
And then, when she was ready... he would let her go.
