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sb_fag_ends2014-10-25 12:43 am
gillo) wrote in sb_fag_ends2014-10-25 12:43 am
Entry tags:
Fic: A Final Time for Everything.
Prompt: Annabel Lee
Rating: PG
Warning for character death.
Length: 217 words
Set a very long while post-series.
A Final Time for Everything.
The first time she died he wasn’t there, hadn’t even heard of Sunnyhell.
The second time she died it near enough broke him. He collapsed in on himself at the sight of her body broken on the ground and, though he kept going for the sake of the bitty one and because of his promise, he was a shell of the thing he had been.
The third time she died he was on his way out of town on a bike, off to get the one thing he could get that she might accept, not even aware she’d been shot, let alone that she was flatlining.
The fourth time was the last time. He sat by her, holding her hand in the hospital, travelled with her in the ambulance so she could have her final looks at the mountains, the desert, the sea. He’d pushed her wheelchair down the boardwalk and carried her onto the beach and soothed her by stroking her and telling her it was OK to go and he loved her and always would, but avoided making any promises at all.
And when she’d gone he sat by her all night, and then, as the first streaks of dawn marked the sky in the east, lay down beside her and waited for the light.
Rating: PG
Warning for character death.
Length: 217 words
Set a very long while post-series.
A Final Time for Everything.
The first time she died he wasn’t there, hadn’t even heard of Sunnyhell.
The second time she died it near enough broke him. He collapsed in on himself at the sight of her body broken on the ground and, though he kept going for the sake of the bitty one and because of his promise, he was a shell of the thing he had been.
The third time she died he was on his way out of town on a bike, off to get the one thing he could get that she might accept, not even aware she’d been shot, let alone that she was flatlining.
The fourth time was the last time. He sat by her, holding her hand in the hospital, travelled with her in the ambulance so she could have her final looks at the mountains, the desert, the sea. He’d pushed her wheelchair down the boardwalk and carried her onto the beach and soothed her by stroking her and telling her it was OK to go and he loved her and always would, but avoided making any promises at all.
And when she’d gone he sat by her all night, and then, as the first streaks of dawn marked the sky in the east, lay down beside her and waited for the light.