Post by nemesis on Oct 19, 2006 17:55:46 GMT -5
I haven't written a fanfic in a very very long time. So this could be rusty crap but what the hell. I feel like writing. Feedback, suggestions and constructive critiscm is rewarded with cyber cookies.
Title: Storms Are Like Rainbows Too. (Was titled 'Cellar Door' but then I remembered I titled one of my Connor/Stephens that years ago. Must stop watching Donnie Darko).
Timeline: Begins on the day of 'Not Fade Away'.
Main Characters: Connor, Wesley, Fred.
Rating: R, but this part is PG. I just always label my fics R to cover my back because I get a little over-zealous with language, violence and sex.
Part One
Wolfram and Hart didn't appear to falling down or shaking from the outside. It seemed the same, a huge baston of power and nothing but. The evil itself never seemed as important as its power. At least not to Connor. He stood eyes shut outside the building in the darkness listening to the traffic go by, to the people talking, the traffic lights flashing away. The world hadn't even noticed. Not for one second. It seemed surreal to Connor. Why hadn't time stopped? Why was such an event happening and world was unblinking? Even animals can sense danger, tornados, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions. But not people, people had a special gift of ignoring imminent danger. Maybe like with animals this was just another survival tactic.
"Does the 68 come this way?", an elderly lady was standing in front of Connor smiling gently.
"Huh?", it took Connor a moment to register that she was talking to him. Heat of battle was rising through the pavement and choking his senses, demons of unidentified numbers were massing to L.A. And he was being asked about a bus by an elderly lady. She seemed nice though, maybe early sixtys, smiling softly a little lost but she didn't seem worried. He could relate, its just the getting 'unlost' part.
"Well..", Connor smiled softly and ran a hand to the base of his neck up through his hair. "Actually, I think its two streets over", he pointed to the right. She looked to were his outstretched arm indicated and smiled and then looked him over.
"You don't look like your having a good time of it, are you BLEEDING?".
"Oh. no...I..I just hit my head".
"Ahh...clumsy young thing, go have yourself a nice sweet cup of tea. Cure for anything my Mother always said".
"Uh, tea yeah thanks, see ya later".
Maybe he would have a cup of tea. Hell on earth was about to be unleashed. Yeah. Tea.
"Personally I'd usually go with weed", Connor turned rapidly at that soft, tender voice across the street, in the road, but people continued walking and lights continued flashing. Bewildered and hopeful he found nothing and shut his eyes again.
"Great. I'm going crazy, I should get a cool crazy guy thing. Maybe I could insist all white food is evil...oh wait didn't Atkins...".
"You came back...after, after everything. I'm so proud of you. You wanted to help".
"Fred your dead", it was a statement.
"Yeah its having a bad affect on my social life". Connor smiled and turned. To a warmth he felt behind him. Though no one was stood there.
"So how do I know your, not part of an evil plot to manipulate me or otherwise batter and butcher me?".
"Ya don't".
"Damn straight".
"I just need one last favour...or you know, a first favour"
"What?"
"RUN!", the shout echoed through Connor's ears but no one else heard it.
He'd been lying lifeless on the ground for five minutes. His heart had stopped beating. His eyes had dulled. He'd gone peacefully for a fighter.
"One, two, three-", crack, the feel of Wesley's bones cracking under Connor's hands was more terrifying than Connor had ever imagined. He stopped counting outloud as his lungs started to ache. Tears swelled in his eyes as a feeling of utter uselessness took over. He leaned into Wesley's face again, tilting back his chin, lowering his mouth to Wesley's and breathing in watching Wesley's chest rise ever so slightly. And again he pumped against Wesley's chest, the frustration overcoming him as he struggled to use the right amount of pressure and not simply crush Wesley's chest. Connor could hear Wesley's heart beating artifically with every push he administered. Finally a soft throbb eminated from Wesley's body, and Connor fell back, dialling 911 on his cellphone. He was breathing, but he wouldn't be for long without help, he'd lost too much blood and the make-shift tournacout from Connor's shirt wasn't exactly promising.
"Mugging, the boy told me his names Cloud Strife", the nurse offered softly to the doctor. "Its a miracle he's alive".
"Apparently his names Cloud?", returned the doctor, brushing down his scrubs softly.
"Well...thats what the boy who brought him in said, he had no identification. Only...".
"Only what?", the doctor asked distractedly. The young nurse looked up colour rising in her cheeks as her head turned away slightly.
"Well Cloud Strife is a character in a computer game".
"What?".
Wesley looked with half open eyes, dazed at the sleeping form of Connor sat across from his bed. His hair had fallen over his eyes haphazardly and his knees where bent in the corner of the chair so that his legs where tucked beneath him. He looked peaceful and angelic, like he did when he slept as a baby. Only now his puffed panda eyes betrayed a lack of sleep, tears and possibly stress. And a piece of gauze taped over the crook of his right arm suggested he'd given blood recently. His eyelashes seemed long and his mouth delicate now that he wasn't sneering or frowning. Connor had brought Wesley back to life, Connor. Of all people. Had he tracked Wesley down? Where was Angel and had anyone survived? No, stupid thought.
He closed his eyes with and sank back into that familiar feel of the hosiptal bed and mortal injury. At least this time he wasn't alone.
End of part one.
Definitely not my best work. But its pure catharsis. Connor gets to be a hero and Wesley gets to live.
Title: Storms Are Like Rainbows Too. (Was titled 'Cellar Door' but then I remembered I titled one of my Connor/Stephens that years ago. Must stop watching Donnie Darko).
Timeline: Begins on the day of 'Not Fade Away'.
Main Characters: Connor, Wesley, Fred.
Rating: R, but this part is PG. I just always label my fics R to cover my back because I get a little over-zealous with language, violence and sex.
Part One
Wolfram and Hart didn't appear to falling down or shaking from the outside. It seemed the same, a huge baston of power and nothing but. The evil itself never seemed as important as its power. At least not to Connor. He stood eyes shut outside the building in the darkness listening to the traffic go by, to the people talking, the traffic lights flashing away. The world hadn't even noticed. Not for one second. It seemed surreal to Connor. Why hadn't time stopped? Why was such an event happening and world was unblinking? Even animals can sense danger, tornados, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions. But not people, people had a special gift of ignoring imminent danger. Maybe like with animals this was just another survival tactic.
"Does the 68 come this way?", an elderly lady was standing in front of Connor smiling gently.
"Huh?", it took Connor a moment to register that she was talking to him. Heat of battle was rising through the pavement and choking his senses, demons of unidentified numbers were massing to L.A. And he was being asked about a bus by an elderly lady. She seemed nice though, maybe early sixtys, smiling softly a little lost but she didn't seem worried. He could relate, its just the getting 'unlost' part.
"Well..", Connor smiled softly and ran a hand to the base of his neck up through his hair. "Actually, I think its two streets over", he pointed to the right. She looked to were his outstretched arm indicated and smiled and then looked him over.
"You don't look like your having a good time of it, are you BLEEDING?".
"Oh. no...I..I just hit my head".
"Ahh...clumsy young thing, go have yourself a nice sweet cup of tea. Cure for anything my Mother always said".
"Uh, tea yeah thanks, see ya later".
Maybe he would have a cup of tea. Hell on earth was about to be unleashed. Yeah. Tea.
"Personally I'd usually go with weed", Connor turned rapidly at that soft, tender voice across the street, in the road, but people continued walking and lights continued flashing. Bewildered and hopeful he found nothing and shut his eyes again.
"Great. I'm going crazy, I should get a cool crazy guy thing. Maybe I could insist all white food is evil...oh wait didn't Atkins...".
"You came back...after, after everything. I'm so proud of you. You wanted to help".
"Fred your dead", it was a statement.
"Yeah its having a bad affect on my social life". Connor smiled and turned. To a warmth he felt behind him. Though no one was stood there.
"So how do I know your, not part of an evil plot to manipulate me or otherwise batter and butcher me?".
"Ya don't".
"Damn straight".
"I just need one last favour...or you know, a first favour"
"What?"
"RUN!", the shout echoed through Connor's ears but no one else heard it.
He'd been lying lifeless on the ground for five minutes. His heart had stopped beating. His eyes had dulled. He'd gone peacefully for a fighter.
"One, two, three-", crack, the feel of Wesley's bones cracking under Connor's hands was more terrifying than Connor had ever imagined. He stopped counting outloud as his lungs started to ache. Tears swelled in his eyes as a feeling of utter uselessness took over. He leaned into Wesley's face again, tilting back his chin, lowering his mouth to Wesley's and breathing in watching Wesley's chest rise ever so slightly. And again he pumped against Wesley's chest, the frustration overcoming him as he struggled to use the right amount of pressure and not simply crush Wesley's chest. Connor could hear Wesley's heart beating artifically with every push he administered. Finally a soft throbb eminated from Wesley's body, and Connor fell back, dialling 911 on his cellphone. He was breathing, but he wouldn't be for long without help, he'd lost too much blood and the make-shift tournacout from Connor's shirt wasn't exactly promising.
"Mugging, the boy told me his names Cloud Strife", the nurse offered softly to the doctor. "Its a miracle he's alive".
"Apparently his names Cloud?", returned the doctor, brushing down his scrubs softly.
"Well...thats what the boy who brought him in said, he had no identification. Only...".
"Only what?", the doctor asked distractedly. The young nurse looked up colour rising in her cheeks as her head turned away slightly.
"Well Cloud Strife is a character in a computer game".
"What?".
Wesley looked with half open eyes, dazed at the sleeping form of Connor sat across from his bed. His hair had fallen over his eyes haphazardly and his knees where bent in the corner of the chair so that his legs where tucked beneath him. He looked peaceful and angelic, like he did when he slept as a baby. Only now his puffed panda eyes betrayed a lack of sleep, tears and possibly stress. And a piece of gauze taped over the crook of his right arm suggested he'd given blood recently. His eyelashes seemed long and his mouth delicate now that he wasn't sneering or frowning. Connor had brought Wesley back to life, Connor. Of all people. Had he tracked Wesley down? Where was Angel and had anyone survived? No, stupid thought.
He closed his eyes with and sank back into that familiar feel of the hosiptal bed and mortal injury. At least this time he wasn't alone.
End of part one.
Definitely not my best work. But its pure catharsis. Connor gets to be a hero and Wesley gets to live.