comment_fic round up
Mar. 5th, 2011 08:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
redfiona99A quick round up of the second batch of fics I've written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic
Fandom: Inception
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made from this.
Characters/Pairings: Arthur, Mal/Cobb
Rating: 12
Prompt: Inception, Dom/Mal, unraveling (Arthur's POV)
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for the thing that happens before the film starts.
Time winds from different points.
The last time Arthur saw her, Mal was fine. Rosy, even. It was a week after Philippa's birthday, and she and Dom were planning something. Something huge that they weren't going to let Arthur in on. From what Miles said, it was something experimental. If they weren't telling Arthur it meant that it was experimental and dangerous, which was exactly the kind of thing he needed to know about. Because Dom had no sense of danger, and Mal would do anything to keep Dom happy, and Dom liked to keep her interest, and Mal was always interested in cutting edge and dangerous [her 21st birthday present was a sky-dive]. They needed someone to keep them safe.
That was where it started to unwind.
Seeing her now, it was odd. She was healthy enough; she'd gone to see a doctor on Miles's suggestion, just a bit disorientated, like she was just waking up, but constantly. She wouldn't tell him what had happened, told him that it was alright, that this would pass soon, and then she'd been fine. Dom wasn't saying anything either. Arthur had pieced together a little about what had happened, they'd got a little lost in dreams, but nothing major, according to Dom. Mal just smiled, weakly, when asked.
There was nothing, no-one, to stop it unwinding.
The next time Arthur saw her, Mal looked frazzled. Not physically, Mal was never anything less than perfectly turned out, Arthur even took her suit shopping with him sometimes because she was the only other person whose taste he trusted. It was something deeper, like some of the guys he knew that were back from the war.
Arthur didn't know how to help her, because there was something wrong, and she wouldn't talk about it. If Mal didn't want to do something she didn't do it. He tried asking, and he tried pleading. He tried tricking her into it. Arthur even tried to cajole her into it by saying he'd show her the work he'd done on her favourite layout, all Escher waterfalls, and birds and adventure. She turned him down flat. She didn't use the dream machines since whatever happened. She said she was scared of forgetting what was real. Arthur didn't push her after that.
Someone had to wind it back up.
When he saw her next, she was dead. Closed casket funeral. Closed off Dom. Police closing in. He should have tried harder, stopped them at the start or, more realistically, helped them at the start, because when Mal decided to something, it happened. Since he couldn't do that, he's going to help Dom with whatever he's planning to do. He can't keep Mal safe anymore.
Fandom: Sherlock
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made from this.
Characters/Pairings: John Watson, Mycroft
Rating: PG
Prompt: Sherlock BBC, Sherlock, Mycroft, John. Mycroft protects his brother whether he wants it or not. The same applies to anything and anyone that belongs to his brother.
Warnings/Spoilers: Character death
John tries to say no. He doesn't want the money, he doesn't really need the money and he most certainly doesn't need Mycroft's pity. Just because he can't get a job at the moment, and he can't actually keep 221B Baker Street, because central London rents are what they are and Sherlock's case fees were the only thing enabling them to pay for it and he doesn't have that anymore, none of that means he needs money.
He hates the way people look at him, like he's some non-functional, half-mad cripple, which he's not, in any way, and Sherlock was the one person who understood that. No, he really doesn't need to see another psychiatrist, because that wouldn't bring Sherlock back and that is the major problem in his life. No, as the third of the bloody people he had to see on Mycroft's suggestions, which for suggestion read order with threats, he doesn't have some sort of survivor's guilt. Sherlock knew what he was doing. He's had some funny looks over that statement, and that's when he loses it. Which doesn't help with his claim that John Watson is okay.
Mycroft couches his offers of charity nicely. He has a friend who owns a surgery, who is going on an extended holiday and needs a new partner. Or he has a friend who is taking a career break after her maternity leave and needs someone to take over her surgery. If the pattern amongst Mycroft's friends is repeated throughout the NHS, it's a miracle that there are any staffed surgeries whatsoever.
It doesn't matter how nicely Mycroft asks, it's the principle of the thing that's stopping him. If he moves out, people will touch Sherlock's things. That was the worst thing about coming home day after day, finding the remnants of fingerprint powder everywhere in the flat. Someone had been in there, touching Sherlock's stuff, disturbing the precise lack of order, Anderson's horrid bony fingers running over Sherlock's stuff, infecting it with stupidity (oh God, he has to stop hearing what he thinks would be Sherlock's opinion on the matter). If the circumstances had been different, he would have left Sherlock a note. No more killers in the sitting room, it only means police visits and having to explain where you got the fresh eyes from this time.
He had no reason to leave notes like that anymore.
A better man would be kinder to Mycroft, but Mycroft takes to kindness even less well that John does. Mycroft hates euphemisms; it's something he shares ... shared with his brother. They were so similar, even if neither of them would have admitted it.
"I don't need any money."
"I know. Of course you don't *need* it." There was a pause. "No one needs to know that you've taken it."
"I don't want to take your money."
"It's mine to give." Mycroft was halfway through the door. "Sherlock had three friends in all of his life. That makes you important to me, whether you like it or not."
Of course, the other thing they shared was the ability to understand how people's minds worked. John couldn't let a carrot of information like that go without chasing after it. "Who were the other two?"
"William Trevor and ... I'll tell you the other name if you take the partnership with Stevenson."
John needed to know, wanted to know more about Sherlock's past, to see if it explained anything about him. Something had to explain him. "I'll take it."
"I thought you might." John knew that now that Mycroft had found out that throwing breadcrumbs of information would get John to agree to his plans, he would keep doing that. And yet John didn't care, this was as close as he could get to getting Sherlock back. He needed to know whether this William Trevor had the same urge to throttle Sherlock when he was so superior and yet couldn't remember to buy the bread, and then he'd do something amazing, so incredible that you'd forgive him for the unspeakably annoying thing he was about to do three seconds later. John would do anything to find out more, this wasn't accepting charity, this was investigation.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made from this.
Characters/Pairings: 10/Master
Rating: PG
Prompt: Doctor Who, Ten/Master, the worst thing of all was that he was tempted.
Warnings/Spoilers: May contain over-extended metaphors and dodgy physics.
Of course he was tempted, so he did what he always did, he ran. It was what he was. He chased the stars across the sky, and raced photons. The fear never burned out. If he chose to he could grab the Master by the hand and ... And what?
He couldn't stay in one place, not for long, he'd been stuck on Earth before, and it itched at his bones, he was driven by a frenzy to keep moving, because if he kept moving, his past couldn't catch up with him, he couldn't catch up with himself and all the things he'd done. He'd remain a whispered threat.
The Master couldn't cope with that. The Master had plans for the universe, and a stolen TARDIS of his own, but all his plans featured a palace, a headquarters. You couldn't rule the universe or any part of it if you didn't know when you'd be tomorrow.
They really were the immovable object and the unstoppable force.
Except he was sure that the unstoppable force wasn't supposed to worry about how the immovable object felt, trying to come up with a way of preventing his plans from coming to fruition without hurting him. Keeping the object safe, even if that mostly meant safe from himself.
In those moments of indecision, there's hope. But it never lasts because, and this is the terrible irony, it's the Master who starts to move, needing an answer now. So they miss each other, no contact is made and the rules of physics stay unharmed. Things are as they are, as they were, as they have been for so long. As Time Lords, and as children of Gallifrey, he would have thought they would understand better than most that you can't go back, and trying to would only bring more pain for everyone.
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made from this.
Characters/Pairings: Desmond
Rating: PG
Prompt: Assassin's Creed; Desmond; He forgets him name
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for the game. A one-sentence fic.
He's there, fighting, killing, when the world goes hazy round him; an unknown woman is shouting 'Desmond' and Altaïr doesn't know where he is.
Fandom: Sherlock
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made from this.
Characters/Pairings: Moriarty/Sherlock
Rating: PG
Prompt: Sherlock, Moriarty/Sherlock, partners in crime
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for the series. A one-sentence fic.
Jim lays a breadcrumb trail in blood and Sherlock follows it, because Moriarty is the only criminal worth catching.
Fandoms: Sherlock and Inception
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made from this.
Characters/Pairings: Saito and Mycroft
Rating: G
Prompt: Sherlock (BBC)/Inception, Mycroft&Saito, they meet once a month to discuss world domination over tea
Warnings/Spoilers: No offense is intended to the one real person mentioned in this fic. I'm sure Richard Branson won't mind.
Once a month, economics and world events allowing, they meet for tea. They use a little table at the back of the Stranger's Room in the Diogenes Club.
Mycroft states that he does it as part of his role in the Department of Business, Innovation and Skills. Saito is a major employer in the UK. When one of his departmental staff asked why he didn't meet with the head of Kobol as regularly, he put them off with a few words about how many more jobs Saito's company controls than Kobol. He makes sure the woman in question is given a pay rise at the next available opportunity. He approves of observation and diligence in his staff.
The truth is more complicated.
Saito's company is huge, that is the truth, but so are lots of others. Saito himself, however, is a most remarkable man. Mycroft has found most businessmen to be singularly one-track-minded, originally about their business, and then later about whatever their main interest is - see Branson and his endless ballooning.
Saito, on the other hand, is frequently interested in things because he is interested in them. The thing may not have any immediate application for his company (although, given the size and breadth of it, Mycroft finds it hard to believe there is anything that can't be used by Saito's company), but he is willing to fund it anyway.
This is not to say that Saito is a dilettante, he is most remarkably clear-headed. It shows itself in his conversation and his success.
Also, unlike every other businessman Mycroft has ever met, Saito is a man of taste. He brings his own tea, and is kind enough to share it with Mycroft. He also brings sweet delicacies from wherever he's most recently been. For all that Mycroft is watching his figure; it's a delicious treat that he is grateful for.
If these meetings were ever investigated, Mycroft knows that this couldn't be called lobbying. Sherlock calls it corruption by chocolate, but then again, he always has been small-minded. Yes, Saito occasionally, and very subtly, hints that his company could do with some help here and there, normally with British bureaucracy, and Mycroft does help, when it's in the public interest.
In return, Mycroft gets better data for the department, Saito's own analysts being better resourced than any government agency.
And then, when their business is done, he is able to talk with someone with a brilliant mind, about any topic. That is Saito's greatest gift to him. It's so rare to come across someone else with such wide-ranging knowledge.
Yes, and then they talk.
comment_ficFandom: Inception
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made from this.
Characters/Pairings: Arthur, Mal/Cobb
Rating: 12
Prompt: Inception, Dom/Mal, unraveling (Arthur's POV)
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for the thing that happens before the film starts.
Time winds from different points.
The last time Arthur saw her, Mal was fine. Rosy, even. It was a week after Philippa's birthday, and she and Dom were planning something. Something huge that they weren't going to let Arthur in on. From what Miles said, it was something experimental. If they weren't telling Arthur it meant that it was experimental and dangerous, which was exactly the kind of thing he needed to know about. Because Dom had no sense of danger, and Mal would do anything to keep Dom happy, and Dom liked to keep her interest, and Mal was always interested in cutting edge and dangerous [her 21st birthday present was a sky-dive]. They needed someone to keep them safe.
That was where it started to unwind.
Seeing her now, it was odd. She was healthy enough; she'd gone to see a doctor on Miles's suggestion, just a bit disorientated, like she was just waking up, but constantly. She wouldn't tell him what had happened, told him that it was alright, that this would pass soon, and then she'd been fine. Dom wasn't saying anything either. Arthur had pieced together a little about what had happened, they'd got a little lost in dreams, but nothing major, according to Dom. Mal just smiled, weakly, when asked.
There was nothing, no-one, to stop it unwinding.
The next time Arthur saw her, Mal looked frazzled. Not physically, Mal was never anything less than perfectly turned out, Arthur even took her suit shopping with him sometimes because she was the only other person whose taste he trusted. It was something deeper, like some of the guys he knew that were back from the war.
Arthur didn't know how to help her, because there was something wrong, and she wouldn't talk about it. If Mal didn't want to do something she didn't do it. He tried asking, and he tried pleading. He tried tricking her into it. Arthur even tried to cajole her into it by saying he'd show her the work he'd done on her favourite layout, all Escher waterfalls, and birds and adventure. She turned him down flat. She didn't use the dream machines since whatever happened. She said she was scared of forgetting what was real. Arthur didn't push her after that.
Someone had to wind it back up.
When he saw her next, she was dead. Closed casket funeral. Closed off Dom. Police closing in. He should have tried harder, stopped them at the start or, more realistically, helped them at the start, because when Mal decided to something, it happened. Since he couldn't do that, he's going to help Dom with whatever he's planning to do. He can't keep Mal safe anymore.
Fandom: Sherlock
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made from this.
Characters/Pairings: John Watson, Mycroft
Rating: PG
Prompt: Sherlock BBC, Sherlock, Mycroft, John. Mycroft protects his brother whether he wants it or not. The same applies to anything and anyone that belongs to his brother.
Warnings/Spoilers: Character death
John tries to say no. He doesn't want the money, he doesn't really need the money and he most certainly doesn't need Mycroft's pity. Just because he can't get a job at the moment, and he can't actually keep 221B Baker Street, because central London rents are what they are and Sherlock's case fees were the only thing enabling them to pay for it and he doesn't have that anymore, none of that means he needs money.
He hates the way people look at him, like he's some non-functional, half-mad cripple, which he's not, in any way, and Sherlock was the one person who understood that. No, he really doesn't need to see another psychiatrist, because that wouldn't bring Sherlock back and that is the major problem in his life. No, as the third of the bloody people he had to see on Mycroft's suggestions, which for suggestion read order with threats, he doesn't have some sort of survivor's guilt. Sherlock knew what he was doing. He's had some funny looks over that statement, and that's when he loses it. Which doesn't help with his claim that John Watson is okay.
Mycroft couches his offers of charity nicely. He has a friend who owns a surgery, who is going on an extended holiday and needs a new partner. Or he has a friend who is taking a career break after her maternity leave and needs someone to take over her surgery. If the pattern amongst Mycroft's friends is repeated throughout the NHS, it's a miracle that there are any staffed surgeries whatsoever.
It doesn't matter how nicely Mycroft asks, it's the principle of the thing that's stopping him. If he moves out, people will touch Sherlock's things. That was the worst thing about coming home day after day, finding the remnants of fingerprint powder everywhere in the flat. Someone had been in there, touching Sherlock's stuff, disturbing the precise lack of order, Anderson's horrid bony fingers running over Sherlock's stuff, infecting it with stupidity (oh God, he has to stop hearing what he thinks would be Sherlock's opinion on the matter). If the circumstances had been different, he would have left Sherlock a note. No more killers in the sitting room, it only means police visits and having to explain where you got the fresh eyes from this time.
He had no reason to leave notes like that anymore.
A better man would be kinder to Mycroft, but Mycroft takes to kindness even less well that John does. Mycroft hates euphemisms; it's something he shares ... shared with his brother. They were so similar, even if neither of them would have admitted it.
"I don't need any money."
"I know. Of course you don't *need* it." There was a pause. "No one needs to know that you've taken it."
"I don't want to take your money."
"It's mine to give." Mycroft was halfway through the door. "Sherlock had three friends in all of his life. That makes you important to me, whether you like it or not."
Of course, the other thing they shared was the ability to understand how people's minds worked. John couldn't let a carrot of information like that go without chasing after it. "Who were the other two?"
"William Trevor and ... I'll tell you the other name if you take the partnership with Stevenson."
John needed to know, wanted to know more about Sherlock's past, to see if it explained anything about him. Something had to explain him. "I'll take it."
"I thought you might." John knew that now that Mycroft had found out that throwing breadcrumbs of information would get John to agree to his plans, he would keep doing that. And yet John didn't care, this was as close as he could get to getting Sherlock back. He needed to know whether this William Trevor had the same urge to throttle Sherlock when he was so superior and yet couldn't remember to buy the bread, and then he'd do something amazing, so incredible that you'd forgive him for the unspeakably annoying thing he was about to do three seconds later. John would do anything to find out more, this wasn't accepting charity, this was investigation.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made from this.
Characters/Pairings: 10/Master
Rating: PG
Prompt: Doctor Who, Ten/Master, the worst thing of all was that he was tempted.
Warnings/Spoilers: May contain over-extended metaphors and dodgy physics.
Of course he was tempted, so he did what he always did, he ran. It was what he was. He chased the stars across the sky, and raced photons. The fear never burned out. If he chose to he could grab the Master by the hand and ... And what?
He couldn't stay in one place, not for long, he'd been stuck on Earth before, and it itched at his bones, he was driven by a frenzy to keep moving, because if he kept moving, his past couldn't catch up with him, he couldn't catch up with himself and all the things he'd done. He'd remain a whispered threat.
The Master couldn't cope with that. The Master had plans for the universe, and a stolen TARDIS of his own, but all his plans featured a palace, a headquarters. You couldn't rule the universe or any part of it if you didn't know when you'd be tomorrow.
They really were the immovable object and the unstoppable force.
Except he was sure that the unstoppable force wasn't supposed to worry about how the immovable object felt, trying to come up with a way of preventing his plans from coming to fruition without hurting him. Keeping the object safe, even if that mostly meant safe from himself.
In those moments of indecision, there's hope. But it never lasts because, and this is the terrible irony, it's the Master who starts to move, needing an answer now. So they miss each other, no contact is made and the rules of physics stay unharmed. Things are as they are, as they were, as they have been for so long. As Time Lords, and as children of Gallifrey, he would have thought they would understand better than most that you can't go back, and trying to would only bring more pain for everyone.
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made from this.
Characters/Pairings: Desmond
Rating: PG
Prompt: Assassin's Creed; Desmond; He forgets him name
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for the game. A one-sentence fic.
He's there, fighting, killing, when the world goes hazy round him; an unknown woman is shouting 'Desmond' and Altaïr doesn't know where he is.
Fandom: Sherlock
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made from this.
Characters/Pairings: Moriarty/Sherlock
Rating: PG
Prompt: Sherlock, Moriarty/Sherlock, partners in crime
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for the series. A one-sentence fic.
Jim lays a breadcrumb trail in blood and Sherlock follows it, because Moriarty is the only criminal worth catching.
Fandoms: Sherlock and Inception
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made from this.
Characters/Pairings: Saito and Mycroft
Rating: G
Prompt: Sherlock (BBC)/Inception, Mycroft&Saito, they meet once a month to discuss world domination over tea
Warnings/Spoilers: No offense is intended to the one real person mentioned in this fic. I'm sure Richard Branson won't mind.
Once a month, economics and world events allowing, they meet for tea. They use a little table at the back of the Stranger's Room in the Diogenes Club.
Mycroft states that he does it as part of his role in the Department of Business, Innovation and Skills. Saito is a major employer in the UK. When one of his departmental staff asked why he didn't meet with the head of Kobol as regularly, he put them off with a few words about how many more jobs Saito's company controls than Kobol. He makes sure the woman in question is given a pay rise at the next available opportunity. He approves of observation and diligence in his staff.
The truth is more complicated.
Saito's company is huge, that is the truth, but so are lots of others. Saito himself, however, is a most remarkable man. Mycroft has found most businessmen to be singularly one-track-minded, originally about their business, and then later about whatever their main interest is - see Branson and his endless ballooning.
Saito, on the other hand, is frequently interested in things because he is interested in them. The thing may not have any immediate application for his company (although, given the size and breadth of it, Mycroft finds it hard to believe there is anything that can't be used by Saito's company), but he is willing to fund it anyway.
This is not to say that Saito is a dilettante, he is most remarkably clear-headed. It shows itself in his conversation and his success.
Also, unlike every other businessman Mycroft has ever met, Saito is a man of taste. He brings his own tea, and is kind enough to share it with Mycroft. He also brings sweet delicacies from wherever he's most recently been. For all that Mycroft is watching his figure; it's a delicious treat that he is grateful for.
If these meetings were ever investigated, Mycroft knows that this couldn't be called lobbying. Sherlock calls it corruption by chocolate, but then again, he always has been small-minded. Yes, Saito occasionally, and very subtly, hints that his company could do with some help here and there, normally with British bureaucracy, and Mycroft does help, when it's in the public interest.
In return, Mycroft gets better data for the department, Saito's own analysts being better resourced than any government agency.
And then, when their business is done, he is able to talk with someone with a brilliant mind, about any topic. That is Saito's greatest gift to him. It's so rare to come across someone else with such wide-ranging knowledge.
Yes, and then they talk.
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Date: 2011-03-06 07:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-06 06:00 pm (UTC)