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booshslashhavenTitle: Enigma Variations, Coda, 5/?:
Summary: We know what must be done
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Length: about 730 words – yes, I am dealing it out in chunks again
Spoilers: Vince needs a hankie but hasn’t got one
Disclaimer: these characters aren’t mine, more’s the pity, and I make no profit from writing about them
Notes: once again, sorry this is taking so long to update, but the Special of Doom had to take priority! There is another chunk almost ready to post, I think, and I have now transcribed all of the rather rambly scribbles from that particular bit of my notebook, so I’m hoping I’ll be able to reconcile them all into something resembling a plot...
Enigma Variations, Coda, 5/?: Complicated
‘Trouble,’ Vince whispers to Howard, interrupting their kiss as the sound of weeping registers with Vince’s newly invigorated brain cell.
The big man nods. ‘Sounds like it. We’d better go and see what we can do.’
It’s not easy to let Howard go, after so long when Vince barely had the energy to hold hands with him, and Howard clearly feels the same way about letting Vince go, so they wriggle to the edge of the bed, still entwined.
‘I knew it,’ Howard mutters, staring at the two slumped shamen and the tealeaf message on the floor. ‘At least, I should have known it.’ He reaches towards his own wrist, as though to give himself a Chinese burn.
Vince grabs Howard’s hand, just in time. ‘That won’t help. But we know what will. Don’t we?’
‘Do we?’ Howard looks blank.
Vince rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, we do. We know what’ll help Naboo, anyway...’
Without waiting for Howard to finish working it out, Vince slithers off the bed – surprised at how graceful and painless his movements now are – and kneels down, careful to avoid the bits of broken teacup.
‘What did you do?’ he asks Saboo. ‘It’s a freakin’ miracle. How did you fix me?’
Saboo just looks at him through tear-filled eyes, and can’t speak.
‘He gave you twenty years,’ Naboo lisps hoarsely. ‘I wasn’t strong enough, and he...’ He clutches desperately at Saboo’s hand.
‘Twenty years... Blimey.’ Vince shakes his head, to clear it. ‘You mean, off his own life?’
‘To rewind your timeline, to before you were ill.’ Naboo doubles up in a fit of weak coughing.
Saboo moans faintly. Vince leans over and puts a hand on his shoulder. To give Vince a new start, this man – this shaman – has risked his life, and Naboo’s as well, and Vince is determined not to let either of them down now it’s come to the crunch.
Not this time.
‘What can I do,’ Vince asks urgently, ‘how can I help?’
A tremor shakes Naboo’s skinny little body. ‘I need...’
‘Little one, I can’t,’ Saboo sobs. ‘I can’t...’
Vince feels his face crack into a wicked grin as Howard bends down, long and lean and magnificently bewhiskered, and scoops Naboo up into his arms. ‘I know you can’t,’ Vince whispers in Saboo’s ear. ‘But we can.’
Howard lays Naboo gently down on the bed; lies down beside him.
‘Naboo’s gonna be OK,’ Vince says. ‘Believe me. He’s gonna be fine.’
‘I hope he can forgive me,’ Saboo whispers.
‘Forgive you for what?’
‘He would have died for you either way. All I’ve done is give him the easier death, the one he’s had to be prepared for all his life... Easier for him, perhaps. But not for me – not for me...’
Vince hugs him tight. ‘Shush, don’t be stupid, Naboo’s not gonna die... Howard’s gonna sort him out, aren’t you, Howard? Now you’re all young ‘n’everythin’ –’
‘It should be you in that bed with Howard, Vince,’ Saboo chokes.
‘It will be him,’ Howard says from on top of the bed. ‘What, did you think I had only one shot in my locker?’
‘He’s right,’ Vince says. ‘Y’know what they call him? The well-filled locker. Yes sir, chicka-chicka, comin’ at you in a hail of Northern Bullets... an’ I’m his next target. Sooner than you think, he’s quick on the draw for a man his age.’
‘Vince,’ Naboo says faintly.
‘Yeah?’
‘Shut up,’ Naboo and Howard say in unison.
Vince does, and there’s silence in the room, save for a few rustlings and murmurings from on top of the bed. Vince strokes slow circles across Saboo’s back, aware of the currents of life-energy flowing between the shaman and himself; perhaps Vince has gained an extra shaman-sense, because somehow he can feel Saboo’s uneasiness at each new sound, an uneasiness mingled with curiosity.
Naboo makes a small, needy whimper, and Saboo catches his breath.
‘Sorry,’ Vince says quietly, ‘is this weird? Would you rather go somewhere else while they’re gettin’ it on?’
Saboo shakes his head. ‘I’d rather...’
‘Be up there with them? Can do.’ Vince helps him to his feet, carefully, because he’s all wobbly; helps him take the few steps over to the edge of the bed.
‘There you go, now we’re all where the action is, it’ll be fine. Awww, no, don’t cry. Please don’t cry. Howard, have you got a hankie?’
Summary: We know what must be done
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Length: about 730 words – yes, I am dealing it out in chunks again
Spoilers: Vince needs a hankie but hasn’t got one
Disclaimer: these characters aren’t mine, more’s the pity, and I make no profit from writing about them
Notes: once again, sorry this is taking so long to update, but the Special of Doom had to take priority! There is another chunk almost ready to post, I think, and I have now transcribed all of the rather rambly scribbles from that particular bit of my notebook, so I’m hoping I’ll be able to reconcile them all into something resembling a plot...
Enigma Variations, Coda, 5/?: Complicated
‘Trouble,’ Vince whispers to Howard, interrupting their kiss as the sound of weeping registers with Vince’s newly invigorated brain cell.
The big man nods. ‘Sounds like it. We’d better go and see what we can do.’
It’s not easy to let Howard go, after so long when Vince barely had the energy to hold hands with him, and Howard clearly feels the same way about letting Vince go, so they wriggle to the edge of the bed, still entwined.
‘I knew it,’ Howard mutters, staring at the two slumped shamen and the tealeaf message on the floor. ‘At least, I should have known it.’ He reaches towards his own wrist, as though to give himself a Chinese burn.
Vince grabs Howard’s hand, just in time. ‘That won’t help. But we know what will. Don’t we?’
‘Do we?’ Howard looks blank.
Vince rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, we do. We know what’ll help Naboo, anyway...’
Without waiting for Howard to finish working it out, Vince slithers off the bed – surprised at how graceful and painless his movements now are – and kneels down, careful to avoid the bits of broken teacup.
‘What did you do?’ he asks Saboo. ‘It’s a freakin’ miracle. How did you fix me?’
Saboo just looks at him through tear-filled eyes, and can’t speak.
‘He gave you twenty years,’ Naboo lisps hoarsely. ‘I wasn’t strong enough, and he...’ He clutches desperately at Saboo’s hand.
‘Twenty years... Blimey.’ Vince shakes his head, to clear it. ‘You mean, off his own life?’
‘To rewind your timeline, to before you were ill.’ Naboo doubles up in a fit of weak coughing.
Saboo moans faintly. Vince leans over and puts a hand on his shoulder. To give Vince a new start, this man – this shaman – has risked his life, and Naboo’s as well, and Vince is determined not to let either of them down now it’s come to the crunch.
Not this time.
‘What can I do,’ Vince asks urgently, ‘how can I help?’
A tremor shakes Naboo’s skinny little body. ‘I need...’
‘Little one, I can’t,’ Saboo sobs. ‘I can’t...’
Vince feels his face crack into a wicked grin as Howard bends down, long and lean and magnificently bewhiskered, and scoops Naboo up into his arms. ‘I know you can’t,’ Vince whispers in Saboo’s ear. ‘But we can.’
Howard lays Naboo gently down on the bed; lies down beside him.
‘Naboo’s gonna be OK,’ Vince says. ‘Believe me. He’s gonna be fine.’
‘I hope he can forgive me,’ Saboo whispers.
‘Forgive you for what?’
‘He would have died for you either way. All I’ve done is give him the easier death, the one he’s had to be prepared for all his life... Easier for him, perhaps. But not for me – not for me...’
Vince hugs him tight. ‘Shush, don’t be stupid, Naboo’s not gonna die... Howard’s gonna sort him out, aren’t you, Howard? Now you’re all young ‘n’everythin’ –’
‘It should be you in that bed with Howard, Vince,’ Saboo chokes.
‘It will be him,’ Howard says from on top of the bed. ‘What, did you think I had only one shot in my locker?’
‘He’s right,’ Vince says. ‘Y’know what they call him? The well-filled locker. Yes sir, chicka-chicka, comin’ at you in a hail of Northern Bullets... an’ I’m his next target. Sooner than you think, he’s quick on the draw for a man his age.’
‘Vince,’ Naboo says faintly.
‘Yeah?’
‘Shut up,’ Naboo and Howard say in unison.
Vince does, and there’s silence in the room, save for a few rustlings and murmurings from on top of the bed. Vince strokes slow circles across Saboo’s back, aware of the currents of life-energy flowing between the shaman and himself; perhaps Vince has gained an extra shaman-sense, because somehow he can feel Saboo’s uneasiness at each new sound, an uneasiness mingled with curiosity.
Naboo makes a small, needy whimper, and Saboo catches his breath.
‘Sorry,’ Vince says quietly, ‘is this weird? Would you rather go somewhere else while they’re gettin’ it on?’
Saboo shakes his head. ‘I’d rather...’
‘Be up there with them? Can do.’ Vince helps him to his feet, carefully, because he’s all wobbly; helps him take the few steps over to the edge of the bed.
‘There you go, now we’re all where the action is, it’ll be fine. Awww, no, don’t cry. Please don’t cry. Howard, have you got a hankie?’
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Date: 2013-11-01 09:51 pm (UTC)