"Inheritance"
by
Jimaine
My
very first five-minute fic, and a true one it is. Four fifty-five on the
'Nobody ever…' challenge.
Rating:
PG
Pairing:
Hawkeye/B.J.
Archive:
mash-slash…somebody *please* resurrect it before I die??? And it can also be
found at T'Len's & Lady Charena's place.
Disclaimer:
none of it's mine, they belong to FOX, all eleven seasons (and don't I hate
them for it) and I'm just borrowing them for a little fun. No profits are made.
The
last paragraph I kinda semi-borrowed from a Sarah McLachlan song called
"Building a Mystery", quite appropriately so, I think.
********
Nobody
ever should have such power over people. Nonetheless, you do, and you wield it
effortlessly, charming and smooth-talking your way through the insanities of
war by collecting fragments of other people's sanity to patch up your own,
taking what you think you can get away with.
A
skill you must have picked up from my predecessor.
You
trapped me whole.
My
eyes first...my thoughts next...then my voice so that there wasn't a single
sound when, last but not least, my soul followed.
Where
it is going, I don't know, and you couldn't tell me if I asked you.
That
much at least I do know.
I'm
not blaming you, or anything, you've got to believe me.
It's
just…in some hollow space beneath my skin I feel something twisting, screaming
for it to stop.
For
'us' to stop.
I
didn't have it in me to stop you.
I
couldn't say the words he would say when you'd teeter too close to the edge.
I
couldn't give you what he would give you.
I couldn't
give up myself the way he could.
You
had to realize that I was…different. And yet…
On a
cold night, we took the last step, never thinking that it would mean…this much.
Treacherously
much.
Wish I
could have known the then-you. Before Korea, before the blood dyed you (you
died?) a permanent red (that why you wear that bathrobe? Because that's a red
you can slip out of at will). And before...him. Maybe…maybe I could have saved
you. Or even loved you. And maybe you could have loved me back.
We
might have loved each other.
You
without that blazing despair in your every kiss, the fierce trace of loathing
need you communicate with every touch.
And me
without my, well, surrender. Please don't call it pity. Please don't! It's all
I have to give, Hawk. This is all I am when I'm with you…
The
now-you is someone who wakes up screaming aloud, the sound a prayer from your
secret god to feed off of fears and hold back your tears.
FINIS