[personal profile] lilychick
[Moving over everything from the CJB site before Geocities comes down.
It seemed like a waste to put all of these in separate posts, so I'm going to see if I can throw them all together, even though this'll totally mess up the nice order I had them in on the original page. Sigh. I'm including the opening notes that each one had on the ficlet page, though.]

[Originally posted for [livejournal.com profile] 15minuteficlets. Takes place pre-The Making of a SuperTeam, making reference to events in All In The Family.]

Shane figures that it probably takes a while to get reaccustomed to the outside world, after all the time in that...place. He still has dreams about the claustrophobic darkness of it, and he was only there for twenty minutes at the most.

So Shane can forgive a bit of...bizarre behavior now and then.

"He doesn't want to talk to *you*!" The shouts can be heard from two rooms away. "I think he's made that *clear*, don't you?"

Because...it's probably normal to take a while, remember how the world works. How people interact. And all that.

"FRIEND? You think you know what that *means*?"

And there's a certain level of devotion that can be expected during the readjustment process. It's only natural, especially in the line of work they're in, for someone to get a little...*attached* to their savior.

"It means you don't leave them behind!"

That's all that's behind it, of course. Shane is fully aware of *that*.

The receiver of the phone is slammed so hard that he hears the cradle crash to the ground, making a "clang" as the bell is jarred.

Rodney walks in a minute later, looking none the worse for wear. "Lucas called," he says, calmly.

Shane nods, and grins. "Thanks for that."

"Don't mention it."

Everyone needs to be saved now and then.


(The word was salvation.)

[Originally posted for [livejournal.com profile] 15minuteficlets. Lily's POV. Falls between Sunshine In A Bag and Deja Vu All Over Again.]

Every night, for weeks now, he waits until he thinks I'm sleeping, slides slowly out of the bed, and tiptoes away silently. I wait a few minutes, blinking eyes blankly at the clock to keep track, and then I follow him.

Sometimes he's just gone into the kitchen, and I have to double back before he sees me. Sometimes he heads to the couch, and pretends to watch TV -- he either flicks from channel to channel, not really seeing what is on, or he leaves on something completely random, and stares absentmindedly into space, while the light flickers off his face.

Sometimes he gets in the elevator and rides it all the way up to the roof. It took me a few days to figure this out, since I didn't know the elevator *went* to the roof, but Shane happened to mention it one day and I put two and two together. The next day I followed Chris up, thinking for certain that he would *notice* when I suddenly appeared behind him atop the building, but he didn't. He just kept leaning over the ledge, just looking out at what we could see of the city at night, occasionally glancing down at the odd person who would pass here and there.

And I can't talk to him about this, that's what gets me. I know what he's thinking about. He's thinking about *her*. He spends more time thinking about the one that got away than about the one who's *here*. The one who knows when he's not sleeping, the one who cares enough to lurk in shadows and worry.

And I *can't* talk to him about it. I just know that he's going to say things I don't want to hear, things about how it's *different*, it's something that's in the past, it's something that made him who he is, and there isn't any comparison, really. He won't mean it the way I want him to mean it. I want a reason, I want to know why I'm not more important, and I know that makes me selfish but I want to be the one he's thinking about. Because for the first time in my life, he's the only one that *I'm* thinking about.


(The word was loss.)

[Completely random 100-word drabble. Post-A Very SHUy Christmas.]

Lily grinned. "Hey, Kurt, how long has it been?"

"Since Christmas," he answered warily.

"Really? It's been that long? Wow, I guess it has." She paused, glancing him up and down. "You look different," she mused.

Kurt stared at her in disbelief. "I have no freakin hair!" he yelled.

"No," Lily said, thoughtfully. "That's not it."

He stopped. "It's not?"

She rubbed her chin, and then snapped her fingers. "Your crown!" she cried. "What happened to it?"

"Oh!" He blinked in surprise, and ran a hand over his scalp.

"...I can't wear it anymore," he said, sheepishly. "It gets stuck."

[Originally posted for [livejournal.com profile] 15minuteficlets. Has no real canon time to speak of, but is probably post Til Death Do Us Part.]

When people ask -- and it has happened, though only once or twice -- Lindsey tells them that he doesn't believe in anything. It's just easier, tends to cut the conversation short.

After all, it's usually not worth the effort to explain how a good little Irish Catholic boy gets into the business of world domination.

Sometimes, he thinks Faith would understand. He's read the file, of course, knows her background, knows the path that she chose in spite of it. She would understand the questions, all the poisonous "if"s that he's always found everywhere he looks.

Then he remembers that she's the one fighting on the side of good, surrounded by a surrogate family, working towards being a psychologically sound member of the community, while he's the doublecrossing exile left alone with his mechanical hand.

Which is when he decides he'd rather not try to talk to Faith about it.

He paces the alley behind the church, thinking that this was a stupid idea to begin with. There's always a point where you have to admit you're too far gone.

"Lindsey?" A tentative voice bounces off the stones. "Are you back there?"

He sees the blonde hair first, ironically catching the sunlight like a halo -- then the formfitting leather, in a shade like sacramental wine -- then the face, a cautious, alert expression transforming into a smirk when she catches his eye.

"There you are," Lily says. "I was afraid I was too late."


(The word was salvation.)

[Written for [livejournal.com profile] 15minuteficlets, but never before posted. (You lucky people you.) In ten minutes, actually -- the only time I've ever been *under* time limit, but, well, it's really short. No set time period, although probably after Til Death Do Us Part.]

"I'm *tired* of this," Shane moaned.

Lily stroked his hair. "Of what, sweetie?"

"Of always having to be *good*. No, not that --" He paused; took a deep, gulping breath. "Better than good. Someone to look *up* to. Like Mo-- like...Linda." He rubbed his eyes. "Where you know not everyone is going to be perfect, and you try to do it *for* them."

"No one said you have to be perfect, Shane," she murmured.

"It's just..." He sniffled. "I've spent *years*, Lily. *Years* thinking, this will be the day he comes out of it. This is the day he comes back to me, and asks for forgiveness. And because it's the right thing to do, because it's what *she* would do...I forgive him."

He paused. "I don't want to forgive him anymore," Shane said, a hardness at the core of his voice. "Now I want him to *pay* for everything. For all the -- for everything he put me through. He *knew* he was doing it. He *had* to know. I want him to suffer like I did." He turned pained eyes to hers. "But that's not very heroic, is it?"

"No, Shane," Lily sighed, drawing him into her arms. "It's human."


(The word, of course, was forgiveness.)



June 2009

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