Outer Space Jesus Negro Lady (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
not_acute) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cityarcade2013-01-05 05:29 pm
not_acute) wrote in cityarcade2013-01-05 05:29 pm
Entry tags:
Meme: Drabbles
Tag your characters into the meme, and leave each other either prompts or drabbles, as the mood moves you, of something that never happened between them in-game.
Drabbles can be as short as one sentence or as long as you feel like going on. Pups don't have to know each other in-game, and of course nothing counts in-game.
Drabbles can be as short as one sentence or as long as you feel like going on. Pups don't have to know each other in-game, and of course nothing counts in-game.
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Andrea thinks it's strange when he reaches out, fingers covered in ash and soot from that place. That other Darrow. It's caked under his nails, she notices, as he takes her hand in between both of his, like he's been digging for something, scraping through the destruction in the other version of their city. All of this she registers in a disconnected way, like something happening to someone else, because she's made it this far and nothing bad has happened. She's made it three years and everything is okay.
But it isn't.
"We, uh... we got separated," he tells her. "Then I was back here."
He's holding her hand, telling her Clementine is gone and all Andrea can think about is the ash on his hands, the way it's settled into the creases of his knuckles. There's a long scratch down the back of his hand, stretching from just under his ring finger all the way up his forearm. Something happened to him and she thinks she should care, but she can't feel anything.
"She's smart," he says. "She'll be okay."
Andrea yanks her hand back from between his and punches him almost in the same motion. "You were supposed to take care of her!" she shouts, but what she's really saying is I was supposed to take care of her.
Her hand is covered in ash and she scrubs it against her jeans as she turns away.
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So when her family showed up, he was naturally reluctant to have anything to do with them. Unfortunately, it was unavoidable. He found dick the most tolerable, would probably even say he liked him if Cass pressed him to admit it. Tim and Barbara weren't so bad and he'd honestly tried to like Barbara more than the others for Cass's sake.
The little annoying one he actively avoided. Not because he was so annoying you wanted to kill him, but Kaine didn't think he'd be a very good influence on the kid. "Hey look, you can kill criminals and have a clean conscience about it" wasn't the message they were trying to send Damian.
Bruce though, he actively hated. Actively. Things had gotten better though when Aidan realized that he really didn't give a shit about what the Batman thought about him. Why the hell should he care about a guy that was probably more messed up than him thought about him?
Even Kaine had to admit though that when the children came (and they just kept coming, why did they keep agreeing to have more?) the family was good to have around. Uncles Dick, Tim and Damian were good with the kids, Damian surprisingly so. Bruce were less so, if only because he had absolutely no experience with kids that age, taking care of them or being one.
And then there was Aunt May and Alfred, who were the ties that bound the families together and, surprising no one, found a love as strong as any of their "children" or grandchildren.
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Helen
Lucian
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First it's Dale, alive and mostly whole, only missing one leg instead of both. He smiles and he takes Andrea in his arms and Spike sits behind him on the couch, his expression unreadable as she looks at him from over Dale's shoulder.
He's polite and he smiles and shakes Dale's hand, but then he leaves and she doesn't see him again for several weeks. When he comes back, he has a petite brunette with him, his arm slung over her shoulder and Andrea's pretty sure she's supposed to make her jealous.
It doesn't work. It's Buffy who makes her jealous.
Six months after Dale disappears, Andrea goes to Spike's place only to find Buffy there. They'd talked about her plenty before Dale arrived and it startles Andrea into silence to see her there. Buffy seems about as startled and Spike doesn't look as pleased as Andrea thought he might. He isn't wearing that same smug grin he wore when he showed up at her apartment with the brunette and she realizes it's because this isn't to make her jealous.
He doesn't care to anymore.
When Buffy disappears, she thinks about going to him, but doesn't and he doesn't come to her.
She sees Spike on the street one evening, she's walking with Rick, his hand closed gently around hers. It's been months since she's seen him anywhere. She only knows he's still around because of Mike and she finds she's glad to see him, to know he's okay.
Rick stops, bends to press a kiss to her cheek before he steps into a coffee shop, leaving her on the street. The moment he's gone, she turns, because she won't see Spike approaching in the reflection, but she knows he is. She can feel him coming.
"Spike," she says, a warning in her tone and he smiles, shaking his head.
"Don't worry about me, pet," he answers. "Just wanted to come say hello. Meet the new fellow."
"Rick won't like you," she warns.
"And why's that?" he asks.
For a moment, Andrea doesn't answer, looking at Spike to see if he really doesn't know. She always thought he did, she always thought he knew it about her, but maybe he never did. Maybe she should have told him a long time ago, but the timing has just never quite worked out.
"Because I loved you," she says. "Because I moved on from him. With you."
Spike smiles again, but there's something sad in it as he takes a step away.
"Just checking," he says, then he's gone again, shifting through the crowd and Andrea realizes he's never said he loves her in return.
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At least it's something that NEVER happened?
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She is. For now.
They're older than Mack and Flo, but not by much, and it's easy to see why Neil suggests Andrea bring them over to play. When she arrives, she exchanges a look with Mike and keeps Ben on her lap the entire time. When Mack asks why he isn't playing, it's Ben who answers.
"Don't want to," he says.
But he's staring at her in a way Andrea doesn't like and so she makes an excuse for them all to go home.
Two weeks later, with Clementine still staying at Jesse's, Mike asks her what she's going to do.
"I don't know," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. She makes them sleep in separate rooms. She locks Ben in and her rifle never leaves her side. "He killed his brother, I found them, I found the body, I saw what he's capable of. But he's only five."
Mike nods, but she isn't sure he understands.
"How do you punish a five-year-old for a crime he hasn't committed yet?" she asks.
"How do you risk him killing Billy again?" Mike asks in return. "Or my daughters." There's a hardness in his voice she's never heard directed at her before and she doesn't like it, but she understands it. She also understands what Mike expects her to do.
She takes Ben to a doctor the next day, but he can't find anything wrong with the boy. Not when Ben smiles and talks and acts like any other five-year-old and Andrea tries to tell the doctor that he isn't normally like this, that he's displayed violent tendencies, but there's nothing of it there now.
She shows up at Mike's apartment with Ben in tow. He's staring at her blankly and she's holding his hand, probably too hard. She's scared all the time now, scared for Billy and for Mike's daughters and for Clementine and for herself.
"The doctor said he's fine," she says.
Mike glances down at Ben, who is staring back at him, eyes empty. "He's not fine," he says.
"I know," Andrea answers. "But I can't do it."
"I know," Mike says, looking at her steadily. "Neither can I."
Someone has to. That's what it comes down to. If no one does, then Ben is going to hurt someone, he's going to do it soon. She's already found the dead animals in the alley behind their apartment building and she's not willing to risk the lives of Mike's girls.
"Don't worry," Ben says from between them. "They'll come back. I won't hurt their brains."
Inside, Andrea screams at Mike to help her.
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In a more simple story he would be the warrior - though far too sardonic and occasionally even mean to be called a knight - and he would slay dragons. In that story, too, she would be the magician, the sorceress, weaving spells to dispatch their enemies. Together they would perform mighty deeds and lay the foundations of legend.
But it's not a simple story. He's definitely not a knight, and most of the time he's more a fighter than a warrior, and when he's not a fighter he's not much more than a survivor. And she's not a magician; since it happened she's barely touched her magics beyond what they need to stay alive, and even then he can see the fear in her eyes.
A week after, before things start really getting bad, he follows her up a mountain. She's silent and hollow-eyed and he doesn't try to pull her out of herself. What she needs, he suspects, is simply for him to be there.
At the top, on a rocky crag, the wind is chill and she pulls her traveling cloak tight around herself. He's left his own behind - possibly unwise - and he stands braced against the cold at her side, hand close to his sword, though he doesn't think anything will come at them. Not for the moment. Not here.
The lands stretched out beneath them are dying. Nearly overrun. Only days ago there would have been the scattered lights of the villages, solitary lights of outlying farms, and close to the other mountain that rises in the distance, the high glow and glitter of the city of Minarreth.
And above it, the Tower of the Third. Now dark. Darkness dwells within.
"They tricked me," she whispers. And she shakes her head. He knows without asking, without her saying, that she's denying it for an excuse.
He takes her hand. Like everything else here, it's cold.
"You'll get stronger. And you'll make them take it back."
She barks out a laugh. They both know it's foolishness. They can't stand against the Third, either of them, no matter how strong they become.
"Then we'll find a way to undo it ourselves."
"You can't undo something like this." She turns away and he sees tears painting her cheeks. If they stay up here that wetness might become frost on her skin. "C'mon. We should get moving."
On weary horses they ride away, the storm of the undead roaring at their heels.
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