Post by Seek on May 29, 2011 7:01:45 GMT 10
Title: Stars
Rating: G
Word count: 413
Pairing: Clary/Mattes
Round/Fight: 4/A
Summary: Clary and Mattes watch the stars. Set in the DeadAlive universe, where Clary and Mattes are FBI agents. Based on an X-Files quote.
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It is a clear night. We’re far from heavily populated areas, and on a case, and yet at night, when the stars come out, I think we are seeing far more than we usually do in the thick cities where light pollution – where the neon of our own artificial day drowns out the quiet starlight.
Out here, there are more things in the water. More than what Mattes can see. I don’t talk about Them. Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m crazy, except my grandfather taught me to talk to Them, and what They would do, if you do it right. It’s always about a bargain. A deal. I think about Them in those terms. It makes it easier for me.
Mattes is more withdrawn than I’ve seen him. The news of his grandfather’s death has hit him hard. “You know,” he says tentatively, after a while. His voice is almost – almost on the verge of cracking. I don’t know what to say. I reach for his hand; I find the way his fingers wrap around mine almost natural. I squeeze it lightly. “I never stop to think…that the light is billions of years old by the time we see it. From the beginning of time right past us into the future. Nothing is ancient in the universe. But…” he murmurs, glancing at me, uncertain. “Maybe there are souls, Clary. Travelling through time as starlight, looking for homes.”
He wants so desperately to believe, to cling to old stories that his grandfather told him, to beliefs of some kind of spirits, some kind of spirituality. That the stones and the earth beneath our feet is alive. And maybe it is. If I can see Them and talk to Them, who’s to say there aren’t earth spirits, stone spirits, sky spirits?
At least that’s what Mattes would call them.
I find my voice. Gentle. That’s what Mattes needs right now. He doesn’t need Tough-As-Nails Clary – but he needs me to be strong. That’s what he’s looking for.
“Tell me,” I say quietly, “Tell me the stories your grandfather told you.”
All night through till the dawn, I am holding him. And he is speaking, almost-crying, telling me the old stories, the old tales in the oral tradition of his people. Keeping memory alive. And as I listen to Mattes recite the stories his grandfather has told him, in his soft, deep voice…
I look at the bright, shining stars, and I make a wish.
Rating: G
Word count: 413
Pairing: Clary/Mattes
Round/Fight: 4/A
Summary: Clary and Mattes watch the stars. Set in the DeadAlive universe, where Clary and Mattes are FBI agents. Based on an X-Files quote.
-
It is a clear night. We’re far from heavily populated areas, and on a case, and yet at night, when the stars come out, I think we are seeing far more than we usually do in the thick cities where light pollution – where the neon of our own artificial day drowns out the quiet starlight.
Out here, there are more things in the water. More than what Mattes can see. I don’t talk about Them. Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m crazy, except my grandfather taught me to talk to Them, and what They would do, if you do it right. It’s always about a bargain. A deal. I think about Them in those terms. It makes it easier for me.
Mattes is more withdrawn than I’ve seen him. The news of his grandfather’s death has hit him hard. “You know,” he says tentatively, after a while. His voice is almost – almost on the verge of cracking. I don’t know what to say. I reach for his hand; I find the way his fingers wrap around mine almost natural. I squeeze it lightly. “I never stop to think…that the light is billions of years old by the time we see it. From the beginning of time right past us into the future. Nothing is ancient in the universe. But…” he murmurs, glancing at me, uncertain. “Maybe there are souls, Clary. Travelling through time as starlight, looking for homes.”
He wants so desperately to believe, to cling to old stories that his grandfather told him, to beliefs of some kind of spirits, some kind of spirituality. That the stones and the earth beneath our feet is alive. And maybe it is. If I can see Them and talk to Them, who’s to say there aren’t earth spirits, stone spirits, sky spirits?
At least that’s what Mattes would call them.
I find my voice. Gentle. That’s what Mattes needs right now. He doesn’t need Tough-As-Nails Clary – but he needs me to be strong. That’s what he’s looking for.
“Tell me,” I say quietly, “Tell me the stories your grandfather told you.”
All night through till the dawn, I am holding him. And he is speaking, almost-crying, telling me the old stories, the old tales in the oral tradition of his people. Keeping memory alive. And as I listen to Mattes recite the stories his grandfather has told him, in his soft, deep voice…
I look at the bright, shining stars, and I make a wish.