Post by Seek on Oct 30, 2011 21:27:08 GMT 10
Title: Fix You
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #54 Lost
Summary: Clary in the aftermath of the events in Mastiff. Spoilers for Mastiff.
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Lost
At night, their house is haunted.
Clary is a silent presence that ghosts from their bed, stares out of the shutters into space. Tomlan is a lucky man. He’s seen the softer side of Clary Goodwin, the side Puppies will swear doesn’t exist.
He’s never seen this sort of emptiness reflected in her eyes.
He kisses her, and she allows herself to be led back to their bed.
Found
One day, an old ghost finds its way back to their house.
He is older, more ragged, and carries himself with an air of terrible weariness.
She touches his shoulder.
He is alive.
“Where were you, you sarden fool?” she snaps. Grief gives her voice a sharp edge it should not possess.
Exhausted gives him a terrible, grim aspect. “Tied up in a hessian sack weighted with stone and left to drown in a marsh. They should have broken my legs.”
“But Beka—” her mouth says. Fool. She remembers nights on patrol, him speaking of the hill-stories his grandfather has told him. Stories of men and women who have found their way home by earth and sky. The Cat will guide you home.
You could at least say ‘thank you’, an imperious voice says. She glances down. Pounce washes himself with an air of distinct self-satisfaction. For what it’s worth, he didn’t betray them. They knew that, and so they ambushed him. Tried to drown him.
“Tried?” he asks, lips twisting wryly.
They should have known better than to drown you in earth, the cat says. It gets up and stretches, purring as he bends down to scratch it. He is painfully thin, she realises. Gaunt. Hollowed-out.
He raises an eyebrow. “Should have known better, hestaka?”
He was in a dark place, Pounce says, smugly. Just needed a little bit of guidance to get home.
She looks up. It is him. She’s known that already. The events of the past months, the need to stay strong—all of these come crashing in, and his thumbs slip beneath her eyelids as she cracks, just a little, hands cupping her cheeks.
“I’m back,” he says, gently. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
Purring with satisfaction, the cat slips away, into a patch of shadow, and then it vanishes.
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #54 Lost
Summary: Clary in the aftermath of the events in Mastiff. Spoilers for Mastiff.
-
Lost
At night, their house is haunted.
Clary is a silent presence that ghosts from their bed, stares out of the shutters into space. Tomlan is a lucky man. He’s seen the softer side of Clary Goodwin, the side Puppies will swear doesn’t exist.
He’s never seen this sort of emptiness reflected in her eyes.
He kisses her, and she allows herself to be led back to their bed.
Found
One day, an old ghost finds its way back to their house.
He is older, more ragged, and carries himself with an air of terrible weariness.
She touches his shoulder.
He is alive.
“Where were you, you sarden fool?” she snaps. Grief gives her voice a sharp edge it should not possess.
Exhausted gives him a terrible, grim aspect. “Tied up in a hessian sack weighted with stone and left to drown in a marsh. They should have broken my legs.”
“But Beka—” her mouth says. Fool. She remembers nights on patrol, him speaking of the hill-stories his grandfather has told him. Stories of men and women who have found their way home by earth and sky. The Cat will guide you home.
You could at least say ‘thank you’, an imperious voice says. She glances down. Pounce washes himself with an air of distinct self-satisfaction. For what it’s worth, he didn’t betray them. They knew that, and so they ambushed him. Tried to drown him.
“Tried?” he asks, lips twisting wryly.
They should have known better than to drown you in earth, the cat says. It gets up and stretches, purring as he bends down to scratch it. He is painfully thin, she realises. Gaunt. Hollowed-out.
He raises an eyebrow. “Should have known better, hestaka?”
He was in a dark place, Pounce says, smugly. Just needed a little bit of guidance to get home.
She looks up. It is him. She’s known that already. The events of the past months, the need to stay strong—all of these come crashing in, and his thumbs slip beneath her eyelids as she cracks, just a little, hands cupping her cheeks.
“I’m back,” he says, gently. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
Purring with satisfaction, the cat slips away, into a patch of shadow, and then it vanishes.
