Posting on behalf of
heliophile_oxon...
Unweaving the Warp
by heliophile
All day it rained. Easily enough to float the ark, the QE2, the Cutty Sark ... Days and days of this unending gloom and grey and grit – no light, no heat, no Doyle. Spiders – even they had fled their tattered webs. Gently does it, the Cow had said – but Doyle was in there, damn it to hell! But his cover was solid … wasn't it?
There! There in the doorway! A reassuring hand on Khoury's elbow. Adjusting his scarf – all well, then! And the rain poured down, and the sun had never seemed brighter.
All the Cow's Capris and all the Cow's men could never put these broken people together again ... Bodie smiled grimly as he passed a handcuffed Khoury still furiously protesting his innocence, his diplomatic immunity, his impeccable connections. Easily the slickest, smoothest, most repulsively self-satisfied bastard they'd ever done for people-trafficking. Give him a few days without embassy staff, though, and we'll see how he likes the spiders in our basement for a change … and we'll still be handling him infinitely more gently than those poor kids he was selling. Rather shoot the bastard – him and his blue-blood customers.
There had been spider's-webs of pale scars across dark skin. There had been eyes that would not meet his own, no matter how gently he spoke; there had been the terrified, forced smiles of women and children hurt – casually, carelessly, routinely hurt – for not smiling. How many hundred days might it take before any of these people could breathe easily again? But just the chance some might was worth it all. Doyle felt steeped in filth after two weeks' feigned indifference to them as a customer's go-between – but he knew he'd do it again, if he had to.
There wasn't enough whisky in a bottle – hell, there probably wasn't enough whisky in all the world – to put those two weeks behind him. Doyle set his glass aside; no point courting fluorescent green spiders and the DTs to no good purpose. There'd be days – and especially nights – of this to come. Thank fuck for Bodie. For the way Bodie would let him break; for the way he'd know to fuck him hard tonight, when nothing could go easily; for the way he'd know when Doyle was fit to cope with loving gently again at last.
*************
All day it rained. Gently, easily, almost more of a mist than proper rain; the air warm with summer promise and full of the rich sweetness of moist earth and the scents of innumerable flowers whose names neither of them knew. Tiny spiders silver-carpeted the grass with a blanket of dew-laden silk each morning – Doyle even sketched it – and they could eat well, drink deep, forget London for now and love as loudly as they liked. They didn't mention Khoury (whose repatriation flight had inexplicably diverted to very much the wrong country …) and the sun tomorrow would be brighter.

by heliophile
All day it rained. Easily enough to float the ark, the QE2, the Cutty Sark ... Days and days of this unending gloom and grey and grit – no light, no heat, no Doyle. Spiders – even they had fled their tattered webs. Gently does it, the Cow had said – but Doyle was in there, damn it to hell! But his cover was solid … wasn't it?
There! There in the doorway! A reassuring hand on Khoury's elbow. Adjusting his scarf – all well, then! And the rain poured down, and the sun had never seemed brighter.
All the Cow's Capris and all the Cow's men could never put these broken people together again ... Bodie smiled grimly as he passed a handcuffed Khoury still furiously protesting his innocence, his diplomatic immunity, his impeccable connections. Easily the slickest, smoothest, most repulsively self-satisfied bastard they'd ever done for people-trafficking. Give him a few days without embassy staff, though, and we'll see how he likes the spiders in our basement for a change … and we'll still be handling him infinitely more gently than those poor kids he was selling. Rather shoot the bastard – him and his blue-blood customers.
There had been spider's-webs of pale scars across dark skin. There had been eyes that would not meet his own, no matter how gently he spoke; there had been the terrified, forced smiles of women and children hurt – casually, carelessly, routinely hurt – for not smiling. How many hundred days might it take before any of these people could breathe easily again? But just the chance some might was worth it all. Doyle felt steeped in filth after two weeks' feigned indifference to them as a customer's go-between – but he knew he'd do it again, if he had to.
There wasn't enough whisky in a bottle – hell, there probably wasn't enough whisky in all the world – to put those two weeks behind him. Doyle set his glass aside; no point courting fluorescent green spiders and the DTs to no good purpose. There'd be days – and especially nights – of this to come. Thank fuck for Bodie. For the way Bodie would let him break; for the way he'd know to fuck him hard tonight, when nothing could go easily; for the way he'd know when Doyle was fit to cope with loving gently again at last.
All day it rained. Gently, easily, almost more of a mist than proper rain; the air warm with summer promise and full of the rich sweetness of moist earth and the scents of innumerable flowers whose names neither of them knew. Tiny spiders silver-carpeted the grass with a blanket of dew-laden silk each morning – Doyle even sketched it – and they could eat well, drink deep, forget London for now and love as loudly as they liked. They didn't mention Khoury (whose repatriation flight had inexplicably diverted to very much the wrong country …) and the sun tomorrow would be brighter.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-11 07:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-12-12 12:04 pm (UTC)(I think the spiders are my favourite too. They kind of grew on me, and wanted to stick around *g*)
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Date: 2014-12-11 08:02 pm (UTC)And I love - lovelovelove - this: Thank fuck for Bodie. For the way Bodie would let him break; for the way he'd know to fuck him hard tonight, when nothing could go easily; for the way he'd know when Doyle was fit to cope with loving gently again at last.
And all of the final drabble, with the elegaic nature at the start, and their escape from the trials of their days, and then the cynical mention of the plane diversion, and how, really, that is what they need to hear.
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Date: 2014-12-12 12:08 pm (UTC)Glad you like that bit; I hope/think it might be in character for them, being the people they are and dealing with the appalling things they have to deal with ...
Thank you so much! :-)
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Date: 2014-12-11 08:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-12-12 12:19 pm (UTC)I think they have to deal with some of the worst of humanity, and there's nothing worse than the rich and powerful abusing their power.
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Date: 2014-12-11 08:21 pm (UTC)It's gorgeous, thank you - so full of gentle images and rain and glimpses of the whole... beautiful! Thank you again.
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Date: 2014-12-12 12:20 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-12-12 12:21 pm (UTC)Thank you - I'm very glad you liked it!
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Date: 2014-12-12 10:38 am (UTC)I especially like the second last one for Doyle's palpable sense of desperation and the last one for the beautiful picture of renewal.
Well done! ..and Happy Holidays.
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Date: 2014-12-12 12:27 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it - thank you for the comment, and happy holidays to you too!
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Date: 2014-12-12 12:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-12-12 09:26 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you like that ending *g* - and I hope you get those silver silk carpets springing up in the fields all around, once winter is over!
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Date: 2014-12-18 07:17 pm (UTC)You included the drabble words very skilfully, I didn't even realise I'd read them in most instances until I went back and looked for them!
Thank you!
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Date: 2014-12-22 04:06 am (UTC)