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Chaos fic dump

August 24th, 2013 (08:57 pm)
quixotic
Tags: , ,

feeling: quixotic

I have way too much random fic, so I'm posting a bunch of short ones at once here.

Title:
Fire and Ice

Disclaimer: I do not own Chaos.

A/N: Random h/c ficlet, beta’ed by sockie1000.

Summary: Ice is perfect preservation. Fire is absolute destruction. The end is the same.



-o-

Once, early on in his career with the ODS, Billy had been stranded in Siberia. It had all seemed rather cliche, being trapped in a snowstorm and whatnot. He'd been beaten before being dumped, so he was still fuzzy on how and why he'd ended up so far out, but he could still remember the deep, encompassing cold, seeping down into his very marrow and freezing him to the core. It had been slow and tedious, and he'd thought to himself it was the very worst way to die.

Now, with flames pressing in on every side, Billy's not so sure.

There are similarities in the tales, he reckons. This time, he only has a hazy recollection of sweeping their asset's house before turning around and having something heavy land on his head. When he awoke, smoke had burned in his lungs and he'd had to roll away from the flames that had started to engulf the walls.

He'd been on his feet in an instant, unsteady and woozy -- and already too late. Stumbling into the hall, he'd barely ducked back before the ceiling collapsed. The thick smoke had pressed him back to the room where he groped blindly for a window that simply wasn't there.

He's trapped.

He's trapped in a burning building.

He's trapped in a burning building and he's going to die.

Tears sting in his eyes, and Billy doesn't know if it's the acrid smoke or the sudden realization that sends terror through him. The orange-yellow glow of the fire is almost obscenely bright but the thickness of the smoke is cloying as it closes in on him. He gasps, barely remembering to keep low to the ground as he tries in vain to breathe through his sleeve.

It doesn't work.

His head is spinning; his limbs feel listless. He remembers this, too. The sweet allure of sleep, if he just closes his eyes things will be better.

It's a lie, of course. The smoke will coat his airways and choke his lungs. He'll die gasping as the fire consumes the last of the air, leaving him spent and wasted. His body will be burned, charred beyond all recognition.

Ice is perfect preservation.

Fire is absolute destruction.

The end is the same.

Billy sinks all the way to the floor, blinking lazily up now. The fire has spread across the ceiling, embers falling all around him. The wood creaks and the house seems to shift.

The end is the same.

Maybe this is just the final test. Fire is used to purify; fire is a means to refine. Silver can be burned out of rock, gleaming and new.

With Billy, though, there's nothing left to refine. The purification will consume every last inch of him, eating away his flesh and consuming his soul.

The end is the same.

And Billy's eyes close.

-o-

In Siberia, Billy had held out all night, eyes slipping shut when the dawn broke and the promise of rescue was imminent. His team had found him, almost dead and hypothermic, and saved his life. He awoke after two days, and found himself still unthawing, trusting his team for the first time since he'd arrived in the United States no more than a year ago.

This time, Billy wakes up with a tube down his throat. He convulses, eyes still burning and his chest tight, until someone holds him down, steady hands on his shoulders and eyes looking right at him.

"Easy," Michael says, and he looks as relieved as he does scared. "The tube's helping you breathe. You've got a pretty bad case of smoke inhalation."

Billy's forehead creases.

Michael eases back just slightly. "You almost got yourself burned alive."

It goes against his instincts to lie still, but the truth is, he doesn't have much strength to fight.

Michael's grip relaxes but his hands don't move. "Rick found a back staircase, and Casey went in and broke through a few walls. He dragged you back out within two minutes -- didn't even take a breath."

Billy's eyes widen.

"He's fine," Michael assures him. "His coat was singed, but since he literally leapt through flames, I think that's pretty good."

It's a bit surreal to hear. A bit overwhelming in truth. That his team found him; that they risked everything to find him; that they never gave up on him --

Even when he'd given up on himself.

His eyes are wet, and his chest heaves a little.

"Hey," Michael says, fingers tightening again. "Don't worry about it."

Billy wants to tell him how sorry he is, how he wasn't worth it.

"And don't even start," Michael tells him, matter of fact. "You should know us better than that by now. We don't leave our own behind."

It's not a question of worth; it's a question of friendship. In the refining fire, even if Billy's all but burned up, there is still something that stands -- his team. Not perfect, but unbroken. If Billy's not worth it, then who they are together always will be.

Consciousness ebbing, Billy hold Michael's gaze one more moment, nodding slightly.

Michael smiles. "Anytime," he says.

The darkness beckons him, and Billy feels himself slipping. Fire or ice or anything in between, the ending is the same -- with his team.





Title:
Texting Under the Influence

Disclaimer: I do not own Chaos.

A/N: More silly h/c. Beta by sockie1000.

Summary: If Billy's drunk and texting Michael, then he's really drunk.



-o-

Michael gets the text at 1 AM.

Corner Pub. ASAP.

He frowns, and considers ignoring it. It's 1 AM, and a bar is hardly a place for some kind of national emergency. Especially since it's from Billy.

Billy is rarely up to anything good at 1 AM and he rarely does anything productive while in a bar. He knows for a fact that Billy's not working any side missions right now, and while it's possible that he might meet an asset in a bar at 1 AM, Michael deems it highly unlikely given Billy's history.

Usually, if Billy's in a bar, he's drinking.

If Billy's drinking at 1 AM, he's probably drunk.

If Billy's drunk and texting Michael, then he's really drunk.

Leaving him there would serve him right, but...

But Michael can't leave him there. If Billy is drunk, then he could be compromised. And even if there's no national security risks in a local bar at 1 AM, there are plenty of other ways for an intoxicated Scotsman to get into trouble. The last thing he needs is to explain to Higgins why one of his operatives is out on bail for being drunk and disorderly.

Which means...

Michael groans and gets out of bed.

-o-

Michael has been to this bar before -- it's one of Billy's favorites. It has little to do with the quality -- the place is a dump -- but much more with proximity. It is the closest bar to Billy's motel room, and Billy, as it turns out, is excessively lazy.

The drive is quick at 1 AM, and Michael is thinking of ways punish Billy for this offense of common sense and decency when he rounds the corner and has his worst fears confirmed.

Police lights. And an ambulance.

Michael groans again. He should have stayed in bed.

-o-

Parking down the street, Michael gets out. The cool early morning air has his adrenaline pumping as he jogs down the street. There's a small crowd of witnesses, and someone is being asked to walk in a straight line. Michael scans the crowd, looking for the familiar face, and comes up short.

A cop stops him. "Hey, buddy. Can't go any further."

Michael frowns and strains to look around him. "I have a friend--"

"Yeah, well, I've got a crime scene," the cop says.

It's a frustratingly valid answer. Michael has seen and done more than this guy ever will, but as a CIA officer, Michael has no standing on American soil. He's a civilian.

"I know that," Michael says, trying not to sound like he was annoyed as he was. "But I was just looking for--"

Then, he hears a familiar yelp. Scottish and pained. Michael looks around the crowd, even peaks in the back of a police cruiser before his eyes settle on the ambulance.

Michael's stomach drops when he sees Billy, strapped to a stretcher.

This time when the cop tries to stop him, Michael pushes past him and doesn't look back.

-o-

Billy's gurney is being wheeled to the ambulance, and at first, all Michael can see is the medical equipment and blood. Billy's shirt is gone, and there are splotches of red that glint in the flashing police lights.

"Billy," Michael says, standing next to one of the medics. "Is he--?"

"Conscious, yes," the first medics says.

"Very drunk, yes," the second medic adds.

On the gurney, Billy's neck is strapped down to a neck brace but he still grins when he sees Michael. "Michael!"

The tension unfurls in Michael's chest. Up close, the damage isn't that bad. Billy's got a gash along his rib cage, which is seeping blood, but it's not deep. It'll need a few stitches, but it's not the worst Billy has had. He's got a nasty black eye, though, and half of his hair is matted with blood.

"What happened?" he asks.

Billy looks at him earnestly. "Did you get my text?"

"Yeah," Michael says. "But you didn't tell me what happened."

"Well, you know how I said ASAP?" Billy asks.

"Yeah," Michael replies.

"Apparently you weren't quite fast enough," Billy tells him seriously.

Michael rolls his eyes and looks at the medic. "He didn't start a fight, did he?"

The first medic shrugs. "Beats me."

The second shakes his head. "Cops got the guy who started it in the back of the car," he says. "Apparently the dude has a list of priors. Your friend here may be drunk out of his mind, but he stopped something far worse by all accounts."

As if on cue, there's another shriek -- more feminine this time -- and Michael barely has time to look up when he's being flung out of the way and a well-endowed blonde is throwing herself on top of Billy's gurney.

"Oh, no," she sobs. "You can't die!"

The medic tries to pry her off. "He's going to be fine," he says.

She sobs again. "He saved my life!" she says.

Michael took her by the arm. "What do you mean?"

She turns and looks at Michael tearfully. "My boyfriend," she says. She sniffles and wails again. "It was all my fault! He was going to kill everyone!"

"Now, now," Billy says from the gurney. "Georgia--"

"Gina," she corrects.

"Georgia is better," Billy says. "But at any rate, he was only going to seriously maim a few people. And he had terrible aim."

"But you're bleeding," she says, reaching over to stroke Billy's face. "How can I make it up to you?"

Billy smiles. "That's not necessary--"

She bends over and kisses him.

Billy grins wider. "I'm sure we'll work something out."

At this point, Michael has seen enough -- and so has the medics.

"Okay, we're moving," the first says, moving the girl out of the way as the second pushes Billy's gurney to the ambulance.

"Call me!" Gina calls.

The first medic rolls his eyes and moves to the front of the rig.

The second looks at Michael. "You coming?"

"Yeah, sure," Michael says, climbing in.

"I'll just be a minute to get our things," the second says.

In the ambulance, Michael settles in the seat above Billy's head. "A bar fight?"

Billy hums, closing his eyes. "You saw the lovely Gina."

Michael smirks. "Georgia, you mean?" he says. He reaches out, jostling Billy. "And I don't think you're supposed to sleep."

Billy opens his eyes. "Head injury isn't so bad," he says.

Michael tilts his head to look at it. "It's not so good either," he comments. "What were you thinking?"

Billy meets his gaze, and he's surprisingly sober. Or really, not so surprising. Billy can hold his liquor better than most men, and Michael's picked him up off the floor before, but not that often and not without good reason.

No, the truth is, Billy texts him at 1 AM not because he's too drunk to get home but because he's lonely. He's on his own and he needs backup. Emotionally and physically. Billy doesn't have anyone else. There's no one to miss him at 1 AM in a lonely bar. As much as Michael complains, he'll come every time.

Billy smiles slightly. "Gina's boyfriend is Russian," he says.

Michael shrugs. "So?"

"So," Billy says. "Russian mafia. Gina has dated all of them."

"And you know this how?" Michael asks.

Billy gives him a plaintive look.

Michael scoffs. "So you did pick the fight," he realizes.

Billy hums again, blinking lazily. "And gained the loyalty of a potential informant for years to come," he says. He looks at Michael crookedly. "You said you needed an in on the Lenkov case."

For a second, Michael gapes. "You're serious," he says.

Billy lifts one shoulder minutely. "You don't think I'd text you at 1 AM for no reason, do you?"

Michael chuckles, patting Billy on the arm. "I guess not," he says. "You did make me get up at 1 AM, though."

Billy snorts. "And I may have solved your case for you," he says. "I think we may be even."

That's when the medic returns. "Okay," he says, closing the doors behind you. "You two ready to go?"

"You bet," Billy says, his words slurring again.

Michael grins. "Yeah," he says. "I think we're good."





Title:
Choked

Disclaimer: I do not own Chaos.

A/N: Pointless, really short h/c. With beta thanks to sockie1000.

Summary: Billy chokes. Fortunately, he’s the only one.



-o-

Billy's throat is red and swollen. The bruising is colorful now, mottled and vivid as he swallows convulsively and with obvious pain.

He doesn't remember much. He had seen the attacker, but he could still feel the sudden pressure on his windpipe, bearing down and stealing his breath as he flailed before his consciousness ebbed...

And he'd woken up in the hospital, with an angry nurse yelling at him in Italian. Billy had tried to speak, but had rasped instead, nearly choking all over again.

The doctor said he was lucky -- no permanent damage. It'll take a few days for the swelling to abate, but his airway is miraculously uncompromised, which is why he's set to sign out AMA and get back to the mission.

Rick's still there -- Billy realizes he has been all along. "You sure you're good to go?"

Billy makes a face. "Casey'll think it's an improvement," he says hoarsely, trying not to wince.

Rick blanches. "I know, but...you were choked," he says in futility. "If I hadn't shown up..."

"Indeed," Billy says, the words grating in his strained vocal cords. "I do remember choking."

And straining and gagging and dying...

Billy doesn't think it. Instead he lifts a finger, pointing at Rick with resolve. "I choked," he says, looking for his voice and finding enough to count as he holds Rick's gaze. "But you didn't."





Title:
Long Walk, Short Pier

Disclaimer: I do not own Chaos.

A/N: With thanks to sockie1000. Same old, same old here.

Summary: You took a long walk off a short pier. That's pretty stupid, even for you.



-o-

Casey swam, pushing through the murky water with every ounce of strength he had. His lungs burned and his vision was blurred, but he kicked, diving deeper until he saw it--

The vehicle was submerged, resting at the bottom. Casey grappled with the door, relieved to have it open as he yanked.

Inside, he moved to the figure, groping blindly until he found the seatbelt. It unlatched, and Casey wrapped his arms around the unmoving body, clamping it to himself as he pushed off the car and rocketed back to the surface.

He came out of the water with a gasp, but barely noticed how greedily his lungs gulped the air. For a moment, he stole a look at Billy, splayed limply in his arms, head lolled.

Lips blue.

Not breathing.

Growling, Casey swims, rough, jagged strokes propelling him to the pier. He reaches up with one hand when he gets there, relying on his impressive upper body strength to lift himself out before hauling Billy up.

The Scot hits the wood heavily, limbs slapping hard and lifeless. His head rolls to the side, and Casey moves to Billy's head, tilting his head up properly and checking for breath.

When there's none, he presses two fingers into Billy's throat. When there’s only stillness, he repositions himself and starts to pump.

His movements are harsh and mechanical, and he keeps count through gritted teeth until he pauses just long enough to breathe for Billy.

He keeps going.

Again.

Again.

Then, Billy jerks. He splutters, coughing and choking, and Casey rolls him on his side. There's relief, heady and overwhelming, and Casey is almost grateful that Billy needs another few moments before his eyes open and he looks at Casey.

By this time, Casey's relief has given way to gruff pragmatism.

"What were you thinking?" he asks.

Billy's brow wrinkles. "Pardon?"

"You took a long walk off a short pier," Casey snaps. "Literally. That's pretty stupid, even for you."

Billy looks distressed; then apologetic. "If it helps, I thought it was a longer pier."

"So you're not stupid, you just lack all depth perception?" Casey asks.

"The lesser of two evils," Billy wheezes, pausing to hack more water out of his lungs.

Casey sighs. "I can't let you go anywhere alone."

Billy's coughs taper off, and this time he grins. "You never do," he says.

Casey scoffs, rolling his eyes as he hefts Billy up. "Don't remind me."





Title:
Slipping

Disclaimer: I do not own Chaos.

A/N: More of the same! sockie1000 is very nice to beta all these for me :) This one has a bit more ambiguous and angsty slant on h/c.

Summary: It’s slipping away.



-o-

Michael swears. When the feed died, he’d known it was bad, but he hadn’t known how bad. He had hoped, of course...

The ODS isn’t big into hope, though.

And this is why.

Billy is right where Michael left him, at the drop site. But the mark is long gone, and Billy’s not leaning up against the wall or poking curiously by the nearby trashbins in total boredom.

No, Billy’s sprawled on the ground.

Moving fast, he makes it to Billy’s side, going to the ground while trying his best not to panic.

For his part, Billy’s eyes are open, and he’s panting, chest rising and falling quickly as the crimson stain spreads steadily across his chest.

Michael swallows hard, shrugging out of his jacket and starting to ball it up as he presses it down on the gunshot wound to Billy’s chest. “Hey,” he says. “What happened?”

Billy’s eyes dart jerkily over to him, and it seems to take the Scot a moment to focus. “I...,” he begins, but then chokes and coughs, blood seeping between his teeth. He shudders. “I’m slipping.”

Michael presses hard, working his phone out of his pocket with his other hand. “What?”

Billy whimpers, trying to squirm away from Michael’s touch, but Michael refuses to yield. “Thought I could...talk them out of it,” Billy says haltingly as he starts to tremble in earnest.

Michael texts the 911 signal to Casey with one hand, glancing nervously back toward Billy. “They’re ruthless criminals, Billy,” Michael tells him. “We knew going in that we might be compromised before we even made contact.”

Billy gasps a little, fresh blood leaking out of his mouth. “Just needed a little...finesse,” he says.

“No, it needed a better plan,” Michael tells him, reading Casey’s quick reply: ambu in 10. He looks to Billy again, who looks terrifyingly pale on the dark cement, the blood starting to puddle on the ground. His stomach churns, and he grits his teeth. “You’re not the one who’s slipping, Billy. It’s just as much my fault.”

Because he hadn’t come up with something better. Because he’d sent Billy in with nothing more than his wits and charming facade. Because he’d spread his men too thin and taken a risky mission with no backup contingencies. Because he’s known this could happen from the very start and didn’t do anything to stop it.

“You trusted...me,” Billy says, eyes starting to blink heavily.

Michael jostles him. “And you trusted me,” he says, a little louder now, using his other hand to reach down and tap Billy’s cheek.

Billy’s head lolls a bit, his eyes going distant.

“Hey,” Michael says, gripping Billy’s chin. “Stay with me.”

But Billy’s slipping again, only this time further away from Michael. Further away all together.

“Billy,” he says again, voice almost breaking on the name. “Stay with me. Just a little longer now.”

But Billy’s eyes drift shut and his body shudders even as the heartbeat beneath Michael clenched hand starts to slip and fade.

It’s slipping away, Michael knows. It has been since the start of the mission, for years before that. It slips away a little more each mission when they’re just not as sharp, just not as quick, just not as good. It’s imperceptible one mission at a time, but after all these years, Michael wonders if they’ve been in the game too long.

If this is the time it costs them everything.

Michael doesn’t know, and he’s not ready to find out. So he holds on, arms rigid and throat tight, feeling the sluggish heartbeat stutter as he refuses to let go.

Comments

Posted by: kristen_mara (kristen_mara)
Posted at: August 25th, 2013 10:53 am (UTC)
Hair!


Wow, that's a lot of variety of BillyTorture! *G* Like a box of chocolates.

**Ice is perfect preservation. Fire is absolute destruction. The end is the same.**

That reminds me of the ‘Fire and Ice’ poem by Robert Frost.

Awwww for Michael and Casey's relief, and Casey's rescue dash in the fire one - I've heard that lifeguards can hold their breath for a few mins at a time, so Casey having that talent doesn't surprise me. And he broke down walls too, yay!

**Then, he hears a familiar yelp. Scottish and pained.**

LOL - that's a given (and very very familiar) when you're writing the fic!

Love Rick and Billy bonding, and how Billy manages to save the girl and others AND get an informant at the same time


Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: September 10th, 2013 12:29 am (UTC)
billy approves

The Fire and Ice poem definitely inspired some of that one :)

And I write so much Billy whump that it's a bit silly. Thank you for reading!

Posted by: sophie_deangirl (sophie_deangirl)
Posted at: August 26th, 2013 03:13 am (UTC)

Oh yay! Like a collection of short stories. I LOVE IT! I'll review per story otherwise LJ will choke if I do one long one.

Fire and Ice:

As always, I love how you do Billy h/c and the confirmation that he's worth rescuing. Sigh...lovely.

Fave parts:

Maybe this is just the final test. Fire is used to purify; fire is a means to refine. Silver can be burned out of rock, gleaming and new.

With Billy, though, there's nothing left to refine. The purification will consume every last inch of him, eating away his flesh and consuming his soul.

--Poor Billy!

In Siberia, Billy had held out all night, eyes slipping shut when the dawn broke and the promise of rescue was imminent. His team had found him, almost dead and hypothermic, and saved his life. He awoke after two days, and found himself still unthawing, trusting his team for the first time since he'd arrived in the United States no more than a year ago.

--So wonderful! I like that this rescue gives context for Billy's devotion to his team.

This time, Billy wakes up with a tube down his throat. He convulses, eyes still burning and his chest tight, until someone holds him down, steady hands on his shoulders and eyes looking right at him.

"Easy," Michael says, and he looks as relieved as he does scared. "The tube's helping you breathe. You've got a pretty bad case of smoke inhalation."

Billy's forehead creases.

Michael eases back just slightly. "You almost got yourself burned alive."


"He's fine," Michael assures him. "His coat was singed, but since he literally leapt through flames, I think that's pretty good."

It's a bit surreal to hear. A bit overwhelming in truth. That his team found him; that they risked everything to find him; that they never gave up on him --

Even when he'd given up on himself.

His eyes are wet, and his chest heaves a little.

"Hey," Michael says, fingers tightening again. "Don't worry about it."

Billy wants to tell him how sorry he is, how he wasn't worth it.

"And don't even start," Michael tells him, matter of fact. "You should know us better than that by now. We don't leave our own behind."

--I ADORE how Michael reads Billy and assures him with a gentle scolding.


Edited at 2013-08-26 03:16 am (UTC)

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: September 10th, 2013 12:30 am (UTC)
billy likes

I love the idea of Michael being somewhat paternal toward his team, which is one reason I like writing Michael POVs when Billy is hurt. It's just so great to bring out that dynamic.

Thanks :)

Posted by: sophie_deangirl (sophie_deangirl)
Posted at: August 26th, 2013 03:54 am (UTC)

Texting Under the Influence:

This is a nice take on texting and Billy heroics. I loved it.

Fave parts:


The second shakes his head. "Cops got the guy who started it in the back of the car," he says. "Apparently the dude has a list of priors. Your friend here may be drunk out of his mind, but he stopped something far worse by all accounts."

--ah, hints of heroism. I love that!


She sobs again. "He saved my life!" she says.

--Hee! Just tickled by this.

No, the truth is, Billy texts him at 1 AM not because he's too drunk to get home but because he's lonely. He's on his own and he needs backup. Emotionally and physically. Billy doesn't have anyone else. There's no one to miss him at 1 AM in a lonely bar. As much as Michael complains, he'll come every time.

--awww!

For a second, Michael gapes. "You're serious," he says.

Billy lifts one shoulder minutely. "You don't think I'd text you at 1 AM for no reason, do you?"

Michael chuckles, patting Billy on the arm. "I guess not," he says. "You did make me get up at 1 AM, though."

Billy snorts. "And I may have solved your case for you," he says. "I think we may be even."

-- I LOVE the idea that Michael's preconceptions about Billy weren't totally true and that Billy was playing his charms to effective results.


Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: September 10th, 2013 12:31 am (UTC)
billy content

Heh, Michael is a paranoid bastard but even he gets it wrong sometimes in the middle of the night :)

Thanks!

Posted by: sophie_deangirl (sophie_deangirl)
Posted at: August 26th, 2013 04:05 am (UTC)

Choked

Simple, short and sweet, but lovely nonetheless.

Fave Parts:

Rick's still there -- Billy realizes he has been all along. "You sure you're good to go?"

Billy makes a face. "Casey'll think it's an improvement," he says hoarsely, trying not to wince.

Rick blanches. "I know, but...you were choked," he says in futility. "If I hadn't shown up..."

"Indeed," Billy says, the words grating in his strained vocal cords. "I do remember choking."

And straining and gagging and dying...

-- ouch. Poor Billy and a save by Rick! Yay! It's all good!

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: September 10th, 2013 12:31 am (UTC)
billy considers

Sometimes writing short whump is harder than writing it long! Glad you liked this, though :)

Posted by: sophie_deangirl (sophie_deangirl)
Posted at: August 26th, 2013 04:25 am (UTC)

Long Walk, Short Pier

Okay, I loved this immediately because you had Casey rescuing Billy and you did a stellar job at describing it. I saw it all in my head.


Fave Parts:

Inside, he moved to the figure, groping blindly until he found the seatbelt. It unlatched, and Casey wrapped his arms around the unmoving body, clamping it to himself as he pushed off the car and rocketed back to the surface.

He came out of the water with a gasp, but barely noticed how greedily his lungs gulped the air. For a moment, he stole a look at Billy, splayed limply in his arms, head lolled.

-- sigh!

His movements are harsh and mechanical, and he keeps count through gritted teeth until he pauses just long enough to breathe for Billy.

He keeps going.

Again.

Again.

Then, Billy jerks. He splutters, coughing and choking, and Casey rolls him on his side. There's relief, heady and overwhelming, and Casey is almost grateful that Billy needs another few moments before his eyes open and he looks at Casey.

--yay!! Had no doubts!


"What were you thinking?" he asks.

Billy's brow wrinkles. "Pardon?"

"You took a long walk off a short pier," Casey snaps. "Literally. That's pretty stupid, even for you."

Billy looks distressed; then apologetic. "If it helps, I thought it was a longer pier."

"So you're not stupid, you just lack all depth perception?" Casey asks.

"The lesser of two evils," Billy wheezes, pausing to hack more water out of his lungs.

--I love this exchange!! It's downright adorable!!


Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: September 10th, 2013 12:32 am (UTC)
casey human weapon

I firmly believe that Casey is almost more protective than the rest of them, he just shows it totally differently. Which is what I love about Casey :)

Thank you!

Posted by: sophie_deangirl (sophie_deangirl)
Posted at: August 26th, 2013 04:39 am (UTC)

Slipping:

I love the entire thing! My favorite of the short stories for the obvious reasons you know so well. Just like you do Casey and Billy so well, you do equally well with Michael and Billy here. You pair Billy delightfully with all of them.

This story just wrenches because you have Michael bear the guilt here and reveals his commitment to his men, specifically to Billy at that moment. It showcases his vulnerability and I love it.

Fave part (though I loved it all):

“You trusted...me,” Billy says, eyes starting to blink heavily.

Michael jostles him. “And you trusted me,” he says, a little louder now, using his other hand to reach down and tap Billy’s cheek.

-- this exchange just touched my heart.

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: September 10th, 2013 12:32 am (UTC)
billy guitar

I knew you'd like this one :) And the show often made light of serious situations, but the potential for everything to go wrong was always there. And such things engage my muse :)

Thanks!

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