donutsweeper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
donutsweeper) wrote2008-08-31 09:12 pm
donutsweeper) wrote2008-08-31 09:12 pm
Entry tags:
Fic Commentary: The Hunter
Yet another commentary from yours truly. If there's a story of mine you'd like to see commentary on, please feel free to ask!
Title: The Hunter
Pairing/Warning/Rating: none, rated G
Word Count: 255
Summary: Jack is on a hunt
Author's Note: Written for aeron_lanart- for the holiday meme. The request had been for something dark. I think this qualifies!
I know that most people see me as a crack or humorous writer. And that's fine. A *lot* of my stuff fits into that category. But then I shock the heck out of people with things like this or any of my other dark or violent stuff. I've written rape and dub-con and squicky violence. And I've written light fluff and stuff so sweet it makes your teeth hurt. I'm not sure if one style is more "me" than another.
This particular story came about because I was thinking of the way S1 ended and Jack's abrupt acceptance and forgiveness of Owen. The man led a mutiny and shot and killed him. And nearly ended the world. It just rang false to have Jack be so hunky dory about it all.
Jack stands alone in the darkness, looking up at the silhouetted figure. Waiting. Watching. The nightly ritual he observes is a familiar dance by now. The minutes count down in his head; he knows instinctively when the sleep will have taken the man he seeks. The man he hunts.
There is a 60's song called "Silhouettes." It's actually a light bubbly song of misconception, but it made me realize that you can tell a lot by watching someone's silhouette, but they wouldn't have any idea they were being watched.
Jack, despite his flirty, light hearted nature, is a man of depth. He's been a soldier. A warrior. He knows all about having to do things to survive.
When enough time passes he surreptitiously sneaks inside, noiselessly making his way past the building’s defenses, down the corridors, up the stairs, and through locked doors with ridiculous ease. Carefully avoiding the creaky floor board he creeps into the bedroom. The revolver glistens in his fist. One bullet, that’s all it will take, only the truly weak need three, and he is not the weak one here. He will never be the weak one again.
I wanted to paint the picture here showing that Jack's done this many, many times. He knows this place inside and out. He's had these feelings, and acted on them, before.
The sleeping form mumbles, shifting slightly on the bed. In the moonlight Owen looks younger, more vulnerable, less like a threat and more like prey. With a small shake of the head Jack reminds himself that this is necessary. The man had defied him, claiming he was relieving him of command before killing him and nearly destroying the world in the process. How could he ever truly trust him again? He raises the gun and in a rush of anger and determination pulls the trigger. But all that happens is the soft click as the hammer falls on the empty chamber.
Jack is *not* a monster though, and the shift of Owen from threat to prey makes a huge difference. After all, Owen didn't actually kill him, did he? Well, he did, but Jack didn't stay dead... But, when thinking on that he'd realize that it didn't matter that he didn't stay dead, Owen didn't know he wouldn't and that's why Jack snaps and pulls the trigger.
Next time will be different. Next time he’ll actually have a bullet in the gun. Next time, he tells himself as he slips out, like a thief in the night.
Will Jack come back and do this dance again with a loaded weapon? Has he ever pulled the trigger before? Is the whole thing the catharsis he needs to eventually get past his feelings of Owen's betrayal? I left that all up to the reader to decide.
Something I've noticed while doing these commentaries is that I leave a *lot* up to the reader. Can't decide if that makes me a good writer or just plain evil.
Title: The Hunter
Pairing/Warning/Rating: none, rated G
Word Count: 255
Summary: Jack is on a hunt
Author's Note: Written for aeron_lanart- for the holiday meme. The request had been for something dark. I think this qualifies!
I know that most people see me as a crack or humorous writer. And that's fine. A *lot* of my stuff fits into that category. But then I shock the heck out of people with things like this or any of my other dark or violent stuff. I've written rape and dub-con and squicky violence. And I've written light fluff and stuff so sweet it makes your teeth hurt. I'm not sure if one style is more "me" than another.
This particular story came about because I was thinking of the way S1 ended and Jack's abrupt acceptance and forgiveness of Owen. The man led a mutiny and shot and killed him. And nearly ended the world. It just rang false to have Jack be so hunky dory about it all.
Jack stands alone in the darkness, looking up at the silhouetted figure. Waiting. Watching. The nightly ritual he observes is a familiar dance by now. The minutes count down in his head; he knows instinctively when the sleep will have taken the man he seeks. The man he hunts.
There is a 60's song called "Silhouettes." It's actually a light bubbly song of misconception, but it made me realize that you can tell a lot by watching someone's silhouette, but they wouldn't have any idea they were being watched.
Jack, despite his flirty, light hearted nature, is a man of depth. He's been a soldier. A warrior. He knows all about having to do things to survive.
When enough time passes he surreptitiously sneaks inside, noiselessly making his way past the building’s defenses, down the corridors, up the stairs, and through locked doors with ridiculous ease. Carefully avoiding the creaky floor board he creeps into the bedroom. The revolver glistens in his fist. One bullet, that’s all it will take, only the truly weak need three, and he is not the weak one here. He will never be the weak one again.
I wanted to paint the picture here showing that Jack's done this many, many times. He knows this place inside and out. He's had these feelings, and acted on them, before.
The sleeping form mumbles, shifting slightly on the bed. In the moonlight Owen looks younger, more vulnerable, less like a threat and more like prey. With a small shake of the head Jack reminds himself that this is necessary. The man had defied him, claiming he was relieving him of command before killing him and nearly destroying the world in the process. How could he ever truly trust him again? He raises the gun and in a rush of anger and determination pulls the trigger. But all that happens is the soft click as the hammer falls on the empty chamber.
Jack is *not* a monster though, and the shift of Owen from threat to prey makes a huge difference. After all, Owen didn't actually kill him, did he? Well, he did, but Jack didn't stay dead... But, when thinking on that he'd realize that it didn't matter that he didn't stay dead, Owen didn't know he wouldn't and that's why Jack snaps and pulls the trigger.
Next time will be different. Next time he’ll actually have a bullet in the gun. Next time, he tells himself as he slips out, like a thief in the night.
Will Jack come back and do this dance again with a loaded weapon? Has he ever pulled the trigger before? Is the whole thing the catharsis he needs to eventually get past his feelings of Owen's betrayal? I left that all up to the reader to decide.
Something I've noticed while doing these commentaries is that I leave a *lot* up to the reader. Can't decide if that makes me a good writer or just plain evil.