donutsweeper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
donutsweeper) wrote2007-11-03 12:10 am
donutsweeper) wrote2007-11-03 12:10 am
Entry tags:
I Must Be Strong, and Carry On
Title: I Must Be Strong, and Carry On
Pairing/Rating/Warning: Jack/Jack, rated G
Word Count: 411
Summary: Two kindred spirits find each other, just for one night.
Author's Note: Written for the Moving Words and Pictures Flashfic Challenge usingmatsujo9 's video
The video "Tears in Heaven"
Pairing/Rating/Warning: Jack/Jack, rated G
Word Count: 411
Summary: Two kindred spirits find each other, just for one night.
Author's Note: Written for the Moving Words and Pictures Flashfic Challenge using
matsujo9 's videoThe video "Tears in Heaven"
Sometimes it’s hard, fighting for a people not your own; stuck in a strange place, at a strange time, everything familiar yet slightly off. You can’t make attachments, well, not really. The team’s off limits, or should be anyway. And the locals? You’ve tried, they’re nice and it is expected after all, but you don’t belong here and it just never seems quite right.
But then you spot him. A kindred spirit, you can tell right away. Something about the eyes, a longing you recognize so well. You see yourself in him; a soldier, doing his duty, no matter the cost, no matter the consequence. He’s seen too much, endured too much, and despite the front he puts on he seems just as desperate and lost as you.
You try to tell yourself it’s acceptable to look at him the way you are; to feel the way you do. But if you can’t quite convince yourself, what hope do you have that he would feel the same way?
And he doesn’t feel the same, does he? He couldn’t. Not with the customs, the beliefs of the day. Your head knows that, it’s your heart that refuses to believe it.
But then there’s the moment on the couch, when your fingers touch. And it’s like a bolt of electricity shoots straight to your heart. How is it even possible that this could feel so right? In the moments after you had to split up you catch your breath and wonder if trusting your gut and overriding your instincts is worth the risk it entails.
You find yourself staring at him. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t look away. Then suddenly, before you even know what’s happening, you’re out on the dance floor. Together. He’s in your arms and you’re in his, and just then, for that moment frozen in time, all is right with the world. You wish you could stay like that forever, but reality crashes down around you.
You have to say goodbye, to part forever, no matter how much you don’t want to. So you put everything into that kiss, your wants, your fears, all the things you wished you’d had the chance to say. He does the same. Then he is gone, his scent still in the air, the feel of his lips lingering against yours and you are left behind, but perhaps a little less alone than you had been.
Goodbye James, you’ll remember him always.
But then you spot him. A kindred spirit, you can tell right away. Something about the eyes, a longing you recognize so well. You see yourself in him; a soldier, doing his duty, no matter the cost, no matter the consequence. He’s seen too much, endured too much, and despite the front he puts on he seems just as desperate and lost as you.
You try to tell yourself it’s acceptable to look at him the way you are; to feel the way you do. But if you can’t quite convince yourself, what hope do you have that he would feel the same way?
And he doesn’t feel the same, does he? He couldn’t. Not with the customs, the beliefs of the day. Your head knows that, it’s your heart that refuses to believe it.
But then there’s the moment on the couch, when your fingers touch. And it’s like a bolt of electricity shoots straight to your heart. How is it even possible that this could feel so right? In the moments after you had to split up you catch your breath and wonder if trusting your gut and overriding your instincts is worth the risk it entails.
You find yourself staring at him. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t look away. Then suddenly, before you even know what’s happening, you’re out on the dance floor. Together. He’s in your arms and you’re in his, and just then, for that moment frozen in time, all is right with the world. You wish you could stay like that forever, but reality crashes down around you.
You have to say goodbye, to part forever, no matter how much you don’t want to. So you put everything into that kiss, your wants, your fears, all the things you wished you’d had the chance to say. He does the same. Then he is gone, his scent still in the air, the feel of his lips lingering against yours and you are left behind, but perhaps a little less alone than you had been.
Goodbye James, you’ll remember him always.
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Ha, I bet. I'm sure there are some where Gwyneth is Gwen's great-great-great grandmother too. Now if I hear that Gwen Cooper has a cousin in Manchester who's happily married to a gay man named Bob, the circle will be complete.