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stunt_muppet at 11:04pm on 03/06/2007 under csi:miami, fanfics, fic posts, fic posts: gen, fic variations june 2007 - alexx
stunt_muppet at 11:04pm on 03/06/2007 under csi:miami, fanfics, fic posts, fic posts: gen, fic variations june 2007 - alexx*eyeroll*
A second viewing of PotC, this one in an almost empty theater early in the day, spawned another ficbunny and more progress on the movie review and the existing bunny. I'm almost tired of writing by now, but I know that eventually this will be over and I'll be out of inspiration and I'll whine about it.
*sigh*
Title: No Shadows Here
Words: 408
Rating: PG-13![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
fic_variations Prompt/Claim: “Light/Shadow”, Alexx Woods
Spoilers: End of season 3
Author’s Notes: Takes place sometime after Season 3
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Shadows are the most flattering thing you can wear. Shadows mask flaws and irregular bits; they let light settle on smooth surfaces and soft curves; they make every color look better.
Shadows are the most flattering thing you can wear. Shadows mask flaws and irregular bits; they let light settle on smooth surfaces and soft curves; they make every color look better.
There are no shadows in the morgue. Too many fluorescent lights, too many reflective surfaces. There’s light everywhere, because otherwise Alexx can’t do her job right.
And her job is to peek into whatever it was that the people lying on the slab wanted concealed. Holes from hypodermics along their arms. A suspicious cut hidden under clothing and hair. And, her personal favorite, the 17-year-old in the Catholic school uniform with hickeys the size of tennis balls on her shoulders. Sneaking out while Mom was asleep, no doubt. And wasn’t that what you were supposed to do when you were 17?
Of course, in the bright lights around her, she also gets an unrivaled view of what’s been done to them. But you don’t become a coroner if you can’t handle a messily ruptured intestine at least.
Inside the morgue, even the living can’t hide behind shadows. And just by noticing on her coworkers what she notices on the bodies, she’s come to know more about them then they ever would tell her. She doesn’t ask questions because she doesn’t have to.
She sees that poised, confident Calleigh hasn’t slept in days, and she’s started to bite on her manicured fingernails. She is nervous, and she is unused to nervousness. The world has shaken under her feet, and she’s still trying to get her balance back.
She sees that Eric is more frazzled than he’ll admit and is by now running on café cubano. (Not espresso. Never espresso. Espresso is for pansies who can’t handle café cubano.) And his badge is very securely clipped to his belt, on his side so his arm brushes against it and he can make sure it’s there.
She sees that Ryan has cut most of his hair clean off; he says it’s easier to take care of, but she can see by the way he keeps checking his profile that he’s trying to look clean, authoritative, like he belongs here.
She sees that John has been bearing the weight of secrets and silence for far too long. It has collapsed him, slumped him, tensed his back and his shoulders. It has put a hole in his head.
It’s amazing what you can see in people once their shadows are stripped away.
-----Cross-posted to
fic_variations and csimiami.
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