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stunt_muppet at 11:11pm on 29/06/2007 under csi:miami, fanfics, fic posts, fic posts: gen, fic variations june 2007 - alexx
stunt_muppet at 11:11pm on 29/06/2007 under csi:miami, fanfics, fic posts, fic posts: gen, fic variations june 2007 - alexxIt's been a good week. :) Good weekends, good week at work, and now I'm feeling doubly creative - both for writing and for jewelry. Memes work wonders for my ficcing drive. Real Life update probably on Saturday, as it'll be a lazy, nothing-to-do day.
Also, someone hold me down and stop me from signing up for
summer_bits, 25_crimes, and/or [Error: Bad username in LJ tag]. I'm already up to my neck in challenges and memes and backlogged fic, and the crackrabbits be chewing on my brain worse than ever. I don't have time for this. I don't have space for this...but it just looks like so much fun.Almost done; just one more ficlet to go. I may actually finish this challenge! Squee!
Also, I managed to go this long in my Miami fic career without writing Lost Son angst. Sadly, I've broken that now.
Title: Pale
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 194
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fic_variations Prompt/Claim: “Light/Shadow”, Alexx WoodsSpoilers: "Lost Son"
A/N: "light" here is used in the sense of "light-shaded, light toned, pale". So, you see, it fits.
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They always look so pale when they come to her. Faces like ashes, lividity spots like raindrops under chalk-white skin. She knows why that is, scientifically; years of training and medical research tells her that. But seeing that pale skin is like watching the life drain from them, watching them become shells, like mannequins painted a shade too light.
They always look so pale when they come to her. Faces like ashes, lividity spots like raindrops under chalk-white skin. She knows why that is, scientifically; years of training and medical research tells her that. But seeing that pale skin is like watching the life drain from them, watching them become shells, like mannequins painted a shade too light.
It’s why she started talking to them – to make sure she always remembered they were people. And by now she doesn’t need the reminder.
Especially not with him, because twenty-four hours ago he was standing on the other side of the table, looking down on someone else’s body.
And now she has to try to un-learn what she’s been learning for years.
He’s too pale. He’s too still. It’s not Tim Speedle there, it’s only a shell. A mannequin. Tim Speedle’s gone. It’s only a body. Just the raw machinery of a human being.
It doesn’t work. They were all somebody once; somebody’s son, somebody’s brother, somebody’s friend. But this time she knew who the somebody was. And cutting him open meant that somebody was finally, totally gone.
She’s not ready. She might never be.
-----Cross-posted to
csimiamiand fic_variations.
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