Ficlet: (no title)
May. 12th, 2010 08:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
curuchamionI really don't know if this is any good, but I think it's as good as it's going to get. Anyway, I need to get it off my mind and into the fresh air - is that a mixed metaphor? o.O
Title suggestions welcome.
Title: (no title)
Summary: mildly angsty "Say UNCLE Affair" tagfic.
Notes: Gen, double drabble. Makes a lot more sense if you've seen the ep. (Hulu will start charging for it on May 15 2010, so get over there now if you haven't!)
There was nobody in the wreckage of the van.
The day after that was established beyond doubt, all the L.A. newspapers ran a small announcement in the obituary column: a memorial service for the late Dr Ivan Trigorin would be held in a certain cemetery at such-and-such a time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
General Hunt Stockwell stood alone, looking at the headstone.
It was a monument such as his friend would have appreciated: a rough stone block with “Ivan Grigorevich Trigorin” graven in Cyrillic, and nothing else. Even in death, Trigorin was not a man who gave himself away.
Hunt began to speak – not murmuring, like one talking to the dead, but clearly and rather loudly.
“I know you’re watching, Ivan,” he said. “I hope you’re listening. If you are, hear this!” He drew a deep breath. “I can’t ever forget what you did, Ivan. I know you won’t ever forgive yourself. But…” he bowed his head, his voice soft and terse… “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”
“So do I.” The familiar Russian accent was no more than a breath on the back of his neck.
Hunt Stockwell did not turn around. He knew his partner was already long gone.
Title suggestions welcome.
Title: (no title)
Summary: mildly angsty "Say UNCLE Affair" tagfic.
Notes: Gen, double drabble. Makes a lot more sense if you've seen the ep. (Hulu will start charging for it on May 15 2010, so get over there now if you haven't!)
There was nobody in the wreckage of the van.
The day after that was established beyond doubt, all the L.A. newspapers ran a small announcement in the obituary column: a memorial service for the late Dr Ivan Trigorin would be held in a certain cemetery at such-and-such a time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
General Hunt Stockwell stood alone, looking at the headstone.
It was a monument such as his friend would have appreciated: a rough stone block with “Ivan Grigorevich Trigorin” graven in Cyrillic, and nothing else. Even in death, Trigorin was not a man who gave himself away.
Hunt began to speak – not murmuring, like one talking to the dead, but clearly and rather loudly.
“I know you’re watching, Ivan,” he said. “I hope you’re listening. If you are, hear this!” He drew a deep breath. “I can’t ever forget what you did, Ivan. I know you won’t ever forgive yourself. But…” he bowed his head, his voice soft and terse… “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”
“So do I.” The familiar Russian accent was no more than a breath on the back of his neck.
Hunt Stockwell did not turn around. He knew his partner was already long gone.
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no subject
Date: 2010-05-13 01:20 am (UTC)Very nicely done!:)
no subject
Date: 2010-05-13 02:03 am (UTC)