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July 24th, 2006


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09:08 pm - WIP fic meme
Taken from mistraltoes:

Post a little snippet of your current WIPs and if so inclined tell us a little bit about them.

I'm not doing this in any particular order, though I've put them by fandom and not given any of them the (silly) working titles most of them are currently under.


Numb3rs (future-fic):

Charlie closed the back door behind himself and carefully locked it. The lights in the kitchen were off, possibly indicating that Amita had given up the struggle with dishes and resigned herself to an early night. For a moment guilt crept in, taking the shine off the new discovery he’d made working in the garage tonight. Maybe she wouldn’t be asleep yet–-it was only ten o’clock–-and they could talk for a while.

Maybe little Maggie would be awake enough to lay on his lap and smile that toothless baby grin.

Charlie shook his head as he eased through the swinging door into the still-lit living room. The rocking chair, its back to him, moved silently and steadily, but the thatch of dark hair he could see over the back was definitely not Amita’s. Not wanting to spook him, Charlie walked softly around and into his brother’s line of vision. “Don?”

Don’s head jerked up, his body instantly tense and ready. The second he actually saw Charlie, he slumped back in the chair, trying not to jostle the tiny sleeping child in his arms. “Charlie. Don’t do that.”

Charlie took a seat nearby. “What are you doing here so late?”

“Your wife is a con artist.” Don actually looked chagrined, though he held Maggie easily and comfortably. “Said you’d be in soon, would I hold Maggie for a while, and took off upstairs. I think I heard the shower.” His fingers absently stroked the dark down on the baby’s head.

Charlie struggled to repress a grin. “Are you sure it’s not Maggie who’s the budding con artist?”

“I’ll have you know, Chuck, you’re raising a family of criminals.” Don smiled; and even if it wasn’t big enough, and the lines around his eyes were deep with weariness, it was real.

~~~~~



The Sentinel:

Jim was astonished to wake to the smell of omelets the next morning. He rolled over, switching off his alarm before it could ring, and stretched. “Sandburg,” he called over the edge of his loft bedroom down into the kitchen. The first light of dawn was peeking through the balcony doors. “It’s Tuesday. What the hell are you doing already up?”

Blair glanced up from the pan in which a beautiful circle of pale yellow eggs, flecked with green and brown, were hissing. “I want to start this day right,” he said firmly. “And with you, that means breakfast.” He went back to the eggs, edging a spatula underneath one edge.

As Jim came down the stair, his roommate transferred the omelet to a (warm!) plate, and set it at on the kitchen bar. Without being asked, Jim said, “Garlic, mushrooms, thyme, salt and pepper, you did put milk in it this time, and I’m going to want seconds if that’s at all possible.” He dragged a stool closer, turned to get a fork from the drawer, and found Blair offering him one. “Are you sure this is just a good-karma breakfast, and not a bribe?”

Blair snorted. “I thought we’d covered this; I don’t bribe the Sentinel.”

“Except in a good cause.” Jim cut a neat triangle out of his omelet and lifted it on his fork, sniffing it appreciatively before popping it into his mouth.

The smooth taste, edged by garlic and lightened by milk, spread over his tongue, and flooded his vision with momentary light. Jim blinked and swallowed. The light vanished.

~~~~~



The Sentinel (AU):

Propped motionless in the crisply white hospital-style bed, the man might have been carved from stone. Occasional flickers of bright blue eyes were the only evidence of life within.

He was watching the night fall.

Somewhere in the small ground-floor condo his caregiver was preparing for bed. With the ease of long practice he tuned out the steps, the running water, the half-hummed song, and focused instead on failing light shattering through the wide window. The colors were changing, fiery glints edging evergreen needles on the lower branches, throwing darkness itself into relief. Enough light seeped through to reflect from the pale walls of his room, obscuring the view with a faint image of its furnishings. No matter. He could look through it.

That would just require a bit more concentration, a sharper focus. Which he had. Moving past the illusion in the glass, he watched the play of light among the leaves. Each needle nodding against the next in the breeze. Still one second, then bouncing along with its brothers. The light wound in and out between them, an endless, ever-changing game of cat’s cradle. Green and gold and brown and gray--

Annoyed, he pulled back, turning his head so that he faced the wall. Every lump, spot, crack, or chip he knew. Quite an accomplishment. The loving, painful end of two years’ methodical penance. His eyes sought the familiar water stain on the edge of the window frame. He could trace every nuance of its outline...as long as he didn’t look out the window. This wasn’t enough, could never be enough. But it was all he could offer, and damned if he would be cheated of that too.

~~~~~



Alias:

It was getting cold.

Even all the way down here, what, maybe a hundred feet below ground? Weird. Even if the power had failed already–- And it hadn’t, the lights were still on, though maybe some should be turned off to save the generators, but the systems were all up and running. Marshall rubbed his hands briskly, trying to drive away the beginnings of numbness.

“Maybe it’s just psychological, huh?” he said aloud, risking a quick glance from the screen to locate his companion. “The cold?”

Fifteen feet away, Jack Bristow didn’t even turn around. Just fiddled with the wires coming from the double door’s security panel. Marshall itched to get his hands in there, it would be such child’s play--but that was the point, wasn't it, the whole idea of his being here at all? To do things even Mr. Bristow couldn’t?

~~~~~



Numb3rs/The Sentinel:

Don thumped his beer down on the coffee table and stalked into the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind him. He leaned against the sink, and let his burning eyes close. The weight of the day, of Charlie’s pain, of Colby’s shock, of the blood on that white shirt collar, pressed him down. He wanted nothing more than to just lie down and sleep. Forget all this crap for a little while.

His cell phone vibrated quietly against his waist. Granger, the screen said. “Yeah, Eppes.”

“Don, I found it! That coin signature–-I knew it sounded familiar!” The young agent sounded positively giddy.

“Whoa, whoa. That’s great news; what do you have?” Don turned around and leaned back against the sink; maybe this day would end on a half-way decent note after all.

“There were a lot of legends told in our Special Forces teams back in Afghanistan. One of my commanding officers told us once about this Army Ranger who went up against a Russian assassin in Peru. Early nineties, I think. The Russian used two-ruble coins to mark his kills.”

Don sighed. “Guess I need this Ranger’s name.”

“Already got it.”

~~~~~

Current Mood: creativecreative
Current Music: The Closer (on TNT)

(13 lit candles | Light a candle)

Comments:


[User Picture]
From:kerravonsen
Date:July 25th, 2006 10:18 am (UTC)
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Mmmmm.
[User Picture]
From:izhilzha
Date:July 25th, 2006 04:45 pm (UTC)
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That sounds somewhat non-commital. :-) At least 3 of these are going to be on my Finishathon list....
[User Picture]
From:kerravonsen
Date:July 26th, 2006 03:52 am (UTC)
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Oh, no, it was a sort of "yum" kind of "mmmm". I'm particularly interested in the Numb3rs crossover (even though I haven't seen Numb3rs).
[User Picture]
From:izhilzha
Date:July 26th, 2006 06:56 am (UTC)
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Oh, no, it was a sort of "yum" kind of "mmmm".

Oh, good. :-) That's kind of a relief.

I'm particularly interested in the Numb3rs crossover (even though I haven't seen Numb3rs).

*eg*

This is one of the first really plotty, tight crossovers I've attempted, and it's just coming scene by scene into my mind. It's also the first time I've had to construct additional "canon" to fill in the gaps between the end of a show (TS) and the current timeline of the other (N3). It's tough, but I'm also having way too much fun. And though the story starts in the Numb3rs side of things, it's pretty involved from the TS side, too, and there will be a lot that a fan of one show gets right away (I'm wondering if there was enough in this snippet to hint at my plot or not) that fans of the other show will have to pick up in exposition/during the action.

Maybe this'll be my Verity. ;-)
[User Picture]
From:mistraltoes
Date:July 25th, 2006 11:55 am (UTC)
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Very good. :)
[User Picture]
From:izhilzha
Date:July 25th, 2006 04:49 pm (UTC)
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I got a smiley! :-)

Any other thoughts welcome (because talking about my writing is something I do obsessively).
From:(Anonymous)
Date:July 25th, 2006 12:46 pm (UTC)
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N3 future-fic: Okay, this one's new to me. Have we talked about it? Surely it's not the . . . other one . . . that we have discussed. (And how wonderful is Don with kids?)

TS: This one is your NANO (or whatever it's called), right? I'll get to reading the rest of that one . . . honest . . . *checks today's schedule . . . *

TSAU: Gah!!! Okay this one I do recognize as having been the topic of many conversations. Do we need to review my "stipulation" for this piece? *bg*

N3/TS: Oy. Vey. And that's all I'm sayin' on that one. :-)

(I'm afraid I've never seen Alias, so I cannot comment there.)

And you have no idea how close I came to starting an LJ this weekend . . . I tend to get sidetracked, though . . .

V.
[User Picture]
From:izhilzha
Date:July 25th, 2006 05:06 pm (UTC)
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And you have no idea how close I came to starting an LJ this weekend . . . I tend to get sidetracked, though . . .

Get thyself an LJ, my friend! *pokes V.* Come on, just an unpaid account, it seriously doesn't take long. *pokes V. some more*

N3 future-fic: Okay, this one's new to me. Have we talked about it?

No, this one we haven't discussed. Back in November, I wrote a little future-ficlet that I called What's Mine is Yours. This is a sort-of sequel; though from the working title I gave it (Superstitions), I think it's meant to be very much a Don-from-Charlie's POV sort of fic.

Surely it's not the . . . other one . . . that we have discussed.

Which one would that be? (be as vague as you like.)

(And how wonderful is Don with kids?)

There should be way more of that in canon, imho. :-D

TS: This one is your NANO (or whatever it's called), right? I'll get to reading the rest of that one . . . honest . . . *checks today's schedule . . . *

*g* When you have time! Though I admit I am eagerly awaiting comments.

TSAU: Gah!!! Okay this one I do recognize as having been the topic of many conversations. Do we need to review my "stipulation" for this piece? *bg*

Shut up, V. *eg* I'm just following the story. And if the story says A Certain Person dies, how do you expect me to argue? Seriously?

Aren't you glad I've at least dragged this one out of mothballs again? Four years is a dang long time to work on a 5,000 word fic.

N3/TS: Oy. Vey. And that's all I'm sayin' on that one. :-)

Aw, I already know you like this one.
[User Picture]
From:kerravonsen
Date:July 26th, 2006 03:54 am (UTC)
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And you have no idea how close I came to starting an LJ this weekend...

(joins in poking V.)
[User Picture]
From:izhilzha
Date:July 26th, 2006 06:50 am (UTC)
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Omgosh our poking worked!

feliciakw

!!!! :-)
[User Picture]
From:kerravonsen
Date:July 26th, 2006 07:33 am (UTC)
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Yay!
[User Picture]
From:rose_in_shadow
Date:July 25th, 2006 11:57 pm (UTC)
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Numb3rs future fic

Thoughts of seeing Don w/ a baby makes me grin. Cuutttee!!!! Want more!

Don't know anything about Sentinel, so can't comment on that. But yay for Marshall!
[User Picture]
From:izhilzha
Date:July 26th, 2006 12:39 am (UTC)
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Thoughts of seeing Don w/ a baby makes me grin.

Me too. :-) Which is probably why this story insists on being written.

And I'll take that "yay Marshall." Marshall totally = yay. :-)

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