Hmpf does embarrassing insta-fic!
Apr. 16th, 2007 04:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hmpfTo celebrate this rare, nay, completely singular occurrence, here's the result, right away - unbeta'd, unpolished, un-whatevered. Usually I don't release fics into the wild before they've been rewritten at least ten times, then put in a drawer for at least a month, then beta'd, then revised a couple of times, then beta'd again, then put back into the drawer for another fortnight... you get the picture. But then, usually I don't write fics in three hours, either. Of course, the fact that this took only three hours probably shows, and I'll be mortally embarrassed tomorrow, but, you know... what the hell. This is the first time in my life I've finished a first draft in less than *weeks* (and weeks is *good*, even); have to mark the occasion somehow.
ETA: This was very much a first draft. A second draft can be found here. Third draft here. Fourth (and best, so far) draft here. This fic is very much a Work in Progress. I don't usually do this in public, but I felt I needed to get *some* version of this fic out there, and so I decided, subsequently, to get *all* of them out there. I suggest you always pick the latest version, but then, people liked the first version, too, so that can't have been too bad... *g*
ETA 2: Final version here: http://hmpf.livejournal.com/166515.html#cutid1"
Fandom is Life On Mars (what else would it be at the moment?), characters are Sam, Ruth, Maya (sort of), and it's gory, melodramatic and generally unpleasant. Spoilers for 2.08, obviously.
Oh yeah, and you probably know that I'm not a native speaker, and since this hasn't been beta'd, there may be weirdness...
****
And then it's all suddenly very simple:
his feet slapping on concrete, the last step, the last ever,
pushing off with all his power,
sky high and wide,
and then there's only the great blue,
and gravity,
and it's all right, it's all right,
no space for anything but joy in this sky,
and it's too late now,
(a relief),
too late for regrets,
too late for a change of mind,
and it's such a relief, a relief
to feel the air rush past,
to see the ground come up,
to know this is it,
it's over it's done he's done what he could he's done his best
and that's all he can do,
and his mum will understand, she understands,
she will -
[Ruth Tyler understands: that she's failed him; that she failed to see the sky waiting at the back of his eyes; understands that she doesn't matter; and she'll go on, of course, she's done it before, once, twice, she can do it again, pick herself up another time and go on, she needs to believe that, and sometimes she does believe that, sometimes – and then she stands by a mound of earth that's still fresh and she knows that this time is different, and she straightens her back, raises her chin, and there's no place to go, no place to go at all.]
- and he's falling,
too late now,
falling,
too late,
and it's so good
to be going, going, gone,
almost gone already,
too late to do anything,
it's over already,
it's over,
(so good),
the sky gone,
only the ground now,
jumping up,
rushing up,
coming to meet him,
fractions of seconds now,
(such a relief),
and there's nothing here for him,
nothing, nobody -
[Maya has had a lunch date, another pointless exercise in rebound, and of course anyone should be better than Sam, Sam was unsalvageable from the first, and yet, and yet - and there's an ambulance in front of the building, a small crowd, a colleague turns, sees her, moves to apprehend her, and she knows, she just knows; she trips, runs, pushes through the cluster and reaches the centre just as someone says 'it's over', sinks to her knees as frantic activity is replaced by a stillness that radiates outwards, takes his hand and feels a hand on her shoulder and says, to no one in particular, 'I'm his girlfriend', surprised.]
- and there's
no way to turn back,
no reason,
this is liberation,
this is -
and the last millisecond takes forever,
a glorious, golden eternity,
but then
the ground's there and
things burst, tear and break
and his blood's free to fill spaces inside him
as his brain quietly gives out
and that's that.
ETA: This was very much a first draft. A second draft can be found here. Third draft here. Fourth (and best, so far) draft here. This fic is very much a Work in Progress. I don't usually do this in public, but I felt I needed to get *some* version of this fic out there, and so I decided, subsequently, to get *all* of them out there. I suggest you always pick the latest version, but then, people liked the first version, too, so that can't have been too bad... *g*
ETA 2: Final version here: http://hmpf.livejournal.com/166515.html#cutid1"
Fandom is Life On Mars (what else would it be at the moment?), characters are Sam, Ruth, Maya (sort of), and it's gory, melodramatic and generally unpleasant. Spoilers for 2.08, obviously.
Oh yeah, and you probably know that I'm not a native speaker, and since this hasn't been beta'd, there may be weirdness...
****
And then it's all suddenly very simple:
his feet slapping on concrete, the last step, the last ever,
pushing off with all his power,
sky high and wide,
and then there's only the great blue,
and gravity,
and it's all right, it's all right,
no space for anything but joy in this sky,
and it's too late now,
(a relief),
too late for regrets,
too late for a change of mind,
and it's such a relief, a relief
to feel the air rush past,
to see the ground come up,
to know this is it,
it's over it's done he's done what he could he's done his best
and that's all he can do,
and his mum will understand, she understands,
she will -
[Ruth Tyler understands: that she's failed him; that she failed to see the sky waiting at the back of his eyes; understands that she doesn't matter; and she'll go on, of course, she's done it before, once, twice, she can do it again, pick herself up another time and go on, she needs to believe that, and sometimes she does believe that, sometimes – and then she stands by a mound of earth that's still fresh and she knows that this time is different, and she straightens her back, raises her chin, and there's no place to go, no place to go at all.]
- and he's falling,
too late now,
falling,
too late,
and it's so good
to be going, going, gone,
almost gone already,
too late to do anything,
it's over already,
it's over,
(so good),
the sky gone,
only the ground now,
jumping up,
rushing up,
coming to meet him,
fractions of seconds now,
(such a relief),
and there's nothing here for him,
nothing, nobody -
[Maya has had a lunch date, another pointless exercise in rebound, and of course anyone should be better than Sam, Sam was unsalvageable from the first, and yet, and yet - and there's an ambulance in front of the building, a small crowd, a colleague turns, sees her, moves to apprehend her, and she knows, she just knows; she trips, runs, pushes through the cluster and reaches the centre just as someone says 'it's over', sinks to her knees as frantic activity is replaced by a stillness that radiates outwards, takes his hand and feels a hand on her shoulder and says, to no one in particular, 'I'm his girlfriend', surprised.]
- and there's
no way to turn back,
no reason,
this is liberation,
this is -
and the last millisecond takes forever,
a glorious, golden eternity,
but then
the ground's there and
things burst, tear and break
and his blood's free to fill spaces inside him
as his brain quietly gives out
and that's that.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-04-16 01:11 pm (UTC)Poor Maya. Stupid Sam >:
Thanks.
Date: 2007-04-16 09:28 pm (UTC)I felt some sense of almost-sadistic satisfaction when I wrote about the moment he hit the ground. A kind of 'you've only yourself to blame for this, my friend'-feeling. *eg* (I was going to make it even more graphic, initially, but then decided that the vagueness worked better and there was a limit to how much I wanted to gross myself out. *g*)