Fic: Dealing - Part 6d
Sep. 7th, 2004 10:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
estepheiaThis is the last part of chapter 6. It took me a long time to write, but I think it's working. At least I hope so.
Erlier chapters are here. - Part 6a, Part 6b, Part 6c.
This was none of Rayne's business. If the old sorcerer thought he could play Hannibal Lecter and crawl into Lindsey's head, he had another thing coming.
"Because I make five times more money than he does. Better pension plan and dental care too," Lindsey lied, without batting an eyelid.
* * *
Rayne regarded his pupil. A big fat lie served with a straight face was like a door slammed into one's face, or a combination lock on a desk drawer. Both were supposed to say 'leave me alone' but sounded like 'this is where the goodies are' – at least to Ethan's ears.
His palms itched with the impulse to deftly pluck thoughts and images from behind those angry eyes, to gather them and reel them up like threads of wool, unraveling the lad's lies to slowly lay him bare. Nothing as fancy as a proper spell, mind you, no thorough rifling through Lindsey's memories, just a little peek, or maybe a nudge, to make him open up a little… easy as pie, as natural as breathing. A tingle tiptoed up Ethan's spine and his fingers twitched.
White screeching heat lashed out at him. The full mug slipped out of his fingers unheeded, as Ethan's entire body spasmed. For a frightening moment Ethan couldn't breathe. His hands flew to his temples. Eyes squeezed shut, palms pressed against his skull Ethan tried to fend off the blinding pain, swaying on his feet. His ability to breathe came back to him in short, frantic bursts.
"What is it?" Lindsey asked, and added mockingly: "No wait, let me guess: There's a great disturbance in the Force, Luke."
Just a warning shot, a cruel reminder of Ethan's current impotence that made his hands shake and his eyes burn with helpless rage. But not an average slap-on-the-wrist sized warning shot, but a king-sized, extra large, double shot, do-you-want-fries-with-that shocker. Or maybe it had just felt worse than usual, because it was less than 24 hours since his last zap-in-the-head.
"You okay?" He heard Lindsey ask.
A vicious migraine was setting up camp inside Ethan's head, so intense, he wanted to rub his eyes with his palms until his eyballs popped, just to chase the excruciating pain from of his skull. His flesh and bones were tingling with power, Itching as though a colony of ants was scuttling around underneath the skin, bent on escape. He was brimming with magic. The well was full, but he couldn't fucking tap into it. And there was no Rack to syphon the excess magic off. Ethan shook his head. No, he was not okay. Far from it.
"Migraine," he choked out, trying to slow down his breathing.
"You should see a doctor," Lindsey said with a frown.
Ethan took a few unsteady steps towards the bed and sank down on it. "Don't like doctors," he forced out between clenched teeth.
"What if it's some kind of tumor?"
Ethan shrugged. He could feel Lindsey's gaze resting on him but didn't look up. Instead, he massaged his temples with his thumbs.
After a few seconds Lindsey could be heard moving about the room, then something nudged Ethan's shoulder: A glass of water, followed by a bottle of painkillers, one of his own, from the look of it.
While Ethan swallowed his pills, Lindsey picked up the shards of the mug and silently cleared up the mess the spilt tea had made. Ethan hadn't even felt the burn of the hot tea on his skin but now he became aware of the wet stains on his shirt and trouser legs. Bugger.
It took him several heartbeats to muster the energy to get up and pretend he was fine – or at least alright. As he wandered off to draw himself a bath, he tried to remember if there was anything in those cardboard boxes that he didn't want Lindsey to find, dangerous grimoires, dark idols or embarrassing personal items maybe. Probably not, and if there were, he couldn't bring himself to care. He picked up a handful of books. "Hope you're a fast reader," he said and dumped the stack on Lindsey's bedside table. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Potter."
As he climbed into the bordello-red Jacuzzi to immerse himself in water that was almost too hot to bear, Ethan felt a hundred years old. A mirror hung from the ceiling, matching the one over the bed, but to Ethan's profound relief it was too steamed up to show his reflection. Ethan had no desire to inventory the million ways in which he'd aged over the past few years.
His eyelids grew heavy and his thoughts became sluggish and fractured. Lulled into a daze by heat, humidity and too many painkillers, Ethan drifted off into a restless, haunted slumber, dreaming of blindingly white walls trapping him, crushing and grinding him to powder like a dried clove in a mortar.
He woke in almost cold water, thrashing, and panting with dread. Fortunately, he found himself not in a standardized white hotel bathroom but in a pink and burgundy blasphemy, utterly tasteless but comforting in its garishness. Shivering he climbed out and toweled himself dry.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, Lindsey was gone, but there was a note on the bed. 'Food run' was all it said. Ethan slipped between the sheets and fell asleep.
He stirred a few times: once when the door opened and a smell of sweet and sour sauce and frying fat wafted into the room. Later, he woke again. The room was dark and quiet, except for the sound of even breathing. The dip of the matress told him there was another body lying less than an arm's length away.
A stray image drifted through Ethan's sleepy mind: Lying back-to-back, both facing away from each other, one young, one old, they had to look like a living representation of Janus.
He smiled, and this time, when he fell asleep, he dreamt of an infinite number of doors opening in front of him.
TBC
Erlier chapters are here. - Part 6a, Part 6b, Part 6c.
This was none of Rayne's business. If the old sorcerer thought he could play Hannibal Lecter and crawl into Lindsey's head, he had another thing coming.
"Because I make five times more money than he does. Better pension plan and dental care too," Lindsey lied, without batting an eyelid.
* * *
Rayne regarded his pupil. A big fat lie served with a straight face was like a door slammed into one's face, or a combination lock on a desk drawer. Both were supposed to say 'leave me alone' but sounded like 'this is where the goodies are' – at least to Ethan's ears.
His palms itched with the impulse to deftly pluck thoughts and images from behind those angry eyes, to gather them and reel them up like threads of wool, unraveling the lad's lies to slowly lay him bare. Nothing as fancy as a proper spell, mind you, no thorough rifling through Lindsey's memories, just a little peek, or maybe a nudge, to make him open up a little… easy as pie, as natural as breathing. A tingle tiptoed up Ethan's spine and his fingers twitched.
White screeching heat lashed out at him. The full mug slipped out of his fingers unheeded, as Ethan's entire body spasmed. For a frightening moment Ethan couldn't breathe. His hands flew to his temples. Eyes squeezed shut, palms pressed against his skull Ethan tried to fend off the blinding pain, swaying on his feet. His ability to breathe came back to him in short, frantic bursts.
"What is it?" Lindsey asked, and added mockingly: "No wait, let me guess: There's a great disturbance in the Force, Luke."
Just a warning shot, a cruel reminder of Ethan's current impotence that made his hands shake and his eyes burn with helpless rage. But not an average slap-on-the-wrist sized warning shot, but a king-sized, extra large, double shot, do-you-want-fries-with-that shocker. Or maybe it had just felt worse than usual, because it was less than 24 hours since his last zap-in-the-head.
"You okay?" He heard Lindsey ask.
A vicious migraine was setting up camp inside Ethan's head, so intense, he wanted to rub his eyes with his palms until his eyballs popped, just to chase the excruciating pain from of his skull. His flesh and bones were tingling with power, Itching as though a colony of ants was scuttling around underneath the skin, bent on escape. He was brimming with magic. The well was full, but he couldn't fucking tap into it. And there was no Rack to syphon the excess magic off. Ethan shook his head. No, he was not okay. Far from it.
"Migraine," he choked out, trying to slow down his breathing.
"You should see a doctor," Lindsey said with a frown.
Ethan took a few unsteady steps towards the bed and sank down on it. "Don't like doctors," he forced out between clenched teeth.
"What if it's some kind of tumor?"
Ethan shrugged. He could feel Lindsey's gaze resting on him but didn't look up. Instead, he massaged his temples with his thumbs.
After a few seconds Lindsey could be heard moving about the room, then something nudged Ethan's shoulder: A glass of water, followed by a bottle of painkillers, one of his own, from the look of it.
While Ethan swallowed his pills, Lindsey picked up the shards of the mug and silently cleared up the mess the spilt tea had made. Ethan hadn't even felt the burn of the hot tea on his skin but now he became aware of the wet stains on his shirt and trouser legs. Bugger.
It took him several heartbeats to muster the energy to get up and pretend he was fine – or at least alright. As he wandered off to draw himself a bath, he tried to remember if there was anything in those cardboard boxes that he didn't want Lindsey to find, dangerous grimoires, dark idols or embarrassing personal items maybe. Probably not, and if there were, he couldn't bring himself to care. He picked up a handful of books. "Hope you're a fast reader," he said and dumped the stack on Lindsey's bedside table. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Potter."
As he climbed into the bordello-red Jacuzzi to immerse himself in water that was almost too hot to bear, Ethan felt a hundred years old. A mirror hung from the ceiling, matching the one over the bed, but to Ethan's profound relief it was too steamed up to show his reflection. Ethan had no desire to inventory the million ways in which he'd aged over the past few years.
His eyelids grew heavy and his thoughts became sluggish and fractured. Lulled into a daze by heat, humidity and too many painkillers, Ethan drifted off into a restless, haunted slumber, dreaming of blindingly white walls trapping him, crushing and grinding him to powder like a dried clove in a mortar.
He woke in almost cold water, thrashing, and panting with dread. Fortunately, he found himself not in a standardized white hotel bathroom but in a pink and burgundy blasphemy, utterly tasteless but comforting in its garishness. Shivering he climbed out and toweled himself dry.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, Lindsey was gone, but there was a note on the bed. 'Food run' was all it said. Ethan slipped between the sheets and fell asleep.
He stirred a few times: once when the door opened and a smell of sweet and sour sauce and frying fat wafted into the room. Later, he woke again. The room was dark and quiet, except for the sound of even breathing. The dip of the matress told him there was another body lying less than an arm's length away.
A stray image drifted through Ethan's sleepy mind: Lying back-to-back, both facing away from each other, one young, one old, they had to look like a living representation of Janus.
He smiled, and this time, when he fell asleep, he dreamt of an infinite number of doors opening in front of him.
TBC
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no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 06:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 09:06 am (UTC)In my head the whole Initiative experience is traumatic for Ethan - not just because of the inabiltiy to use magic but also because of the helpnessness he must have felt. And the hopelessness. :-)
Dealing
Date: 2004-09-08 06:42 pm (UTC)Re: Dealing
Date: 2004-09-09 05:25 am (UTC)It's my little step-fic, because my regular readers are used to reading Spike/other character-stories from me. I'm therefore extremely happy about every reader.
If I were in it for the feedback I'd sit down and write some S/X (hey, I will do that anyhow), but this fic is dear to me. I'm glad you find the plot absorbing. *preens*
Thank you very very much for your kind feedback. :-)
Re: Dealing
Date: 2004-09-10 03:15 pm (UTC)