FIC: Dealing 8c/10 (Ethan/Lindsey)
Dec. 1st, 2004 11:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
estepheiaThis is only a short chunk. The next one will be longer. Many thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sangpassionne for taking a gander, and to everybody who left feedback for previous chapters. If I thought nobody was reading this I might have long ago broken this story's legs and abandoned it in a remote desert without water or food.
Ethan/Lindsey - NC-17 - slash
Chapters 1-7 are here. 8a is here. 8b is here
Previously:
"Why me?" Lindsey asked, keeping the pills out of Ethan's reach. "Why take on an apprentice? Why not go to a healer, to someone who knows what to do?"
"Janus," Ethan said. "Not too popular among healers."
Lindsey pondered this. "We'll do my locator spell first, and then we'll do your healing spell."
"Or what?"
"Or the deal is off," Lindsey said.
"You drive a hard bargain, son."
"You ain't seen nothing yet," Lindsey said. "Deal?"
"Deal."
Part 8c - Shine
With infuriating slowness, Lindsey dropped the meds in Ethan's palm, one by one, and when he offered the glass of water it was with an exaggerated bow. Afterwards he treated Ethan's hand. The makeshift bandage didn't exactly look hospital issue, but at least it staunched the blood flow. And if Lindsey's bedside manners left a lot to be desired, well, Ethan had learned to put up with a little discomfort. What he found much harder to stomach was the smugness with which Lindsey carried himself. Snotty little bastard.
He watched Lindsey saunter towards the table and study the glass of paint without touching it. The liquid was still steaming.
"It'll need about an hour to cool," Ethan said, trying to sound cheerful and alert. "Why don't you go and get us some sandwiches for later."
Lindsey gave him a hard stare, but he snatched up the room key. "If you want anything in particular, now's the time to say so."
"Surprise me." Ethan said, plastering a suggestive grin on his face.
Lindsey shrugged, but he left, Janus be thanked.
The instant the door fell into the lock, Ethan collapsed on the bed. His heart was pounding erratically in his chest, causing his whole body to thrum with an excruciating mixture of pain and need.
He would have liked nothing better than to quickly jerk off and roll over for a nap, but the chip's electric charge had left him limp, and the pain that racked his body was not the kind he got off on. Just sleep, then.
Ethan crawled under the covers, and closed his eyes, but sleep stayed out of reach. His heart refused to slow down and the lump in his throat made it hard to breathe. It took Ethan several minutes to identify the feeling as cold dread.
For all his inborn magical aptitude, Ethan had never been much of a seer. The two long years he'd served as an Initiative lab rat had been the worst of his life, yet he'd received no prior warning, not even the tiniest twinge of apprehension. Not that he would have listened anyway. As a follower of Janus he scarcely paid attention to omens or prophecies. Where was the fun, if one knew what lay ahead? Prophecies were only good for one thing: to be foiled as spectacularly as possible, no matter which side they favored.
However, some omens were harder to ignore than others.
About a year ago, a similar dread had slowly seeped first into Ethan's dreams and then into his waking hours. hellish images of blood and gore and unspeakable torture – more nihilistic than even a dedicated son of chaos could stomach.
The demons had felt it too. The whole prison had erupted into chaos, when, one by one they'd started howling in terror or mindless blood lust. Even before the chant had leapt like wildfire from cell to cell, Ethan had known the name behind the chaos: Glorificus.
Then, after three days of pandemonium, at the crack of dawn, the uproar had died down, as suddenly as it had started. Ethan had never found out how the Beast had been stopped, but that morning, when the gut-churning apprehension disappeared, he'd known, deep in his bones, that the world had only just scraped past a genuine apocalypse. And he'd laughed.
And now? The same sense of foreboding hung in the air like a bleak chill. As he lay there, trying to unlock his cramped muscles and control his breathing, Ethan wondered how much time the earth had left. Right now, all over the globe, psychics had to be aware of something brewing, of destiny taking a turn for the worse.
The shockwave came sooner than anticipated: In the near distance, only a few hundred miles away, searing rage flared up like a beacon, powerful enough to punch a hole into the very fabric of the universe. Ethan cursed. Who'd be stupid enough to call directly upon the gods without the proper protocols and precautions? Fucking rank amateurs!
TBC (soon)
sangpassionne for taking a gander, and to everybody who left feedback for previous chapters. If I thought nobody was reading this I might have long ago broken this story's legs and abandoned it in a remote desert without water or food.Ethan/Lindsey - NC-17 - slash
Chapters 1-7 are here. 8a is here. 8b is here
Previously:
"Why me?" Lindsey asked, keeping the pills out of Ethan's reach. "Why take on an apprentice? Why not go to a healer, to someone who knows what to do?"
"Janus," Ethan said. "Not too popular among healers."
Lindsey pondered this. "We'll do my locator spell first, and then we'll do your healing spell."
"Or what?"
"Or the deal is off," Lindsey said.
"You drive a hard bargain, son."
"You ain't seen nothing yet," Lindsey said. "Deal?"
"Deal."
Part 8c - Shine
With infuriating slowness, Lindsey dropped the meds in Ethan's palm, one by one, and when he offered the glass of water it was with an exaggerated bow. Afterwards he treated Ethan's hand. The makeshift bandage didn't exactly look hospital issue, but at least it staunched the blood flow. And if Lindsey's bedside manners left a lot to be desired, well, Ethan had learned to put up with a little discomfort. What he found much harder to stomach was the smugness with which Lindsey carried himself. Snotty little bastard.
He watched Lindsey saunter towards the table and study the glass of paint without touching it. The liquid was still steaming.
"It'll need about an hour to cool," Ethan said, trying to sound cheerful and alert. "Why don't you go and get us some sandwiches for later."
Lindsey gave him a hard stare, but he snatched up the room key. "If you want anything in particular, now's the time to say so."
"Surprise me." Ethan said, plastering a suggestive grin on his face.
Lindsey shrugged, but he left, Janus be thanked.
The instant the door fell into the lock, Ethan collapsed on the bed. His heart was pounding erratically in his chest, causing his whole body to thrum with an excruciating mixture of pain and need.
He would have liked nothing better than to quickly jerk off and roll over for a nap, but the chip's electric charge had left him limp, and the pain that racked his body was not the kind he got off on. Just sleep, then.
Ethan crawled under the covers, and closed his eyes, but sleep stayed out of reach. His heart refused to slow down and the lump in his throat made it hard to breathe. It took Ethan several minutes to identify the feeling as cold dread.
For all his inborn magical aptitude, Ethan had never been much of a seer. The two long years he'd served as an Initiative lab rat had been the worst of his life, yet he'd received no prior warning, not even the tiniest twinge of apprehension. Not that he would have listened anyway. As a follower of Janus he scarcely paid attention to omens or prophecies. Where was the fun, if one knew what lay ahead? Prophecies were only good for one thing: to be foiled as spectacularly as possible, no matter which side they favored.
However, some omens were harder to ignore than others.
About a year ago, a similar dread had slowly seeped first into Ethan's dreams and then into his waking hours. hellish images of blood and gore and unspeakable torture – more nihilistic than even a dedicated son of chaos could stomach.
The demons had felt it too. The whole prison had erupted into chaos, when, one by one they'd started howling in terror or mindless blood lust. Even before the chant had leapt like wildfire from cell to cell, Ethan had known the name behind the chaos: Glorificus.
Then, after three days of pandemonium, at the crack of dawn, the uproar had died down, as suddenly as it had started. Ethan had never found out how the Beast had been stopped, but that morning, when the gut-churning apprehension disappeared, he'd known, deep in his bones, that the world had only just scraped past a genuine apocalypse. And he'd laughed.
And now? The same sense of foreboding hung in the air like a bleak chill. As he lay there, trying to unlock his cramped muscles and control his breathing, Ethan wondered how much time the earth had left. Right now, all over the globe, psychics had to be aware of something brewing, of destiny taking a turn for the worse.
The shockwave came sooner than anticipated: In the near distance, only a few hundred miles away, searing rage flared up like a beacon, powerful enough to punch a hole into the very fabric of the universe. Ethan cursed. Who'd be stupid enough to call directly upon the gods without the proper protocols and precautions? Fucking rank amateurs!
TBC (soon)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 02:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 02:46 am (UTC)Tune in next time to find out what the new apocalypse is!
no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 02:58 am (UTC)Thank you. I know that there are quite a few hooked readers, so no, I won't stop, but sometimes that knowledge is all that keeps me going. I like writing this story (most of the time), but sometimes it leaves me deeply dissatisfied with myself. ;-)
no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 03:22 am (UTC)I am happy if I managed to convey a sense of the shit soon hitting the proverbial fan. :-)
It's difficult writing only for one's own pleasure. Pleasure gets you started but it doesn't necessarily keep you going when the road blocks hit. ;-)
But, as I said before, the ending is written. It's just a matter of getting there in a plausible manner. :-)
*grits teeth and looks determined*
no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 06:44 pm (UTC)So does the rank amateur by any chance brood a lot?
no subject
Date: 2004-12-02 02:08 am (UTC)Nope, the amateur is very very angry, right now. And she's about to boil over.
:-)
I just posted the next part, and that's a bit more than a mere appetizer. At least I hope so.