Teaser for "Our Fault"
Mar. 31st, 2005 09:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lls_mutantCrappy, crappy mood today. Just incredibly lonely- hubby is gone again for work- and hormones are making my mood swing pretty badly. Have you ever had one of those days where you just wanted to sulk all day?
So if I'm gonna be depressed, I'm gonna make everyone join me ;)
These two trailers here are from a fic tentitively entitled "Our Fault", which is Remus's bite from his parents' point of view. Well, actually, from Damien's point of view. I'm not really happy with the story yet, because I started writing it to get out of a bad case of writer's block and it reflects that in many spots. Choppy and very expository. Blech.
I'm also having problems deciding where the story ends. In DTF, Marilyn mentioned that at one point Remus had been chased by other children, and it took three days to find him. I'm wondering if that goes in this fic or goes in a second one, especially because a new dynamic starts developing. Moody starts getting involved, and a new Remus/Damien/Moody dynamic that is REALLY interesting starts coming into play. Hmmm.
Anyway, these are two segments I AM happy with, and since the whole thing will likely take a LONG time before it ever sees the light of day, enjoy! (Hah. Yeah right. These are depressing.)
“Well,” Healer Goldberg said, looking at Remus’s charts over his glasses. “Remus is going to live.” Damien fumbled for Marilyn’s hand and squeezed it in relief. “For now, anyway,” Goldberg finished. “It’s time to discuss options.”
“Options?” Marilyn said. “What options? He’s going to live, right?”
“Well, yes. But the wolf that bit your son was most definitely a werewolf, you know that, right?” Marilyn glanced at Damien, who nodded heavily. “The disease is contagious through the bite. Remus as you knew him is gone. Your son is no longer human.”
The blood drained from Marilyn’s face. “No longer human?” she croaked. “Well then, what is he?”
“He’s a werewolf,” the healer explained patiently. “Werewolves are not classified as humans by the Ministry.”
Marilyn began to cry.
Not a human. The words pounded through Damien’s head. Not a human. Being. Beast. Half-breed. Creature. Werewolf.
A tear coursed down his cheek, and he removed his spectacles to wipe it away. The sharp edges left the world and lines blurred, and soon he couldn’t see as the tears flooded his eyes.
In his mind, Remus was in his arms, his head fitting neatly into the palm of his hand-
-that first smile, the one that lit up amber eyes just like his own and made him laugh in response-
-fumbling first steps as Marilyn knelt behind him, and that collapse into his father’s arms, little hands clinging to him because he knew Damien would never, ever hurt him and he felt safe there-
-“Dada,” Remus declared one day when he came home from work. “Dada.” His chubby fingers had pointed right at Damien and he toddled into his father’s open arms-
-giggles at night when he tickled nightmares away, babyish voice growing clearer, asking question after question, why?
Why?
Why?
WHY?
“Maybe,” Goldberg said tiredly as Damien buried his face in his hands, “we should discuss options tomorrow.”
***
He walked. He left St. Mungo’s and stepped out into the hot humid streets of London and he walked.
He walked for blocks, for kilometers, for over an hour, hands in his pockets, limp unwashed hair falling down around his face as he repeated over and over to himself it would be for the best. But every time he said it, his heart believed it a little less.
He came back as the sun was setting, lighting the August sky with orange and violent red and slipped quietly into the hospital and then into the Dai Lleywellyn ward.
No one was with Remus right now. He sat down beside his son’s bedside and brushed back the damp fringe of brown hair to kiss his forehead gently.
“Daddy?” Remus’s eyes fluttered open.
“Yes, Remus?”
“Will you tell me a story?”
“Of course. What kind would you like?”
Remus hugged his teddy bear closer to him. “A happy one. One about Peanutbutter.”
Funny how the name of a teddy bear can affect you. Peanutbutter. It was such a silly, childish name given to the bear because he was a soft light brown and because, well, there was nothing that Remus liked better than a peanut butter and jam sandwich. It was the kind of thing only a child would ever come up with, like when Remus asked why Damien’s wand shot sparks when he held it, but not Mummy, and the long stories about magic bees, and… and howling like a werewolf in the living room just a few nights ago. This was still his child; nothing had taken Remus’s place. They eyes that looked at him were the same, trusting and loving and innocent even as they fluttered closed. The smile as he told about Peanutbutter’s adventures with a boy named Remus was tired and frail, but it was the one he knew, the one that had made him happier than he’d ever known a person could be. The fingers that wrapped around his hand were still the little plump fingers he’d slapped away from stolen cookies, patiently worked splinters out of, and… he huddled over, forehead against Remus’s chest. This was still his son.
There was a gentle, soft hand on his shoulder and he didn’t have to look to know it was Marilyn. Marilyn, who was hurting just as badly as he was now and who he’d left crying in Goldberg’s office. Marilyn, who believed in a woman’s right to chose but couldn’t rid herself of what she even then insisted was only a few cells, not a life inside her. Marilyn, who despite her degrees and her intelligence and her salary was lost right now, just as lost as he was. He covered her hand with his own.
“We won’t give him the potion, love. I promise.”
Even though it seems like they could, these two sections don't go one right after the other. Damien's family plays a large role in this story as well.
So if I'm gonna be depressed, I'm gonna make everyone join me ;)
These two trailers here are from a fic tentitively entitled "Our Fault", which is Remus's bite from his parents' point of view. Well, actually, from Damien's point of view. I'm not really happy with the story yet, because I started writing it to get out of a bad case of writer's block and it reflects that in many spots. Choppy and very expository. Blech.
I'm also having problems deciding where the story ends. In DTF, Marilyn mentioned that at one point Remus had been chased by other children, and it took three days to find him. I'm wondering if that goes in this fic or goes in a second one, especially because a new dynamic starts developing. Moody starts getting involved, and a new Remus/Damien/Moody dynamic that is REALLY interesting starts coming into play. Hmmm.
Anyway, these are two segments I AM happy with, and since the whole thing will likely take a LONG time before it ever sees the light of day, enjoy! (Hah. Yeah right. These are depressing.)
“Well,” Healer Goldberg said, looking at Remus’s charts over his glasses. “Remus is going to live.” Damien fumbled for Marilyn’s hand and squeezed it in relief. “For now, anyway,” Goldberg finished. “It’s time to discuss options.”
“Options?” Marilyn said. “What options? He’s going to live, right?”
“Well, yes. But the wolf that bit your son was most definitely a werewolf, you know that, right?” Marilyn glanced at Damien, who nodded heavily. “The disease is contagious through the bite. Remus as you knew him is gone. Your son is no longer human.”
The blood drained from Marilyn’s face. “No longer human?” she croaked. “Well then, what is he?”
“He’s a werewolf,” the healer explained patiently. “Werewolves are not classified as humans by the Ministry.”
Marilyn began to cry.
Not a human. The words pounded through Damien’s head. Not a human. Being. Beast. Half-breed. Creature. Werewolf.
A tear coursed down his cheek, and he removed his spectacles to wipe it away. The sharp edges left the world and lines blurred, and soon he couldn’t see as the tears flooded his eyes.
In his mind, Remus was in his arms, his head fitting neatly into the palm of his hand-
-that first smile, the one that lit up amber eyes just like his own and made him laugh in response-
-fumbling first steps as Marilyn knelt behind him, and that collapse into his father’s arms, little hands clinging to him because he knew Damien would never, ever hurt him and he felt safe there-
-“Dada,” Remus declared one day when he came home from work. “Dada.” His chubby fingers had pointed right at Damien and he toddled into his father’s open arms-
-giggles at night when he tickled nightmares away, babyish voice growing clearer, asking question after question, why?
Why?
Why?
WHY?
“Maybe,” Goldberg said tiredly as Damien buried his face in his hands, “we should discuss options tomorrow.”
***
He walked. He left St. Mungo’s and stepped out into the hot humid streets of London and he walked.
He walked for blocks, for kilometers, for over an hour, hands in his pockets, limp unwashed hair falling down around his face as he repeated over and over to himself it would be for the best. But every time he said it, his heart believed it a little less.
He came back as the sun was setting, lighting the August sky with orange and violent red and slipped quietly into the hospital and then into the Dai Lleywellyn ward.
No one was with Remus right now. He sat down beside his son’s bedside and brushed back the damp fringe of brown hair to kiss his forehead gently.
“Daddy?” Remus’s eyes fluttered open.
“Yes, Remus?”
“Will you tell me a story?”
“Of course. What kind would you like?”
Remus hugged his teddy bear closer to him. “A happy one. One about Peanutbutter.”
Funny how the name of a teddy bear can affect you. Peanutbutter. It was such a silly, childish name given to the bear because he was a soft light brown and because, well, there was nothing that Remus liked better than a peanut butter and jam sandwich. It was the kind of thing only a child would ever come up with, like when Remus asked why Damien’s wand shot sparks when he held it, but not Mummy, and the long stories about magic bees, and… and howling like a werewolf in the living room just a few nights ago. This was still his child; nothing had taken Remus’s place. They eyes that looked at him were the same, trusting and loving and innocent even as they fluttered closed. The smile as he told about Peanutbutter’s adventures with a boy named Remus was tired and frail, but it was the one he knew, the one that had made him happier than he’d ever known a person could be. The fingers that wrapped around his hand were still the little plump fingers he’d slapped away from stolen cookies, patiently worked splinters out of, and… he huddled over, forehead against Remus’s chest. This was still his son.
There was a gentle, soft hand on his shoulder and he didn’t have to look to know it was Marilyn. Marilyn, who was hurting just as badly as he was now and who he’d left crying in Goldberg’s office. Marilyn, who believed in a woman’s right to chose but couldn’t rid herself of what she even then insisted was only a few cells, not a life inside her. Marilyn, who despite her degrees and her intelligence and her salary was lost right now, just as lost as he was. He covered her hand with his own.
“We won’t give him the potion, love. I promise.”
Even though it seems like they could, these two sections don't go one right after the other. Damien's family plays a large role in this story as well.
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Date: 2005-04-01 04:00 pm (UTC)I'm hoping I'll actually get this one off my puter soon. I have to finish the one-shot for the Wolfstar exchange and AIL 6 (which is happy! hear me? happy! Well, mostly), but then I really want to get this sucker done.
::Sigh::
Thanks again!