more Crusilla fic - final chapter
May. 11th, 2005 04:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stoney321Hey, campers! I'm nervous about this last piece, so be gentle. I'll take concrit (but would prefer it in email, as I'm a wuss today.) For those reading for the first time: not shippy. Character study, character dynamics. Work safe. But Dru is a tricksy one.
So. First part here
Second part here
and
Family - The Ties That Bind
Author: Stoney321, beta'd by Crazydiamondsue
Disclaimer: I don't own, make money, or have dinner with the characters from Joss' playpen. I do have coffee with them, but that's between me and my lord.
Rating: It's clean, but Dru can be scary. Don't read this to three year olds. No squicks.
Summary: Set between Season 3 and 4 of AtS. How Connor filled his time while "searching" for his dad. And who found him.
*~*~*~
Part Three
It was becoming more and more difficult for Connor to slip out of the Hyperion without raising suspicion. Connor expected it would be Gunn who finally caught him at his secret meetings, but Fred saw far more than Gunn ever would. Fortunately, her soft spot for Connor having been lost like she once was went a long way to quelling her suspicions. It was hard for the boy to not be smug with a job accomplished. He would cause a fight, pretend to be upset about the lack of leads on his "father," and storm out of the hotel, barely able to hold in his grin as he walked through the door.
As the summer wore on, he looked Fred in the eye less and less. But he had to see Her. They didn't talk much. Usually, when his sister talked, it made very little sense to him. He didn't understand her songs, or her references to tales peculiar to this world. However, her voice was soothing to him. Even though her lullabies were confusing in their context, the sentiment behind them was not.
Tonight, he sat at her feet in the abandoned shed, his head in her lap, arms loosely circling her ankles. She stroked his fine, brown hair, tickled his face with her long fingernails, and told him tales of Daddy.
"So much evil. Everything he touches becomes evil, doesn't it? Am I evil?" Connor muffled his voice in the folds of her skirt.
"No. Not yet. Oh, he was so wicked, my love. And Daddy always savored his meals. A gentleman with table manners, he was. He always took from the right, and passed on the left. And ladies first... But Mummy- Mummy would have liked you best."
Drusilla walked her fingertips over his skull, then raked his hair back from his face. Connor dug his cheek firmly into her lap. His hands tightened for a brief moment on her thin ankle.
"Mummy would have loved how you were taken from Angelus. How you came back wanting to kill him."
"I... I thought Darla was good when I was born? That she... sacrificed herself."
"That wasn't the real Mummy. But yes, she did. So many sacrifices for you, my Connor. So much upheaval at your birth, at your death."
"Drusilla. I'm right here. I'm not dead."
"You will be. And it will be glorious."
He knew she claimed to see the future. She had said enough truth mixed in with her nursery tales and songs for him to recognize what was - would be, he corrected - true.
"Can you," he broke off, rubbing his eyes on the thin cotton material covering her knee, "do you see how?" A deep breath to steady himself. He was a warrior, after all, and expected to die fighting. "Am I in battle?"
"Yes. You are wrapped in unmade fire, women and children screaming in fear around you. You've killed an innocent. And you don't care."
Drusilla hums, and lays her head on her brother's hair.
"I would never kill an innocent person." He pulls away from her and puts his back against the opposite wall and feels the hateful scowl settle on his face.
"Tsk tsk. Never say never. And one day, you'll deny me three times."
He knew it was another reference to something particular in this world. He sat still, head back against the wall, and reassessed his sister.
"Poor brother. Hanging there with a dagger in your side. You won't have wailing women to wash your feet with oil, nor dry you with their hair. You'll be left to hang with the other sinners and cry out to your father who hast forsaken thee. And you so badly want to make a grand BANG!" Drusilla clapped her hands together and jumped to her feet.
She spun and whirled down into a crouch before Connor. He made fists of his hands at his side. She jabbed a sharp nail into his side.
"I wonder, does it bleed? Tut tut, little dove. I don't want to hurt you. Oh, I want to eat you all up, but you aren't for my dinner, are you?"
She stood and looked down into his face; her eyes knew all of his secrets to come. She held out her hand to him and pulled him to his feet. She put one of his hands about her waist, the other in her hand and stood straight.
"Come, come. Follow me. One, two, three, One, two, three..."
Awkwardly, he began to move, but he was a quick learner and sure of foot. She laughed when she felt him take the lead.
"The little dog laughed to see such a sport, and the dish ran away with the spoon!" She stopped suddenly, shaking her hands to push him back, away from her. Her voice trembled. "No, no. We can't run away, can we? It will be so much worse if I take you, and he'll know. And it isn't for you to come. You must stay here and have your medicine. Besides, winter is almost upon us."
"It's August."
"Yes, my Connor, but he's located Daddy."
*~*~*~*~
They didn't say goodbye. They didn't make plans to meet again; they never did. He would feel the need for her, and he would simply come to her. Or, he would feel her mind slipping and she would become silent, that was his signal to leave. This time, he stood in the doorway longer than usual. He knew he wouldn't be coming back.
"I remember what you wanted me to say. The lines you taught me.
Curly locks, Curly locks, wilt thou be mine?
Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine;
But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam,
And feed upon strawberries, sugar and cream."
His last vision of Drusilla was her laughing, dancing a small jig with her skirts pulled up slightly in her hands. She giggled and bowed at him, then waggled her fingers in a goodbye.
*~*~*~*~
She doesn't want to hear anymore. She doesn't want to know about her brother. She doesn't want to hear that he will forget her when Daddy plays his lawyer tricks. That he'll not remember his sister, not remember that someone loves him simply because he is himself. He will become a shadow, scented with sunshine and puppies and pink girls bouncing, but never being touched. That one day he'll remember everything and be broken like her. She doesn't want me to See anymore, so to stop my mouth, she covers my eyes with the red ribbon, sets me on her lap, and wraps my silken filaments about her finger and smoothes my white dress. I'm silent. For now.
So. First part here
Second part here
and
Family - The Ties That Bind
Author: Stoney321, beta'd by Crazydiamondsue
Disclaimer: I don't own, make money, or have dinner with the characters from Joss' playpen. I do have coffee with them, but that's between me and my lord.
Rating: It's clean, but Dru can be scary. Don't read this to three year olds. No squicks.
Summary: Set between Season 3 and 4 of AtS. How Connor filled his time while "searching" for his dad. And who found him.
*~*~*~
Part Three
It was becoming more and more difficult for Connor to slip out of the Hyperion without raising suspicion. Connor expected it would be Gunn who finally caught him at his secret meetings, but Fred saw far more than Gunn ever would. Fortunately, her soft spot for Connor having been lost like she once was went a long way to quelling her suspicions. It was hard for the boy to not be smug with a job accomplished. He would cause a fight, pretend to be upset about the lack of leads on his "father," and storm out of the hotel, barely able to hold in his grin as he walked through the door.
As the summer wore on, he looked Fred in the eye less and less. But he had to see Her. They didn't talk much. Usually, when his sister talked, it made very little sense to him. He didn't understand her songs, or her references to tales peculiar to this world. However, her voice was soothing to him. Even though her lullabies were confusing in their context, the sentiment behind them was not.
Tonight, he sat at her feet in the abandoned shed, his head in her lap, arms loosely circling her ankles. She stroked his fine, brown hair, tickled his face with her long fingernails, and told him tales of Daddy.
"So much evil. Everything he touches becomes evil, doesn't it? Am I evil?" Connor muffled his voice in the folds of her skirt.
"No. Not yet. Oh, he was so wicked, my love. And Daddy always savored his meals. A gentleman with table manners, he was. He always took from the right, and passed on the left. And ladies first... But Mummy- Mummy would have liked you best."
Drusilla walked her fingertips over his skull, then raked his hair back from his face. Connor dug his cheek firmly into her lap. His hands tightened for a brief moment on her thin ankle.
"Mummy would have loved how you were taken from Angelus. How you came back wanting to kill him."
"I... I thought Darla was good when I was born? That she... sacrificed herself."
"That wasn't the real Mummy. But yes, she did. So many sacrifices for you, my Connor. So much upheaval at your birth, at your death."
"Drusilla. I'm right here. I'm not dead."
"You will be. And it will be glorious."
He knew she claimed to see the future. She had said enough truth mixed in with her nursery tales and songs for him to recognize what was - would be, he corrected - true.
"Can you," he broke off, rubbing his eyes on the thin cotton material covering her knee, "do you see how?" A deep breath to steady himself. He was a warrior, after all, and expected to die fighting. "Am I in battle?"
"Yes. You are wrapped in unmade fire, women and children screaming in fear around you. You've killed an innocent. And you don't care."
Drusilla hums, and lays her head on her brother's hair.
"I would never kill an innocent person." He pulls away from her and puts his back against the opposite wall and feels the hateful scowl settle on his face.
"Tsk tsk. Never say never. And one day, you'll deny me three times."
He knew it was another reference to something particular in this world. He sat still, head back against the wall, and reassessed his sister.
"Poor brother. Hanging there with a dagger in your side. You won't have wailing women to wash your feet with oil, nor dry you with their hair. You'll be left to hang with the other sinners and cry out to your father who hast forsaken thee. And you so badly want to make a grand BANG!" Drusilla clapped her hands together and jumped to her feet.
She spun and whirled down into a crouch before Connor. He made fists of his hands at his side. She jabbed a sharp nail into his side.
"I wonder, does it bleed? Tut tut, little dove. I don't want to hurt you. Oh, I want to eat you all up, but you aren't for my dinner, are you?"
She stood and looked down into his face; her eyes knew all of his secrets to come. She held out her hand to him and pulled him to his feet. She put one of his hands about her waist, the other in her hand and stood straight.
"Come, come. Follow me. One, two, three, One, two, three..."
Awkwardly, he began to move, but he was a quick learner and sure of foot. She laughed when she felt him take the lead.
"The little dog laughed to see such a sport, and the dish ran away with the spoon!" She stopped suddenly, shaking her hands to push him back, away from her. Her voice trembled. "No, no. We can't run away, can we? It will be so much worse if I take you, and he'll know. And it isn't for you to come. You must stay here and have your medicine. Besides, winter is almost upon us."
"It's August."
"Yes, my Connor, but he's located Daddy."
*~*~*~*~
They didn't say goodbye. They didn't make plans to meet again; they never did. He would feel the need for her, and he would simply come to her. Or, he would feel her mind slipping and she would become silent, that was his signal to leave. This time, he stood in the doorway longer than usual. He knew he wouldn't be coming back.
"I remember what you wanted me to say. The lines you taught me.
Curly locks, Curly locks, wilt thou be mine?
Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine;
But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam,
And feed upon strawberries, sugar and cream."
His last vision of Drusilla was her laughing, dancing a small jig with her skirts pulled up slightly in her hands. She giggled and bowed at him, then waggled her fingers in a goodbye.
*~*~*~*~
She doesn't want to hear anymore. She doesn't want to know about her brother. She doesn't want to hear that he will forget her when Daddy plays his lawyer tricks. That he'll not remember his sister, not remember that someone loves him simply because he is himself. He will become a shadow, scented with sunshine and puppies and pink girls bouncing, but never being touched. That one day he'll remember everything and be broken like her. She doesn't want me to See anymore, so to stop my mouth, she covers my eyes with the red ribbon, sets me on her lap, and wraps my silken filaments about her finger and smoothes my white dress. I'm silent. For now.
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no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 11:00 am (UTC)Your Drusilla voice is perfect, all over the place. Just enough crazy, but also poetical and sense-making. Bravo. The way you describe her movements, too--her head turning and her body following, you capture what makes me fall in love with JL every damn time I see her play Dru. Capturing nuance of movement like that is hard to do, and I really applaud you.
It's funny, because somehow I didn't get it from the title, but I'd never thought of Connor,Drusilla parallels before either, just as I'd never thought about Connor,Fred parallels, until last night, I was lying in bed, and I was working out this Connor fic I want to write, and I was thinking about Triptych (sp?) and then I was like OMG DRUSILLA(, and or /)CONNOR. And lo, you've written it.
I love how you weave all this together--from the opening and closing bits, which seem to me to set up Drusilla story-telling inside her head, to how you use family definitions to give Dru and Connor something that actually feels almost ... normal, which is scary in a way, a kind of friendship/kinship that's so twisted and wrong it's the straightest answer Connor can get. Loved the little dialogue bit about "you really don't have reflections, do you"--because, of course, Connor is a reflection of so much, and they only have to look into his face to see it.
This is achingly beautiful, everything from the deeper meanings to the language you use. I have no con crit to offer. Thanks for this fic.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 11:08 am (UTC)You have NO idea how much that means to me - your kind words. This was one of those stories I ached over, getting it out, trying to say what I needed to say about the two of them. And this is also one of the ones that not a lot of people read - because of Connor? Because people don't trust that I wouldn't slip in a silly joke or something? Never know.
Once I thought of the two of them together, I realized that a HUGE opportunity had been missed by ME, in my opinion. They are both so perfectly broken, so needing of love, and both so dangerous.
Thanks so much, Joy.