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crack_van2011-10-01 09:29 am
merentha13.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2011-10-01 09:29 am
Entry tags:
Calibre by JGL (Adult)
Fandom: THE PROFESSIONALS
Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Length: ~42500 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jgraeme2007
Author’s stories: Automated Hatstand; The Circuit Archive
Why this must be read: action, angst, heartbreaking emotion and a first time story
Hi! Marti here, and it’s my turn to drive the van. Be warned, I have absolutely no sense of direction, so these recs are going to be all over the map…hopefully we won’t get lost! Funny thing, Krisser is handing off the keys at just the spot I’d planned to start my drive – with a story by JGL!
First up is a story from my favorite Pro’s writer JGL. “Calibre” takes place post “Discovered in a Graveyard”. It’s a story of two hard men whose world is rocked by Doyle’s brush with death, their confused feelings for each other and issues of trust and betrayal. It is also a story of friendship and support. What makes it stand out is JGL’s amazing ability to set a scene, or a mood, or describe a character’s emotions with just a few well chosen words.
The first shock—the worst shock—had been spying Doyle’s motionless boots through the open window of his flat. That graceless, broken sprawl—the tangle of lifeless limbs, the glazed and dying eyes.
But Doyle hadn’t been lifeless. He hadn’t died. He’d lain there white and stricken and panting while Bodie did the necessary. Somehow he’d hung on, slipping in and out of consciousness, after Bodie got back from radioing for the ambulance. Doyle’s gaze, pupils black and huge in his dull eyes, had fixed
on Bodie’s face while Bodie talked to him, tried to anchor him. Bodie had held his hand in the flat and
later in the ambulance: Doyle’s cold, lax fingers twitching in his own—nothing like Doyle’s usual hard, forceful grip. Bodie had held tight, as though he could physically restrain Doyle from slipping into the encroaching dark.
Doyle was a scrapper. He was tough and savvy and resilient. He’d fight ’til he dropped. He’d argue ’til
the last breath. He probably argued with himself when there was no one else around. So to simply . . . give up.
Unbelievable. But that’s what the surgeon had said. What Cowley’d said. That Doyle wasn’t trying. Wasn’t fighting.
True, in the end he’d apparently decided to live, contrary sod that he was. Probably due to the fact that everyone expected him to die. You’d think that a bloke as brilliant as Doyle would come up with a better idea than packing it in. All those ideas whizzing around in that untidy head and his solution was to die quietly on an operating table?
The story is filled with angst. JGL’s writing makes the reader feel the pain along with the characters.
Bodie hit record. Said crisply, “Interview with former CI5 agent, Raymond Doyle, November the T—”
And astonishingly enough, that was the breaking point.
Doyle surged to his feet, knocking over his chair. Hands braced on the table, shaking, he leaned forward. “You stupid sonofabitch, Bodie. You’re the traitor. You’re the one who’s betrayed everything that matters. Everything between us.”
And Bodie rose too. “Siddown, Doyle, or I’ll knock you down. So help me.”
“Do it. Try it,” Doyle shouted, his face ugly with rage. Little flecks of spit hit Bodie’s face. “C’mon!”
The bull in Bodie charged. He was around the table and on top of Doyle in two steps, hands grabbing sharp shoulders, his foot kicking away Doyle’s supporting stance —but there was no resistance from Doyle. That was the terrible part of it. It was like knocking down a child; Doyle’s anger and energy made it easy to forget how frail he still was.
Bodie caught him before he hit the floor, easing him down to the carpet.
“Doyle? Ray—”
Almost at once he was twitching back to life, eyelids fluttering open, eyes dark and dazed. He blinked up at Bodie and there was no defence there.
“How can you believe it, Bodie?”
Bodie’s mouth worked. He didn’t have an answer to that pained question.
“How could you do this?” Doyle asked bewilderedly.
It’s a very tense story, but the lads bantering finds its way into the narrative and this except is a terrific example of how well JGL captured the ‘canon’ lads. I can see the two of them in this little scene.
“About that,” Doyle said awkwardly. He was not good at asking for help. “Need to wash my hair.” At Bodie’s expression he grimaced. “Could do it myself but . . . ”
“Oh, no,” Bodie said quickly. “No free diving without a buddy.” Which is how one hour later CI5’s finest wound up wrestling half-naked over the kitchen sink.
“Would be easier on my own,” Doyle yelled ungratefully, trying to push Bodie’s hand away, and getting a faceful of sudsy tap water for his trouble.
“If you’d stop wriggling like a blinkin’ eel—”
“You’re pouring the bloody shampoo in my eyes,” Doyle yowled. Granted, he was in a fair amount of pain, having seriously miscalculated—again—how weak he was and how much it would hurt to bend over the sink basin. It was dismaying to realise that he did indeed need help for something as simple as this. His ribs were hurting, his incisions were hurting, and the dried bath oil wasn’t washing out easily.
“What a fuss over a few bubbles.”
Doyle coughed, spluttering, “—more than capable of drowning meself, thanks.”
“Why should you have all the fun? Anyway, if you’d stop splashing about, we’d be finished here and I could start bailing out the kitchen.”
At that point Doyle’s knees gave out, and the only thing keeping him upright was Bodie’s powerful arm around his waist. He began to swear in bitter earnest.
“All right, Undine,” Bodie muttered. Keeping one arm wrapped around Doyle’s skinny waist, he began to massage his scalp, long fingers gently parting the sodden mass of tangles, letting the water rinse away the shampoo. Doyle fell silent.
Bodie couldn’t see his face, but he could feel the warm rise and fall of Doyle’s flanks—Doyle shaking a little with pain and his exertions, clamping both hands on the rim of the sink and hanging on, silent while Bodie finished washing his hair for him.
JGLs story is an emotional rollercoaster, a thrill ride of the highest calibre, looping through hurt, pain, despair, betrayal, and forgiveness, hope, healing and love. I think you’ll really enjoy the ride!
Calibre
Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Length: ~42500 words
Author on LJ:
jgraeme2007Author’s stories: Automated Hatstand; The Circuit Archive
Why this must be read: action, angst, heartbreaking emotion and a first time story
Hi! Marti here, and it’s my turn to drive the van. Be warned, I have absolutely no sense of direction, so these recs are going to be all over the map…hopefully we won’t get lost! Funny thing, Krisser is handing off the keys at just the spot I’d planned to start my drive – with a story by JGL!
First up is a story from my favorite Pro’s writer JGL. “Calibre” takes place post “Discovered in a Graveyard”. It’s a story of two hard men whose world is rocked by Doyle’s brush with death, their confused feelings for each other and issues of trust and betrayal. It is also a story of friendship and support. What makes it stand out is JGL’s amazing ability to set a scene, or a mood, or describe a character’s emotions with just a few well chosen words.
The first shock—the worst shock—had been spying Doyle’s motionless boots through the open window of his flat. That graceless, broken sprawl—the tangle of lifeless limbs, the glazed and dying eyes.
But Doyle hadn’t been lifeless. He hadn’t died. He’d lain there white and stricken and panting while Bodie did the necessary. Somehow he’d hung on, slipping in and out of consciousness, after Bodie got back from radioing for the ambulance. Doyle’s gaze, pupils black and huge in his dull eyes, had fixed
on Bodie’s face while Bodie talked to him, tried to anchor him. Bodie had held his hand in the flat and
later in the ambulance: Doyle’s cold, lax fingers twitching in his own—nothing like Doyle’s usual hard, forceful grip. Bodie had held tight, as though he could physically restrain Doyle from slipping into the encroaching dark.
Doyle was a scrapper. He was tough and savvy and resilient. He’d fight ’til he dropped. He’d argue ’til
the last breath. He probably argued with himself when there was no one else around. So to simply . . . give up.
Unbelievable. But that’s what the surgeon had said. What Cowley’d said. That Doyle wasn’t trying. Wasn’t fighting.
True, in the end he’d apparently decided to live, contrary sod that he was. Probably due to the fact that everyone expected him to die. You’d think that a bloke as brilliant as Doyle would come up with a better idea than packing it in. All those ideas whizzing around in that untidy head and his solution was to die quietly on an operating table?
The story is filled with angst. JGL’s writing makes the reader feel the pain along with the characters.
Bodie hit record. Said crisply, “Interview with former CI5 agent, Raymond Doyle, November the T—”
And astonishingly enough, that was the breaking point.
Doyle surged to his feet, knocking over his chair. Hands braced on the table, shaking, he leaned forward. “You stupid sonofabitch, Bodie. You’re the traitor. You’re the one who’s betrayed everything that matters. Everything between us.”
And Bodie rose too. “Siddown, Doyle, or I’ll knock you down. So help me.”
“Do it. Try it,” Doyle shouted, his face ugly with rage. Little flecks of spit hit Bodie’s face. “C’mon!”
The bull in Bodie charged. He was around the table and on top of Doyle in two steps, hands grabbing sharp shoulders, his foot kicking away Doyle’s supporting stance —but there was no resistance from Doyle. That was the terrible part of it. It was like knocking down a child; Doyle’s anger and energy made it easy to forget how frail he still was.
Bodie caught him before he hit the floor, easing him down to the carpet.
“Doyle? Ray—”
Almost at once he was twitching back to life, eyelids fluttering open, eyes dark and dazed. He blinked up at Bodie and there was no defence there.
“How can you believe it, Bodie?”
Bodie’s mouth worked. He didn’t have an answer to that pained question.
“How could you do this?” Doyle asked bewilderedly.
It’s a very tense story, but the lads bantering finds its way into the narrative and this except is a terrific example of how well JGL captured the ‘canon’ lads. I can see the two of them in this little scene.
“About that,” Doyle said awkwardly. He was not good at asking for help. “Need to wash my hair.” At Bodie’s expression he grimaced. “Could do it myself but . . . ”
“Oh, no,” Bodie said quickly. “No free diving without a buddy.” Which is how one hour later CI5’s finest wound up wrestling half-naked over the kitchen sink.
“Would be easier on my own,” Doyle yelled ungratefully, trying to push Bodie’s hand away, and getting a faceful of sudsy tap water for his trouble.
“If you’d stop wriggling like a blinkin’ eel—”
“You’re pouring the bloody shampoo in my eyes,” Doyle yowled. Granted, he was in a fair amount of pain, having seriously miscalculated—again—how weak he was and how much it would hurt to bend over the sink basin. It was dismaying to realise that he did indeed need help for something as simple as this. His ribs were hurting, his incisions were hurting, and the dried bath oil wasn’t washing out easily.
“What a fuss over a few bubbles.”
Doyle coughed, spluttering, “—more than capable of drowning meself, thanks.”
“Why should you have all the fun? Anyway, if you’d stop splashing about, we’d be finished here and I could start bailing out the kitchen.”
At that point Doyle’s knees gave out, and the only thing keeping him upright was Bodie’s powerful arm around his waist. He began to swear in bitter earnest.
“All right, Undine,” Bodie muttered. Keeping one arm wrapped around Doyle’s skinny waist, he began to massage his scalp, long fingers gently parting the sodden mass of tangles, letting the water rinse away the shampoo. Doyle fell silent.
Bodie couldn’t see his face, but he could feel the warm rise and fall of Doyle’s flanks—Doyle shaking a little with pain and his exertions, clamping both hands on the rim of the sink and hanging on, silent while Bodie finished washing his hair for him.
JGLs story is an emotional rollercoaster, a thrill ride of the highest calibre, looping through hurt, pain, despair, betrayal, and forgiveness, hope, healing and love. I think you’ll really enjoy the ride!
Calibre
no subject
I don't think your story link is working correctly.
This should do it:
<*a href="http://hatstandfic.net/viewstory.php?sid=839">Calibre<*/a>
Just remove the two asterisks when you edit to add it to your entry.
no subject
The link worked fine when I previewed my lj page. I don't know why it disappeared in the crackvan post.
I can't find the little buttons that will let me edit or delete my post.
I sent in a help request, but I don't know how fast they will respond
this is why some people should never be allowed near a computer! *g*
no subject
Look at the top of the entry? See the little bar with the illustrations of like a heart and a plus sign? That's where the edit command is. It should look like a little pencil.
no subject
no subject
No problem at all, happy to help.
no subject