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crack_van2011-10-30 09:14 pm
merentha13.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2011-10-30 09:14 pm
Entry tags:
In The Widening Gyre by Verlaine (Adult)
Fandom: THE PROFESSIONALS
Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Length: short fic
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
loyseofverlaine
Author’s Stories: Automated Hatstand; The Circuit Archive
Why this must be read: Its Halloween! What could be better than ghosts!
Author’s warning: death story, ghost story, horror story. Also some fancy footwork around salvation theology.
Its time to turn the keys over to our next driver. I’ve enjoyed my chance to drive. I hope you have as well. I’m going to leave you with a seasonal story. Verlaine capture’s the mood of Halloween very well.
Enjoy!
The knock sounded again. Picking up his overcoat, Cowley checked his gun one last time, and squared his shoulders. There were only so many preparations a man could make, and then the struggle had to be joined, for better or worse. He opened the door.
The sight that greeted him stopped him cold.
You should be rotting, was the thought that crossed his mind. Eighteen months, you should be skeletons in rags and mould, not this.
Not Ray Doyle lounged against the doorpost, plaid jacket loose around his shoulders, sunglasses tipped down on his nose. Not Bodie, in black over black, standing at casual parade rest.
Cowley was aware that he was clutching the stair rail so hard tiny flakes of paint were grinding into his palm. His other hand fumbled for his gun, even though he was sure it would be of no more use than the prayer rising unbidden to his lips.
Even so, discipline held through, and his eyes moved from one to the other not entirely sure what he was looking for. Could even the best of actors or the most skillful of surgeons reproduce two men so exactly? Try as he might, he could find no scrap of difference. It was Bodie and Doyle as he'd last seen them, down to the rip at the bottom of Doyle's jacket zip and the first faint threads of silver in Bodie's sideburns.
Finally he managed to force his hand, finger by finger, away from his gun. Forced his dry lips to move.
"I buried you."
"And very nice funerals they were, too," Bodie said. "Could have done without the bagpipes, mind."
"What—" His voice broke and he cleared his throat. "What the devil are you two doing here?"
"Funny you should put it that way." Doyle's smile could have cut glass.
In some corner of his mind, Cowley was aware that he should be running screaming, not so much because he was standing on his doorstep conversing calmly with two dead men, as because it undoubtedly meant that he was mad. Instead, he found himself strangely calm. Given the alternative of Repton, or Kate Ross, he thought a bit giddily, perhaps it was the lesser of two evils to accept that ghosts might walk.
"Why have you come for me?"
"You're assigned a team for escort duty this evening. We're it." Doyle levered himself upright with a lithe shrug of one shoulder. "This way, sir."
So are you brave enough to give it a go? Happy Halloween!
The Widening Gyre
Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Length: short fic
Author on LJ:
loyseofverlaineAuthor’s Stories: Automated Hatstand; The Circuit Archive
Why this must be read: Its Halloween! What could be better than ghosts!
Author’s warning: death story, ghost story, horror story. Also some fancy footwork around salvation theology.
Its time to turn the keys over to our next driver. I’ve enjoyed my chance to drive. I hope you have as well. I’m going to leave you with a seasonal story. Verlaine capture’s the mood of Halloween very well.
Enjoy!
The knock sounded again. Picking up his overcoat, Cowley checked his gun one last time, and squared his shoulders. There were only so many preparations a man could make, and then the struggle had to be joined, for better or worse. He opened the door.
The sight that greeted him stopped him cold.
You should be rotting, was the thought that crossed his mind. Eighteen months, you should be skeletons in rags and mould, not this.
Not Ray Doyle lounged against the doorpost, plaid jacket loose around his shoulders, sunglasses tipped down on his nose. Not Bodie, in black over black, standing at casual parade rest.
Cowley was aware that he was clutching the stair rail so hard tiny flakes of paint were grinding into his palm. His other hand fumbled for his gun, even though he was sure it would be of no more use than the prayer rising unbidden to his lips.
Even so, discipline held through, and his eyes moved from one to the other not entirely sure what he was looking for. Could even the best of actors or the most skillful of surgeons reproduce two men so exactly? Try as he might, he could find no scrap of difference. It was Bodie and Doyle as he'd last seen them, down to the rip at the bottom of Doyle's jacket zip and the first faint threads of silver in Bodie's sideburns.
Finally he managed to force his hand, finger by finger, away from his gun. Forced his dry lips to move.
"I buried you."
"And very nice funerals they were, too," Bodie said. "Could have done without the bagpipes, mind."
"What—" His voice broke and he cleared his throat. "What the devil are you two doing here?"
"Funny you should put it that way." Doyle's smile could have cut glass.
In some corner of his mind, Cowley was aware that he should be running screaming, not so much because he was standing on his doorstep conversing calmly with two dead men, as because it undoubtedly meant that he was mad. Instead, he found himself strangely calm. Given the alternative of Repton, or Kate Ross, he thought a bit giddily, perhaps it was the lesser of two evils to accept that ghosts might walk.
"Why have you come for me?"
"You're assigned a team for escort duty this evening. We're it." Doyle levered himself upright with a lithe shrug of one shoulder. "This way, sir."
So are you brave enough to give it a go? Happy Halloween!
The Widening Gyre
Already done!
At least it proves it's very much appreciated.
Re: Already done!
Re: Already done!