Ten Minutes Towards Midnight and Three O’Clock in the Morning by Tigertrapped (PG and R)

[oceloty.livejournal.com]

Fandom: SPOOKS (MI-5)
Pairing: none
Length: 2000 words
Author on LJ: tigertrapped
Author Website: Fanfiction masterlist (note that some stories are locked, but these are open to all)
Why this must be read:

Connie and Lucas: two enigmas, wrapped in riddles, surrounded by mystery. For every word each said, ten things went unsaid; behind every meaningful look, countless motivations lurked.

This pair of stories is all about the two of them and their wonderfully complex dynamic in series 7.  “Ten Minutes Towards Midnight” is a brief encounter in early series 8, as they ponder where they stand with Harry Pearce and what loyalty MI-5 brought them.  The followup, “Three O’Clock in the Morning” is a coda to the series 7 finale, in which Lucas reflects on their shared journey.

Tigertrapped’s stories are filled with poetry and imagery, beautiful words in harsh contrast with the horror of Lucas’ experiences in Russia and the noir-ish atmosphere of doubt, deception, and betrayal. However, it was the fantastic characterization of Connie and Lucas which really drew me to these stories.

Whether they were to each other -- enemies, allies, foils, or something altogether indefinable --  Connie and Lucas understood each other. These stories capture their dynamic perfectly.


Excerpt:

‘You’re a little better. Sleeping at last?’

He knew she’d seen the shape of his skull in the thin carpet. No wool, knitted or otherwise, got pulled over the eyes of Connie James. ‘It’s the quiet. I can’t get used to it.’

She nodded. ‘Very noisy in prison. I’ll put the kettle on shall I?’

He marvelled at the careful construction of her clothes, tepid shades of grey in comfortable folds, the silver halo of her hair and the slow landslide of her face, makeup encouraged to trespass in the wrinkles she wore as armour. He was trying to put back some of the weight he’d lost, aware that the bones in his face were too near the surface. He needed to get rid of the edges, blend back in. He wished he could buy a decade’s worth of Connie’s disguise.

Ten minutes towards midnight

Three o'clock in the morning