request #1, AtS, Superfly TNT
Apr. 3rd, 2005 09:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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viggorlijah, the first of the requested short fic things. It's...not really what you asked for, but it is about as close as I could get with the giant brick wall of rage and OTPness getting in my way.
Superfly, TNT
spoilers (and denial) for "Not Fade Away"
Gunn wakes up in a hospital with Fred holding his hand. Her fingers are cold, but when he looks at her – really looks at her, her eyes are colder and he knows that it’s not really Fred and that this is probably not really him waking up so much as it is him being dead and getting that final reward.
Funny, but he thought he’d done the hell thing already. White America, white suburbia like crossing the county line, and city black him thinking that it was normal and wanted. But maybe that was just the prelude, the overture, and this was showtime, waking up in this hospital like a memory and don’t it just figure that he’s got a hole in his gut too?
Fred looks at him, playing at romance for the audience of nurses and doctors parading past the window, but he can see her killer looking out of her eyes just like he can see himself there, reflected and tiny. Another hole in his gut for that.
"He wanted you alive," she says, all flat and stale. It’s all she says and Gunn lets it go at that. She never mentions Angel and Gunn never asks, not in all the time he’s in the hospital, but the not visiting is kind of clue enough there, at least for Gunn. Big Daddy’s gone and gotten himself killed in a blaze of glory like the dumb fucker he is and there’s a part of Gunn – a really huge monster sized part of him that wonders just when he bought into the hype. Being just Charles Gunn is like a weight off and he promises himself he’s gonna stay that way, just himself, whole and separate and if it means that he dies alone, well, he’s always known that was the way.
They let him out of the hospital and he’s not as strong as he was but he works at it, holes up with Anne and helps out around the shelter and builds himself back up until he’s almost like he was before Angel ever swooped into his life. He can’t be the same but times change and people change and he’s not the same guy he was five years ago or a year ago or a week ago.
Illyria comes with and she freaks Anne out, but Anne lets it go because Illyria pretends to be Fred and works beside Gunn and if she talks about the weak needing to be culled, Gunn never mentions it to anyone else. He knows better and survivor’s strength is sometimes the best kind there is. You keep going, because otherwise they win.
They win anyway because they’ve got power and money, but Gunn has pride and Gunn has himself and that has to be enough. He had power and money too and deep down, he doesn’t regret a second of it. He can go two exits down the freeway and there’s an orphanage built for his people with their money and that’s a satisfaction all its own. Angel never understood that; none of them really did.
But the shelter is enough and Anne is enough and Illyria is nothing like enough, but he deals because that’s what you do when there’s no other choice. There are things – people, *people* -- he misses but he can’t do anything about that either. That's what life is if you're Charles Gunn. That's what life is is your name is Anne or George or Rondell. Angel had said it once, said it and forgot like it was nothing.
If nothing we do matters; all that matters is what we do.
Fucker.
He talked the talk, Angel did, but scratch deep enough and all Gunn could find was the star of a thousand visions and scrolls. No one prophesied the black man or the girl from Texas or the skinny English guy. They didn't have Got Fate tattooed across their foreheads like a target. All they had was The Mission and sometimes not even that.
Gunn's found his again and he's not letting go for anyone. The next guy to walk in with with a destiny is gonna get an ass kicking like Samuel L. quoting the Bible.
The next guy to walk in is the kid.
Gunn stands up slowly, hand closed tight around the handle of the paint bucket he'd been working with. He has two sets of memories about Connor. The second one is vague and short. The first one isn't.
Illyria stands next to him, Fred's body on her like a bad suit. She says something he doesn't quite hear, lost as he is trying to pick out the real from the fake before he thinks, "Fuck it," and moves to push the kid out. But Anne's moving before he is, all smiles and held out hand and Connor shakes her hand, smiling too.
She turns, sees him, and motions him over. "Gunn, this is Connor."
"We've met," says Gunn. He doesn't reach out to shake Connor's hand and Anne gives him a look before she moves past it.
"Connor's our new volunteer," she says, warning Gunn off. "I want you to show him around, introduce him to people." She pats Connor on the back and leaves, silence settling in behind her.
"You worked with my--" starts Connor before he stops and presses his lips together. "You were at Wolfram and Hart."
"Yeah."
They go quiet again. Connor shifts from one foot to the other and Gunn wonders if he knows what he's doing. Gunn can see him looking for balance, getting ready for the threat represented by the big black man glaring at him, all hostile and scary.
Scary for the kid Connor became, not the one he'd been born.
"I'm sorry," Connor says finally.
Gunn doesn't know why or what and he doesn't care. It's not enough.
viggorlijah, the first of the requested short fic things. It's...not really what you asked for, but it is about as close as I could get with the giant brick wall of rage and OTPness getting in my way.Superfly, TNT
spoilers (and denial) for "Not Fade Away"
Gunn wakes up in a hospital with Fred holding his hand. Her fingers are cold, but when he looks at her – really looks at her, her eyes are colder and he knows that it’s not really Fred and that this is probably not really him waking up so much as it is him being dead and getting that final reward.
Funny, but he thought he’d done the hell thing already. White America, white suburbia like crossing the county line, and city black him thinking that it was normal and wanted. But maybe that was just the prelude, the overture, and this was showtime, waking up in this hospital like a memory and don’t it just figure that he’s got a hole in his gut too?
Fred looks at him, playing at romance for the audience of nurses and doctors parading past the window, but he can see her killer looking out of her eyes just like he can see himself there, reflected and tiny. Another hole in his gut for that.
"He wanted you alive," she says, all flat and stale. It’s all she says and Gunn lets it go at that. She never mentions Angel and Gunn never asks, not in all the time he’s in the hospital, but the not visiting is kind of clue enough there, at least for Gunn. Big Daddy’s gone and gotten himself killed in a blaze of glory like the dumb fucker he is and there’s a part of Gunn – a really huge monster sized part of him that wonders just when he bought into the hype. Being just Charles Gunn is like a weight off and he promises himself he’s gonna stay that way, just himself, whole and separate and if it means that he dies alone, well, he’s always known that was the way.
They let him out of the hospital and he’s not as strong as he was but he works at it, holes up with Anne and helps out around the shelter and builds himself back up until he’s almost like he was before Angel ever swooped into his life. He can’t be the same but times change and people change and he’s not the same guy he was five years ago or a year ago or a week ago.
Illyria comes with and she freaks Anne out, but Anne lets it go because Illyria pretends to be Fred and works beside Gunn and if she talks about the weak needing to be culled, Gunn never mentions it to anyone else. He knows better and survivor’s strength is sometimes the best kind there is. You keep going, because otherwise they win.
They win anyway because they’ve got power and money, but Gunn has pride and Gunn has himself and that has to be enough. He had power and money too and deep down, he doesn’t regret a second of it. He can go two exits down the freeway and there’s an orphanage built for his people with their money and that’s a satisfaction all its own. Angel never understood that; none of them really did.
But the shelter is enough and Anne is enough and Illyria is nothing like enough, but he deals because that’s what you do when there’s no other choice. There are things – people, *people* -- he misses but he can’t do anything about that either. That's what life is if you're Charles Gunn. That's what life is is your name is Anne or George or Rondell. Angel had said it once, said it and forgot like it was nothing.
If nothing we do matters; all that matters is what we do.
Fucker.
He talked the talk, Angel did, but scratch deep enough and all Gunn could find was the star of a thousand visions and scrolls. No one prophesied the black man or the girl from Texas or the skinny English guy. They didn't have Got Fate tattooed across their foreheads like a target. All they had was The Mission and sometimes not even that.
Gunn's found his again and he's not letting go for anyone. The next guy to walk in with with a destiny is gonna get an ass kicking like Samuel L. quoting the Bible.
The next guy to walk in is the kid.
Gunn stands up slowly, hand closed tight around the handle of the paint bucket he'd been working with. He has two sets of memories about Connor. The second one is vague and short. The first one isn't.
Illyria stands next to him, Fred's body on her like a bad suit. She says something he doesn't quite hear, lost as he is trying to pick out the real from the fake before he thinks, "Fuck it," and moves to push the kid out. But Anne's moving before he is, all smiles and held out hand and Connor shakes her hand, smiling too.
She turns, sees him, and motions him over. "Gunn, this is Connor."
"We've met," says Gunn. He doesn't reach out to shake Connor's hand and Anne gives him a look before she moves past it.
"Connor's our new volunteer," she says, warning Gunn off. "I want you to show him around, introduce him to people." She pats Connor on the back and leaves, silence settling in behind her.
"You worked with my--" starts Connor before he stops and presses his lips together. "You were at Wolfram and Hart."
"Yeah."
They go quiet again. Connor shifts from one foot to the other and Gunn wonders if he knows what he's doing. Gunn can see him looking for balance, getting ready for the threat represented by the big black man glaring at him, all hostile and scary.
Scary for the kid Connor became, not the one he'd been born.
"I'm sorry," Connor says finally.
Gunn doesn't know why or what and he doesn't care. It's not enough.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-03 10:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-07 07:30 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-03 10:42 pm (UTC)The next guy to walk in is the kid.
Gunn stands up slowly, hand closed tight around the handle of the paint bucket he'd been working with. He has two sets of memories about Connor. The second one is vague and short. The first one isn't.
Clean and /perfect/. Finds the balance between snappily funny and hard-hitting exactly.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-07 07:31 am (UTC)And thank you :)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-03 10:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-07 07:31 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-04 12:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-07 07:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-04 01:12 am (UTC)- I haven't posted to LJ yet, but guh. Guh. Gunn's anger seeps in and he's walking wounded, but that's what counts - walking, and being able to do what counts. And Connor as everything sacrificed for this kid and Ilyria still there, masked and alien and - yes.
Yes.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-07 07:33 am (UTC)I heart you, though! lots and lots.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-04 06:11 am (UTC)Ooooo, bitter. Bitter, bitter, bitter. Bitter and good. This is great Gunn characterization and I love it. The bitterness is just...yum.
~Amber
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-07 07:37 am (UTC)But yay! I'm glad you liked it!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-04 06:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-07 07:37 am (UTC)It's good to know I can bring the pain sometimes.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-08 03:38 am (UTC)Anyway, I love. You for this and this for hitting the places that hurt. And Gunn, my Gunn. Oh my.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-17 01:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-05 11:48 pm (UTC)Damn, that is the Gunn Manifesto.
And precisely my take on NFA.
I'm so glad that I found this through Gloss...she's the giver of good things. But this? Has me running to read anything, everything else you've written about Gunn. But not until I watch the video......