Angel ficlets
Oct. 6th, 2005 10:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
selenakNow while I like nearly all of the Jossverse characters, there are some I love just a little bit more. For the series Angel, these are Darla and Connor. These recent months, I've been having a blast playing them at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
theatrical_muse (with a very kind soul jumping in if Connor needed to interact with Darla directly). Anyway, some of the challenge replies at tm resulted in little ficlets that I've been debating whether or not to post as regular fanfic, because they relate to show canon only. But on the other hand, they're pretty short. So, judge for yourself.
First, a Darla ficlet, written for the "betrayal" challenge:
Betrayal
„Never betray me again,“ he whispered, at the end of a long night, after he had caught up with her in Vienna. He had taken his revenge for being left in a burning house, exquisitely and memorably, and so she did not laugh.
But she said: “I have never sworn faith to any man.”
“You will keep faith with me,” he said, and there was something new in his arrogance. It was no longer the ignorance of an Irish boy; surviving the flames on his own had changed him and had given substance to his pride.
“Child,” she said, “I am your sire, and no mortal ladylove. We are only true to our nature; all this talk of betrayal is a human thing. You will put it behind you or become dust in your foolishness.”
“No,” he said, infuriatinly confident, “you’ll see. You will never betray me again.”
***
There was never a question of fidelity between them. When they travelled with James and Elizabeth for a while because all that earnest intensity was amusing in its way, the other couple was shocked to find that Angelus and Darla both took their pleasures with other people. Yet this was not what Angelus had meant with betrayal.
During their visit to Rome, he managed to get himself captured by Holtz, and she found herself coming to his rescue.
“No more burning barns, eh?” he asked as they drove away in a coach, and annoyed at the point he was making, she bit him, not kindly, while licking the blood from his breast. Holtz had shown an unexpected talent for the aesthetics of torture; her darling boy quite resembled the painting of St. Sebastian of Guido Reni she had admired earlier.
“It would be inconvenient for me to travel alone,” she said coldly, “and it takes so much time to train another lapdog.”
He pushed her against the bench then, and nearly broke her arm, but his voice did not sound angry; instead, it had that same infuriating confident.
“No,” he said. “You were not able to betray me.”
***
She sensed there was something wrong with him from the moment she entered the room. Darla never understood why other vampires did not, why Drusilla, of all the people, missed it completely later in China. It was there in every pore of his being, that twisted, unnatural thing – his soul.
There were tears in her eyes, but she drove him away with a stake. It was a paltry solution. She should have staked him. It was not Angelus anymore, she told herself, it was not even the Irishman she had chosen in an alley a long time ago; it was a new being, an abomination. And yet he had the same body, the same smell, the same eyes, looking at her.
“You made me.”
“No,” she cried, but a day later she had to admit defeat, if only to herself. Instead of putting all thought of him behind her, she collected Spike and Drusilla and slaughtered the gypsies. The most humiliating thing was that revenge was not even her primary aim. She wanted him back, and in her desperation, her mind had conjured up a scheme that would allow her to defeat fate.
When Spike in his ignorance ruined her plan, she broke the neck of the last remaining gypsy, and understood that all the deaths of the night had been in vain. It was the first time killing had caused her not the least bit of satisfaction. The very air she did not breathe had become ash in her mouth.
And yet she was not able to forget him. To do so, and she stepped over another dead body as her thoughts brought her to the merciless conclusion, would have been a betrayal.
***
She took him back. Of course she did. In doing so, she abandoned the notion that was to become so dear to him later, and to the humans he attached himself to – that he was not Angelus, that these were two beings in the same body. If he was not Angelus, he would not have followed her across two continents, for what would she have been to him? If he was not Angelus, he was nothing to her.
But her knife was at his throat, and she could have separated his head from his body, putting an end to the sickness that had changed him forever, and yet she could not do it. “We can have the whirlwind back,” he said, and she believed him. Before they went out to seek Spike and Drusilla, they coupled with the desperate intensity of lovers who had been forced apart, and even though she loathed the term, she found herself using it in her mind.
“Would you truly have let me kill you?” she asked, for surviving had always been one of his strongest talents. He smiled at her, reckless and sad at the same time.
“Ah, but I knew you would not. I know that you will never betray me again.”
Her rage burned all the brighter when they parted over a baby’s body, when she understood that he had deceived her, had lied to her; that his bold claim had never meant he would not betray her.
And that she had given him the opportunity to do so.
- finis -
Secondly, a Connor ficlet, set in later season 4, written for the challenge "overcoming self doubt":
Doubt
She's here, she's finally here, the miracle, the reason and justification for everything, has to be, and the first thing she says with her beautiful voice is his father's name.
"Angel."
Angel falls to his knees and Connor follows suit, not sure this isn't all a dream, or what he feels. The blood on his face has hardly dried yet after all.
....annointed in the blood of the innocent, you have a choice, you have a choice...
Then Angel surrenders his sword to her, and she's gone. They're alone with Cordelia's body. Cordelia who is still breathing but no longer conscious. He hadn't expected this. Despite everything, he had doubted her when she swore everything would be alright once their baby was born, that there would be no more hate. And it seems to come true. There is Angel, no longer fighting, no longer trying to kill anybody. In fact, Angel launches into a torrent of selfabuse, repeating every accusation Connor ever flung at him, and then some. It should feel satisfying. It doesn't.
"We have to prepare the others, Dad,"
Connor says at last, and either the argument or the rarely used term has the hoped for effect. Angel is silent, nods, and turns towards him. Comes closer. Finally notices the bloodstains on Connor's face.
"Did I hurt you?"
he asks, and Connor shakes his head.
...the blood of the innocent, help me, let me go, let me go, you have a choice, there, that wasn't so difficult, was it, the blood of the innocent...
The body of the girl still lies there, together with Cordy's, even though she is no longer wearing his mother's face. It's impossible for Angel not to arrive at the obvious conclusion. Connor steels himself for the inevitable accusation.
What you did to me was unspeakable. So the question is, what do you deserve?
But it doesn't come. Instead, Angel takes one more step and stands so close that one could have felt his breath, if he breathed. He raises his left hand and wipes away the stains. Shivering, Connor lets it happen.
"I should have done that for you," Angel said. "For her. Now let us go to the others."
This is when the enormity of the miracle truly sinks in.
****
Everyone reacts as Angel did. There is no more question of right and wrong; there is only the miracle, who soon will be called Jasmine. For the first time, they all want the same, and Connor feels no longer excluded or stared at or blamed. And yet. He's happy, he truly is, and proud to have been the instrument that brought forth Jasmine who will bring peace to everyone... but as opposed to everyone else, he can't shake off the darkness within. At first, he thinks that's true for Angel was well, but then he overhears Angel and Jasmine talking and realizes Angel is just afraid of being too happy because of Angelus. Connor isn't. He wants to be completely happy. He wants to be complete.
But Cordelia is still in her silent sleep, and he had promised to keep her safe. Jasmine swears she'll wake up again, when the world has been made perfect. And yet Connor cannot shake off the sensation of failure. Which is still better to contemplate the other things on his mind.
...let me go oh let me go I swear I won't tell her blood for our baby that's fair isn't it we're special isn't it isn't it you have a choice...
When he's alone with the goddess who is his daughter, he takes all his courage and confesses. Tells her that he still doubts, though no one else does.
"I have done things," he says. "I don't deserve..."
"You deserve every happiness I can give you," she replies, and he believes her. He has to. Surely a peaceful world free of evil justifies everything? "A soldier has to make sacrifices, Stephen," Holtz used to say, and it's wrong to assume that Daniel Holtz would never have approved of the murder of a human being. Holtz arranged for his own sacrifice at Justine's hand, after all. No, it's wrong to doubt, and Connor pushes his doubt back with every conviction he has to participate in the wonder that is Jasmine.
For a while, it works. He's happier than he has been for a long, long time. Perhaps ever. Even after Fred looked at Jasmine with horror in her eyes and left, it continues to work. It doesn't start to fall apart until Fred infects Angel, but that shouldn't come as a surprise; Angel is the beginning and end of everything that is wrong in Connor's life, isn't he?
Except that he isn't. Now the hotel is full of worshippers. Angel and the others might have left, but the entire state of California bows to Jasmine, so she says, and soon the world will. Los Angeles, by and large, is still completely happy. The world soon will be. So why the return of what feels suspiciously like guilt and traitorously like doubt?
"Why aren't you smiling?" Jasmine asks and proceeds to tell him he hasn't surrendered completely yet. Which Connor can't understand. Nobody loves her more than he does. He doesn't want to be excluded from the universal bliss. He's not like Angel who needs his misery and prefers it to being together, even now they can be.
"It's your pain," she says. "Pain has been the one constant in your life."
He looks at her and thinks she's wrong, or only half right; there has also been love. The love just hasn't been able to prevent the pain, so maybe he shouldn't be surprised the later hasn't gone. Maybe he deserves it, for having caused pain to others. Then he understands the very thought is a betrayal, for it means doubt. Doubting himself means doubting her, for she created him to be her father.
"I want it," Jasmine says. "Give it to me."
Her nails draw blood from his flesh and she's welcome to his pain, welcome to do more, because that is what people who love you do and what he deserves. But his pain isn't what keeps him in this state. It's his doubt, and so for the last time Connor manages to take it and put it away. He overcomes it, for the sake of his goddess.
Perhaps he knows, even then, that the day when he won't be able to overcome his doubt anymore will be the day that spells the end for both of them.
-finis-
So, gentle reader, what do you think? Too short and topic-related for regular fanfic, or passable?
theatrical_muse (with a very kind soul jumping in if Connor needed to interact with Darla directly). Anyway, some of the challenge replies at tm resulted in little ficlets that I've been debating whether or not to post as regular fanfic, because they relate to show canon only. But on the other hand, they're pretty short. So, judge for yourself. First, a Darla ficlet, written for the "betrayal" challenge:
Betrayal
„Never betray me again,“ he whispered, at the end of a long night, after he had caught up with her in Vienna. He had taken his revenge for being left in a burning house, exquisitely and memorably, and so she did not laugh.
But she said: “I have never sworn faith to any man.”
“You will keep faith with me,” he said, and there was something new in his arrogance. It was no longer the ignorance of an Irish boy; surviving the flames on his own had changed him and had given substance to his pride.
“Child,” she said, “I am your sire, and no mortal ladylove. We are only true to our nature; all this talk of betrayal is a human thing. You will put it behind you or become dust in your foolishness.”
“No,” he said, infuriatinly confident, “you’ll see. You will never betray me again.”
***
There was never a question of fidelity between them. When they travelled with James and Elizabeth for a while because all that earnest intensity was amusing in its way, the other couple was shocked to find that Angelus and Darla both took their pleasures with other people. Yet this was not what Angelus had meant with betrayal.
During their visit to Rome, he managed to get himself captured by Holtz, and she found herself coming to his rescue.
“No more burning barns, eh?” he asked as they drove away in a coach, and annoyed at the point he was making, she bit him, not kindly, while licking the blood from his breast. Holtz had shown an unexpected talent for the aesthetics of torture; her darling boy quite resembled the painting of St. Sebastian of Guido Reni she had admired earlier.
“It would be inconvenient for me to travel alone,” she said coldly, “and it takes so much time to train another lapdog.”
He pushed her against the bench then, and nearly broke her arm, but his voice did not sound angry; instead, it had that same infuriating confident.
“No,” he said. “You were not able to betray me.”
***
She sensed there was something wrong with him from the moment she entered the room. Darla never understood why other vampires did not, why Drusilla, of all the people, missed it completely later in China. It was there in every pore of his being, that twisted, unnatural thing – his soul.
There were tears in her eyes, but she drove him away with a stake. It was a paltry solution. She should have staked him. It was not Angelus anymore, she told herself, it was not even the Irishman she had chosen in an alley a long time ago; it was a new being, an abomination. And yet he had the same body, the same smell, the same eyes, looking at her.
“You made me.”
“No,” she cried, but a day later she had to admit defeat, if only to herself. Instead of putting all thought of him behind her, she collected Spike and Drusilla and slaughtered the gypsies. The most humiliating thing was that revenge was not even her primary aim. She wanted him back, and in her desperation, her mind had conjured up a scheme that would allow her to defeat fate.
When Spike in his ignorance ruined her plan, she broke the neck of the last remaining gypsy, and understood that all the deaths of the night had been in vain. It was the first time killing had caused her not the least bit of satisfaction. The very air she did not breathe had become ash in her mouth.
And yet she was not able to forget him. To do so, and she stepped over another dead body as her thoughts brought her to the merciless conclusion, would have been a betrayal.
***
She took him back. Of course she did. In doing so, she abandoned the notion that was to become so dear to him later, and to the humans he attached himself to – that he was not Angelus, that these were two beings in the same body. If he was not Angelus, he would not have followed her across two continents, for what would she have been to him? If he was not Angelus, he was nothing to her.
But her knife was at his throat, and she could have separated his head from his body, putting an end to the sickness that had changed him forever, and yet she could not do it. “We can have the whirlwind back,” he said, and she believed him. Before they went out to seek Spike and Drusilla, they coupled with the desperate intensity of lovers who had been forced apart, and even though she loathed the term, she found herself using it in her mind.
“Would you truly have let me kill you?” she asked, for surviving had always been one of his strongest talents. He smiled at her, reckless and sad at the same time.
“Ah, but I knew you would not. I know that you will never betray me again.”
Her rage burned all the brighter when they parted over a baby’s body, when she understood that he had deceived her, had lied to her; that his bold claim had never meant he would not betray her.
And that she had given him the opportunity to do so.
- finis -
Secondly, a Connor ficlet, set in later season 4, written for the challenge "overcoming self doubt":
Doubt
She's here, she's finally here, the miracle, the reason and justification for everything, has to be, and the first thing she says with her beautiful voice is his father's name.
"Angel."
Angel falls to his knees and Connor follows suit, not sure this isn't all a dream, or what he feels. The blood on his face has hardly dried yet after all.
....annointed in the blood of the innocent, you have a choice, you have a choice...
Then Angel surrenders his sword to her, and she's gone. They're alone with Cordelia's body. Cordelia who is still breathing but no longer conscious. He hadn't expected this. Despite everything, he had doubted her when she swore everything would be alright once their baby was born, that there would be no more hate. And it seems to come true. There is Angel, no longer fighting, no longer trying to kill anybody. In fact, Angel launches into a torrent of selfabuse, repeating every accusation Connor ever flung at him, and then some. It should feel satisfying. It doesn't.
"We have to prepare the others, Dad,"
Connor says at last, and either the argument or the rarely used term has the hoped for effect. Angel is silent, nods, and turns towards him. Comes closer. Finally notices the bloodstains on Connor's face.
"Did I hurt you?"
he asks, and Connor shakes his head.
...the blood of the innocent, help me, let me go, let me go, you have a choice, there, that wasn't so difficult, was it, the blood of the innocent...
The body of the girl still lies there, together with Cordy's, even though she is no longer wearing his mother's face. It's impossible for Angel not to arrive at the obvious conclusion. Connor steels himself for the inevitable accusation.
What you did to me was unspeakable. So the question is, what do you deserve?
But it doesn't come. Instead, Angel takes one more step and stands so close that one could have felt his breath, if he breathed. He raises his left hand and wipes away the stains. Shivering, Connor lets it happen.
"I should have done that for you," Angel said. "For her. Now let us go to the others."
This is when the enormity of the miracle truly sinks in.
****
Everyone reacts as Angel did. There is no more question of right and wrong; there is only the miracle, who soon will be called Jasmine. For the first time, they all want the same, and Connor feels no longer excluded or stared at or blamed. And yet. He's happy, he truly is, and proud to have been the instrument that brought forth Jasmine who will bring peace to everyone... but as opposed to everyone else, he can't shake off the darkness within. At first, he thinks that's true for Angel was well, but then he overhears Angel and Jasmine talking and realizes Angel is just afraid of being too happy because of Angelus. Connor isn't. He wants to be completely happy. He wants to be complete.
But Cordelia is still in her silent sleep, and he had promised to keep her safe. Jasmine swears she'll wake up again, when the world has been made perfect. And yet Connor cannot shake off the sensation of failure. Which is still better to contemplate the other things on his mind.
...let me go oh let me go I swear I won't tell her blood for our baby that's fair isn't it we're special isn't it isn't it you have a choice...
When he's alone with the goddess who is his daughter, he takes all his courage and confesses. Tells her that he still doubts, though no one else does.
"I have done things," he says. "I don't deserve..."
"You deserve every happiness I can give you," she replies, and he believes her. He has to. Surely a peaceful world free of evil justifies everything? "A soldier has to make sacrifices, Stephen," Holtz used to say, and it's wrong to assume that Daniel Holtz would never have approved of the murder of a human being. Holtz arranged for his own sacrifice at Justine's hand, after all. No, it's wrong to doubt, and Connor pushes his doubt back with every conviction he has to participate in the wonder that is Jasmine.
For a while, it works. He's happier than he has been for a long, long time. Perhaps ever. Even after Fred looked at Jasmine with horror in her eyes and left, it continues to work. It doesn't start to fall apart until Fred infects Angel, but that shouldn't come as a surprise; Angel is the beginning and end of everything that is wrong in Connor's life, isn't he?
Except that he isn't. Now the hotel is full of worshippers. Angel and the others might have left, but the entire state of California bows to Jasmine, so she says, and soon the world will. Los Angeles, by and large, is still completely happy. The world soon will be. So why the return of what feels suspiciously like guilt and traitorously like doubt?
"Why aren't you smiling?" Jasmine asks and proceeds to tell him he hasn't surrendered completely yet. Which Connor can't understand. Nobody loves her more than he does. He doesn't want to be excluded from the universal bliss. He's not like Angel who needs his misery and prefers it to being together, even now they can be.
"It's your pain," she says. "Pain has been the one constant in your life."
He looks at her and thinks she's wrong, or only half right; there has also been love. The love just hasn't been able to prevent the pain, so maybe he shouldn't be surprised the later hasn't gone. Maybe he deserves it, for having caused pain to others. Then he understands the very thought is a betrayal, for it means doubt. Doubting himself means doubting her, for she created him to be her father.
"I want it," Jasmine says. "Give it to me."
Her nails draw blood from his flesh and she's welcome to his pain, welcome to do more, because that is what people who love you do and what he deserves. But his pain isn't what keeps him in this state. It's his doubt, and so for the last time Connor manages to take it and put it away. He overcomes it, for the sake of his goddess.
Perhaps he knows, even then, that the day when he won't be able to overcome his doubt anymore will be the day that spells the end for both of them.
-finis-
So, gentle reader, what do you think? Too short and topic-related for regular fanfic, or passable?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-10-06 07:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-07 06:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-07 11:59 am (UTC)Is the SGA working now, then? Or have you been too busy to try again? :)
no subject
Date: 2005-10-08 04:44 pm (UTC)Jossverse shows: well, they're not for everyone. I couldn't get into the original Stargate.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-08 06:49 pm (UTC)I don't really expect SGA to be something that really sucks you in. But I think you might get some enjoyment out of it, and some of the characters may well appeal. I'm just trying it out on people, on the off-chance that it "fits" someone. Because when you *do* hook someone, it's so great...
no subject
Date: 2005-10-07 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-07 03:40 am (UTC)And thank you!
no subject
Date: 2005-10-07 09:00 am (UTC)Rather more than passable *g*. Beautiful, painful and as perfectly characterised as ever.
her mind had conjured up a scheme that would allow her to defeat fate.
Typical of Darla who was always trying to defeat fate, until in the end she chose her own.
The love just hasn't been able to prevent the pain
Connor's tragedy in one short phrase. Perfect!
no subject
Date: 2005-10-07 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-07 10:35 am (UTC)Yes, I'm shallow.
(In other news, have you watched VM yet?)
no subject
Date: 2005-10-07 01:07 pm (UTC)I saw the first episode, but not the second one yet.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-07 01:19 pm (UTC)Not surprised you were given extra time. & :-)
And yes, same here! Did you jot down a response? And as for Alias, what do you say? (I read my Alias filter but didn't see a post from you.)
no subject
Date: 2005-10-07 01:33 pm (UTC)