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And in fanfiction news....
The Multiverse story is finally finished, phew. This was later than my other contributions, but then, I had never written either character before. At least I resisted the temptation to more ficathons, and I dearly would have loved to join the 1602 one, but I just have too much rl and fannish stuff going on already.
In other news, the current challenge over at
fandom_muses is Blanche DuBois' final line in Streetcar Named Desire, "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." And I recalled
yahtzee63 wondering a while ago whatever happened to Arvin Cloane, aka Ned Bolger, the guy brainwashed into believing he was Sloane, last seen in s4's In Dreams. So I wrote a little vignette to answer that question. Set at some interminable point later, no spoilers for s5.
The Kindness of Strangers
All in all, it had taken far longer than he had expected to end his imprisonment, but it did, at last, end.
“You’ve got to be joking,” said the Senator whose name he always had trouble recalling during his parole hearing.
“This man is directly responsible for murder, extortion, kidnapping and torture. How can you even think of letting him go?”
“If you look at every psychiatric evaluation done on him,” his lawyer argued passionately, “as well as the testimony of Mr. Flinkman, you will admit that he was in no way in control of or responsible for his actions.”
The hearing took a long time, which gave him ample opportunity to reflect on the irony of the situation. Psychiatric evaluations. So despite all their decades together, it wasn’t going to be Jack who would be securing his release. Despite the fact he loved her like a daughter, it would not be Sydney.
“…very well. Your client will be transferred to a medical facility. But regular reports will have to be…”
A medical facility. Well, that should not be a problem. It would be almost insultingly easy.
“…Mr. Bolger? Do you understand these conditions?”
“Naturally.”
If only they would not keep insisting on this masquerade and calling him by another name. He was Arvin Sloane, not someone named Ned Bolger. Still, it was a minor irritation. He could bear with it if it meant regaining his freedom. He should have known it would be through a lot of anonymous people he could care less about. Friendship, love, hate, they put you in chains visible or invisible; but you could always depend on the kindness of strangers.
In other news, the current challenge over at
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The Kindness of Strangers
All in all, it had taken far longer than he had expected to end his imprisonment, but it did, at last, end.
“You’ve got to be joking,” said the Senator whose name he always had trouble recalling during his parole hearing.
“This man is directly responsible for murder, extortion, kidnapping and torture. How can you even think of letting him go?”
“If you look at every psychiatric evaluation done on him,” his lawyer argued passionately, “as well as the testimony of Mr. Flinkman, you will admit that he was in no way in control of or responsible for his actions.”
The hearing took a long time, which gave him ample opportunity to reflect on the irony of the situation. Psychiatric evaluations. So despite all their decades together, it wasn’t going to be Jack who would be securing his release. Despite the fact he loved her like a daughter, it would not be Sydney.
“…very well. Your client will be transferred to a medical facility. But regular reports will have to be…”
A medical facility. Well, that should not be a problem. It would be almost insultingly easy.
“…Mr. Bolger? Do you understand these conditions?”
“Naturally.”
If only they would not keep insisting on this masquerade and calling him by another name. He was Arvin Sloane, not someone named Ned Bolger. Still, it was a minor irritation. He could bear with it if it meant regaining his freedom. He should have known it would be through a lot of anonymous people he could care less about. Friendship, love, hate, they put you in chains visible or invisible; but you could always depend on the kindness of strangers.
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You know, I commented a while ago that it seems to be my lot to end up writing the characters in fandom that everybody modifies with "Poor" (Wesley, Scott, etc). Whereas your particular talent is making us say "poor" when most people DON'T usually say that.
Seriously, I love the notion that he isn't really cured at all. Great fic! I knew you'd knock this challenge out of the park.
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Ficathons are the work of the Devil *g*
(At least until someone manages to come up with a perfectly good, scientific explanation for the incredible temptation they present to a writer's brain...)
If, two months ago, anyone had told me that I'd write a perfectly adult, very straightforward Voyeuristic!TARDIS / Five, Companions - story just because the respective ficathon's description appealed to me, I would have called that person completely insane*g*
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I'm already working on a remedy for that particular problem. I should warn you, though, that it might turn out slightly more extensive than what you have asked for *veg*
(Trust me, there's perfectly rational, non-subjective reason behind sending you more than just one fifth Doctor adventure, plus I will balance the unsolicited Fivey episodes by adding Greates Show in the Galaxy to the package.