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ds_flashfictionFor the Cave-In challenge. Fraser/Victoria, PG, 630 words of angst and allegory. Dialogue verbatim from Victoria's Secret. With many thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
secret_garden for most excellent beta, and the title as well.
When he first sees her in Chicago, a glimpse of long, dark curls going through a revolving door, he remembers the dream.
--
They are in the lean-to he'd constructed from his rifle and his coat, huddled together while around them rages the storm. The wind shrieks in his ears, all but drowning out the steady thrum of her voice, reciting a poem. He can't quite make out the words, just the rhythm, tones rising and falling and rising again.
The snow swirls into their shelter, and the urgency in her voice increases. Something is wrong. If only he could understand the words she's chanting, he knows he can make it all right, but he can't and it isn't and the snow piles up around them, the howling wind gets louder, and with a crash it all falls down: the snow, the coat, the rifle, Victoria.
He is standing in the unnatural silence after the storm has blown itself out. The sky is blue. In front of him is the snowdrift, and under the snow is Victoria. She, too, is silent, but the words spill from his mouth: he won't leave her, he will save her, it's not too late, and he scrabbles at the snow frantically, fruitlessly, until his fingers are raw and bleeding. Until he wakes up.
--
It's always the same dream. In the weeks after he'd turned Victoria in to the authorities, he'd dreamed of her every single night. Years have passed; now the dream comes perhaps once a month.
The woman in the revolving door troubles him. He wonders whether the dream has begun to invade his waking hours; but then he sees her again, climbing into a taxi, and this time it is Victoria.
- Did you think we could pretend it didn't happen? How could you do it?
- I'm sorry.
He has begged her forgiveness a thousand times in his dreams. He made a mistake once, and he can't make it again. When he holds her close to him that night, the only snow falling around them is in his memory; and when he sleeps, he does not dream.
He wakes almost giddy with joy; maybe he has saved her, after all. Then there is Jolly, and the world goes to pieces. He was trying to kill me, Victoria tells him, and he nods.
- I promise you I will do everything, I mean everything in my power to help.
- You mean you won't go away?
- Never. I won't let you down.
- Not this time. Okay? Okay?
Instead it is Victoria, who drags him down, below the surface and into the snow, until he is disoriented and gasping for breath. Somehow he has become a murder suspect; somehow he has become an accessory to theft; somehow she has done this all to him, but he will save her, he has to save her, because he made a mistake once, and he can't make it again.
- Ben. Come with me. Come with me. You'll regret it if you don't.
He runs; he jumps; there is a gunshot, and he falls endlessly into the snow. She is there beside him, shivering, and he puts his arms around her as the storm builds outside the lean-to. He strains to hear the words of the poem she's reciting, and when he recognizes it he whispers along with her:
- dapple-dawn drawn falcon, in his riding of the rolling level underneath him steady air…
The snow piles up around them, the howling wind gets louder, and with a crash it all falls down: the snow, the coat, the rifle, Victoria.
He is buried beneath the snowdrift. Somehow he knows that outside, above him, the storm has blown itself out. The sky is blue. And Victoria is walking away.
secret_garden for most excellent beta, and the title as well.When he first sees her in Chicago, a glimpse of long, dark curls going through a revolving door, he remembers the dream.
--
They are in the lean-to he'd constructed from his rifle and his coat, huddled together while around them rages the storm. The wind shrieks in his ears, all but drowning out the steady thrum of her voice, reciting a poem. He can't quite make out the words, just the rhythm, tones rising and falling and rising again.
The snow swirls into their shelter, and the urgency in her voice increases. Something is wrong. If only he could understand the words she's chanting, he knows he can make it all right, but he can't and it isn't and the snow piles up around them, the howling wind gets louder, and with a crash it all falls down: the snow, the coat, the rifle, Victoria.
He is standing in the unnatural silence after the storm has blown itself out. The sky is blue. In front of him is the snowdrift, and under the snow is Victoria. She, too, is silent, but the words spill from his mouth: he won't leave her, he will save her, it's not too late, and he scrabbles at the snow frantically, fruitlessly, until his fingers are raw and bleeding. Until he wakes up.
--
It's always the same dream. In the weeks after he'd turned Victoria in to the authorities, he'd dreamed of her every single night. Years have passed; now the dream comes perhaps once a month.
The woman in the revolving door troubles him. He wonders whether the dream has begun to invade his waking hours; but then he sees her again, climbing into a taxi, and this time it is Victoria.
- Did you think we could pretend it didn't happen? How could you do it?
- I'm sorry.
He has begged her forgiveness a thousand times in his dreams. He made a mistake once, and he can't make it again. When he holds her close to him that night, the only snow falling around them is in his memory; and when he sleeps, he does not dream.
He wakes almost giddy with joy; maybe he has saved her, after all. Then there is Jolly, and the world goes to pieces. He was trying to kill me, Victoria tells him, and he nods.
- I promise you I will do everything, I mean everything in my power to help.
- You mean you won't go away?
- Never. I won't let you down.
- Not this time. Okay? Okay?
Instead it is Victoria, who drags him down, below the surface and into the snow, until he is disoriented and gasping for breath. Somehow he has become a murder suspect; somehow he has become an accessory to theft; somehow she has done this all to him, but he will save her, he has to save her, because he made a mistake once, and he can't make it again.
- Ben. Come with me. Come with me. You'll regret it if you don't.
He runs; he jumps; there is a gunshot, and he falls endlessly into the snow. She is there beside him, shivering, and he puts his arms around her as the storm builds outside the lean-to. He strains to hear the words of the poem she's reciting, and when he recognizes it he whispers along with her:
- dapple-dawn drawn falcon, in his riding of the rolling level underneath him steady air…
The snow piles up around them, the howling wind gets louder, and with a crash it all falls down: the snow, the coat, the rifle, Victoria.
He is buried beneath the snowdrift. Somehow he knows that outside, above him, the storm has blown itself out. The sky is blue. And Victoria is walking away.
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no subject
Date: 2006-11-21 03:50 am (UTC)Lovely imagery, with the snow and cold highlighting Victoria's brittle heart. Very nicely done.
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Date: 2006-11-21 04:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-21 04:27 am (UTC)Of course, Gerard Manley Hopkins! Purrrfect! I almost begrudge Victoria that poem except that it keeps Fraser alive too, and it's all about the magic and sacredness of everyday things, so it's fitting for him, I think.
Very nice. And the last two sentences are lovely.
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Date: 2006-11-21 04:47 pm (UTC)Thank you very much.
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Date: 2006-11-21 04:46 am (UTC)Beautiful.
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Date: 2006-11-21 04:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-21 05:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-21 04:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-21 06:41 am (UTC)I don't know who I love more after this, you or Fraser. *wibbles*
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Date: 2006-11-21 04:52 pm (UTC)Thank you very much for reading out of your comfort zone. (I swear I was thinking of this as Fraser gen, but after it finished coming together it was obviously Fraser/Victoria.)
And Fraser, that big woobie, needs everybody's love.
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Date: 2006-11-21 09:07 pm (UTC)Except Victoria's, of course. The woman's poison. *bares claws protectively*
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Date: 2006-11-21 09:12 pm (UTC)PrettyprettyprettyFrasersopretty.
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Date: 2006-11-21 11:16 pm (UTC)And Victoria is so very very evil. Boo, Victoria! Go away! Stay away from our Fraser!
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Date: 2006-11-22 12:32 am (UTC)Yay for custom icons. *stares some more*
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Date: 2006-11-21 07:29 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2006-11-21 03:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-21 05:04 pm (UTC)I always try in my stories to have the end circle back to the beginning in some thematic way. When I was thinking of this I first thought of their shelter caving in, and Fraser trying to save Victoria - which is of course what he feels he has failed in, by turning her in, and what he tries to do throughout the episode. But of course what happens is that in trying to save her he loses himself, and she is the one doing it to him, making him compromise and pervert his principles. So the metaphor from the dream reverses, and as he lies on the ground at the train station his subconscious realizes this, finally.
Anyway, I am glad you enjoyed it!
no subject
Date: 2006-11-21 05:16 pm (UTC)It's interesting you talk about circling back in your stories; I find myself always wanting to, at least thematically, bookend my vids. I like the closure and the way you can see how the story/vid has grown from when it started. I'm a huge fan of bookending/circling back. And here, I like that it's Fraser realizing what's happened himself, so it's not done necessarily for the reader but for the character. It's a particularly effective use of the technique.
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Date: 2006-11-21 11:13 pm (UTC)I think that here it is both for the reader and the character, because the message is for Fraser, but it's the reader seeing it, so to speak. The presentation of the story such that the dream is right at the beginning and the revisited dream is at the end is part of making it into a circle for the reader.
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Date: 2006-11-21 09:36 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2006-11-21 11:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-22 03:12 pm (UTC)This is a great piece. I do think Fraser "fell endlessly" over/for/during Victoria's arc. Breaks my heart, it does.
OH, FRASER.
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Date: 2006-11-22 06:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-22 03:26 pm (UTC)evocative and well done...
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Date: 2006-11-22 06:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-23 05:12 pm (UTC)Wonderfully done.
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