ds_flashfiction | Five Challenge

joandarck.livejournal.com posting in

Pairing: Can I say various?
Rating: PG
Length: 775 words
Warnings: Just to make sure this is absolutely clear -- this is deathfic. Lots of it. Seriously. Just wall-to-wall AU death, here...

Five Tragic Deaths That Were, In Reality, Averted
or, The Absolutely Inaccurate Epilogue

I.

"He was the greatest man I ever knew." Huey blew his nose. His best suit was tight around the shoulders.

"A fine officer and a good friend," Fraser said with deep regret.

"He had a killer strike... right for those pins, every time. No gutterballs," Dewey sobbed.

Turnbull mused in his thin, earnest voice, "The pathos of it. Fickle fate takes a hand. Who could have imagined that an extra-large hoagie and a special issue of Sports Illustrated would have formed such a deadly combination?"

"Well," Ray said, shoving his hands in his pockets and trying not to choke up. "At least he died happy."

The mortal remains of Harding Welsh looked up at the ceiling, a peaceful smile on his face at last.

II.

Hmmmm, Mort said. And how are the benefits?

Never feel cold or hungry again, Bob said helpfully, rubbing his hands. Choice of venues if you want to make any personal appearances... provide guidance to the ones you leave behind, that sort of thing...

Mort tsked thoughtfully in his head. His body was unconscious. Someone had displayed too much enthusiasm and devotion to duty when mopping the tile surface.

And the music! Bob Fraser said, craggy face lighting up. Heavenly choirs... the music of the spheres... the greatest talents of every era in history. He looked back down. And none of those uncomfortable little metal chairs.

Yes. All right, Mort said. He let his aching mind, the long effort of his life, slip away into the pool on the floor.

III.

"You don't understand. I killed her," Turnbull gasped into his handkerchief. Thatcher patted his back awkwardly.

"No, I did, sir," he protested through earnest snuffles. "Just as surely as if I took this kerchief, sir, and tied it around your neck and throttled you until the constriction of the air passageway–"

"Yes, Constable, I get the idea. There's no need to go on."

"All the Turnbulls have substantial bone structure. Broad shoulders, broad hips... you should hear my sister Essie complain, sir – and – big heads. I warned her! I begged her to consider a c-section! But she insisted that after three miracle births, the fourth should be easy... my little Francesca!" He collapsed into maudlin but surprisingly fluent Italian.

Thatcher girded her mental loins. This would not be easy, and Lord knew she despised these emotional scenes, but she couldn't stand coward while another officer was in such distress. "Turnbull," she said, trying to be gentle. He paid no heed. "Turnbull!" He snapped to attention and she wiped her shoulder. "There's something - you should know. I'm afraid everyone else did. Did you never look at those babies, their... charming little faces, and wonder..."

He looked at her, his blank blue eyes innocent enough to make her doubt whether he even knew what would have been involved if – She shunted that thought to the circular file immediately and came to the point. "As you were her husband, I assume she may have left you a letter explaining. I'm not clear on the details. I don't believe anybody was. But I can assure you beyond a shadow of a doubt that you weren't the father."

IV.

He had been handsome, lithe, insatiable, and hung like a horse. And a liar.

"For Queen and country, then," Meg Thatcher said to herself, and began eating the document containing her orders. Those doors would only hold out for thirty more seconds, but there would be just enough time for the cyanide pill.

V.

"Wow. Huh. How about that. Really?"

"Really. In fact, I think I fell in love with you at first sight. Although I was slow to recognize it at the time, characterizing it only as a sort of vast mental confusion, with some accompanying symptoms of fever."

"Well, the thing that sucks about that, Fraser, and the one reason I am not really glad to hear it right now, is I kinda wish you'd gotten around to telling me before we got stuck side by side in this other and apparently more deadly ice crevasse."

"Yes, I understand that, Ray, and I'm sorry."

"Hey. No problem."

"I wish... that is..."

"I know, buddy. I know."

"...At least side by side is more comfortable than face to face?"

"Screw that, at least the other way I coulda gotten some action."

"Well, that's a point."

"But we're not gonna die, right? Not really. We never have yet. Dief, you said Dief was coming back soon. He's a rescue dog. Nose like an eagle. He'll save us. He'll save us, won't he, Fraser?"

"Oh, yes. Well...."

"Well?!"

"I mean..."

"What? Mean what?"

"He'll save us if he sees us."

~THE END~