I don't know what's wrong with me lately.
Jun. 4th, 2003 08:41 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
the-star-fish.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionEverything turns to angst, and I'm not very pleased with that. But here's 322 words, post-ep Victoria's Secret.
The last four numbers start to blur and he has to blink rapidly in order to finish dialling. He hears the ringing at the other end and he thinks maybe if he hangs up now, if he doesn't have to say it out loud, it won't have happened.
"Hello?"
He tries to speak, and fails. Clears his throat and tries again. "Frannie?"
Silence, then: "What's wrong?"
"It's ... it's Benny. He's ...."
He hears her muttering; the rhythm sounds like the Hail Mary. He lets her finish, there's no hurry for what he needs to say. Maybe it'll help, who knows. He can't really remember any prayers except Please God, let me take it back, and that one's not working.
"How bad?" she says finally, her voice fearful but determined. His eyes fill again -- she would've made a good cop's wife. Just ... not the cop she wants.
"How bad?" she shrieks, and his mouth works but nothing comes out.
The receiver is taken from his hand, and he hears Welsh's voice giving Frannie the details, hears Frannie's tinny responses, but none of it's real.
Please, God, I'll do anything.
"Ray," says Welsh gently, and that's not right, Welsh doesn't talk to him like that, except he is, and nothing's right, never will be, ever again.
"Ray," says Welsh again, and hands him back the phone, "your sister wants to talk to you."
He takes the receiver reluctantly. He can just imagine what she'll have to say to him.
"I'm on my way," is what he hears. "I'm on a plane as fast as I can get to the airport. Faster, maybe."
"It was me, Frannie," he says. Aloud, he thinks. I said it aloud. Now it's real.
"I know," she says. "I'm on my way, Ray. Hang in there."
"Pray for him, Frannie," he whispers.
"For both of you," she says, and hangs up.
The last four numbers start to blur and he has to blink rapidly in order to finish dialling. He hears the ringing at the other end and he thinks maybe if he hangs up now, if he doesn't have to say it out loud, it won't have happened.
"Hello?"
He tries to speak, and fails. Clears his throat and tries again. "Frannie?"
Silence, then: "What's wrong?"
"It's ... it's Benny. He's ...."
He hears her muttering; the rhythm sounds like the Hail Mary. He lets her finish, there's no hurry for what he needs to say. Maybe it'll help, who knows. He can't really remember any prayers except Please God, let me take it back, and that one's not working.
"How bad?" she says finally, her voice fearful but determined. His eyes fill again -- she would've made a good cop's wife. Just ... not the cop she wants.
"How bad?" she shrieks, and his mouth works but nothing comes out.
The receiver is taken from his hand, and he hears Welsh's voice giving Frannie the details, hears Frannie's tinny responses, but none of it's real.
Please, God, I'll do anything.
"Ray," says Welsh gently, and that's not right, Welsh doesn't talk to him like that, except he is, and nothing's right, never will be, ever again.
"Ray," says Welsh again, and hands him back the phone, "your sister wants to talk to you."
He takes the receiver reluctantly. He can just imagine what she'll have to say to him.
"I'm on my way," is what he hears. "I'm on a plane as fast as I can get to the airport. Faster, maybe."
"It was me, Frannie," he says. Aloud, he thinks. I said it aloud. Now it's real.
"I know," she says. "I'm on my way, Ray. Hang in there."
"Pray for him, Frannie," he whispers.
"For both of you," she says, and hangs up.
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Date: 2003-06-11 03:47 am (UTC)::pulls hair out, runs away (after hugging Ces)::
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Date: 2003-06-11 10:20 am (UTC)