ilcuoreardendo: (save the world)
[personal profile] ilcuoreardendo
More ficlets from the music meme.

The Meme:

Choose a subject and put your entire music collection on shuffle, hit play, and write. Write for as long as each song plays and move on to a different writing when the song switches (even if it's mid-sentence). Go for 5-10 songs.

Title: Fly
Song: "I'm Sensitive" - Jewel
Characters/Pairing: Nathan, Peter, Angela
Rating: G
Genre: Pre-Series
Warnings: None

I was thinking that I might fly today
Just to disprove all the things that you say

“Nathan! Look at me. I can fly.”

He’s taken Peter to the park.

10 years old and the kid’s still pretending to be a super hero. At least Nathan had managed to talk him into leaving the cape at home today.

“That’s great, Pete.” He eyes the boy perched on the top rung of the jungle gym. “Now c’mon. Ma’ll have my head if I don’t get you back in time to have a bath before the party.”

“But, I can fly.” In Peter’s voice is the kind of heartsick disbelief that only a 10 year old can convey when his older brother, his hero, doesn’t believe in him. “I’ll show you.”

And Peter jumps.

Nathan can almost dismiss the sight of his baby brother hovering, for just a moment, in mid-air as a trick of the light, the too many Jack and Cokes he’d swigged at his pre-birthday party the night before.

Unfortunately, Nathan’s not able to dismiss the wrenching cries or the lumpy evidence of the sprained—possibly broken—wrist he sees as he picks Peter off the hard packed dirt and sets him on his feet.

Or, later, the pinched, secretive look Ma wears on her face when Peter, now medicated—with his wrist braced and bandaged—and clam-happy on the table in the ER, tries to tell her about his flight.

Title: Freedom Unbound
Song: "306" - Emilie Autumn
Characters/Pairing: Claire
Rating: G
Genre: Post-Series (so, technically AU)
Warnings: Mentions of character death

My reasons to live
Were my reasons to die
But at least they were mine
Now I’ve freedom unbound
Cut the laces of life

It’s been nearly a century since she should have died. Since then, she’s pretended to be her own granddaughter, great niece, fourth cousin six times removed.

Now, she thinks it’s time to give up the Bennett family name.

She’s watched over them—some kind of genetic twist on the guardian angel myth—long enough to see the line dwindle and, finally, pass with the death of Lyle’s childless great, great, great grandson.

Tomorrow, she will go to the cemetery and put nondescript white Tulips on her father’s grave, a spray of delicate blue Forget-Me-Nots on her mother’s.

In the language of flowers, they mean forgiveness. And forever remembering.

Crossposted: [ profile] heroes_fic, The Spaces Between
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