TITLE: Murder of a Rose
AUTHOR: Drusilla --- spikes_pet@canada.com --- http://www.cityofhellville.com/sweet
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: Rory / Jess / Tristan
DISCLAIMERS: I'm only toying with the characters. They don't belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended.
WARNINGS: SLASH-y-ness
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Part THREE of a series. Follows Portrait of a Lone Wolf (first in the series) and The Temptation of Ate (second in the series). Please, *please* do not tell me you don't understand if you haven't read the first two!
Also, please don't complain that Jess and Tristan are gay. This is my fic. I wrote them this way. If you don't want them to be gay, go write your own. Besides, I do believe you have enough warning, plus there really isn't much action in this one.
--- MURDER OF A ROSE ---
The funeral was a lavish affair. Velvet-black horses hauled a polished black coffin that bore the body of his mother. Tristan had, almost reluctantly, come home for it. It was how the two had met, as far as I could remember.
"Pretty," He said, his face composed in his characteristic smirk, as though he had for a second forgotten the pretense of his grief. Atleast he'd dressed for her, was my thought dimly, when I saw him in a neat dark suit and a white chrysanthemum in his pocket. I was amazed at his ease. His head rested lazily to the side, his blond hair soft and tousled. I'd replied haughtily-- "That's Jess."-- with a glare. "Jess-- Tristan. Tristan-- Jess." Why I'd brought the latter was a mystery as much as why I was here. "I'm still with Dean, you know..." and the two had eyed each other suspiciously, and then shaken hands.
The warmth of Tristan's grip brought me from my reverie.
I couldn't pretend to understand what they had for each other. Its possibility, even, was as alien to me as it would have been to any creature of my upbringing. Was it so strange to find them arm in arm with each other? Common sense said no. I, on the other hand, was doubtful.
But presently this was unimportant. Tristan was squeezing me so hard I winced, but he didn't notice. The same thoughts must have been tormenting his head. 'What if Luke was wrong... what if he'd been on a different bus...'
My practicality told me it would be a waste of time, even driving at better than ninety, if we couldn't stop Jess. My heart told me I'd lose something far more important, far more precious.
The door opened finally, and the passengers stepped out slowly, one by one, and then Jess came out.
My first impulse was to scream at him, and my second to take him into my arms and never let go. I did neither. None of us moved. The world must have fallen away then, and the space that remained was utterly still. *Dead.*
"Jess--" came from Tristan, brokenly. His pale eyes glistened, his mouth parted, almost girlish. He seemed so very lost at that moment, as I'd never seen him before.
"Tristan. Rory." Jess nodded to each of us, his voice deceptively soft. He moved as if to leave.
"Jess, please." I reached out and touched his arm, and he froze. "Why are you leaving?"
He seemed to snarl at us with disgust. "Goddamnit, why can't you people leave me alone?"
And Tristan answered, in a very small, defeated voice, "Maybe because we love you."
We all stiffened, but wasn't that the truth? But he laughed, suddenly, and I could see Tristan flinch, hurt. "Love?" Jess smiled with false cheer. "Ah, yes. Love. We love each other don't we?" He paused to smirk. "Perhaps. But what does love do, really, except eat you away?"
I closed my eyes then, feeling nauseous. He always did this. He always killed you in the end. He looked at us, his eyes narrowed, and I pictured him a fallen angel. I took my hand away from him and his eyes followed it back to its spot, tucked around my waist. "God Jess, you always have to do this. Haven't you read enough? Haven't you read this situation so many times? Didn't you ever think, God, that person must be pretty fucked up to walk away from that love? You're just afraid. You're afraid of the one thing you have going for you." The words were harsher than I had expected. Tristan looked at me, surprised, and Jess eyed me angrily.
"No, see, you're the one who doesn't understand in the end. You think, because you prance around with your crazy-ass mother and your dull hic boyfriend that you've got love all figured out." His face twisted with fury and disgust. "But what do you really know, Rory? All your books. You don't know shit."
The sounds came at me in torrents, and the colours clashed around us. I was spinning, utterly and completely, in some ferocious inner dance. I felt Tristan's hands pushing me gently but forcefully away, and collapsed inwards into myself. Some part of me was lost to the world then. I couldn't fathom it.
I hadn't realized how long we'd been like this, but then the other passengers began to reboard for the final leg of the journey. I looked at Jess, and whispered, "Don't you have any respect for love?"
Tristan reached out and brought their lips together for a moment. It seemed a sacrilege to watch them.
"More than you realize."
But I shook my head no. That was the wrong answer. Why didn't such things work out as they so often did in books?
We were still standing by the door of the bus and the driver was glaring at us impatiently. "We're leaving in five seconds!" was his growl.
"But I, unlike the world, completely understand." He shouldered his backpack and pressed his lips to Tristan's forehead.
"No goodbye kiss?" It was a whisper and it was mine.
He looked at me solemnly. "No. No first kiss."
And the part of me that was lost then was my heart.
--- END ---
I'd really love to know what you thought... would it be so difficult to say a few words and review? Pleeeease?
Also, look for Part 4 (which will probably be the last part) in a week or so. It will most likely be called "Threnody for the Fallen."
AUTHOR: Drusilla --- spikes_pet@canada.com --- http://www.cityofhellville.com/sweet
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: Rory / Jess / Tristan
DISCLAIMERS: I'm only toying with the characters. They don't belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended.
WARNINGS: SLASH-y-ness
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Part THREE of a series. Follows Portrait of a Lone Wolf (first in the series) and The Temptation of Ate (second in the series). Please, *please* do not tell me you don't understand if you haven't read the first two!
Also, please don't complain that Jess and Tristan are gay. This is my fic. I wrote them this way. If you don't want them to be gay, go write your own. Besides, I do believe you have enough warning, plus there really isn't much action in this one.
--- MURDER OF A ROSE ---
The funeral was a lavish affair. Velvet-black horses hauled a polished black coffin that bore the body of his mother. Tristan had, almost reluctantly, come home for it. It was how the two had met, as far as I could remember.
"Pretty," He said, his face composed in his characteristic smirk, as though he had for a second forgotten the pretense of his grief. Atleast he'd dressed for her, was my thought dimly, when I saw him in a neat dark suit and a white chrysanthemum in his pocket. I was amazed at his ease. His head rested lazily to the side, his blond hair soft and tousled. I'd replied haughtily-- "That's Jess."-- with a glare. "Jess-- Tristan. Tristan-- Jess." Why I'd brought the latter was a mystery as much as why I was here. "I'm still with Dean, you know..." and the two had eyed each other suspiciously, and then shaken hands.
The warmth of Tristan's grip brought me from my reverie.
I couldn't pretend to understand what they had for each other. Its possibility, even, was as alien to me as it would have been to any creature of my upbringing. Was it so strange to find them arm in arm with each other? Common sense said no. I, on the other hand, was doubtful.
But presently this was unimportant. Tristan was squeezing me so hard I winced, but he didn't notice. The same thoughts must have been tormenting his head. 'What if Luke was wrong... what if he'd been on a different bus...'
My practicality told me it would be a waste of time, even driving at better than ninety, if we couldn't stop Jess. My heart told me I'd lose something far more important, far more precious.
The door opened finally, and the passengers stepped out slowly, one by one, and then Jess came out.
My first impulse was to scream at him, and my second to take him into my arms and never let go. I did neither. None of us moved. The world must have fallen away then, and the space that remained was utterly still. *Dead.*
"Jess--" came from Tristan, brokenly. His pale eyes glistened, his mouth parted, almost girlish. He seemed so very lost at that moment, as I'd never seen him before.
"Tristan. Rory." Jess nodded to each of us, his voice deceptively soft. He moved as if to leave.
"Jess, please." I reached out and touched his arm, and he froze. "Why are you leaving?"
He seemed to snarl at us with disgust. "Goddamnit, why can't you people leave me alone?"
And Tristan answered, in a very small, defeated voice, "Maybe because we love you."
We all stiffened, but wasn't that the truth? But he laughed, suddenly, and I could see Tristan flinch, hurt. "Love?" Jess smiled with false cheer. "Ah, yes. Love. We love each other don't we?" He paused to smirk. "Perhaps. But what does love do, really, except eat you away?"
I closed my eyes then, feeling nauseous. He always did this. He always killed you in the end. He looked at us, his eyes narrowed, and I pictured him a fallen angel. I took my hand away from him and his eyes followed it back to its spot, tucked around my waist. "God Jess, you always have to do this. Haven't you read enough? Haven't you read this situation so many times? Didn't you ever think, God, that person must be pretty fucked up to walk away from that love? You're just afraid. You're afraid of the one thing you have going for you." The words were harsher than I had expected. Tristan looked at me, surprised, and Jess eyed me angrily.
"No, see, you're the one who doesn't understand in the end. You think, because you prance around with your crazy-ass mother and your dull hic boyfriend that you've got love all figured out." His face twisted with fury and disgust. "But what do you really know, Rory? All your books. You don't know shit."
The sounds came at me in torrents, and the colours clashed around us. I was spinning, utterly and completely, in some ferocious inner dance. I felt Tristan's hands pushing me gently but forcefully away, and collapsed inwards into myself. Some part of me was lost to the world then. I couldn't fathom it.
I hadn't realized how long we'd been like this, but then the other passengers began to reboard for the final leg of the journey. I looked at Jess, and whispered, "Don't you have any respect for love?"
Tristan reached out and brought their lips together for a moment. It seemed a sacrilege to watch them.
"More than you realize."
But I shook my head no. That was the wrong answer. Why didn't such things work out as they so often did in books?
We were still standing by the door of the bus and the driver was glaring at us impatiently. "We're leaving in five seconds!" was his growl.
"But I, unlike the world, completely understand." He shouldered his backpack and pressed his lips to Tristan's forehead.
"No goodbye kiss?" It was a whisper and it was mine.
He looked at me solemnly. "No. No first kiss."
And the part of me that was lost then was my heart.
--- END ---
I'd really love to know what you thought... would it be so difficult to say a few words and review? Pleeeease?
Also, look for Part 4 (which will probably be the last part) in a week or so. It will most likely be called "Threnody for the Fallen."