AN So it's like two am and I got six hours of sleep in the last 48 hours and I was feeling like killing someone, and this character is one of my favorites too kill so this happened. Songfic to Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah. Not the first one.
This story is about one Tim McGee, and while it doesn't use his name, it does use male pronouns and is in his perspective. The fact that I am going to imply slash is a little hesitant, because no names are given and it's one-sided. My idea for the love interest implied's identity is revealed at the end, but if you don't like slash or gayness of any shape or form, click back now, because any and all flames are intolerable.
Holy shit TRIGGER WARNINGS. Suicide! Brief mentions of abuse, physical and mental, and self harm.
Pretty much creepy on many levels too, for me its either all fluff or its ANGST. This is the latter. By-products of no sleep and really wanting to murder… I won't go there. And omg I made it passed 1,000 words! yayyyyy!
The characters aren't mine (All one portrayed, and other briefly there.) Neither is the song.
Sorry for the rantings.
For J. I love you, I swear it girl.
The sweet and sad melody began to play. He sat there, frozen, unmoving. Frozen for the lost moments. All that lost love. Wasn't that why he was here, lost love. No. He'd never had it to begin with. Never would. And maybe that was why he was there, maybe that was a justifiable reason for his cause and effect. That's how he liked to think of it.
He looked across the room to the empty desk in front of him. There was nothing left but darkness. His lamp the only soft glow. Perhaps in his own way, here he could be the king of his own kingdom. Perhaps. In the night, maybe. But come daytime and sunshine, fantasy replaces itself with reality, and the music dies.
Yes. He hadn't wanted the music to die before… before. So here he was, well past midnight. Moonlight pouring in through the tall windows. Selene help him. Take im away to your beautiful moonlight-kingdom. Do with him what you please, but take him away.
Besides, music hadn't always been his forte. Sure he could play the piano well, and unbeknownst to his co-workers, the violin as well. But he loved the notes, the simplicity in the complexity. Not like life. Life was just… hell. So why not drift away to the recollection of the beauty in them. Then he wouldn't be thinking of his reasons… not like his mind was constantly filled by them at all.
He smirked to himself, he knew that his broken hallelujah would never be heard again. No one needed to do so anyway. His words, while loudly spoken and filled with much, we never heard any way. It wouldn't matter in the long run, would it. He wouldn't. So yes, he was right for doing this. Right for giving himself a release too. He deserved one, right? Don't we all?
The pill bottle was on the desk in front of him. He grabbed the vodka that he had stashed. Thinking, 'this is how I end the pain. This can be the end of the ache.'
'End the ache End the void. End… you.' The voice in his head told him. That damned voice. Always annoying, but ever so right. Because maybe if he listened well enough he'd be right. Maybe stuttered apologies don't have to be the place he was assigned to. Maybe he could be free. For once in his life, even if it meant the end of it too. A sacrifice he had to make. Sometimes they were made. Here's another. Just one more.
He unscrewed the child-proof cap. His mind racing with; 'here's to the broken Hallelujah. Here's to the ones with scars hiding inside.'
A fearful realization, he found. That he'd toast to another before his own end.
How comical. And truly, to many others he had always been just that. Always been the laughing stock. Always the rodeo clown, never the cowboy.
'Save the day.. Isn't that their purpose though?' He head questioned.
'Sure. Like that was ever me.' Continued the internal dialogue.
He looked around to make sure he was alone. Then he made sure that Hallelujah would keep playing until manually stopped. Because no one had had been there to let him talk about what was going on below. His holy dove was missing. What he wouldn't have given to find it. Too late now, he thought. To late. He was to far gone. Because now, he could not go back. Ever.
He dumped the contents of the bottle into his hand as Jeff Buckley crooned the final cords. Maybe if there was a God, he would go to heaven. Maybe then there would be heaven. Maybe someone had heard his broken prayers. But there had already been to many…
So here goes blind faith. Except he lost his when he was a child and had prayed for the scars to go away and they didn't. They still remained. His own and his father's. His wrists, his back, his mind.
This wouldn't leave any more. No more poetic blood from his youth. It was simply time to go. Go forever.
As the tears filled his eyes he brought the full hand to his mouth. He turned to the vodka and broke the seal. And as he swallowed, he was barely aware of the *ding* in the background.
He opened his eyes, just nearly, to see the blue eyes he had fallen so hard for.
"Goodbye love." He whispered as he fell into darkness.
Hallelujah
AN: So in my head the main character is one Timothy McGee, as he is my favorite and often dies in my head-canons. The Love interest I was thinking of was Gibbs, but if that doesn't suit you I'm sure you can fill the blank for yourself. Reviews are lovely, and mean the world. My stuff on heaven and stuff is of no importance, as I am not a firm believer in anything. Please make my day with pressing that button below!