Life, a lancer fanfic

Life

life

life [līf]

existence in physical world: the quality that makes living animals and plants different from dead organisms and inorganic matter.

Its functions include the ability to take in food, adapt to the environment, grow, and reproduce.

way in which somebody lives: the character or conditions of somebody's existence

characteristic way of living

vitality:

we liked him because he was so full of life.

get a life to do something to improve your situation or change your lifestyle for the better (slang)

Early morning at Lancer, a grand estancia in the San Juaquin Valley in California, a working ranch a home to the three men named Lancer, a way of life embraced by all.

He rolled over onto his back, the bed molding itself to his lean body. One arm over his head, now covered in tousled ebony hair from a night of frequent tossing and turning, the other arm laying on his flat stomach... a smile on his face as the aforementioned stomach growled its release from hunger.

Dark blue eyes opened, a yawn split his face with a jaw cracking sound a sigh escaped. It was a sigh of contentment, of life, of joy and wonder.

Lying still, he listened to the sounds around him, a heavy set of footsteps moved past his door and down the hallway. Another smile fell on his lips... his father... was it only a few short months ago he did not assume he had father.

His life had been anything but normal; shifting in bed, he felt his bladder protest. He had time before he embarrassed himself... he had not been a kid in years.

Wiping a hand over the stubble on his chin, ok so he was nineteen and the stubble wouldn't really be a problem for a year or two yet, he had to shave...he hated the feel of whiskers on his chin.

Though he smiled again, some of the girls and women told him it made him look older and audacious. Audacious... he had had to ask Scott about that word, it fit him perfectly.

Hearing another set of footfalls moving past his door he grinned.

A little devilment, admiration and heart felt joy, crossed his face. Scott his big brother... dios, having a father was strange enough... having a big brother nearly did him in.

Where he had only imagined a father growing up... he had dreamed about and wished so hard for an older brother. It had taken him nineteen years to find his father and his brother... Dios!

Life was sure picky, who would have thought that he, a half Mex half white kid would end up on one of the biggest estancias as a third owner.

Who would have thought a top gunfighter would be here... life was ever changing; he had learned that long ago.

Do not dwell in the past; do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present. (Buddha)

Scott Lancer glanced at the stairs that lead to the kitchen, where he now sat with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. The quick footfalls and jingling spurs told him his 'little' brother was up and on the move.

Johnny Lancer appeared in the kitchen, never breaking stride or acknowledging his father or brother, he proceeded outside... to take care of some urgent business.

Reaching the open door to the outside, he ran into a petite dark haired woman. Grabbing her shoulders to keep her from bouncing out of his way, he shifted her to the side and continued his journey, a hurried "Sorry," thrown over his shoulder.

"Johnny Lancer if you had broken these eggs you would have been sorry only cause you wouldn't get your eggs and bacon," shaking her head she entered the kitchen and sat the basket with fresh eggs on the counter, "Why doesn't he get up earlier to 'take care of business'," she said to no one in particular.

Teresa O'Brien, Murdoch Lancers ward, the daughter of his late segundo and best friend smiled at the other two men in the room.

"Good morning," Teresa said as she moved over to Murdoch and gave him a peck on his cheek. He was her rock, the man who took in an orphan and raised her as his own.

Murdoch Lancer, successful rancher, community pillar of society and recently father, smiled up at the young woman, "He was always like that as a toddler, and he would wait until the last minute."

His unspoken thoughts returned to the past and his dark haired toddler rushing, always moving. Missing his 'baby' for seventeen years he was determined to make up for lost time. Time... his second wife's departure and her taking his son... time stood still for seventeen years.

Looking across the table to his elder son, he drank in the blond haired young man as a man in the desert drank in water.

Scott his first-born son, he had never seen his son born... had never seen him until he was five, then more lonely years until Scott came home.

Catherine, Scott's mother and Murdoch's first wife, was his life... his soul mate... the mother of the first born of a Lancer legacy. Died giving their son life, her father taking the child to Boston... the boy raised with all the privilege money could buy, and all the graces high society demanded was at last home and a father's heart began to heal and feel life again.

In three words

I can sum up everything I've learned about life:

It goes on. (Robert Frost)

Teresa turned to her 'brother' Scott, "I see you are up early as well," smiling she teased her brother, "No last minute rushes outside... or can I fill up that coffee cup?"

Scott looked up from his perusal of the letter he held in his hand, "I unlike my 'little' brother have much better control over such situations," his smile lit up his serious face and made him look younger, "I would appreciate a refill."

Teresa put a small hand on his shoulder leaned down and gave the top of his blond head a light kiss, "You talk like that and I can't deny you anything... well almost."

She turned nearly running into the energetic dark haired Lancer son, "Johnny... stop sneaking up on me... one of these days..."

Johnny grabbed her up by her elbows and shifted her to the side, grinning he looked down at her, "Then 'little' sister stop blocking' my way."

Having dismissed her he zeroed in on his brother, "Letter from your cantankerous grandfather, he sure does like ta write a lot. Most things can be said without all that."

He waved a hand towards the letter and sat down at his place at the table.

Scott looked up at his brother, so different, so exciting such an enigma, "Sometimes 'brother' the use of eloquent elocution is a boon to the ear of fine gentlemen, much more than the guttural grunts of un cultured scoundrels."

Johnny smiled at Scott... "Well I ain't been ta no fancy college, but I know one thing one grunt can say much more than a page fulla fancy words."

Scott grunted and Johnny laughed along with Murdoch, Teresa and Maria, the housekeeper.

Scott smiled back, "I stand corrected little brother... you are so much more clever than any Harvard scholar."

The brother's looked at each other, no hidden agendas, no resentment... only admiration, trust and, yes, love passed between blue grey eyes and deep blue eyes.

Over looking both sons, a father gave thought to his long denied dream.

Only a life

lived for others

is a life worthwhile.

(Albert Einstein)

never ending (solista 10/2013)