by StarWolf
2/25/2005
Title: Revonation
Author: StarWolf (elendraug at yahoo dot com)
Fandom: Metal Gear Solid
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst.
Pairing: Dave x Hal.
Warnings: Slight slash, canon death references, A/Uish.
Disclaimer: Kojima's, not mine.
Distribution: Thinking of archiving this? Please call 1-(800)-LOL-NOPE.
Summary: The sequence ends.
Author's Notes: Set in Sons of Liberty. For the LJ mgsslash challenge -- "third time lucky." Summary taken from Massive Attack's "Everywhen."
blessed are they who mourn
The cool metal-and-plastic case of the CPU is a comfort against Hal's shaking fingertips. His glasses reflect dim light from the monitor and fluorescent bulbs overhead. Within the past minutes, his composure has been utterly shattered and refashioned from the lingering remnants. He's afraid it's about to happen again.
"First Wolf, now Emma..."
Listless, he steps forward -- only slightly -- and looks up at Dave through sweatsoaked, mussed bangs. His eyes are red, his nose is dripping mucus that makes it tough to breathe (as if he needed it to be even more difficult), and his feet are uncomfortable from the constant standing. Lacking proper carbon dioxide to sigh deeply, Hal shifts his attention to the row of consoles and wishes that something could console him.
Dave watches him pace uneasily in a very small circle. It's not actually a circle, he supposes; afterall, those continue on forever, constantly spinning the same way. Hal's close to breaking the proverbial cycle, and only an influx of optimism could curb it.
Jack left a while ago.
No shoulder-touches. No reassuring hugs. No sympathy kisses. Dave's words are worth the same as the picture Hal has painted and locked away in the recesses of his anguished mind; nowhere close to a thousand, but quality over quantity, right?
"Then we'd better make damn sure we really live before that happens."
Encouraging enough. Hal tries to smile, but his gaze, just like Emma's, is blank. As if a lead weight, he collapses to the floor in a heap of lab coat, rimless lenses, floppy disks, and chopsticks. The smell of damp cloth on cold skin assaults his nose. No, no, no, god no. He needs to be... He needs... Just...
Dave wants everything to rewind.
