Fic - Quit
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shadowknightTitle: Quit
Rating: PG
Universe: Home
Timeline: January 11th, 2006
Written: January 11th, 2006
Summary: "It started off as a rant against fate and ended up being a rant against God."
It started off as a rant against fate and ended up being a rant against God.
The sea rolling in drowned most of it out.
Mike never really did much questioning of either fate or God. He just didn't. He had always believed that what will be, will be. He took life by the day, and when bad things happened, he just lowered his head and plowed on through, letting troubles roll off like water off of a duck's back. Sure, there were times that he got real close to coming up against the edge of his own endurance, but he hadn't quit yet.
Yet.
It was strange that an act of submission could also be an act of blatant defiance.
Strange that in seeming to quit, you can find the strength to bite back.
"Fine!" he snarled at the night sky, not caring if anyone heard. "You wanted me to quit? Fine! I quit!"
He didn't sound like someone who had given up, though, despite the words. It was mostly anger, and frustration, and still that underlying soul-deep desperation, but it wasn't the tone of someone passive.
If anything, it was downright aggressive.
He didn't expect an answer, and didn't get one. At least, not one that he could possibly interpret. The sea just kept rolling in, the stars just kept crossing the sky, and the people he lived for just didn't appear.
"You win," he said, more calmly, though there was still a sharp edge in his voice. He narrowed his eyes at the sky. "You win.
"I quit."
He was gone by the time dawn faded into the eastern sky, to God knows where. It was, in one part, a retreat. It was, at the same time, a rebellion. Which it was more of was anyone's guess; chances are, he didn't even know himself.
The bottle bumped up onto the shore just after sunrise.
Rating: PG
Universe: Home
Timeline: January 11th, 2006
Written: January 11th, 2006
Summary: "It started off as a rant against fate and ended up being a rant against God."
It started off as a rant against fate and ended up being a rant against God.
The sea rolling in drowned most of it out.
Mike never really did much questioning of either fate or God. He just didn't. He had always believed that what will be, will be. He took life by the day, and when bad things happened, he just lowered his head and plowed on through, letting troubles roll off like water off of a duck's back. Sure, there were times that he got real close to coming up against the edge of his own endurance, but he hadn't quit yet.
Yet.
It was strange that an act of submission could also be an act of blatant defiance.
Strange that in seeming to quit, you can find the strength to bite back.
"Fine!" he snarled at the night sky, not caring if anyone heard. "You wanted me to quit? Fine! I quit!"
He didn't sound like someone who had given up, though, despite the words. It was mostly anger, and frustration, and still that underlying soul-deep desperation, but it wasn't the tone of someone passive.
If anything, it was downright aggressive.
He didn't expect an answer, and didn't get one. At least, not one that he could possibly interpret. The sea just kept rolling in, the stars just kept crossing the sky, and the people he lived for just didn't appear.
"You win," he said, more calmly, though there was still a sharp edge in his voice. He narrowed his eyes at the sky. "You win.
"I quit."
He was gone by the time dawn faded into the eastern sky, to God knows where. It was, in one part, a retreat. It was, at the same time, a rebellion. Which it was more of was anyone's guess; chances are, he didn't even know himself.
The bottle bumped up onto the shore just after sunrise.
