Fic - Haunted
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shadowknightTitle: Haunted
Rating: G
Universe: Alternate
Timeline: February 5th, 2006
Written: February 5th, 2006
Summary: Mike's haunted by the echoes of another universe. Some quotes from Carl Sandburg.
Waiting in the sky, waiting with slow easy eyes, waiting and half-murmuring:
“Since you know all
and I know nothing..."
He hadn't gotten far enough away yet. But it was dark, and he was just too tired to keep going, so he managed to get a small fire going and waited for it to burn to red-hot coals, then dug a shallow trench, spread the coals along the bottom, covered them with dirt, then bedded down on that warm spot that would stay warm most of the night.
Mike knew that he should have been more diligent. Being careless got people killed. But he couldn't keep going any more and just needed to sleep, and would have to put his faith in God that he'd see the next morning.
So he slept, fairly warm despite the fact he'd left one of his hides back at that cabin.
"...tell me what I dreamed last night.”
It was a deep sleep, but not an easy one. It was like when summer was high and the flies buzzed around him and Josh as they rode, and he had to constantly bat them away or end up just as bitten as his horse. He tried to bat away at these things buzzing around his dreamscape, but they kept circling anyway.
A flash of sunlight, and little pieces of conversation.
"Sure, but like me... you've known a month..."
"Yeah, but I know you."
He couldn't shake those voices in his head. It rattled him, because he knew them. Knew them. Not heard them once, but knew them like he'd always known them, always would know them. It didn't reconcile itself well with his usually very plain and practical view on life.
Dreams didn't reconcile. Couldn't reconcile. Live by the saddle, by the stone and dust and sand and dirt and snow of a thousand paths, by the steady march of seasons and the way sunlight hits mountains, but not by dreams or by people.
"...but I know you..."
He pulled the hide tight over his head in his sleep, trying to keep the dreams away, trying to make them leave. There was no one left he knew, his family was dead, he was all that was left, and even those people he cared about in passing didn't know him and he didn't know them, not in any real sense.
Trust didn't reconcile. Couldn't reconcile. Live by the bow, by the .45, by the constant running back and forth and to different places, by the never ending mission to get somewhere, even if you don't know where that is, but not by people, or by trusting people.
He had no home.
Why did those voices feel like home?
“Since you know all
and I know nothing..."
He curled his arms around his ears, desperate to find that calm again, where none of this happened and it was just the trail and the mission and nothing more. He didn't want to feel like this, like he was suddenly lost and falling and couldn't pull himself back up.
Like the only way to climb back up was to go back and say, "I know you."
Finally, though, the dreams gave way to bone-heavy exhaustion. Somewhere, subconsciously, far beyond awareness, he hoped he would forget.
Or remember.
"...tell me what I dreamed last night.”
Rating: G
Universe: Alternate
Timeline: February 5th, 2006
Written: February 5th, 2006
Summary: Mike's haunted by the echoes of another universe. Some quotes from Carl Sandburg.
Waiting in the sky, waiting with slow easy eyes, waiting and half-murmuring:
“Since you know all
and I know nothing..."
He hadn't gotten far enough away yet. But it was dark, and he was just too tired to keep going, so he managed to get a small fire going and waited for it to burn to red-hot coals, then dug a shallow trench, spread the coals along the bottom, covered them with dirt, then bedded down on that warm spot that would stay warm most of the night.
Mike knew that he should have been more diligent. Being careless got people killed. But he couldn't keep going any more and just needed to sleep, and would have to put his faith in God that he'd see the next morning.
So he slept, fairly warm despite the fact he'd left one of his hides back at that cabin.
"...tell me what I dreamed last night.”
It was a deep sleep, but not an easy one. It was like when summer was high and the flies buzzed around him and Josh as they rode, and he had to constantly bat them away or end up just as bitten as his horse. He tried to bat away at these things buzzing around his dreamscape, but they kept circling anyway.
A flash of sunlight, and little pieces of conversation.
"Sure, but like me... you've known a month..."
"Yeah, but I know you."
He couldn't shake those voices in his head. It rattled him, because he knew them. Knew them. Not heard them once, but knew them like he'd always known them, always would know them. It didn't reconcile itself well with his usually very plain and practical view on life.
Dreams didn't reconcile. Couldn't reconcile. Live by the saddle, by the stone and dust and sand and dirt and snow of a thousand paths, by the steady march of seasons and the way sunlight hits mountains, but not by dreams or by people.
"...but I know you..."
He pulled the hide tight over his head in his sleep, trying to keep the dreams away, trying to make them leave. There was no one left he knew, his family was dead, he was all that was left, and even those people he cared about in passing didn't know him and he didn't know them, not in any real sense.
Trust didn't reconcile. Couldn't reconcile. Live by the bow, by the .45, by the constant running back and forth and to different places, by the never ending mission to get somewhere, even if you don't know where that is, but not by people, or by trusting people.
He had no home.
Why did those voices feel like home?
“Since you know all
and I know nothing..."
He curled his arms around his ears, desperate to find that calm again, where none of this happened and it was just the trail and the mission and nothing more. He didn't want to feel like this, like he was suddenly lost and falling and couldn't pull himself back up.
Like the only way to climb back up was to go back and say, "I know you."
Finally, though, the dreams gave way to bone-heavy exhaustion. Somewhere, subconsciously, far beyond awareness, he hoped he would forget.
Or remember.
"...tell me what I dreamed last night.”
