fanfic (Marvel): "Our Wounds Still Tender"
Nov. 5th, 2008 08:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eliyesTitle: Our Wounds Still Tender
Fandom: Marvel
Characters: Cannonball, Rictor, others mentioned
Rating: PG for miiiild swearing. Like, one word. Rhymes with "split".
A/N: Takes place after Rictor and the New Mutants escape the Purifiers. I think the writers missed an opportunity, and I'm rectifying that here.
"Should you be moving?" Ric asked. Sam glanced up even as he lowered himself into the chair.
"Maybe not, but we needed to clear some space in the infirmary." Sam watched Ric's eyes flick away, towards the place where even now Dr. McCoy was patching up the New Mutants. "Thanks for that," Sam said. When Ric looked his way, he waved a hand. "For helping them out."
"Right place, right time," Ric replied with a hint of a smile. "They remind me of us. You mind them using the name?"
"Nah. They deserve it for as long as they want to keep it."
"That Anole kid -- he kinda reminds me of you."
"Really? He reminds me of Doug."
"I guess you had more in common than blond hair," Ric said with a shrug, and Sam belatedly remembered that Doug had died just before they met.
"How are y'doin', Ric?" he asked softly. "Any better?"
Ric leaned himself against the wall, bumping his shoulders a couple times and unconsciously hugging himself. Sam knew the pose.
"I heard -- I'm sorry I didn't --" Sam trailed off when Ric shook his head.
"Don't. Just -- don't, okay?" He took a deep breath, meeting Sam's eyes on the exhale. "You were -- there was that thing with Lila, Guido mentioned, and then you... Shit. Sam. I'm sorry, about your brother."
Sam nodded, unable to speak for a moment. When he could, his voice was still husky.
"Thanks."
"I should --" Ric pushed off from the wall, half-turned away. "I should get back. Do you want me to get you anything before I go?"
"I'm good."
"Okay, well... See ya." He started to walk away.
"Yeah. Hey, Ric?" Sam called after him.
"Yeah?" Ric paused, turning back.
"Don't be a stranger."
"Right. Thanks."
"See ya."
"Yeah. Bye, Sam."
Sam dropped his head back against the chair. He listened to the fading footsteps, the sound of a distant door half-buried under the wash of noise from the infirmary.
After a few minutes, felt like, he said, "I can hear you breathing, y'know." He turned his gaze to a spot by the ceiling, near the door. As he'd expected, Anole became visible there and dropped to the ground.
"Sorry."
"S'alright."
"I didn't plan on eavesdropping. I wanted to thank him, but it seemed rude to interrupt." He looked sheepish. "And I wanted to apologise for, um..."
Sam smiled.
"If this has to do with the way he seemed a little tender on his left side...?" Watching Anole's expression confirmed the guess. "Don't worry about it. I've done him worse in training, I bet. But, tell you what, why don't you sit down and tell me what all happened?"
Fandom: Marvel
Characters: Cannonball, Rictor, others mentioned
Rating: PG for miiiild swearing. Like, one word. Rhymes with "split".
A/N: Takes place after Rictor and the New Mutants escape the Purifiers. I think the writers missed an opportunity, and I'm rectifying that here.
"Should you be moving?" Ric asked. Sam glanced up even as he lowered himself into the chair.
"Maybe not, but we needed to clear some space in the infirmary." Sam watched Ric's eyes flick away, towards the place where even now Dr. McCoy was patching up the New Mutants. "Thanks for that," Sam said. When Ric looked his way, he waved a hand. "For helping them out."
"Right place, right time," Ric replied with a hint of a smile. "They remind me of us. You mind them using the name?"
"Nah. They deserve it for as long as they want to keep it."
"That Anole kid -- he kinda reminds me of you."
"Really? He reminds me of Doug."
"I guess you had more in common than blond hair," Ric said with a shrug, and Sam belatedly remembered that Doug had died just before they met.
"How are y'doin', Ric?" he asked softly. "Any better?"
Ric leaned himself against the wall, bumping his shoulders a couple times and unconsciously hugging himself. Sam knew the pose.
"I heard -- I'm sorry I didn't --" Sam trailed off when Ric shook his head.
"Don't. Just -- don't, okay?" He took a deep breath, meeting Sam's eyes on the exhale. "You were -- there was that thing with Lila, Guido mentioned, and then you... Shit. Sam. I'm sorry, about your brother."
Sam nodded, unable to speak for a moment. When he could, his voice was still husky.
"Thanks."
"I should --" Ric pushed off from the wall, half-turned away. "I should get back. Do you want me to get you anything before I go?"
"I'm good."
"Okay, well... See ya." He started to walk away.
"Yeah. Hey, Ric?" Sam called after him.
"Yeah?" Ric paused, turning back.
"Don't be a stranger."
"Right. Thanks."
"See ya."
"Yeah. Bye, Sam."
Sam dropped his head back against the chair. He listened to the fading footsteps, the sound of a distant door half-buried under the wash of noise from the infirmary.
After a few minutes, felt like, he said, "I can hear you breathing, y'know." He turned his gaze to a spot by the ceiling, near the door. As he'd expected, Anole became visible there and dropped to the ground.
"Sorry."
"S'alright."
"I didn't plan on eavesdropping. I wanted to thank him, but it seemed rude to interrupt." He looked sheepish. "And I wanted to apologise for, um..."
Sam smiled.
"If this has to do with the way he seemed a little tender on his left side...?" Watching Anole's expression confirmed the guess. "Don't worry about it. I've done him worse in training, I bet. But, tell you what, why don't you sit down and tell me what all happened?"