katleept

Title: To Catch An Angel
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Angel
Character/Pairing: Angel/Cordelia
Rating: G/K
Challenge: This is for a

tv_universe land comm challenge. If you join, be sure to tell them Kat Lee of Team Bunny Ears sent you!
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 367
Summary: He watches her gliding through the afterlife.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, not the author, and are used without permission.
Word Used:

He sees her gliding through the serein as night settles in all around them. He glances from the beautiful vision that she's always been down to his bag of blood and then back up again. He crumples the bag in his fist, but she's still there, still gliding toward him.

She's not alone. There are other beings on the wind as the storm moves closer inland. He's not sure if they're Sprites or Faeries. Some might even think they are Angels, but he doesn't believe in such. At least, he hasn't until now.

"Cordelia?" he whispers her name, but she makes no sign of having heard him. Her eyes are deep and hazel, not as bright as they were in life, but more haunting. She seems almost to be seeking for something. "Cordelia?" he manages again, this time a little louder.

She cocks her head, and if he had a beating heart, it would leap in hope. Her lips open to say his name, but he can not hear her voice. Her mouth sends a breeze gusting his way. "Cordelia?" he tries again, leaping out of his window and into the night, leaping toward her, arms outstretched, but she only glides right through him.

What heart he does have rends. He turns quickly after her. "Cordelia?" he cries again, but she is still ghosting along with the other spirits passing through the night. He runs after her and moves to grasp her arm, but his fingers pass right through her. Neither the living nor the unliving can reach the dead, he's reminded, but that fact doesn't stop him from trying every time he sees her.

He'll wait for her again tomorrow night, and again he'll try to make her hear him. He knows his task is futile. She's as likely to hear him as Angels are to really exist. But then another thought comes to him: Angels do exist, and he's not thinking of himself. Angels exist, he knows, because for a time, she was his Angel. He'll be back again tomorrow night, and so will she. Perhaps then, in the light of the full moon, she'll finally see him again. He can only hope and wait.

The End

Title: A Winchester's Inheritance
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Supernatural
Character/Pairing: Mild Sam/Dean
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge: This is for a

tv_universe land comm challenge. If you join, be sure to tell them Kat Lee of Team Bunny Ears sent you!
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 449
Summary: Dean's itching to go again.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
Word Used:

He watches the sun come up by himself, chugging down his last six pack. He knows it's not safe to drive while intoxicated, but he's only got a slight buzz. Besides, he couldn't give a damn to the law. He and his brother break many laws every single day, all to save lives. What's a little buzzed driving every now and again? It's not like he'd ever let himself slip so far as to risk hurting his baby.

He smiles at the thought of driving her again on the open road and finally gets to his booted feet. He slips back into the cabin. Their bags are already packed, and he no longer hesitates in calling to his brother, "Come on, Sammy. Time to rise and shine."

"Dean?" Sam grumbles sleepily, clutching his pillow tighter. "Since when do you wake up at dawn?"

"Since it's time to get our asses back on the road. Come on. We've got a case." He knows his brother doesn't want to leave. He'd much rather stay here for the rest of their lives and grow old together. It's peaceful here in the mountains, and it would appear that they've killed the last of the monsters -- for now -- as they haven't been bothered during this break away from the turmoil of their everyday lives and the war that never ends.

Sammy would rather not fight. He'd rather have peace and rest and be able to just hang with him, safe and free. Dean, however, is itching not just for a good brawl but to be back on the road again. He can never stay in one place for too long without the old resfeber, as Bobby called it, kicking in. If he doesn't get out of here today, he'll be at Sam's throat by the time another night falls.

He knows who he has to thank for that. Bobby told him his father was the same way, and it's one of the many traits the elder Winchester passed down to him, one of many traits, many responsibilities, and many problems. He rolls his eyes, thinking, Thanks, Dad,, because he knows he'll never be able to settle down.

Yet, once the road is in front of him again, he's gripping his Impala's steering wheel firmly in his strong hands, and Sam's hand rests idly on his knee, Dean grins, and when he thinks the words again, there is no malice or disappointment in his thought. It's one of those very brief moments where he's truly happy. After all, he's got Sammy, his baby, good music thumping, plenty of booze and food, an open road, nowhere to go, and all day to get there. Thanks, Dad.

The End

Title: Through the Storm
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Golden Girls
Character/Pairing: Blanche/Dorothy, Sophia
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge: This is for a

tv_universe land comm challenge. If you join, be sure to tell them Kat Lee of Team Bunny Ears sent you!
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 698
Summary: Blanche and Sophia arrive home late one evening.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
Word Used:

Blanche Deveraux had been taking Dorothy's breath away for years when she finally showed back up on their doorstep late that evening. "Ma!" Dorothy cried, pulling her mother indoors and hugging her tightly to her.

"Easy, Pussycat. It's just a little wind and rain. It's not like it's Opal all over again, or the blizzard of 1942. Now those were some real storms."

"Tell me about it later, Ma," Dorothy instructed, not in the mood to hear any stories. She turned her further into the living room as she leaned out, grabbed the door that the wind was trying to suck away, nodded her gratitude to the police car that was carefully driving down the highway after delivering their missing family, and pulled the door shut. It clapped shut with a Bang! that reminded Dorothy just how strong the winds were. The storm wasn't Hurricane Opal, true enough, but it was a Category 4. She'd been terrified when Blanche and especially her mother had not arrived home when they should have and was ever so grateful to have her prayers finally answered and both back home safe.

"What can Ah say?" Blanche was drawling as Dorothy turned back around with the intention of hugging her mother again. The Southern belle patted her short 'do with a proud smile. "It helps ta have some friends in th' police force."

"Some friends," Rose started to say, but whatever she said next was lost on Dorothy. Everything around her seemed to stop moving as she took note of Blanche. The woman had always been beautiful. She possessed a sense of soigne unlike any Dorothy had ever seen on another woman. She could count the number of times she'd seen Blanche completely lost her elegance and beauty on one hand, and this certainly wasn't one of those times. Indeed, she looked almost as though she'd just stepped from a light, Spring shower after going to the beauty parlor rather than almost being sucked up by a hurricane.

"Pussycat!" Dorothy snapped and blinked rapidly as her mother's stern voice returned her mind to the matter at hand. "We were almost killed by that hurricane, and you can't even offer me something to eat?!"

"Yes, Ma. Of course, Ma," Dorothy muttered instead of her usual retort for the old woman to go cook something for herself. She tore her eyes away from Blanche and followed Sophia into the kitchen.

Sophia grabbed a big, wooden spoon and turned to face Dorothy. She swatted the ladle in her old, wrinkled hands. "Don't think you're too big for me to bend over my knee, Dorothy," she hissed. "You don't need that tramp out there."

"Ma! What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about! You may not have a lot of men, Dorothy, but you certainly don't need a port that's seen every sailor and land officer in this city!"

"Ma!"

"I mean it, Dorothy."

"I know it's the medicine making you talk that way, Ma. You know Blanche and I are only friends."

"You better keep it that way, too, Pussycat. We're not losing our home because you can't get a man."

Dorothy was stunned into a rare moment of silence, but it was much later that night when she finally had to accept that Sophia was onto something. Blanche wasn't just beautiful. She demanded her attention like no one else ever had, and indeed Dorothy found herself quite powerless to turn her away when she appeared, flouncing, in her doorway that night. She tried to find the strength within her to shoo her out of her bedroom until Blanche looked pleadingly at her with her big, beautiful eyes and whispered softly as the winds continued to howl outside, "Hold me, Dorothy."

Then and there, Dorothy knew she had no choice but to love that beautiful, Southern belle who had been making demands of her already for years. Her heart melted, and she opened her bed and her arms. Sophia had never been more right, or more wrong, about something. Dorothy did love Blanche, but they would never lose their home because of her feelings for Blanche had never known any one as gentle and tender as Dorothy proved herself that night.

The End

Title: Fears
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Gotham
Character/Pairing: Harvey/Fish
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge: This is for a

tv_universe land comm challenge. If you join, be sure to tell them Kat Lee of Team Bunny Ears sent you!
Warning(s): SPOILERS!
Word Count: 561
Summary: Harvey's afraid.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
Word Used:

It isn't until he looks into her eyes on that dock that Harvey realizes just how much he has to lose, and that that speech he gave in the meeting for those who let their fears affect their everyday lives wasn't all lies. He had thought he'd done well coming up with that little speech. He had known he'd been moving closer in on the redhead with every word he spoke. But he hadn't realized until now that he really was afraid.

He was afraid of much more than anybody back in that meeting had admitted. He was afraid of his life. He was afraid of his role in this city. He was afraid it was going to eat him alive one of these nights and leave nothing but his scarred remains behind, no one to care, no one to weep, no one to even bury his body except for the force who felt responsibility for their downed officer. No one would miss him. Gordon wouldn't. Nor would this beautiful woman into whose eyes he is gazing now.

Fish is a beautiful woman, but she's also dangerous and deadly. She's worse than any viper. Harvey knows she'd turn on him in a minute if she had something to gain from it. He has no doubts about their relationship. It's not built on trust or love or even desire. She appealed to him because of how dangerous, fierce, and strong she is, all things he would like to be and once was before the life of a Gotham City Police Officer beat him down; he appeals to her because he's a badge she feels she can control and once did. If it wasn't for Gordon, he knows, she still would.

He shouldn't be here, not now, not when the whole of Gotham City's underbelly is searching for Fish Mooney. He's an idiot to be standing here beside her out in the open, but he has to see her one last time. He has to know she's okay. He has to know she's going to be okay.

He can see she's going to be fine now, but still, he can't seem to make himself leave her side. He makes certain she boards the ship okay. He makes certain she escapes from Gotham. He stands in that spot for over an hour that night, making certain she's going to be fine, and only turns his back on where he last saw her when he can no longer see the ship as even a tiny dot on the horizon.

He slides into the comfort of his car and lights up a cigarette. He drags in the smoke, focusing on trying to ignore his fears, focusing on making certain his body doesn't shake like he feels his heart doing. Fish is a dangerous woman, but he's not afraid of her. He's afraid of what she might mean to him, if their circumstances were different. He's afraid of the fear he now recognizes in himself. He's afraid of dying alone, but he's more afraid of living with somebody for whom he can truly care, whom he might even dare again to love. He clenches the cigarette and drives off into the night, doing his best to leave his fears behind on that pier but knowing they're coming with him, dogging his heels, every step of the way.

The End

Title: One Moment Too Late
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Smallville
Character/Pairing: Clex (Clark/Lex)
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge: This is for a

tv_universe land comm challenge. If you join, be sure to tell them Kat Lee of Team Bunny Ears sent you!
Warning(s): Dark Future Ficlet
Word Count: 644
Summary: If only he hadn't waited for the right moment . . .
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to DC Comics, not the author, and are used without permission.
Word Used:

He stares at the headstone through a sea of tears. He can't believe this day has come. He thought it would never happen. He thought no one could fell the seemingly immortal Superman. He thought his only weakness was kryptonite, and so as a lad, had struggled to secure every trace amount of the alien rock he could find. He'd thought he could one day find the answers he sought in studying the rock, but they were only rocks in the end. They hadn't been able to answer his questions, or to warn him that this day would come.

In the cold, he kneels before the grave. He knows his body is not there. The ceremony used a closed casket, and it's a fact made well known by the news that his body was destroyed in his final battle. Lex's fingers clench around the small, hard object in his pocket, the object he had been trying to deploy for years now and yet would never see its intended destination. If the Justice League hadn't already "accidentally" killed that particular villain, he wouldn't rest until the monster breathed his last inside his own hands.

He looks down at those hands, shaking his head. They've worked for years, but for what? Clark never understood he was trying to help make the world a better place. He never understood that his best intentions were all for his protection and for the protection of those he loved. He never understood how he really felt, and now he never will.

Lex brings the small box out of his pocket and pops it open one final time. He looks at the gold band through his tears. It no longer seems to shine. The day is dark, and so is the ring. It's been raining for hours, but Lex doesn't care that he's soaked through to his bones. Perhaps he'll catch pneumonia and die. At any rate, it seems that even the Angels are crying for their downed hero.

He looks up again and traces the letters of Superman's name in the headstone. He aches to build one not for Superman but for Clark, for the real hero behind the face the whole world loved, but Clark never chose to reveal his secret to more than just a very few of their childhood friends. Lex will keep that secret as he does the secret of his love, although he now wishes he could pour out the latter.

He shakes his head once more, thinking to himself of what a miserable failure he has become. It doesn't matter that he's the wealthiest man in the world or that he has the power to save or destroy a million lives with the single touch of a button back in his office. Nothing matters now except for the fool he's been. He spent their lives waiting until Clark would accept him, waiting until Clark could look pass his wicked deeds to see how much he truly loves him, waiting for that kairos in time when he could ask Clark to marry him and would actually accept his love.

Now Lex's most treasured dreams will never happen. He'll never get to slide his ring onto Clark's finger. He'll never get to hold Superman's hand. He'll never get to tell the man he loves him just how much he always has loved him, since they were kids. He'll never even get to see him again.

The rain increases as does Lex's tears. He closes the little, velvet box and sits it on Clark's monumental grave next to his headstone. The rain will destroy the velvet and the silk lining. It might even wash the ring away into the dirt. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters any longer.

Lex rises and walks away, never hearing the small, hushed voice crying out, "Oh, Lex!" If only he'd known.

The End