Random Fic(let)!
Aug. 9th, 2020 11:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
archetJust a tiny ficlet from a fandom I'd nearly forgotten about. Posting just because I feel like it. I told myself if I got back into journal-ing, etc, I'd actually post things and not just...not post, ha! There's so many fics I regret not posting or finishing from my LJ days because I was so timid and worried that things weren't good enough, etc, etc, etc. It occurs to me as well there's an element of freedom of posting to a void *snerk* as that's sometimes, and I LOVE A03, but that's what posting to A03 feels like at times, and the majority of DW journals I've come across are quiet or having moved on to other fandoms or just not around anymore, but alas, that's the way of things. In other news: I learned the cut tag procedure, or, I think I did...we'll see!
Title: Artifacts
Fandom: Without A Trace
Pairing: Martin Fitzgerald/Danny Taylor
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters, only this fic(let).
*Crossposted at A03
When Danny says New York is his city, Martin believes him. But when Martin looks closely he finds little reminders of another life scattered all about Danny’s apartment. There are the colorful flamingo print postcards he happens across, tucked into the books on the shelf in the living room, neon-hued bookmarks with disclaimers like ‘wish you were here’ and ‘a Christmas hello from Florida’. There is the small, bell-shaped bottle of sugar-white sand, stoppered with a cork and pushed to the back of the kitchen catch-all drawer. There’s the pristine Panama hat, the lone occupant on the top shelf of the hall closet, stored in a clear plastic bin and swathed in tissue paper like some sort of museum piece. Unusual things to Martin’s eyes, touristy, nothing at all like Danny as Martin knows him, but Martin enjoys discovering each artifact, one by one. He doesn’t ask Danny about them though, doesn’t comment on these bright little curiosities.
Danny shares personal fragments of his life with Martin at the oddest of times . . . in an elevator, while traversing a parking garage, on the noon ferry chugging across the East River and it’s almost if Danny has to be in motion in the telling or the memories will cling to him too tightly. Sometimes the things he offers Martin are unhappy, spoken with that matter of fact, Taylor-made steadiness, yet the darkness in already dark eyes bleeds through plainly enough. But there are happy things too, infrequent, but they’re there, doled out with the same evenness, sometimes accompanied with a crooked smile and narrowed eyes, as if Danny’s looking back through the lens of long years and struggling to keep the memory in focus. Martin finds it in himself to be glad Danny has something bright to recall about his past, even if it is sometimes framed in a hesitant tone, as if Danny isn’t sure ‘that day at the beach’ story he’s describing is happy, or simply bittersweet.
There are things in Danny’s apartment Martin knows nothing about, but he makes a vow with himself to be ready and willing to listen to whatever Danny wants him to know. Martin waits for the next discovery, hopes to gather close one more piece of the man he loves. Danny already holds all of Martin, the least Martin can do is return the favor.
Title: Artifacts
Fandom: Without A Trace
Pairing: Martin Fitzgerald/Danny Taylor
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters, only this fic(let).
*Crossposted at A03
When Danny says New York is his city, Martin believes him. But when Martin looks closely he finds little reminders of another life scattered all about Danny’s apartment. There are the colorful flamingo print postcards he happens across, tucked into the books on the shelf in the living room, neon-hued bookmarks with disclaimers like ‘wish you were here’ and ‘a Christmas hello from Florida’. There is the small, bell-shaped bottle of sugar-white sand, stoppered with a cork and pushed to the back of the kitchen catch-all drawer. There’s the pristine Panama hat, the lone occupant on the top shelf of the hall closet, stored in a clear plastic bin and swathed in tissue paper like some sort of museum piece. Unusual things to Martin’s eyes, touristy, nothing at all like Danny as Martin knows him, but Martin enjoys discovering each artifact, one by one. He doesn’t ask Danny about them though, doesn’t comment on these bright little curiosities.
Danny shares personal fragments of his life with Martin at the oddest of times . . . in an elevator, while traversing a parking garage, on the noon ferry chugging across the East River and it’s almost if Danny has to be in motion in the telling or the memories will cling to him too tightly. Sometimes the things he offers Martin are unhappy, spoken with that matter of fact, Taylor-made steadiness, yet the darkness in already dark eyes bleeds through plainly enough. But there are happy things too, infrequent, but they’re there, doled out with the same evenness, sometimes accompanied with a crooked smile and narrowed eyes, as if Danny’s looking back through the lens of long years and struggling to keep the memory in focus. Martin finds it in himself to be glad Danny has something bright to recall about his past, even if it is sometimes framed in a hesitant tone, as if Danny isn’t sure ‘that day at the beach’ story he’s describing is happy, or simply bittersweet.
There are things in Danny’s apartment Martin knows nothing about, but he makes a vow with himself to be ready and willing to listen to whatever Danny wants him to know. Martin waits for the next discovery, hopes to gather close one more piece of the man he loves. Danny already holds all of Martin, the least Martin can do is return the favor.
