a fool's musings
Fool, said my muse to me,
look in thy heart and write...
Warning: Adult Content
achromatic
unfinished fic graveyard
recs journal
new stuff
recent stuff
my back pages
January 2004
December 2003
November 2003
October 2003
September 2003
August 2003
July 2003
June 2003
May 2003
April 2003
March 2003
February 2003
January 2003
December 2002
November 2002
October 2002
September 2002
August 2002
July 2002
June 2002
May 2002
April 2002
March 2002
February 2002
January 2002
December 2001
November 2001
the five Ws, or, all about me
profile
e-mail victoria
my livejournal
the
original P&R
comments
current mood:
"pathological and unbalanced"
Items of Interest
-
People
- LiveJournal folks
- Baraita
- bishclone
- claritylit
- Jintian
- Kat Allison
- Kit Mason
- metablog
- mix-tapes
- Neil Gaiman
- Nestra
- Sarah T.
- Seema
- Shrift
- Sundry Mourning
- zendom
-
Music
- Walk On - U2
- Thunder Road - Bruce Springsteen
- If I Can't Change Your Mind - Sugar
- Sick of Myself - Matthew Sweet
- Town Called Malice - The Jam
- One - U2
- The Space Between - DMB
-
Books
- Lord of the Rings
- Catch-22
- The Neely Trilogy
- Absalom! Absalom!
- Possession: A Romance
- Foucault's Pendulum
- Dreamhouse
- LA Confidential
- I Capture the Castle
- Sandman
- Waking the Moon
-
Shows
- Angel
- Buffy the Vampire Slayer (in reruns)
- Alias
- West Wing
- The Simpsons
webrings
<
?
fanfiction !
>
<
?
writers !
>
diaryreviews.diaryland.com
NYC Bloggers
Comments by Haloscan.com
all links, if I haven't screwed up somehow, should open in a new browser window
2001-12-13 - 12:19 p.m.
TEASER: Consumption
Okay, I don't normally do this, per se, but I'm posting this little opening of Consumption [all beta'd and purty] for anyone who's interested in seeing the thing that's sucking all my energy and brain power.
I've not left L/R. I'll probably never really leave it. I'm just a little... distracted by the Slashville boys.
But here is a hint of what I've been working on, for your delectation:
Title: Consumption
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@att.net]
Summary: AU: Two strays come to the mansion, and relationships are shaken to their foundations.
Rating: R - language, sex, violence, drug use, mature themes
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool.
Feedback: I crave it like a crack whore craves crack. I also just like saying 'crack whore.'
Notes: Thanks to Jen, Pete, Dot, Meg and Laura. Thanks to Dom for the heroin info, and to the people at fanfic_med for the medical info.
~*~
< > indicates thoughts
~ ~ indicates telepathic conversation
~*~
Consumption
Jean had been volunteering at the clinic for a month the first time she saw him.
The girl -- dark-haired, dark-eyed -- wouldn't leave his side. His eyes were covered with duct tape; she led him around like a guide dog. Her eyes were about the only part of her body left uncovered.
Jean knew immediately that they were mutants. Half the kids she treated in this place were -- runaways who, in addition to the typical teenage horror stories, had to deal with a whole new layer of terror and hate.
She came out of the small examining room and Consuelo pointed at the couple, huddled in a corner, away from the young mothers with their squalling infants and the older women with their Medicaid cards.
"I'm Jean," she said softly, offering a hand. The girl ignored it completely, but he found it unerringly. His grip was warm, sure, and even through the threadbare cotton of his gloves she could feel something more -- almost a shock of recognition.
"Scott," he answered with a small grin.
"Shall we?" she asked, knowing that to touch him or try to guide him without permission would be rude.
The girl looked torn until he took Jean's arm, saying, "It's okay. She's okay."
The girl still wore a doubtful expression, but she let Jean lead her charge away.
"Put this on," Jean told him, handing him the paper robe sitting on the exam table. "I'll be right in."
She monitored him unobtrusively, unsure how long it would take him to undress, especially in an unfamiliar place. There was something about his mind that called to hers, making her curse the ethics Charles had drilled into her over the years. She desperately wanted to explore him, to delve into the seemingly familiar pattern of his thoughts.
After waiting a few minutes longer than she would have for a sighted patient, she knocked and entered. And had to force herself not to gasp.
He was beautiful.
Even malnourished and dirty, there was a grace and tensile strength about him that made her breath catch in her throat.
His arms were covered with scars, track marks, but she could tell it had been a long time since he'd shot up.
"So, what's the problem?" she asked cheerfully, as always finding the poise to deal with any situation by donning her "doctor" mask. She sometimes felt as if she spent her whole life switching masks, never letting anyone see the real Jean.
He coughed, cleared his throat, and she immediately knew. Bronchitis. Deepening toward pneumonia if the wheezing was anything to go by. Possibly even TB.
He was silent through the examination, allowing her to take cultures and blood, and not even flinching when told to pee in the cup. He did it without her help, stepping behind the screen. When she looked later, she noticed he hadn't even left a drop on the floor.
He nodded when she told him to call for his HIV test results and didn't argue when she told him she needed to perform a tine test and that he would have to come back in a few days for her to check the outcome.
"Tuberculosis, huh?" was all he said.
"It's a possibility. I don't want to alarm you, but you should let me test your friend as well."
"Rogue isn't sick."
"If I even have TB."
"Yes. If you even have it."
"Can you give me something for the cough? It keeps us up all night."
She nodded. "Consuelo will give you a script--"
He laughed harshly. "We can't fill a prescription, doctor."
She nodded, then remembered he couldn't see her. "The pharmacy down the street will fill it, no charge. The clinic pays." It was safer than keeping supplies of drugs on hand. They'd been broken into too many times by junkies looking for their next fix. And Warren was a powerful man; his name opened doors the world over, and what his name couldn't accomplish, his checkbook did.
He nodded. "Interesting."
"So, you can get dressed, and then send your friend in."
"Rogue's okay. She doesn't need to be examined." She bit her lip and was about to respond when he said, "She doesn't like doctors and she doesn't like to be touched." He spoke in a tone that brooked no argument; a tone that, had he been anyone else, she'd never have allowed him to get away with.
Instead, knowing how skittish street kids were, she merely said, "I understand, but she still needs to be tested." She knew, however, that it was highly unlikely that either of them would still be in the waiting room when she finished with her next patient.
A girl came in then with a gunshot wound, and everything else was forgotten, even the strange young man with whom she'd felt such a connection.
***
Vic again: Well, you can see, there's quite a bit of difference from the usual L/R/S/J fic, eh? So that's the first three pages out of oh, 75 right now. *g* And I'm a little stuck on the action scenes, so it'll be a while longer.
but I'm not dead or gone or giving up the ship [pun intended].
Let me know what you think: musesfool@diaryland.com or leave comments [see that comments thingy at the left? click on it and leave me a note *g*].
~victoria
[current mood: ]
[current music: ]
[random quote: ]
~*~
Disclaimer: Reading this diary is not required by law. If you do not like or agree with the contents herein, or find them to be offensive on more than one occasion, please go elsewhere and don't come back. Management is not responsible for any adverse reactions to content within.
The painting is "Boreas" by John William Waterhouse. Again, not a muse, but I like her. She suits the color scheme.
The quote is from Sir Philip Sidney.
This site is best viewed with IE4+ | 1024x768 | true color | verdana | tables