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Blame 
Anais for this one. We were talking months ago, and she came out with the first sentence and, well, a fic challenge of sorts was born. This was supposed to be the start of a larger piece, but things often have a fashion of ending other than they're supposed to. After not touching it for months I finally finished it in the early hours of the New Year, and decided I'd said all I wanted to say. No doubt I'll tweak it, but I wanted to start the New Year off in the right way :)
It's Jurassic Park III, Alan/Billy of course and a bit of an odd thing.
Disclaimer: The characters of Dr. Alan Grant, Billy Brennan, et al. are the property of Universal Pictures, Amblin Entertainment and (in Alan's case) Michael Crichton. No copyright infringement is intended.
~*~
Freefall
You don't leap out of planes and off cliffs unless you're slightly insane and addicted to the rush. When he's pressed, Billy cheerfully admits to being both. It's much easier than trying to describe the sensation to someone who's never experienced it and never will.
The truth of the matter is simply that there are no words for it. The human tongue, cobbled together over millenia from grunts and groans and only ever intended to assist the pack in the hunt, simply doesn't have the consonants, the syllables, the sounds to convey the sheer joy of it. He tried before, years ago, when he was still in the first throes of infatuation and, just like any guy who's convinced that this is the one, the one thing that just is, he talked about it, his eyes shining and his voice stuttering out, words tumbling and stumbling out because they just weren't fast enough, just weren't perfect enough to capture a moment of pure bliss.
It's better than anything. It's everything. It's a moment of perfect happiness and ball numbing, spine shaking, skin crawling terror. It's the wind whipping through your hair, tearing at your clothes with icy fingers and cradling you in its grasp all at once. It's still silence, the earth below you spread out like a child's play mat, all neat fields and squares of brown, green and gold, and the ear-shattering sound of tonnes of air screaming past your ears, weighing down your weightless form. It's the blood pounding through your veins, the tingling of your skin, so intense it's close to pain, everything standing to attention from the hairs in your nostrils to the dick in your pants. Every single part of you knowing you're alive, so much more alive than you are on the ground.
It's a sound halfway between a whoop and a scream, torn from your throat as you fall and fly all at once.
It's wondering how you'll land.
Billy loves it, but love's too faint a word to sum up everything he feels; too washed out, faded against the reality that is simply this.
Most of all, it's familiar.
Maybe that's why he turns to it when everything else fails. Because it was his first love, before Alan ever came along, and it will, now, be his last.
Because for all of the joy and all of the terror that sensation of falling and flying holds for him, it can't compare with the incandescent and giddy delight he felt when Alan first looked at him with more than the tolerant affection of mentor for student. Falling for Alan was a wilder ride than falling to earth, that familiar mix of terror and joy tinged now with a newness, a strangeness that had him wanting to whoop out loud again for the sheer unadulterated pleasure of it.
He forgot the cardinal rule though. True, the higher the leap, the longer the fall but sooner or later you always hit earth.
He's often reached terminal velocity in those moments before he opens his 'chute, usually leaving it as long as possible before doing so just to scare the shit out of himself. But the truth of the matter is that he's never been this terrified before. His 'chute's never failed him and he's never really believed it would, confident in his own immortality, his ability to triumph no matter what the odds or circumstances. He's stunned now to find himself plummeting with no hope of salvation.
There's no parachute to ease his fall from grace. Gravity cannot compare with the ball of lead that settles heavily in his stomach when Alan turns away. That look, the one that made him want to howl at the moon, sing to the stars, is forever gone, leaving nothing but disgust and anger in its wake and there's no one to blame for the loss but himself and his stupid, stupid reckless streak.
He's freefalling and all he hears is the echo of regret, his heart breaking so thoroughly that the sound of it drowns out the wind.
Billy's never been able to find the words to give voice to his love of flying but there's no joy in falling into the abyss this time.
Anais for this one. We were talking months ago, and she came out with the first sentence and, well, a fic challenge of sorts was born. This was supposed to be the start of a larger piece, but things often have a fashion of ending other than they're supposed to. After not touching it for months I finally finished it in the early hours of the New Year, and decided I'd said all I wanted to say. No doubt I'll tweak it, but I wanted to start the New Year off in the right way :)It's Jurassic Park III, Alan/Billy of course and a bit of an odd thing.
Disclaimer: The characters of Dr. Alan Grant, Billy Brennan, et al. are the property of Universal Pictures, Amblin Entertainment and (in Alan's case) Michael Crichton. No copyright infringement is intended.
~*~
Freefall
You don't leap out of planes and off cliffs unless you're slightly insane and addicted to the rush. When he's pressed, Billy cheerfully admits to being both. It's much easier than trying to describe the sensation to someone who's never experienced it and never will.
The truth of the matter is simply that there are no words for it. The human tongue, cobbled together over millenia from grunts and groans and only ever intended to assist the pack in the hunt, simply doesn't have the consonants, the syllables, the sounds to convey the sheer joy of it. He tried before, years ago, when he was still in the first throes of infatuation and, just like any guy who's convinced that this is the one, the one thing that just is, he talked about it, his eyes shining and his voice stuttering out, words tumbling and stumbling out because they just weren't fast enough, just weren't perfect enough to capture a moment of pure bliss.
It's better than anything. It's everything. It's a moment of perfect happiness and ball numbing, spine shaking, skin crawling terror. It's the wind whipping through your hair, tearing at your clothes with icy fingers and cradling you in its grasp all at once. It's still silence, the earth below you spread out like a child's play mat, all neat fields and squares of brown, green and gold, and the ear-shattering sound of tonnes of air screaming past your ears, weighing down your weightless form. It's the blood pounding through your veins, the tingling of your skin, so intense it's close to pain, everything standing to attention from the hairs in your nostrils to the dick in your pants. Every single part of you knowing you're alive, so much more alive than you are on the ground.
It's a sound halfway between a whoop and a scream, torn from your throat as you fall and fly all at once.
It's wondering how you'll land.
Billy loves it, but love's too faint a word to sum up everything he feels; too washed out, faded against the reality that is simply this.
Most of all, it's familiar.
Maybe that's why he turns to it when everything else fails. Because it was his first love, before Alan ever came along, and it will, now, be his last.
Because for all of the joy and all of the terror that sensation of falling and flying holds for him, it can't compare with the incandescent and giddy delight he felt when Alan first looked at him with more than the tolerant affection of mentor for student. Falling for Alan was a wilder ride than falling to earth, that familiar mix of terror and joy tinged now with a newness, a strangeness that had him wanting to whoop out loud again for the sheer unadulterated pleasure of it.
He forgot the cardinal rule though. True, the higher the leap, the longer the fall but sooner or later you always hit earth.
He's often reached terminal velocity in those moments before he opens his 'chute, usually leaving it as long as possible before doing so just to scare the shit out of himself. But the truth of the matter is that he's never been this terrified before. His 'chute's never failed him and he's never really believed it would, confident in his own immortality, his ability to triumph no matter what the odds or circumstances. He's stunned now to find himself plummeting with no hope of salvation.
There's no parachute to ease his fall from grace. Gravity cannot compare with the ball of lead that settles heavily in his stomach when Alan turns away. That look, the one that made him want to howl at the moon, sing to the stars, is forever gone, leaving nothing but disgust and anger in its wake and there's no one to blame for the loss but himself and his stupid, stupid reckless streak.
He's freefalling and all he hears is the echo of regret, his heart breaking so thoroughly that the sound of it drowns out the wind.
Billy's never been able to find the words to give voice to his love of flying but there's no joy in falling into the abyss this time.
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Sorry :(
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:o( Quality not quantity!!!
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Should I offer to lick him and make it better? ;-)
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I can't say I disagree with that. OK, Alan, stop being an asshat and go lick Billy for us.
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More Alan/Billy fic! Hehe!
As usual, it was beautifully written. I always *love* it when you post something new.
Chapter one of my A/B fic, Silhouettes should *finally* be ready to post soon. It's on it's second round of betaing right now. *crosses fingers* End of January-ish it should be done. Preferably before. Had a difficult last couple of months, but *touches wood* I think my writing's back up and running. *g*
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PS> I went to http://www.unconsciousmind.co.uk/viewstory.php?sid=163
and snagged the blue roses icon.
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