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open_flameCharacter: Liz Sherman, Professor Trevor “Broom” Bruttenholm (Mentions of Jack Harkness, Clay and Hellboy)
Fandom: Hellboy/Torchwood (Bump in the Night Verse)
Rating: PG (Mentions of drinking, smoking, and mild language)
Word Count: 1,200
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
scifi_muses vol2.week31
Garbage – When I Grow Up
Blood and blisters
On my fingers
Chaos rules when we're apart
Watch my temper
I go mental
I'll try to be gentle
AN: Inspired by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
captain_flyboy’s Fic Here. The morning after Incident No. 1
“Welcome back.” Trevor Broom’s voice hit my already ringing ears and my conscious like a lead weight. I didn’t say goodbye to him. I should have, but I didn’t. I only told Clay I was going. And he would be getting one hell of a bitch out when he gets to work in the morning. How the hell else would Broom have known where to send Jack to “collect” me?
“Not so loud, please.” I turn over on my bed - my fireproof slab, to shut out the light he just flipped on.
“Scotch is less painful when you sip it, rather than guzzle.” The soft chuckle that Broom let out would have made me laugh if I didn’t feel like I wanted to die.
How do Hellboy and Clay, and Jack for that matter, drink like they do after missions and not end up…ugh…? I can take one, maybe two. As much as I had last night was definitely a mistake. Maybe if I’d have stuck to scotch…not had those…whatever they were. The pink things.
I whimper and pull a pillow over my head. “The Captain coming to scold me next?” I ask muffled.
“Oh, no. He’s gone back. Right before you woke.” Broom says very matter of factly. I pull the pillow away and grimace up at the ceiling though closed eyes. I learned quickly that opening them is a bad idea right now.
“No goodbye?” I sound extremely disappointed when I say that. Thank God Broom isn’t the type of man who’ll tease me for it.
“He left his own mission to come for you, he had to get back.”
I swallow hard. “You should have sent Clay then.” It would have been better than Jack. Then I wouldn’t feel so weird. I don’t even know why I feel weird.
“I didn’t send anyone. If you feel this is not your place, then this is not your place.” Broom says as he sits on the edge of my bed. When he does that, I’m forced to open my eyes as I pull myself up to sit against the wall. It’s an all too familiar position for me when I’m feeling sorry for myself.
“Who sent him, the Feds?”
Broom shakes his head as the facts line up in my head. “Oh…” I suddenly have that feeling in my chest again. That feeling I’m not sure how to process. Am I…happy? Embarrassed? Afraid? Ashamed? I don’t know.
“He did promise nothing bad would happen to you, Elizabeth.” Broom looks across to the corkboard on my wall, silently taking in each of the Polaroid pictures there, though they’ve been there for years. The collection had been growing since the Christmas after I exploded the first time. Since Jack gave me my camera; the one that was just like the one my father gave me when I was seven.
I ponder Broom’s words for a while, just staring at the wall. When I was a kid, Jack was my rock. My stability. He taught me how to calm down, how to focus on the good memories instead of the bad ones. He taught me how to fire a gun. How to drive a car….sort of. He was…everything.
I’d hide in my room and cry for hours when he left. And when he came back? It was like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one. I’d tried to be less excited about it since I got older. Since I started to notice that he’s…
No, don’t think about it, Liz. Just don’t
I blush and drop my head. I shouldn’t be thinking like that. Jack’s just….Jack. I grew up around him. He probably still thinks of me as a little kid, not…as more than that. I’m just a co-worker. A part time co-worker.
Besides, he’s got Torchwood. He’s got a life out there. Out in the world where I would give anything to be. Lucky him.
“You now, I’m beginning to think he was lying. I feel…horrible right now.” I don’t really mean what I say. I need someone to blame for this damned hangover other than myself.
I finally bring myself to chuckle then realize it was a very painful decision. I groan and rub my eyes. “I’ll get you some aspirin.” Broom smiles as he watches me stare down at the floor.
“I want a cigarette…please.” I ask softly, expecting him to disapprove. I hate them. They make my chest hurt if I don’t smoke them just right, my mouth dry like a desert, and my appetite go to shit. But something that girl I worked with for a whole 4 days said is still bouncing around my head…
“They keep you calm”
I don’t know why I even asked. Smoking is for after missions. Not around the building. Not…for every day.
“I shall speak with Clay.” Broom says without skipping a beat. “You’ll have to join him on the roof when you smoke. That is not permitted inside the building.”
I nod and look at him guiltily. “I think they’ll help me stay calm.” I defend my request even though he doesn’t expect me to. I’m not sure why. Maybe I have to justify it to myself.
“Perhaps they will.” Broom’s gaze is fixed on the pictures on the wall. I stand, more quickly than I should given that I’m already woozy, and join him. I have a picture of everyone at the BPRD now, and everyone who was here long enough for me to get to know them, too.
Everyone except for…
Jack.
“He won’t ever stay, you know? We’re…not enough for him.” I tell myself that more than I’m telling Broom. Something about saying out loud, maybe I’ll actually wise up and stop hoping things weren’t the way they are.
“You sound so certain.” Broom chuckles again with that knowing smile of his. I notice how very old he looks at that moment. He is getting older. We all are.
Almost all of us.
“I am. Trust me. I’ve been around Jack long enough that I’ve got him pretty much figured out.” I say confidently as I reach out to shift a few of the pictures. They might look like they’re disorganized, but I like them just so. Just…perfect. Still. The way it should be. The way I wish life was. “People are easy to figure out. Too easy.”
“You sound just like my son.” Broom looks at me with those fatherly eyes. I can’t help the little smile on my face. Some would say being compared to Hellboy is an insult.
“That a good thing or a bad thing, Professor?” I ask as Broom slowly makes his way to the door of my room.
He paused and looks back at me with a worried expression. I hate it when he gets that look on his face. I hate making people worry.
“That is for you to decide, my dear.”
Fandom: Hellboy/Torchwood (Bump in the Night Verse)
Rating: PG (Mentions of drinking, smoking, and mild language)
Word Count: 1,200
Prompt:
scifi_muses vol2.week31Garbage – When I Grow Up
Blood and blisters
On my fingers
Chaos rules when we're apart
Watch my temper
I go mental
I'll try to be gentle
AN: Inspired by
captain_flyboy’s Fic Here. The morning after Incident No. 1“Welcome back.” Trevor Broom’s voice hit my already ringing ears and my conscious like a lead weight. I didn’t say goodbye to him. I should have, but I didn’t. I only told Clay I was going. And he would be getting one hell of a bitch out when he gets to work in the morning. How the hell else would Broom have known where to send Jack to “collect” me?
“Not so loud, please.” I turn over on my bed - my fireproof slab, to shut out the light he just flipped on.
“Scotch is less painful when you sip it, rather than guzzle.” The soft chuckle that Broom let out would have made me laugh if I didn’t feel like I wanted to die.
How do Hellboy and Clay, and Jack for that matter, drink like they do after missions and not end up…ugh…? I can take one, maybe two. As much as I had last night was definitely a mistake. Maybe if I’d have stuck to scotch…not had those…whatever they were. The pink things.
I whimper and pull a pillow over my head. “The Captain coming to scold me next?” I ask muffled.
“Oh, no. He’s gone back. Right before you woke.” Broom says very matter of factly. I pull the pillow away and grimace up at the ceiling though closed eyes. I learned quickly that opening them is a bad idea right now.
“No goodbye?” I sound extremely disappointed when I say that. Thank God Broom isn’t the type of man who’ll tease me for it.
“He left his own mission to come for you, he had to get back.”
I swallow hard. “You should have sent Clay then.” It would have been better than Jack. Then I wouldn’t feel so weird. I don’t even know why I feel weird.
“I didn’t send anyone. If you feel this is not your place, then this is not your place.” Broom says as he sits on the edge of my bed. When he does that, I’m forced to open my eyes as I pull myself up to sit against the wall. It’s an all too familiar position for me when I’m feeling sorry for myself.
“Who sent him, the Feds?”
Broom shakes his head as the facts line up in my head. “Oh…” I suddenly have that feeling in my chest again. That feeling I’m not sure how to process. Am I…happy? Embarrassed? Afraid? Ashamed? I don’t know.
“He did promise nothing bad would happen to you, Elizabeth.” Broom looks across to the corkboard on my wall, silently taking in each of the Polaroid pictures there, though they’ve been there for years. The collection had been growing since the Christmas after I exploded the first time. Since Jack gave me my camera; the one that was just like the one my father gave me when I was seven.
I ponder Broom’s words for a while, just staring at the wall. When I was a kid, Jack was my rock. My stability. He taught me how to calm down, how to focus on the good memories instead of the bad ones. He taught me how to fire a gun. How to drive a car….sort of. He was…everything.
I’d hide in my room and cry for hours when he left. And when he came back? It was like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one. I’d tried to be less excited about it since I got older. Since I started to notice that he’s…
No, don’t think about it, Liz. Just don’t
I blush and drop my head. I shouldn’t be thinking like that. Jack’s just….Jack. I grew up around him. He probably still thinks of me as a little kid, not…as more than that. I’m just a co-worker. A part time co-worker.
Besides, he’s got Torchwood. He’s got a life out there. Out in the world where I would give anything to be. Lucky him.
“You now, I’m beginning to think he was lying. I feel…horrible right now.” I don’t really mean what I say. I need someone to blame for this damned hangover other than myself.
I finally bring myself to chuckle then realize it was a very painful decision. I groan and rub my eyes. “I’ll get you some aspirin.” Broom smiles as he watches me stare down at the floor.
“I want a cigarette…please.” I ask softly, expecting him to disapprove. I hate them. They make my chest hurt if I don’t smoke them just right, my mouth dry like a desert, and my appetite go to shit. But something that girl I worked with for a whole 4 days said is still bouncing around my head…
“They keep you calm”
I don’t know why I even asked. Smoking is for after missions. Not around the building. Not…for every day.
“I shall speak with Clay.” Broom says without skipping a beat. “You’ll have to join him on the roof when you smoke. That is not permitted inside the building.”
I nod and look at him guiltily. “I think they’ll help me stay calm.” I defend my request even though he doesn’t expect me to. I’m not sure why. Maybe I have to justify it to myself.
“Perhaps they will.” Broom’s gaze is fixed on the pictures on the wall. I stand, more quickly than I should given that I’m already woozy, and join him. I have a picture of everyone at the BPRD now, and everyone who was here long enough for me to get to know them, too.
Everyone except for…
Jack.
“He won’t ever stay, you know? We’re…not enough for him.” I tell myself that more than I’m telling Broom. Something about saying out loud, maybe I’ll actually wise up and stop hoping things weren’t the way they are.
“You sound so certain.” Broom chuckles again with that knowing smile of his. I notice how very old he looks at that moment. He is getting older. We all are.
Almost all of us.
“I am. Trust me. I’ve been around Jack long enough that I’ve got him pretty much figured out.” I say confidently as I reach out to shift a few of the pictures. They might look like they’re disorganized, but I like them just so. Just…perfect. Still. The way it should be. The way I wish life was. “People are easy to figure out. Too easy.”
“You sound just like my son.” Broom looks at me with those fatherly eyes. I can’t help the little smile on my face. Some would say being compared to Hellboy is an insult.
“That a good thing or a bad thing, Professor?” I ask as Broom slowly makes his way to the door of my room.
He paused and looks back at me with a worried expression. I hate it when he gets that look on his face. I hate making people worry.
“That is for you to decide, my dear.”
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