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heartbrkhotel 10: good-bye/heartbreak
Jan. 11th, 2009 04:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
call_me_snakeTitle: The Long Goodbye
Author/Artist: Titania
Pairing: Snake Plissken
Fandom: John Carpenter's Escape from NY/LA
Theme: 10. good-bye/heartbreak
Disclaimer: Snake belongs to John Carpenter, Debra Hill, Paramount Pictures, Kurt Russell and Hurricane Comics. Just showing my love for their genius.
Rating: PG
Words: 733
Author's Note Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fatherartist
Snake stood for a long time staring at the flag covered coffin. Trying to imagine she was in there, which he knew she wasn't, was only slightly less impossible than telling himself she was gone. He put his hand on the canvas flag trying to remember or maybe forget the feeling of her hair and the way she always smelled just a little minty. She had an obsession with eating mints. Snake smiled but just as quickly it faded. Had a body been in there he would have had the coffin open and put the engagement ring on her finger. Now he was stuck with it. He was stuck without her.
The ring caused him grief. It was like starting toward a goal only to have the key piece disappear. He could never go back and never finish. This was a trap. Plissken hated being in any position where there were no choices. He wanted his mother. He felt childish for that thought but he really just wanted to be hugged by her. She couldn't make this better but at least she could be there. Here he was alone. Taylor was still confined to the hospital. That left him staring at the empty coffin meant for the woman he should be marrying now not pretending to put her into the ground.
Snake stepped back and sat on the stairs with his back to the coffin. The chapel was empty. War was in full swing and no one had much time for this. Plissken had all the time in the world. He had his orders; discharged for medical complications. It was honorable and understandable but right now the war would be a welcome distraction. Even knowing that they'd been sent to die on purpose the war was better than sitting here.
He dug in the uniform pocket and pulled out the gold band with the small diamond. He hadn't had much saved up to buy it but the ring was respectable enough. Plissken held it in his palm watching the candle light on the stone. He still had the plan fresh in his mind despite it being from months earlier. He'd planned on kneeling right on the landing strip in front of everyone. She'd probably hit him before accepting when they were somewhere quiet or in a whisper. He would never know now.
He started trying the ring on and eventually it slid onto his pinkie. Maybe wearing it for awhile would help? He couldn't carry it in his pocket anymore. When he did the same scenario happened. He'd notice it in his pocket. Then he'd think to find Sophia to give it to her. It would take several seconds, which seemed like hours, to realize he couldn't go give it to her. The depression would sink in after. The whole process was driving him to insanity. This wasn't gas insanity but the real deal where you lose yourself inside. He was physically fine and would be but other parts were truly dead.
The tiny ring looked absurd on his finger so he removed it and tucked it back in his pocket. He used the pews to pull up to his feet. The stitches were still in his leg from knee to hip. They pulled and bunched when he moved. Effort and will were the only reason he could turn back to the coffin. She wasn't even there. Why was he here to look at an empty coffin? People thought this might help him heal. It didn't. All he was reminded of was the fact she'd been left on the battlefield. Several months had passed. Scavengers and Crazies had probably devoured her. It was too cold to rot up in Leningrad. The thought turned his stomach and left him taking long strides to the door. He needed air. Outside it was cold but the suffocating feeling remained. He doubted it would ever go.
Leningrad was the biggest screw up in his life. He'd lost his squadron, lost his eye, lost the ability to serve his country as shattered as it was. None of those things matter compared to losing Sophia. Nothing would fill the void that sprung open with her death. Cold seeped in there through the cracks. All he wanted was to go home. Three more weeks until he could see his parents. Three more weeks of suffering this alone.
Author/Artist: Titania
Pairing: Snake Plissken
Fandom: John Carpenter's Escape from NY/LA
Theme: 10. good-bye/heartbreak
Disclaimer: Snake belongs to John Carpenter, Debra Hill, Paramount Pictures, Kurt Russell and Hurricane Comics. Just showing my love for their genius.
Rating: PG
Words: 733
Author's Note Written for
fatherartistSnake stood for a long time staring at the flag covered coffin. Trying to imagine she was in there, which he knew she wasn't, was only slightly less impossible than telling himself she was gone. He put his hand on the canvas flag trying to remember or maybe forget the feeling of her hair and the way she always smelled just a little minty. She had an obsession with eating mints. Snake smiled but just as quickly it faded. Had a body been in there he would have had the coffin open and put the engagement ring on her finger. Now he was stuck with it. He was stuck without her.
The ring caused him grief. It was like starting toward a goal only to have the key piece disappear. He could never go back and never finish. This was a trap. Plissken hated being in any position where there were no choices. He wanted his mother. He felt childish for that thought but he really just wanted to be hugged by her. She couldn't make this better but at least she could be there. Here he was alone. Taylor was still confined to the hospital. That left him staring at the empty coffin meant for the woman he should be marrying now not pretending to put her into the ground.
Snake stepped back and sat on the stairs with his back to the coffin. The chapel was empty. War was in full swing and no one had much time for this. Plissken had all the time in the world. He had his orders; discharged for medical complications. It was honorable and understandable but right now the war would be a welcome distraction. Even knowing that they'd been sent to die on purpose the war was better than sitting here.
He dug in the uniform pocket and pulled out the gold band with the small diamond. He hadn't had much saved up to buy it but the ring was respectable enough. Plissken held it in his palm watching the candle light on the stone. He still had the plan fresh in his mind despite it being from months earlier. He'd planned on kneeling right on the landing strip in front of everyone. She'd probably hit him before accepting when they were somewhere quiet or in a whisper. He would never know now.
He started trying the ring on and eventually it slid onto his pinkie. Maybe wearing it for awhile would help? He couldn't carry it in his pocket anymore. When he did the same scenario happened. He'd notice it in his pocket. Then he'd think to find Sophia to give it to her. It would take several seconds, which seemed like hours, to realize he couldn't go give it to her. The depression would sink in after. The whole process was driving him to insanity. This wasn't gas insanity but the real deal where you lose yourself inside. He was physically fine and would be but other parts were truly dead.
The tiny ring looked absurd on his finger so he removed it and tucked it back in his pocket. He used the pews to pull up to his feet. The stitches were still in his leg from knee to hip. They pulled and bunched when he moved. Effort and will were the only reason he could turn back to the coffin. She wasn't even there. Why was he here to look at an empty coffin? People thought this might help him heal. It didn't. All he was reminded of was the fact she'd been left on the battlefield. Several months had passed. Scavengers and Crazies had probably devoured her. It was too cold to rot up in Leningrad. The thought turned his stomach and left him taking long strides to the door. He needed air. Outside it was cold but the suffocating feeling remained. He doubted it would ever go.
Leningrad was the biggest screw up in his life. He'd lost his squadron, lost his eye, lost the ability to serve his country as shattered as it was. None of those things matter compared to losing Sophia. Nothing would fill the void that sprung open with her death. Cold seeped in there through the cracks. All he wanted was to go home. Three more weeks until he could see his parents. Three more weeks of suffering this alone.
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