(no subject)

So. Um. Apparently 'cause I'm writing tragedy now, means that I must dream in it. Or something. Along with a Nightwish-Clannad soundtrack. Something about Roland and me and a couple other people including at least one of the kids from Newsies on a bus heading through a vaguely The-Stand-post-flu-pre-Boulder USA. Bunch of us, after a bit. Just driving. Looking for the Dark Tower, as you do when you're with Roland.

And then we stop over at Viggo Mortensen's house. Or rather, his character's house, Tom Stall. Except, weirdly? Tom Stall's house looks like my aunt's farmhouse. Anyway, we stop over there to resupply, because apparently we have his son on our Dark Tower trip. And something happens and we're all picking out books to take and food and then there's a phone call. And I put on a headset and answer the phone in a crisp, quick, professional voice, kind of like I do at work. As you do, when you're at someone else's house. And it's the police from another county, looking for Stall to arrest him in homicide charges. Well, what do you do when the police want to know if you know where a suspect is?

Lie, of course.

So I lied and told him he wasn't here, I couldn't see him, there were a lot of kids around (which I had already told him, hang on, let me go somewhere quieter) so. But I was standing right next to him. And he gives me this 'what's up' look and I tell him that cops want to see him, tell Roland to go out to the bus. And I tell him about the cop from this state wanting him and someone else for murder, and he gets this 'sigh. oh yeah' look. And then the cop shows up.

And he's standing in the corner of the building by the door. And I'm standing next to him in front of the door. And he, randomly? Has guns on his hip. Like the gunslinger. And I'm telling him to give me the gun as his hands are hovering over his guns and the cop's pointing the gun at him and telling him not to be stupid and his wife's staring at us both not freaking out by an incredible act of will. And I tell him it's going to be all right. And finally, he pulls the gun but in the very slow, I'm-setting-this-down way. And the cop's all good, that's good. Because he's a good cop. Played by Tommy Lee Jones. For some reason it was all actors in my dream.

And then he's toppling to the ground after a loud bang, in that tree-falling way you do when you've been shot in a movie. In slo-motion. Big hole in his head. Like, the kind you can see daylight through. Or put your fist through. Well, maybe my fist, I have a small fist. And his wife's screaming and crying, and Im screaming you didn't have to do that and his partner, former partner, who evidently shot him, who comes walking out now, and who is somehow played by Bruce Campbell, says he would have wanted to go down shooting. And I cuss him out for being ten kinds of a moron and put Tom's head on my knee 'cause for some reason he's still alive, even if he's not thinking too clearly (would you with that big a hole in your head?) and I tell him it's okay. Tell him it's going to be all right. That he did good. And I touch his cheek and stroke his hair and he dies.

Tommy Lee Jones arrests Bruce Campbell. I tell him Tom/Viggo really had changed. He says that's not his job, but it sure looked like it. I wake up to a Clannad-Nightwish soundtrack, the slow lilting mourning kind.

BDL #20 - Criminal Minds

Title: Father Knows Best
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters: Gideon, Reid, and the gang
Word Count: 629
Rating: PG
Summary: Gideon's had kids on his team before, but not like this. Follows this



Gideon watches the new kid, and kid is the right word for it because for all his genius he’s got the awkward uncertainty of his age, waiting to see if he’s right. Instinct tells him that despite the problems of alcoholism and potential sociopathy Dr. Reid could be a valuable member of the team. Caution and experience tell him to keep an eye out anyway.

He never tells Reid he’s worried about his drinking, his isolation, his inability to connect with others. Doesn’t leave pamphlets on his desk or drop well-meaning conversational anvils or tell stories about this cousin or that uncle. He orders soft drinks or fizzy water when they go out for dinner as a team, when they’re in the field, even after the case is over and they’re decompressing. Hotchner knows, and Morgan takes his cue from the boss. He keeps Reid distracted with puzzles. Locked room mysteries, informational quirks, strange fruit. He notices Reid has trouble integrating his emotions with his intellect, and challenges him to a game of chess. Reid looks puzzled but not angry when he loses, confused that the natural order of things has been upset.

Days pass. Weeks. Their assignments take them out of town regularly but not too frequently. He keeps an eye on Reid coming into work, keeps an eye on his receipts coming home. Once or twice he makes his way out to Bethesda for sushi and an evening spent trolling the local bookstore. He notices when Reid doesn’t notice the checkout girl hitting on him.

He intercepts Morgan when the other agent takes an interest in the kid, suggests a bar might not be the most comfortable environment. A coffee shop might be more his style, and Morgan agrees. Gideon watches from across the room as Reid tenses up the first time Morgan asks if he wants to grab coffee for an hour, since it’s going to be a long night. Hotchner’s too professional to be a jock.

It’s not the next day but two days later as they’re flying back to Quantico that Reid offers to play some straight-up poker with Morgan. Reminding him that Reid was raised in Vegas, Gideon observes with interest. The kid flinches when he beats Morgan into the ground, but the older agent laughs and insists on a rematch to win some of his pride back, if not his money. He doesn’t, but Reid tries to gain points by setting up an impromptu blackjack table in the plane, talking like a carnie barker to cover his nerves. Elle and Hotchner join in, making him the center of positive non-work-related attention for the first time since he joined the team.

When Reid makes a year without a drink, when Hotchner and Morgan have backed up ‘Dr. Reid,’ when he can hold a conversation with Elle and not stutter his way into silence, Gideon leaves a poker chip on his desk. Reid looks over at him with that raised-eyebrow shy-smile stare.

“Is it my birthday or something?”

Gideon chuckles and nods over his shoulder. “Or something, Special Agent Reid,” he says. Adds, before Reid can turn around. “I’m proud of you.”

He understands. They both understand, always have. Morgan and Hotchner have come up behind him by the time the rest of it sinks in. “I’m not a probie anymore?”

“And you know what that means, right?” Morgan says, right behind him, and Reid jumps. Eyes him with exaggerated suspicion, but his shoulders are down and his hands are unclenched. Gideon smiles, turning away.

“Uh. No?”

He’s still walking when Reid starts babbling protests, laughing, the sound of him backpedaling over someone’s opened file drawer. Morgan says something about hazing, and he rolls his eyes. Smiles.

Puts up another picture in his office.

(no subject)

If I don't find my five-page 68-scene outline for my Pen Bryton novel, there will be fucking murders.

PHEW. See, this is why my work area needs to be TIDY.

(no subject)

I just spent two hours asleep on the couch with the cat on my head.

I so need to write today, especialyl after this morning's panic. But that was worth it.

(no subject)

Balanced out writing one of the most depressing tragedies of my writing career thus far with watching The Princess Bride.

Apparently Mandy Patinkin, for a 1987 featurette, pretended he actually had more trouble with the English language than his character did. Brat.