July 31st, 2006

Sex Sells

Sawyer gets arrested

James "Sawyer" Ford
Author: sanguinepen
Word Count: 323
Rating: PG
Setting: Before the series.
Prompt: #17 Fear 7/50 for 50_darkfics

They grabbed him right out of the bar where he’d been trying to get his shaking hands under control. There was no warning, well no more than them identifying themselves as the police and that he – James Ford – was under arrest. His heart was pounding, and he could smell his perspiration as they slapped the cuffs on him. They didn’t say why they were taking him, but he knew. It was because he’d murdered a man, an innocent man. A man who had made the mistake of trusting the wrong person, just like he had, and now one was dead and the other was on his way to hell. Did they have the Death Penalty in Australia? Would they shoot him? Lethal injection? Or did they have some other interesting way of putting a murderer to death like keel hauling him or tossing him out into the ocean with the Great Whites?

“Hey now,” he hissed as they shoved him in the back of the police car.

“Shut up you,” the cop snapped as he nearly slammed the door on the tall America before he was all the way inside.

“But what the hell do you want?” Ford knew that it was always best to feign ignorance. Never, ever, let them know you were guilty of anything, until they shoved you they had proof, and even then you might still be able to come up with a lie or twelve to get out of trouble. “I didn’t do nothin’ to nobody. Just mindin’ my business havin’ a drink.”

“Not going to be discussing it with you,” the cop glanced up at him through the heavy mesh of the cage that separated the front from the back seat. To Ford it felt like he was on the end of a plank waiting for the churning waters to rip the flesh from his bones. Fear was clouding his mind as they drove slowly through Sydney.
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Huntress Prophecy

It's been a good year - Huntress ficlet

The Huntress - Helena Kyle
Birds of Prey TV
"It's been a good year"
Author: sanguinepen
Word Count: 332
Prompt: #32 Past - 50_darkfics 6/50

“Why can’t I move on?” It was drizzling, a fine mist of droplets were clinging to my bangs, and I was long past feeling cold. You’d think that after spending night after night on the rooftops of New Gotham that I’d be immune to the cold, but I was feeling a shivering fit coming on. I was standing in the cemetery, a bunch of violets in my hands, along with a catnip plant that I’d bought in a moment of silliness at the Petco to give my mother for her birthday. I crouched down on the thick carpet of grass that had grown over her grave in the past seven years, and tucked the violets into the small vase that I’d set there. I knew they wouldn’t last long, but she had really loved them. The catnip would last longer if no stray cats ate it. I didn’t hold out much hope of that. Even in death, my mother attracted cats. She really was the daughter of Bast.

“I miss you mom.” I sank back on my heels, pulling my long trench coat around me to try to keep somewhat dry. “But it’s not like you don’t already know that. Barbara’s been having a good year. She met some guy named Wayne, and he turned out to be a clinging twerp. It was the longest breakup on record.”

“No, I haven’t met anyone, and I’m not looking either. I don’t know if I ever will.” I glanced across the field of monuments and trees trying to keep their leaves against the approaching winter when I thought I felt someone looking at me. But I didn’t see anyone. I was alone as usual. I’d even left my communicators in the car, so I could be alone with my mom and my past. “I’m happy. I wanted you to know that. It’s been a fun year for me too. And no, I haven’t seen my father. Probably why it’s been such a good year.”