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ladybug_archiveI have no idea where this scene is going to be used. It had been planned for the climax of The Lycanthropy Case, but I really don't think it fits there. It's darker than I planned for that fic to be. So right now it's a blurb looking for its home. The basic concept involving the song was inspired by Crystal Rose's idea, as well as by the song itself. Fictional Rockapella only. ♥
Scott shuddered as he crawled over the splintered beams and piles of plaster. His tangled blond curls, even more in disarray than usual, flipped into his eyes as he moved. He barely noticed, squinting into the near-darkness as he gripped the edge of a plank of wood on which he was half-kneeling.
"El?!" he screamed.
A cough immediately erupted in his throat from the debris in the air. He turned away, coughing several more times before he could get himself under control. His eyes were watering.
"El!" he cried again. "Please, answer me!"
But there was no answer. Scott struggled on, fearing the worst and yet not able to bear even thinking it. Elliott could not be . . . he could not be! He had tried to push Scott away right before the building came down. . . . Scott had stumbled, crashing onto the grass as everything had shook. His foot had been pinned down by a heavy beam, and though it was not broken, it had definitely been hurt. As he crawled over the remnants of the old house, his ankle throbbed in displeasure. Though he did not stop to examine it, he knew it must be swelling.
He reached out again with a shaking hand. As he brought it down, he touched lifeless and clammy flesh. He screamed.
"El?! El?!" It had to be him; they were the only two who had been here. His fingers closed around the cold hand. It lay motionless, its owner not responding at all to the panicked grasp.
Scott groped through the pockets of his coat, finally pulling out a penlight. It was all he had, so it would have to do. He clicked it on, his hand trembling as he pointed the beam in the direction of the hand. Elliott was indeed laying there, facedown on a stack of broken pieces of ceiling. A heavy beam stretched across his lower back, pinning him in place.
It was all Scott could do to stick the penlight upright in a pile of plaster and crawl to Elliott without losing control of his emotions. "El?!" he cried, gritting his teeth as he forced the plank off of Elliott's lifeless body. For a moment he held it, suspended in the air, as a prayer ran through his mind. Please, let him get up. . . . Let him move away. . . . But Elliott did not stir. Scott heaved the beam away from them, letting it crash end over end several feet away.
Shaking, he laid his hands on Elliott's body, tracing the path of his best friend's spine. Something so weighty could have easily shattered it. Elliott could be paralyzed. . . . But there was not a break in the bones. If he would just regain consciousness, he should be able to walk and jump and dance. . . . Well, okay, not dance. . . .
Sliding closer, Scott gathered Elliott's upper body into his arms. "El, come on," he pleaded, gently turning the brunet to face him. "Wake up. . . ." He would not believe that Elliott was dead. He would never believe it, because it could not be true.
But it shattered his heart to see the older man laying so still. Elliott's eyes were closed, his expression one of pain. His skin was chalk white, and not from the nearby plaster. Scott touched his cheek to make sure.
He held the limp body closer. ". . . And you did this for me," he choked out. "You did it for me. . . ."
Elliott moved, shifting position in Scott's embrace. ". . . Scott . . . ?" he mumbled, half-opening his eyes.
Scott stiffened, looking down at the glazed brown eyes. "El!" he exclaimed, his sorrow over his friend's injuries mixing with the joy that he was coming to.
Elliott gave a weak smile. "You're okay . . ." he said. His voice sounded so strained, so raspy. . . .
Tears pricked Scott's eyes. "And you'll be okay, too," he reassured.
Elliott looked heartsick. ". . . I'm not sure I will be," he confessed. "My head . . . it's just pounding. . . . I think I probably have a really bad concussion. . . ."
Scott gripped Elliott tighter, as if somehow by his actions he could keep his friend on the mortal plane. "You'll be fine if you can stay awake until we get help!" he retorted. "I won't let you die!"
Elliott rested his head against Scott's shoulder. ". . . Does your phone work?" he asked. "I think mine's dead. . . ."
"Mine is too," Scott said. "I tried it when everything stopped coming down. . . ."
Wincing, Elliott shoved his hand into his pocket and withdrew his own communication device. No Signal flashed across the screen. And even the act of taking the phone out was too much effort for him. He groaned, his arm going slack as he burrowed against Scott's dark trenchcoat.
An arrow slammed into Scott's heart. Elliott's whole body was going limp. Was he slipping into unconsciousness again?
"El! You have to stay awake!" Scott cried. "If you go under now, you . . ." He swallowed hard. "You might not wake up. . . ."
"I can't . . ." Elliott mumbled. It was all he could do to focus on Scott's voice right now. The mists of oblivion were surrounding him, threatening to pull him down.
Scott clutched tighter at him, panic-stricken. His heart was racing. What could he do? There had to be something he could try that might keep Elliott more focused.
"Please stay awake, El," he begged. "You don't have to talk, but . . . just listen. . . ." Taking a deep breath, he began to sing.
I wanna live, I wanna give,
I been a miner for a heart of gold
It's these expressions I never give
That keep me searchin' for a heart of gold
And I'm gettin' old
I been to Hollywood, I been to Redwood
I've crossed the ocean for a heart of gold
I been in my mind, it's such a fine line
That keeps me searchin' for a heart of gold
And I'm gettin' old
His heart leaping into his throat, he looked down at Elliott. Was he still awake?
Glassy brown eyes looked up at him. Elliott managed a weak smile.
Scott smiled too, relief sweeping over him. "We can do this, El," he said. "Sean and Barry will find us. You've gotta stay awake until then."
". . . I'll try," Elliott struggled to reply.
I've already found a heart of gold, Scott thought to himself as he picked another song to sing. Three of them. . . .
Scott shuddered as he crawled over the splintered beams and piles of plaster. His tangled blond curls, even more in disarray than usual, flipped into his eyes as he moved. He barely noticed, squinting into the near-darkness as he gripped the edge of a plank of wood on which he was half-kneeling.
"El?!" he screamed.
A cough immediately erupted in his throat from the debris in the air. He turned away, coughing several more times before he could get himself under control. His eyes were watering.
"El!" he cried again. "Please, answer me!"
But there was no answer. Scott struggled on, fearing the worst and yet not able to bear even thinking it. Elliott could not be . . . he could not be! He had tried to push Scott away right before the building came down. . . . Scott had stumbled, crashing onto the grass as everything had shook. His foot had been pinned down by a heavy beam, and though it was not broken, it had definitely been hurt. As he crawled over the remnants of the old house, his ankle throbbed in displeasure. Though he did not stop to examine it, he knew it must be swelling.
He reached out again with a shaking hand. As he brought it down, he touched lifeless and clammy flesh. He screamed.
"El?! El?!" It had to be him; they were the only two who had been here. His fingers closed around the cold hand. It lay motionless, its owner not responding at all to the panicked grasp.
Scott groped through the pockets of his coat, finally pulling out a penlight. It was all he had, so it would have to do. He clicked it on, his hand trembling as he pointed the beam in the direction of the hand. Elliott was indeed laying there, facedown on a stack of broken pieces of ceiling. A heavy beam stretched across his lower back, pinning him in place.
It was all Scott could do to stick the penlight upright in a pile of plaster and crawl to Elliott without losing control of his emotions. "El?!" he cried, gritting his teeth as he forced the plank off of Elliott's lifeless body. For a moment he held it, suspended in the air, as a prayer ran through his mind. Please, let him get up. . . . Let him move away. . . . But Elliott did not stir. Scott heaved the beam away from them, letting it crash end over end several feet away.
Shaking, he laid his hands on Elliott's body, tracing the path of his best friend's spine. Something so weighty could have easily shattered it. Elliott could be paralyzed. . . . But there was not a break in the bones. If he would just regain consciousness, he should be able to walk and jump and dance. . . . Well, okay, not dance. . . .
Sliding closer, Scott gathered Elliott's upper body into his arms. "El, come on," he pleaded, gently turning the brunet to face him. "Wake up. . . ." He would not believe that Elliott was dead. He would never believe it, because it could not be true.
But it shattered his heart to see the older man laying so still. Elliott's eyes were closed, his expression one of pain. His skin was chalk white, and not from the nearby plaster. Scott touched his cheek to make sure.
He held the limp body closer. ". . . And you did this for me," he choked out. "You did it for me. . . ."
Elliott moved, shifting position in Scott's embrace. ". . . Scott . . . ?" he mumbled, half-opening his eyes.
Scott stiffened, looking down at the glazed brown eyes. "El!" he exclaimed, his sorrow over his friend's injuries mixing with the joy that he was coming to.
Elliott gave a weak smile. "You're okay . . ." he said. His voice sounded so strained, so raspy. . . .
Tears pricked Scott's eyes. "And you'll be okay, too," he reassured.
Elliott looked heartsick. ". . . I'm not sure I will be," he confessed. "My head . . . it's just pounding. . . . I think I probably have a really bad concussion. . . ."
Scott gripped Elliott tighter, as if somehow by his actions he could keep his friend on the mortal plane. "You'll be fine if you can stay awake until we get help!" he retorted. "I won't let you die!"
Elliott rested his head against Scott's shoulder. ". . . Does your phone work?" he asked. "I think mine's dead. . . ."
"Mine is too," Scott said. "I tried it when everything stopped coming down. . . ."
Wincing, Elliott shoved his hand into his pocket and withdrew his own communication device. No Signal flashed across the screen. And even the act of taking the phone out was too much effort for him. He groaned, his arm going slack as he burrowed against Scott's dark trenchcoat.
An arrow slammed into Scott's heart. Elliott's whole body was going limp. Was he slipping into unconsciousness again?
"El! You have to stay awake!" Scott cried. "If you go under now, you . . ." He swallowed hard. "You might not wake up. . . ."
"I can't . . ." Elliott mumbled. It was all he could do to focus on Scott's voice right now. The mists of oblivion were surrounding him, threatening to pull him down.
Scott clutched tighter at him, panic-stricken. His heart was racing. What could he do? There had to be something he could try that might keep Elliott more focused.
"Please stay awake, El," he begged. "You don't have to talk, but . . . just listen. . . ." Taking a deep breath, he began to sing.
I wanna live, I wanna give,
I been a miner for a heart of gold
It's these expressions I never give
That keep me searchin' for a heart of gold
And I'm gettin' old
I been to Hollywood, I been to Redwood
I've crossed the ocean for a heart of gold
I been in my mind, it's such a fine line
That keeps me searchin' for a heart of gold
And I'm gettin' old
His heart leaping into his throat, he looked down at Elliott. Was he still awake?
Glassy brown eyes looked up at him. Elliott managed a weak smile.
Scott smiled too, relief sweeping over him. "We can do this, El," he said. "Sean and Barry will find us. You've gotta stay awake until then."
". . . I'll try," Elliott struggled to reply.
I've already found a heart of gold, Scott thought to himself as he picked another song to sing. Three of them. . . .
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no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 04:55 am (UTC)Ooh... bittersweet moment with Scott realizing about the dancing...
And Scott singing the song to keep him awake... ;__; So sad and sweet at the same time.
**loved the ending line**
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 05:02 am (UTC)Poor El and him not being able to dance. XD
I loved putting in the last bit. X3
Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 08:54 am (UTC)And gosh, that song was so sad. ;__; Elliott's gotta make it! **hugs them both.**
Awww, yeah, they really do all have hearts of gold. ♥
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 10:38 am (UTC)**hugs song.** It really is haunting, especially the way Scott sings it. It's one of my favorite tracks from the album.
X3
Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 02:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 02:17 pm (UTC)Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-23 07:29 pm (UTC)