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Mementos

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fearciuil	Mementos	Lead	[-]
Posts: 232 (03/09/08 14:17:03) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts	Tags : jack mccoy, introspection, character, mike cutter, ben stone Disclaimer: Nope. Nuh-uh. No way. Not mine. A/N: This was inspired by a challenge from the Apocrypha archives: "Explain a prop" ... and the plotbunnies are bouncing around, clamoring for more. I'm gonna submit to Apocrypha when I've got a few of these, too, so please tell me what you think! Coincidence? I think not! Last Edited By: fearciuil 03/10/08 14:54:26. Edited 4 times.
fearciuil		#1	[-]
Posts: 233 (03/09/08 14:19:34) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts	I. Dreams The baseball was blue. It was so familiar to him, and he was so often preoccupied when he seized it and began tossing it to himself, that he scarcely noticed most of the time. But the fact remained that it was blue. Like his favorite shirt. He lowered himself into his chair with a sigh, wearing the shirt and staring at the ball. Both of them represented a childhood dream, one in which he walked a beat and carried a gun and was a hero at the end of the day. One in which he had a home--one that didn't change every three months; one from which he could walk into a restaurant and order food instead of just stealing condiment packets to eat for dinner. He sighed again and tossed the ball into the air, watching the letters "NYPD" emblazoned across it blur into a white streak across the blue. He remembered watching those heroes in blue uniforms as a very young child and longing to be one of them. But his spine had grown wrong: a slight scoliosis had kept him out of the academy. So he went to law school instead--on a full scholarship--and joined the DA's office soon after he was sworn in before the Bar. But he still liked to pretend he was a hero in blue. So he wore the blue shirt. And he kept that blue baseball. Coincidence? I think not! Last Edited By: fearciuil 03/09/08 14:41:44. Edited 2 times.
fearciuil		#2	[-]
Posts: 234 (03/09/08 14:39:14) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts	II. Success It had been a gift from his mother. He never paid much attention to it anymore. Even when he absently twisted it around his finger so it faced out, as it was supposed to, he ignored the initials engraved into its surface. It was as much a part of him as his scrappy-genteel nature. But for some reason, it caught his attention this time as he removed it for the night. He ran his fingers over the engraving and smiled a sad-bitter smile. They had both been there, his father and his mother, when he was sworn in before the Bar. They'd made a special trip out East to see it. And when the ceremony was over, they tracked him down amongst the crowd made up mostly of his classmates and their families. He'd greeted his mother with a hug, as he always did, and after a short hesitation, he shook his father's hand. They'd gone out for dinner afterwards, and that was when she presented the ring to him. "Lawyers need to look expensive," she'd whispered in his ear, making him grin. He admired the ring in its box for a moment before slipping it onto his finger. It fit perfectly. Even as the talk turned to other things--his brother's baseball team; his uncle's promotion at the factory--he kept glancing at the ring and smiling at the way the light played over the initials thereon. J. J. M. John J. McCoy ... Esquire. Coincidence? I think not!
fearciuil		#3	[-]
Posts: 235 (03/09/08 16:10:21) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts	III. Letting go It was one of the last vestiges of the idealism of his youth. He'd never worn it; he found tiepins to be more bother than help. Yet he'd held onto this one: not because it was useful, but because of what it represented. Like the portrait that had once hung in his office, it was a symbol of what he had once believed possible. Most of those possibilities were all but gone, now, stolen in an instant--along with Ann Madsen's life. He'd spent several years after that traveling in Europe, always carrying the tiepin with him as a promise to himself that he would return to make a difference. But the reality was that he was too late, now. That bloodthirsty, womanizing bastard had been appointed District Attorney--the job that everyone knew was supposed to have been his. It was time to give up. He clicked the link that would accept the winning bid and squinted at the name that came up: "Michael Cutter." Good. No one he knew. He scrawled the address on an envelope and slipped the tiepin inside. ******* A/N: Sorry, Clearbell, but Ben's present is all tangled up with MM's in my mind, so I can't bring myself to be particularly hopeful about him. Coincidence? I think not! Last Edited By: fearciuil 03/10/08 09:05:32. Edited 3 times.
Keri2		#4	[-]
Posts: 624 (03/09/08 16:50:26) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts	Nifty nifty!!!
Clearbell.waterstonfans		#5	[-]
Posts: 1 (03/09/08 18:08:50) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts	All of these are terrific, but I love the Ben drabble. How fitting. And I totally didn't see it coming. And yeah, many of my Ben fics aren't terribly optimistic either.
fearciuil		#6	[-]
Posts: 236 (03/10/08 09:35:10) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts Message Me Connection Blocking Invite Ignore User's Posts	IV. Token It was a reminder. It was a reminder of both where she had come from and how far she had yet to go. She'd seen it in the museum gift shop all those years ago and had been tempted-she collected African folk art-but passed it by because of the price. And then Donnie had given it to her for their anniversary, and suggested she keep it in her office. As a reminder, he'd said. And for protection, he'd also said, only half-joking; being the spouse of a cop was never easy, never stress-free. She'd objected at first-she didn't want to become one of those people, the ones who used the color of their skin as an excuse to do nothing but complain about The Man. Even so, there were those among the brass who already thought she was one of those people. So she had let Donnie talk her into tucking it away on the shelf in her office. And there it stayed, that African goddess, as a reminder of so many things. Coincidence? I think not!

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