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Oct. 22nd, 2006 01:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
korilianHere's the first chapter of my Wesley-crossover ficathon entry, which is even more shamefully late when you consider that I'm probably on a transatlantic time dilation from versaphile...
versaphile...Read more
Title: Rosetta
Summary: Go see the doctor.
Rating: PG13, slashy overtures later.
The request is: Lost
Content Requests: Jack/Wesley. Slash or gen (slash is preferable). A helpful suggestion and learning something new.
AN: This one’s real late, because it was a b*tch to write. My tenses were all over the place! Argh! What the hell have I been reading in present tense! It seeped into my brain!
Lost up to S2 finale. Buffy AU after graduation day.
---
Prologue
“Go see the doctor.”
Wesley kept his face carefully devoid of scorn as he limped down the steps of Mongoose station. It didn’t do to show dislike for his fellows even if he had to delve into the very depths of his British upbringing to manage at times like this. “Yes, I was planning on that actually.”
Tom who was a lot higher in the pecking order then Wesley was, didn’t have any qualms about letting him know exactly how he felt and right now he was probably feeling pretty good about himself, since he was showered, wearing shoes and clothes that weren’t brown rags not to mention picking standardized Dharma taters from a tray.
Tom easily moved in his way when he tried to push past, shoving the tray in his hands, “I meant our guest.”
Wesley blinked at him and tried to resist the urge to stamp his bare foot and leave blood all over the concrete floor. “You must be joking!” Because even stiff upper lip will only carry a man so far. “I just spend four day’s trailing that fat American through the jungle! In the end we had to cause a small rockslide just to get him going in the right direction! My big toe is completely sliced open and you are putting me on guard duty?!?”
“You’re dressed for the occasion.” Tom took a moment to stroke his chin sans the fake beard that always made him look like a hillbilly.
“I’m injured.” He sneered. “The wound is probably already getting infected. And they already know about our front anyway.”
“Just get to it Pryce.”
“Whatever you say Zeke.” Wesley limped away fuming, until it nearly caused the plate topple over since the least he could do for the poor bastard in cell 3, was to make sure he got some food.
He’d made damn sure he never did anything to draw suspicion to himself. He had never quite managed to gain the trust of the men in charge though. From day one Tom had pegged him as a soft touch. Even after he’d gained the fighting skills that the council’s training under controlled circumstances had never managed to instil in him and learned to move soundlessly through the wild (to a degree. He never truly got the hang of it), the man’s opinion of him hadn’t changed a lick.
Ever since the pregnant girl escaped things had been awkward to say the least. It was pretty obvious someone on the inside had helped her and even if they couldn’t prove anything, he was on the suspect list. It was why he’s suddenly being dragged away from his vital research to do grunt work. Putting him in his place. Although, considering he was being bossed around by the same man who thought it was a good idea to send the least fit plane crash survivor on a jungle trek, there was probably some random sadism involved as well.
He motioned the man on guard to unlock the cell. The doctor was huddled against the far wall. He looked up but didn't move from his place. From the black eye Wesley deducted that he hadn't been quite that agreeable a couple of days ago.
He carefully put the tray on the floor and pushed it over with his foot. He was halfway out the door when the doctor called out to him.
“You’re hurt.”
He stopped baffled, because this was either the fastest development of Stockholm syndrome ever, or the man actually thought his captors were stupid enough to fall for such a blatant cliché.
The smart thing would be to just keep walking. Talking back would definetely get him in trouble later, but it had been a rough week and he was never one to take it gracefully when his intelligence was insulted. He turned and put on an agreeable smile, “Ah yes. I cut myself following your countryman. Nothing to worry about, I assure you.” It was cruel and he instantly feld like a bastard. “I’d er… better let someone look at it.”
The doctor wasn’t versed at hiding his emotions. His shoulders twitched like he was barely able to stop himself from launching himself at Wesley.
“You’re British?”
He’s impressed how even the man managed to say those words. “Indeed. Very observant.”
“You’re a long way from home.”
He didn’t roll his eyes because he was far to intrigued by this development. Small talk with the enemy... Having grown up in a watchers family, facing an enemy that could tear you limb for limb, it wasn’t exactly a tactic he could related to. Then again… the children in Sunnydale had certainly indulged in a lot of witty repartee with their foe’s.
This would be the part where the doctor tried to form an emotional connection and gain his sympathy then?
“Really? Do you even know where we are?”
The doctor grew flustered. Wesley left him to it.
---
He ended up regretting striking up a conversation even sooner then he’d expected when their esteemed leader cornered him and informed him he’d be dealing with the doctor for the foreseeable future.
“I’ll get behind on my work.” Wesley argued weakly.
“You have been working on this project for years, without much success. A few days lost won’t make that much difference.” There was a distinct glint in his eyes that said it was about time Wesley started earning his keep around here. That look had been showing up more and more.
“I suppose.” He shuffled some papers across his desk. “The translating process is extremely tricky you know.” He tried to justify. “The writing is unlike any human language we've ever come across and it’s not like there’s a convenient Rosetta stone for me to use. Another trip to the statue might…”
“Work with the doctor.” Henry interrupted sharply. “He tried to connect with you. Encourage him to open up without being obvious. We’ll talk about the feasibility of your research another time.”
Wesley sighed miserably and stared down at the text.
TBC
Title: Rosetta
Summary: Go see the doctor.
Rating: PG13, slashy overtures later.
The request is: Lost
Content Requests: Jack/Wesley. Slash or gen (slash is preferable). A helpful suggestion and learning something new.
AN: This one’s real late, because it was a b*tch to write. My tenses were all over the place! Argh! What the hell have I been reading in present tense! It seeped into my brain!
Lost up to S2 finale. Buffy AU after graduation day.
---
Prologue
“Go see the doctor.”
Wesley kept his face carefully devoid of scorn as he limped down the steps of Mongoose station. It didn’t do to show dislike for his fellows even if he had to delve into the very depths of his British upbringing to manage at times like this. “Yes, I was planning on that actually.”
Tom who was a lot higher in the pecking order then Wesley was, didn’t have any qualms about letting him know exactly how he felt and right now he was probably feeling pretty good about himself, since he was showered, wearing shoes and clothes that weren’t brown rags not to mention picking standardized Dharma taters from a tray.
Tom easily moved in his way when he tried to push past, shoving the tray in his hands, “I meant our guest.”
Wesley blinked at him and tried to resist the urge to stamp his bare foot and leave blood all over the concrete floor. “You must be joking!” Because even stiff upper lip will only carry a man so far. “I just spend four day’s trailing that fat American through the jungle! In the end we had to cause a small rockslide just to get him going in the right direction! My big toe is completely sliced open and you are putting me on guard duty?!?”
“You’re dressed for the occasion.” Tom took a moment to stroke his chin sans the fake beard that always made him look like a hillbilly.
“I’m injured.” He sneered. “The wound is probably already getting infected. And they already know about our front anyway.”
“Just get to it Pryce.”
“Whatever you say Zeke.” Wesley limped away fuming, until it nearly caused the plate topple over since the least he could do for the poor bastard in cell 3, was to make sure he got some food.
He’d made damn sure he never did anything to draw suspicion to himself. He had never quite managed to gain the trust of the men in charge though. From day one Tom had pegged him as a soft touch. Even after he’d gained the fighting skills that the council’s training under controlled circumstances had never managed to instil in him and learned to move soundlessly through the wild (to a degree. He never truly got the hang of it), the man’s opinion of him hadn’t changed a lick.
Ever since the pregnant girl escaped things had been awkward to say the least. It was pretty obvious someone on the inside had helped her and even if they couldn’t prove anything, he was on the suspect list. It was why he’s suddenly being dragged away from his vital research to do grunt work. Putting him in his place. Although, considering he was being bossed around by the same man who thought it was a good idea to send the least fit plane crash survivor on a jungle trek, there was probably some random sadism involved as well.
He motioned the man on guard to unlock the cell. The doctor was huddled against the far wall. He looked up but didn't move from his place. From the black eye Wesley deducted that he hadn't been quite that agreeable a couple of days ago.
He carefully put the tray on the floor and pushed it over with his foot. He was halfway out the door when the doctor called out to him.
“You’re hurt.”
He stopped baffled, because this was either the fastest development of Stockholm syndrome ever, or the man actually thought his captors were stupid enough to fall for such a blatant cliché.
The smart thing would be to just keep walking. Talking back would definetely get him in trouble later, but it had been a rough week and he was never one to take it gracefully when his intelligence was insulted. He turned and put on an agreeable smile, “Ah yes. I cut myself following your countryman. Nothing to worry about, I assure you.” It was cruel and he instantly feld like a bastard. “I’d er… better let someone look at it.”
The doctor wasn’t versed at hiding his emotions. His shoulders twitched like he was barely able to stop himself from launching himself at Wesley.
“You’re British?”
He’s impressed how even the man managed to say those words. “Indeed. Very observant.”
“You’re a long way from home.”
He didn’t roll his eyes because he was far to intrigued by this development. Small talk with the enemy... Having grown up in a watchers family, facing an enemy that could tear you limb for limb, it wasn’t exactly a tactic he could related to. Then again… the children in Sunnydale had certainly indulged in a lot of witty repartee with their foe’s.
This would be the part where the doctor tried to form an emotional connection and gain his sympathy then?
“Really? Do you even know where we are?”
The doctor grew flustered. Wesley left him to it.
---
He ended up regretting striking up a conversation even sooner then he’d expected when their esteemed leader cornered him and informed him he’d be dealing with the doctor for the foreseeable future.
“I’ll get behind on my work.” Wesley argued weakly.
“You have been working on this project for years, without much success. A few days lost won’t make that much difference.” There was a distinct glint in his eyes that said it was about time Wesley started earning his keep around here. That look had been showing up more and more.
“I suppose.” He shuffled some papers across his desk. “The translating process is extremely tricky you know.” He tried to justify. “The writing is unlike any human language we've ever come across and it’s not like there’s a convenient Rosetta stone for me to use. Another trip to the statue might…”
“Work with the doctor.” Henry interrupted sharply. “He tried to connect with you. Encourage him to open up without being obvious. We’ll talk about the feasibility of your research another time.”
Wesley sighed miserably and stared down at the text.
TBC
