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roesslyngTitle: Let the rain come down
Characters/Pairing: Aksel Eide/Sigrun Larsen
Rating: 10+ for canon-typical everything.
Length: 1.7k
Summary: Feels so good to have you here; some of you will be dead next year...
The lights go out. The rain won't stop falling. But as long as they're together, it will be fine.
Other: Written for Qichi for Chocolate Box Exchange. :D (Original post)
Lyrics are from 'Steal Smoked Fish' by The Mountain Goats.
Let the rain come down
The rain fell. It rushed down, flooded the roads, washed them out completely. For a while, it wouldn't stop coming. Then the rain became snow, which didn't make anything better. What they were left with was mud, and slush, and more mud.
But no one tried to come in. Not by the road, which was firmly blocked and wouldn't be passable any time soon. Not by water, either. And soon nobody would have a chance of getting in over land. There were plans for a fence.
The general store–cum–coffee joint stayed open during that early time. It ran low on pretty much everything soon enough, but the doors stayed open. With the generators working, the lights stayed on, and the brightness was warm and welcoming. "I don't care if you use this as a meeting place," the owner said on that day when it seemed that the whole village had gathered there, when the situation was starting to look like it might be much more serious than first expected. "We can all wait this out together."
It was easier to be sure that everyone was doing all right when they were within sight of one another. The entire village of Dalsnes knew that, though they didn't say it. Not exactly. They just met there, took up tables with friends, kept thin spirits up by playing cards. By telling stories. By making stories up when they ran out of stories to tell. Far better to do it somewhere familiar and comfortable than anywhere else. Many even brought their cats in, and let them wander about as they pleased. Somehow, it felt more comfortable with the cats around. Safer.
At first, the radio behind the counter was left turned on all the time, just as it had always been. But it wasn't long before the radio no longer played music, and instead only brought bad news.
When the country closed its borders, it came as a surprise, though maybe it shouldn't have. Was everything as bad as all that? And the rumours. People calling in to the stations, saying they had heard things. Seen things. Stories. That there were too many people getting sick. That there were too many people dying.
Stories of other things, too. Monsters.
A week and a half after the road washed out, they turned on the radio, and there was nothing but static. Aksel frowned, turning the dial slowly. Pressed his ear to the speaker and turned it this way and that, listening carefully. The major stations had shut down days ago, but they had managed to get reception from smaller locations nearby, for a while. Not that what came through was anything that anybody wanted to hear, but it was important to keep ahead of what was going on, wasn't it?
He twisted the dial in fractions. Static. Twist, pause, listen. Static. Nothing. Twist. Pause. Listen.
Finally, a voice. Or something like a voice, coming through, barely audible underneath the static.
"Give it up, Aksel, you're not going to get anything today."
"Shh– wait!" He held up a hand, shushing Sigrun, thankful when she did go quiet, even if he was sure she was rolling her eyes.
He listened. Closed his eyes. Turned the volume up. Yes, it was a broadcast, he was sure.
The voice beneath the static was more like a sob, and suddenly the static gave way, and the words came in clear.
Help us. Please, God, anybody. Help us...
Aksel froze. The words were there. But they weren't like any voice he had ever heard. They were low, distorted, like a glitch audio file played backward. The words had teeth in them.
He pulled away from the radio and switched it off. Breathed deeply. Swallowed a couple of times. When he looked back toward his friends, Gøran and Sigrun were staring at him.
"What?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets, trying to look nonchalant.
"You look... uh..." Gøran started, then stopped, as if he wasn't quite sure how to describe it.
"...Like you're gonna throw up," Sigrun finished. "If you're going to be sick, don't do it in here, okay?"
Well, she was right. He did feel sick. "I just...." Breathe. Stop. Breathe. "I need some fresh air."
He grabbed his coat and headed to the door and pretended not to hear them asking if he was sure he would be all right.
Rain. Air. Cold.
Aksel shoved his coat on. Didn't bother to zip it. Stood underneath the roof's overhang to keep the water off. Inhaled and exhaled and tried to keep down the acid, tried to ease the churning in his stomach.
The sound played over in his head. Those words beneath the static. The voice that, when he thought about it, had sounded like many voices, all crying out together.
He shuddered and tried desperately not to vomit.
The door opened, then slammed shut. Heavy boots stomped out onto the landing.
"Hey, Aksel."
Sigrun. Aksel bit the inside of his cheek. He did like her, really, even if she was kind of an ass now and then, but part of him wanted to tell her to go. He didn't need her particular brand of humour right now.
But she'd come. Hadn't she. That did count for something, maybe. Aksel sighed, deflated, letting his shoulders droop. "Hi," he said, and turned around.
Sigrun stood there in her jacket with a cat in her arms, the furry one–eyed thing belonging to the store's owner. "You're not going to be sick, are you?" she asked, cocking her head to the side suspiciously.
"No! I'm fine." And somehow, he was, or at least his stomach had finally settled.
"Good." She stepped toward him and held out the cat. "Here, take this."
"Wha– well, okay..." Aksel didn't bother to hide his confusion as he carefully took the cat up in his arms, grateful that the old moggie didn't seem to mind being handed over like a sack of potatoes. "Why?"
"Because you like cats. And you looked like you were going to cry. I mean, you looked like you were gonna puke, but you also looked like you were going to cry."
"...Oh."
They stood there for a while. Sigrun turned away from him and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her rainslicker, looking out at the rain. Aksel pressed his face into the cat's fur and listened to the low rumble of its purring. Well, she was right, he did like cats, but....
"So. Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?"
Oh.
"It's nothing. I'm fine."
"No, you're not. You looked like... well, I dunno. You looked really freaked out."
Aksel pursed his lips and pressed his face against the cat again. How could he explain it? He didn't even know what he'd actually heard. "The radio... Um."
"Oh, that." She turned to him, then. Looked up at him. "You know, before you got here, I was fiddling with it too. It's really creepy, ain't it? Those voices."
"So you heard it too? And you let me try it?!"
Sigrun shrugged. "Sure, why not? I wasn't sure if I was hearing something or if I was just imagining things. It was too weird."
"Argh...." It was all he could do to stop himself from throwing the cat at her and stalking away. It wouldn't be fair to the cat, after all. Instead, he looked away, gritting his teeth. Breathed in the cold damp air and tried not to get upset.
"What's your problem, anyway?"
Oh, for the love of – All the fresh air in the world wouldn't make this better, Aksel thought. "I'm scared." It felt wrong to admit it. He glanced at Sigrun out of the corner of his eye. "Aren't you?"
She tossed her head. Rolled her eyes. Here it comes, Aksel thought. Another jab. Another sarcastic remark. Another –
"Sure, I'm scared." Sigrun snorted. Shrugged. "So's Ingrid. So's Gøran. And Gunnar. And everybody. We're all scared."
"You are?"
"Yeah. A little. It was kind of cool at first, right? With the village cut off like this, it was like a plot in a movie or something. Now, it's... I dunno. Serious. I guess." She paused, looking unsure, then continued. "But being scared won't make it any better. Right?" Sigrun stepped closer to him, and reached up to absentmindedly scritch the cat behind the ears. "We can't just stand around being scaredy cats."
"I guess," Aksel mumbled. "It just – Everything's coming apart. It's like a nightmare."
"Sure. But it isn't a nightmare. The thing about bad dreams is, when you're having a bad dream, you're alone." She glanced up at him. "But you aren't alone. You've got your grandmother, and your friends, and you've also got..."
"...You."
"That's right." Sigrun grinned. "And you know what I'm going to do to any creepy shit that comes your way?"
"What?"
"Punch it in the face!"
Aksel couldn't help it. He laughed. It came out stifled, more like a wheeze than anything else, but it was there. He held it in, shoulders shaking, and tried not to squeeze the cat too hard, aware of the disapproving look it was giving him.
"You can't –" Another laugh bubbled up, and he bit his lip to hold it in. "You can't solve all your problems by punching things, Sigrun. Especially if those problems are like, weird rash illnesses. Sorry."
"Wanna' bet?"
"No!"
"Well, there ya go." She punched him in the shoulder, though thankfully not too hard, and the smile didn't fade from her face. "Just you wait. We'll be just fine."
"Maybe."
"No, don't give me any of that 'maybe' stuff."
"Okay, okay. Yes. Better?"
"Yeah. Better."
They stayed there a while and watched the rain. She leaned against him as if he were a wall, rested her head on his shoulder. Aksel decided that he didn't mind. The cat was warm in his arms, its purring loud enough to be heard over the sound of water rushing through the eaves trough. At his side, Sigrun was warm too, and as they stood there together, Aksel wished that he could make the moment last. That they could just stay there together until the rain stopped – and knowing Dalsnes, the rain would never stop coming down.
It will be okay, Aksel thought. As long as they all stuck together, everything would be okay.
Characters/Pairing: Aksel Eide/Sigrun Larsen
Rating: 10+ for canon-typical everything.
Length: 1.7k
Summary: Feels so good to have you here; some of you will be dead next year...
The lights go out. The rain won't stop falling. But as long as they're together, it will be fine.
Other: Written for Qichi for Chocolate Box Exchange. :D (Original post)
Lyrics are from 'Steal Smoked Fish' by The Mountain Goats.
Let the rain come down
The rain fell. It rushed down, flooded the roads, washed them out completely. For a while, it wouldn't stop coming. Then the rain became snow, which didn't make anything better. What they were left with was mud, and slush, and more mud.
But no one tried to come in. Not by the road, which was firmly blocked and wouldn't be passable any time soon. Not by water, either. And soon nobody would have a chance of getting in over land. There were plans for a fence.
The general store–cum–coffee joint stayed open during that early time. It ran low on pretty much everything soon enough, but the doors stayed open. With the generators working, the lights stayed on, and the brightness was warm and welcoming. "I don't care if you use this as a meeting place," the owner said on that day when it seemed that the whole village had gathered there, when the situation was starting to look like it might be much more serious than first expected. "We can all wait this out together."
It was easier to be sure that everyone was doing all right when they were within sight of one another. The entire village of Dalsnes knew that, though they didn't say it. Not exactly. They just met there, took up tables with friends, kept thin spirits up by playing cards. By telling stories. By making stories up when they ran out of stories to tell. Far better to do it somewhere familiar and comfortable than anywhere else. Many even brought their cats in, and let them wander about as they pleased. Somehow, it felt more comfortable with the cats around. Safer.
At first, the radio behind the counter was left turned on all the time, just as it had always been. But it wasn't long before the radio no longer played music, and instead only brought bad news.
When the country closed its borders, it came as a surprise, though maybe it shouldn't have. Was everything as bad as all that? And the rumours. People calling in to the stations, saying they had heard things. Seen things. Stories. That there were too many people getting sick. That there were too many people dying.
Stories of other things, too. Monsters.
A week and a half after the road washed out, they turned on the radio, and there was nothing but static. Aksel frowned, turning the dial slowly. Pressed his ear to the speaker and turned it this way and that, listening carefully. The major stations had shut down days ago, but they had managed to get reception from smaller locations nearby, for a while. Not that what came through was anything that anybody wanted to hear, but it was important to keep ahead of what was going on, wasn't it?
He twisted the dial in fractions. Static. Twist, pause, listen. Static. Nothing. Twist. Pause. Listen.
Finally, a voice. Or something like a voice, coming through, barely audible underneath the static.
"Give it up, Aksel, you're not going to get anything today."
"Shh– wait!" He held up a hand, shushing Sigrun, thankful when she did go quiet, even if he was sure she was rolling her eyes.
He listened. Closed his eyes. Turned the volume up. Yes, it was a broadcast, he was sure.
The voice beneath the static was more like a sob, and suddenly the static gave way, and the words came in clear.
Help us. Please, God, anybody. Help us...
Aksel froze. The words were there. But they weren't like any voice he had ever heard. They were low, distorted, like a glitch audio file played backward. The words had teeth in them.
He pulled away from the radio and switched it off. Breathed deeply. Swallowed a couple of times. When he looked back toward his friends, Gøran and Sigrun were staring at him.
"What?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets, trying to look nonchalant.
"You look... uh..." Gøran started, then stopped, as if he wasn't quite sure how to describe it.
"...Like you're gonna throw up," Sigrun finished. "If you're going to be sick, don't do it in here, okay?"
Well, she was right. He did feel sick. "I just...." Breathe. Stop. Breathe. "I need some fresh air."
He grabbed his coat and headed to the door and pretended not to hear them asking if he was sure he would be all right.
Rain. Air. Cold.
Aksel shoved his coat on. Didn't bother to zip it. Stood underneath the roof's overhang to keep the water off. Inhaled and exhaled and tried to keep down the acid, tried to ease the churning in his stomach.
The sound played over in his head. Those words beneath the static. The voice that, when he thought about it, had sounded like many voices, all crying out together.
He shuddered and tried desperately not to vomit.
The door opened, then slammed shut. Heavy boots stomped out onto the landing.
"Hey, Aksel."
Sigrun. Aksel bit the inside of his cheek. He did like her, really, even if she was kind of an ass now and then, but part of him wanted to tell her to go. He didn't need her particular brand of humour right now.
But she'd come. Hadn't she. That did count for something, maybe. Aksel sighed, deflated, letting his shoulders droop. "Hi," he said, and turned around.
Sigrun stood there in her jacket with a cat in her arms, the furry one–eyed thing belonging to the store's owner. "You're not going to be sick, are you?" she asked, cocking her head to the side suspiciously.
"No! I'm fine." And somehow, he was, or at least his stomach had finally settled.
"Good." She stepped toward him and held out the cat. "Here, take this."
"Wha– well, okay..." Aksel didn't bother to hide his confusion as he carefully took the cat up in his arms, grateful that the old moggie didn't seem to mind being handed over like a sack of potatoes. "Why?"
"Because you like cats. And you looked like you were going to cry. I mean, you looked like you were gonna puke, but you also looked like you were going to cry."
"...Oh."
They stood there for a while. Sigrun turned away from him and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her rainslicker, looking out at the rain. Aksel pressed his face into the cat's fur and listened to the low rumble of its purring. Well, she was right, he did like cats, but....
"So. Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?"
Oh.
"It's nothing. I'm fine."
"No, you're not. You looked like... well, I dunno. You looked really freaked out."
Aksel pursed his lips and pressed his face against the cat again. How could he explain it? He didn't even know what he'd actually heard. "The radio... Um."
"Oh, that." She turned to him, then. Looked up at him. "You know, before you got here, I was fiddling with it too. It's really creepy, ain't it? Those voices."
"So you heard it too? And you let me try it?!"
Sigrun shrugged. "Sure, why not? I wasn't sure if I was hearing something or if I was just imagining things. It was too weird."
"Argh...." It was all he could do to stop himself from throwing the cat at her and stalking away. It wouldn't be fair to the cat, after all. Instead, he looked away, gritting his teeth. Breathed in the cold damp air and tried not to get upset.
"What's your problem, anyway?"
Oh, for the love of – All the fresh air in the world wouldn't make this better, Aksel thought. "I'm scared." It felt wrong to admit it. He glanced at Sigrun out of the corner of his eye. "Aren't you?"
She tossed her head. Rolled her eyes. Here it comes, Aksel thought. Another jab. Another sarcastic remark. Another –
"Sure, I'm scared." Sigrun snorted. Shrugged. "So's Ingrid. So's Gøran. And Gunnar. And everybody. We're all scared."
"You are?"
"Yeah. A little. It was kind of cool at first, right? With the village cut off like this, it was like a plot in a movie or something. Now, it's... I dunno. Serious. I guess." She paused, looking unsure, then continued. "But being scared won't make it any better. Right?" Sigrun stepped closer to him, and reached up to absentmindedly scritch the cat behind the ears. "We can't just stand around being scaredy cats."
"I guess," Aksel mumbled. "It just – Everything's coming apart. It's like a nightmare."
"Sure. But it isn't a nightmare. The thing about bad dreams is, when you're having a bad dream, you're alone." She glanced up at him. "But you aren't alone. You've got your grandmother, and your friends, and you've also got..."
"...You."
"That's right." Sigrun grinned. "And you know what I'm going to do to any creepy shit that comes your way?"
"What?"
"Punch it in the face!"
Aksel couldn't help it. He laughed. It came out stifled, more like a wheeze than anything else, but it was there. He held it in, shoulders shaking, and tried not to squeeze the cat too hard, aware of the disapproving look it was giving him.
"You can't –" Another laugh bubbled up, and he bit his lip to hold it in. "You can't solve all your problems by punching things, Sigrun. Especially if those problems are like, weird rash illnesses. Sorry."
"Wanna' bet?"
"No!"
"Well, there ya go." She punched him in the shoulder, though thankfully not too hard, and the smile didn't fade from her face. "Just you wait. We'll be just fine."
"Maybe."
"No, don't give me any of that 'maybe' stuff."
"Okay, okay. Yes. Better?"
"Yeah. Better."
They stayed there a while and watched the rain. She leaned against him as if he were a wall, rested her head on his shoulder. Aksel decided that he didn't mind. The cat was warm in his arms, its purring loud enough to be heard over the sound of water rushing through the eaves trough. At his side, Sigrun was warm too, and as they stood there together, Aksel wished that he could make the moment last. That they could just stay there together until the rain stopped – and knowing Dalsnes, the rain would never stop coming down.
It will be okay, Aksel thought. As long as they all stuck together, everything would be okay.
