bekah_cine

Fic: The Clock Ticks On

Thu, 10 Jan 2008 01:43:19 GMT

Here, again, is a post of my Smallville/Doctor Who crossover.
As I'm still figuring out how to link and such, I hope it all works.
Enjoy!

Title: The Clock Ticks On

Disclaimer: I own nothing for the ideas and characters within; respectively, the BBC and DC Comics get all the money, will my only wage is creativity.
And an urge to yell at the screen when the characters act stupid.

Warnings: slight mention, not even worth mentioning, of CLex. Oh, and possible for Third season Doctor Who episodes. Nothing concrete, just concepts.

He was staring out the window.

Alexander Luthor had always wanted to be president.

His father hadn’t pushed the ambition upon him, despite rumors, in an attempt to control the world through other ventures besides business

(Lex knew his father had labs enough for that, so did he)

It wasn’t even his own attempts at control, or domination. Whenever Lois Lane brought up the sore points of his past

(Belle Reeve, Superman, his obsessive vendetta against his progenitor)

he had to fight to reign in harsh words: was he too not allowed to grow, to change, to become different? Would he forever be tormented by sins, real and imagined? Would he ever see anything but wariness

(suspicion, caution, hate, hate, hate, hurt)

in Clark’s eyes?

But that was history, that was the past: this was now.

He had won. He had succeeded.

Alexander J. Luthor, President.

He runs his fingers over the watch face.

It had happened by accident, as the most monumental events in history often do.

Alexander Luthor had been standing by his desk, preparing to leave for the evening

(one-hundred and fifty-seven hours into his new position, three am)

when he had tugged to hard on the desk drawer and it had popped out, spilling contents onto the floor. He bent down to gather them and notice the watch, the watch from his mother. He had to smile, remembering

(telling Clark about its importance, holding the broken timepiece on his first night in office and imaging how proud his mother would be, imagining telling her everything)

and he ran his fingers over the watch that had long since broken.

He had gathered himself when one of his new and many secretaries had entered, with more papers

(wars, droughts, funding, science, polls, opinions, the press)

and had commented on the beauty and simple elegance of the watch, asking to look at it, as she collected. He had been feeling generous, good willed, and had handed it over with the words that

“It no longer runs. It’s broken, I’m afraid.”

And she had looked at it and said no: that it just needed to be opened.

And so, she did.

He casts the watch aside.

It had been terrible. It had been beautiful.

It had hurt. It had been painless.

It was like dying. It was like being born.

It was exquisite.

When the lights had faded from Alexander Luthor’s vision he was a different man than before.

His secretary smiled nervously at him.

He grinned back at her.

He makes his way from the room, moving his lips in a rhythm that only three others in the world

(galaxy, universe, existence, time)

would recognize.

His steps tap out the beat as he maneuvers around the body of the woman on the carpet, and he is impressed with the look of her in death.

He grabs his coat and gives her a salute and smile

(after all, she has set him free)

The Master closes the door behind him as he leaves the oval office, whistling a jaunty tune.

He has work to do.

Reviews make me grow.

Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven images: Speed

Sat, 14 Jul 2007 00:47:25 GMT

I'm reposting the pic, along with the others. It seemed unfair to have Speed float around on his own. I love how the youth of the character shines through, even though I'm pretty sure the character in the series was never so happy.

The song begged to be used, as I think if you allow the lyrics to lead, it brings both aspects of the identity; so far Speed's been fairly harmless. But she's not always so.

Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven images: Danny

Sat, 14 Jul 2007 00:42:54 GMT

Strangely enough, no matter how I try, I can see Danny only as a fighter, so I had to go with a song that fit the spirit of the character, unafraid and unashamed to be fantastic. After all, he is my fav character of all!

Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven images: Nick

Sat, 14 Jul 2007 00:38:44 GMT

I love the way this one turned out in position and clothes and look. As for the song, I can so see both Nicks dancing through the desert at night, barefoot and carefree.

Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven images: Tony

Sat, 14 Jul 2007 00:29:01 GMT

Alright, here's what I promised a while back and now they're finally getting up! Don't I rock.
These images are from my story Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven.
This is sidhe Tony and I played with his personality in it, let the playful sexy side shine through; well, I hope that's how it came across.
Come on, since DiNozzo knows he has it, he'll flaunt it. ;)

The song listed under 'music' is kinda like a theme song for this character.

a fic, a fic; I wrote I fic!

Fri, 13 Jul 2007 05:31:29 GMT

okay, this came after catching the rerun last night (I hadn't before seen that episode) and being struck by the callousness of that first scene, with Danny Mac and Peyton. The look on Danny's face struck me, hell, the whole scene was painful. So, with the darker thoughts in mind, I popped this drabble out; it takes place after Snow Day, so some slight spoilers, but it mostly just sums up things so far. I know that the writers are giving Danny some hope now, his relationship with Lindsey as testament, but it still seems like there is a lot of pain still within him, that hasn't been resolved yet. So, here this is, I hope you'all like. A little dark, be warned.

I'm not sure about the title.

Title: Ghost

Disclaimer: not mine, Danny will never be mine, he belongs to CBS

Rating: G, I don’t think there’s anything bad here; just dark thoughts, but not that dark.

Summary: Danny is waiting, walking, and looking. For what, he doesn’t know.

He exited the elevator, silent steps treading down barely lit passageways.

He felt like a spirit trespasser, intruding where he no longer belonged.

The halls of the building seemed haunted now, filled with the ghosts and echoes of his past, following like shadows as he walked, pushing past the plastic barriers of repair like the images in his mind.

After the explosion that lab had been closed, all work sent to other stations in the city, and they had been allowed to recuperate if they had wanted. Some followed the case load, unwilling to rest, others had needed the time to heal.

He wasn’t sure what he needed.

And so, late or early, when the construction workers had long gone home, he walked the lab, like one of the ghost in his thoughts.

He bypasses the lockers, named and plated, meaningless in these hours when identity doesn't exist.

He hated that Aiden had hardly been here before she was gone, that he couldn’t hear the resonant of her laugh in the labs, that Lindsey’s softer and more hesitant tones covered all of the presence he longed for.

He hated how they had all forgotten her, his dark lady, until death brought her back to their minds. He hates how easily she was replaced. But that isn’t Lindsey’s fault.

He doesn't hate Lindsey for that.

He hates that she fills a place at all, even in him, that she was able to arrive and fit without problem. That she was accepted, even by him. That she was welcome and cared for and loved, even by him.

He hates that she fits so well here, while he doesn't. Not anymore. If he ever did.

He walks on.

Turning a corridor brought him towards Mac office, more vacant then not now, and long since empty. Mac was a continent away, so far, but he knew that the space was made wider by harsh spoken words and long past concessions. It reeked to him of Peyton now, their rendezvous, and he is sickened to think that he had played so well, by them all, that he hadn’t known until it was shoved in his face, like an afterthought.

Invisible until needed.

But then, he had stopped trying to please them long ago.

They aren’t the reason he does this job.

The floors are new, white, and he wants to scuff them; leave some reminder of his presence, something that will tell them that he was here.

He knows that’s wrong.

He flexes his hand and the fingers creak.

They barely hurt anymore.

He knows that this is bad, that it’s most likely PTS, that he needs help, that retracing the past leads nowhere.

But he can’t stop.

He understands the ones who cut now; it’s about bleeding to know you still exist; this is his knife, this walk in the witching hour, cutting pieces of his memories away until there is nothing.

He knows that he’ll keep doing this, as no one else sees.

And he wonders what he’ll do when he’s dissected all of himself.

He wonders what will be left.

He longs for that next step.

But until then, he’ll keep retracing the steps, walking deserted paths to nowhere.

In hopes that soon they’ll lead him somewhere.

Doctor Who/CSI NY crossover!

Fri, 13 Jul 2007 05:21:32 GMT

Title: Strangers in the Night

Author: Bekah26

Rating: PG for slight naughtiness.

Warning: Some slashiness, as the Doctor knows no bounds

Pairing: Ten/Danny, sort of.

Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC and England, though he is his own man. Danny belongs to CBS and CSI. There is no money made from this, just a feeling of accomplishment.

Summary: There is something to be said at being in the right place and the right time. A Doctor Who/CSI NY expedition.

It started with the worst pick-up line ever.

“Wanna see my spaceship?”

Well, at least the weirdest.

And it didn’t really start like that.

It was after a long day, and night, and then another day at work, and Danny Messer had headed home with every intent of just crashing in his bed and not emerging for at least fourteen hours.

That plan went out the window when there had been a hideous screech that echoed throughout the subway car. There was a shout, a hoot, and a terrible wrenching noise as the car he was in was forcibly separated from the rest of the train. Then silence.

The subway had stopped in the middle of the tunnel, lights flickering off and darkness descending, leaving him and the other five passengers stranded.

He could make out lights ahead on the track, flickering, but they didn’t look like emergency lights; it was a strange and cold blue light and Danny felt a tingle of unease fill him.

Despite what Mac keep telling him, Danny always trusted his gut; he motioned for the other passengers to head in the opposite direction.

Danny got up and had begun to head to the front of the car to investigate, hand casually reaching for his weapon. The partition door then flew open and a figure jumped him, causing him to fall and pressing him back against the floor. He cursed as he felt the back of his coat stick to something wet on the floor.

He brought up his gun faster, but firm hands moved it above his, fully pinning him, and Danny found lips pressed against his own. Male lips.

He froze in shock.

“Keep still; it doesn’t see so well in the dark, but any movement will attract its attention.”

The words were murmured against his lips, and they sent heat shooting throughout him; the body holding him down was male and lean, the accent British, but Danny could clearly see the eyes before him glittering in the poor light. Their mouths were so close together their breaths mingled, and he was filled with strange sensations, emotions alternating between fear and unease and confusion and anger and suspicion and strangely, something like giddiness. He felt breathless under the onslaught, and shifted slightly, feeling something hard poke into his thigh.

“Oh.” He muttered, horrified to feel both a blush rise and the man above him chuckle.

“My sonic screwdriver.” The man whispered.

“Is that what you call it?” Danny replied in a soft snark, and was rewarded with a blinding grin in response.

“Oh, I like you. Now, can you get it out?”

Danny blinked.

“What?” He rasped.

The man sighed. “Humans. That wasn’t innuendo, it really is a screwdriver. And we’ll need it; I’ve rigged the sprinkler to expel gas.”

“Why?” Danny asked, attempting to rise, but froze anew as a large shuffling sound came closer, and he could swear that he felt a dark presence hover closer. He couldn’t make out a substantial form, but it hovered over them in a cloud, pale blue, with tendrils reaching out.

“What is that?” He hissed, eyes watching in disbelief as the thing’s face shifted from humanoid to monstrous.

“A Gelth, one of few that escaped through to this world. It’s rather mad at me.”

“Why?”

“I stopped their race from breaking through and taking over this world by using the bodies of the dead, well, I say me but really…”

Danny pressed his face closer to the man’s.

“Later,” He said, breathing in the other’s exotic scent. “But why gas?”

“It traps them, contains, makes them inert.”

“And you need the screwdriver to start the gas?”

The man nodded.

But Danny wasn’t stupid. Or naïve.

“What then?”

The man coughed, and hummed. “Well, then I was going to light a match.”

Unthinking, Danny grabbed the man’s arms and pulled him down closer, so that they lay eye to eye.

“That will make a large ‘boom’.” He stressed. “That would be bad.”

“But it would stop the Gelth.” The man supplied helpfully.

“If the gas doesn’t get us, the explosion will. We’ll be dead!”

“Most possibly. Would you rather leave the Gelth to kill people, inhabit their corpses, and find a way to conquer your world? Besides, I’ll get us out safely.”

Danny stared at him.

“Who are you?”

“I’m the Doctor. Who are you?”

“Danny Messer.”

“Well Danny Messer, what do you say?” The Doctor wiggled his eyebrows at him. “Ready to light up?”

Danny chocked out a laugh, pressing his face into the Doctor’s shoulder.

“And I should just trust you to cause a major explosion in a New York subway tunnel?” Danny asked, incredulous.

“Yep.” The Doctor blissfully replied. “No one will be hurt. Well, besides us. Ready?”

No one should be that gleeful about certain death.

Danny’s lips quirked.

He leaned forward, reaching down between them and into the Doctor’s pants pocket, retrieving what was a vaguely screwdriver shaped appliance. Meeting the man’s eyes he said: “Do it.”

The Doctor grinned.

Things happened quickly after that.

The screwdriver lit up with a blue light, illuminating them both, and emitting a soft hum.

Gas filled the car.

The Gelth screamed and raged, swiping down at them.

The Doctor pressed his mouth to Danny’s, breathing into him, and the air that filled Danny was clean and pure and addictive. He felt one of the Doctor’s hands move away, presumably to ignite the gas, and Danny fell into the mouth moving against his, sighing as a warm light filled him. He let the light carry him away, falling into it.

And landed hard on the grass of Central Park.

Looking up at the sparkling lights visible through the trees Danny blinked and pushed the Doctor away, who bounded upward with a whoop.

“There! Perfect, oh that was fantastic!” The Doctor danced around and his exuberant nature revived Danny enough to sit up and watch him move.

“Handy little thing, ain’t it?” The Doctor tossed a small curved item to him, and as Danny turned it over he noticed the pattern of flickering lights.

“What is it?”

“What is it?” The Doctor bounced back and kneeled next to Danny, tapping the device in his hands. “This is a modified teleport; got it off a Slitheen, well, she left it behind, but she didn’t need it anymore. It usually only has enough power for one, so I had to get close enough for it to take us both. After a boost, of course.”

Danny stared at this strange man, mind whirling. “You could have set off the gas at any time and yet you stayed to help me?”

“Of course!” The Doctor said.

“Why?”

“It was the right thing to do.”

Danny nodded and stood, wobbling a little but quickly regaining his balance, thanks in part to the Doctor’s hand on his arm. Danny didn’t brush him away.

“I saw you in there. You sent the others away to keep them safe, even though all survival instinct was telling you to run. Even though you were most likely heading into a dangerous situation.” The Doctor was staring intently at him and Danny found that he couldn’t look away from the Doctor’s gaze. “Why?”

He could have answered any way; that it was his job, that Danny’s answer was soft, words that hung in the air between them.

“It was the right thing to do.”

The Doctor smiled, an almost wistful and sad expression. It made Danny ache for some reason.

“I like you. You’re a good man, Danny Messer. You have good instincts and a good heart.” The Doctor’s smile turned wicked. “And a good kisser.”

Danny blushed.

The Doctor turned serious. “Why did you trust me?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know. You had an out; why didn’t you use it? Let me be killed by that thing, or by the gas, or the explosion?” He frowned. “I trusted ya; don’t know why, but I did. I still do. It’s strange; like, I’d follow you, anyplace, anywhere.”

“Excellent! Come with me.”

“What? To where?”

“Where? Just like you said; anywhere!”

Danny snorted, but with humor; he couldn’t help but answer the Doctor’s grin. The Doctor waggled his eyebrows again.

“Wanna see my space ship?”

Danny couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah sure, show me.”

The Doctor smiled and Danny’s gut filled with warmth. Something was happening, something big and important, something that could change everything; but it didn’t matter. The hours at work, the weight of each criminal’s actions, the expectations of his workmates all fell away and Danny let it go.

He reached out a hand towards the Doctor, who grabbed Danny’s hand and pulled him further into Central Park, away from the lights and into the trees, towards what looked to be a blue box; it did occur to Danny that he should be worried, that a strange (and really, he meant weird) man was leading him away from where anyone would see them, but for some strange reason, he trusted the Doctor.

He let the Doctor lead him away.

This got so out of hand!

I planned to do a little drabble, hopefully humorous, about these two universes. It kinda grew on me.

I wanted to have Captain Jack in it; come’ on, he’s awesome! But the Doctor took over and demanded attention (cheeky!) so, I went with it.

I hope all enjoyed it!

Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven chapter 1

Fri, 06 Jul 2007 06:11:51 GMT

Title: Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven

Disclaimer: not mine, never mine, all CBS. I make no profit, 'cept to stir the imagination.

Spoilers: this is a massive CSI and NCIS world crossover, and later I may play elsewhere. All chapters, that are completed anyway, have already been posted at www.fanfiction.net under Bekah26 as author. I'm just now getting round to posting them here, in hopes I get back in the groove.

Warnings: there is violence and some swearing, so

Rated: PG13

Chapter 1

Danny, Aiden Burn decided, had been jumpy all day. And not just jumpy, he acted paranoid, skittish, and kept an eye on his surroundings at all times. She finally had enough of it and told him so at lunch, in her own delicate way.

“Snap outta it, Messer!” She slapped the back of his head. “I’m all for vigilance but you’re driving me crazy!”

He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry Aid. It’s just, I’ve got this feeling, ya know?” And then he looked around again.

“DANNY! Enough! So you got this feeling, ok? Just talk it out with me. What brought this on, girlfriend’s husband catch on?” She smirked and sipped her cola. Danny grinned back.

“Naw, you should now me well enough to know that I don’t get caught.” But then his expression leaked towards serious. “But honestly, I don’t know, its like that early warning you get when approaching a perp, ya know? That tingle that says it could go one-way or the other? That’s what its like.”

Aiden’s frown matched Danny’s. “And you don’t know why?”

Danny shook his head.

Aiden watched him for a minute, studying the look on her friend’s face. The tension she expected, they were in the middle of an open case after all, but there was a shadow hovering over his expression that seemed out of place, making his normally sparkling eyes seem haunted in the lab’s lighting. Finishing her sandwich she slammed her palms on the table-which had the added bonus of startling Danny out of his thoughts-and stood.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do. We go back to work and you keep your head in the game, Messer.” Danny frowned and looked about to protest about his current state of mind. Aiden raised a finger to stop him. “And then we go out tonight and forget about, maybe head to Sullivan’s, maybe to a club so you can hook up, ease your tension. THAT is what’s gonna happen, got it?”

He looked at her and then a smile crept out. “You taken’ lessons from Stella?”

She grinned and winked at him. “Of course! How else do you think she keeps Mac in line?”

They linked arms as they walked out of the break room, grinning at each other, mood forgotten.

“Leather cuffs.”

Easier said then done, Danny sighed and rubbed his nose, lifting his glasses off his face. He had lived too long to know when not to ignore that little sixth sense and it was screaming at him now. But for what reason he couldn’t figure out; there was no one he had pissed off (not even Mac), and the case had closed with no problem. So, he worried, what was it? He was still wondering about when he wandered into the locker room and was just grabbing his stuff when Mac enter, looking solemn.

“Danny,” He said and then Danny knew.

“Yeah Mac?” The words were a hoarse croak; he hadn’t survived three years under this man and hadn’t learned to read his body language.

“I just got word from Miami, Danny. Officer Timothy Speedle is dead.”

“What?” Danny gasped, hands digging into the metal of his locker painfully, the edge biting into his palm; he didn’t feel it.

“He was killed in the line of duty. I’m sorry, I know that you had formed a friendship during the case that brought Caine to New York. I just, thought that it would be better to hear it from me then in rumors.”

Danny’s eyes snapped open. “Why? Why would there be rumors, Mac? How did he die?”

“In an investigation his weapon proved faulty, and he was shot at the scene. At first they believed his gun was dirty, but their ballistics found that the firing pin malfunctioned.”

No, Danny thought, it wasn’t possible. He knew Speed, knew that while neither of them liked guns-hell, Danny preferred to foot it after suspects rather then draw- they both knew that keeping their partners safe was paramount; therefore, they cleaned their guns. But, for this to have happened...His eyes widened. It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t a tragedy. Deliberate, but, deliberate by who? And why? Speed lived a quiet life, one Danny had unmercifully teased him about, so who would have targeted him in this way and why? Out of all of them Speed was the most gentle, caring-

Lord.

“Danny? Danny!”

“What?!” He twisted his hand towards Mac, teeth clenched as realization flooded thorough him. Mac was staring at his hand where it had grabbed hold of the locker’s edge deep enough to bleed.

“Fuck.” Danny pulled it close, closing his body language down, curling in on himself. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t be here right now, not when it was so close, not when he knew what Speed had done but not why.

“Danny let me see,” Mac demanded as he closed in, but Danny was used to this, to being of the defense, and sidled away with ease.

“Its nothing Mac, just a cut. My shifts over and I’m going home; let Aiden know that plans are cancelled, yeah? See ya tomorrow.”

And he was gone, making his escape with practiced ease, fueled with the desire to get out.

He never knew how he got home just that he was there, in his comfort zone, with no comfort in sight. His heart was bursting out of his chest, painfully beating against his ribs like it wanted to escape, and really, Danny couldn’t blame it.

“What the hell happened Tim, that made you do this?”

It was a painful exclamation, shouted rage and pain without outlet, and the words fell down upon him like whip lashes.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Danny whispered as the sobs overtook him where he had crumpled to the floor, fetal position, alone and desolate.

From the corner of his mind he took notice that someone was banging on his door, pounding on it like their life depended on it but he couldn’t move. The pounding continued until he did move, had to move, anything to shut it up. His hands fumbled on the latch and close as he was to it now, each hit made his head swell and explode.

“Stop intruding on my breakdown you asshole!” Danny snarled, wrenching the door back with violence he usually kept contained. All action froze when he was faced with the dark-haired woman on the other side, hair askew, clothes and skin covered with dirt, and hand raised as if to pound again. Blue eyes met brown as they stared at each other, frozen in the tableau before them, until the woman calmly lowered her arm and rested her body against the doorframe.

“Is that anyway to talk to your baby sister?”

One corner of her mouth curled up wearily, her body slowly making its way towards the floor, until finally falling as its owner lost consciousness just as Danny lunged forward.

“Speed!”

Here, I live still! And I had a thought!

Wed, 04 Jul 2007 20:37:58 GMT

Yes, I live still. Amazing, isn't it?
Real life has intruded, so I had to step away and deal with things for a bit, but hopefully, I'm back now and things will be going smoothly.
Hopefully.

I had a crazy plot bunny nibble me lately, and I want to throw the idea out there for everyone to dabble in. So, please, hear me out:

a CSI NY/ Doctor Who crossover!
Have Danny join the Doctor!

It doesn't have to big, or little; it can be any doctor, though there is a mass of love for Nine and Ten, and it can be at any time.
Though, when I see it, I think that the times when Danny would leave would be at the end of season 1, or after his brother, or even after the end of this season.
I guess there can be 'ship involved, it depends on the writer, but I want to toss this idea to the world.

So everyone, go out and play!

Spread the love!

(Speed Image)

Wed, 20 Jun 2007 20:33:42 GMT

(Image)

Finally I have an image for my series Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven fiction, found on www.fanfiction.net
ha, self-promotion!

Here is sketch of Speed's sidhe form, and I hope to get the others up soon. I'm trying to work them in olden clothes and another to modernize them. Sorry that its all taking so long.
I'm just a perfectionist!

Enjoy.
Bekah26

On my way

Sun, 03 Jun 2007 01:40:08 GMT

Yippee!
I've got two CSI NY fics posted so far on fanfiction.net, but I'm still having trouble linking, so that everyone's not hit with the whole thing in one go. Hmm. I may need some help there.

Figuring things out

Sat, 02 Jun 2007 14:00:08 GMT

This is just to say that I'm now a user at Fanfiction.net and that I'll be posting anything and everything under the pen name Bekah26. I thought that's be better until I figure out how to link and cut and all the coll stuff that us newbies haven't learned yet. Thanks for your patience until things even out!

Bekah