riptide_asylum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
riptide_asylum) wrote2009-09-22 10:19 am
riptide_asylum) wrote2009-09-22 10:19 am
"On the Pebbled Shores of Pedro" (Dreamtime, 1985)
Title: On the Pebbled Shores of Pedro
Rating: PG
Summary: Where Cody goes to think.
There's a beach north of Pedro, not as far up as the refinery or the airport, a cove maybe, that Cody goes to when he needs to think. He sits on the pebbly sand and watches the sun set, and misses his grandfather. Misses the way he thinks things might have turned out if he'd lived, if he'd been--
A wave breaks on the beach, rushing up the twilit sand with a reproachful hiss, and Cody cuts that train of thought off at the knees. "The here, the now and the can," the old man used to say, "that's what you build with."
Which isn't helping. The here is far from the Riptide, their home turned cold and empty, and now is all the time Nick's been spending at Peggy's. And Cody has no idea what he can do about it, or even if he should.
Cody closes his eyes, arms resting across his drawn-up knees. More than anything, he wants to hear footsteps right now, quick and sure coming down the beach towards him. He wants to feel Nick's hand drop heavily on his shoulder, his eyes sweet with laughter and love as he folds himself onto the sand next to Cody, keeping him company while the sun goes down. He wants to open his eyes and have everything be right again. Twenty years ago, twenty days ago, he'll take either, just so long as he stops hurting.
Night falls, finding Cody still sitting on the sand, eyes still closed, listening for those footsteps.
Rating: PG
Summary: Where Cody goes to think.
There's a beach north of Pedro, not as far up as the refinery or the airport, a cove maybe, that Cody goes to when he needs to think. He sits on the pebbly sand and watches the sun set, and misses his grandfather. Misses the way he thinks things might have turned out if he'd lived, if he'd been--
A wave breaks on the beach, rushing up the twilit sand with a reproachful hiss, and Cody cuts that train of thought off at the knees. "The here, the now and the can," the old man used to say, "that's what you build with."
Which isn't helping. The here is far from the Riptide, their home turned cold and empty, and now is all the time Nick's been spending at Peggy's. And Cody has no idea what he can do about it, or even if he should.
Cody closes his eyes, arms resting across his drawn-up knees. More than anything, he wants to hear footsteps right now, quick and sure coming down the beach towards him. He wants to feel Nick's hand drop heavily on his shoulder, his eyes sweet with laughter and love as he folds himself onto the sand next to Cody, keeping him company while the sun goes down. He wants to open his eyes and have everything be right again. Twenty years ago, twenty days ago, he'll take either, just so long as he stops hurting.
Night falls, finding Cody still sitting on the sand, eyes still closed, listening for those footsteps.