ext_20824 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
insaneladybug.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2012-06-12 11:57 pm
insaneladybug.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-06-12 11:57 pm
[June 12] [Perry Mason] Lux Aeterna, 12
Title: Lux Aeterna, scene 12
Day/Theme: June 12th - There in a far country
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Sergeant Brice, Otto Norden, Lieutenant Tragg, Lieutenant Anderson
Rating: T/PG-13
Takes place after theme #1.
Of all the parallels I've been musing on and drawing between this and LOTR, it didn't dawn on me to think of one of the most obvious: Sergeant Brice being gravely wounded, and the others trying to help him, running parallel with Frodo and Weathertop.
By Lucky_Ladybug
Sergeant Brice knew very little of what was happening the night that he was moved to Central Receiving Hospital. He remembered the shooting and trying to protect Lieutenant Anderson while he went down himself, but that was his last clear memory. The ensuing hours passed in a foggy mixture of pain, unconsciousness, and delirium.
Lieutenant Anderson was alright, wasn’t he? What about Lieutenant Tragg? None of them knew where he was. What if he was dead, as they feared?
What if he, Brice, would die and join him?
He had very few coherent thoughts, but that was foremost among them.
Someone was beside him, he knew that much—someone who was worried for him and trying to care for him. Sometimes other people wandered in or out. Lieutenant Anderson was there now and then.
He could feel the worry and fear in the room, even though he heard hardly any of what was said. Why were they worried? For him? It must be; he was still in excruciating pain.
He passed in and out of consciousness. Once he thought he carried on a short conversation with Lieutenant Anderson before sinking into darkness again. But then he wasn’t sure if he had blacked out at all.
“I’m sorry, Sergeant,” he heard Lieutenant Anderson say without warning. “We’re going to have to move you.”
He was too ill to really comprehend what that would do to him. But when Lieutenant Anderson and Perry Mason tried to lift him off the bed, the pain he had felt before was nothing compared to what shot through him now. He cried out in agony.
Oblivion would have been merciful. Instead he remained semi-conscious while they apologized profusely and tried to calm him and stop the bleeding. He was aware as they carried him out of the building on a stretcher, trying so hard to be careful and gentle but not always succeeding. And he felt every jolt and jostle in the car—his second ride since this had happened.
It was difficult to focus on anything other than the pain. He had never been shot before, and from what he had heard and seen and felt, it was bad. It had never completely stopped bleeding, and even if the wound was otherwise not fatal, that could be more than enough to kill him.
He did vaguely feel the cool cloth on his forehead and hear a woman speaking to him. It was Miss Street, he realized at last. She was with him. She had been the one trying to help him ever since he had been brought to the hideout.
When the car stopped and they tried to move him again, it was too much. But he welcomed the senselessness that followed the searing pain.
****
He was not fully unconscious for long. At least it could not have been long; now he heard the doctors and nurses talking as they worked on him. His eyes fluttered, opening halfway. Now he was lying on a slab, with bright lights all above him. It was probably the operating room. Lieutenant Anderson had said something about going to a hospital.
Someone else was there, standing with crossed arms behind one of the surgeons as he observed what was happening. Brice tried to focus, stunned when he recognized the other man. “Otto Norden?” he gasped.
One of the doctors heard. “He’s not fully under,” he exclaimed. “Get him anesthetized!”
Brice barely listened. He was staring at the patrolman, and continued to do so as the anesthesiologist worked.
Otto Norden. . . . He had not worked at their precinct, but they had known each other. Being Lieutenant Anderson’s friend, Otto had had occasion to come by at times. And sometimes Andy had visited him.
But he was dead.
The anesthesia worked this time. Brice slipped under once more.
****
The meadowy plain was vast, unlike anything in the city. Certainly Brice had not seen such a place in years. But now, somehow, he was standing in the midst of it.
It was daytime; the sun was shining and the wind was rustling through the grass and the wildflowers. Brice stood and stared at all that surrounded him. He was alone here.
And where was here? Where was the hospital? Where were the doctors and nurses? Where was the pain?
A chill ran up his spine. “I’m dead?” he whispered in disbelieving horror.
“No, not dead. Let’s just say that you’ve managed to escape from the pain for a while. Or that Someone had mercy on you and let you come here so you wouldn’t have to feel it.”
Brice jumped a mile. He was not alone after all. As he turned, he found Otto Norden sitting on a large rock. For a moment he gaped, still trying to wrap his mind around these twists and turns.
“But . . . you’re dead,” he said at last. “I remember how broken up Lieutenant Anderson was about it.”
Otto nodded. “True. I’m dead, there’s no getting around that.” He stood, facing Brice. “But you’re not. I’m just here to keep you company. I guess you could call me a guide.”
Brice considered that. It sounded simple enough. He could deal with being escorted by a spirit, at least for a while. And especially when it was someone friendly like Officer Otto Norden.
“Hey,” he realized, “do you know where Lieutenant Tragg is? He isn’t . . . dead, is he?” Brice waited for the answer, both hoping for and dreading it.
Otto looked torn. “. . . I know,” he said at last, “but I’m not allowed to tell you where he is. But I can tell you this,” he hurried on. “He’s not dead. He’s alive and well.”
The weight started to lift from Brice’s heart. Still, he was not completely at peace. “Then . . . there’s some other reason why he hasn’t come back,” he said.
“That’s right. He wants to, and he hates that he hasn’t been able to let anyone know he’s alright. He’ll come back before too much longer.”
Brice nodded. He wanted to believe it, yet it was so much like what he had wanted to hear. Could that be all it was?
“I’m not just imagining all of this, am I?” he asked. “Even what you’re saying?”
Otto gave him a crooked smile. “Well, if you think that, then anything I answer could be part of what you’re imagining.”
“You’re right,” Brice relented. He would just have to accept it for now and pray it was true.
He turned his attention to the peaceful scene around them. “What is this place, if it’s not something I made up?”
Otto pondered on his response. “I guess you could call it an in-between place,” he said. “It’s not Earth, but it’s not Heaven, either. It’s still God’s country, though.”
“A Texan would say you’d have to be talking about their state,” Brice said, amazed that he could joke. He was usually quiet and serious. Maybe this was his way of coping.
Otto chuckled. “Yeah, I guess a Texan would.”
They both sobered at the same time. “You probably know other things we don’t know, don’t you?” Brice asked.
Otto seemed to tense a bit. “Like what?”
“Like if there’s any hope for us. Or if Florence is going to keep hold of the world.” Brice gazed at the vastness of the land. It stretched far beyond what he could see. “I want to believe we really can beat her and get things back to how they’re supposed to be. But sometimes I . . .” He shook his head. “I wonder if we really have a chance against someone like her. She’s been several steps ahead of us all along.”
“And there’s those of us on the other side of the veil keeping several steps ahead of her,” Otto rejoined. “There’s always a chance, Sergeant. There’s always hope. Florence won’t reign forever. If you and the others stay strong, you’ll know what to do.
“There’s always a plan to defeat evil.” Otto leaned back, studying Brice in thoughtfulness for a moment before continuing. “That’s why Hamilton Burger and Paul Drake kept their memories when Vivalene managed to get everyone else under her spell. Or . . . well, at least, that was one reason. Another was that they just didn’t believe in Vivalene’s power. And they disbelieved so strongly that it couldn’t have a hold on them.” He smirked. “Sometimes skepticism is a good thing.”
“I guess so,” Brice said.
Otto looked off at something only he could see. “It’s time for you to go back,” he said then. “You’ll be alright now; you’re out of the worst danger. But there’s still quite a bit of pain ahead. And not all of it is physical.”
Brice stiffened. “Is someone else going to die?”
“I don’t know,” Otto said, and from the regretful and concerned look in his eyes he was clearly telling the truth. “I was just told to tell you that.”
Brice drew a shaking breath. “I’ll try to brace myself.”
Otto gave a wan smile. “Just remember what else I said. And tell Andy Hi.”
Brice started to reply, but everything was gone before he had a chance. Suddenly he was lying somewhere on a bed and the pain was stabbing into him again. He groaned, clutching a handful of sheet. Without a doubt, he was back. Otto hadn’t been kidding about the persistent pain.
“Sergeant?!”
That voice. . . . He knew that voice. He hadn’t heard it for so long. . . . Was it real? Or was he delirious again now that the pain was back?
Weakly he tried to open his eyes. “Lieutenant?” he rasped. “Lieutenant Tragg?”
The older man was standing over him, gripping the metal railing on the bed. When he saw Brice struggling for consciousness he leaned back, smiling in satisfaction and joy. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m here.” He sobered. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been, and that you were hurt because of me.”
Brice stared. “That’s . . . that’s not true,” he said. “Because of Florence.”
Tragg looked surprised by that answer. “If you want to put it like that,” he said then. “Everything goes back to her in the end, doesn’t it.”
It certainly, unfortunately seemed to. But at least, even though there was still a lingering worry over future events, now Brice had more hope than before. And Lieutenant Tragg was back, where he belonged.
Some things were finally falling into place.
Day/Theme: June 12th - There in a far country
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Sergeant Brice, Otto Norden, Lieutenant Tragg, Lieutenant Anderson
Rating: T/PG-13
Takes place after theme #1.
Of all the parallels I've been musing on and drawing between this and LOTR, it didn't dawn on me to think of one of the most obvious: Sergeant Brice being gravely wounded, and the others trying to help him, running parallel with Frodo and Weathertop.
Sergeant Brice knew very little of what was happening the night that he was moved to Central Receiving Hospital. He remembered the shooting and trying to protect Lieutenant Anderson while he went down himself, but that was his last clear memory. The ensuing hours passed in a foggy mixture of pain, unconsciousness, and delirium.
Lieutenant Anderson was alright, wasn’t he? What about Lieutenant Tragg? None of them knew where he was. What if he was dead, as they feared?
What if he, Brice, would die and join him?
He had very few coherent thoughts, but that was foremost among them.
Someone was beside him, he knew that much—someone who was worried for him and trying to care for him. Sometimes other people wandered in or out. Lieutenant Anderson was there now and then.
He could feel the worry and fear in the room, even though he heard hardly any of what was said. Why were they worried? For him? It must be; he was still in excruciating pain.
He passed in and out of consciousness. Once he thought he carried on a short conversation with Lieutenant Anderson before sinking into darkness again. But then he wasn’t sure if he had blacked out at all.
“I’m sorry, Sergeant,” he heard Lieutenant Anderson say without warning. “We’re going to have to move you.”
He was too ill to really comprehend what that would do to him. But when Lieutenant Anderson and Perry Mason tried to lift him off the bed, the pain he had felt before was nothing compared to what shot through him now. He cried out in agony.
Oblivion would have been merciful. Instead he remained semi-conscious while they apologized profusely and tried to calm him and stop the bleeding. He was aware as they carried him out of the building on a stretcher, trying so hard to be careful and gentle but not always succeeding. And he felt every jolt and jostle in the car—his second ride since this had happened.
It was difficult to focus on anything other than the pain. He had never been shot before, and from what he had heard and seen and felt, it was bad. It had never completely stopped bleeding, and even if the wound was otherwise not fatal, that could be more than enough to kill him.
He did vaguely feel the cool cloth on his forehead and hear a woman speaking to him. It was Miss Street, he realized at last. She was with him. She had been the one trying to help him ever since he had been brought to the hideout.
When the car stopped and they tried to move him again, it was too much. But he welcomed the senselessness that followed the searing pain.
He was not fully unconscious for long. At least it could not have been long; now he heard the doctors and nurses talking as they worked on him. His eyes fluttered, opening halfway. Now he was lying on a slab, with bright lights all above him. It was probably the operating room. Lieutenant Anderson had said something about going to a hospital.
Someone else was there, standing with crossed arms behind one of the surgeons as he observed what was happening. Brice tried to focus, stunned when he recognized the other man. “Otto Norden?” he gasped.
One of the doctors heard. “He’s not fully under,” he exclaimed. “Get him anesthetized!”
Brice barely listened. He was staring at the patrolman, and continued to do so as the anesthesiologist worked.
Otto Norden. . . . He had not worked at their precinct, but they had known each other. Being Lieutenant Anderson’s friend, Otto had had occasion to come by at times. And sometimes Andy had visited him.
But he was dead.
The anesthesia worked this time. Brice slipped under once more.
The meadowy plain was vast, unlike anything in the city. Certainly Brice had not seen such a place in years. But now, somehow, he was standing in the midst of it.
It was daytime; the sun was shining and the wind was rustling through the grass and the wildflowers. Brice stood and stared at all that surrounded him. He was alone here.
And where was here? Where was the hospital? Where were the doctors and nurses? Where was the pain?
A chill ran up his spine. “I’m dead?” he whispered in disbelieving horror.
“No, not dead. Let’s just say that you’ve managed to escape from the pain for a while. Or that Someone had mercy on you and let you come here so you wouldn’t have to feel it.”
Brice jumped a mile. He was not alone after all. As he turned, he found Otto Norden sitting on a large rock. For a moment he gaped, still trying to wrap his mind around these twists and turns.
“But . . . you’re dead,” he said at last. “I remember how broken up Lieutenant Anderson was about it.”
Otto nodded. “True. I’m dead, there’s no getting around that.” He stood, facing Brice. “But you’re not. I’m just here to keep you company. I guess you could call me a guide.”
Brice considered that. It sounded simple enough. He could deal with being escorted by a spirit, at least for a while. And especially when it was someone friendly like Officer Otto Norden.
“Hey,” he realized, “do you know where Lieutenant Tragg is? He isn’t . . . dead, is he?” Brice waited for the answer, both hoping for and dreading it.
Otto looked torn. “. . . I know,” he said at last, “but I’m not allowed to tell you where he is. But I can tell you this,” he hurried on. “He’s not dead. He’s alive and well.”
The weight started to lift from Brice’s heart. Still, he was not completely at peace. “Then . . . there’s some other reason why he hasn’t come back,” he said.
“That’s right. He wants to, and he hates that he hasn’t been able to let anyone know he’s alright. He’ll come back before too much longer.”
Brice nodded. He wanted to believe it, yet it was so much like what he had wanted to hear. Could that be all it was?
“I’m not just imagining all of this, am I?” he asked. “Even what you’re saying?”
Otto gave him a crooked smile. “Well, if you think that, then anything I answer could be part of what you’re imagining.”
“You’re right,” Brice relented. He would just have to accept it for now and pray it was true.
He turned his attention to the peaceful scene around them. “What is this place, if it’s not something I made up?”
Otto pondered on his response. “I guess you could call it an in-between place,” he said. “It’s not Earth, but it’s not Heaven, either. It’s still God’s country, though.”
“A Texan would say you’d have to be talking about their state,” Brice said, amazed that he could joke. He was usually quiet and serious. Maybe this was his way of coping.
Otto chuckled. “Yeah, I guess a Texan would.”
They both sobered at the same time. “You probably know other things we don’t know, don’t you?” Brice asked.
Otto seemed to tense a bit. “Like what?”
“Like if there’s any hope for us. Or if Florence is going to keep hold of the world.” Brice gazed at the vastness of the land. It stretched far beyond what he could see. “I want to believe we really can beat her and get things back to how they’re supposed to be. But sometimes I . . .” He shook his head. “I wonder if we really have a chance against someone like her. She’s been several steps ahead of us all along.”
“And there’s those of us on the other side of the veil keeping several steps ahead of her,” Otto rejoined. “There’s always a chance, Sergeant. There’s always hope. Florence won’t reign forever. If you and the others stay strong, you’ll know what to do.
“There’s always a plan to defeat evil.” Otto leaned back, studying Brice in thoughtfulness for a moment before continuing. “That’s why Hamilton Burger and Paul Drake kept their memories when Vivalene managed to get everyone else under her spell. Or . . . well, at least, that was one reason. Another was that they just didn’t believe in Vivalene’s power. And they disbelieved so strongly that it couldn’t have a hold on them.” He smirked. “Sometimes skepticism is a good thing.”
“I guess so,” Brice said.
Otto looked off at something only he could see. “It’s time for you to go back,” he said then. “You’ll be alright now; you’re out of the worst danger. But there’s still quite a bit of pain ahead. And not all of it is physical.”
Brice stiffened. “Is someone else going to die?”
“I don’t know,” Otto said, and from the regretful and concerned look in his eyes he was clearly telling the truth. “I was just told to tell you that.”
Brice drew a shaking breath. “I’ll try to brace myself.”
Otto gave a wan smile. “Just remember what else I said. And tell Andy Hi.”
Brice started to reply, but everything was gone before he had a chance. Suddenly he was lying somewhere on a bed and the pain was stabbing into him again. He groaned, clutching a handful of sheet. Without a doubt, he was back. Otto hadn’t been kidding about the persistent pain.
“Sergeant?!”
That voice. . . . He knew that voice. He hadn’t heard it for so long. . . . Was it real? Or was he delirious again now that the pain was back?
Weakly he tried to open his eyes. “Lieutenant?” he rasped. “Lieutenant Tragg?”
The older man was standing over him, gripping the metal railing on the bed. When he saw Brice struggling for consciousness he leaned back, smiling in satisfaction and joy. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m here.” He sobered. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been, and that you were hurt because of me.”
Brice stared. “That’s . . . that’s not true,” he said. “Because of Florence.”
Tragg looked surprised by that answer. “If you want to put it like that,” he said then. “Everything goes back to her in the end, doesn’t it.”
It certainly, unfortunately seemed to. But at least, even though there was still a lingering worry over future events, now Brice had more hope than before. And Lieutenant Tragg was back, where he belonged.
Some things were finally falling into place.