ext_20824 (
insaneladybug.livejournal.com) wrote in
31_days2012-12-04 05:00 pm
[December 4th] [The Wild Wild West-related] Watching Over Her
Title: Watching Over Her
Day/Theme: December 4th - Rejoice in what I carry in my heart
Series: The Wild Wild West (based on The Night of the Torture Chamber)
Character/Pairing: Durand, Miss Piecemeal friendship
Rating: K+/PG
An insistent headcanon idea that would not be silent. Other drabbles in the same series may follow.
By Lucky_Ladybug
She never expected anything different.
He knew that. They both did.
But even as Professor Bolt’s thugs seized her, preparing to throw her into the wine press for the culmination of her last several failures, his heart twisted in regret.
The men were rough as they took hold of her, jerking her, forcing her hair to come undone and tumble down her back. He stepped in then, ordering them to stop, to allow her a bit of dignity. They glowered hatefully, but obeyed. They had little choice; he was above them in authority and rank.
She looked to him, grateful. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
He nodded.
They exchanged one last, lingering glance—hers, of resolution and resignation, his, of sorrow. He wanted to stop this madness, but he did not know how. They had long ago gotten in far too deep; they would only both be killed if he tried. And her gaze also pleaded for him not to do anything foolish.
He knew of how resourceful Jim West and Artemus Gordon were. He had been pleased to capture them, for more reasons than one. Perhaps they could do what he could not, and free her from her fate. Of course, if they escaped he would have to try to re-capture them, but maybe he could do what he could to allow her, at least, to slip through their fingers. With West and Gordon caught, Professor Bolt surely wouldn’t mind that much if she got away.
West and Gordon did free her, much to his relief, but his attempt to re-capture the Secret Service agents failed miserably. However, even as he slumped back in unconsciousness from West’s harsh punch, he had to wonder if even Professor Bolt could stand against them. Maybe Bolt had met his Waterloo at last. And maybe this defeat would not mean death for his security guard, as it would if Bolt triumphed.
Jail might be, as she had decided, a relief.
****
They saw each other again as they were being arrested.
“Are you alright?” she asked. “You still look dazed from when Mr. West struck you.”
“I’m fine,” he replied. “And you?”
“I’m alive,” she smiled. “I don’t want to go to prison, but it’s better than being dead. And it is what I expected would happen if Mr. West and Mr. Gordon were to win.”
“I didn’t think they would,” he said. “But after Professor Bolt ordered your execution, I hoped they would save you, at least.” He clenched a fist. “I’m sorry I didn’t save you myself.”
“In your own way, you arranged it.” She leaned in, kissing him on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”
“And you.” He hesitated. “We’ll see each other at the court trials. If we’re ever turned loose upon society in the future, I’ll look for you.”
“I hope you will.” With a last smile, she turned and left with the police officer.
He looked after her, lost in thought as he followed.
Day/Theme: December 4th - Rejoice in what I carry in my heart
Series: The Wild Wild West (based on The Night of the Torture Chamber)
Character/Pairing: Durand, Miss Piecemeal friendship
Rating: K+/PG
An insistent headcanon idea that would not be silent. Other drabbles in the same series may follow.
She never expected anything different.
He knew that. They both did.
But even as Professor Bolt’s thugs seized her, preparing to throw her into the wine press for the culmination of her last several failures, his heart twisted in regret.
The men were rough as they took hold of her, jerking her, forcing her hair to come undone and tumble down her back. He stepped in then, ordering them to stop, to allow her a bit of dignity. They glowered hatefully, but obeyed. They had little choice; he was above them in authority and rank.
She looked to him, grateful. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
He nodded.
They exchanged one last, lingering glance—hers, of resolution and resignation, his, of sorrow. He wanted to stop this madness, but he did not know how. They had long ago gotten in far too deep; they would only both be killed if he tried. And her gaze also pleaded for him not to do anything foolish.
He knew of how resourceful Jim West and Artemus Gordon were. He had been pleased to capture them, for more reasons than one. Perhaps they could do what he could not, and free her from her fate. Of course, if they escaped he would have to try to re-capture them, but maybe he could do what he could to allow her, at least, to slip through their fingers. With West and Gordon caught, Professor Bolt surely wouldn’t mind that much if she got away.
West and Gordon did free her, much to his relief, but his attempt to re-capture the Secret Service agents failed miserably. However, even as he slumped back in unconsciousness from West’s harsh punch, he had to wonder if even Professor Bolt could stand against them. Maybe Bolt had met his Waterloo at last. And maybe this defeat would not mean death for his security guard, as it would if Bolt triumphed.
Jail might be, as she had decided, a relief.
They saw each other again as they were being arrested.
“Are you alright?” she asked. “You still look dazed from when Mr. West struck you.”
“I’m fine,” he replied. “And you?”
“I’m alive,” she smiled. “I don’t want to go to prison, but it’s better than being dead. And it is what I expected would happen if Mr. West and Mr. Gordon were to win.”
“I didn’t think they would,” he said. “But after Professor Bolt ordered your execution, I hoped they would save you, at least.” He clenched a fist. “I’m sorry I didn’t save you myself.”
“In your own way, you arranged it.” She leaned in, kissing him on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”
“And you.” He hesitated. “We’ll see each other at the court trials. If we’re ever turned loose upon society in the future, I’ll look for you.”
“I hope you will.” With a last smile, she turned and left with the police officer.
He looked after her, lost in thought as he followed.
