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31_days2013-11-04 01:00 pm
insaneladybug.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2013-11-04 01:00 pm
[November 4th] [The Rockford Files-related] Chronicles of a Friendship, 4
Title: Chronicles of a Friendship, scene 4
Day/Theme: November 4th - Take Back the Night
Series: The Rockford Files (using characters from The Queen of Peru episode)
Character/Pairing: Ginger Townsend, Michael Trevino, mentions of Lou Trevino
Rating: PG-13/T
Continuing the dark mini-arc, showing a bit from Ginger and Mike's points-of-view. And I finally figured out how to fit in another scene that needed to be there, so I'm editing to add it.
"Take back the night" forever makes me think of the pilot for Darkwing Duck, when he battles Taurus Bulba atop the building and proclaims "Darkwing Duck takes back the night!" to which Bulba says, "That may be, but you will never see another morning!" And they both nearly die in the resulting explosion.
By Lucky_Ladybug
Lou’s death had irrevocably affected Ginger. As soon as he had received the news, and had gone to the morgue in an attempt to identify the body burned almost beyond recognition, he had dissolved into hatred and madness.
It was definitely Lou who had been killed in the car crash. The body had still been wearing Lou’s gold bracelet and silver ring when the police had pulled it out of the remains of the car. When Ginger had seen what was left of his only friend, what some monsters had deliberately done to him for some abominable and unforgivable reason, he had vowed then and there to see that everyone responsible paid for what had happened.
Lou was guiltless. He had not deserved any such horrible fate as this. He was gentle and kind, someone so different from Ginger and yet someone who interacted with him flawlessly. Aside from what had happened after Ginger had shot Michael, their arguments had been of no consequence. And even in the case of that more serious rift between them, they had mended it. They cared about each other that much.
Ginger went home, immediately beginning his investigation into the killers. It took days, but he learned what he needed to know.
The house was so large, so empty, with him as the only one in it. It had been something good, something enjoyable and worthwhile when they had both been in it. But without Lou, it haunted Ginger. He spent most of his time away from it, learning about the killers. He had been granted a temporary leave from work, so he was able to focus all of his waking energy on the matter.
In the course of his investigation, Lou and Michael’s parents flew out from New York, grief-stricken and wanting to take their son’s body back with them for burial. Ginger did not like the idea. He had wanted Lou buried here, where he could at least visit the grave. But he knew he had no claim on the body, as Lou would with his since Ginger had no one else. And while he knew he should simply let the parents do as they pleased, he instead appealed in desperation to Michael.
“You live here, not in New York,” he pleaded. “You idolized your brother. Don’t you want him buried here?”
Michael turned away, not wanting to meet his gaze. “I do,” he said, “but I don’t have any right to go against Mom and Dad. They knew him longer than either of us.”
That was the wrong thing to say. “Does that mean they love him more than we do?” Ginger snarled.
Michael flinched. “No,” he cried. “Of course not. Ginger, it’s just . . .”
“Just tradition,” Ginger interrupted. “Just bloody, cursed tradition. Honor thy father and thy mother. What about you? Don’t they even think about you? About how you loved Lou too?”
“Of course they do!” Michael snapped. “In fact . . . well . . .” He wavered. “They asked me to move back to New York.”
Ginger rocked back as though he had been slapped. “What?”
“Well . . . Lou was the only thing keeping me here, and . . .” Michael looked guilty. “I said I’d think about it. You . . . don’t want me to stay, do you, Ginger?”
Then Ginger was the one averting his gaze. “It’s just that you’re the only real link I have left to Lou,” he said, quietly. But then the vulnerability was gone, replaced by his bitterness and pain. “But you aren’t Lou and never could be Lou. It would probably hurt worse for you to be around. You should go back to New York with your parents.”
Michael hesitated. “. . . You could come back too, Ginger. If you wanted.”
“Only if I could be transferred to the New York branch,” Ginger grunted. “And the company might not grant it. Anyway, your parents don’t like me and you and I have tolerated each other at best. I would only be in the way.”
And Michael nodded, just leaving it at that. Even though he had felt some obligation to try to do something for Ginger, he knew Ginger was right. It was better if Ginger stayed behind. He would not be happy in New York, surrounded by Lou’s family and not Lou.
He wondered if Ginger would ever be happy again.
****
Ginger knew the answer to Michael’s query. He would never be happy again, not truly so, as he had been with Lou. And as he crept through the night, a gun in his hand and a knife in his pocket, he vowed that these people would pay for ending such a good man’s life so abruptly.
There they were now, two men on sentry duty outside the old warehouse. He held the rifle level, pointed at them from behind a stack of crates.
“Alright, you devils,” he snarled. They froze, instantly spinning around. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done. Every last one of you!”
They opened fire, making it very easy for Ginger to return the gesture.
In the next moment pandemonium erupted. Inside the warehouse men yelled and shouted. Guns were pointed out the window, aiming wherever he took cover. He fired back, his eyes aflame.
It was in that manner that he fought through their ranks and eventually to their leader.
“You’re the one,” he snarled, his knuckles white as he gripped the rifle. “You killed Lou.”
“You’ll never be able to prove it,” his nemesis replied. “He was a lot like you, though, fighting to the end, I mean.” He sneered. “He really gave my boys a workout. I finally had to hit him over the head to get him into the car.”
That was the last straw. “You let his car roll and crash!” Ginger screamed. “You let him burn to death! Why?!”
Unaffected, the man gave an evil grin as he turned to jump into the water and swim to a yacht anchored offshore. “Why not?”
And Ginger leaped into the water after him. He would not let this creature get away.
Ginger was a lion when he was furious. But even despite all of his fighting and struggling, it wasn’t enough to save him. In the end, he took out Lou’s murderer. And Lou’s murderer took yet another life with him to his watery grave.
****
When Michael heard the late-night news later, describing the attack on a criminal stronghold, somehow he knew Ginger had been involved. He had known Ginger would not sit quietly and wait for the police to find Lou’s murderers. Like a vigilante taking back the night, Ginger had asserted his brand of justice over the villains who had committed an abominable crime—and no matter how unsettled Mike felt around Ginger, he could not blame Ginger’s actions or even say that part of him didn’t think they had got what they had deserved.
There was no mention of Ginger’s fate, but Michael knew it was unlikely he had survived.
Oh well, he thought sadly, maybe at least he and Lou were reunited. That was all he really wanted, to be back with Lou.
And he turned away from the television, back to the dreary funeral arrangements his parents had sent for him to look over. He had been staring at them blankly for over an hour, not really sure what he was supposed to be thinking about them.
No guy should have to bury his own brother. And parents shouldn’t have to bury their kids. This world is all mixed up and wrong.
He frowned. Out of decency, he should take the arrangements to Ginger and see what he thought. Ginger might have some suggestions of his own. He should be allowed to offer his input, after how close he had been to Lou and for how long.
If Ginger was still alive.
Michael picked up the phone and dialed. No answer.
He sighed, slumping back. He would wait a little bit and try again.
As leery as he had been around Ginger, it was weird to think that he might be dead, and right on the hills of Lou’s death. Michael wanted to keep believing that Ginger was alive. They had both been a part of Michael’s life for so long now that it was hard to think of one without the other.
Ginger had said that Michael was his last link to Lou. Michael supposed that he felt somewhat the same way about Ginger. It wasn’t true, of course; their parents and the rest of the family were other links. But Ginger had known Lou the deepest over the past twenty years.
Ginger had always been so fearless, so assertive. He wasn’t much in hand-to-hand combat as far as throwing punches went, but he had some other, dangerously clever and crafty moves. And more than that, it was his cold stares, snapping temper, and familiarity with firearms that frightened Michael.
But the last time Michael had seen him, he had just been so . . . so sad. So heartbroken and sad. And filled with hatred towards the ones who had done this.
Michael wouldn’t have known how to stop Ginger even if he had known where and when he was going. But he felt like he had let Lou down. He could have done that one more thing for his brother, to try to keep his best friend alive, and he had most likely failed.
“I’m sorry, Lou,” he whispered, slumping back into the couch as he ran his hands over his eyes. “I’ve messed everything up again. I’m so sorry. I wish you were here.”
Even though the television was still on, blaring voices, Michael had never felt more alone.
Day/Theme: November 4th - Take Back the Night
Series: The Rockford Files (using characters from The Queen of Peru episode)
Character/Pairing: Ginger Townsend, Michael Trevino, mentions of Lou Trevino
Rating: PG-13/T
Continuing the dark mini-arc, showing a bit from Ginger and Mike's points-of-view. And I finally figured out how to fit in another scene that needed to be there, so I'm editing to add it.
"Take back the night" forever makes me think of the pilot for Darkwing Duck, when he battles Taurus Bulba atop the building and proclaims "Darkwing Duck takes back the night!" to which Bulba says, "That may be, but you will never see another morning!" And they both nearly die in the resulting explosion.
Lou’s death had irrevocably affected Ginger. As soon as he had received the news, and had gone to the morgue in an attempt to identify the body burned almost beyond recognition, he had dissolved into hatred and madness.
It was definitely Lou who had been killed in the car crash. The body had still been wearing Lou’s gold bracelet and silver ring when the police had pulled it out of the remains of the car. When Ginger had seen what was left of his only friend, what some monsters had deliberately done to him for some abominable and unforgivable reason, he had vowed then and there to see that everyone responsible paid for what had happened.
Lou was guiltless. He had not deserved any such horrible fate as this. He was gentle and kind, someone so different from Ginger and yet someone who interacted with him flawlessly. Aside from what had happened after Ginger had shot Michael, their arguments had been of no consequence. And even in the case of that more serious rift between them, they had mended it. They cared about each other that much.
Ginger went home, immediately beginning his investigation into the killers. It took days, but he learned what he needed to know.
The house was so large, so empty, with him as the only one in it. It had been something good, something enjoyable and worthwhile when they had both been in it. But without Lou, it haunted Ginger. He spent most of his time away from it, learning about the killers. He had been granted a temporary leave from work, so he was able to focus all of his waking energy on the matter.
In the course of his investigation, Lou and Michael’s parents flew out from New York, grief-stricken and wanting to take their son’s body back with them for burial. Ginger did not like the idea. He had wanted Lou buried here, where he could at least visit the grave. But he knew he had no claim on the body, as Lou would with his since Ginger had no one else. And while he knew he should simply let the parents do as they pleased, he instead appealed in desperation to Michael.
“You live here, not in New York,” he pleaded. “You idolized your brother. Don’t you want him buried here?”
Michael turned away, not wanting to meet his gaze. “I do,” he said, “but I don’t have any right to go against Mom and Dad. They knew him longer than either of us.”
That was the wrong thing to say. “Does that mean they love him more than we do?” Ginger snarled.
Michael flinched. “No,” he cried. “Of course not. Ginger, it’s just . . .”
“Just tradition,” Ginger interrupted. “Just bloody, cursed tradition. Honor thy father and thy mother. What about you? Don’t they even think about you? About how you loved Lou too?”
“Of course they do!” Michael snapped. “In fact . . . well . . .” He wavered. “They asked me to move back to New York.”
Ginger rocked back as though he had been slapped. “What?”
“Well . . . Lou was the only thing keeping me here, and . . .” Michael looked guilty. “I said I’d think about it. You . . . don’t want me to stay, do you, Ginger?”
Then Ginger was the one averting his gaze. “It’s just that you’re the only real link I have left to Lou,” he said, quietly. But then the vulnerability was gone, replaced by his bitterness and pain. “But you aren’t Lou and never could be Lou. It would probably hurt worse for you to be around. You should go back to New York with your parents.”
Michael hesitated. “. . . You could come back too, Ginger. If you wanted.”
“Only if I could be transferred to the New York branch,” Ginger grunted. “And the company might not grant it. Anyway, your parents don’t like me and you and I have tolerated each other at best. I would only be in the way.”
And Michael nodded, just leaving it at that. Even though he had felt some obligation to try to do something for Ginger, he knew Ginger was right. It was better if Ginger stayed behind. He would not be happy in New York, surrounded by Lou’s family and not Lou.
He wondered if Ginger would ever be happy again.
Ginger knew the answer to Michael’s query. He would never be happy again, not truly so, as he had been with Lou. And as he crept through the night, a gun in his hand and a knife in his pocket, he vowed that these people would pay for ending such a good man’s life so abruptly.
There they were now, two men on sentry duty outside the old warehouse. He held the rifle level, pointed at them from behind a stack of crates.
“Alright, you devils,” he snarled. They froze, instantly spinning around. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done. Every last one of you!”
They opened fire, making it very easy for Ginger to return the gesture.
In the next moment pandemonium erupted. Inside the warehouse men yelled and shouted. Guns were pointed out the window, aiming wherever he took cover. He fired back, his eyes aflame.
It was in that manner that he fought through their ranks and eventually to their leader.
“You’re the one,” he snarled, his knuckles white as he gripped the rifle. “You killed Lou.”
“You’ll never be able to prove it,” his nemesis replied. “He was a lot like you, though, fighting to the end, I mean.” He sneered. “He really gave my boys a workout. I finally had to hit him over the head to get him into the car.”
That was the last straw. “You let his car roll and crash!” Ginger screamed. “You let him burn to death! Why?!”
Unaffected, the man gave an evil grin as he turned to jump into the water and swim to a yacht anchored offshore. “Why not?”
And Ginger leaped into the water after him. He would not let this creature get away.
Ginger was a lion when he was furious. But even despite all of his fighting and struggling, it wasn’t enough to save him. In the end, he took out Lou’s murderer. And Lou’s murderer took yet another life with him to his watery grave.
When Michael heard the late-night news later, describing the attack on a criminal stronghold, somehow he knew Ginger had been involved. He had known Ginger would not sit quietly and wait for the police to find Lou’s murderers. Like a vigilante taking back the night, Ginger had asserted his brand of justice over the villains who had committed an abominable crime—and no matter how unsettled Mike felt around Ginger, he could not blame Ginger’s actions or even say that part of him didn’t think they had got what they had deserved.
There was no mention of Ginger’s fate, but Michael knew it was unlikely he had survived.
Oh well, he thought sadly, maybe at least he and Lou were reunited. That was all he really wanted, to be back with Lou.
And he turned away from the television, back to the dreary funeral arrangements his parents had sent for him to look over. He had been staring at them blankly for over an hour, not really sure what he was supposed to be thinking about them.
No guy should have to bury his own brother. And parents shouldn’t have to bury their kids. This world is all mixed up and wrong.
He frowned. Out of decency, he should take the arrangements to Ginger and see what he thought. Ginger might have some suggestions of his own. He should be allowed to offer his input, after how close he had been to Lou and for how long.
If Ginger was still alive.
Michael picked up the phone and dialed. No answer.
He sighed, slumping back. He would wait a little bit and try again.
As leery as he had been around Ginger, it was weird to think that he might be dead, and right on the hills of Lou’s death. Michael wanted to keep believing that Ginger was alive. They had both been a part of Michael’s life for so long now that it was hard to think of one without the other.
Ginger had said that Michael was his last link to Lou. Michael supposed that he felt somewhat the same way about Ginger. It wasn’t true, of course; their parents and the rest of the family were other links. But Ginger had known Lou the deepest over the past twenty years.
Ginger had always been so fearless, so assertive. He wasn’t much in hand-to-hand combat as far as throwing punches went, but he had some other, dangerously clever and crafty moves. And more than that, it was his cold stares, snapping temper, and familiarity with firearms that frightened Michael.
But the last time Michael had seen him, he had just been so . . . so sad. So heartbroken and sad. And filled with hatred towards the ones who had done this.
Michael wouldn’t have known how to stop Ginger even if he had known where and when he was going. But he felt like he had let Lou down. He could have done that one more thing for his brother, to try to keep his best friend alive, and he had most likely failed.
“I’m sorry, Lou,” he whispered, slumping back into the couch as he ran his hands over his eyes. “I’ve messed everything up again. I’m so sorry. I wish you were here.”
Even though the television was still on, blaring voices, Michael had never felt more alone.