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Fic: There And Gone (Part 2/2, Pete/Patrick for the pxp_flashbang)
Continued from Part One
Epilogue
Patrick's drafting his resignation letter. He does this a few times a day. It calms him. He hasn't gotten to the point of printing it out and submitting it yet, but that's just because he doesn't know what he'll do after he leaves his job. He will leave, just as soon as he figures that part out.
He's down to the yours sincerely sign off when his phone trills. He reaches for the receiver and mutters a droll greeting.
"Is this Patrick Stump?" The perky female voice at the other end of the line asks.
"This is he." Patrick reports, stabbing his name into the keyboard.
"This is Penny from United Airlines, I'm calling about your lost luggage. We have your suitcase here from your recent flight from Russia?"
Patrick chokes on his own spit at the word 'Russia'. "I'm sorry?" He hasn't left the country in years.
Penny sighs, sounding put out. "You reported via email that your suitcase was misplaced? Well we've located it, and we have it here at Dulles International. You can come and pick it up, or we can have it delivered to you for a nominal charge."
Patrick's fingers are frozen on the keyboard and he nearly drops the phone. "My flight from Russia?" He stammers.
"Yes, you were on the UA964 service from Moscow to Washington three days ago. Your suitcase wasn't. It's arrived on a later service and we have it here for you now." Penny is starting to slow her speech like Patrick is special needs. Patrick is feeling pretty special needs right about now because what the fuck?
"I. Um. I'll come by and collect it then?" He utters haltingly, mind still spinning around the word Russia. His hands are shaking a little and his heart is pounding so hard it feels like his ribcage is rattling.
"Just look for the United Airlines desk at Concourse C. Have a nice day."
Patrick sits frozen for a long time, gripping the phone to his ear in a trembling hand and staring into space. Without any real thought, he takes a breath and presses 'print'. He signs the document and leaves it on his desk, striding out of the office. By the time he gets down the elevator and onto the ground floor, he's nearly running.
He flags down a taxi and goes straight to Dulles International. He's doing his level best not to think about anything and mostly succeeding.
He steps up to the United Airlines desk, drumming his fingers on the counter until he gets served by a bored, business-like woman with a hard face and too-bright lipstick.
The suitcase, when she hands it over, is fairly non-descript, black and medium sized, only slightly battered. Patrick nods like he recognises it even though he's never laid eyes on it. He fills out the form the woman behind the counter pushes at him and carries the suitcase to a bench outside.
He's not sure what he's expecting to find inside it, a bomb? A circus midget? He unzips the case and opens it, pawing through the contents to find everything you'd expect a traveller to pack: clothes, toiletries, shoes. It doesn't look like a suitcase for a trip to Russia, however. It's full of warm weather gear - Hawaiian shirts, cargo shorts, swim trunks, flip flops, sunscreen. Sitting at the top of the case is a Lonely Planet guide to Jamaica. Patrick lifts it out of the case, staring at the book in his hand, puzzled.
A piece of card flutters from between the pages. He catches it clumsily before it hits the floor, turning it in his hands. It's a postcard, showing an idyllic beach scene, the words "Wish you were here" scrawled across the sky. When he turns it over there's the name and location of the photographed beach printed up in the corner. The area to write a message and address is blank.
Patrick stares at the postcard until his eyes start to defocus. His brain scrambles to put the pieces together. He knows what he wants it to mean, but is that what it means?
He opens the Lonely Planet book to put the postcard back inside. The pages fall open easily to a centre page, marked by an unusual bookmark. He tugs the object from between the pages, barely able to process what it is.
It's a small pink drink umbrella.
All Patrick's breath rushes out between his teeth and he closes his eyes. Blood thrums through his body in a rush of relief and a sentiment he hasn't felt in far too long: hope. He presses the pink drink umbrella back between the pages of the book with infinite care, before putting it back into the case and zipping it closed.
He picks up the suitcase and approaches the counter again.
"I'd like to buy a one way ticket to Jamaica."
~end
The Bagman's Gambit - The Decemberists
On the lam from the law
on the steps of the capitol
you shot a plainclothes cop on the ten o'clock
and I saw momentarily
they flashed a photograph, it couldn't be you
you'd been abused so horribly
but you were there in some anonymous room
and I recall that fall
I was working for the government
and in a bathroom stall off the National Mall
how we kissed so sweetly
how could I refuse a favor or two
for a tryst in the greenery
I gave you documents and microfilm, too
And from my ten floor tenement
where once our bodies lay
how I long to hear you say
no, they'll never catch me now
no, they'll never catch me
no, they cannot catch me now
we will escape somehow
somehow
It was late one night
I was awoken by the telephone
I heard a strangled cry on the end of the line
purloined in Petrograd
they were suspicious of where your loyalties lay
so I paid off a bureaucrat
to convince your captors they're to secret you away
And at the gate of the embassy
our hands met through the bars
as your whisper stilled my heart
no, they'll never catch me now
no, they'll never catch me
no, they cannot catch me now
we will escape somehow
somehow
And I dreamt one night
you were there in force
head held high
in uniform
It was ten years on
when you resurfaced in a motorcar
with the wave of an arm
you were there and gone
Epilogue
Patrick's drafting his resignation letter. He does this a few times a day. It calms him. He hasn't gotten to the point of printing it out and submitting it yet, but that's just because he doesn't know what he'll do after he leaves his job. He will leave, just as soon as he figures that part out.
He's down to the yours sincerely sign off when his phone trills. He reaches for the receiver and mutters a droll greeting.
"Is this Patrick Stump?" The perky female voice at the other end of the line asks.
"This is he." Patrick reports, stabbing his name into the keyboard.
"This is Penny from United Airlines, I'm calling about your lost luggage. We have your suitcase here from your recent flight from Russia?"
Patrick chokes on his own spit at the word 'Russia'. "I'm sorry?" He hasn't left the country in years.
Penny sighs, sounding put out. "You reported via email that your suitcase was misplaced? Well we've located it, and we have it here at Dulles International. You can come and pick it up, or we can have it delivered to you for a nominal charge."
Patrick's fingers are frozen on the keyboard and he nearly drops the phone. "My flight from Russia?" He stammers.
"Yes, you were on the UA964 service from Moscow to Washington three days ago. Your suitcase wasn't. It's arrived on a later service and we have it here for you now." Penny is starting to slow her speech like Patrick is special needs. Patrick is feeling pretty special needs right about now because what the fuck?
"I. Um. I'll come by and collect it then?" He utters haltingly, mind still spinning around the word Russia. His hands are shaking a little and his heart is pounding so hard it feels like his ribcage is rattling.
"Just look for the United Airlines desk at Concourse C. Have a nice day."
Patrick sits frozen for a long time, gripping the phone to his ear in a trembling hand and staring into space. Without any real thought, he takes a breath and presses 'print'. He signs the document and leaves it on his desk, striding out of the office. By the time he gets down the elevator and onto the ground floor, he's nearly running.
He flags down a taxi and goes straight to Dulles International. He's doing his level best not to think about anything and mostly succeeding.
He steps up to the United Airlines desk, drumming his fingers on the counter until he gets served by a bored, business-like woman with a hard face and too-bright lipstick.
The suitcase, when she hands it over, is fairly non-descript, black and medium sized, only slightly battered. Patrick nods like he recognises it even though he's never laid eyes on it. He fills out the form the woman behind the counter pushes at him and carries the suitcase to a bench outside.
He's not sure what he's expecting to find inside it, a bomb? A circus midget? He unzips the case and opens it, pawing through the contents to find everything you'd expect a traveller to pack: clothes, toiletries, shoes. It doesn't look like a suitcase for a trip to Russia, however. It's full of warm weather gear - Hawaiian shirts, cargo shorts, swim trunks, flip flops, sunscreen. Sitting at the top of the case is a Lonely Planet guide to Jamaica. Patrick lifts it out of the case, staring at the book in his hand, puzzled.
A piece of card flutters from between the pages. He catches it clumsily before it hits the floor, turning it in his hands. It's a postcard, showing an idyllic beach scene, the words "Wish you were here" scrawled across the sky. When he turns it over there's the name and location of the photographed beach printed up in the corner. The area to write a message and address is blank.
Patrick stares at the postcard until his eyes start to defocus. His brain scrambles to put the pieces together. He knows what he wants it to mean, but is that what it means?
He opens the Lonely Planet book to put the postcard back inside. The pages fall open easily to a centre page, marked by an unusual bookmark. He tugs the object from between the pages, barely able to process what it is.
It's a small pink drink umbrella.
All Patrick's breath rushes out between his teeth and he closes his eyes. Blood thrums through his body in a rush of relief and a sentiment he hasn't felt in far too long: hope. He presses the pink drink umbrella back between the pages of the book with infinite care, before putting it back into the case and zipping it closed.
He picks up the suitcase and approaches the counter again.
"I'd like to buy a one way ticket to Jamaica."
~end
The Bagman's Gambit - The Decemberists
On the lam from the law
on the steps of the capitol
you shot a plainclothes cop on the ten o'clock
and I saw momentarily
they flashed a photograph, it couldn't be you
you'd been abused so horribly
but you were there in some anonymous room
and I recall that fall
I was working for the government
and in a bathroom stall off the National Mall
how we kissed so sweetly
how could I refuse a favor or two
for a tryst in the greenery
I gave you documents and microfilm, too
And from my ten floor tenement
where once our bodies lay
how I long to hear you say
no, they'll never catch me now
no, they'll never catch me
no, they cannot catch me now
we will escape somehow
somehow
It was late one night
I was awoken by the telephone
I heard a strangled cry on the end of the line
purloined in Petrograd
they were suspicious of where your loyalties lay
so I paid off a bureaucrat
to convince your captors they're to secret you away
And at the gate of the embassy
our hands met through the bars
as your whisper stilled my heart
no, they'll never catch me now
no, they'll never catch me
no, they cannot catch me now
we will escape somehow
somehow
And I dreamt one night
you were there in force
head held high
in uniform
It was ten years on
when you resurfaced in a motorcar
with the wave of an arm
you were there and gone
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This is so many sorts of wonderful. I think my brain is broken.
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pee ess. I finally finished my fic that I dedicated to you. It's in my journal when you have time! LOVE YOU FOREVER <333333
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P.S. Oh goody. I have to go check that out!
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Loved this whole thing and I'm not really even into government type fics, they tend to bore me, but this one was just great <3
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Thanks so sincerely for this wonderful feedback. I'm really chuffed you liked it and I hope you go out and find more Decemberists stuff to love and enjoy. <3
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I'm so glad you liked the continuation of the story and the epilogue in particular. I just had to change it from the song, I couldn't handle it ending badly.
<3333
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And you totally got me into The Decemberists. I fell in love with the lyrics, checked out a few of their songs, and then I fangirled for awhile. <3
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I am so glad to hear that! Because it took a LOT longer to get out than it should have. I'm stoked you liked it! And YES! \o/ I am incredibly pleased you found the Decemberists through this. They are a fantastic band and Colin Meloy writes so many songs that make spectacular fic fodder. <3 Thanks so much bb.
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Loved it, babe. So full of grey areas and despair. Wonderful.
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So very glad you liked it. It's weird for me to be writing something that is not fluff, so I'm extra glad it worked for you, even with all the sad. <3
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This is gorgeous. I love the whole world, and I love how intense you can make lovers. beautiful darling. x
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why is pete speaking russian so fucking hot?
anyway, the porn is glorious but the story, it fol.lows the song so well and its so heart breaking but then the big romantic shawshank ending with the going to the islands to be IN LOVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE AND HAVE SEX ON THE BEACH.
bad pete for getting patrick in trouble but YAY LOVE.
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I kind of love the idea of Pete speaking russian.
Yes! You liked the Shawshank Redemption ending where I changed the song because I can't handle the sads! They are going to go live in a bungalow owned by someone with an unpronouncable name! And smile and be damp in their swimsuits. It will be awesome.
YAY LOVE. ♥
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Late response is late!
Re: Late response is late!
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seriously, this is ah-maaaaaaazing!! i got here because someone recced your mcr fic, then i discovered the rest of your fic, and then i read this even though i don't really care for fob, but YOU MADE ME CARE. and i LOVE you for it!
/end ramble. just wanted to let you know that you write really really really really awesome fic. :D
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Thank you so much for commenting and I'm chuffed someone recced me to you. I'm so happy I made you care about Pete and Patrick! It's such an excellent song, I've been dying to write a fic based on it forever. Thanks so much for your totally not-creepy comment. <3
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i fucking loved it. seriously, it's AMAZING!!!!
i mean, i came mostly to read your MCR fic, but then i saw this, said what the hell, i might as well read it, and now I'm so happy i didbowrinbpweironb
it's so perfect and just eoevbgpiirdj
i ave no words. my heart was racing, and i loved every fucking second of it.
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