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anythingbutgreyThis is a fic from the Doomed Ship Ficathon. Reposting fest continues~
Loved Large Enough to Want to Shrink
Supernatural. Jo, Dean/Jo, post-Lazarus Rising (4x01)
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aaronlisa at the Doomed Ship Ficathon. 524 words.
When Dean comes back to life, Jo is burning a pile of bones in San Antonio.
When Dean comes back to life, Jo is burning a pile of bones in San Antonio. She doesn't find out about the breath in his lungs until she gets home again, many days later. She walks in the door and Ellen stands from her spot at the table and stares. Jo freezes, and the too-familiar rush of creeping fear crawls through her skin. She tries not to show it. Jo has long since developed the thickest skin she can.
"Who was it?" she asks. She runs through her memory of her closet. Hunters don't really have formal dress codes for funerals, since no one really owns nice clothes and funerals are events as common as spring breezes. But Jo does think she has a clean black shirt that could pass for something respectable. Jo's not as hard as she should be.
Ellen shakes her head. "It's Dean."
Jo feels like she's falling even though she hasn't moved. That's a name Jo has been swallowing back for months. She can't speak it, tries not to think it, does not imagine his hands against her skin in the night.
"What about him?" she whispers, the words choking her as she tries to spit them out. Dean feels like a plastic bag tossed over her head that she can't get out of. She can't breathe. Her mother knows better than to mention it. Or, she did, before today.
"He's alive," Ellen says, and a slow, wide smile spreads across her face. Jo stares. It's not a sight she's used to. And Jo's heart, her heart, it pounds so hard she can't hear anything else, like it has turned radioactive, like it could melt her or turn her body against her or make her crumble to the ground.
"This is a fucked up joke you're playing, mom," she says, or at least tries to say.
Ellen gestures toward the cell phone resting on the counter. "Bobby called. It's true. You want me to call him back? You can probably talk to Dean, I think he's with him --"
"No," Jo says, and her voice sounds outside of her because inside there is a voice screaming yes yes yes, that wants to reach out, grab the phone, call Dean, find Dean, confess everything, never leave his side again, but that's not the way, that's not her way, that's not what a hunter should do or live. She has been to enough funerals. She doesn't need a repeat of Dean's with even more memories burning in her. The last time she watched him buried in the ground was bad enough. Jo didn't speak for days. She can't do it again. She won't survive it again.
"I'm sure I'll catch up with him sometime," she says. When she turns away, she winces at the sharpness of her mother's stare, the sensation of being watched that presses against her spine. When she turns the corner and her mother can no longer look after, Jo feels something inside of her begin to snap apart like the crackle of a gunshot, but she keeps walking. This is what Jo does to stay alive.
Loved Large Enough to Want to Shrink
Supernatural. Jo, Dean/Jo, post-Lazarus Rising (4x01)
For
aaronlisa at the Doomed Ship Ficathon. 524 words.When Dean comes back to life, Jo is burning a pile of bones in San Antonio.
When Dean comes back to life, Jo is burning a pile of bones in San Antonio. She doesn't find out about the breath in his lungs until she gets home again, many days later. She walks in the door and Ellen stands from her spot at the table and stares. Jo freezes, and the too-familiar rush of creeping fear crawls through her skin. She tries not to show it. Jo has long since developed the thickest skin she can.
"Who was it?" she asks. She runs through her memory of her closet. Hunters don't really have formal dress codes for funerals, since no one really owns nice clothes and funerals are events as common as spring breezes. But Jo does think she has a clean black shirt that could pass for something respectable. Jo's not as hard as she should be.
Ellen shakes her head. "It's Dean."
Jo feels like she's falling even though she hasn't moved. That's a name Jo has been swallowing back for months. She can't speak it, tries not to think it, does not imagine his hands against her skin in the night.
"What about him?" she whispers, the words choking her as she tries to spit them out. Dean feels like a plastic bag tossed over her head that she can't get out of. She can't breathe. Her mother knows better than to mention it. Or, she did, before today.
"He's alive," Ellen says, and a slow, wide smile spreads across her face. Jo stares. It's not a sight she's used to. And Jo's heart, her heart, it pounds so hard she can't hear anything else, like it has turned radioactive, like it could melt her or turn her body against her or make her crumble to the ground.
"This is a fucked up joke you're playing, mom," she says, or at least tries to say.
Ellen gestures toward the cell phone resting on the counter. "Bobby called. It's true. You want me to call him back? You can probably talk to Dean, I think he's with him --"
"No," Jo says, and her voice sounds outside of her because inside there is a voice screaming yes yes yes, that wants to reach out, grab the phone, call Dean, find Dean, confess everything, never leave his side again, but that's not the way, that's not her way, that's not what a hunter should do or live. She has been to enough funerals. She doesn't need a repeat of Dean's with even more memories burning in her. The last time she watched him buried in the ground was bad enough. Jo didn't speak for days. She can't do it again. She won't survive it again.
"I'm sure I'll catch up with him sometime," she says. When she turns away, she winces at the sharpness of her mother's stare, the sensation of being watched that presses against her spine. When she turns the corner and her mother can no longer look after, Jo feels something inside of her begin to snap apart like the crackle of a gunshot, but she keeps walking. This is what Jo does to stay alive.
