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summer_of_giles2015-07-31 09:51 am
dragonyphoenix.livejournal.com) wrote in summer_of_giles2015-07-31 09:51 am
Entry tags:
FIC: Sad That You Can't Hear (Giles/Jenny) G
Title: Sad That You Can't Hear
Characters: Giles
Word Count: 517
Note: I hadn't planned another post for this season's Summer of Giles, but I was listening to Cat Steven's How Can I Tell You and some of the lyrics gave me an idea: after Jenny's death, Rupert talks to her, speaking to her as if she were there. This scene would not be the first scene but I came up with the idea on Wednesday and haven't had time to explore it in depth, meaning this is the only scene I've written so far.
Edit (4 Aug 2015): Nominated for the 2015 No Rest for the Wicked Awards
Edit (10 Aug 2015): Nominated for the Sunny D Awards
Edit (2 Jan 2016): Nominated at the Headline Awards in the Twosome of Cuteness category.
Edit (20 Jan 2016): Runner-up in the Twosome of Cuteness category.
‘Sad That You Can’t Hear’ is the epitome of tragic romance. The beautiful writing makes us grieve along with Giles as he mourns his lost Jenny, in a story that brings her vividly to life in so many ways, painfully underlining the gnawing absence at the heart of the story. In canon, we lose Jenny Calendar pretty quickly. This emotional tale reminds us that for Giles, love lasted much longer.
Edit (4 Feb 2016): Nominated at Round 11 of Running With Scissors.
At first, Rupert had seen her everywhere. That had faded with time but he had thought he might have this one final glance, perhaps waiting by the pond? She wasn't there, of course. His gaze dropped to her tombstone. The pale granite glowed as brightly as she ever had. The bronze marker, dull even in the bright sunlight, spelled out her name: Jennifer Calendar.
“I used to know a bloke, Wayne was his name, who'd cheat on his wife and then bring her gifts: jewelry, chocolates, flowers.” Rupert's grip tightened on the plastic enveloping his bouquet. “You deserve.” A long moment passed before he could force out the word. “Roses. You deserve roses but ever since that night I can't bear to look on them.”
He dropped to his knees and laid the flowers before her headstone. “Daisies. Childlike innocence. Far too simple a flower to express all that you were, all that we were together, all that you still mean to me.”
As he stood, Rupert looked away from the grave. “After Wayne's wife had discovered his affairs, he expressed an imaginative variety of excuses, reasons why it wasn't his fault. I fear that, in this, I am again emulating him. There was this candy you see. Cursed. I'm afraid I wasn't a particularly responsible young man.”
With his eyes closed, he could almost see her standing by the tree beyond the pool. “You were so full of life and I, I felt alive as well although now, well, the phrase stick in the mud comes to mind. I feel desiccated, dried up, spent but when I imagine you, I see you at your most vibrant.”
There was no one standing past the pond. That made his confession harder somehow. “Just over a week ago, I spent a night with Joyce. You've never been selfish. I know you'd want me to find comfort although preferably without the drugged reversion to my teenage self. What I'm trying to say is that I know you'd want me to, as the children would say, move on. Not forget you, of course, but …”
He looked down at the daisies. Perhaps, instead, he should have brought rue. “Here's the thing. I can't move on, not while I'm holding onto your memory. I have to let you go. I know that I'm the one who keeps talking with – to – you. I'm the one that …” He pulled off his glasses and let them dangle from his fingers. “I have to accept that you can't hear me.”
He felt as if he should reach out to touch her headstone one last time. He took a step back. “That's why I've come, to say goodbye, that and I'm sorry. You deserved a life.”
He turned away, took two steps, and stopped. He'd never said I love you, but if he turned back now he felt as if he'd be frozen, forever searching for the words. His footsteps fell, silent against the grass, and he didn't look back. His hand brushed away tears. When he brought the fingers to his mouth, he tasted salt.
Characters: Giles
Word Count: 517
Note: I hadn't planned another post for this season's Summer of Giles, but I was listening to Cat Steven's How Can I Tell You and some of the lyrics gave me an idea: after Jenny's death, Rupert talks to her, speaking to her as if she were there. This scene would not be the first scene but I came up with the idea on Wednesday and haven't had time to explore it in depth, meaning this is the only scene I've written so far.
Edit (4 Aug 2015): Nominated for the 2015 No Rest for the Wicked Awards
Edit (10 Aug 2015): Nominated for the Sunny D Awards
Edit (2 Jan 2016): Nominated at the Headline Awards in the Twosome of Cuteness category.
Edit (20 Jan 2016): Runner-up in the Twosome of Cuteness category.
‘Sad That You Can’t Hear’ is the epitome of tragic romance. The beautiful writing makes us grieve along with Giles as he mourns his lost Jenny, in a story that brings her vividly to life in so many ways, painfully underlining the gnawing absence at the heart of the story. In canon, we lose Jenny Calendar pretty quickly. This emotional tale reminds us that for Giles, love lasted much longer.
Edit (4 Feb 2016): Nominated at Round 11 of Running With Scissors.
At first, Rupert had seen her everywhere. That had faded with time but he had thought he might have this one final glance, perhaps waiting by the pond? She wasn't there, of course. His gaze dropped to her tombstone. The pale granite glowed as brightly as she ever had. The bronze marker, dull even in the bright sunlight, spelled out her name: Jennifer Calendar.
“I used to know a bloke, Wayne was his name, who'd cheat on his wife and then bring her gifts: jewelry, chocolates, flowers.” Rupert's grip tightened on the plastic enveloping his bouquet. “You deserve.” A long moment passed before he could force out the word. “Roses. You deserve roses but ever since that night I can't bear to look on them.”
He dropped to his knees and laid the flowers before her headstone. “Daisies. Childlike innocence. Far too simple a flower to express all that you were, all that we were together, all that you still mean to me.”
As he stood, Rupert looked away from the grave. “After Wayne's wife had discovered his affairs, he expressed an imaginative variety of excuses, reasons why it wasn't his fault. I fear that, in this, I am again emulating him. There was this candy you see. Cursed. I'm afraid I wasn't a particularly responsible young man.”
With his eyes closed, he could almost see her standing by the tree beyond the pool. “You were so full of life and I, I felt alive as well although now, well, the phrase stick in the mud comes to mind. I feel desiccated, dried up, spent but when I imagine you, I see you at your most vibrant.”
There was no one standing past the pond. That made his confession harder somehow. “Just over a week ago, I spent a night with Joyce. You've never been selfish. I know you'd want me to find comfort although preferably without the drugged reversion to my teenage self. What I'm trying to say is that I know you'd want me to, as the children would say, move on. Not forget you, of course, but …”
He looked down at the daisies. Perhaps, instead, he should have brought rue. “Here's the thing. I can't move on, not while I'm holding onto your memory. I have to let you go. I know that I'm the one who keeps talking with – to – you. I'm the one that …” He pulled off his glasses and let them dangle from his fingers. “I have to accept that you can't hear me.”
He felt as if he should reach out to touch her headstone one last time. He took a step back. “That's why I've come, to say goodbye, that and I'm sorry. You deserved a life.”
He turned away, took two steps, and stopped. He'd never said I love you, but if he turned back now he felt as if he'd be frozen, forever searching for the words. His footsteps fell, silent against the grass, and he didn't look back. His hand brushed away tears. When he brought the fingers to his mouth, he tasted salt.
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"I feel desiccated, dried up, spent but when I imagine you, I see you at your most vibrant.” Sniff!
“I have to accept that you can't hear me.” Double sniff.
Beautifully done, hon. I for one would love to read more if you ever expand on it.
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I really like that you let me know which lines work well for you. I'll probably do a Buffy rewatch and work out my ideas for this story that way, meaning it'll be a while before I have a full version of this story.
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I'll look forward to more, just as and when your thoughts come together :)
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You are breaking my heart. It's so amazing (in a totally gutwrenching kind of way)).
Jenny really so deserved a life.
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Ow. Wow. Felt this.
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This is all the poignancy of loss in one sentence. Brava!
Gabrielle
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Well done.
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Whoa, that was lovely. You drew such a searing picture of loss, love and denial. Then, at the end, the way he forced himself to say goodbye to all that - stiff upper lip, indeed.
Loved this - He turned away, took two steps, and stopped. He'd never said I love you, but if he turned back now he felt as if he'd be frozen, forever searching for the words. His footsteps fell, silent against the grass, and he didn't look back.
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And I'm particularly glad you like the lines toward the end. I put in extra effort to get those right. It's delightful to hear I succeeded.
Congrats
We are happy to inform you that your story, Sad That You Can't Hear (Giles/Jenny), has been nominated for The Twosome of Cuteness Award in the 2016 Headline Awards, celebrating Anthony Head and all of his characters! The judging and voting will begin on January 21st and the winners will be announced on February 20th. Please let us know if you would prefer not to participate.
Congratulations and Good Luck!!!
Find us at: tonyhead_awards on livejournal or headlineawards on Tumblr
Re: Congrats
*doing happy dance*
Here from buffyversetop5
I love his discussion with her.
RE: Here from buffyversetop5
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