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Fic: I remember Mary
Title: I remember Mary
Author: Angel
E-mail: valarltd@hotmail.com
URL: http://www.geocities.com/lady_aethelynde
Rating: PG
Summary: A wake for Mary-Sue
Type: humor
Archive: whatever, sure
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. Not Apollo and Starbuck from "Battlestar Galactica" Not Luke, Han, Obi-Wan, Maul, Anakin or Sidious from Star Wars. Not Spock, McCoy or Data from "Star Trek." Not Spike and Xander from "Buffy". Not Harry and Ron from Harry Potter. Not Jim and Blair from "The Sentinel." Not Henry Jones and Marcus Brody from the Indiana Jones series. Not even Jack Cherbourg from Ken Follett's Pillars of the Earth.
Warnings: Maybe implied comfort slash. Character death (offscreen, before the fic), music and booze.
Feedback: It makes the plotbunnies breed.
The wake was in full swing when the Colonial Warrior walked in. He took in the fact that it looked like Slash Night at the Tavern Outside of Time before seating himself at the end of the bar and ordering ambrosia.
"Apollo, I'm sorry." A light gloved hand came to rest on his arm. "She was a true hero." The Jedi's blue eyes were solemn and sad.
"Thank you, Luke. I know you loved her too."
"I did. She was so beautiful, with all her red hair"
"I beg your pardon, Jedi Skywalker, but my memory banks clearly indicate her hair was gold of a shade identical to my eyes," the android at a nearby table informed them.
"Or mine," a red and black tattooed zabrak snarled.
"No, it was black as the space between stars." The Vulcan ignored the stares as he waxed poetic.
"You're imagining things, mate. It was brown. Like good whiskey or a solid stake." The bleached vampire returned to his bloody mary.
"And the best star-pilot in the galaxy," Luke continued doggedly, ignoring the interruptions.
Apollo nodded. "She outflew me in my own viper."
"She took the Enterprise through many highly unorthodox maneuvers, yet always managed to bring it through safely," said Spock.
"She was also most adept at rewiring the holodeck when it went awry," added Data.
"Little minx stole my Sith Interceptor, and had us halfway across the galaxy before I woke up one evening."
"She hotwired my car," said the vampire. "I wake up two states away, and she tells me she's just rescued me from an angry mob."
"Not making angry mobs like they should, then," added yet another voice with a distinctly more northern cast than Spike's London tones. "But she was quite brilliant." The academic polished his glasses and resumed making notes in his diary.
"Sure, but the title of best star-pilot is mine. Obi-wan says so." The young man, barely twenty, stood up and up and up. "And don't you forget it, son." Anakin sat back down, smoothing his robes.
"How she attracted you away from Mother, I'll never understand," Luke said.
"Luke, she is your mother."
"Oh, right. Get a new bloody line already," Spike grumbled. "What, is everyone related? Next thing you know, I'll be your uncle's second bloody cousin."
"Sit. Both of you!" snapped a young wizard, about Anakin's age, brandishing his wand.
"Or what, Potter, you'll turn us into frogs?" Anakin turned up his nose at the wand.
"Any time, any place, saber boy. When the one true love of a wizard's life dies, he doesn't take insults to her memory lightly. I'll make her come back and haunt you!" Harry's green eyes blazed behind his glasses.
"Most illogical," Spock commented as Henry Jones soothed the ruffled young hotheads.
The Marine in full dress uniform picked up his drink. "To the best damn woman in the multiverse. To the one we all love. Mary Sue, Rest in Peace!"
Every man in the room lifted his glass and drank, Rick Simon's toast before throwing their glasses into the fireplace. The bartender winced, but said nothing.
"Another round," said the young man with the curly dark hair. "I'm buying." When everyone had a new glass, Blair stood up. "There is a saying among the Yunoshi tribe of the Amazon, May the beauty of her life continue in our actions. To Mary Sue."
Again the musical crash of glasses in the fireplace left the barkeep wincing. Things like this could go all night or until the glassware ran out. She quietly passed a fiddle to the young jongleur in the corner. Jack Cherbourg picked it up and started a lay of lament.
Henry, in fair voice, joined him, as did Harry, who'd learned the words on holiday with Hermione, and Data who pulled them out of old memory banks.
Distracted from the breakage, the men gathered around to honor their beloved in song.
Somewhere around the second verse of "Daisy a day," a new arrival showed up.
"Hullo Harry. Ready to go home? I've got the car." Ron Weasley looked about at the motley collection of mourners. "Thoroughly sozzled, you are, Potter. Let's go." He heaved the young wizard out of his chair and hauled him out the door. "Don't worry, gents, I'll have him right as rain."
They finished the song and went into "Will ye no come back again?" before the shimmer of a transporter materialized a dark-haired man in blue.
"Spock, time to go." McCoy was patient and his face held a sad understanding. The Vulcan went to him and they beamed out.
A blond man in a suit and tie, came in. He had a drink with his brother before steering Rick out the door.
Another dirge finished before two men, one bearded and other swathed in black came for Anakin and Maul. They paid and left.
Data excused himself, and beamed out alone.
"Chief, don't start with the Ilisani tribe's mourning song." Jim Ellison nudged his partner a bit and nodded at the other men. "Trust me, you don't want to hear it." Blair followed him out protesting. They heard a faint ululating wail that dissolved into chanting come as the doors closed. Apparently Ellison would be subjected to what they would not.
A young man with dark hair and a baffled look went to where Spike was still singing.
"Her Bitchiness send you for me?" the vampire slurred.
"Come on, Spike." Xander heaved one of Spike's arms around his shoulder and hauled him out. "Sorry guys. I'll get him fixed up with some O-negative."
Jack continued singing, his audience down to three. Apollo had started an old Caprican song of lost love when a tap at his shoulder made him fumble for words.
"Cap'n, time to go home." Starbuck, his go-to-hell grin nowhere to be found, looked at Apollo with enough tenderness that the others knew he'd be in good hands.
Henry was comparing notes with Jack on the next song when Han wandered over. The academic started.
"Junior? I thought Marcus was picking me up."
"No, Henry, this one is my lift," Luke said softly. He stood up, the floor unsteady beneath his legs.
"You ok, Luke?" The Corellian wrapped an arm around the smaller man's waist. "One too many brandies, hunh? It's all right. If a man can't get drunk the day his lover dies, when can he?"
"Absolutely," Henry agreed with another drink of his own whisky. "Must have had one more than I needed if you're looking like my boy."
"I'd say you're about right. Have another, on us." Han dropped a couple credits on the bar and helped Luke out the door.
One more song and a third voice joined on the last chorus. "Henry, dear boy, I think you've had quite enough. I'll take you home and pour you into bed."
"Ah, Marcus. In vino veritas, and I did love her."
"I know that well, dear Henry," Marcus said, holding the door. "I know."
"Off with you, too, Jack," said the bartender, pushing a sack of silver pennies across the bar. "Ellen will want you home. Thanks. You saved the glasses."
Jack tipped his cap, and in French commented, "Anything I can do to help. Call me when you need me."
The bartender set about closing up. There would be much comfort and cuddling tonight as the grieving men took the affection of their friends and deepened it. It was just a good thing no one had tried it in the tavern. Funerals and battle victories: the two great instigators of sex.
A single person sat at the end of the bar, unnoticed until now. She pulled the hood of her elven grey cloak off to reveal stunning hair that fell in wavy tresses. Her changeable eyes were set in flawless skin. Her normally perky gamine features were downcast.
"Hiya, Mary, what'll it be?" The bartender set a glass in front of her.
"You're not surprised?"
"They can't kill Mary Sue. Here, I've still got some ambrosia from your wedding to Apollo. Drink up, girl."
"They really did love me."
"They always do, sweetie. They always do."
"Hit me with the Corellian brandy, and then I'll go."
The bartender sloshed it a bit. "Not much left. Luke hit it pretty hard. On to greener fandoms, luv?"
She drained the brandy. "Onward. Maybe this time I won't have to die."
"Sorry, kiddo, all part of the gig."
"Yep. Can you handle another wake?"
"Sure. Jack's always on call."
Mary stood to go. "Night then. I hear picking are pretty good over in LotR."
"Night, Mary. Be good." The door shut behind her. The bartender went back to sweeping up the broken glass from the fireplace.
Author: Angel
E-mail: valarltd@hotmail.com
URL: http://www.geocities.com/lady_aethelynde
Rating: PG
Summary: A wake for Mary-Sue
Type: humor
Archive: whatever, sure
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. Not Apollo and Starbuck from "Battlestar Galactica" Not Luke, Han, Obi-Wan, Maul, Anakin or Sidious from Star Wars. Not Spock, McCoy or Data from "Star Trek." Not Spike and Xander from "Buffy". Not Harry and Ron from Harry Potter. Not Jim and Blair from "The Sentinel." Not Henry Jones and Marcus Brody from the Indiana Jones series. Not even Jack Cherbourg from Ken Follett's Pillars of the Earth.
Warnings: Maybe implied comfort slash. Character death (offscreen, before the fic), music and booze.
Feedback: It makes the plotbunnies breed.
The wake was in full swing when the Colonial Warrior walked in. He took in the fact that it looked like Slash Night at the Tavern Outside of Time before seating himself at the end of the bar and ordering ambrosia.
"Apollo, I'm sorry." A light gloved hand came to rest on his arm. "She was a true hero." The Jedi's blue eyes were solemn and sad.
"Thank you, Luke. I know you loved her too."
"I did. She was so beautiful, with all her red hair"
"I beg your pardon, Jedi Skywalker, but my memory banks clearly indicate her hair was gold of a shade identical to my eyes," the android at a nearby table informed them.
"Or mine," a red and black tattooed zabrak snarled.
"No, it was black as the space between stars." The Vulcan ignored the stares as he waxed poetic.
"You're imagining things, mate. It was brown. Like good whiskey or a solid stake." The bleached vampire returned to his bloody mary.
"And the best star-pilot in the galaxy," Luke continued doggedly, ignoring the interruptions.
Apollo nodded. "She outflew me in my own viper."
"She took the Enterprise through many highly unorthodox maneuvers, yet always managed to bring it through safely," said Spock.
"She was also most adept at rewiring the holodeck when it went awry," added Data.
"Little minx stole my Sith Interceptor, and had us halfway across the galaxy before I woke up one evening."
"She hotwired my car," said the vampire. "I wake up two states away, and she tells me she's just rescued me from an angry mob."
"Not making angry mobs like they should, then," added yet another voice with a distinctly more northern cast than Spike's London tones. "But she was quite brilliant." The academic polished his glasses and resumed making notes in his diary.
"Sure, but the title of best star-pilot is mine. Obi-wan says so." The young man, barely twenty, stood up and up and up. "And don't you forget it, son." Anakin sat back down, smoothing his robes.
"How she attracted you away from Mother, I'll never understand," Luke said.
"Luke, she is your mother."
"Oh, right. Get a new bloody line already," Spike grumbled. "What, is everyone related? Next thing you know, I'll be your uncle's second bloody cousin."
"Sit. Both of you!" snapped a young wizard, about Anakin's age, brandishing his wand.
"Or what, Potter, you'll turn us into frogs?" Anakin turned up his nose at the wand.
"Any time, any place, saber boy. When the one true love of a wizard's life dies, he doesn't take insults to her memory lightly. I'll make her come back and haunt you!" Harry's green eyes blazed behind his glasses.
"Most illogical," Spock commented as Henry Jones soothed the ruffled young hotheads.
The Marine in full dress uniform picked up his drink. "To the best damn woman in the multiverse. To the one we all love. Mary Sue, Rest in Peace!"
Every man in the room lifted his glass and drank, Rick Simon's toast before throwing their glasses into the fireplace. The bartender winced, but said nothing.
"Another round," said the young man with the curly dark hair. "I'm buying." When everyone had a new glass, Blair stood up. "There is a saying among the Yunoshi tribe of the Amazon, May the beauty of her life continue in our actions. To Mary Sue."
Again the musical crash of glasses in the fireplace left the barkeep wincing. Things like this could go all night or until the glassware ran out. She quietly passed a fiddle to the young jongleur in the corner. Jack Cherbourg picked it up and started a lay of lament.
Henry, in fair voice, joined him, as did Harry, who'd learned the words on holiday with Hermione, and Data who pulled them out of old memory banks.
Distracted from the breakage, the men gathered around to honor their beloved in song.
Somewhere around the second verse of "Daisy a day," a new arrival showed up.
"Hullo Harry. Ready to go home? I've got the car." Ron Weasley looked about at the motley collection of mourners. "Thoroughly sozzled, you are, Potter. Let's go." He heaved the young wizard out of his chair and hauled him out the door. "Don't worry, gents, I'll have him right as rain."
They finished the song and went into "Will ye no come back again?" before the shimmer of a transporter materialized a dark-haired man in blue.
"Spock, time to go." McCoy was patient and his face held a sad understanding. The Vulcan went to him and they beamed out.
A blond man in a suit and tie, came in. He had a drink with his brother before steering Rick out the door.
Another dirge finished before two men, one bearded and other swathed in black came for Anakin and Maul. They paid and left.
Data excused himself, and beamed out alone.
"Chief, don't start with the Ilisani tribe's mourning song." Jim Ellison nudged his partner a bit and nodded at the other men. "Trust me, you don't want to hear it." Blair followed him out protesting. They heard a faint ululating wail that dissolved into chanting come as the doors closed. Apparently Ellison would be subjected to what they would not.
A young man with dark hair and a baffled look went to where Spike was still singing.
"Her Bitchiness send you for me?" the vampire slurred.
"Come on, Spike." Xander heaved one of Spike's arms around his shoulder and hauled him out. "Sorry guys. I'll get him fixed up with some O-negative."
Jack continued singing, his audience down to three. Apollo had started an old Caprican song of lost love when a tap at his shoulder made him fumble for words.
"Cap'n, time to go home." Starbuck, his go-to-hell grin nowhere to be found, looked at Apollo with enough tenderness that the others knew he'd be in good hands.
Henry was comparing notes with Jack on the next song when Han wandered over. The academic started.
"Junior? I thought Marcus was picking me up."
"No, Henry, this one is my lift," Luke said softly. He stood up, the floor unsteady beneath his legs.
"You ok, Luke?" The Corellian wrapped an arm around the smaller man's waist. "One too many brandies, hunh? It's all right. If a man can't get drunk the day his lover dies, when can he?"
"Absolutely," Henry agreed with another drink of his own whisky. "Must have had one more than I needed if you're looking like my boy."
"I'd say you're about right. Have another, on us." Han dropped a couple credits on the bar and helped Luke out the door.
One more song and a third voice joined on the last chorus. "Henry, dear boy, I think you've had quite enough. I'll take you home and pour you into bed."
"Ah, Marcus. In vino veritas, and I did love her."
"I know that well, dear Henry," Marcus said, holding the door. "I know."
"Off with you, too, Jack," said the bartender, pushing a sack of silver pennies across the bar. "Ellen will want you home. Thanks. You saved the glasses."
Jack tipped his cap, and in French commented, "Anything I can do to help. Call me when you need me."
The bartender set about closing up. There would be much comfort and cuddling tonight as the grieving men took the affection of their friends and deepened it. It was just a good thing no one had tried it in the tavern. Funerals and battle victories: the two great instigators of sex.
A single person sat at the end of the bar, unnoticed until now. She pulled the hood of her elven grey cloak off to reveal stunning hair that fell in wavy tresses. Her changeable eyes were set in flawless skin. Her normally perky gamine features were downcast.
"Hiya, Mary, what'll it be?" The bartender set a glass in front of her.
"You're not surprised?"
"They can't kill Mary Sue. Here, I've still got some ambrosia from your wedding to Apollo. Drink up, girl."
"They really did love me."
"They always do, sweetie. They always do."
"Hit me with the Corellian brandy, and then I'll go."
The bartender sloshed it a bit. "Not much left. Luke hit it pretty hard. On to greener fandoms, luv?"
She drained the brandy. "Onward. Maybe this time I won't have to die."
"Sorry, kiddo, all part of the gig."
"Yep. Can you handle another wake?"
"Sure. Jack's always on call."
Mary stood to go. "Night then. I hear picking are pretty good over in LotR."
"Night, Mary. Be good." The door shut behind her. The bartender went back to sweeping up the broken glass from the fireplace.