|Agent Fox Mulder (i_want_2) wrote in multi_fiction,|
@ 2011-01-20 20:48:00
|Entry tags:||rated: adult, rps, slash|
Fic: This Empire Of Dirt 1/1 RPS Heroes
Title: This Empire Of Dirt.
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: None of this is real and in no way reflects upon any actual person, place, or event.
Characters: Zachary Quinto, Milo Ventimiglia
Fandom: RPS Heroes
Warnings: Language, Graphic Character Death.
Summary: Zach tries, but he is too late to save them both.
Author's Note: This was supposed to be the first part of an Heroes/STXI RPS AU. It fell through. So, I am posting the part I had done. Title and fic based upon 'Hurt' by Johnny Cash.
Part 1: November, 2006
He heard the scream across the set. Feet moving, Zach was already halfway across the soundstage before he knew what was happening. People were shouting words that didn't make sense to his ears. One in particular was being repeated over and over. That one he knew.
Fear clenched in his chest. Thoughts of what had happened ran through his brain. But he didn't have time for that now. He knew that he had to get there now!
Rounding the prop building, he nearly tripped on the massive green curtain that surrounded it. His hands automatically went out to balance himself when he stumbled. Once he was stable, he looked up to continue on. That was when he saw why they screamed. Gasping, he felt as if the air had been sucked from his lungs.
There in the rigging hung a man by his neck. His flailing limbs twisted him further in the support cables.
More screams came from every direction, shrill and panicked. They sounded from a distance, distorted to his ears. So many voices were crying out at once that nothing they said was coherent. Not that any of it mattered.
Zach rushed towards him. He was but one of several. Someone blocked his way, but not for long. A full body shove knocked him clear.
The man cursed as he was slammed into the set.
Stepping over the fallen man, Zach quickly made it to the knot of people. He fought to get through them. They were inconsequential, only a hindrance, getting in the way between him and the man. His thoughts were fragmented. Nothing about what he was doing made sense.
All Zach knew was that he had to get there. Then he was.
Somehow he had made it through the cluster. His arms quickly wrapped around the man's thighs as he fought to support him. The weight strained every muscle in his body, but it wasn't enough. The man was still flailing about. More than one wild kick landed, but Zach ignored them. He had to keep trying, to hold on.
Face pressed into the man's stomach, he strained to raise the man higher. Others tried to help, but it still wasn't enough.
He still flailed and kicked to get free.
One good kick landed in his chest and knocked the wind out of him. It stunned him for a moment and he couldn't catch his breath. Rushing in his ears deafened the noise of more cries. Blinking back spots and tears, he fought to maintain his hold and breathe at the same time.
Suddenly, the weight of the man came crashing down on him. The force his release knocked Zach to the ground and the man landed half on top of him.
His ability to breathe again came rushing in with a harsh groan. He was moving before his lungs were full, crawling over the space to check on the other man. Blurred vision prevented him from seeing until he blinked.
A few inches away, the other man stared back. His face appeared slightly swollen, his features ruddy and well on the way to purple. Yet, he could still see.
Zach knew from the way those dark eyes sluggishly tracked his movements. Busted red veins stood out, making them blood shot. Eyes blurring again, he sucked in a shuddering breath.
Fingers ghosted across his cheek. Unsteadily, they touched his nose, sliding down over his lips. Then they were gone.
As he stared, a light seemed to go out in the man's eyes. His pupils lost focus and his face slackened.
Trembling, Zach could only watch helplessly as the man was pulled away from him.
"Today, tragedy struck the set of NBC's 'Heroes'. During a pivotal fight scene between main character 'Peter', played by Milo Ventimiglia, and a supporting character, played by Christopher Eccleston..."
"Funeral services were held this morning in Forest Lawn Memorial Parke. Over a thousand people were in attendance to watch the body of..."
"...NBC has announced they have canceled the freshman drama 'Heroes' following the tragic and accidental death of star Milo..."
Turning off the television, Zach gently set the remote aside. He stared red-eyed at the floor of his apartment. Taking a deep breath, he expected it to sound hollow in his chest. Surely there had to be enough room now.
Bracing his arms on the chair's rests, he tried to summon enough strength to keep breathing. Every nerve in his body was raw. How could he live like this? Why was it possible to still be here when he felt a gentle breeze would scatter his cells?
It hurt so much. Everything ached inside.
There had been a card, an invitation. It didn't matter. He knew it hadn't been from them. They hadn't wanted him to be there today, or ever for that matter. Whoever had sent it meant well. It...just didn't matter. There had only been one and that was the only important part.
Sniffing, Zach drew his legs up into the leather chair. The afghan over the back slid down to cover his shoulders and he closed his eyes. If he pretended hard enough, he could almost believe that he was in the other room sleeping off another day on set.
Fingers carding through his hair made his eyes flutter open. It was getting longer, but would be months before it was to the length Milo had. He was always complaining about how long they made him keep it for the role of Peter. Milo had found it amusing when he had...
Shoulders shaking, strong hands were the only thing that kept him together. They weren't the right size. It was enough, though, to keep him.
When he was tugged up from the chair, he came willingly. The other pushed him and he went despite the size difference. He was in no position to resist. Those hands kept him grounded as they guided him, wrapped around him from behind. Words were whispered towards his ears that he needed sleep. The speaker was right.
By the time he was docilely pushed face first on the bed, he had lost all will of his own. He lay there as the covers were drawn up over them. The weight of a body against him, half covering him was familiar enough that he was finally able to rest.