Naphtha by Sezzie
Summary: Even fate couldn't be so cruel. AU to, um, the ep where MP meets Thomas.
Categories: Alternate Universe Characters: Miss Parker, Thomas
Genres: Drama
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 410 Read: 1525 Published: 10/07/05 Updated: 10/07/05

1. -- by Sezzie

-- by Sezzie
A packet of cigarettes, some change, a vending machine, and the other side of the glass.


Human versus appliance, ex-smoker versus chain-smoker, a smile versus a sneer and warmth versus ice.


‘Do you believe in fate?’


A question, like a loaded gun, and one of those in the glove compartment of her car. A tongue, a testy remark, a voice in the back of her mind telling her to take a chance and hesitation because of being hurt too many times to count.


Later – a folder of papers. A file, a wastepaper basket and the weight of a decision. Loss as a controlled variable and reactions aplenty. Tombstones, epitaphs, empty graves. Tears, fallen and unshed, and for every one of them an ice brick around a beating heart that was never made of stone.


Do you believe in fate?


Two palms touching, despite the sheet between. Phone calls and sound waves making a connection when the reaching grew invisible. A girl, a boy, a life never meant for them. Family, truths and more lies than the lesser whilst a ghoul still reigned.


A fairytale, gone wrong.


Future.


A kiss, a flight, a dance, a chase
A once sweet angel fallen from grace

Brothers, count them, one two three
Raised from hate and power, greed



Three twins. Birth date, eyes and guile – more of a mirror reflection than could ever be liked. Voices, sadness and destruction in a mind that deserved it not, and a white dove caught in the cross fire. The devil, a tragic hero and prince with the world to rest on his shoulders.


A father, a mother. Neither there.


Yeah, sure. I believe in fate.


A script to follow – somebody to blame but herself.


Forever and eternity, a childhood and an evermore. Broken wings, a painted smile, a glass of scotch and smoke as a security blanket. A chance, a wish, a hope, a dream. A grab for coins and a return to a car without a backward glance. Memories of someone who didn’t have to stay a stranger, years spent drinking and smoking and ignoring a studio hidden behind a wall. A remainder of life spent wondering what if, why not and if only.


Fate. Destiny. Predetermined.


‘Even fate couldn’t be so cruel.’


A door slams shut, sunglasses slide down and a key turns in the ignition.


She’s not so sure she believes it.
This story archived at http://www.pretendercentre.com/missingpieces/viewstory.php?sid=3366