Nimi: Fists
Kirjoittaja: Aladdin Sane
Fandom: Hohto (The Shining)
Genre: Surumielistä hahmotutkielmaa. Ficlet (415 sanaa).
Ikäraja: k11
Päähenkilöt: Jack Torrance & Danny Torrance
Varoitukset: Hiukan puhetta perheväkivallasta
Yhteenveto: They give Jack his infant son to hold, a tiny little swaddled thing, and all he can think of is fists.
Vastuunvapaus: Hohto hahmoineen ei ole meikäläisen omaisuutta, enkä minä tee tällä työllä minkäänlaista voittoa.
A/N: Jälleen kerran raskain sydämin ilmoitan, että gradun kirjoittamisen sijaan olen kirjoittanut ficin graduni aiheesta. Niin kuin tähänkinastisista Hohto/Tohtori Uni -ficeistä, en vaivautunut tätäkään kääntämään suomeksi asti, joten tällä mennään. Ficlet300 sanalla 046 pehmeä.
FISTS
They give Jack his infant son to hold, a tiny little swaddled thing, and all he can think of is fists.
Fists, as Danny’s tiny baby fist clutches his finger and Jack loves him so much, so fiercely, that it breaks his own heart and frightens him to his core, a singularly raw emotion he has no hope of expressing in writing, he’s fairly sure no one can.
Fists, as Jack sits there in the armchair next to the bed where Wendy has fallen asleep, exhausted. Acutely, painfully aware of how tiny and soft and weak this little baby is and how easy it would be to hurt him. Jack’s own hands feel too big, too clumsy, big-knuckled hairy man hands larger than Danny’s head, oh Jesus Christ –
Jack looks at him, his tiny ruddy face, hears his tiny little baby sounds, and he thinks of fists – his father’s fists, Mark Torrance’s good right hand landing on him, black eyes and torn hair, broken nose on his mother, his siblings –
“I’m never gonna let anything harm you, Danny,” he whispers, a sob tight in his throat, tears in his eyes. “I swear it, I’ll do right by you, I’ll never. Swear to God, I’ll die before I let anyone touch you.”
He eventually gives Danny back to Wendy when he starts to cry his hunger. Wendy takes Danny from him, a steady stream of soft sweet nothings already going, easy as anything, as she gives him her breast. Holy, Jack briefly thinks as he watches. Mary and Jesus but better. Holier than Mary, holier than Jesus.
Wendy looks at him look at them and smiles, cradling their son in the most impenetrable nest, soft arms, fitting just so, protecting him from all evil, from every angry word, from every fist.
Jack gets up, maybe a bit abruptly, but Wendy is so focused on Danny that he can make it look all cool and natural with a wide smile and a light slap of his palms on his chair’s armrests.
“I think I’ll uh, go out for a smoke.”
“You do that,” Wendy says. “Say bye-bye, Daddy,” she tells Danny, who’s seemingly already halfway back to sleep.
“Bye-bye, Danny,” Jack theater-whispers and waves at him, then turns and closes the door.
Fists, pressed tight against his mouth, as he bites his knuckles in the hospital men’s room stall, silent sobs wracking him all over as he thinks about his infant son and his tiny, tiny fists.
