REC: Security by tsukikarp (PG)
Jul. 31st, 2008 04:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ficwizeFandom: BOONDOCK SAINTS
Pairing: Gen (although can be read as Connor/Murphy)
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tsukikarp
Author Website: Unknown
Why this must be read: Set that night in the jail cell after the Russians changed everything, this is a look at how Connor coped with the stress of the day. It's really beautifully done.
Connor shudders again, but now it’s not because of the cold. It’s because the terror, which he had since restrained with astronomical amounts of control and adrenaline, slams into him full force. God, he was just so… so fucking… scared.
His knees start to prickle, his legs beginning to fall asleep, and Connor realizes that he has been kneeling on the hard holding cell floor for a quarter of an hour now, and has not even begun his original intention. He has not even begun to pray.
He crosses himself slowly, his hand trembling slightly. Just so fucking scared!
“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti…” he whispers. The opening of his prayer is simple, engrained into him, etched in his blood. But beyond that? Words cannot grasp his feelings. His entire body is screaming tonight, but he cannot form a single coherent word.
Murphy almost died today— almost fucking died!
Security
Pairing: Gen (although can be read as Connor/Murphy)
Author on LJ:
tsukikarpAuthor Website: Unknown
Why this must be read: Set that night in the jail cell after the Russians changed everything, this is a look at how Connor coped with the stress of the day. It's really beautifully done.
Connor shudders again, but now it’s not because of the cold. It’s because the terror, which he had since restrained with astronomical amounts of control and adrenaline, slams into him full force. God, he was just so… so fucking… scared.
His knees start to prickle, his legs beginning to fall asleep, and Connor realizes that he has been kneeling on the hard holding cell floor for a quarter of an hour now, and has not even begun his original intention. He has not even begun to pray.
He crosses himself slowly, his hand trembling slightly. Just so fucking scared!
“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti…” he whispers. The opening of his prayer is simple, engrained into him, etched in his blood. But beyond that? Words cannot grasp his feelings. His entire body is screaming tonight, but he cannot form a single coherent word.
Murphy almost died today— almost fucking died!
Security
