Fic: Trapped (WWW, Jim/Artie)

[przed]

Fic: Trapped
Fandom: Wild Wild West
Pairing: Jim/Artie
Word Count: 1,000
Notes: Written around a prompt draycevixen gave me for a help_haiti drabble. The prompt was "Not today, Jim," and I think it's a bit more angsty than you were expecting. Plus, it's a bit more than a drabble, but I don't think you'll mind. *g*


"You need to leave, Artie. Now." Jim's voice was strong, but ragged enough at the edges that it had me worried.

"No need for panic, James. Relax, and I'll have you out of here in no time."

"Relax. Easy for you to say."

It wasn't easy for me to say. Not at all. Not with James West trapped in a half-collapsed mine shaft, with the rest of the roof threatening to come down completely on both of us. Damn Miguelito Loveless and his treacherous death traps anyway.

I stepped back, surveying the jumble of beams and rock that had Jim pinned. I had to view it like a puzzle to be solved and nothing more. Find the right order to remove the rubble, and I'd have Jim free in a flash. Do it wrong… Well, there was no point dwelling on that because I wasn't going to do it wrong.

"Artie."

"Not now, Jim." I just about had it worked out. The key was the beam balancing a large fall of rock behind it. Now if I could just figure out how to get that moved without triggering another collapse-

"Artie."

I ignored Jim, just as I ignored the guttering of the one oil lamp we had. I couldn't afford to lose the light now, just as I couldn't afford to let my worry for Jim affect my judgment. So I refused to think about either thing.

"Artie!" The urgency in his voice made me give Jim my full attention. He looked like a dust-smeared ghost in the flickering light. I tried not to imagine the damage his trapped legs had suffered. He'd told me there was nothing broken. I only hoped he wasn't lying.

"Yes, Jim?"

"I want you to leave."

"No." I could do stubborn as well as James West. Better, on some days.

"Please." There wasn't a speck of pleading in his voice, but I could sense there it just the same. And I wasn't going to be swayed by it.

He reached out and caught at my hand, his skin distressingly cold to the touch. "Leave, Artie." Even in the fading light of the lamp, I could see the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed. "I won't be the cause of your death."

"I'm not going to die." I clasped his cold hand with both of mine, willing the heat of my body to warm him. "Neither of us is. Not today, Jim."

"Artie, you stubborn, stupid…" Jim squeezed my hand more fiercely as his voice trailed off. His grip might have been fierce, but he looked more vulnerable than I'd ever seen him. I had to look away, the sight of him trapped here suddenly more than I could bear.

And then I had it.

I knew how to shift the rubble, knew which beam to move, and which one to leave alone. I knew how to save Jim.

"Trust me," I said firmly, before gently withdrawing my hands from his and getting to work, carefully shifting to small boulders, cautiously moving one beam to block further rock falls.

It took some time, and the light from the lamp grew dimmer all the while. By the time I'd cleared enough rubble to pull Jim free, there wasn't much more light than you'd get from the stars on the night of a new moon.

Jim hadn't lied about not having broken bones, but he was battered enough. He leaned into me when I wrapped an arm around his waist. I had to carry the almost useless lamp with my other hand or I would have heaved him into my arms and carried him out of the mine. As it was, we stumbled down the shaft, tripping over debris the lamp wasn't bright enough to illuminate, and out into the brilliant light of a disconcertingly sunny day.

I got us far enough away from the mine entrance that we didn't have to worry about another cave in, set Jim gently down at the side of the trail, and scouted around to make sure Loveless or one of his henchmen wasn't waiting for us. When I was certain it was safe, I went back to Jim.

He looked worse in the light than he had in the gloom of the mine. His clothes were begrimed and torn; his face and hands were bruised and bloodied. I needed to see to his hurts. But there was something I had to say first, something I'd just realized.

I sat beside Jim and took his nearest hand in mine, being careful not to cause him any more pain.

"There are two things you need to know, Jim."

"Artie…"

"Two things," I repeated firmly, not wanting to be distracted now that I knew what I needed to do. "First, I will never leave you. Not ever. No matter what. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Jim said with a look that said he understood what a damned fool I am. "What's the second thing?"

"This." I leaned in close, grabbed the front of his shirt, and kissed him.

His lips tasted of dust and blood, but I didn't care. I put everything I felt for him into that kiss, every emotion, every worry, and every bit of love. He stiffened against me for a moment, and I prepared for the worst. For a slug to the jaw, or a look of betrayal. But after a moment he relaxed against me, one hand firmly gripping my shoulder. I felt his lips open against mine, his mouth as warm as his hands were cold.

Finally, he pulled back and stared at me with an expression that was both ferocious and tender. Then he leaned forward until our foreheads touched, the contact far more intimate than the kiss that had preceded it.

Trapped, that's what I was. As entangled by my feelings for James as he had been by the debris of the mine.

But it's one trap I have no wish to escape.

Comments

[przed.livejournal.com]

Actually, I lied. Pretty much all of the many Aragorn/Boromir stories I wrote? They don't end well. It's pretty much always, here have a moment of happiness before Boromir DIES! (I did a few angsty VigBean ones too.)

Oh, and my long UNCLE cycle. In which I break up the boys for twelve, long, angsty years.

Then there's the one Pros death story I wrote. That blindsided me. It wasn't meant to be a death story, then the muse whispered that one extra scene in my ear and suddenly I'd killed off Doyle.

[draycevixen.livejournal.com]

But... Boromir's is a canon death, right, unless my recall is totally off, just like V's death is.

As to UNCLE if the boys get back together in the end that's still a happy ending just of the "we bloody well earned this happy ending" type of angst.

I haven't written a non-canon death... yet. I can't see it happening but who knows. Oddly enough, to me at least, some of the saddest endings I can think of aren't when someone dies but when they just can't end up being together for one reason or another.

[przed.livejournal.com]

Oddly enough, to me at least, some of the saddest endings I can think of aren't when someone dies but when they just can't end up being together for one reason or another.

I agree. There are a number of Pros death stories that are wrenching, but an affirmation of the lads' love for each other. (What the Thunder Said by Fanny Adams, and As Far As Is Appropriate by Jane Mailander, which alas doesn't seem to be online, being two of my faves of the genre.) But if they just can't seem to be together, that is the real tragedy. (I sense that's where that new Holmes story is going. ::sobs again::)

[draycevixen.livejournal.com]

Thanks for the link but right now I can't handle the thought of death fic. I shall put it on my "to read" list.

I think that's why the Reichenbach Falls incident has continued to fascinate Holmes slashers, the fact that Holmes chose to stay away for so long and Watson's life in the meantime. *swallows heavily*

[przed.livejournal.com]

Death stories are not for all people, or for all times, but that's a good one if you're ever in the mood. (I've always been rather fond of death stories, but gave them up entirely in the wake of my father's death. I'm only just getting back to where I can read them, and I'll probably never be as fond of them as I was.)

There would be plenty of grist for the slashers' mill in the Holmes canon without the Reichenbach Falls. But with that incident... You've got it all: Watson's grief; Holmes witnessing the grief but making a conscious decision to let Watson believe in his death; Watson's fainting on finding Holmes is alive; Holmes being so very apologetic for allowing Watson's emotional turmoil to continue. It's such a delicious emotional stew, and can lead either to things going very right, or very wrong with the Holmes/Watson dynamic.

[draycevixen.livejournal.com]

Have you read Katie Forsythe's The Three Favours? (http://liquidfic.net/threefavours.html) It's a nice treatment on the subject.

[przed.livejournal.com]

Thanks for the rec. Just read it whilst waiting for the Ros to finally fall asleep. Wrenching, and happy making. I really need to go through and read all of KF's Holmes fic.

[draycevixen.livejournal.com]

She *really* knows the canon, is brilliant with the "Victoriana" and has serious writer chops... but she has reoccurring writerly obsessions, like Holmes' hands and tends to always write a pining Watson who may be involved in a physical relationship with Holmes even but has no confidence that there's an emotional element to it and a Holmes who doesn't really believe he's worthy of Watson's love. A lot of it reminds me of the reoccurring thing in Pros of an "emotional first time" that I haven't seen as much elsewhere in fandom. This is not meant as a criticism of her work, it's just that I can't read more than one of her stories at a time, as it's like trying to eat a whole layer cake by yourself.

[przed.livejournal.com]

You're not kidding on the canon. I read Norwood Builder about three days ago, and she used it expertly. And her sense of Victorian England is lovely. I'll definitely mete out her stories in small amounts, though. The two or three of her stories I've read I can see her obsessions poking their heads out. I'm not one for eating entire layer cakes by myself. *g*

[draycevixen.livejournal.com]

It's a general rule that cake tastes a lot better when you don't make yourself sick on it. *g*