the trailer is metaphorical
Feb. 24th, 2007 12:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wizened_cynicSo I signed up for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
picfor1000 and here is my fic. The picture I was given is this, and, uh, see the subject of the post for more details.
This fic is kind of cracky (but not as cracky as the SPN AU) and completely, utterly, undeniably the fault of one![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thelastgoodname. The premise of it is, toddler A.J. visits Alex in SVU canon. Also, there is vomit. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you should stop reading now. No, really.
Some Impossible Tuesday
By now Alex was used to interpreting A.J.'s screams. She could tell the difference between her "I rammed my head into a wall to see what would happen and now it hurts" scream and her "How dare you change the channel when I'm watching Dora" scream and her "I hate you, you are a moron, I want Lorelai" scream.
But there hadn't been a scream.
Nope, nary a scream, or a shriek, or a wail, or even a whimper.
It happened instantaneously.
One minute Alex was on the couch with her laptop computer, reviewing the latest rulings on the Santiago case, and next, there was the pad-pad-pad of A.J.'s pajama-ed feet against the floorboards.
Alex looked up, folding the screen closed. "What's wrong, A.J.?" she asked. "Did you wet the bed again?"
A.J. inched close, watching Alex with wild, panicked eyes.
Moments later she leaned her head over and threw up in Alex's lap.
It happened so quickly that Alex could not even tell her to stop, not that that would have accomplished anything. Instead, she sat, stupefied, unable to say or move as the partially digested chopped scallop roll and katsu udon from Nobu emerged from A.J.'s digestive tract and onto the top of Alex's Thinkpad x20.
There was no way Alex could stretch the warranty on the machine to cover baby vomit.
It stopped as abruptly as it started. A.J. slid onto the floor, her diaper cushioning her fall, and she began to cry.
She didn't scream --- if she had screamed, Alex could have had a legitimate excuse to be angry and irritated and vituperative at whichever religious figure was responsible for delivering her a two-year-old out of nowhere --- but she did not. A.J. was sobbing quietly, emitting a series of choked, exhausted whimpers of an elderly patient with emphysema.
"I sorry," A.J. repeated, her voice barely audible above her tears. "I sorry. I sorry."
"Okay," Alex said. She was still holding the laptop and she could feel the parts of her pajama bottoms that had not escaped A.J.'s wrath. "Okay. I can handle this."
If she could build a case out of thin air, she could handle this. She just needed to figure out how.
A.J. was still crying, her sobs tapering into soft, little moans. It occurred to Alex for the first time that A.J. might be sick. It wasn't entirely out of the equation that A.J. had done this out of spite (she had, after all, been furious at Alex for not procuring her a Lorelai, whatever or whoever that is), but the way the child was sniveling right now, her eyes closed and her head damp with sweat, belied something less sinister. A stomach virus, perhaps.
"Okay," Alex said again, trying to determine a course of action. "I'll get you cleaned up. Come on."
Holding the sticky toddler at arm's length, Alex toted her to the bathroom and stripped her of her clothes. A.J. sat on the toilet, worn out from her escapades, and didn't put up a fight as Alex wet a towel with warm water and scrubbed her face with it.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Alex soothed as A.J. scrabbled for Alex's neck and rubbed her face against Alex's shirt. "Nothing I can't fix. I can get a new computer. I can get a new couch."
And now, a new shirt. She'd already lost count of how many items of clothing A.J. had ruined. Two-year-olds are nothing but giant dispensers of various bodily fluids.
A.J, grabbed two fistfuls of Alex's hair and closed her eyes, burying her tiny face in the hollow spot above Alex's collarbone. "Lorelai," she called mournfully. "Lorelai."
Who the hell is Lorelai? Alex wondered for the hundredth time that week. How important was this Lorelai, that Alex's daughter --- not this Alex; some other Alex, but still Alex --- would cry out for her when she needed comfort?
A.J.'s head felt feverish, which accelerated Alex's panic. The mess in her living room seemed insignificant in comparison. Children have died from pneumonia or encephalitis or typhoid, and sure, maybe A.J. wasn't exhibiting most of the symptoms right now, but who knew what would happen?
It was one in the morning. There was no doctor she could call; the alternative would be to take A.J. to the emergency room, but that seemed a little extreme.
"Mommy," A.J. croaked.
They would have to risk it.
Alex called a cab and began stuffing A.J.'s limbs into a NYPD T-shirt Olivia had left behind. Usually, getting A.J. dressed was like trying to shove a live octopus into a tube sock, but this time A.J. complied to all of Alex's ministrations, barely making a sound.
At least she was conscious.
"Hey, A.J.," Alex asked, trying to keep her that way, "how old are you?"
It took a moment before A.J. opened her eyes. She drew two raspy breaths and held up four fingers. "Two."
"Close enough." Alex picked her up and felt her forehead. A.J. was burning up, she was burning up, when the hell was the cab going to get here?
The cab finally arrived, and on their way to the emergency room at St. Vincent's, Alex held the baby close and rubbed her back and stroked her hair and did everything that she could imagine Olivia doing in the same situation.
"Lorelai," A.J. murmured. "Want Lorelai."
"If you get better, I will find Lorelai for you."
"Really?"
Alex had no idea how she was going to do this, but she was. It was not negotiable. She had not asked for a second chance, but she'd been given one, and it was not fair now, for God, or whoever was responsible for giving A.J. to her, to take it away. She wasn't going to let A.J. die, even if it meant having to go on a fishing expedition for a Lorelai who might not even exist.
"Yes," she said.
"Okay," A.J. said, and was silent for the rest of the way.
And this is why I should stop signing up for challenges.
P.S. Does anyone remember the specific words Roman gladiators used to say before they entered into the arena to kick the shit out of each other? I learned it in Grade 9 but I can't remember it now, and Google is surprisingly unhelpful. Classics majors? Anyone?
picfor1000 and here is my fic. The picture I was given is this, and, uh, see the subject of the post for more details.This fic is kind of cracky (but not as cracky as the SPN AU) and completely, utterly, undeniably the fault of one
thelastgoodname. The premise of it is, toddler A.J. visits Alex in SVU canon. Also, there is vomit. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you should stop reading now. No, really. By now Alex was used to interpreting A.J.'s screams. She could tell the difference between her "I rammed my head into a wall to see what would happen and now it hurts" scream and her "How dare you change the channel when I'm watching Dora" scream and her "I hate you, you are a moron, I want Lorelai" scream.
But there hadn't been a scream.
Nope, nary a scream, or a shriek, or a wail, or even a whimper.
It happened instantaneously.
One minute Alex was on the couch with her laptop computer, reviewing the latest rulings on the Santiago case, and next, there was the pad-pad-pad of A.J.'s pajama-ed feet against the floorboards.
Alex looked up, folding the screen closed. "What's wrong, A.J.?" she asked. "Did you wet the bed again?"
A.J. inched close, watching Alex with wild, panicked eyes.
Moments later she leaned her head over and threw up in Alex's lap.
It happened so quickly that Alex could not even tell her to stop, not that that would have accomplished anything. Instead, she sat, stupefied, unable to say or move as the partially digested chopped scallop roll and katsu udon from Nobu emerged from A.J.'s digestive tract and onto the top of Alex's Thinkpad x20.
There was no way Alex could stretch the warranty on the machine to cover baby vomit.
It stopped as abruptly as it started. A.J. slid onto the floor, her diaper cushioning her fall, and she began to cry.
She didn't scream --- if she had screamed, Alex could have had a legitimate excuse to be angry and irritated and vituperative at whichever religious figure was responsible for delivering her a two-year-old out of nowhere --- but she did not. A.J. was sobbing quietly, emitting a series of choked, exhausted whimpers of an elderly patient with emphysema.
"I sorry," A.J. repeated, her voice barely audible above her tears. "I sorry. I sorry."
"Okay," Alex said. She was still holding the laptop and she could feel the parts of her pajama bottoms that had not escaped A.J.'s wrath. "Okay. I can handle this."
If she could build a case out of thin air, she could handle this. She just needed to figure out how.
A.J. was still crying, her sobs tapering into soft, little moans. It occurred to Alex for the first time that A.J. might be sick. It wasn't entirely out of the equation that A.J. had done this out of spite (she had, after all, been furious at Alex for not procuring her a Lorelai, whatever or whoever that is), but the way the child was sniveling right now, her eyes closed and her head damp with sweat, belied something less sinister. A stomach virus, perhaps.
"Okay," Alex said again, trying to determine a course of action. "I'll get you cleaned up. Come on."
Holding the sticky toddler at arm's length, Alex toted her to the bathroom and stripped her of her clothes. A.J. sat on the toilet, worn out from her escapades, and didn't put up a fight as Alex wet a towel with warm water and scrubbed her face with it.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Alex soothed as A.J. scrabbled for Alex's neck and rubbed her face against Alex's shirt. "Nothing I can't fix. I can get a new computer. I can get a new couch."
And now, a new shirt. She'd already lost count of how many items of clothing A.J. had ruined. Two-year-olds are nothing but giant dispensers of various bodily fluids.
A.J, grabbed two fistfuls of Alex's hair and closed her eyes, burying her tiny face in the hollow spot above Alex's collarbone. "Lorelai," she called mournfully. "Lorelai."
Who the hell is Lorelai? Alex wondered for the hundredth time that week. How important was this Lorelai, that Alex's daughter --- not this Alex; some other Alex, but still Alex --- would cry out for her when she needed comfort?
A.J.'s head felt feverish, which accelerated Alex's panic. The mess in her living room seemed insignificant in comparison. Children have died from pneumonia or encephalitis or typhoid, and sure, maybe A.J. wasn't exhibiting most of the symptoms right now, but who knew what would happen?
It was one in the morning. There was no doctor she could call; the alternative would be to take A.J. to the emergency room, but that seemed a little extreme.
"Mommy," A.J. croaked.
They would have to risk it.
Alex called a cab and began stuffing A.J.'s limbs into a NYPD T-shirt Olivia had left behind. Usually, getting A.J. dressed was like trying to shove a live octopus into a tube sock, but this time A.J. complied to all of Alex's ministrations, barely making a sound.
At least she was conscious.
"Hey, A.J.," Alex asked, trying to keep her that way, "how old are you?"
It took a moment before A.J. opened her eyes. She drew two raspy breaths and held up four fingers. "Two."
"Close enough." Alex picked her up and felt her forehead. A.J. was burning up, she was burning up, when the hell was the cab going to get here?
The cab finally arrived, and on their way to the emergency room at St. Vincent's, Alex held the baby close and rubbed her back and stroked her hair and did everything that she could imagine Olivia doing in the same situation.
"Lorelai," A.J. murmured. "Want Lorelai."
"If you get better, I will find Lorelai for you."
"Really?"
Alex had no idea how she was going to do this, but she was. It was not negotiable. She had not asked for a second chance, but she'd been given one, and it was not fair now, for God, or whoever was responsible for giving A.J. to her, to take it away. She wasn't going to let A.J. die, even if it meant having to go on a fishing expedition for a Lorelai who might not even exist.
"Yes," she said.
"Okay," A.J. said, and was silent for the rest of the way.
And this is why I should stop signing up for challenges.
P.S. Does anyone remember the specific words Roman gladiators used to say before they entered into the arena to kick the shit out of each other? I learned it in Grade 9 but I can't remember it now, and Google is surprisingly unhelpful. Classics majors? Anyone?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-02-24 08:37 am (UTC)This reminds me of the scene in Guilt outside Petrovsky's office.
I so love this fic -- especially the way Alex talks to A.J. like A.J. is an adult. I think you need to write more of this.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-24 07:27 pm (UTC)Thanks! I'm working on the vomit sequel!
no subject
Date: 2007-02-24 09:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-24 07:28 pm (UTC)(But I will probably write more. Because I need help too. *facepalms*)
Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-25 12:18 am (UTC)But seriously. I look forward to more.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-24 11:30 am (UTC)will read later, work to do :)
no subject
Date: 2007-02-24 07:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-24 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-24 11:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-25 12:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-24 05:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-24 07:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-25 05:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 12:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-26 01:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 05:49 am (UTC)Now Alex and AJ must find Lorelei and then Alex will have to explain to her how AJ ended up on her doorstep, how she is hers but not hers, how she wants Lorelei, how Lorelei must be important even though Alex doesn't even know *what* a Lorelei is, and then Lorelei will move in with AJ and Alex one day while Alex is at work (because AJ recognizes Lorelei, so the nanny just lets her in and Alex fires the nanny but keeps Lorelei because Lorelei just won't leave already), and suddenly Alex will have an AJ and a Lorelei in her life that seem to fit there even though she doesn't understand why.
God, I need to go to sleep.
:)
no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 06:14 am (UTC)Awwwwww, life is rough, huh? I'm fucking tired myself right now and I have the schedule of a preschooler.
Sleep well, tapeworm. Don't be a stranger.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 11:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-01 02:46 am (UTC)