Title:
Borrowed Things
Author: Kirathaune
LJ: http://kirathaune.livejournal.com/
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Hazel & Gat, with a special appearance by
Sanzo-han
Rating/Warning: PG, mostly for You-Know-Who's mouth.
Summary: Everything that's borrowed must eventually be returned.
Disclaimers: This is just for fun, no profit made.
Notes: Another ficlet for moshesque's
Random Holiday Post of Fwee, her prompt was
"something borrowed".
Gat cleared branches and brush out of the way as Hazel and Sanzo trudged up the
mountain path. Hazel's attempts at conversation were continually rebuffed by
the monk, and it was hard walking anyway, so for most of the morning the three walked
in silence.
Suddenly the path widened before them, and Hazel made a little "Hn" of disappointment as Sanzo quickly moved ahead of
them by a good thirty feet. He heard the snick of the monk's lighter, and soon
cigarette smoke was drifting back towards him and Gat. Mr. Sanzo was mighty
picky about his "personal space," and there had been precious little
of that while they had been working their way up this mountain. Hazel couldn't
blame him, really, for wanting to get away from them for awhile.
He stumbled on a rock, and Gat's hand shot out to steady him. "Much
obliged, Gat," Hazel said, smiling at his constant companion.
"Whatever would I do without you?" His smile faded as his eyes
dropped to where his pendant used to hang. The pendant that he relied on to keep
Gat a constant companion. The pendant that Gat had broken two days ago.
Whatever would I do without you?
Frustration welled up in him. "Gat, why did you do such a damn-fool
thing?" He glared at his friend.
Yellow eyes slid away from his. "Hazel..."
But Hazel wouldn't be quieted. "Now, I understand that y'all didn't agree
with me doin' anything to help them fellers back
there. But why'd you have to go and break my pendant?" He stopped walking
and stamped his foot. "You giant idiot, we might get in a spot where I
can't revive you!"
Gat stopped walking too, and his gaze meet Hazel's, unwavering. "Then I
will not be revived."
"But you'll die!" Gloved hands gripped the soft tan suede of Gat's
vest.
The Indian's face softened. "I died many years ago. All these years, you
have been merely borrowing me. And all borrowed things must eventually be
returned."
"Returned? To who?"
Large hands covered his where they clung to the leather vest, and gently pulled
them away. "To the Great Spirit, Hazel. You need to allow me to return to
the great Medicine Wheel. I have walked the
Hazel decided to deliberately misunderstand. "But we're already goin' West, you great fool!" Gat's eyes met his again,
and Hazel saw compassion in them. He was not fooled, not one bit.
"Yes, we are on the road to Death. But you need not die, nor Sanzo,
nor the others." He nodded in the monk's direction, where Sanzo had taken
the opportunity to sit and smoke another cigarette while waiting for them to
catch up. "I'll protect you as long as I am able. And I may remain here
for a long while, but when it happens, Hazel, please just let it happen."
Hazel stood there and stared at his boots, chest tight and eyes pricking. He
did not want this. He couldn't imagine travelling
without the big galoot. But Gat was stubborn as a mule sometimes, and this was
one of those times.
"Oi! If you two morons are done over there,
let's get a move on." Sanzo stood, stowing away his cigarette pack in his
robes. "I want to get to the top of this shitpile
while there's still light." The monk started walking, muttering,
"Everywhere. Everywhere I go, it's fucking idiots..."
Hazel drew a deep breath. "My goodness, were we that long? My apologies,
Mr. Sanzo. Gat and I just had something we needed to... discuss." He
looked over at Gat, strong and solid and... borrowed. We'll see. I never was
good at returning my library books on time.
Gat gestured to the open path ahead of them. "Hazel... go on, now."
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