FIC: Reinvention (Spooks/M15, Tom, PG-13)
Mar. 1st, 2005 03:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
owlbeerTitle: Reinvention
Author: Tali
Fandom: Spooks / MI5
Character: Tom
Rating: PG -13
Summary: It wasn't his sort of holiday
Spoilers: Set in the aftermath of 302
Disclaimer: Not mine. Belongs to the BBC, whom I adore.
A/N: First attempt at Spooks fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
slodwick's ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
picfor1000 challenge.
1000 words based on this pic:
Reinvention
It wasn’t his sort of holiday. He’d never been a ‘beach person’. He’d never really been a ‘holiday person’ when he got right down to it, but here he was anyway. Tom had thought it wise to get away from the type of person he thought he was. He’d been so sure before; now he just didn’t know.
It was a small island. Isolated, not nearly as tourist-y as the ones surrounding. He’d packed quickly, not knowing how long he would be gone; at the time not even knowing exactly where it was he would be going. He’d almost naively hoped he might find some peace here but the sound of the waves crashing only bought back the beach of just over a month ago. This one was covered in sand but the other one had been covered in stones that he had stumbled across on his way out to the sea. Away from Zoe and Danny, and from Harry, whose shoulder he had just planted a bullet in.
Harry. His mind went back to the events that put him on this beach. He knew Harry had no other option and that decommissioning him had been the only choice. He saw that now. He wouldn’t just get ‘back to normal.’ He knew that psychologically he couldn’t do his job any more. Practically his skills had been as good as they had ever been, but in the end it had all come down to what was in his head and a conscience many people thought he’d never even possessed.
Adam’s words the day that they had gone for drinks had been far more truthful than even Tom had realised at the time. It was different when they were telling lies about you. Very different. Pretending to be someone else wasn’t a problem, because you controlled the lies and the people around you, the people who cared about you, knew that this wasn’t the ‘real’ you. Amonth before, they didn’t know. For a while there, even he didn’t know. Someone else had been controlling the lies.
Tom had checked into the hotel under his real name. He’d seriously thought about a false one but in the end found he couldn’t stomach the thought of someone calling him, ‘Mr Palmer,’ or ‘Mr Hall’ all the time he was here. Lies.
He watched as a young boy played in the waves as his mother looked on. Carefree. Without fear. Or if there was fear, fear that he would get told off for not putting away his toys back in the hotel room before they went down to the beach, rather than the fear that a bunch of armed commandos would barge in and kill someone in the corner of the room you were sitting in, huddled in your mother’s arms.
It wasn’t easy to send people to ruin their lives. He’d never thought it had been, but he’d done it - for the good of the country. However, while he’d seen it happen, time and time and time again; the distrust, the deceit; their lives becoming almost unrecognisable from what they had been before, he’d never known what it was like. Now he knew.
Tom realised the effect that ‘they’ had on people’s lives. The effect his job had on his life.
A woman - not much more than a girl really - nineteen, maybe twenty, walked past him dressed in a sarong and a bikini top. She gave him a smile. Tom looked the other way.
He’d thought about ringing Ellie and telling her that the job was no longer a problem, but he hadn’t known if she’d take his call, or if he really wanted her to.
He’d even thought about calling Christine. Even thought about sending her a ticket. But he hadn’t known if she’d come, or if he really wanted her to.
Tom didn’t know if it was a good time to be around other people right now. Then again, he didn’t know if being alone was exactly the right thing for him either. He was glad the hotel had bungalows that were a little isolated from the main hotel and had gotten one, but then often took walks down the beach towards the hotel, like he was doing today. He couldn’t help but study them. Calculate their strengths and weaknesses. His training wouldn’t die away in a hurry.
A man sat not far from the beach just behind a rack of scooters that he hired to tourists wishing to drive around the island. The rack was full but he didn’t look perturbed. He just sat there, puffing on his pipe and enjoying the warmth of the sun.
Tom looked down at his arm. It was lit up by same tropical sunshine the man was enjoying and it looked almost alien to him. He hadn’t been in the sun much; even on the good days in Summer, he had always been in the Grid or if on assignment, usually bundled up in a coat and shirt.
A boy and girl ran past him; the boy chasing the girl with what was in reality a piece of driftwood, but was in the boy’s imagination obviously, some sort of weapon going by the ‘kapow’ sounds that he was uttering. The girl was just laughing at him.
Part of him couldn’t help but wonder what operation Zoe and Danny were on now but most of him was happy he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know if they were making the same mistakes he did; he couldn’t have handled it if they were. This job got to everyone eventually. Some were lucky enough to get to retirement but in the end, it left its marks. It got to everyone.
There were three parrots in the tree above him. He’d been keeping an eye on them. They had kept coming back, day after day, always together. Until one day – today - only one had settled in the branches of the tree. Alone. Needing reinvention.
Author: Tali
Fandom: Spooks / MI5
Character: Tom
Rating: PG -13
Summary: It wasn't his sort of holiday
Spoilers: Set in the aftermath of 302
Disclaimer: Not mine. Belongs to the BBC, whom I adore.
A/N: First attempt at Spooks fic for
slodwick's picfor1000 challenge. 1000 words based on this pic:
Reinvention
It wasn’t his sort of holiday. He’d never been a ‘beach person’. He’d never really been a ‘holiday person’ when he got right down to it, but here he was anyway. Tom had thought it wise to get away from the type of person he thought he was. He’d been so sure before; now he just didn’t know.
It was a small island. Isolated, not nearly as tourist-y as the ones surrounding. He’d packed quickly, not knowing how long he would be gone; at the time not even knowing exactly where it was he would be going. He’d almost naively hoped he might find some peace here but the sound of the waves crashing only bought back the beach of just over a month ago. This one was covered in sand but the other one had been covered in stones that he had stumbled across on his way out to the sea. Away from Zoe and Danny, and from Harry, whose shoulder he had just planted a bullet in.
Harry. His mind went back to the events that put him on this beach. He knew Harry had no other option and that decommissioning him had been the only choice. He saw that now. He wouldn’t just get ‘back to normal.’ He knew that psychologically he couldn’t do his job any more. Practically his skills had been as good as they had ever been, but in the end it had all come down to what was in his head and a conscience many people thought he’d never even possessed.
Adam’s words the day that they had gone for drinks had been far more truthful than even Tom had realised at the time. It was different when they were telling lies about you. Very different. Pretending to be someone else wasn’t a problem, because you controlled the lies and the people around you, the people who cared about you, knew that this wasn’t the ‘real’ you. Amonth before, they didn’t know. For a while there, even he didn’t know. Someone else had been controlling the lies.
Tom had checked into the hotel under his real name. He’d seriously thought about a false one but in the end found he couldn’t stomach the thought of someone calling him, ‘Mr Palmer,’ or ‘Mr Hall’ all the time he was here. Lies.
He watched as a young boy played in the waves as his mother looked on. Carefree. Without fear. Or if there was fear, fear that he would get told off for not putting away his toys back in the hotel room before they went down to the beach, rather than the fear that a bunch of armed commandos would barge in and kill someone in the corner of the room you were sitting in, huddled in your mother’s arms.
It wasn’t easy to send people to ruin their lives. He’d never thought it had been, but he’d done it - for the good of the country. However, while he’d seen it happen, time and time and time again; the distrust, the deceit; their lives becoming almost unrecognisable from what they had been before, he’d never known what it was like. Now he knew.
Tom realised the effect that ‘they’ had on people’s lives. The effect his job had on his life.
A woman - not much more than a girl really - nineteen, maybe twenty, walked past him dressed in a sarong and a bikini top. She gave him a smile. Tom looked the other way.
He’d thought about ringing Ellie and telling her that the job was no longer a problem, but he hadn’t known if she’d take his call, or if he really wanted her to.
He’d even thought about calling Christine. Even thought about sending her a ticket. But he hadn’t known if she’d come, or if he really wanted her to.
Tom didn’t know if it was a good time to be around other people right now. Then again, he didn’t know if being alone was exactly the right thing for him either. He was glad the hotel had bungalows that were a little isolated from the main hotel and had gotten one, but then often took walks down the beach towards the hotel, like he was doing today. He couldn’t help but study them. Calculate their strengths and weaknesses. His training wouldn’t die away in a hurry.
A man sat not far from the beach just behind a rack of scooters that he hired to tourists wishing to drive around the island. The rack was full but he didn’t look perturbed. He just sat there, puffing on his pipe and enjoying the warmth of the sun.
Tom looked down at his arm. It was lit up by same tropical sunshine the man was enjoying and it looked almost alien to him. He hadn’t been in the sun much; even on the good days in Summer, he had always been in the Grid or if on assignment, usually bundled up in a coat and shirt.
A boy and girl ran past him; the boy chasing the girl with what was in reality a piece of driftwood, but was in the boy’s imagination obviously, some sort of weapon going by the ‘kapow’ sounds that he was uttering. The girl was just laughing at him.
Part of him couldn’t help but wonder what operation Zoe and Danny were on now but most of him was happy he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know if they were making the same mistakes he did; he couldn’t have handled it if they were. This job got to everyone eventually. Some were lucky enough to get to retirement but in the end, it left its marks. It got to everyone.
There were three parrots in the tree above him. He’d been keeping an eye on them. They had kept coming back, day after day, always together. Until one day – today - only one had settled in the branches of the tree. Alone. Needing reinvention.
