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Part 16 of MiSS
Collections:
Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-04
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965
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1/1
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MiSS - Post Not Fade Away - A Place to Call Home

Summary:

Summary/TimeLine: Post-Not Fade Away. A lost soul finds his way back home.
Submitted through the BaskingInTheArmsOfTheHost mailing list.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Title: A Place to Call Home
Author: Mera
Feedback: Do it... you know you want to!
Rating: Something for all ages.
Characters: Lorne.
Pairing: None.
Series: Part of the Missing Scene Series but is in fact a stand-alone like all of them are.

Warning: Mention of character death.

 

Thanks to Farah for the quick beta!

*~*~*~*~*~*

A question needed answering and he couldn' answer it. Why? Why did he turn away?

Having answers was his job for so long that he now defined his life on that perception. He had the answers, or he could find them. He could make them if he was able to. He wanted to help. He didn' want to hurt anyone. He didn't belong, never did, not anywhere he had gone to. So, faced with something new, he made his own sanctuary, a place he called his own. It was his, his private place to do with as he pleased, and he helped all kinds of people there.

There, he met them. A group of mismatched souls that also never quite fit in. They all had burdens of their own to carry. Somehow, he felt connected to them. Responsible. They came to him, again and again, for guidance, a steady hand, a friendly grin and a kind helpful heart in a world they had chosen filled with demons that wanted them dead. He guessed he was a sign of the broken rule. He was always ready with a welcoming ear and a cold drink.

He went to them when he needed aid because he wanted to know what happened to their stories in this crazy world they called a life. They didn't make a living by doing it, not really, but they kept with it. Because it was right. They helped those who needed help ... the good people. That had made him think. Because he thought he was doing the same until he met them. He thought he was doing good. However, he had been lending guidance and his seeing eye freely, without any variation or how it might affect anyone's being except his own.

He began to know them, to care for them. And without realizing it, he was one of them. It might have taken him some time to get to that point but he did. He felt safe in the most hazardous of environments. It had always amused him in the worst way how those people had an unusual relationship with danger. Even at the end, he wasn't sure which one they had been, flame or moth. He had neutrally settled on both.

But that was then and this...

It was a complete circle. He had left this place knowing that wherever he would end up, it would be a good place. A better place than here. His own kind expected him to be like them yet he couldn't do what needed to be done to be accepted. He knew he was different even then. So, wherever he ended, he had promised himself when he was being pulled into that swirling vortex that first time, that no matter what happened, he wouldn't let someone force him into that act, be that person he didn't want to become. It would kill him inside. He would be like them, something he prided himself in not being.
'
He broke that promise.

He wanted to hate him for making him do it. It was the big man's job to complete, but he wouldn't give the human the satisfaction of being taken down. Nevertheless, as he walked this familiar dusty trail once more, he knew he didn't completely resent that man for his request. He was aware that it was a message to the victim of his lack of worth, a final revenge. Even now, he could imagine the hero's satisfied grin as he stood ready for the end battle, envisioning those last desperate feeble mortal breaths.

It had been their parting gift. Whatever that man who changed his life and so many others' asked of him he would do it, albeit begrudged. So he had, he asked the perfect person to finish the job. One who had had clean hands, who was weak, pathetic, worthless, all that would reflect on his unknowing prey.

He wanted to hate that request, who had presented it, what it had led to. But even then, he had seen it in that soul that had forgone the countless chances it was presented with, what its owner was going to.

He ended up hating himself.

And there was no place better than here to do that.

"Hello, mother."

Lorne's eyes and voice were dead as he stood wearing his homeland garments in front of his gaping mother. He knew killing Lindsey was for the best, he had read the human and saw what he would have done, the only path the man had drawn for himself. He just could not face Angel again knowing what he had done at the direction of the vampire. He knew why he turned away. He just wasn't willing to face it .

Lorne's mother gazed deeply at him before smirking. "I have known that Van-tal drokken killer would be good for you." He flinched. His mother threw her head back and yelled, "Numfar dance the dance of pride and rejoice! The prodigal son had retuned covered by a warrior aura, his own. Come Krevlorneswath proud warrior son of the Deathwok Clan to the hall of Drink and Chance and share with your fellow people how you slaughtered that cow swine in cold blood!"

Lorne let out a small mirthless smile and allowed his his mother to lead him. "Why, it's the homecoming I always dreamed of," he whispered an echo of his very words three years ago. "No place like home."

The End?

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author Mera.
If this work is yours and you would like to reclaim ownership, you can click on the Technical Support and Feedback link at the bottom fo the page.

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