fanfic100 / 071 broken
Title: Pieces Parts
Fandom: Roswell
Characters: Isabel Evans
Prompt: 071. Broken
Word Count: 596
Rating: G
"You know what? I can't take this anymore. I'm leaving! I've got to go to work." Jesse wrenched the door open and stalked out.
Stone-faced, Isabel listened to the car start up and fade into the distance. The barest flick of her hand and the door slammed shut. Her fingers twitched and a vase flew from its place on the table to shatter against the wall. Next was a picture from their wedding, silver-framed and smiling, they looked so happy. It infuriated her. It spun through the air, sparkling and bright, and embedded itself next to the window.
Wind pushed up through the floorboards, from cracks in the walls, from nowhere. Isabel's hair snapped against her cheeks as the cyclone gained force and spun around her. More items whipped across the room, smashed into pieces.
Her eye fell on an antique wooden clock occupying the place of honor on the coffee table. WIth a vicious scream, it rose off the table and slammed into the door. The case broke open, spilling tiny gears and springs out onto the carpet. It chimed, once, a falling cry.
The wind stopped and Isabel stared at the wreckage surrounding her. She dropped to her knees, sobbing. Her eyes inched along the floor, gaze finally settling on the clock. It had belonged to Jesse's great-grandmother. A wedding gift. From my happy home to yours, she had said, pride roughening the edges of her voice. Be good to my boy. Be good to him.
Isabel broke. She crawled to the wall, paying no attention to the glass biting her knees and palms. The wood had splintered and cracked, the silver face was bent. The inner workings lay scattered, lost in nap of the rug.
She gathered up the pieces, trying to fit them together, somehow. Her hands shook over the ruined mechanism, she couldn't concentrate enough to force it back. It was too complicated. She had destroyed it.
That's how Kyle found her--crouched over the wreckage of Jesse's clock, crying.
"Is...Is, what's wrong?" He surveyed the damage to the living room. "Are you ok? Who did this? We've got to--"
"Kyle, no. No. I--It's..." Isabel couldn't explain. Didn't want to. She stood up, suddenly embarassed. "I--I did this. Let things get a little out of hand." She tried to smile.
He looked at her, a host of emotions playing across his face. "Well, can I help you clean up? I'm not much with the..." He wiggled his fingers. "But I'm ace with a broom." Kyle cracked his knuckles.
Isabel actually managed a grin. "I think I can take care of most of it. Except," she looked down at her hands, still holding the bits that used to be the clock. "Except this. I screwed up. Bad. It's a family heirloom and I can't get it back together." She sniffled, tears threatening.
Kyle cradled her hands in his, staring intently at the broken pieces. He looked up and smiled. "I can fix it. The mechanism, anyway. Can you take care of the case?"
She looked away, suddenly shy. His calloused palms felt rough against her fingers, strong. Comforting. "I think I can probably manage that."
"Ok. Why don't we take this to the kitchen table? I'll need some room to work." He laughed nervously and pulled his hands away. "I sound so professional, don't I?"
"It's ok, Kyle. I trust you. And...thanks."
"Hey," he grinned, "that's what us human lackeys are here for, right? No problem, Isabel. No problem at all." His eyes were full. "So. Where do you keep your broom?"
Fandom: Roswell
Characters: Isabel Evans
Prompt: 071. Broken
Word Count: 596
Rating: G
"You know what? I can't take this anymore. I'm leaving! I've got to go to work." Jesse wrenched the door open and stalked out.
Stone-faced, Isabel listened to the car start up and fade into the distance. The barest flick of her hand and the door slammed shut. Her fingers twitched and a vase flew from its place on the table to shatter against the wall. Next was a picture from their wedding, silver-framed and smiling, they looked so happy. It infuriated her. It spun through the air, sparkling and bright, and embedded itself next to the window.
Wind pushed up through the floorboards, from cracks in the walls, from nowhere. Isabel's hair snapped against her cheeks as the cyclone gained force and spun around her. More items whipped across the room, smashed into pieces.
Her eye fell on an antique wooden clock occupying the place of honor on the coffee table. WIth a vicious scream, it rose off the table and slammed into the door. The case broke open, spilling tiny gears and springs out onto the carpet. It chimed, once, a falling cry.
The wind stopped and Isabel stared at the wreckage surrounding her. She dropped to her knees, sobbing. Her eyes inched along the floor, gaze finally settling on the clock. It had belonged to Jesse's great-grandmother. A wedding gift. From my happy home to yours, she had said, pride roughening the edges of her voice. Be good to my boy. Be good to him.
Isabel broke. She crawled to the wall, paying no attention to the glass biting her knees and palms. The wood had splintered and cracked, the silver face was bent. The inner workings lay scattered, lost in nap of the rug.
She gathered up the pieces, trying to fit them together, somehow. Her hands shook over the ruined mechanism, she couldn't concentrate enough to force it back. It was too complicated. She had destroyed it.
That's how Kyle found her--crouched over the wreckage of Jesse's clock, crying.
"Is...Is, what's wrong?" He surveyed the damage to the living room. "Are you ok? Who did this? We've got to--"
"Kyle, no. No. I--It's..." Isabel couldn't explain. Didn't want to. She stood up, suddenly embarassed. "I--I did this. Let things get a little out of hand." She tried to smile.
He looked at her, a host of emotions playing across his face. "Well, can I help you clean up? I'm not much with the..." He wiggled his fingers. "But I'm ace with a broom." Kyle cracked his knuckles.
Isabel actually managed a grin. "I think I can take care of most of it. Except," she looked down at her hands, still holding the bits that used to be the clock. "Except this. I screwed up. Bad. It's a family heirloom and I can't get it back together." She sniffled, tears threatening.
Kyle cradled her hands in his, staring intently at the broken pieces. He looked up and smiled. "I can fix it. The mechanism, anyway. Can you take care of the case?"
She looked away, suddenly shy. His calloused palms felt rough against her fingers, strong. Comforting. "I think I can probably manage that."
"Ok. Why don't we take this to the kitchen table? I'll need some room to work." He laughed nervously and pulled his hands away. "I sound so professional, don't I?"
"It's ok, Kyle. I trust you. And...thanks."
"Hey," he grinned, "that's what us human lackeys are here for, right? No problem, Isabel. No problem at all." His eyes were full. "So. Where do you keep your broom?"