Fic: His last moments (The Magnificent Seven 2016)
Title:His last moments (one-shot)
Fandom:The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Characters:Joshua Faraday, Vasquez, Sam Chisolm, Goodnight Robicheaux, Billy Rocks, Jack Horne, Red Harvest
Pairings:Joshua Faraday/Vasquez, Goodnight Robicheaux/Billy Rocks
Rating:PG-13 (language)
Summary:Faraday's last thoughts.
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Homage to "Look at My Hands, Don't Look at My Hands" by kittikatthetacodemon on AO3.
Originally written in Nov 2016.
Genre:Angst, Slash
Warnings:Major character death (but not really), homage to another story but it should make sense as a standalone
Word count:400+
Note:Copying some of my docs from my external HDD, I found this baby. It's a brief homage for "Loot at My Hands, Don't Look at My Hands" by kittykatthetacodemon that can be found on AO3. God I love that AU, it's my favorite M7 headcanon.
This story was written in November 2016, with little in-depth research. If Faradays comes off as OOC because of the God scene, I have no excuse, feel free to light up the torches.
When you spot any idiom/word-order/word-choice mistakes, please feel free to point them out, my English is far from polished.
I welcome any feedback.
First story in my Journal!
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During Faraday’s last moments, a ray of sunlight hit the barrel of the Gatling gun and got in his eyes.
Shit,he thought can’t a man die with his eyes open?
Oh, well.He thought, and closed his eyes.
Faraday saw Red, his usual furrowed brows relaxed when he was peering into the distance, on the roof of the only lodging house in Rose Creek.
He saw Jack, a Holy lines on the tip of his tongue, darting on his dry lips quickly, to wet them, his intake of breath before he guided his companions onto spiritual thoughts, at least who could understand him or had any lick of spirituality left in them. Faraday’s reservoir of holy thoughts was emptier than a gambler’s pocket.
He saw Billy and Goody, sitting under the porch, the light of the room washing over them, painting them in amber hues. He saw Billy’s straight pine relaxing under the feather-light brush of Goodie’s fingers on his forearm. One would have said Goodie’s gesture was nothing short of unintentional, sprawled as he was on his chair, gesticulating as he talked to his companion. But Faraday, Faraday, he saw.
He saw Sam, and he saw himself reflected in Sam’s black eyes. How Sam Chisolm, Marshall etcetera, could look at a mess of a man, at the shadow of a man, and see someone worthy of his friendship, Faraday would never.
And finally, he saw Vasquez. God, Vasquez. Faraday realized that if there was a God up there, he couldn’t list his sins properly, since he didn’t even know Vasquez’ first name. Where did you put that particular sin anyway? Before or after killing and cheating?
Maybe it didn’t count as a sin, they didn’t do anything. They didn’t even say anything. It was just a thought, the seed of a thought, back in Faraday’s mind. Faraday wondered, if in the afterlife he could trick the Boss up there in looking somewhere else with his cards when that came up. His mind wasn’t a good place anyway.
During his last moments, Faraday didn’t think about telling Vas his thought, he didn’t try to imagine the Mexican’s reply. He thought about being up there, in front of the Great Judge, spinning his cards in his hands, the one-eyed Jack sporting a charred, bullet-shaped hole in the middle. He smirked, and murmured:
“I bet he would have said yes.”
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In his last moment Faraday forced his eyes open and found the smirk on his lips.
Shit,he thought I’m going to hell anyway ain’t I?
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