Ficlet: Last Man Standing
So I just learned today (from patina106) that Pernell Roberts died last Sunday. Y'all probably know him better as Adam Cartwright from Bonanza.
I don't think I've even mentioned Bonanza on here before, as it's not a fandom I write or read fic in... but it's one of my favorite TV shows, for all that. I'm happy just to watch it, and don't feel any need to improve or expand upon it. And Adam was - is - my favorite character; ask anyone I know IRL about the black cowboy hat I wear winter and summer, the answer will start with "She likes Adam Cartwright." (I also have a black vest for the same reason, but I'm not quite as inseparable from it...)
Anyway, I was slightly surprised when I discovered I was writing Pernell/Adam a tribute fic. I didn't even think I could write tribute fic!
(I still don't know if I can. Is this any good?)
Title: Last Man Standing
Summary: Adam comes back home.
Notes: Gen. Not sure what to rate, as I guess it's kind of deathfic, though hopefully not the depressing kind...
The cold gray wind whistled thin and harsh over the prairie. The lake's surface riffled in the wind, and tall grasses whipped about the cuffs of the man's jeans.
He stood alone, not looking at the three graves that lay there - the first one flattened by time, but well-tended; the second and third still mounded, though grass grew over the mounds.
Memory's a funny thing, he thought. He'd never seen these graves in life, never gone back to the family ranch... but he knew them as well as that line of mountains.
He hadn't seen those, either, not in forty years.
"Forty-five years 's a long time, Adam," said a voice behind him.
We buried Hoss down by the lake. You know he always liked it there.
"It is," he agreed without turning. "So's thirty-seven."
"Now, Adam," and he knew if he turned he'd see Hoss's face scrunched up just like it used to be, when the big man was thinking hard, "you know that ain't fair. I didn't choose to leave. Now - I ain't saying you didn't have good reasons for stayin' away... but don't you think it mought be time to come home?"
Adam still didn't turn. "This isn't a dream, is it."
"I always knew you were a smart one, Adam," and the new voice was just as deep and resonant as ever. "No, it's not a dream, son."
Pa's grave is next to Hoss's, down by the lake. I thought he'd want it that way. I wish you could have been here...
"So this is supposed to be Heaven?" He'd always been one to speak his mind, and Ben had encouraged him in that. "Back together again, life on the Ponderosa like old times? That's not right, Pa... there has to be more to it than that. What about--" he hooked his thumbs into his gun belt, unsurprised to find himself wearing it, "what about the glory of the Lord and the New Jerusalem? Or at least the pearly gates?"
"You're not there yet, big brother."
This time, Adam did turn his head, to meet Little Joe's brash smile. Mr Cartwright, I regret to inform you that your brother Joseph died recently of...
Little Joe scrubbed his hat back and forward over his curly head, then settled it into place. "You gotta make a choice first. You can stop here - hang around with old days 'n' old memories - or come along with us up to the House." His tone made it clear he didn't exactly mean the Ponderosa. "Everybody's there, big brother. You were the last one to turn in - like usual." He grinned. "Just had to see the rest of us home, didn't'cha? Bossy old Adam, always gotta keep an eye on the young'uns!"
Adam laughed - and how long it'd been since he'd done that, he didn't even know. "You aren't as dumb as you act sometimes, little brother. C'mon, let's go."
Ben wrapped his arm around his oldest son's shoulders. "Rejoice and be glad," he quoted, "for this my son that was dead is alive again; he was lost, and is found."
And as the Cartwright family strode off up the hill together, the sun broke through the clouds to shine dancing on the lake by the four graves.
RIP Pernell Roberts, 1928-2010; Dan Blocker, 1928-1972; Lorne Greene, 1915-1987; Michael Landon, 1936-1991. Happy trails, guys.
I don't think I've even mentioned Bonanza on here before, as it's not a fandom I write or read fic in... but it's one of my favorite TV shows, for all that. I'm happy just to watch it, and don't feel any need to improve or expand upon it. And Adam was - is - my favorite character; ask anyone I know IRL about the black cowboy hat I wear winter and summer, the answer will start with "She likes Adam Cartwright." (I also have a black vest for the same reason, but I'm not quite as inseparable from it...)
Anyway, I was slightly surprised when I discovered I was writing Pernell/Adam a tribute fic. I didn't even think I could write tribute fic!
(I still don't know if I can. Is this any good?)
Title: Last Man Standing
Summary: Adam comes back home.
Notes: Gen. Not sure what to rate, as I guess it's kind of deathfic, though hopefully not the depressing kind...
The cold gray wind whistled thin and harsh over the prairie. The lake's surface riffled in the wind, and tall grasses whipped about the cuffs of the man's jeans.
He stood alone, not looking at the three graves that lay there - the first one flattened by time, but well-tended; the second and third still mounded, though grass grew over the mounds.
Memory's a funny thing, he thought. He'd never seen these graves in life, never gone back to the family ranch... but he knew them as well as that line of mountains.
He hadn't seen those, either, not in forty years.
"Forty-five years 's a long time, Adam," said a voice behind him.
We buried Hoss down by the lake. You know he always liked it there.
"It is," he agreed without turning. "So's thirty-seven."
"Now, Adam," and he knew if he turned he'd see Hoss's face scrunched up just like it used to be, when the big man was thinking hard, "you know that ain't fair. I didn't choose to leave. Now - I ain't saying you didn't have good reasons for stayin' away... but don't you think it mought be time to come home?"
Adam still didn't turn. "This isn't a dream, is it."
"I always knew you were a smart one, Adam," and the new voice was just as deep and resonant as ever. "No, it's not a dream, son."
Pa's grave is next to Hoss's, down by the lake. I thought he'd want it that way. I wish you could have been here...
"So this is supposed to be Heaven?" He'd always been one to speak his mind, and Ben had encouraged him in that. "Back together again, life on the Ponderosa like old times? That's not right, Pa... there has to be more to it than that. What about--" he hooked his thumbs into his gun belt, unsurprised to find himself wearing it, "what about the glory of the Lord and the New Jerusalem? Or at least the pearly gates?"
"You're not there yet, big brother."
This time, Adam did turn his head, to meet Little Joe's brash smile. Mr Cartwright, I regret to inform you that your brother Joseph died recently of...
Little Joe scrubbed his hat back and forward over his curly head, then settled it into place. "You gotta make a choice first. You can stop here - hang around with old days 'n' old memories - or come along with us up to the House." His tone made it clear he didn't exactly mean the Ponderosa. "Everybody's there, big brother. You were the last one to turn in - like usual." He grinned. "Just had to see the rest of us home, didn't'cha? Bossy old Adam, always gotta keep an eye on the young'uns!"
Adam laughed - and how long it'd been since he'd done that, he didn't even know. "You aren't as dumb as you act sometimes, little brother. C'mon, let's go."
Ben wrapped his arm around his oldest son's shoulders. "Rejoice and be glad," he quoted, "for this my son that was dead is alive again; he was lost, and is found."
And as the Cartwright family strode off up the hill together, the sun broke through the clouds to shine dancing on the lake by the four graves.
RIP Pernell Roberts, 1928-2010; Dan Blocker, 1928-1972; Lorne Greene, 1915-1987; Michael Landon, 1936-1991. Happy trails, guys.