bagheera_san: (tiger woman)
[personal profile] bagheera_san
I've got a prompt game still running, so if you want to give me a prompt, please go here!

This is for [livejournal.com profile] aralias. It's very short, Katy, but if you give me a different prompt, maybe I can write you a longer Benny fic...

Fandom: Bernice Summerfield
Characters: Benny
Spoilers: This is set at some point after S11.
Prompt: "Fandom: Bernice Summerfield", "souvenirs/mementos"
Length: 323 words


Sometimes, on strange worlds, Benny picks up a stone (or a bone, or a piece of pottery or a gaudy tourist snow globe) and weighs it in the palm of her hand and thinks about taking it home with her to put on a windowsill or a corner of her desk.

Sometimes, when tasting strange and wonderful new foods, she thinks about asking for the recipe, so she can take it home and program the computer (or better yet, attempt to cook it herself, and fail miserably) so she can share it with her friends.

Sometimes, in yet another foreign city, she passes a shop that sells children’s toys, and thinks: Peter would like those blocks to play with, wouldn’t he?

Sometimes, when she opens the last door, and enters the inner sanctum hidden at the center of the maze, and finds treasures that no human eye has ever seen before, she finds a little statue, or an exquisitely painted vase, or a book in a language no living being remembers, she just knows that it would make Brax smile when she gives it to him for his collection.

And then she turns away and tries hard to busy herself with other things, because she has no home to go back to, no desk and no windowsill, no friends to cook for, and her son grew up on the run, and learned the hard way not to get attached to his toys, and it’s all Brax’s fault.

All I need, she reminds herself, is me. My mind, my body.

Benny used to keep diaries, and she still does. But only to help her think and remember, because even as she writes the words, she expects to lose the book, somewhere down the road. One day, perhaps, there’ll be someone she can tell her story, and unburden the pockets of her mind. Until then…

She keeps her bags light, and ignores the souvenir shops.

Date: 2012-09-11 06:44 pm (UTC)
ext_23799: (benny)
From: [identity profile] aralias.livejournal.com
this is very good too - nicely structured, and sad - in fact, both this and the other one you've written today are a bit.. adventurer weary after having gone too far. nicely thematic. i like a set. but hopefully the picard one i saw that you felt like writing will be happy. damn brax.

Date: 2012-09-12 09:52 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] bagheera-san.livejournal.com
Yeah, happy... well, it won't be awfully depressing (seriously, not even I would write TNG darkfic) like this one, I promise.

Date: 2012-09-15 04:00 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] x-los.livejournal.com
I really like these lines: "All I need, she reminds herself, is me. My mind, my body.

Benny used to keep diaries, and she still does. But only to help her think and remember, because even as she writes the words, she expects to lose the book, somewhere down the road."

Date: 2012-09-15 05:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] bagheera-san.livejournal.com
See, the first line is why in my opinion, this fic isn't THAT dark. Sure, Benny's life is awful at the moment, but she deals with it. And much better than certain Time Lords of her acquaintance, too.

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