alexs_storybook (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alexs_storybook) wrote2012-01-09 11:28 am
alexs_storybook) wrote2012-01-09 11:28 am
Entry tags:
FIC: The Worst Day Since Yesterday (Babylon 5)
Title: The Worst Day since Yesterday
Author:alexcat
Type: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Garibaldi
Spoilers: Season 5
Notes: I adore Flogging Molly and I was listening to “The Worst Day Since Yesterday” and Michael popped into my mind. Sometimes, a song fic hits the spot.
Summary: Michael is pretty sure that when you think things can’t get worse, they will.
~~~
*
Well I know, I miss more than hit
With a face that was launched to sink
An' I seldom feel the bright relief
It's been the Worst Day Since Yesterday
~~ Flogging Molly
*
Michael Garibaldi knew that his life couldn’t get much worse. Having thought that, he was sure that it would. Get worse, that is. It usually did.
He rolled over and cringed as he heard the bottle he finished last night hit the floor and shatter into a thousand shards.
Dammit.
Now he’d probably cut his damned foot when he got out of the bed,
He sat up and put his head in his hands. Nausea rolled through him. Then the blinding pain as he opened his eyes. Was the relief the liquor gave him worth this?
Hell yeah.
Nothing could beat that sweet oblivion as the alcohol wiped everything clean. For a little while. Just for a little while.
He finally got the nerve to stand up. His headache went all the way to his toes. Holy crap!
He remembered everything… how he’d fucked up so badly. He’d cost lives! He’d let the people he loved down but … but…
He didn’t fucking care.
Not right now.
No one understood what it was like to be mind fucked by Bester. He wasn’t even in control of his own mind, for God’s sake. Anyone would drink to forget that, wouldn’t they?
Wouldn’t they?
The computer piped up in her cheerfully annoying voice and said there was a message from Lise Edgars.
Not her too. He didn’t want her to worry. He was ashamed for her to know.
Damn it to hell.
“Play message.” Might as well listen.
“Micheal, don’t be alarmed. You were on my mind. I just wanted to tell you that I love you.” She smiled that heart-melting smile and her image went dark.
“Double damn!” He yelled as he stepped on one of the shards of the glass from the liquor bottle he knocked over when he woke up. He hopped on one foot to the bathroom, trying to ignore the sword that was splitting his head in two.
When he got the bathroom, he looked in the mirror and saw the butt ugliest face he’d ever seen. He looked like he’d been dead for a month. Maybe he had. He rubbed his head and winced. The touch even hurt.
Finally he managed to step into the shower. The hot water ran over his body, washing away the blood and sweat, washing away the sin. He let it. No matter how bad he felt, he still had to try, to make the effort. To fight one more day.
He got out and dried off. He dressed and took a pill and groaned as it wasn’t even enough to completely eradicate his hangover but it would get him through the morning. Let the rest of the day take care of itself.
He tried to remember that Bible verse… how did it go?
Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
That was it… the evil thereof… that sounded about right.
He was ready to leave, to go to his meeting with Sheridan when he saw the unopened bottle of Irish whiskey he’d gotten from his cousin on earth, a cousin who didn’t believe that there was anything that a stiff belt wouldn’t fix. It was the Garibaldi code.
Just one drink before he had to answer a lot of questions. He’d take just one sip…
~the end~
Author:
alexcatType: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Garibaldi
Spoilers: Season 5
Notes: I adore Flogging Molly and I was listening to “The Worst Day Since Yesterday” and Michael popped into my mind. Sometimes, a song fic hits the spot.
Summary: Michael is pretty sure that when you think things can’t get worse, they will.
~~~
*
Well I know, I miss more than hit
With a face that was launched to sink
An' I seldom feel the bright relief
It's been the Worst Day Since Yesterday
~~ Flogging Molly
*
Michael Garibaldi knew that his life couldn’t get much worse. Having thought that, he was sure that it would. Get worse, that is. It usually did.
He rolled over and cringed as he heard the bottle he finished last night hit the floor and shatter into a thousand shards.
Dammit.
Now he’d probably cut his damned foot when he got out of the bed,
He sat up and put his head in his hands. Nausea rolled through him. Then the blinding pain as he opened his eyes. Was the relief the liquor gave him worth this?
Hell yeah.
Nothing could beat that sweet oblivion as the alcohol wiped everything clean. For a little while. Just for a little while.
He finally got the nerve to stand up. His headache went all the way to his toes. Holy crap!
He remembered everything… how he’d fucked up so badly. He’d cost lives! He’d let the people he loved down but … but…
He didn’t fucking care.
Not right now.
No one understood what it was like to be mind fucked by Bester. He wasn’t even in control of his own mind, for God’s sake. Anyone would drink to forget that, wouldn’t they?
Wouldn’t they?
The computer piped up in her cheerfully annoying voice and said there was a message from Lise Edgars.
Not her too. He didn’t want her to worry. He was ashamed for her to know.
Damn it to hell.
“Play message.” Might as well listen.
“Micheal, don’t be alarmed. You were on my mind. I just wanted to tell you that I love you.” She smiled that heart-melting smile and her image went dark.
“Double damn!” He yelled as he stepped on one of the shards of the glass from the liquor bottle he knocked over when he woke up. He hopped on one foot to the bathroom, trying to ignore the sword that was splitting his head in two.
When he got the bathroom, he looked in the mirror and saw the butt ugliest face he’d ever seen. He looked like he’d been dead for a month. Maybe he had. He rubbed his head and winced. The touch even hurt.
Finally he managed to step into the shower. The hot water ran over his body, washing away the blood and sweat, washing away the sin. He let it. No matter how bad he felt, he still had to try, to make the effort. To fight one more day.
He got out and dried off. He dressed and took a pill and groaned as it wasn’t even enough to completely eradicate his hangover but it would get him through the morning. Let the rest of the day take care of itself.
He tried to remember that Bible verse… how did it go?
Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
That was it… the evil thereof… that sounded about right.
He was ready to leave, to go to his meeting with Sheridan when he saw the unopened bottle of Irish whiskey he’d gotten from his cousin on earth, a cousin who didn’t believe that there was anything that a stiff belt wouldn’t fix. It was the Garibaldi code.
Just one drink before he had to answer a lot of questions. He’d take just one sip…
~the end~