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Retrospective: Water

Summary:

While contemplating an uncertain future, Harold expresses to John his thoughts about the past year.

Set in the first season. The title might mean a little more after reading than before.

Notes:

Well, this month's creative output didn't go quite as planned, but at least I managed to get a Christmas present out for y'all.

Since the year is closing out, let me take a moment to express my gratitude toward my fans. These include (but are not limited to):

Tipsylex, elbowsinsidethedoor, M_E_Lover, Ysad, DisposalUnit, Lisagarland, IMelopsittacus, MulaSaWala, dancing_dog, Glaskin4, kiranovember, shewillgivewater, sapphire2309, oddgit, Code16, and ElnaK

Some of you give kudos without ever talking to me directly (leaving comments), which is okay. I appreciate the support! I'm glad that my writing is something that you enjoy enough to read more of, and I hope this coming year brings even more engaging stories =^.^=

A very special thanks goes out to M_E_Lover, "my most enthusiastic fan"; without her encouragement, I'm not sure I would have made it this far -- and we've not only become friends, but encouraged each other in areas outside the fandom itself, which has been a blessing to me and, I hope, to her as well.

An additional thanks goes out to my beta reader, AreiaCananaid, whose typographical help isn't so important as her help at spotting oddities in my writing, and even that pales behind the +5 Morale Boost she offers. When my brain is convinced that the errors are all that matters, she helps me focus instead on what I'm doing right, and I'm glad to have her as a friend and helpmate.

Anyway, on with the tale!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“It’s been a good year,” Harold asserted with a sharp nod.

“Sure has,” John replied. “Kinda wish it could’ve gone on longer.”

“These past few months have been… frantic, and stressful, and… it’s been quite the balancing act, trying to get everything done without letting anyone down. Many times I felt ready to give up; sometimes it felt quite impossible.”

“Tends to happen when you expect too much of yourself.”

“It’s hard not to. There is so very much in my life to make up for… so many mistakes I’ve made, for so long. A year and a half ago, I was… basically just treading water. I was such a mess, John, you don’t even know -- ah, well, that is, of course you know what it’s like to--”

“Harold,” John murmured, dismissing Harold’s hasty self-correction.

“Yes. Well…” Harold took in a deep breath. “When you look at the past two years -- well, to be perfectly honest, it’s been going on much longer than that. But last year in particular, it felt like I couldn’t do anything right. I had all the info, I had the skills, the resources, but… I was letting everyone down. Letting myself down. And it wasn’t until I sought you out that things started falling into place. Before that… sometimes… it feels like I haven’t done a single worthwhile thing in my entire life.”

“You can’t possibly believe that. Not now.”

“Now that we’ve started this thing? I do feel that we’ve done good. Made an impact. Helped people. Provided some source of comfort during these trying times. I still can’t help but feel that we ought to be doing more, but… when I think of the false starts that I made in the past, it feels like they were leading up to the skills and the motivation I need now, in order to accomplish the work that we’re doing. And, sometimes, I can almost convince myself that the world is better for our having acted within it.”

“You’re just trying to delay the inevitable.”

“I know,” Harold said morosely, looking down into the swirling pool of icy waters beneath them. “You know, it’s been over a decade since I’ve done anything… adventurous, in the water. They tried to get me into one of those wave pools for physical therapy, and I… I lost it, if we’re being honest. I’m not entirely sure that I’ll be able to do this.”

“I’m here with you, Finch,” John said, his voice somewhere between confident and serious. “Just… take a deep breath, and remember the technique I showed you. Once you’re back to the surface, just try to float. I’ll find you. Do you trust me?”

“I… I know that I should trust you. Everything I’ve done this past year has been because of your help, and I know that you’re better at these kind of things than I am, and… and I’m prone to anxiety even when there’s no reason for it. And this situation in particular feels like there is a reason for it. But I want to trust you. It’s just… difficult, and… and frightening, when your assessment of the situation differs from my own to this degree.”

“Give yourself a little credit there, Finch. You’re the one who started all this. You drew me in, and if it hadn’t been for you, none of these adventures would have even been possible.”

“Nonsense. Someone else, surely--”

“Not like this.” John squeezed his shoulder, and Harold drew comfort from the firm pressure.

Drawing in another breath, he clutched at the railing. There wasn’t any way to go but down, down into the terror of the icy waters and the unknown future they held.

“I’ll be there with you,” John reassured him. “You’re not doing this alone.”

“I know.” The tears pricked at his eyes, tiny points of conduction in the frigid breeze. “John… if this ends tonight… I just want you to know, it’s been a most astounding honor to work beside you, doing what we do.”

“You know, it’s just going to get colder.”

Harold couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “Well… I guess the only thing left to say is, Merry Christmas!

And then he leapt.

Notes:

All right, now that you've read it through once, try it again. Only this time, substitute yourself for John, and me for Harold, and read a message of gratitude from me to you, my readers.

I'll wait.

=^.^=

 

In April, I joined AO3 and broke a hiatus of around 15 years, wherein I had written nothing regularly, nothing for publication, nothing that I was really proud of, nothing I could look back on and want to show people.

That's not entirely true. During that timeframe I did run a Shadowrun campaign for my friends, which included writing some personalized nightmares that I eventually posted to my DeviantArt account. I also found some short stories on my computer that I don't recall writing (although it's pretty clearly my writing), which appear to be from some pagefic challenge I set for myself. So some things did get written, and some I'm quite proud of.

But it's all very hazy and feels like walking through the desert, dried up and pointless, all that time wasted.

In my earliest memories, I self-identify as a writer. I've started countless projects, but get distracted easily. And near the end of college, some family issues seemed to just sap my creative energy and ramp up the part of my brain that does nothing but scream that my work isn't good enough. That's when I entered the desert, in the early 2000's.

But eventually, in October of 2016, I decided to take my YouTube channel seriously, posting content six days a week. That's the first time I've been able to maintain a schedule in well over a decade.

Around April, my friend pointed me at the POI fic Dangerous If Unbound. I don't think I'd read any D/s fics before it, and the very idea enthralled me. Now, I tend to avoid fics in fandoms I'm not familiar with, but the D/s setting gave me enough description to connect with the characters, and soon I was devouring any POI fics I could find.

At some point, I realized that I was in a unique position: I'd never been this enthusiastic about a fandom I hadn't yet seen, and I'd never gotten to know the characters before watching the show. I could write a fanfic before I'd even watched an episode! I wrote a chapter of Waif, a POI rapefic that I intend to eventually publish.

But then I ran across two fics that managed to hit the extreme ends of the rapefic spectrum: one going incredibly dark and graphic, and the other turning it into a no-big-deal consensual encounter. And I had mixed reactions to them; I do like darkfic (in small doses), and I don't think a rapefic should ever be an easy read (that's part of the point), but I kept thinking about them and realized that I could write a middle ground. That became On the Other Side of the Mirror, and got me to publish on AO3 much earlier than I had anticipated. (Also the reason that I haven't yet published Waif: I don't want two open rapefics at the same time.)

Almost immediately, I attracted fans, which shocked me; more than one have become actual friends, including an electronic pen pal. And the moment that meant the most to me, so far? One reader said she'd suffered a panic attack while reading Mirror, and kept reading, because it was helping her deal with the issues she had after going through a near-rape experience herself. Since my fondest desire for my writing is to affect people in a positive way, I can't say how much that means to me, that I helped someone.

So this message is for my fans, and I hope it comes across well.

Symbolism! The water is the uncertain future of my creative output; the "therapy pool" is the several times I tried NaNoWriMo (although I didn't freak out like Harold did -- I did actually complete the exercise multiple times, though I failed more often than I succeeded). John trying to encourage Harold is fan feedback reminding me that I'm capable, even as my brain claims otherwise. And Harold leaping into the water is accepting the task of writing for another year, to the best of my abilities.

I don't know how long I'll be interested in this fandom, or how long I'll be able to keep writing regularly, but it feels good to be a part of this, and I thank you all for your kind words and enthusiasm. May we have another creative year!