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Apr. 17th, 2004 02:45 pmTitle: Grief Knits Two Hearts
Author: Bartleby
Fandom: The Dark Tower
Pairing: Eddie Dean/Roland of Gilead
Rating: G
Summary: The Gunslinger wants to love…
Feedback: Please.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Stephen King, I don’t own them and I am not making any money off of them
Grief Knits Two Hearts
Roland hadn’t put his hands on anyone the way he put them on Eddie Dean for more and longer than he cared to admit. Eddie rolled into his arms and Roland took him quite willingly. He was crying, shaking for wont of a "fix", grief, fear, things Roland couldn’t even begin to guess.
He had forgotten what it was to have such emotion laid open, just so; plain on his face and in his eyes. Court’s well meaning, brain jarring cuffs had knocked almost all emotion from him, save the strange stilted formality of the High Speech and an odd calculating coldness that was so empty it almost made the full circle back into feeling. A void filled with lead and gunpowder.
And Eddie Dean, a gunslinger with none of the proper training, the breeding, the blood, had chosen him.
He cradled Eddie gingerly against his chest, mindful of his missing fingers, and for the first time since he stood over Cuthbert a lifetime ago, Roland of Gilead wept.
~Fin
Author: Bartleby
Fandom: The Dark Tower
Pairing: Eddie Dean/Roland of Gilead
Rating: G
Summary: The Gunslinger wants to love…
Feedback: Please.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Stephen King, I don’t own them and I am not making any money off of them
Grief Knits Two Hearts
Roland hadn’t put his hands on anyone the way he put them on Eddie Dean for more and longer than he cared to admit. Eddie rolled into his arms and Roland took him quite willingly. He was crying, shaking for wont of a "fix", grief, fear, things Roland couldn’t even begin to guess.
He had forgotten what it was to have such emotion laid open, just so; plain on his face and in his eyes. Court’s well meaning, brain jarring cuffs had knocked almost all emotion from him, save the strange stilted formality of the High Speech and an odd calculating coldness that was so empty it almost made the full circle back into feeling. A void filled with lead and gunpowder.
And Eddie Dean, a gunslinger with none of the proper training, the breeding, the blood, had chosen him.
He cradled Eddie gingerly against his chest, mindful of his missing fingers, and for the first time since he stood over Cuthbert a lifetime ago, Roland of Gilead wept.
~Fin