Atlas Shrugged, Dagny/Cherryl

[wrennette]

Title: A Time of Knowing
Fandom: Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand
Pairing: Dagny Taggert x Cherryl Taggert
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of Ayn Rand.
Summary: AU where instead of running off the edge of a bridge, Cherryl goes to Dagny when she discovers James with Lillian Reardon.
Notes: For those of you who haven't read Atlas Shrugged, this is not incest. Cherryl is married to Dagny's brother James.

crossposting at obscurefandoms rare_pair rareslash


Dagny jerked awake, dream fading into jumbled confusion. The doorbell jangled shrilly in the darkness, and she swung her feet over the side of the bed and flicked on her bedside lamp. Standing, she pushed her hair back from her face and reached for her robe, the soft grey silk swirling around her as she shrugged into it. Her feet whispered across the smooth floors of her apartment, and outside her window the night time city glimmered like a constellation. The bell shrilled again.

Not bothering with the peephole, Dagny threw the door open, half expecting it to be a messenger relaying some sort of emergency on the line. Instead, it was Cherryl, wet and shivering, expensive shoes scuffed as if she had walked ten miles. "Come in," Dagny said quickly, trying not to stare. Cherryl gave her a disgustingly grateful look, painfully different than the intent, intelligent looks they had shared earlier, and slipped past her into the apartment.

"Can I get you something?" Dagny asked gently, leading Cherryl to the sofa, and Cherryl didn't answer, just looked through Dagny like the other woman wasn't even there. Gently Dagny sat Cherryl down, then went to turn on the kettle. When she returned to the sitting room, Cherryl was at the window, fingers resting tentatively against the cool glass, staring out over the sparkling lights of the city. Silently Dagny looked out over the city, wondering what Cherryl saw, if she too saw Atlantis, sinking beneath the waves.

The kettle whistled sharply in the other room, jarring Dagny out of her contemplative reverie. She hurried into the kitchen, glancing back to see that Cherryl hadn't even flinched, didn't seem to have heard the kettle at all. With the deftness and economy of motion that exemplified all she did, Dagny set out a tray of little snacks, sweet fruits brought up from the south and cakes smuggled in from illegal bakeries in Europe. She laid these things with the tea pot and delicate porcelain cups on the table, then went to Cherryl's side, standing next to her in silent solidarity.

"He took Lillian Reardon to our bed," Cherryl said after a long time, her breath fogging the glass in front of her face. Dagny felt a silent cry of joy deep in her chest, but she said nothing, and after a while, Cherryl turned, and Dagny saw the silent tears that streaked down the girl's face. "I try - I try not to ask for much," Cherryl whispered, and Dagny knew, she knew as she had known earlier, that this girl was like her, this girl was one of the fighters, even though she had not yet realized that which she was fighting, or what she was fighting for.

Dagny slid their mouths together gently, a simple caress of acceptance, of acknowledgement. "Oh Dagny," Cherryl breathed against her lips, and Dagny kissed her again, her slender hand slipping to Cherryl's waist, feeling the rich quality of the suit she wore, the tensed strength of her body. "Don't go back," Dagny all but pleaded, and Cherryl sank against her, rich bronze hair resting on Dagny's shoulder. "I won't," Cherryl promised, "it would kill me, or drive me mad, or both. I just - we finally had out Dagny. I finally pushed him hard enough that he pushed back. Oh, Dagny!" She cried suddenly, clasping both of Dagny's hands in hers, "would that I had met you first! You or a good person like Mr. Villers. If I had to marry someone at Taggart, would that I had found him!"

Dagny smiled sadly, knowing the impossibility of changing the past, but understanding the naive sentiment. "Oh I know," Cherryl chided herself, hands dropping to hug her own waist as she glanced away from Dagny, "I know it cannot be changed now," she whispered, and gently Dangy pulled her close, wrapped her arms over Cherryl's around her waist. "Let me show you the way it is meant to be," Dagny offered, and Cherryl shivered in her arms, then turned and leaned up, kissing her sweet and innocent, hands coming up to wind in Dagny's silken hair. "I want to know everything," Cherryl breathed against Dagny's lips, and Dagny smiled warmly.

Comments

[norton-gale.livejournal.com]

You are awesome for slashing Atlas Shrugged - the way you characterized Dagny here was true to the original. Now will you write Howard Roark/Peter Keating? ;)

[norton-gale.livejournal.com]

Perhaps one of us will need to write it. ;)

[wrennette]

I would probably read it, and feel vaguely horrified with myself afterward, but I'm fairly positive I couldn't actually write it. I'll leave it for one of you ;)

[wrennette]

Wow, you're quick!

Thank you! I actually wrote with the book in front of me to make sure I was doing it right, because Ayn Rand would totally jump out her grave and kick my ass if I messed up too badly.

I actually have some other slashy ideas for Atlas Shrugged as well. I think Francisco d'Anconia and Hank Reardon is sort of a match made in heaven.

I can't bring myself to slash The Fountainhead. It is my absolute favorite book of all time, and I just can't change it. It's written in stone in my heart. Plus, none of them deserve Roark.

[wrennette]

now I'm going to have to go attempt this aren't I?

[norton-gale.livejournal.com]

The Fountainhead is one of my all-time favorite books as well. But I can easily imagine a desperate Peter Keating bargaining with Roark, at one point dropping to his knees and offering him a blow job, and Roark pulling back in disgust. ;)

You're right about D'Anconia/Reardon. Looking forward to reading that!