Watching, Deadwood, Prompt #49 - Aladdin

[meredevachon]

Title: Watching
Author: meredevachon
Fandom: Deadwood
Prompt #49: Aladdin
Rating: PG-13 (for language, but it’s a lot cleaner than the show)
Word Count: 746
Disclaimer: Deadwood, its characters and situations do not belong to me. This is all in fun and for love of the characters.
A/N: Wanted to test the waters in a different fandom, and sort of explore that world in a general sort of way.
Summary: The more you want, the more you watch.

~*~*~

We all come to Deadwood for a reason, ‘tho some had more say in the matter than others. But at the root of it, it’s all for want of something. This muck-filled, blood-stained camp seen as like the genie in Aladdin’s fuckin’ lamp with the power to grant wishes: the color that runs so rich and deep through the Hills, the fast buck or the overflowing coffers that follow found gold like ducklings after their mama, the second chance in a lawless land when others’ laws would’ve seen you hanged, the fresh start to see your worth. We all want what we don’t have – can’t have, maybe – and we think we can find it here in this godforsaken place called Deadwood.

We want. And we watch. Yeah, we drink and fuck and fight… and drive ourselves to an early grave more likely’n not, one way or t’other, but sure as the day is long and life is harsh, the more you want, the more you watch.

Swearengen struts along that balcony of his, tracking comings and goings – and the going rate for coming’s five bucks, two if she just gives you a hand, so don’t try to stiff him – and finding new ways to stir up the trouble he wants while wriggling outta any not of his making. Just a tiny, little king, losing his kingdom bit by bit, but by god, he’s gonna bugger the ones taking it from him. And Tolliver’s just the same, a little more polished maybe, but just as tarnished underneath. A matched set, the two of ‘em looking out over their railings across the thoroughfare at each other.

The womenfolk watch too, but what they want is harder to say. Mayhaps for them as much as anybody else. The Widow Garret stands at her window for long hours, above and apart from all us ordinary folk in more ways than one, longing for what? Independence? Happiness? Maybe Trixie knows. That Trixie sees more than most anyone, and when it comes down to it, she can be just as manipulative playing one person agin another as Swearengen at whose knees she probably learned the lesson. Then again, she’s done her fair share of handling him, so it might be as he thinks she learnt too well. As for what she wants… well, it seems fair to say she don’t wanna be a whore no more, ‘tho the way she wears her whoring like a fuckin’ medal is a mite contradictory, one could say. S’pose she wants to be more’n just some whore, and here’s where she’s gonna try to find out what.

Bullock watches with the eyes of a lawman – least ‘till his own madness blinds him, anyways – with justice or judgment for all he lays eyes on. He wants what he can’t have, not any more, and has what he only wants to want. And the more he watches, the more he sees hisself more and less the man he used to be. He came to Deadwood to leave being a lawman behind, but he sure picked up that shiny star up outta the muck quick enough. Course, that star’s not quite so shiny as it was once, and liable to get dirtier afore he gives it up or loses it.

And nobody watches more’n that miserable little cocksucker E. B. Farnum. But then, that’s probably ‘cause he wants more’n anybody. Always puttin’ on airs, but it don’t fool nobody. Skulking around the thoroughfare same as around his hotel, flat out spying on people, then turning what he sees – or thinks he sees – to his advantage. Well… he tries to. Way it usually plays out, he ends up beat for his troubles, and for his wagging tongue. But that don’t stop him none. He keeps on watching, and selling other people’s secrets for a few bucks or a pat on the head. Cozying up to the big shots makes him feel like less of a carbuncle and closer to a real live boy.

So yeah. We watch ‘cause we want, and want ‘cause we watch. But the thing we don’t see – ‘cause heaven knows, we don’t want to see it – is that genie’s all smoke and mirrors, a mirage in gold-laced mountains instead of desert Araby. Deadwood gives, and it takes away. Claims pinch out. Dice turn cold. You take that second chance, only to need a third that doesn’t come. Watching’s not enough, you see. Not enough by far.

fin

Comments

[lilithbint.livejournal.com]

very nice,
interesting view point and great portrayal of the characters.

[meredevachon]

Thank you.

This was another of those didn't go at all the way I thought it would pieces, but I did enjoy playing in a new sandbox for a time.

[thismaz.livejournal.com]

I don't know Deadwood, at all. But I love the rhythm and the pace of this. That first paragraph is magnificent, the way it hovers on the edge of poetry, not quite sure if it wants to tip over, or if it already has.
Lovely.

[meredevachon]

Thank you.

I devoured all 3 seasons of Deadwood in about a week, and wrote this in the middle of that time. The use of language in the show was very deliberate, and I can only hope I captured a little of its essence here.

[alphabet26.livejournal.com]

Oh, I adore Deadwood and this fic was just AMAZING. You hit the tone, the language, everything, it was PERFECT. Loved your take on those characters, just spot on and brilliant.

[meredevachon]

Thank you. I binged on all three seasons of Deadwood right before writing this (or maybe I wrote it during the binge... I can't rightly remember), and fell in love with the language and the raw grit of the world they lived in. You thinking I captured at least some of that makes me happy.