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More or less random John Druitt introspection. Set before Haunted, but when I'm not sure.
Title: Devil's Bargain
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Sanctuary
Characters/Pairings: John Druitt, mention of Helen Magnus
Summary: He had thought it freedom, at first. A gift given without price
Wordcount: 613
Warnings/Notes: Strange. Warnings for John, of course
Disclaimer: Not mine
Title: Devil's Bargain
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Sanctuary
Characters/Pairings: John Druitt, mention of Helen Magnus
Summary: He had thought it freedom, at first. A gift given without price
Wordcount: 613
Warnings/Notes: Strange. Warnings for John, of course
Disclaimer: Not mine
Devil's Bargain
The cage within, the world without.
A freedom, he'd thought it. The first, perfect freedom, the world beneath his hand. No bonds that could hold him now, no doors that could bar his passage. No lock for which he was without key. The whole world, in all its many splendors, here, right here, always, for him. He need not even run. It was here, beneath his hand, should he so much as wish it.
It had been freedom, freedom of a kind he'd never known. A gift unsurpassed, from Helen's hand to his, a gift without price. She had given him, all unknowing, the whole world. Made him, all at once, untouchable. Free, in a way he could not explain, could not translate. How to explain how near the world to him, now? How to explain India a moment away, the South Seas a second, the garden beneath her window a fragment of time. How to explain a hand upon his coat, a hunter at his heels, to slip for a mere second, and never touch him again. How to explain the prisons and Bedlams of his childhood nightmares now no more than passing seconds, there and gone again the moment he wished it, never to hold him again, never to hold him at all.
Freedom, she gave him. Freedom from the thrall of fear and the laws of men. Freedom from justice, from terror, from the walls and waters that would close about his head. Freedom, she had offered him, all unwitting. Freedom, she had given, without price.
Or so he'd thought, at least. So he'd hoped. But in truth ... oh, but in truth, not so. Not for him. He should have realised. For all the world without, given with the press of a needle and the fierce curiosity in her gaze, for all the world offered for him to hold beneath his hand, there came a price. Always a price. Had he not read enough of devil's bargains to know that?
And it was the Devil in this deal. It was the darkness that stole inside his offered freedom, and closed red cages across his heart. The world without, the cage within. The monster creeping in the shadows of his heart, and making of his freedom a nothing. Making him to run, and run, and never again be free. Making him leap and spin, flee the snatches of the devil's hands against his coat, run through the whole world, and never, never, never get away. Never escape the liquid chains that bound him, red and glistening in the darkness. The Devil, Jack the Ripper, John Druitt. Untouchable, bowed under by the touch within him.
The monster was not Helen's doing, the devil something he must have carried within the cage of his heart for long years, never knowing. Not her doing, no. But to free John Druitt was to free the monster in his heart. To make him untouchable by the laws of men was to shatter the laws around his soul. To make for him a key to all the world, was to make for the demon a doorway unto it. And so, in freeing him, she had freed the Devil too, and from that devil even John could not run. Even he could not escape.
She had placed all the world beneath his hand, that he might never be caged. She had opened the monster in his heart, that he might never be free. All unwitting, never knowing until too late. A gift given without price, never knowing the cost.
The cage within, the world without. The perfect devil's bargain. And had John left the tears, he would weep for it.
But he had not.
The cage within, the world without.
A freedom, he'd thought it. The first, perfect freedom, the world beneath his hand. No bonds that could hold him now, no doors that could bar his passage. No lock for which he was without key. The whole world, in all its many splendors, here, right here, always, for him. He need not even run. It was here, beneath his hand, should he so much as wish it.
It had been freedom, freedom of a kind he'd never known. A gift unsurpassed, from Helen's hand to his, a gift without price. She had given him, all unknowing, the whole world. Made him, all at once, untouchable. Free, in a way he could not explain, could not translate. How to explain how near the world to him, now? How to explain India a moment away, the South Seas a second, the garden beneath her window a fragment of time. How to explain a hand upon his coat, a hunter at his heels, to slip for a mere second, and never touch him again. How to explain the prisons and Bedlams of his childhood nightmares now no more than passing seconds, there and gone again the moment he wished it, never to hold him again, never to hold him at all.
Freedom, she gave him. Freedom from the thrall of fear and the laws of men. Freedom from justice, from terror, from the walls and waters that would close about his head. Freedom, she had offered him, all unwitting. Freedom, she had given, without price.
Or so he'd thought, at least. So he'd hoped. But in truth ... oh, but in truth, not so. Not for him. He should have realised. For all the world without, given with the press of a needle and the fierce curiosity in her gaze, for all the world offered for him to hold beneath his hand, there came a price. Always a price. Had he not read enough of devil's bargains to know that?
And it was the Devil in this deal. It was the darkness that stole inside his offered freedom, and closed red cages across his heart. The world without, the cage within. The monster creeping in the shadows of his heart, and making of his freedom a nothing. Making him to run, and run, and never again be free. Making him leap and spin, flee the snatches of the devil's hands against his coat, run through the whole world, and never, never, never get away. Never escape the liquid chains that bound him, red and glistening in the darkness. The Devil, Jack the Ripper, John Druitt. Untouchable, bowed under by the touch within him.
The monster was not Helen's doing, the devil something he must have carried within the cage of his heart for long years, never knowing. Not her doing, no. But to free John Druitt was to free the monster in his heart. To make him untouchable by the laws of men was to shatter the laws around his soul. To make for him a key to all the world, was to make for the demon a doorway unto it. And so, in freeing him, she had freed the Devil too, and from that devil even John could not run. Even he could not escape.
She had placed all the world beneath his hand, that he might never be caged. She had opened the monster in his heart, that he might never be free. All unwitting, never knowing until too late. A gift given without price, never knowing the cost.
The cage within, the world without. The perfect devil's bargain. And had John left the tears, he would weep for it.
But he had not.
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