gloss: (Gabe and Peggy: second lives)
From: [personal profile] gloss
Prompt: there's opportunity with every breath

Let the hour grow late, dwindled down into the depths, and the club becomes Gabe's whole world. The band is shrieking and wailing, cooing and jiving, caught in the music and trying like hell to keep up.

Any way you count it, he shouldn't be here. He ought to be fifteen years dead: face-down in the Appenine snow, smashed to bits in Arnhem, swept away from God and man in Narvik's tide. Cold and gone.

Horn hot in his hands, lips gloriously numb, music swirling faster than air, he blows his heart out. Every grateful breath gets him farther away.
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