Writings and Ramblings

Doctor Who Fic: Happy Medium

2006-07-28T20:34:59Z

Title – Happy Medium.
Rating – PG
Spoilers – The new series. Season 1. Episode 1.
Summary – She saw the end of the world... Post End Of The World.
Disclaimer – Don't own 'em, wish I did.
Beta - [Bad username: ]alysbowie]

The chips were too greasy, but she hadn't really noticed until she'd finished half of them and the strange hunger that had consumed her and half of the greasy chips had loosened its hold. The Doctor didn't seem to mind the oiliness, happily munching on the quickly diminishing pile in front of him. She opened her mouth to speak a few times, but thought better of it. She was still unsure of her place in this adventure she'd been swept up in. Though it felt like a lifetime had passed since the shop cellar, she could still feel his hand tugging at hers, could still hear his voice in her ear. Run.

"Go on," he said without looking up from his plate. The voice was gruff, but held a reluctant tenderness. She forced herself to remember that he'd been the one to ask her to travel with him. "Out with it."

"Just thinking," she replied carefully, eyes fixed firmly on her fingers, watching as they decimated an innocent chip. "About something someone once said to me." He was looking at her now; his eyes burned the top of her head. Vaguely she wondered if he could shoot lasers out of his eyes, like Superman or something.

"Never get into cars with strange men?" Rose looked up long enough to match his grin. She sat up in her chair and wiped the grease off her fingers as best she could with a useless napkin. She continued, more confident now that she had the blessing of his humour.

"No, but that's good advice. I'll 'ave to remember that in the future." Might save me from a lethal sun tan, she thought but didn't add. She didn't think they were ready to laugh about that yet. "Someone told me once that if you look at the big picture, nothing we do matters, that everything we do just ends up as dust in the end. And that if you look at the little picture, today, tomorrow, next week… life has no real purpose. They say that you have to look at the medium, the next century, or something like that because otherwise life seems pointless."

She took a bite of a cold chip, the grease more pronounced now. She willed him to understand her distress. He had shown her the big picture, the very big picture. How could she imagine her life mattered when she'd seen the end, the very end, of the world?

The Doctor was silent. After a few moments, Rose looked up. His eyes were unfocused, as though he was trying to see something beyond her head, beyond the wall behind her, beyond everything. She took the opportunity to study him. This strange man who grinned but never smiled; whose ship was inside her head, moving things around. She imagined she could feel it, a sort of itching that wasn't.

"There's a point," he finally said, "in the future, near the end, where time doesn't matter all that much, and all the todays, the yesterdays, the tomorrows, they all come together." His eyes still looked passed her and she could almost understand what he was saying. Then he blinked and focused on her, and the spell was broken.

He grinned again, showing all his teeth. There was something caught between two of them, which made Rose smile. It made him less god-like, more mortal, more like her.

"Ready to go?" She asked. She didn't think it was possible, but his grin widened.

He stood and offered her his hand; she took it and stood as well. The oil from the chip made their hands fit together in a new interesting way. They'd wash their hands when they got back to the TARDIS, then they'd be off. Somewhere new, exciting… and fantastic.

Doctor Who Drabble: Positions

2006-07-28T20:33:59Z

Title – Positions
Rating – PG-13
Spoilers – The new series. Season 1.
Summary – They all had their favorite positions.
Disclaimer – Don't own 'em, wish I did.
Pairing – Rose/Jack/Nine
Beta - alysbowie

Positions.

Jack's favorite position was in bed, all of them sweaty, happy and sleepy. His head on Rose's chest, low enough so his breath didn't cause her nipple to harden, his hand cupping her breast, the Doctor spooning him from behind, arm around his waist.

Rose liked dozing on the couch, head on one lap, feet on another, an old blanket covering the bits in between. It didn't matter who was where, as long as they were both there.

The Doctor preferred any position which allowed him to watch over them, to make sure that they're happy and safe, and his.

FIC: Acceleration In Circular Coordinates. [Seven/B'Elanna]

2006-07-28T20:33:15Z

Title: Acceleration In Circular Coordinates.
Author: DZ_Crasher
Fandom: Star Trek Voyager.
Pairing: B'Elanna/Seven
Word Count: Over 800
Category: Romance
Disclaimer: Not mine, no really... they're not.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In which nothing dramatic happens but Seven and B'Elanna get together anyway.
Authors notes: People can usually excuse their behavior, especially when it doesn't make sense to them. No sudden flashes of understanding, no internal monologue explaining your every desire. Sometimes its just a gradual acceptance of what has always been there.
Written for: newbie_2u, for the femslash_today Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines Ficathon.
Request: Seven/B'Elanna, "a story that focuses on Seven and B'Elana realizing that they have more in common than not. That their fighting was comparable to pulling pigtails in a schoolyard. But I want Janeway to do her best to dissuade the freindship/romance for purely selfish reasons. Look into the fact that she wants to keep them apart even though she herself won't try to woo either one of them." I hope this fits the bill.

B'Elanna watched as Seven shifted her weight, forward than back, releasing an audible breath through her nose. She'd been doing this at decreasing intervals for the past half hour and it was getting on B'Elanna's last nerve. She'd been working on an idea to improve warp core efficiency and had been running a few computer simulations when Seven had waltzed into Engineering like she owned the place and started work on an adjacent work station. B'Elanna had refused to be chased away and continued working, stubbornly ignoring the ex-drone beside her, or trying to anyway. Seven breathed again.

'That's it!' B'Elanna fumed. 'How can I get any work done with that Borg constantly distracting me!?'

"Is there a problem?" Her tone was as cold as she could get it, but Seven didn't seem to notice.

"No Lieutenant." B'Elanna looked over at the former drone and was almost shocked to see that the normally pale face was flushed, the lips tighter than usual, her whole expression seemed pinched.

"Are you sure?" she asked, stopping herself from saying, 'you don't look so good.'

"The doctor has modified my nutritional intake," Seven admitted. "It is causing some abdominal discomfort."

"You have a stomach-ache because of something you ate?" As she said those words she felt a surge of protectiveness that was mercilessly beat down by her very active dislike of this borg. "Why don't you go to sickbay?" she asked dismissively, turning back to her work station, already forgetting the pinched, pained look on Seven's face.

"The Doctor said it was expected, that it would pass and I should just 'ride it out'" Again that little maneuver which had coaxed B'Elanna's outburst from her.

"Go to my office, sit down and put your feet up." The words were out before B'Elanna even realized she'd thought them. "It might help." Well she couldn't take them back now; all she could do was hope Seven refused her offer.

Seven for her part looked just as shocked as B'Elanna felt. The fact was B'Elanna had simply gotten distracted, and had forgotten she was talking to the ex-drone; it was an offer she would have made to any of her crew.

"I must finish these computations." Seven finally replied and turned back to her work. B'Elanna huffed and handed her an empty PADD. Not wanting to encourage the ex-borg but refusing to be rejected with such a flimsy excuse. The next wave of abdominal discomfort seemed to make up Seven's mind. Without even a 'thank you' she transferred her work to the PADD and walked into the chief engineer's office.

"Finally, some peace and quiet," B'Elanna mumbled under her breath, looking around to make sure no one had noticed the exchange. If anyone did, they were smart enough to pretend otherwise.

Hours later, tired and annoyed, B'Elanna gave up. She couldn't get her idea to work. Whenever she fixed one problem in the formula, it caused another one. She felt as if she'd just spent half the day chasing her own tail. She stretched, yawning, and shook her head to clear it of the mental static she had built up. She didn't have long before her shift ended, not enough time to start a new project and anyway she had some paperwork due.

She turned to her office, took one step towards it and froze. The door was closed. B'Elanna always kept the door open, to encourage people to come talk to her if they had any problems or ideas. The closed door didn't immediately register as anything other than wrong, then B'Elanna remembered sending Seven to put her feet up. Was she still there? She wondered, annoyance surging back. Well no Borg was going to assimilate her office. B'Elanna marched up to the door which opened automatically when she neared. Having prepared herself for the possibility of having to force it open B'Elanna almost stumbled the last few steps into her office. Inside it was dark, B'Elanna's instincts made her hold off telling the computer to raise the lights. Her half Klingon eyes quickly adjusted to the near twilight. Outlines formed as B'Elanna looked around, then details followed.

Seven was sitting behind her desk, feet up like B'Elanna had told her, and hanging cautiously over a corner. Her head was lowered; intent on the PADD B'Elanna assumed was in her lap. Nothing seemed out of place, even the mess of PADDs she had left scattered on her desk had not been touched. Seven had hung her feet over the only corner free of them, the corner where B'Elanna placed her cup of tea, or coffee when she worked late or early.

So intent was she in her inspection that several moments passed before she realized that Seven was not, in fact, reading, but was actually dozing.

Seven was sleeping in her office, in her chair! But no matter how she tried she could not feel more than slight annoyance at the sight. It's not like the same thing hadn't happened to her, more than once. The annoyance inside her suddenly felt more like exhaustion. She decided to let this one go. She was too tired to deal with Seven right now.

B'Elanna moved toward Seven's feet and pushed them off the table, causing them to thump loudly on the carpeted floor. Seven sat up suddenly, blinking her disorientation. B'Elanna casually leaned against the corner she had just forcefully vacated.

"Sleep well?" she asked, nothing in her voice but the weariness she felt in her bones.

Seven blinked a few more times before looking at B'Elanna. "I was not sleeping." There was a hoarseness to her voice which contradicted her words. "I was," she cleared her throat, a very un-Seven like gesture. "I was merely recharging my optical implants."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "You were just resting your eyes, sure. How's your stomach?"

Seven placed her human hand on her abdomen, as though she'd forgotten it was there. "I no longer feel any discomfort lieutenant."

B'Elanna stood and looked down at Seven. "Good, so get out of my chair."

Seven looked as though she'd just realized where she was. "I apologize lieutenant," she said briskly. The PADD on her lap had fallen when she'd sat up, now she bent over to retrieve it, then she stood and moved to leave. "Thank you lieutenant," she said, pausing in the doorway, the light from the outside only making her a black silhouette. Then she was gone. B'Elanna sat down in her chair, the residual heat from Seven's body making her squirm. It was an hour later when she put down the final report she had to write that she realized she was still sitting in the dark.

Seven poked at the green substance which seemed to have grown on her plate. Supposedly it contained all the nutrition her body required and could not receive from regeneration. The doctor had insisted on weaning her off the nutritional supplement drinks and on to solid food, a process which Seven was finding very unpleasant. She still experienced abdominal discomfort after meals that was accompanied by fatigue as her body was forced to first break down the solid matter and only then retrieve the nutrients It was all very inefficient and Seven found it distasteful.

"May I join you?" Seven did not need to look up to know that the person addressing her was Captain Janeway, neither did she need to respond as the Captain sat down without pausing.

The solids on The Captain's plate seemed even less appetizing to Seven than what was on her own. Seven prodded the green substance again.

"It won't bite back," the Captain said in a tone Seven recognized as amused.

"It is offensive," Seven replied and put her fork down.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," the Captain said loading another forkful from her own plate. Seven said nothing. The captain sighed and put down her fork. Seven prepared herself from a lecture. "You need to be able to draw nutrients from solid food Seven," the Captain explained. "What if you're on an away mission and don't have access to your alcove or nutrient drinks?" The Captain picked up the fork again, meaning the lecture was over. "We can't have you falling apart because you're a picky eater."

Seven raised her optical implant. The Captain had not told her anything she did not know, however for some reason the solids seemed less unappetizing and the future side-effects less daunting. Seven picked up her fork.

A sudden burst of merriment from one of the nearby tables distracted her. She looked over to see Lieutenant Torres and Ensigns Paris and Kim. Ensign Paris was making broad gestures while talking emphatically, he put his hands on the table and leaned forward, saying something which generated laughter from his companions.

"I'm surprised to see you in the mess hall," the Captain said, returning Seven's attention to her food.

"There is no replicator in Astrometrics," Seven replied taking a small bite of food, which was once again as unappetizing as ever.

Later in Astrometrics the effects of even the meager amount Seven had managed to ingest was noticeable. Remembering Lieutenant Torres' remedy Seven tried to find a place to sit down and elevate her feet, but she could not find a suitable position in Astrometrics, nor could she find one in cargo bay 2. This lack of control over her body was distasteful, but the inability to improve her situation was completely unacceptable. Briefly she thought of asking the Captain for the use of her ready room, but found she did not wish to bother the Captain for difficulties arising from her 'picky eating'. She avoided thinking of going to sick bay; the doctor had not seemed sympathetic to her plight either. Seven wondered if Lieutenant Torres would allow the use of her office again. Though the lieutenant had always reacted to her with hostility she had not dismissed her discomfort outright. However the possibility that the kindness she had shown her was a singular event and would not be repeated made Seven hesitate.

A sharp pain in her abdomen urged her forward. Seven attempted to think of something that could influence Lieutenant Torres but could not come up with anything that would yield immediate results. She walked into engineering and looked around for the chief. The lieutenant was near the warp core, talking to one of the other engineers. Seven headed towards them, still unsure of what to say that would not upset the other woman. She paused a short distance from her and waited, ships business took precedence over personal discomfort.

Lieutenant Torres kept glancing her way but did not verbally acknowledge her until she'd dismissed the crewman.

"Stomach bothering you again?" she said as she brushed passed Seven and walked around the warp core forcing Seven to follow her.

"Yes," Seven confessed. "I wish to use your office again for recuperative purposes." Seven knew it was the wrong way to ask, but could not think of the correct protocol.

"What's wrong with Astrometrics?" Lieutenant Torres asked, still not looking at her.

"There is no suitab-"

"Why haven't you talked to the doctor or the Captain?"

'So she is no longer sympathetic to my discomfort,' Seven thought. The realization brought of flash of distress which Seven ruthlessly repressed. She reminded herself that this scenario had been far more likely than any other, that this discomfort was not life threatening and would eventually pass, that she was Borg and would adapt. "I did not wish to bother them, I apologize for taking up your time," she turned to leave when Lieutenant Torres called her back.

"I didn't say you couldn't," she said looking at her over her shoulder, she jerked her head towards her office. "But you owe me."

Seven nodded seriously. "Indeed Lieutenant. I am in your debt."

It seemed to Seven that her new dietary regime was color-coded and today was brown, brown and oozing. The thought of eating made her stomach ache in anticipated discomfort. She now found her work also suffering at the beginning of her shift, the mid-day meal looming like an unavoidable disaster. She contemplated telling the doctor and the Captain that she could no longer function in this manner, but the thought of admitting defeat to them was enough to get her to raise the fork to her mouth.

"That doesn't look very good," Seven halted the journey of her fork with relief and surprise.

"Lieutenant Torres," Seven replied putting down her fork. "How may I be of assistance?"

Lieutenant Torres was holding a tray with two bowls and a plate of something Seven recognized as crackers. "Mind if I sit here?" she asked and waited for Seven's 'I do not' before sitting down. Without asking she pushed aside Seven's brown oozing lunch and set in front of her one of the bowls from her tray. "Chicken soup," she explained at Seven's raised eyebrow. "It might be easier on your stomach than… whatever that is." She pointed at Seven's plate with her spoon. "I need my office this afternoon."

Seven almost blushed. "Yes Lieutenant," she said chastised.

The Lieutenant rolled her eyes. "That was a joke Seven," she said.

"Yes Lieutenant," Seven said automatically. She watched carefully as Lieutenant Torres dipped her spoon in the soup and blew gently on it before putting it into her mouth. Seven imitated the movements exactly and found the flavor surprisingly tolerable, even pleasant. The meal continued in silence and when Lieutenant Torres finished Seven wasn't half-way done and felt no urgent desire to stop.

"I have to get back to Engineering, but I'll see you at the senior staff meeting later?" Seven nodded an affirmative and watched as Lieutenant Torres took the remains of her lunch as well as Seven's abandoned plate to the replicator, recycled them and left, leaving Seven utterly baffled.

Janeway walked into conference room, sat down in her chair and looked around the table. Today she felt she could not ask for a better senior staff. Everyone had given their reports to her earlier so she allowed her mind to wander as they filled each other in. These meetings were more to ensure that all the department heads were on the same page, and Janeway also liked to touch base in person which these meetings did efficiently.

Efficiently, she laughed to herself, I must be spending too much time with Seven. She had tried to spend more time with the woman she saw as a daughter after the doctor had informed her of his plan to move Seven to solids. She knew the transition would not be easy or comfortable and tried to encourage her through the changes. She tried to take her lunch with Seven but today found herself unable to get away from the reports which had piled up. She was glad to see that she was looking better than she had yesterday. Though now that she heard the report from Navigation she realized something.

"Seven didn't you say your scan of the next sector would be complete by now?" Seven looked down at her PADD as if to confirm the information though Janeway knew she had an eidetic memory.

"Indeed Captain. I apologize for the delay, the scan is complete but as of yet I have not compiled a report."

This was unusual, "Why not?" Janeway asked with perhaps a little more force than necessary. "We need to know what to expect."

"Yes Captain, I-" Seven began.

"It's my fault Captain," B'Elanna interrupted. "Seven's been spending a lot of time helping out with some computer simulations in engineering."

Janeway frowned. It wasn't like B'Elanna to keep someone from their duties, then again it was possible that Seven hadn't told her… more likely B'Elanna hadn't given Seven a choice. She couldn't chastise either one of them until she knew the whole story, but she couldn't just let this go.

"I'm glad that separate departments are working together," she said slowly, giving herself time to decide what to say next. "However in the future please make sure everything gets done on time." She looked around the table, meeting everyone's eyes. "Dismissed."

Seven's long range sensor report was on her desk before the end of the shift.

It was a few days before she could get away from the ready room for lunch. She headed toward the mess hall after inquiring about Seven's location. Preparing in her mind a few arguments to convince Seven to eat, Janeway walked through the doors. She looked around for the typical ramrod straight posture alone in the crowd. At first she couldn't see Seven but at a second glance she spotted her. She wasn't sitting straight, she wasn't alone, and from the two empty plates in front of her and her companion she didn't need encouragement to eat either.

Janeway loaded a plate and made her way over to the table. "Mind if I join you?" she asked as she sat down in front of Seven and B'Elanna Torres. The two women didn't even seem to notice her.

"That would require the energy of a Borg cube Seven," B'Elanna said in exasperation and sat back in her chair, which caused her to finally notice Janeway. "Captain!" she exclaimed in surprise, this in turn caused Seven to look up as well.

"Captain," she acknowledged. Janeway nodded to them and swallowed.

"What are you working on?" she reached for the PADD. Though the massive amounts of calculations meant little to her without knowing what they were for.

"An improvement to the warp core containment field, to make it less prone to breaching," B'Elanna explained.

"Interesting," Janeway scrolled through the calculations again, some of them making sense to her now. She handed back the PADD and turned to Seven. "Have you finished the analysis of the nebula we passed through yesterday?" she asked, gently reminding both of them that Seven had her own work to do.

"I sent the report to you before I came here," Janeway nodded approvingly. A few moments of silence passed. Finally B'Elanna got up.

"If you'll excuse me Captain I need to get back to Engineering," she took Seven's plate and stacked it on top of hers, taking them in one hand and the PADD the other. "I'll try and work on these energy requirements tonight," she told Seven, who stood as well.

"I too am required in Astrometrics," as soon as she stood B'Elanna held out the plates, Seen took them and collected the utensils from the tables.

"Enjoy your meal Captain." B'Elanna said and headed out the doors, Seven following shortly after.

Janeway strode into Astrometrics surprised when she did not immediately see Seven. "Hello?" she called out.

"I am here," Janeway followed the voice until she stood on the platform with her back to the screen. Seven was on the floor, on her stomach, a panel open and various tools beside her.

"What are you doing?" Janeway asked crouching down next to Seven's hip.

"Realigning the power distribution."

"Did you talk to the chief engineer before you started?" Janeway asked preparing a speech on the importance of hierarchy in a Starfleet crew.

"Unnecessary. I am using only the energy already allocated to Astrometrics," Janeway nodded.

"Speaking of B'Elanna… I'm glad you two are getting along," Seven said nothing. "I'm just curious how it came about."

"Lieutenant Torres requested my assistance in augmenting the warp core containment field. I agreed," Seven explained.

"She just came up and asked you for help?" Janeway found it hard to believe. In the past she'd had to order and threaten B'Elanna to work with Seven.

"She first reminded me that I was in her debt, but I believe she meant that in jest."

"Debt?" Janeway didn't like the sound of that. Seven was still learning how to interact with people; it would be far too easy to take advantage of her. B'Elanna was not a cruel person, but she was an angry one and if that anger was focused enough on Seven she could convince herself that she had it coming. "What debt Seven?"

There was a change in the pitch of the machinery around them which quickly blended back in the white noise. Seven stood and walked back to the consol checking the readings.

"She allowed me the use of her office space when I was experiencing abdominal discomfort," she answered, then, apparently satisfied with the energy readings, she returned to close the panel and gather her tools.

"Why didn't you come to the doctor or myself if you were in pain?" Janeway couldn't understand it. Why would Seven go to B'Elanna?

"I did not wish to disturb either of you, Lieutenant Torres noticed my discomfort while were working in close proximity. She offered the use of her office to recuperate."

Janeway couldn't picture it, but Seven didn't lie, not to her anyway. "How's your stomach now?"

Seven looked at her then. "Lieutenant Torres has been assisting me in finding food that does not cause me discomfort. I have been adapting well."

Janeway moved closer and placed her hand on Seven's shoulder. "I'm glad you two are getting along, but B'Elanna's very volatile, I just don't want you getting hurt." She let the statement sink in, then after a few moments she left, leaving Seven alone.

Seven looked at the woman sitting in front of her, she was smiling and sharing an exasperated look with Seven at the antics of their two other companions. Seven answered with a small twitch of the corners of her lips. She no longer felt bewildered by these lunches. She took her meal with Lieutenant Torres nearly every day now, most of the time Ensigns Paris and Kim joined them. It had been awkward at first, she had been unsure of how to behave, and of her welcome. Janeway's warning rang in her mind constantly in the beginning, but as these lunches continued despite her errors in social protocol, the warning slowly faded.

Now she enjoyed these lunches, found herself collecting anecdotes to share with her meal companions, found herself listening to theirs with authentic interest.

However she still preferred her quiet lunches with Lieutenant Torres, time spent in companionable silence or collaborating on an idea. Seven discovered that Janeway had been right; B'Elanna was indeed volatile and unpredictable. Her mind would tackle a problem as if it was a battle. Occasionally frustration caused her to lash out verbally, but she seemed careful not to do it in Seven's direction. Seven in turn began to recognize the signs of an oncoming outburst and had found several ways of distracting the lieutenant.

"So how about it Seven, you interested?" Ensign Paris had been describing his latest holoprogram and had offered them all parts. Ensign Kim had reluctantly agreed and Lieutenant Torres had refused outright. Seven thought she would need to give a more polite answer.

"I apologize Ensign Paris how-"

"Tom," he insisted, had been insisting since she had joined their lunches, as usual Seven simply ignored him.

"However I have some sensor scan that require interpretation," it was not untrue, she did have work to do, however it was not as urgent as perhaps she had insinuated. Ensign Paris looked disappointed for a moment.

"Your loss," he said and smiled again, repeating the description to Ensign Kim with even more enthusiasm than before.

Lieutenant Torres was still smiling at her. On her right Ensign Kim burst out laughing, attracting the Lieutenant's attention. Seven collected the last of her lunch on her fork. It tasted better than ever before.

B'Elanna sat on the edge of the cliff, looking down at the dubious expression on Seven's face with great amusement.

"B'Elanna Torres, I wish to speak with you!" Seven called up. The used of her full name instead of her rank to get her attention when they were off duty had happened rather spontaneously a few weeks earlier. It seemed to take Seven by surprise, as though she'd just discovered that relationships could have more than one layer, and perhaps that was what had happened.

B'Elanna cupped her hands, an unnecessary gesture due to Seven's enhanced hearing, but she never let that stop her from making an impression. "Then come up here!" Seven now looked annoyed which amused B'Elanna even more.

"Why do you not simply end the program?" Their voices echoed around the \cavern, B'Elanna briefly wondered why Seven didn't just use her comm-badge. Either she likes to yell, B'Elanna thought to herself, or she just likes the echo.

"Because I'm not finished yet." She still had an hour left and knowing Seven once the program was off it would not be turned back on today.

"Why don't you come down?!" B'Elanna smiled; this game of illogical answers that made perfect sense was something else that had spontaneously developed between them. The game ending only when the answers became truly nonsensical or one of them gave up, neither of them liked to give up.

"I've already been there!" B'Elanna answered, grin firmly in place. "Come up!" She watched Seven for signs of distress, ready to surrender if it came to that, but Seven surprised her and started to climb up. B'Elanna watched shouting encouragement as Seven reached the top in record breaking time, looking slightly disheveled and very annoyed.

"I am 'up'," B'Elanna couldn't help herself, she started laughing. A full belly grabbing, weakened knees causing, gasping for air, eye-watering laugh. Seven's expression of confusion only made it worse. Finally she calmed, her breathing returned to normal and the giggles slowed to an occasional hiccup. B'Elanna took Seven by the hand and lead them to the edge of the cliff. She sat down with her feet dangling over the edge and waited for Seven to do the same before taking the PADD from her hands. A design for something complicated flickered on the screen.

"What did you need to talk to me about?" After a few moments in which Seven did not answer B'Elanna looked up. Seven was regarding her with an intensity B'Elanna didn't recognize. Her heart thudded in her chest and her muscles tensed, reading to fight or run away from this dangerous unknown. "What?" she said nervously. "What is it?"

When Seven spoke her voice was soft and shaking, scared, hesitant, as though she was about to jump off the cliff. "B'Elanna Torres," she said, "I wish to kiss you."

B'Elanna's hearts pounded but her flight or fight reflex calmed. She looked at Seven, the hair which had escaped her careful bun, the smudge of dirt on her cheek, her eyes, bright in the dimness of the caverns.

"I think I would like that very much, Seven of Nine," she whispered, and leaned forward, inviting Seven to do the same. The kiss was soft, almost chaste, the meeting of lips and the desire for more. Seven pulled away first, flushed and overwhelmed. B'Elanna squeezed her hand in reassurance and raised the PADD in front of them. Slow, she understood, she could wait.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

They spent the rest of B'Elanna's time as she had known they would, working side by side, sitting on the edge of a cliff.

Fic: Sleeping in darkness, waking in…

2006-02-23T18:35:25Z

Title: Sleeping in darkness, waking in…
Spoilers: Don't read this if you haven't seen the show.
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Lyta/Talia, implied Susan/Talia.
Content Warnings: Sexual behavior.
Summary: You're in hell, so you latch onto something. One thing that keeps you going, then by some miracle, you escape, but that thing isn't there. Talia returns to Babylon 5, looking for Susan.

Not Mine Disclaimer: Babylon 5 and its characters are the property of J. Michael Straczynski, Warner Brothers, PTEN, and/or TNT. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
Clone Disclaimer: This story is mine all mine *manic laugh*. So if you want to reproduce it in any way . . . let me know K?
Beta Thanks: Thank you aris_tgd for the numerous beta readings.

To the other telepaths aboard Babylon 5 her arrival was like the wind dying down, or the pause in conversation when someone interesting entered the room. The white noise dimmed for a few moments and even those who were sleeping felt it. The non-telepaths didn't notice anything. A few saw a telepath look up suddenly or lose their place in conversation, but didn't attribute it to anything important.

'She's not here.' The realization struck her hard, as if someone had punched her in the stomach. There was been no reason for her to believe that she would still be on Babylon 5, but she had no where else to start looking and Susan had been happy here, had truly felt at home. Talia wondered what had happened to make her give that up.

The station looked both different and the same as it had been when she left. Humans and aliens still crowded the Zocalo; but the shops, kiosks and merchants had changed, not all of them, but the fabric and fashion store had been replaced with a travel agency and the small cafe had disappeared, swallowed by the souvenir shop beside it.

The smell and taste of rogues was everywhere, invading every pore in the metal of the station. Even if all of them were caught and removed, the stench would linger for a thousand years. These rogues had scratched out a home here and would fight tooth and nail to keep it.

There were other telepathic scents of course: alien scents, sweet water green scents, sour orange-yellow scents, a bitter brown psi-cop or two and one tasteless colorless pressure that shone like the sun through a block of ice. A presence so powerful it almost wasn't there.

"Lyta," she whispered, and began to move.

She stood in the middle of the room. It was dim, brown, casually derelict enough to fool those who stumbled upon it, but clean so no one could mistake it for abandoned. The rogues stood around her in a circle, surrounding her, barring any advancement or retreat. Not that she wanted to retreat - not that she would retreat from these lost souls. They were no threat to her. In their charity and stolen clothes, their empty eyes, they were no threat to anyone.

She felt their minds touching hers, fluttering around it like butterflies on flowers. They didn't know her. They didn't even know of her. There weren't any rumors about her, not like there were about Lyta. Everyone in the corps knew about Lyta. She was the secret no one managed to keep. No one had managed to lock her up, no one managed to make her forgotten.

Talia pushed down the rising anger and resentment. It wasn't Lyta's fault what had happened to her.

The telepaths were whispering among themselves. The soft almost hidden thoughts that passed between them tickled her. She saw their confusion plain as day and like frightened children they did the only thing they could think of. They called their parents.

"Talia?" Lyta, at least, had the decency to look shocked as she made her way into the circle adjusting her clothing. The boy toy that stood slightly in front of her, pulling his shirt on over his head, didn't even blink, though mentally he took up a subtle defensive stand. Most probably wouldn't have picked up on it, but she had learned a lot of things in the past few years, and casually picking up on a person's mind-set was one of them.

"Hello Lyta." She kept her voice soft, her posture passive. She was a visitor here, she kept reminding herself, and she had nothing to prove. "You're looking well." Well, better than the thin, frightened fugitive she had been the last time Talia had seen her.

"What are you doing here?" Lyta made a move to approach her but a slight twitch of the boy toy's arm and the movement was halted. Talia didn't think Lyta even realized what had happened. Talia clenched her teeth slightly then consciously relaxed her jaw.

"Here in down-below surrounded by rogues or here on the station?" She sprinkled light humor into her tone, attempting to keep the situation under control by sheer force of will. When Lyta didn't answer she sighed, lowered her head, regrouped, and looked up. "I'm looking for someone," she admitted.

Realization dawned in Lyta's eyes and she nodded in understanding. "Su- Ivanova." Talia caught the slip, and decided not to call her on it... yet.

"Yes."

The boy toy was getting antsy. He didn't know what was going on and didn't like it. He made a sharp deliberate motion, effectively distracting Lyta into remembering his existence.

"Talia, this is Byron. Byron, this is Talia Winters. She was the commercial telepath assigned to Babylon 5 a few years ago."

Now Byron allowed some surprise to slip into his expression. "The one implanted with an artificial personality." It was not so much a question as an exclamation of interest.

Lyta nodded. "But it's gone now. There's not even a trace of it."

Talia blinked in surprise. She hadn't even felt the scan, and she was extremely aware of the things that went on inside her mind. Talia wondered what else the Vorlons managed to do. "She's gone," she defended. "Completely."

"Amazing." Byron took a step forward. Talia took a step back. "The original personality should have been completely destroyed even if the AP was somehow removed." He sounded too much like he knew all about it. His mind made her skin crawl. She built a wall between them. He no longer existed for her.

"Well mine wasn't, and now I'm here." Very deliberately Talia turned to look at Lyta. "And I want to talk to you." She looked at Byron and then the other telepaths. "Alone."

"Anything you have to say to Lyta you can say in front of us." Byron put a hand on Lyta's shoulder possessively, and squeezed. Talia clenched her fists, reminded herself that he didn't exist, and relaxed.

"That's not up to you to decide." Talia looked Lyta in the eye, trying to convey in a look the horror of the past few years and the desperation she felt now. "Lyta," she whispered, begged the only light she could see in her darkness. "Please."

A moment of hesitation, an internal debate then a decision, a nod. Talia wasn't sure who was more surprised, her or Byron.

Lyta's quarters were small, large enough for the basics but not much else. It was tidy; the bed was even made, the sheets a colorless brown. It seemed that Lyta had moved in, took a look around and given up on making it a home. Out of habit Talia sat on the bed and removed her jacket, dropping it causally over the edge. Lyta watched her through the corner of her eyes as she made tea in the kitchenette. She handed Talia her mug, white with a Babylon 5 insignia on the front, same as Lyta's, and sat next to her. They sipped their drinks in silence for a few moments before Lyta's curiosity got the better of her.

"What happened to you?"

Talia laughed sardonically. "Where do I start?"

"Why aren't you dead?"

Talia's laugh was genuine this time, which surprised her and startled Lyta. She sipped her tea thoughtfully for a few moments collecting her thoughts.

"I suppose it started with Jason Ironhart... The corps did things to him, he ran away, came here, and changed me. Gave me gifts which I was only beginning to understand when you arrived. After you activated the spy we sort of switched places. I was the sleeper within her mind. She wasn't aware of me and I couldn't be found by a deep scan. Perhaps it wasn't Jason, perhaps that's what happened to all the others as well, and no one could find out... I don't know. All I know is that I was trapped within her mind, watching the world go by. I saw everything. Even things she missed, and when she slept I whispered things into her mind. Things that kept us alive even though they all wanted us dead. Every night I managed to conquer a little more of her mind and make it my own, until there was more of me in this body then her."

She stopped. Her eyes wide open, staring into a past she couldn't seem to stop sharing.

"They found out," Lyta concluded.

Talia finished her drink, and, hand steady, she put the mug on the floor. "They put me in a dark room...." She smiled or grimaced, or both. "Time got away from me."

The room was small. How small she couldn't say as the dimension kept changing, or perhaps they kept moving her to different rooms. She didn't know. She felt drugged, and they could do anything they wanted while she slept.

Once they put her in a room so small it was more like a box. All she could do was sit in the same position. She didn't know how long she had been there, but the next room had been so big she had gotten lost in it. She had cried then.

She didn't mind the drugs so much, really; while they made her head feel like it had been filled with cotton, they also made the other personality silent in her mind, and if she concentrated very, very hard she even managed to gain some ground in the battle for her mind. Slowly, ever so slowly she advanced until the Other was barely a felt presence in her mind. Then she was alone, and wishing the Other was still there.

Whether or not they did anything else to her during this time she couldn't say. Her whole world at that point had been reduced to what was in her mind. In that respect her captors did her a favor. In wandering through the lonely landscape of her mind she discovered the gifts that Jason had left, and pulled together rudimentary knowledge of their use from the messages he'd hidden. While her body withered from lack of movement her mind grew ever stronger, and as she learned the nooks and crannies of her mindscape she became sensitive to any change or intrusion. She became aware of their monitoring and took comfort in not being alone.

Then one day the darkness called her name and she lashed out in fear and madness. She felt her monitor scream in agony as his mind crumbled.

The lights came on and overwhelmed her dark-adjusted eyes. Someone came in and she screamed, and as she screamed she felt their cells, their very molecules shudder in their bonds.

She cried as her senses were flooded with information she was too weak and tired to handle. A short sharp pain in her arm and the darkness returned, silent this time, and she welcomed it.

When she woke up the darkness receded but the light didn't burn her eyes anymore and she could see again.

What she saw made her cry.

She was in a laboratory or a storeroom, it was hard to tell, strapped to a bed in the middle.

Surrounding her were what seemed like props out from a house of horrors. Brains floating in colored liquid, mutated fetuses suspended in formaldehyde, petrified eyes with nerves still attached, ears too, any sense that could be used to perceive telepathy was studied there, or stored there, and now so was she.

She cried for what felt like days. She cried as the doctors leered at her, poked her and prodded her, and never once spoke to her. She cried as she was left alone with only echoes of her cries as company. She cried until she suddenly realized no one gave a damn, not even her, so she stopped and decided never to cry again.

"How did you get out?"

She was lying on the bed now, on her side, hands cushioning her head. Lyta sat cross-legged next to her feet, silent up to now.

"One of Jason's gifts," she said softly. She was so tired, all she wanted to do now was sleep, preferably not alone. She had been alone for so long she felt like her heart was constantly aching. "I'm telekinetic now. When I realized no one was coming to my rescue I undid my restraints, they were pretty basic straps and I ... left."

"It wasn't that easy," Lyta argued softly.

"No," Talia admitted. "It wasn't that easy."

Walking the cold hallways on her way to nowhere, passing people she didn't know, not even pausing as they clutched their heads and fell to their knees in pain, screaming, all the time screaming. She was screaming too... at least she thought she was screaming. Later her throat felt sore and raw, but she wasn't sure. There was blood too, from their eyes and ears and noses. In her dreams it was on her hands.

She turned the complex into a madhouse, transferring her insanity to others, or just passing it along like some mutated fatal disease. Either way, when she left, she was sane, or at least as sane as she was ever going to get, and almost everyone she left behind was dead.

When she was finally out, free and clear, she found herself so psionically exhausted it was all she could do just to keep her shields in place.

She had been wobbly then, she was shaking now.

Lyta spooned her from behind, held her close, understood her better than anyone else in this galaxy could. Yet Talia didn't relax, couldn't relax, refused to relax. She was an abnormality now, and the universe was against her. She would never relax again. "When I got out I wandered for a while. I don't remember the first few days."

She walked in a daze until she tripped and fell hard on the ground and realized she was too weak to get up. Looking back now, it would have been terribly pointless to give up, then, but at the time it seemed like a wonderful idea to just close her eyes . . . and die. She would have, too, if a sudden vision at the corner of her eye hadn't jolted her tired heart into wild hope.

"Susan," she whispered toward the figure, reaching for her even as she moved away into the crowd. "Susan!" She got up without even noticing and ran, arm outstretched, un-gloved, into the crowd. She ran and yelled for as long as she could. Finally when she couldn't run anymore she leaned against a lamp post, chest heaving, hands trembling. She looked terrible, she assumed. She hadn't looked in a mirror in months... maybe longer.

Yet this was the moment a middle aged man decided to approach her and ask how much she wanted for the whole night. Perhaps he could see the beauty hiding beneath her skeletal frame, too pale skin, destroyed nails and wild eyes. Maybe he was just attracted to the scent of desperation that clung to her.

Either way, she pushed him aside as hard as she could, which while wasn't very hard was enough to get the point across. She stumbled away, stomach turning from disgust, hunger and disappointment. She ended up in an alley clutching her stomach in pain, biting her lip to keep from screaming.

"Was it Susan? The woman you saw?" Talia's shirt was on the floor, her pants next to it. She wore no underwear; she couldn't afford it. Lyta's hands covered her breasts, gently stroking her nipples; her lips kissed their way across her back. Talia sighed and turned over, cupped Lyta's chin in her hand, kissed her. It was a sad kiss, a good-bye kiss that made Lyta want to hold on to her even tighter.

"I don't know." Talia finally answered. "It doesn't matter. Whether or not I imagined her she reminded me of something and gave me a reason not to die."

Lyta lowered her mouth to Talia's nipple, wetting it with the softest of touches of her tongue. "What did she remind you?"

Talia ran her fingers through Lyta's hair, not relaxing into the other woman's touch but allowing herself to respond to it.

"She reminded me that I promised to come back."

In another bed, another night, a different lifetime, two women lay in each other's arms in post orgasmic bliss. For a few moments there was no fear, there was no anger, and all the past wounds ceased to throb.

"I think I love you, Susan Ivanova."

The hand that had been leisurely stroking her hair, skin, face, tensed and stilled.

"Don't say that," came the hoarse desperate whisper. "Please."

Talia took a still tense hand in hers and kissed the knuckles. "Why?"

"Because if you love me and I love you," Susan turned over, holding herself, preparing to hurt. "Everyone I love goes away." She whispered so softly Talia barely heard her.

Maneuvering herself over the other naked woman, Talia positioned herself so she was looking eye to eye.

"I can't promise I'll never go away," the pain in the blue eyes in front of her seemed to claw at her heart. "But I promise. If I can, I'll always come back."

A hiccup that might have been a laugh or a sob and she was being kissed by salty lips, her breath stolen from her lungs, and the second time was so much better than the amazing first time and the universe seemed to pause and admire the beauty and perfection of the joining of these two beings.

Talia withered and gasped as Lyta worked her tongue and fingers, and suddenly she was drowning in Lyta's essence, so powerful it burned her to her very core in the best possible way. She gasped in pleasure and unleashed her own potential and she was drowning in Lyta while Lyta drowned in her and damn it felt so good. Her whole being screamed at Lyta not to stop not to dare stop. Talia felt good and all she wanted was to keep feeling good for another few moments.

"Stay." Lyta whispered. "Stay here with me." She had heard the words before. The past few months were riddled with men and woman she had bedded - no, why use a soft word for what she did. Fucked, she'd fucked them, fucked them until they screamed and then she took their money. But she could stay here and not tell Lyta. She didn't have to know; she didn't have to tell her.

She turned to her side, away from Lyta. "I can't," she said coldly. Lyta touched her back and she flinched away.

"Yes you can." Lyta insisted. "Stay here. Byron can protect you. We're trying to-"

"Stop!" Talia sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "Stop, just stop. I don't need Byron's protection, and neither do you." She began to pull on her cloths. "I can't stay here, Lyta. It's not where I belong."

"We don't belong anywhere, you and me." Lyta argued softly, still lying on her side. "Best we can hope for is somewhere where we're not hated."

Talia paused for a moment. "Perhaps it's the best you can hope for." Lyta winced, but Talia didn't see it. "The best I can hope for is-" she cut herself off. "The best I can hope for is something more than nothing."

Lyta turned on her back, preferring to look at the ceiling rather than face the image of Talia's too-slender back being covered by a shirt.

"Even if you find her, she won't believe it's you." Lyta winced at the whining tone in her voice. Talia wasn't hers. She wasn't going to get to keep her.

"I'll convince her," she said without pausing. She had thought about it before, obviously. Spent many hours imagining what the reunion would be like. Lyta sighed.

"She was assigned to the new Warlock-class ship. The Rasputin, I think. Last I heard they were exploring the rim." Another thought occurred to her. "You can't even get to her."

"Can I use your terminal?" Talia asked after a quiet moment. Lyta nodded. "Thank you." Lyta nodded again, then turned her back on the blonde, and tried to sleep.

She woke up to the sensation of soft lips against hers, a tongue desperately seeking entry into her mouth. A hand sliding under her shirt and one tugging at her pants. She struggled against her assailant until she realized who it was. Talia didn't seem to mind her struggles and just let her realize what was going on in her own time. Between breathless kisses Lyta managed to ask what was wrong.

"I can't get to her," she whispered distractedly and lowered her lips to Lyta's nipple, effectively distracting her as well.

When it was all over Lyta held a tense shaking Talia in her arms. "I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling as though her words were the obstacles standing in Talia's way instead of the vastness of space. She had been jealous and had said the words in anger. There was no one in the universe who would search for her like Talia was for Susan.

"It's not your fault." Talia reassured, the bitterness in her voice actually making Lyta feel worse.

"I know you wanted to see her-" She broke off when she felt Talia tense.

"No. Seeing her why I lived." All this was said in a calm, resigned voice that clashed with her body language, tense shoulders that screamed her anger.

"Maybe we can find a way," Lyta said. "Find a freighter or something..." but Talia was already shaking her head no.

"I've looking already," she explained. "The only ships that go near the rim are Earth Force vessels and none are meeting up with her ship, at least for the next six months." Lyta opened her mouth to voice an idea when Talia cut her off again. "And no private ship has the resources to reach her." She sighed. "I can't get to her." Talia closed her eyes and pretended to sleep, putting an end to the conversation.

Cold, hungry, and tired, she stumbled through the dark streets. The lights from the houses mocked her, and she wished she could lash out at them like she did at those who had held her. Somewhere nearby a window rattled, and Talia collapsed.

Now as then she woke up naked and disoriented and in memory she acted as she wasn't able to then. Next to the bed the mug shattered and next to her Lyta whimpered and stirred into wakefulness.

"What?" she asked, voice rough with sleep. "Stop what?"

Talia looked at the woman beside her. She was lying on her stomach, back bare, eyes still cloudy with sleep. She looked like a child with that confused expression on her face and Talia felt a protective urge surge through her.

"Nothing," she whispered. "Go back to sleep."

Lyta blinked in curiosity until finally the fog of sleep overcame her and she let go. Talia stared at the ceiling for a while.

The next morning, or at least the next time they woke up, Talia cleared up the broken mug, picking up the pieces one at a time.

"Did the Vorlons treat you well?" she asked suddenly. "When they changed you, did it hurt?"

She spoke so softly, like balls of cotton blowing in the breeze. Lyta wondered what she wanted to hear.

"Change is never painless," she finally answered. "And there is no Vorlon word for gentle." Talia threw out the broken pieces, unsatisfied. "What are you going to do now?" Talia paused, shrugged, smiled painfully. "Will you stay here?" Another shrug.

"Where would I go?" She asked, almost helplessly. Almost. This woman would never allow herself to be truly helpless again.

Closer to her. Lyta thought to herself, she didn't even think about saying it out loud. She didn't have to.

"You could come with me." The tone was flippant with an undertone of desperate hope. Lyta wanted to laugh, but that would hurt too much.

"Go with you? Travel the galaxy?" Talia shrugged, her new version of nodding. "And then what? When you find Susan and live happily ever after, where will I be?" Her tone was harsh, bitter. She too had been abandoned too many times.

Talia sat on the bed, shoulders hunched forward. "I'm just tired of being alone."

Lyta sighed. She could understand that. "I can't leave Byron." She said softly. She didn't say He's the first one to make feel wanted in a long time. She didn't say You're the second. It would have been ridiculous and pathetic to say that to a woman who slept with her because she was lonely and never stopped thinking of another woman.

Talia stayed silent. She didn't like Byron. He reeked of Psi Corps, and of those who used her. There were horns hidden under his halo, but Lyta would stop listening if she said that, so she said nothing.

"What will happen when we meet up with Susan?" She had made up her mind. Babylon 5 was becoming stifling, anyway, and she could rejoin Byron later.

"I don't know."

At least she didn't lie. Then again Talia never really was a liar. "I have some money. Not much, but enough for two tickets to somewhere. Where do you want to go?"

Music Videos

2006-01-15T16:52:40Z

Multimedia - http://www.archive.org/details/I_am_too_sexy

A silly video to the music of "I am too sexy" by Right Said Fred. Featuring clips from various TV shows, portraying sex as seen on TV in science fiction and fantasy shows. Made for Ilana's lecture regarding Sexuality in Science Fiction.

Stargate SG1 - http://home.comcast.net/~hertell/Musvid/index.html

A Hathor video to music of "Poison" by Alice Cooper. Features clips from Hathor, and Into The Fire.

ER - http://home.comcast.net/~hertell/Musvid/index.html

A Kerry/Kim music video to "It's Been Awhile." by Staind. Features all the clips I managed to get my grubby little hands on.

Fic: The Middle Ain't So Bad.{SG1}

2006-01-15T14:10:46Z

Title: The Middle Ain't So Bad.

Not Mine Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

Sex Drugs and Violence Disclaimer: Sex Sex and more Sex! This story is rated NC-17 for Sex. If you are under the legal age or this is not legal where you are, grow up, move and then come back! :)

Don't Like Don't Read Disclaimer: This story deals about two women and a man who love each other and have sex. Face it, it happens. Anyway I'm giving you a fair warning so if you don't like it don't read it.

Clone Disclaimer: This story is mine all mine *manic laugh*. So if you want to reproduce it in any way . . . let me know K?

Other than that . . . Enjoy.

They were looking over her head again. She just knew it, could feel it across the back of her neck. They were planning something. She kept her eyes closed and pushed down the wave of jealousy she felt at the fact that they could do that without words. She shivered and the blanket was immediately raised up to her neck. She sighed in complete bliss.

Ahhhh this is the life. She thought happily.

"Janet?" A soft voice almost purred in her ear, she smiled involuntarily.

"Mmmm?" Long thin finger tucked her hair behind her ear.

"You 'wake?" The skin on her cheek tingled from the warm breath.

"Na ah." Janet grabbed the hem of the blanket and pulled it over her head, smile widening at her lover's gentle chuckle.

"That is most unfortunate." The low rumbling voice was slightly muffled by the blanket. The hand belonging to the voice (Or does the voice belong to the hand? Not the time for philosophy Janet!) moved from its place on her hip up under her arm and gently pulled her from her position on her stomach to her side, pulling her against a strong muscular body, stroking her stomach, drawing circles around her navel.

She wondered what they were saying, up there above the blanket, without words. She wondered if she had thrown them for a loop. She hoped so. She liked keeping them on their metaphorical toes. They kept her on hers enough. Her smiled widened, tall lovers tended to be a problem when you yourself were short. She couldn't count how many times she had almost strained her calf muscles because they refused to bend down and meet her half way. She suspected it was a running joke between the two. On the other hand she loved being sandwiched between them resting her head on one of their chests while they kissed above her. They never forgot about her though, there was always at least one hand stroking her, tangled in her hair, or taking off her cloths. It had gotten suspiciously quiet above her. Even the hand on her stomach had stilled.

What are those two up to now? Truthfully she had been pleasantly surprised when she had discovered Teal'c's sense of humor. His small practical jokes let her know he was thinking about her and could make her smile even through the longest days. Once, when all the teams had been on world and it looked like it would be a long dull day, Janet had discovered that half her instruments had been switched with Sam's lab supplies. It had taken the two half a day to get everything organized, but it had given her something to do and an excuse to spend time with Sam on base. They had gotten their revenge that night and Teal'c had thoroughly enjoyed it. The silence continued above her, and so, with delighted curiosity, Janet peeked out from behind the covers.

Sam watched as Janet slowly, cautiously, lowered the blanket from her head. She bit her cheek in an attempt to keep a straight face. Janet was far too curious for her own good, and Sam risked a glance at Teal'c to say I told you so with her eyes. They had been trying to figure out how to get Janet to come out from under the blanket on her own and Sam had suggested playing dead. It had worked. Janet looked from her to Teal'c and seeing that she had been tricked tried to hide under the covers again. Teal'c was too quick for her and ripped the blanket from the doctor's hands and threw it to the bottom of the bed. Janet let out a surprised yelp and curled in on herself trying to hide as much of her naked body from her lovers as she could, resting her face on her knees concealing her face. Sam knew that she was smiling under there. Sam looked back up to Teal'c and winked, then put a disappointed look on her face.

"I guess Janet doesn't want to play . . ." She said sounding like a pouting child. She ran a finger through the woman's hair and down her spine.

"Perhaps we could convince her." Sam smiled as Teal'c moved down the bed positioning himself so that his face was next to the Janet's back.

Looking up he waited for Sam's signal and at her nod he leaned forward and latched on to the point on Janet's spine that was guaranteed to make her gasp. That was when Sam made her move, as Janet's head lifted up, Sam's came down and captured the brunette's mouth in a kiss. Gently Teal'c pushed and pulled Janet's body until she was lying straight and not curled up. Then continued his oral inspection of her spine. Sam meanwhile had moved from the good doctor's lips down to her neck. Teal'c moved back and allowed Janet to fall on her back with a whimper. Then he moved to the nearest breast nipping at the soft flesh before capturing the nipple in his mouth.

"Still don't want play doctor?" The blonde teased. Teal'c was a pretty silent lover where as Sam liked to talk, well up to a certain point anyway. Janet grabbed the blonde's head in both hands and raised her up to her own face. She let one hand fall down and brushed her thumb against Sam's nipple causing the excited woman to gasp.

"What do you think?" She asked this time capturing Sam's lips with her own.

My Women. Thought Teal'c to himself as he watched Sam tease Janet out of the corner of his eye. Intelligent Strong Independent but mine nonetheless. Giving Janet's nipple one last lick, Teal'c kissed his way to the small woman's other breast repeating his actions from the first. When Sam finally managed to detach herself from Janet's lips she moved down kissing Teal'c's head as she made her way down to Janet's belly button. Teal'c smiled and moved up to imprison her mouth in a kiss, playing with her lips and allowing her to play with his.

Teal'c watched as Sam's fingers disappeared and reappeared from within Janet. He waited until they glistened with the smaller woman's juices before taking the blonde's hand in his own and stopping her movement. Janet let out a displeased growl when he gently pulled the pale digits out of the brunette. He smiled at the angry, frustrated look Janet gave him as he raised Sam's fingers to his face. She looked at him expectantly, a fire burning behind the sapphires in her eyes, so bright he wondered why the whole room wasn't tinged blue. Slowly, keeping his eyes locked on hers, he took a single digit into his mouth running his tongue around it. She let out a sigh that reminded him of the silence in the middle of the night. Right after the crickets stopped chirping and seconds before the birds started singing. She didn't close her eyes, though he knew she wanted to, she knew that if she did he would stop. Teal'c cleaned off one digit after another, when all of Sam's fingers were clean he guided her hand back to Janet.

Sam returned her attention to Janet, her fingers wet from Teal'c mouth. His soft velvet tongue had caused waves of lightning to flow from her fingers down her arms and straight to her center. It made her want to throw him on the bed and have her way with him, but she knew from experience that he wouldn't allow it. He had patience, he could wait, and he would wait until he was good and ready.

"Sam." Janet managed to squeak out. Sam looked at the brunette's face, it was flushed and the expression was intense.

So beautiful. She felt Teal'c's hand on her own and knew that he was about to stop her movement. She allowed it, delighting in the soft whimper that escaped Janet's lips. Once again Teal'c took her hand and cleaned it, but this time instead of returning it to Janet he leaned forward and kissed her, allowing the blond to taste Janet from her fingers on his tongue. The taste created a hunger for more and once again Sam was amazed at Teal'c's ability to play her body like an instrument. The kiss ended leaving Sam breathless, and her desire for more burning in her veins. Slowly she lowered herself so that her head lay between Janet's thighs.

Janet was beyond words, beyond breath, beyond . . . well beyond herself. She loved these two soldiers. Somewhere in her world Janet felt an explosion of pleasure, a starburst of fireworks in blazing colors of red and yellow and white and all the shades in between. Out of mind out of body out of soul. She felt but was completely detached from her body; she knew what was going on around her but not from the usual senses. Not from sight, or sound, or smell, or taste, or touch but rather a whole new sense that was all of these and at the same time none. And then she was falling - no not falling, but rather floating down, back into her body, back into her mind, just . . . back.

She opened her eyes, or maybe just allowed herself to see again. She sensed movement next to her and turned to see what it was. It was one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen. Two bodies different as night and day (literally), glistening with sweat, dark with pleasure and desire, entwined and rocking, tangled and thrusting. Two bodies at war with each other, two bodies in harmony with each other. Silent pleasure, strong in its naturalness, loud in its presence, these two had no need for words. Sam's fingers clutched Teal'c's forearms, her eyes shut tight not allowing sight to manipulate the things she was feeling. Her mouth opened in a silent cry as her body tensed. Teal'c paused, allowing her to ride her pleasure without distraction, allowing himself the luxury of touch. Her hair, her cheek, her breasts, her lips, her arms, her eyelids, nothing was overlooked, nothing was neglected. When her body relaxed he continued, his movements less frenzied but no less beautiful. Janet watched, feeling no need to join, feeling great joy just from watching. Teal'c increased his speed and Sam moved slightly to accommodate his new movements. His rhythm became almost jerky but somehow no less graceful, Sam matched him thrust for thrust, encouraging him with her body. She wanted his release as much as he had wanted hers. Now was the time, this was the place. No need for restraint, only those that love you are here. All these things she said and he heard, and he allowed himself to let go.

He collapsed next to Sam, sated; she looked over at him and then at Janet. Her open arms were an invitation the doctor gladly accepted. She was moved by strong arms until she was once again lying between them. She wrapped her legs around Teal'c and rested her head on Sam, the two hot but cooling bodies giving her nothing but comfort. This was joy; this was bliss, the filling in a Janet sandwich, with no need that hadn't been taken care of. She wanted only to sleep so she could wake between these two. No, the middle ain't so bad

Fic: In The Middle Of The Night.

2006-01-15T14:09:15Z

Title:In The Middle of the Night.
Pairing: Sam/Thor
Spoiler Warning: Thor's Hammer, Thor's Chariot, The Fifth Race, Fair Game, Nemesis, Small Victories. (Basically anything with Thor)
Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.
Don't Like Don't Read Disclaimer: This story deals about a woman and an alien who love each other. Face it, it happens. Anyway I'm giving you a fair warning so if you don't like it don't read it.
Clone Disclaimer: This story is mine all mine *manic laugh*. So if you want to reproduce it in any way . . . let me know K?
Author's Notes: I blame it on The Brain Wave Pattern Generator.

"No, I don't think so sir. Not tonight anyway. I have a lot of work to do." Jack watched as Sam walked away toward her lab. Turning around Jack signaled her answer to the other members of SG1.

"Guess it's just us guys tonight." He said walking towards them.

"Just as long as you don't order strippers again Jack."

Sam paused, smiling as she walked out of hearing range. Turning she headed, turned and headed towards her quarters. She had to stop herself from running, but she knew the smile on her face would give her away if anyone caught her. Luckily no one did.

She entered her room and looked at the watch. 22:41.

One hour, nineteen minutes. She could do that. She lay down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Then, she didn't see the ceiling. She stared passed the ground, passed the earth, passed the clouds, passed the atmosphere. She lay there on her bed imagining the stars, and imagined moving between the stars, slower than a stargate but faster than a Goa'uld mothership. Moving from somewhere, she didn't know where, moving toward a small almost insignificant planet, third from the sun, the only one in the solar system that developed life. Stars rushed passed her, fast but not fast enough. Never fast enough.

Then suddenly she was back in her room, staring at her ceiling. She looked at the watch 23:03.

Fifty-seven minutes. She tried to calm her racing heart. Only fifty-seven minutes to go. Anticipation always did this to her, she couldn't control it. If she was going to be truly honest it was one of her favorite things about these midnight rendezvous. Sam took a deep breath, got up and walked to the bathroom.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She was almost glowing, she wondered if others could see it. She certainly felt it. She filled up her sink with water and dunked her face into it. Letting the water cool her face and slow her heart. She stayed underwater for as long as she could before rising up just enough to take another breath and repeat the process. Four dunks later Sam was feeling a little calmer and very wet. Groping blindly for a towel she stumbled back onto her bed.

23:24. She groaned.

Thirty-six minutes. She flopped over onto her stomach. I'll never make it. She knew from experience that she wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything. She kept a book on the night table but didn't bother opening it, she knew she would just keep reading the same paragraph over and over again. Looking at the clock she willed the digits to change, it did . . . by one minute.

Thirty-five minutes. Help! It seemed to get worse every time. The waiting, the anticipation, the time slowing down. Making a frustrated noise Sam got up and started pacing. She knew the dimensions of this room by heart.

One step, two step, three step, four, She allowed the childish tune to run through her head five step, six step, seven step more. She reached the wall and turned around.

One step, two step, three step, four, five step, six step, seven step, more. Samantha you're going crazy

No kidding?! She continued pacing.

23:51

Almost there Samantha, just a few more minutes. Her heart was trying to pound its way out of her chest and she knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. She lay back on the bed and futilely tried to loss herself in her daydream again.

Soon Samantha Soon. She kept telling herself.

23:59

YES! She closed her eyes taking deep breaths and trying not to hyperventilate.

Tingling all her over skin announced the new day. She opened her eyes not expecting the dull concrete of her quarters but the shiny metal of a ship. Her cloths were gone, though she knew they would be back in the morning. Sam closed her eyes and waiting for the touch she knew she was coming.

"Hello Samantha." There is was. Cold and smooth and oh so sensual, the long grey fingers traced down her from neck to her navel. "You are well I trust?" Sam smiled and opened her eyes.

"Now? I'm perfect."

The clock on the nightstand read 00:00 but there was no one there to see it.

Drabble: Surface View {SG1}

2006-01-15T14:06:37Z

Title: Surface View.
Category: Drabble.
Spoilers: None
Rating:PG-13.
Content Warnings: None.
Summary: Post Beneath The Surface. How would Daniel deal with Thera and Jona's relationship if he and Sam were invovled?
Not Mine Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
Don't Like Don't Read Disclaimer: This story deals about two women who love each other, sorta. Face it, it happens. Anyway I'm giving you a fair warning so if you don't like it don't read it.
Clone Disclaimer: This story is mine all mine *manic laugh*. So if you want to reproduce it in any way . . . let me know K?
Author's Notes: This is post Beneath The Surface. I got tired of the SamandJacker's getting all the fun from it. Not that I have anything against the SJ'ers, but I feel there must be a counterpoint to everything.

Oh he forgave me, he just never let me forget. Teasing me mercilessly when we were alone and gently when there was someone with us. He knew I loved him, I told him over and over again, I knew he didn't feel threatened, I didn't know why though. I know, I think too much.

Once when we were lying in bed, sated, happy, me leaning into him, him lying on his back. His right hand was holding my left, his left arm resting against my back, his finger's moving once in a while to remind me that they were there, holding me, supporting me. He explained why.

"I know you love him too." He said, he was looking at my fingers entwined with his, and then suddenly he was looking at me, and I was falling into his blue eyes. He chose his words carefully and laid them on a silver platter at my feet. "But you chose me."

Fic: Now or Never {SG1}

2006-01-15T14:05:12Z

Title: Now Or Never.
Category: Romance(?)
Spoilers: Upgrades, Divide and Conquer.
Rating:PG (A Kiss).
Content Warnings: None.
Summary: Anise loses her cool in a closet.
Not Mine Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
Don't Like Don't Read Disclaimer: This story deals about two women who love each other, sorta. Face it, it happens. Anyway I'm giving you a fair warning so if you don't like it don't read it.
Clone Disclaimer: This story is mine all mine *manic laugh*. So if you want to reproduce it in any way . . . let me know K?

<lj-cut text="Now or Never." What is the term Jacob uses? Freya's voice interrupted Anise's contemplations. It is now or never? Yes that one. It is now or never 'nise. "Major Carter." Sam turned around at the sound of her name said in a metallic Goa'uld voice. "Anise?" This was the last person she expected to be looking for her. She paused allowing the Tok'ra to catch up with her. "What is it?" "May I speak to you in private?" She said the words hesitantly. "Of course. Follow me." Sam said amused at her tendency to speak formally to any Tok'ra besides her father, almost matching their tones and inclinations. Sam lead Anise to a empty storage closet. Not the most private place on the base but better then the busy corridor they had just left. "Is this alright?" She stopped herself from asking if it was acceptable, there were limits after all. "I wish to give you something." Sam looked at Anise intently. When talking to the symbiots one had to look behind the face to see expressions, since all muscle movements were voluntary even smiles were deliberate. It was something Jolinar left inside her, the ability to see that, but now she could not read Anise's 'face'. "What?" Still nothing. "First I would like to explain why." Curiosuer and Curiouser. "Alright. Why?" She decided to play along. Anise took a deep breath. "I know you do not like me." She began and quickly continued before Sam could interrupt. "I do not know what the outcome of today's events will be, but I can not risk that it will be that you will dislike me even more." Sam got the odd feeling that Anise was holding herself back from pacing. "So I wish to give this to you 'just in case'" She said the phrase slowly as though she wasn't sure she was using it correctly. At Sam's nod she continued. "Just in case you can not stand the sight of me when the day is over." "Alright." Sam said uncertainly. "What is it?" Anise hesitated for a second before moving toward Sam and softly placing her lips on the other blonds. She moved back an inch and seeing nothing but surprise on Sam's features she raised her hands and cupped the Major's face, enjoying the contact of soft skin for a moment before moving in again. Then before Sam could say anything she left, closing the door behind her. That was enjoyable. Very. Anise answered wistfully. Remember your promise? Yes. We shall go see Colonel O'Neill later.

Fic: The Worst Whispers Come at Night. {SG1}

2006-01-15T14:02:47Z

Title: The Worst Whispers come at night.
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG just because.
Content Warnings: Angst
Summary: Daniel tries to help Sam deal with Jack's death.
Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author.
Clone Disclaimer: This story is mine all mine *manic laugh*. So if you want to reproduce it in any way . . . let me know K?

I thought the worst night of my life was a week after Jack died. Sam came to me and told me she was leaving the SGC, that it hurt too much to stay. I asked her if it hurt less to leave, and she said no, but she didn't know what else to do. We spent all night talking and not talking and all the stuff in between. She cried and I cried and we both cried together. I asked her what she would do if she left. She said she didn't know. I asked her what she would do if she stayed. She said she didn't know. I asked her what she wanted. She said she wanted to be away from here, as far away as she could get. I asked her what else she wanted. She said she wanted to stay as close to the Stargate as possible. She was confused and hurt and tired. She was listless and restless, unable to stop moving but desperate to find a place to sit down. She kept looking out the window, waiting for dawn I think. Everything will look brighter in the morning. Bullshit. Nothing looked better in the morning. Except I asked her to move in and she said yes. I think it was the only compromise her mind would allow her. Leave and stay at once.

Then I thought the worst night of my life was the night she moved in. I listened to her pace in her room for hours. She didn't even try to go to sleep, didn't even lie down. I wanted to go to her but her door was locked and she ignored my calls, pleas, and threats to open the door. I spent the entire night sitting with my back against the wall in hopes she would come to her senses. She never did. In the morning she opened the door, took a shower, had some coffee and went to work. When I asked her about it she pretended not to know what I was talking about, but the next night she didn't even go to her room, she followed me to my bed and slipped in as if she belonged there, as if she had always been there. And damn it, that's what it felt like.

Then I thought the worst night of my life was the night when I woke up and she was kneeling on the bed clawing at the sheets like she was trying to dig her way into the mattress, or dig something or someone out. When I grabbed her to try to get to her to stop, to wake up, she let out a scream that was a cross between a wounded animal and a madman set loose on his demons. I spent the rest of the night holding her, rocking her, whispering reassurances in her ear, kissing the top of her head. She fell asleep in my arms, still clinging to me like I was her lifeline. When I asked her about it the next morning, she said she didn't remember what she dreamt about.

Then I thought the worst night of my life was the night when I woke up and she was curled in a fetal position, flinching and whimpering. I woke her up prepared to comfort her, to hold her, to rock her, to whisper reassurances in her ear, to kiss the top of head, to have her fall asleep in my arms still clinging to me like a lifeline. But she jerked away from me the minute she realized who I was. She spent the rest of the night sitting on the chair that I had brought in from the living room because there had been no place to put it. She sat there on that old overstuffed tacky chair and looked at me like I had betrayed her, and I spent the rest of the night leaning up against the headboard trying get her to talk. She kept looking at the window, waiting for dawn I think. Everything will look brighter in the morning. Bullshit.

But no. The worst night of my life was the one when she didn't come to bed at all. When she said she was going to stay up a few minutes longer and ended up sleeping on the couch. I don't know what happened that night, and I think that that's probably why it was the worst. I keep thinking that maybe if I had been there to wake her from the nightmare, to tell her that she wasn't alone . . . If I was there to hold her, to rock her, to whisper reassurances in her ear, to kiss the top of her head, or just sit there and try to get her to talk, that she wouldn't have managed to build the walls so high.

That was the worst night of my life because I wasn't there and I didn't know what happened. But that night she stopped talking to me. Not like she had been the greatest of conversationalists before, but after that night she wouldn't talk to me. Not unless I asked her a direct question, and even then it was usually answered with a nod, a shrug, a shake, or a monosyllable.

So now I stand here in the hall next to the bathroom; she wants in, I want out. It's one of those comical situations you find yourself in sometimes. You move to your left, the guy moves to his right, and then again, until one of you doesn't move and you can move forward. But not here, not now. She moves to her left, I move to my right, and again. I mirror her actions, not letting her pass. I think maybe if I frustrate her enough she'll say something to me more than 'sure' or 'no' or any of the other single word single movement answers she's been using.

"Daniel," she says in resigned annoyance. If I continue this she'll just give up, walk away until I move and then she'll come back. "Daniel." She says again softly this time pleading with me.

"Sam." I say, not a little cruelly, totally unfair I know but I can't help myself. She lowers her head in surrender and makes to move away. I sigh, my resolve crumbling. "Sam," I call. She turns back to me and I move, allowing her into the bathroom.

Next time. I tell myself. Next time. Next time I'll push her enough for her to push back. Push enough for her to have to look over the walls she's built around herself. Or push her hard enough for her to feel uncomfortable enough to leave, to run away from me and live alone within her walls, away from anyone that can hurt her.

Next time.

I thought I hurt after Jack died. I thought mourning for him was the lowest point of my life. I loved him. I just didn't love him enough. My love for him was immature, just a combination of the remains of a teenage crush that I never had and my natural need to rebel against authority, another remembrance of my adolescence. I loved him, and he loved me. I liked knowing that. It was a nice feeling to have, knowing that someone loves you. His love for me wasn't immature, it just wasn't evolved. His love for me was the combination of his ego - I was his second in command, his subordinate, his caveman instinct was to love me - and his hormones. I'm an attractive blond, I know I'm attractive I see no reason to pretend I don't. He had seen me naked more than once. Sometimes it just couldn't be helped.

He knew I knew he loved me. He also knew it wasn't a romantic love; we flirted because it was fun. It was a game, it would never be serious. We knew that.

It hurt to lose Jack, it hurt even more to realize I could lose Daniel just as easily. I wanted to pull away but he wouldn't let me. I went to his house one night. I wanted to say good-bye. Love shouldn't hurt this much. I'm not sure what happened, all I can remember was looking out the window and praying for dawn. I hate the night now. The night has its own brand of clarity, different from the day's. Warped somehow, or at least if you consider day clarity normal. Night time makes me see things, wish things, want things. Things I have no right wanting.

In the morning he asked me to move in with him. Daytime said that it was OK, that he was a friend, that I could keep myself from loving him. Daytime said that maybe, just maybe, he could help get rid of the silence that's been growing in me. So I did.

I could hear him that night. Knocking then banging on my door, trying everyway he could to get me to come out. I didn't want to come out, I wanted to go further in. If there had been a room inside that room I would have gone there and deeper and deeper until I was so far away I wouldn't have been able to hear his banging. Daytime said forget it. Daytime said deny it. So I did.

I don't know why I followed him to bed; I just knew that I couldn't let him out of my sight. Nighttime said that he could disappear at any moment. Nighttime said stay close to him. So I did. Daytime said that it was OK, that he was a friend, that I could keep myself from loving him. Daytime said that maybe, just maybe, he could stop the nightmares. Daytime lied.

The nightmares continued. One was almost a memory, the last time I had gone through the Stargate. First the ground would start shaking, the rocks would start sliding, then that sickening thud of a body being covered, buried, entombed by those same rocks. Only it's not Jack that's trapped, its Daniel, and the other aren't with me, I'm alone. In the dream we don't get Jack out and watch him bleed to death, in the dream I can't even get to him. I dig and I dig and I dig and I dig and I can't get to him. And I wake up and before I moved in with Daniel I would wake up to ripped sheets and . . . but now I wake up and he's there and I don't know what hurts more. The dream or him being there, being in the same bed and not know the cause of my pain. I won't tell, I'll never tell.

The other one is worse. I'm in a small small place, it's dark and cold and silent and dead. I can hear Daniel near me, outside this place and I know he can help me, but he doesn't. And in my dream I know it's because he doesn't love me, because I don't deserve him. Before I moved in with Daniel I wouldn't wake up, I would stay trapped there all night, but now I wake up and the night whispers to me. Whispers that it's all true, that he doesn't love me, that I don't deserve him. All I can do is wait for the day and its own terrible whispers.

That's the dream that finally got me. When I finally managed to wake myself up and he wasn't there. Not his fault, I was the one who fell asleep on the couch . . . still it hurt, and made the Nighttime whispers seem true.

I need help, but I can't get the words to come. And everyday more and more words disappear. I force them out for Daniel, so that he won't worry, but I know he does anyway. There's only one word that comes out easily now.

Daniel.

Daniel help me, please.

Fic: Campfire {SG1}

2006-01-15T14:01:16Z

Title: Campfire.
Category: PWP
Spoilers: None
Rating:PG-13.
Content Warnings: Oh a bit of foreplay, nothing really serious.
Summary: Sex around a campfire on an alien planet.
Not Mine Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
Don't Like Don't Read Disclaimer: This story deals about two women who love each other, sorta. Face it, it happens. Anyway I'm giving you a fair warning so if you don't like it don't read it.
Clone Disclaimer: This story is mine all mine *manic laugh*. So if you want to reproduce it in any way . . . let me know K?

<lj-cut text="Campfire." All in all it had not been a bad mission. P3X-919 was a lush tropical world with friendly inhabitants. Not something SG1, or any other SG team, saw a lot. During their stay and negotiations in the main village SG1 had discovered that the inhabitants of this world (which were relatively few, only five main villages) were suffering from a severe population decline, and at the rate they were going within 4 generations the gene pool would have been almost completely destroyed. They had brought a team of doctors (including the CMO) to determine the problem and Janet had found out it had to do with the water source containing a chemical which made it hard for woman to conceive and carry children. And so the negotiations ended with the Tau'ri promising water purification tablets and the knowledge to make their own for the inhabitants and the inhabitants granted unlimited access to the ruins that seemed to be of Goa'uld origin that Daniel had immediately spotted upon SG1's arrival, and the old abandoned Naquada mine that Sam had detected. So with that taken care of the team of doctors left along with the soldiers that had accompanied them. SG1 and Dr. Janet Fraiser stayed behind to tie up a few loose ends and enjoy the villager's hospitality. But as a wise man, or a drunken man, once said, all good things must come to an end. SG1 had to return to earth sometime and finally they had to admit that it was time to go home. The trek from the Stargate to the village that they were staying in was a day and half, they started off in the morning with a the early risers wishing them well and the crisp morning frost gently biting their ears and speeding their steps. As the day progressed the morning chill abated and changed into gently warm weather the pace slowed, much to Janet's delight. Being the shortest in the bunch she had the shortest stride and had to constantly jog every couple of yards to make sure that she didn't slow them down. This slow, almost leisurely pace suited her just fine. Around mid-day Colonel O'Neill called a halt for lunch. Cold meat and cooked vegetables given to them by the villagers before they left took place of the MREs, and afterwards, since they weren't in any hurry, a relaxed hour spent snoozing and digesting. "Doctor's orders." Janet had said, and no one complained. Sitting on either side of the trail, leaning against trees and rocks, eyes closing slowly and opening just as slowly. A warm breeze passed through the trees making the shadows dance to the sound of the rustling leaves. "OK campers." Jacks slightly sleep slurred voice ordered. Many playful groans were issued as the party stood. "Let's get home." The afternoon was spent pretty much as the morning had, and evening found SG1 plus one sitting in companionable silence around the campfire. "Carter you take first watch," Jack said yawning, "I'll take second, Teal'c you got the last one. Danny," Daniel's head jerked up at the sound of his name. "You're off tonight." Daniel raised a half-hearted fist into the air in a victorious sign. "Right, I'm going to hit the hay. See ya in a couple of hours Carter." "Good night Sir." Teal'c and Daniel soon followed Jack into the tent that they had set up earlier. The fire was warm enough when you were awake but the nights on that planet tended to be chilly. With only two people the companionable silence turned slightly uncomfortable and Janet moved closer to Sam so that a whispered conversation would be possible. "Sam?" The blond had followed the doctor's movements out of the corners of her eyes but now turned to fully look at her. "Janet?" Fire dancing in chocolate brown eyes captivated her, held her, made her want to drown in them and never return. "Tell me something Sam." Those eyes were full of mischief that forced Sam to hold back a smile in an attempt to at least pretend to be serious. "I thought this planet was safe. So why is there a need for a guard?" Sam fought down a smile that wanted to escape from is confines and spread across her face until Janet would be forced to do the same. "Well there aren't any unfriendly natives to worry about," She explained in mock seriousness. "But there are wild animals, though the fire should take care of that." She motioned to the burning wood with her head. It let out a peculiar smell, of blossoming flowers and smoke, it had made them all slightly dizzy at first, but soon enveloped them in a warm cocoon that made each think of a different season. "However it's protocol so . . ." She let the sentence trail off knowing that Janet wasn't really asking about the guard. Finally Janet smiled, and Sam allowed her own to burst through, and soon the two women were grinning at each other. "So if I did this." Janet shifted and pushing Sam against the tree she had been almost leaning on and straddled the blond's legs. "It would be ok?" Sam raised her arms so that she was holding onto Janet's waist. "Fine by me." She said softly. Janet smiled. "And if I did this," She leaned forward and brushed her lips against Sam's. "You wouldn't mind?" "Not particularly." Sam tried to say casually, failing miserably. Janet squirmed, causing Sam to bite her lip to keep in a groan, and moved her hips closer to Sam's. She tilted her head and bent forward allowing her lips to caress the soft skin beneath the blond's jaw. "And this?" She whispered as she moved her hands down Sam's shoulders to gently cup the other woman's breasts, teasing her nipples with her thumbs. She smiled at the soft sigh that escaped her lover's lips, and felt the grip on her waist loosen and then tighten as she gently pinched the nipples she had teased to erection. A surprised "Janet" followed a sharp intake of breath. "Yes?" She asked, still nibbling Sam's neck. "Don't stop." Came the breathless response. Janet raised her head to look Sam in the eyes, trying to communicate the intense feelings with a look. "Wasn't planning on it hon." She said and moved in for a passionate kiss. Inside the tent Jack turned away from the small opening in the flap to make sure that Daniel was still asleep and that Teal'c was . . . doing whatever Teal'c did. Then, almost against his will, his eyes returned to the hole and the women outside. Tsk tsk Major. He thought amused. That's not what you do during your watch. All thoughts of a reprimand left his mind as a soft gasp reached his ears. Well maybe just this once.

Fic: We, Us {SG1}

2006-01-15T13:59:28Z

Title: We, Us.
Not Mine Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
Don't Like Don't Read Disclaimer: This story deals about two women who love each other. Face it, it happens. Anyway I'm giving you a fair warning so if you don't like it don't read it.
Clone Disclaimer: This story is mine all mine *manic laugh*. So if you want to reproduce it in any way . . . let me know K?
Author's Notes: Thank you to the Permutations list for beta'ing.
Other than that . . . Enjoy.
Rating: PG-13 (Just to be on the safe side).
Summary: Some people forget, Teal'c made the first shot.

Cheyenne mountain was nothing more than a big hill really. But it was the best she could get on short notice. They had barely allowed her outside the base . . . there was no doubt that with the President still there she would not be able to leave for a while. So she had climbed as far as she could and stood, watching the stars, letting the tears fall, letting the pain ebb and flow, allowing the part of her that was Jolinar mourn the passing of her mates.

Strong arms wrapped around her unexpectedly. Sam leaned back into the embrace, for once not minding that he had snuck up on her. She needed some strong arms to hold her right now.

"Samantha." He whispered next to her neck, his voice vibrating through her whole body.

Sam sighed and pressed further into the safe circle of his arms, allowing herself to feel comforted. Tears had streamed down her face before, but now had slowed to a trickle, slipping down her cheeks at a leisurely pace.

"Samantha," he said again, "come inside. It is getting cold."

Sam nodded and allowed him to her lead back into the base. She wouldn't have minded if he carried her then. Wouldn't have minded looking up into his face with his strong solid heartbeat again her ear. She wouldn't have minded floating in his scent as his steady strides brought her closer and closer to his bed. No, she wouldn't have minded if he held her then.

But he wouldn't do that, he would be the perfect gentleman if he thought that they would be seen. He wasn't thinking of himself, he was thinking of her; her career, her reputation. He had nothing to prove.

So instead of basking in his essence Sam walked in front of him. If anyone saw them they would think that she was leading him somewhere, where in truth it was the other way 'round.

Using gentle touches and almost silent signals Teal'c lead her to his room. She had a feeling that they would end up there, but still she was relieved. She wanted to be with him now. Desperately wanted to lose herself in him.

Sam closed her eyes as they entered his room. She loved this part, this stepping into another world. Loved the candles that flickered in the draft of the air conditioning system. Loved the smell of melting wax and Teal'c. Loved . . . this room was him, and she loved stepping into him.

She turned around as soon as he had locked the door, ready to rip off his shirt. Ready to wrap her hands around his neck and press his lips against hers. Ready to . . .

Teal'c wrapped his hands around her wrists. Stopping her actions.

"Samantha," His voice was so tortured . . . it made Sam feel like she was about to cry again. She didn't want to cry anymore. She wanted to forget, to lose herself in him, to feel . . . anything but this pain that seemed to throb inside her with every beat of her heart. "We have to talk."

The desperation in her eyes almost made him give up, almost made him let go of her arms and . . .but no. The same desperation in her eyes that made him want to give in to her needs, also increased his determination to do this.

"Please." That seemed to do it. Sam nodded and, when he had let her go, sat down on the bed. He seemed bigger than life from her position on the bed, that is . . . until he knelt in down in front of her. Taking a deep breath, he took her hands in his, and for a moment Sam allowed herself to marvel at the difference in their colors, in the beauty it created in the candle-light.

"Samantha," he said, his voice somehow not disturbing the silence of the room. "I wish to express my deepest apologies at my contribution to the events of today." Sam bowed her head and clenched her teeth against the memories that attempted to flood her. Martouf on his knees, Martouf pleading, Martouf . . .

Teal'c took her head in his hands and forced her to look at him again.

"Samantha, please," his voice was husky with beseeching. "I must know . . . I must know if you can ever forgive me." He looked more uncertain than Sam had ever seen him. "And I must know . . . if you do not hate me?"

Sam looked into his pleading eyes, confused. "Hate you?" She whispered, "Why?" She had to swallow before she could continue. "Why would I hate you?" This time it was Teal'c that looked down.

"I am partially responsible for your pain." She was grateful for his tact, grateful he didn't mention name. "I was the one who shot him initially." It was true. The realization shook her to her core. They had killed him together. She had fired the killing shot, but Teal'c had made it possible.

There was enough room between him and the bed for her to be able to kneel in front of him and wrap her arms around his neck.

"We killed him together." She said in awe, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm not alone." It was a wonderful realization for her, it was as if someone had walked past and straightened her life as if it were a crooked picture on a wall. She wasn't alone in her pain, wasn't alone in her guilt. "Oh God, I'm not alone!"

He held her close as she sobbed against him. Later when he took her to his bed, he stroked her hair as she climaxed, bringing her down to earth gently. She had forgiven him, he knew, gave him sweet pardon for all his sins. But it would take a lot longer for her to forgive herself.

Fic: Queer {SG1}

2006-01-15T13:57:03Z

Title: Queer.
Category: Angst.
Spoilers: None
Rating:PG-13.
Content Warnings: None.
Summary: Sam killed Martouf in Divide And Conquer, in the next episode she was smiling. Why?
Not Mine Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
Don't Like Don't Read Disclaimer: This story deals about two women who love each other, sorta. Face it, it happens. Anyway I'm giving you a fair warning so if you don't like it don't read it.
Clone Disclaimer: This story is mine all mine *manic laugh*. So if you want to reproduce it in any way . . . let me know K?

. . .
The queerest of the queer
Hide inside your head
The blindest of the blind
The deadest of the dead
You're hungry `cause you starve
While holding back the tears
Choking on your smile
A fake behind the fear
The queerest of the queer
. . .
"Queer" Garbage

I stopped crying when I left the gateroom. When they pulled his body away from me, not noticing, or choosing to ignore, the way I held on to him until the last possible moment.

Daniel helped me up, Janet cleaned me off, and an airman drove me home. I don't think I said 'thank you' to any of them. I don't care.

I whisper his name sometimes. Into my pillow, or a wall as my head rests against it. I scribble his name all over my notepad in Goa'uld. I remember how from Jolinar. I put it through the shredder when I run out of room, then I start again. I can go like that for hours. The general hasn't complained about my paperwork being late yet, but he's bound to soon.

Dad came. I almost wish he hadn't. I smiled and hugged him and said 'I'm fine'. I said 'Thanks for coming, but you really didn't have to'. I said 'Good-bye' and watched him leave. The smile stayed.

I still whisper his name into my pillow just to hear it. I still scribble his name over and over, but now I do it with a smile. It's frozen on my face, I can't get rid of it. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to explode from the difference in what I feel and how way I act.

Janet says I've lost weight. I shrug and smile, always smiling, and answer that 'you can't be too thin,' she laughs and says to keep an eye on it. I don't tell her that I only eat if someone's looking. That I've added blankets to my bed because I'm always so cold. I want to, but I don't, I can't. The words won't come out, won't even form, so instead I just smile. All the while I smile.

Fic: Give and Take

2006-01-15T13:55:36Z

Title: Give And Take.
Category: Romance.
Spoilers: None
Rating:PG-13.
Content Warnings: None.
Summary: They loved, they lived, the left.
Not Mine Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
Don't Like Don't Read Disclaimer: This story deals about two women who love each other, sorta. Face it, it happens. Anyway I'm giving you a fair warning so if you don't like it don't read it.
Clone Disclaimer: This story is mine all mine *manic laugh*. So if you want to reproduce it in any way . . . let me know K?

They didn't have to be stronge for one another. One of them wasn't always weak, wasn't always about to break down. But they liked it. They liked holding and being held and knowing that they were safe and knowing that they were making the other feel safe.

When she was weak, when she was hurting he would take her into his lap and she would cry into his neck, shaking, sobbing, shuddering for what seemed like hours to him. He always knew she would be ok, he always worried that she wouldn't. And when she was finished she would lick her tears off his skin, and push him back unto the bed where she would ride him until he lost control. Until she subdued him, until she took back the strength she had momentarily let go of. She would watch his face contort when he climaxed, pain and pleasure mingling to form a heavenly mask of wonderful agony. At that moment she was complete.

When he was weak he would bury his face in her lap, and she would stroke his skin where she could and kiss his head and love him in all the ways she could without words or sex. And when he was done he would lick his tears off her skin and push her back on the bed. He would make furious love to her, reclaiming the control he had temporarily given to her. He would hold off until he felt her approaching orgasm, and would let himself come only when she did. In this way he proved to her that he was once again in control of himself, that she no longer needed to protect him, to worry for him.

When they were both weak they clung to each other desperately. Their skin almost fusing with the intensity of their need. And when they made love it was a gentle reassurance from both of them to both of them that they were safe, that they were loved, that nothing in the world could hurt them and no one could tear them appart.

When they were both strong their sex was wild and passonate to the point of madness. They would fight for control, wrestle for supremacy. Their room would be filled with barely controlled groans, captured moans, and laughter, always laughter. They would tire themselves out but not admit it until neither one could take it anymore and they would both collapse in a tangled heap of flesh and sweat and other things.

When they were tired, just tired. Not weak, or strong, or needy or needed, just tired. They wouldn't have sex at all, just collapse onto the bed next to each other, hands clasped tightly together and they would fall asleep, and dream sweet dreams of surrender and defiance, of giving and getting, of needing and being fulfilled. They were together even then. Even when it was only in dreams.

When they parted, as they knew they would have to eventually, they remembered each other with more than a little fondness, with more than a little longing. They would never find another that filled their missing halves as well, that gave as much as they took. That knew them and allowed them to live and never held it against them. As long as they lived they never knew such completeness again.

Fic: Burning Soldier: Lost at Sea. {SG1}

2006-01-15T13:54:27Z

Title: Burning Soldier: Lost At Sea.
Category: Angst
Spoilers: None
Rating:PG-13.
Content Warnings: Pain, grief, bummer.
Summary: Janet dies, Sam tries to deal..
Not Mine Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
Don't Like Don't Read Disclaimer: This story deals about two women who love each other, sorta. Face it, it happens. Anyway I'm giving you a fair warning so if you don't like it don't read it.
Clone Disclaimer: This story is mine all mine *manic laugh*. So if you want to reproduce it in any way . . . let me know K?
Notes: Thank you to the permie's list for beta'ing and special thanks to Susan . . . for finding those ickle mistakes that I keep making.

If she left the comfort of her bed in the three days following the accident it wasn't because she wanted to, it was because she didn't have the will to fight her well-meaning friends. If she ate it wasn't because of any need of hers to live, but because someone put a plate of food in front of her and wouldn't leave her alone until she had a few bites. If she touched anyone at all it wasn't because she was able to communicate her need to be held, but because Cassie crawled into her bed at night and the young girl's tears called to her.

She became a little more aware after the funeral. The sight of the coffin being lowered into the ground and the sound of the trumpets blowing a sad farewell seemed to snap her out of her grief-induced haze. With one hand she saluted, perfectly in sync with the other military personnel around her, with the other she held on to a smaller hand, offering a silent communication of understanding and love.

"Major Carter." If it had been anyone else she wouldn't have turned, would have gone home, sprawled out on the thick rug in front of the fireplace and finished the last of the ice cream with Cassie. Anything else would have been too bitter. They would have cried together, and talked about the good times, they would have laughed maybe, and then probably cried some more. And by the time the ice cream was all gone, they might have, just maybe, been ready to start healing. Gathering her wits about her, she turned toward the only voice she could not ignore.

"General." Her voice was hoarse, as though it had been dragged over sandpaper before being ripped unwillingly from her throat.

"Major, I need to talk to you," His eyes flickered to Cassandra and back to Sam, "privately."

Sam nodded and reluctantly released her hold on the child's hand, stroking her hair before finally moving away with Hammond. When they were out of earshot, Sam looked back and saw that Cassie hadn't moved but was now surrounded by Daniel, Jack and Teal'c. They all looked so sad, and for a moment she wondered why. The realization came with a flinch that she hoped General Hammond had missed. If he hadn't, he didn't say anything.

"Major did you know that Dr. Fraiser had a will?" Sam nodded. It made sense that she would have. "Do you know what it says?"

Sam shook her head. "We never talked about it." And they hadn't, preferring to spend their time in the present. The future was so unpredictable, they had been selfish in their joy, not wanting the responsibility of things that might happen.

"In her will Dr. Fraiser left instructions as to the care of her estate, and also what should happen to Cassandra." Now Hammond started speaking quickly, as though he just wanted this thing said so that they could move on. "Janet asked me to take care of Cassandra should something happen to her."

It took a moment for Sam to assimilate his words. It was just so strange hearing Janet's name from his mouth that the rest of the words just didn't register as anything but meaningless sounds. But when they did . . .

It felt as if she were floating in a sea of pain: waves of hurt, confusion, anger and a terrible feeling of abandonment flowed through her. It took all her will power and then some not to double over; her hands tried to clench into fists, but only succeeded in tightening to a grotesque imitation of a claw. The muscles in her face froze until her expression was as empty as a statue's, and all the while she was fighting back a scream that was trying to kick its way out of her chest.

"Of course you'll still be able to see her." The General continued quickly, trying in vain to reassure his Major that he was not ripping away a child he knew she cared about so desperately. "Major Carter, are you alright?" The complete stupidity of the question added another struggle in Sam, not to laugh. As if the overload caused a shutdown, Sam felt everything in her freeze. It was enough so that she could talk without worrying about losing control.

"How long do I have?" Amazingly her tone conveyed only a small fraction of her pain. It was almost too much for the General anyway. He bowed his head slightly before answering.

"I think it would be best if we did it as soon as possible. Is a week from today acceptable?" It wasn't a question, not really. If she had said no, he wouldn't have given her an extension. Wouldn't have allowed her to cling to the last remains of the happiest time of her life. She nodded jerkily, her muscles fighting her at every step.

"Alright. We'll talk about the rest of the will when you get back to work." Sam walked away from him without answering, her mind racing, conceiving and dismissing plans to kidnap Cassie and take her far far away from anyone who would try to separate them. By the time she had reached the girl, she decided on the only thing she could do.

"Come on Cass," She managed to say neutrally. "Time to go."

"Where are we going Sam?" Cassie watched the scenery pass by through the window. They had been driving for hours, hadn't even stopped at the house. Sam was still in her dress uniform, and Cassie still in a dress, though her shoes were now thrown somewhere in the back. They had taken Daniel's car; he had driven back with Jack. "Sam?"

"Hmm?" The blond was a million miles away sitting behind the steering wheel. Cassie wished they weren't in a car. She wished that they were on the back of Sam's bike, riding so fast that nothing existed except them and the hum of the engine beneath them. She wanted to rest her head between Sam's shoulder blades and feel the tension drain out of them. She wanted to forget the past week, wanted to forget the nightmares that forced her to crawl in Sam's bed - just Sam's bed now, Janet was gone. Cassie closed her eyes and leaned back into the seat as hard as she could.

"You didn't thank them." She told Sam, opening her eyes and turning toward the window. A green sign whooshed passed them, next exit 20 miles.

"Who?"

Cassandra couldn't be sure if Sam was actively listening to her or not, but the silence was too disturbing for her to keep quiet.

"Jack, Daniel and Teal'c." She turned her head back to Sam. "You didn't thank them for helping out." Truthfully she wasn't even sure that Sam knew that the three stooges had tried to be helpful. They had called it shock. Shock when they brought Sam home from the hospital, she couldn't drive herself, because of shock. Shock when her other mother had stared right through her as if she were transparent, like the car window. Shock when she couldn't even tell her that Janet had died. It was scary. And now? She seemed to be coming back, but . . . "Teal'c is a pretty good cook. Better than Jack or Daniel at least. Mom's still the best though." This time there wasn't even a hmmm, just a chocked whimper. "Oh yeah." She'd almost forgotten. Cassie returned her gaze to the window - not much, just trees, the street. The ground was dark, maybe there was a river near by, it looked wet. "Sam?" she tried again. "Where are we going?" For the first time since they got in the car, Sam actually looked at her.

"Somewhere we can scream."

"You don't love me?" The question, almost statement, from the girl came after minutes of torturous silence. It had taken Sam almost an hour to explain to Cassie what a Will was, how it worked, what it meant to have one. But it took only five minutes to tell her what Hammond had told her, and what it meant. Then she had given the girl time to process the information.

They had ended up in Sam's old family cabin. She hadn't been up here in years, but she and Mark split the monthly fee to have it cleaned and maintained. It was small, consisted of three rooms, one half was the living room/kitchen area, the other was split into two bedrooms. She had spent the whole ride trying to figure out what to tell the girl. What would hurt the least to tell her, what she deserved to know, what she needed to know, and how the hell Sam would get up the courage to tell her. In the end it had been after dinner, frozen pizza from the last gas station they had passed. She didn't know what they would do for breakfast, or sleep in.

"More than anything." The sincerity in her voice couldn't be questioned. Cassandra was on the verge of tears, but her posture warned Sam away from trying to comfort her.

"Then why won't you fight for me?" Sam felt ill, her head throbbed, and she had chills running through her body. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and hide under the covers. Or run away as fast as she could, screaming the air out of her lungs, or both.

"Because you're special Cassandra," "Because you're not even supposed to exist, because if I challenged this it would do nothing but cause you trouble. The only reason you're allowed outside a special military facility is because you can be invisible. You're so good at blending in Cass, you might have been born here. If our lives were average, if you been born here, if I didn't do what I did for a living, if a custody battle would take place in a regular civilian court, I would fight this until I couldn't stand. And I probably would have won. But that's not what we have to work with." Cautiously Sam reached over the table to take the girl's hand in her own. "It'll be Okay," she reassured. "We'll still see each other."

Cassie jerked her hand out of Sam's grip. "Can I go sleep now?"

Sam looked down at the table top and nodded. "Yeah, door on the left."

Sam sat against the trunk at the foot of the bed, forehead resting on her arms. The floor was cold against her bare feet, the trunk was even colder against her back. She had tried the bed, but her body kept trying to find a warm body next to her. So she had crawled out and onto the floor. Even the stars shining through the window did nothing to brighten her night.

Approaching footsteps gave her enough warning so she wasn't surprised when the door opened.

"Sam?" The blond looked up miserably. "C-can I . . ?" Cassie left the question unfinished, too afraid of the answer. Sam opened her arms in invitation. Gratefully, the girl crawled into Sam's embrace.

"Always Cass, always." Morning found the two still curled on the floor. A blanket had found its way to them sometime during the night, and if you looked closely, and tilted your head just so, they looked like a sunrise.

She hadn't screamed up at the cabin, or all through the next week. If Cassie noticed that Sam's laugh was a little hollow, a little less rich than it used to be . . . well she was still too angry with her to say anything.

The day Cassandra left, Sam fixed them a huge breakfast. Scrambled eggs, and toast, and pancakes and biscuits. And when General Hammond came to take her, the two clung to each other for a long time before saying good-bye .

Sam watched the car disappear from the middle of the road, and even then she didn't scream.

"Sam, you can't keep doing this to yourself." Sam looked up at Daniel from her porcelain hell through half-lidded eyes. The headache that had started at the cabin hadn't gone away, but was now accompanied by crippling nausea.

"I'm not doing anything to myself Daniel," she forced out. "Amazingly enough this is something I have little control over."

The nausea had started the day General Hammond had come to take Cassandra and hadn't let up since. The look on her face anytime anyone even mentioned a doctor was the only thing that kept her team-mates from taking her to the hospital.

"Sam, this is serious."

"Don't worry, it'll be gone by the time I get back to work."

And it was. Two weeks after the funeral Sam was back at work. A little thinner, a little quieter, and much more professional with General Hammond, but back. If it killed her a little bit every time she went to the infirmary, if it hurt her more to go home, if it took every ounce of strength she had not to put a gun to Hammond's head and demand he give her Cassandra back, it didn't show . . . much.

They said it was faulty electrical wiring, probably there for years, just a matter of time really. If anyone realized that Sam knew enough about electronics to make it look like that they didn't give it a second thought. After all, Sam was the victim in this fire, right? The insurance policy had ended the day before, as fate would have it, and Sam didn't have enough money to rebuild.

If anyone noticed through the sirens, and flames, and firemen, and watchers, a soot covered blond woman who had finally screamed as the flames consumed what remained of what used to be her happiness, no one said anything.

If Sam felt the tide of pain and anger, hurt and confusion, and horrible horrible abandonment start to go out, well, she was just grateful that she could finally start to heal.

Fic: Chasing Answers. {SG1}

2006-01-15T13:52:52Z

Title: Chasing Answers.
Category: Angst
Spoilers: Teeny Tiny one for Unnatural Selection, but it doesn't really give anything away.
Season: Season 6
Pairing: none
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: You can spend your life chasing answers.
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).

It was easier than she thought it would be. She just dropped off a letter on Hammond's desk while he was at lunch and within an hour she was at the airport taking the first plane out. She ended up in New York and decided that as long she was here she might as well keep going. And that's how she ended up in Israel. Then, since the only two cities she knew about in Israel were Jerusalem and Tel-Aviv, and she'd had enough of Gods and religion to last her a lifetime, she ended up in Tel-Aviv.

The twelve hours of flying caught up with her and she checked into the first hotel she saw and slept, and when she woke up, she turned over and went back to sleep, and repeated this until her eyes refused to close. Then she got up, took a shower and put on the only spare cloths she had brought had with her. Her first day in the city a bus exploded a street away from her. Her first instinct was to go help, but this wasn't her country and she wouldn't know what to do anyway. So she went back to the hotel and turned on the news. Two dead, 17 injured with another two not expected to live. Sam didn't know what to do. How was she supposed to deal with something so close and yet so distant from her? In the end she turned off the lights, muted the sound and crawled back under the covers, but this time she didn't sleep.

That evening she went to the place where the explosion had occurred seven hours before. There was no trace of the destroyed bus. Very few of the explosion itself, people walked back and forth, young people going to clubs or bars, laughing with friends, singing songs at the top of their lungs. A mother was dragging a screaming child behind her, yelling something Sam didn't understand. Daniel would have, maybe, she never did ask exactly which twenty-three languages he knew.

It wasn't that late and the streets were still crowded with people going from here to there, some of them pointed at the place where the bus had been, but most walked past as it was just any other place, any other street, as if someone hadn't blown himself up there. There was no pink elephant standing in the street, they all knew, accepted, moved on.

She wondered how they had learned to live with this, and how they justified learning to live with it. She wondered when exactly did they notice that they no longer stopped living at every suicide bombing, when they stopped playing the sad songs on the radio, when they stopped avoiding crowded places, because the groups standing outside the restaurant defiantly seemed like a crowd.

She turned around and went back to her hotel, ordered a light dinner from room service, the next day she checked out, grabbed a taxi and then a plane, and thanks to the time difference she landed in New York five hours after taking off.

It was easier than she thought it would be. Just a phone call to make sure she still had a job.

'What letter of resignation, Major? All I have here is a request for some leave.'

And that was that. She still didn't have any answers. She still didn't know how she was ever supposed to look him in the eye again. She still didn't know what to do about the fact that she could make a promise in one breath and break it in another. She still didn't know what to do about the fact that she was and always will be part alien. But maybe there were no answers, maybe she just had to accept, grieve, move on, maybe she just had to live her life, and you just can't live in fear.

Fic: Hysterical paralysis {B5}

2006-01-15T13:50:19Z

Title: "Hysterical paralysis"
Summary: Marcus is dead. And he tries to help Susan deal with it.
Disclaimer: They ain't mine. They belong to JMS, I just borrowed 'em for awhile.
Spoiler warning: Last couple of Eps in Season 4.

"Hysterical paralysis" they called it. At least that's what she heard Stephen say to Sheridan when he came to check up on her.

After spilling the contents of her heart to Stephen she had found that she couldn't move her legs . . . so Stephen kept her in medlab until it wore off. Two days . . . two days that seemed like a lifetime. Thinking back she knew that if she had been able to move she would have found the deepest darkest hole on the station and . . . she didn't know what. As it was she spent the two days following Marcus' death lying in a bed staring at the ceiling. She didn't talk to anyone . . . anyone alive anyway.

At Marcus she yelled . . . called him every name in the book, and a few that weren't, not out loud, but in her mind she lost her voice from screaming. She was sure that he was there in the room with her, looking at her with those amazing green eyes of his, waiting for her to calm down.

Then she had a long conversation with God, begged and pleaded to wake up from this nightmare, but like Marcus who just stood at the end of her bed and looked at her lovingly, God did not answer. Eventually the anger went away, and so did the paralysis. Stephen let her go back to her quarters with the instructions to get plenty of rest . . .even he knew that was too much to hope for.

She did go back to her quarters; she changed into her nightdress and sat down on the couch. She poured herself a tall glass of Vodka, and waited. It wasn't long before she felt his presence again: the unmistakable sense of Marcus. Maybe it was her latent telepathy but for some reason she always knew when he was with her. And he was here now . . .He was sitting right next to her. She was afraid to turn her head . . .afraid of what she'd see . . . or what she wouldn't see. After a while she felt something . . . a touch or rather the memory of a touch that never happened . . . at least not by that particular hand. A gentle touch on her neck, like a finger searching for her pulse, ending in a caress.

**You're alive . . .** The thought whispered in her mind, and for the first time since her mother died she didn't flinch at the contact but instead took comfort from it.

*-*But you're not,*-* she responded. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. The tall glass of Vodka stood on the table in front of her . . . full.

**I haven't been alive in a long time.** The touch moved to stroke her hair. **It just took some time before my body realized it.** A hint of humour, ghostly, like the touch on her neck lingered in her mind.

*-*Why?*-* She knew why, she just wanted to hear him say it, one last time. It was amazing but she could actually feel his smile.

**I love you Susan Ivanova.** The memory of a kiss that had never happened -at least not by those particular lips- brushed her lips. **Remember Susan, you're alive.** She felt a breeze pass through the room, and the essence, the eggs-and-bacon, roses, Minbari bed, White Star, pikes and British accent that was Marcus, left.

"But you're not," insisted Susan to the empty room. She picked up the glass of Vodka and drained it quickly. "But you're not."

Fic: Hysterical paralysis {B5}

2006-01-15T13:49:42Z

Title: "Hysterical paralysis"
Summary: An old woman, Susan dies.
Disclaimer: They ain't mine. They belong to JMS, I just borrowed 'em for awhile.
Spoiler warning: Last couple of Eps in Season 4.

"Hysterical paralysis" they called it. At least that's what she heard Stephen say to Sheridan when he came to check up on her.

After spilling the contents of her heart to Stephen she had found that she couldn't move her legs . . . so Stephen kept her in medlab until it wore off. Two days . . . two days that seemed like a lifetime. Thinking back she knew that if she had been able to move she would have found the deepest darkest hole on the station and . . . she didn't know what. As it was she spent the two days following Marcus' death lying in a bed staring at the ceiling. She didn't talk to anyone . . . anyone alive anyway.

At Marcus she yelled . . . called him every name in the book, and a few that weren't, not out loud, but in her mind she lost her voice from screaming. She was sure that he was there in the room with her, looking at her with those amazing green eyes of his, waiting for her to calm down.

Then she had a long conversation with God, begged and pleaded to wake up from this nightmare, but like Marcus who just stood at the end of her bed and looked at her lovingly, God did not answer. Eventually the anger went away, and so did the paralysis. Stephen let her go back to her quarters with the instructions to get plenty of rest . . .even he knew that was too much to hope for.

She did go back to her quarters; she changed into her nightdress and sat down on the couch. She poured herself a tall glass of Vodka, and waited. It wasn't long before she felt his presence again: the unmistakable sense of Marcus. Maybe it was her latent telepathy but for some reason she always knew when he was with her. And he was here now . . .He was sitting right next to her. She was afraid to turn her head . . .afraid of what she'd see . . . or what she wouldn't see. After a while she felt something . . . a touch or rather the memory of a touch that never happened . . . at least not by that particular hand. A gentle touch on her neck, like a finger searching for her pulse, ending in a caress.

**You're alive . . .** The thought whispered in her mind, and for the first time since her mother died she didn't flinch at the contact but instead took comfort from it.

*-*But you're not,*-* she responded. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. The tall glass of Vodka stood on the table in front of her . . . full.

**I haven't been alive in a long time.** The touch moved to stroke her hair. **It just took some time before my body realized it.** A hint of humour, ghostly, like the touch on her neck lingered in her mind.

*-*Why?*-* She knew why, she just wanted to hear him say it, one last time. It was amazing but she could actually feel his smile.

**I love you Susan Ivanova.** The memory of a kiss that had never happened -at least not by those particular lips- brushed her lips. **Remember Susan, you're alive.** She felt a breeze pass through the room, and the essence, the eggs-and-bacon, roses, Minbari bed, White Star, pikes and British accent that was Marcus, left.

"But you're not," insisted Susan to the empty room. She picked up the glass of Vodka and drained it quickly. "But you're not."

Fic: Truth Is... {B5}

2006-01-15T13:47:17Z

Title: Truth Is...
Summary: Set after Divided Loyalties. Susan thinks.
Disclaimer: They ain't mine. They belong to JMS and TNT (I think).

I can feel their eyes on me. I can hear their whispers that they, in fear or respect, will never say.

She had her in her quarters, how could she not have known?

The truth is I didn't know, she distracted me. Anytime I came close to thinking that maybe, just maybe she was the one - the spy - she would distract me. I can see it now, but you know what they say about hindsight.

I want a drink, and I'm afraid of my own company, so I came here. I thought maybe here I could escape myself. Escape the thoughts running through my head. The voices that call me weak, that call me blind.

And yes I admit I was blind. Lyta said that the implanted personality couldn't be reached even by a deep scan. She said that there was no way of knowing who it was . . . But that's not true. One could see it plainly if one bothered to look, if one knew what to look for.

The Program is complete. The Talia you knew no longer exists.

How did she know? How did she know the exact words that would drive daggers into my heart? One dagger for every syllable, sixteen in all. Sixteen daggers straight through my heart. How did she know? Duh. Stupid question. She knew me as well as Talia did. Only she didn't have the kindness Talia did, not to make the connections. There was nothing to stop her from seeing all my strings, and absolutely no reason not to pull them.

They slept together I hear the unspoken whispers. How could she not have known?

Truth is we didn't sleep together. Not in the way they imagine it anyway.

Truth is I think I would probably be better off right now if that was all that we had done. No that's not how she distracted me.

She did it in a far more efficient and affective way.

She held me.

I know what you're thinking. Doesn't take much, does it? But you're wrong.

She held me. I haven't been held since Mamma was put on sleepers. I remember so clearly the last time she held me.

It was the night before her thirty-fifth birthday. She sat on my bed and held me as she read me a bedtime story.

The next day . . .

After she was put on sleepers she never held me. I think it was because she knew it wouldn't be the same. I sometimes wonder how she justified taking away that comfort from me, if she ever tried.

Ganya too suffered from this withdrawal, but it only hit him years later. When he learned about sex.

We were both away at school, Mamma had convinced Papa to send us away, and, while she still could, she kept finding reasons to keep moving me.

By the time I was twelve I had been in four different schools. That was when Ganya was expelled from his school and sent back home. Papa decided to take us both back, Mamma was too far gone to argue.

When I got home I asked Ganya what had happened. He looked at me very seriously and then burst out laughing.

"I fucked up." Was all he would say. Later I learned that he had snuck out (out) of his dorm at night and had been visiting the prostitutes in a nearby town. He had blown all of his pocket money, and had sold some of his things to pay for his excursions. He got hell from papa who made him pay back all the money he had spent. But at least he had found his comfort, cold and impersonal as it was.

I tried it then. No not paid, just found someone who didn't care how old I was. It was how I lost my virginity. On a soggy mattress behind some dumpsters.

I hated it. Later I would learn to enjoy sex for what it was and not for the empty hollow comfort that Ganya found so satisfying.

In a way I think it was good that he died a hero. His promiscuity would have gotten him in trouble, and I knew he would never have stopped.

So all it took was an embrace. Just two arms wrapped around me. That was all it had taken for me to forget my suspicions.

It filled me! It started a chain reaction in my stomach that blazed through my whole body and filled every hollow part. Every nook and cranny was filled and nothing, nothing, was overlooked.

The Talia you knew no longer exists.

And now I feel hollow again. I almost envy Ganya and his comfort in meaningless casual sex.

The bartender asks if I want another drink. I do.

If I can't fill up the void in my chest, I might as well try to forget it was ever full.

They slept together. I imagine them think. How could she not have known?

Truth is even if I had known, I don't think I would have cared.

Truth is, I still don't.

Not if she would hold me again.

Fic: Better Than Bad. {B5}

2006-01-15T13:43:28Z

Title: Better than bad.
Fandom: Babylon 5
Pairing: Talia/Susan/Marcus
Summary: My response to a Challenge. Write a Susan/Talia/Marcus threesome. Well its better than bad.

Not Mine Disclaimer: Babylon 5 and its characters are the property of J. Michael Straczynski, Warner Brothers, PTEN, and/or TNT. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
Clone Disclaimer: This story is mine all mine *manic laugh*. So if you want to reproduce it in any way . . . let me know K?

Susan couldn't believe it. They were back. Both of them. Talia and Marcus were back. By some miracle Talia had managed to overcome the implanted personality. She had fought it, using the gifts Ironhart had given her.

And Marcus, dear sweet noble stupid Marcus, Draal had brought him back. Had used the great machine and brought Marcus back from the brink of death.

They were both back. And they both still loved her.

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times, or rather the most confusing of times.

She could not choose between them. Both had saved her life in a way. Both had forced her to live. Talia had given her reason for a while. And Marcus had made it impossible for her to die.

She should have been ecstatic; instead she was here, in this dump getting drunk out of her bloody mind.

Talia was looking at Marcus with barely concealed hostility. Oh sod it, she didn't even bother to conceal it.

"Excuse me for breathing." Marcus said under his breath. The funny thing was, that was exactly what she was angry with him for. For breathing, for living, for threatening to take the only thing that had kept her sane all those months.

Susan had been the only reason why she hadn't given up. The only reason why she had fought the AP for the right to her own mind. It would have been so easy to just give in, to let the implant take over completely and wipe her out. Would have been so easy to have just let go, to die, to disappear.

But no. She had held on, had hidden herself until she had seen her chance. When the construct had become sloppy, when her mental back was turned. That was when she had struck. Had hit the AP with all the force she had Hiding away all those months she had had the time to explore the gifts that Ironhart had given her. To learn to use them to they're full potential. Theoretically anyway.

She had succeeded, but barely. She had been so weak afterwards. The problem with attacking yourself is that win or lose you feel it. After she had recovered sufficiently she had discovered that the AP had become a psi-cop. And while she found that fact slightly sickening, it made running away a lot easier. So one time while she was on a mission, she simply had herself killed. Or at least made it look like she had been killed. It had been easier than she had anticipated.

As far as Psi-Corps was concerned, she was dead. She had lain low for a while before starting the long and detoured journey back to Babylon 5. Back to the most precious thing she had ever been entrusted with. Susan's heart.

Marcus for the most part was still trying to recover from being dead. He still didn't understand why Draal had brought him back to life; hell he still didn't understand Draal. But he did know that now that he was alive again he wouldn't make the same mistakes.

As soon as Draal had said that he was well enough to return to Babylon 5, Marcus had contacted the station and had someone bring him back. He had gotten some funny looks, but most just accepted it as one of the things that happen on B5.

Ambassadors try and kill each other and become good friends, Minbari go into cocoons and come out half human, dead people walk through the docking bay doors, these things just happened, and no one could, or wanted for that matter, explain them. You either accepted them, or you went crazy and then you accepted them.

"You know . . ." Talia looked up from her hands at Marcus' voice. "Instead of sitting here waiting for Susan to come back, we could always go look for her."

Talia blinked as Marcus got up and moved to stand before her.

They had been sitting here for what seemed like hours waiting for Susan to come back. She had taken them both to her quarters where she had promptly poured herself a tall glass of Vodka. She had offered them some, both had declined, wanting to be clear headed for the conversation they both knew was coming.

After a few moments of silence Susan had finished her glass of Vodka and had looked up, tears in her eyes.

"I can't do this!" She had cried as she ran out of the room dropping the glass to the floor. Not even noticing it breaking into little pieces.

"Where would we look?" She said reasonably, she was beginning to like this man.. "I doubt she's going to make it easy on us and go to Earhart's." But she also stood up. Marcus smiled and pointed to the chair where Susan had thrown her jacket when they had walked in.

"She still has her link on." Talia nodded, she was definitely beginning to like this man. She thought that maybe if they had met under different circumstances they could have been friends. He was nice, and his love for Susan was obvious.

She took a good hard look at her emotions. She didn't like Marcus because he was competition.

Susan is not a prize. She chastised herself. She is a person, and a very troubled one at that. She needs all the love she can get right now.

She resolved to put away her feelings of rivalry.

"OK . . ." They were about to leave when she stopped. "Wait." She said to Marcus holding up one finger. She walked to the bathroom. Marcus wondered what she was up too. When she returned she held up two small capsules.

"Oxy-pills." She explained. This time Marcus nodded as they stepped out of Susan's quarters in search for the very troubled woman they both loved dearly.

They found her in a dingy out of the way bar, attempting to drink herself under the table, which for Susan was no small feat.

Talia and Marcus looked at each other. They were both thinking the same thing. Amazingly enough it wasn't This is all your fault but We've go to do something.

They walked up behind Susan and sat on the barstools on either side of her. Marcus giving an intimidating glare to the man sitting on Susan's left before he could occupy the seat.

It took a while before Susan noticed them, but they waited patiently. When she finally did, the look of intense sorrow and confusion on her face worsened.

"It hurt so much to lose you." She said speaking to both of them, about both of them. "And to have you back now . . ." She took a deep breath and raised the glass of clear liquid that she was holding to her lips. Marcus raised his hand and put on top of the glass, gently pushing downwards so that Susan had no choice but to lower the glass back to the bar. Talia then took the glass and moved it out of Susan's reach. She had been looking straight ahead as she spoke. But now she turned her head one way and then another. Drinking in the sight of both Talia and Marcus. "And to have to you back now . . ."She repeated. "It's almost worse."

Talia ran her hand through Susan's hair, tucking loose strands behind the woman's ear, and while Marcus envied the fact that Talia could engage in such an intimate gesture he could not feel anything but kindness towards the woman who loved Susan so much.

"Why Susan?" Marcus asked softly, gently. "We both love you, you know that right?" Susan nodded miserably, "Neither one of us will leave you." He said, looking at Talia for a moment, feeling relieved when she nodded and smiled slightly. "No matter what." He said informing Susan that they would let her choose in her own time, even if she chose neither one of them. While Marcus talked to Susan softly, assuring her that they were there to stay, Talia motioned for the bartender and when he arrived ordered some water and paid Susan's tab. When the water arrived she put the glass in Susan's left hand and the Oxy-pills in her right. Uncharacteristically obedient Susan swallowed the pills and drank the water.

With his head Marcus motioned toward the door, suggesting they take Susan back to her quarters. Talia nodded.

"Come on Susan," She said to Susan when she had finished her water. "Lets get you home."

Susan nodded and got up, or rather tried to get up and almost fell if it hadn't been for Talia and Marcus each grabbing a hand. Marcus was not really surprised at the hidden strength in the blonde's lithe body, as they supported Susan and made the trek back home.

After undressing Susan and putting the drowsy commander to bed, Talia returned to the living room where Marcus was helping himself to some caff

"Do you think it's a good idea to drink caff this time of night?" She asked slightly amused when he jumped at her voice. "She's asleep." She said not letting him answer. He nodded and sat down on the couch, Talia joined him. A tense silence followed as Marcus finished his drink.

"I slept with her." Talia said breaking the silence. She wasn't trying to brag or anything, just informing him.

Marcus understood that by her tone. "I know."

Talia looked at him in surprise.

He smiled. "I may not be a telepath but I do have eyes you know." Talia blushed and looked down at her gloved hands. She might be free but giving up life long habits was not an easy thing.

Marcus also looked down at her gloved hands. "Why don't you take them off?" He asked politely. When Talia looked back up at him confused. "I don't mind and I'm sure Susan wouldn't either." Talia looked down at her hands for a long time before taking a deep breath and removing them.

Marcus noted that she had beautiful hands. Long pale fingers and smooth pink nails.

He was distracted from his thoughts when Talia suddenly stood up, and turned towards the bedroom, her gaze unfocused.

"She's having a nightmare." She said distantly and moved towards the bedroom, Marcus followed quickly.

She was lying so still in the bed that, except for the expression on her face, she looked peaceful. But her face . . .

Her eyes were half opened in her sleep, as though she couldn't bear the images in her mind. She was biting her bottom lip so hard she drew blood, and she seemed to be holding back a scream. Succeeding for the most part. Tears mixed with cold sweat at her temples.

She was breathing hard but her muscles were completely relaxed. It was an eerie sight.

Talia got there first, crawled into the bed and wrapped her arms around Susan holding her tight. Susan woke and feeling the loving arms around her started sobbing. Marcus sat on the bed and held one of Susan's clenched hands as Talia rocked her.

Slowly Susan calmed and the fist in Marcus' hands unclenched. He started to move away when she grabbed his hand.

"No." Her face was still buried in Talia shoulder, but she turned her head slightly so that Marcus could see her tear stained face. "Stay." She pulled him close, so close until he too was holding her in his arms.

Sensing her wishes instinctively, Talia moved her arms so that now four arms supported Susan.

She felt so loved in their arms. As long as she stayed right here nothing bad could happen to her. The world could wait, her dreams could wait, she had made her choice.

She had everything. The only question was . . . would she get to keep it this time?

Fic: 24 Hours {B5}

2006-01-15T13:38:38Z

Title: 24 Hours.
Summary: A lot can change in 24 hours. Especially on Babylon 5.
Disclaimer: They ain't mine. They belong to JMS and TNT (I think).
Sex disclaimer: Yes, nothing graphic, but implied.

Midnight- The Kiss.

It was midnight station time. The time when you could just see tomorrow in front of you and, for those who dared look back, yesterday fading behind you.
The corridor was empty, not really surprising since it was the middle of the shift and this was the corridor to the officers quarters.
"Commander!"
Susan Ivanova, second in command of Babylon 5, turned.
"Ms. Winters." Her voice was cool, calm edged with fatigue. "Can I help you?" It was a loaded question but a safe one. A question that could be taken in so many ways, you could say one thing and pretend you meant another.
The telepath's body language was nervous and then suddenly it wasn't. As if someone had pushed a button the blonde walked right up to Susan.
And then she was being kissed. And it was soft and it was intense and it was inviting and it was welcoming and it . . . was.
That's when the annoying little voice decided to speak up.
Umm Ivanova, there's a telepath on your lips.
Shut up
OK, but don't say I didn't warn you.
And it was over, years after it started, or seconds. No it was seconds she was sure of it. She could still see tomorrow waiting for its turn, she could still feel yesterday pushing up behind her.
"I want you." So softly it was spoken, so delicately were the words dropped to her ear. Spoken as if she didn't know, as if the blonde hadn't declared her intentions with that kiss.
And then she was gone, as if she never was. Like a modern day Cinderella the clock struck twelve and she vanished, leaving only burning lips to prove that she really had been there.
So what was that?
A declaration of intentions. The voice had returned. So what are you going to do about it?
It's up to me huh?
Yup, up to you.

Six am- The morning after.

It was six am station time. Night and all its promises . . . gone, dissolved as the alarm sounded, forcing the sleeping occupant into wakefulness, too early, always too early. The day stretched forth in infinite possibilities, infinite opportunities, infinite aggravations.
Susan Ivanova, second in command of Babylon 5, groaned in objection.
Overruled. Wake up.
Crawling out of bed she headed straight to the bathroom to get rid of the cotton in her mouth. The cotton in her head would be taken care of later with some really strong coffee or at least some caf.
Back into the bedroom to get dressed and make herself presentable. Running her itinerary over in her head.

07:00 Meeting with Captain Sheridan
09:45 Meeting Garibaldi and his stomach
11:00 Check-up at med-lab
12:00 Lunch with Talia.

What?! Susan did a mental double take. Where did that come from?
That would be me.
Well I'm not going.
Yes you are.
Oh? And how do you know that pray tell?
Cause of the kiss.
Susan dropped her brush, purely by accident of course.
That wasn't a dream?
Nope. So what are you going to do about it?
Pretend it never happened?
Think you can?
No.
Susan finished braiding her hair and let her arms fall to her sides.
Ever felt that way before? Ever? Have you ever felt anything even remotely smiliar?
Susan sighed.
No
So what are you going to do about it?
I have no idea.
Lunch?
Lunch.

Noon- Lunch.

It was noon station time. Half a day gone, half a day to go. Not yesterday and not tomorrow could be seen under the harsh glare of the noon twelve. If this had been an old western the sun would have been blazing down, but since this was a space station the only thing blazing was the noise level in the Zocalo.
Susan Ivanova, second in command of Babylon 5, strode down the marketplace to where she knew Talia Winters would be eating lunch. She knew because she used to eat there too, before she came aboard and made her blood run cold and burn hot at the same time.
There she was, sitting alone eating her salad and reading her newspaper, just being beautiful. Susan walked right up and sat down in front of her.
Talia looked surprised but not nervous.
Why isn't she nervous?
Like you? The voice was annoying but honest; lets face it, it was annoying because it was honest.
Fine yes why isn't she nervous like I am?
Her part in this play is over now. The question is why are you nervous? You know how she feels.
Yes but I don't know how it will end.
"Can we talk in private?" Her voice came out a lot steadier than she had expected.
"No." Talia put down her fork and closed her newspaper.
No? This she hadn't expected.
Don't look at me. I didn't see this coming either.
"No?" Once again she was surprised at how steady her voice was.
"No. Whatever happens, happens here. I will not be hidden."
She's got a point.
Shut up. What do I do?
Kiss the girl already!
So she did, and for the first time since high school she saw stars, and for the first time ever they all went super nova in her head. When they pulled apart they were both breathing hard and Talia was smiling a smiled so full of joy and warmth it could have melted an iceberg.
Now what?
Gee do I gave to tell you everything!?
No, you're right. I know what to do.
"Your place or mine?"
"Yours."
"Nine?"
"Eight."
"Seven." And then in unison.
"Six!"
Another kiss. Soft, barely brushing the two lips together, a promise of a promise.
"See you then."

Six PM- The date.

It was six pm station time. The day was effectively over, and now of was the night's, or at least the evening's, turn. The day slumped off into the distance, it's shoulders stooped with all of the things that hadn't happened today and night danced in with its secrets and laughter and pain hugging it like a sequin dress under bright lights.
Susan Ivanova, second in command of Babylon 5 opened the door for her guest. She was nervous as hell, but refrained from taking her usual remedy for this state, a good shot of vodka. She wanted this night to be sharp in her memory . . . no matter what happened.
"Hi, come in." It was a lame opening, she knew, she also knew that it didn't matter.
She's as nervous as I am. Susan came to the realization quickly; it was fairly obvious.
Does that make you feel better?
Yes. It did actually, to know that she wasn't alone in her anxiety.
Talia held out a bottle to Susan who smiled when she saw what it was. Grape Juice.
What do you think that means?
That she wants the same thing you do.
And what would that be?
To remember this night forever, no matter what happens.
So what do I do?
Pour the drinks honey, just pour the drinks.
So she did.

Midnight- The End.

It was midnight station time. The time when you could just see tomorrow in front of you and, for those who dared look back, yesterday fading behind you.
The living room was empty. On the coffee table stood a half empty bottle of grape juice, the media wall played the closing credits of an old black and white romance, a guaranteed tear jerker, or would have been if there was someone there watching.
In front of the couch two pairs of shoes, one 2 inch black heels, one military issue, had been strewn. They did not look as if they had been thrown nor had they been carefully placed. They looked as if they had been kicked off absently while the wearers had been talking or maybe engrossed in a movie.
The shoes knew, but they weren't talking.
The living room was empty, the bedroom however was full. Full of life, full of love, full of whisper and quiet giggles.
Susan Ivanova, lover of Talia Winters in a world that held only them played absently with a strand of blond hair, listening to a smoked honey voice, feeling it run down her spine.
She held the strand to her nose and inhaled the lovely almost delicate scent of the blonde's shampoo mingled with the woman's smell on her fingers and smiled.
The voice stopped suddenly, making Susan look up quickly.
Talia had a smile on her face that reflected Susan's. A smile full of joy at the love they shared, a smile of unbelievable amazement at their luck, a smile of just waiting to be kissed.
So she did.
Umm Susan, there's a Talia on your lips.
Yeah so? Got a problem with that?
Nope. Not a one . . . not a one.

gemmeus @ 2006-01-15T15:30:00

2006-01-15T13:36:03Z

Title: Death
Summary: An old woman, Susan dies.
Disclaimer: The charactors ain't mine. They belong to JMS and TNT (I think).
Sex disclaimer: Nothing graphic, but if two woman in love offends you . . . What the hell are you doing here?

Well she was dying, again. It was bound to happen; in the past she had expected it more than once. Had even, in her darker moments, imagined how it would come about. Never in her youth had she thought it would be from this, old age; war, accident, even suicide . . . but old age? Her? It seemed impossible.

She wondered who would mourn for her. No, mourn wasn't the right word. She was Ranger One, every Ranger everywhere would mourn for her. No, what she wanted to know was who would miss her. Who would feel a loss when she was gone? Thanks to the miracle of modern Minbari medicine she had outlived all her friends from her youth. Franklin, Garibaldi, even Zack had all died years before.

Delenn. She decided. Delenn would miss her. Delenn, whom she had taught the secrets of human hair care so long ago. Delenn, who now brushed her hair every morning, allowing her a few moments without the pain of her arthritis. Delenn would miss her.

It was a comforting thought, knowing that someone would miss you when you were gone. It gave her heart some semblance of peace in her last moments.

She would be missed. It was a good thought to die with.

So was it worth it? A familiar voice, not a voice, something deeper than a voice, something that penetrated a sense deeper than hearing, echoed around/within her. In the end was it worth all the pain?

Talia? The joy that came from recognizing the not-voice was all encompassing. Talia, is that you?

All the emotions that came from embracing someone you love came bubbling up within her. It was a strange sensation, knowing you were being held, feeling the emotions that the comfort allowed you, but not feeling the weight of the arms or smelling the person you knew was holding you.

Yes, yes Susan it's me. The joy was so powerful it made her want to cry. And then she felt it, the release of crying but not the touch of tears running down her face.

I missed you so much! The emotions of someone stroking her hair, but not of the fingers on her scalp or even the pressure on her head.

I know, Talia soothed, I know. Susan swam in the turbulent sea of her emotions, allowing herself to finally be soothed by a presence as true and comforting as the tide. Finally emotionally exhausted and basking in the afterglow of the none-cry Susan wrapped her emotions around the presence of Talia and sent her a love-kiss.

What happened? She asked. Where am I? She meant.

The illusions of the limitations that we place on ourselves and call life have dispersed. It wasn't Talia who said this, or rather it was Talia but so much more.

I died, Susan simplified.

Yes. It was just Talia this time, her none-voice laced with amusement.

Mama? Papa? Ganya? She said. John? Michael? Stephen? Her emotions continued. She didn't want to leave Talia but she needed to know.

The part of you that wants to be with me is with me. Again, not-just-Talia said. It made sense; it explained why she felt such a sense of peace.

Marcus? She had to ask.

The part of you that wants to be with him is with him. The memory of the bitter taste of regret fluttered through her being.

He's dead? All those years in cryo . . .

Eventually. Susan took in that fact and accepted that she was where she was supposed to be and the sense of peace returned ten fold.

What now then? She asked, both surrounded by and wrapped around Talia. She felt Talia laugh.

Always move forward huh Susan? A love-kiss, a love-hug. When we're ready we embrace the illusion of limitations.

We live again? Susan tried to feel time, a minute had passed, a hundred years, time had moved backwards.

Yes. The simple answer was enough. Then a thought occurred to her.

Will we be together? Another thought occurred to her. We've always been together. She wasn't surprised when she realized her none-voice wasn't her own. It was just like Talia's had been. It was her but not just her. So when do we go back?

Whenever. A love-kiss, a love-hug, a love-other. So was it worth it? She asked again. In the end was it worth all the pain?

Susan smiled.

Always.

Somewhere, Sometime, Everywhere, Everytime, two souls connected once again in a place they had connected a million times before and would connect a million times again, and found the happiness that they lost.

Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream,
And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by?
The transient pleasures as a vision seem,
And yet we think the greatest pain's to die.

How strange it is that man on earth should roam
And lead a life of woe, but not forsake
His rugged path; nor dare he view alone
His future doom which is to awake.

John Keats "On Death"

Fic: Stray {ER}

2006-01-15T13:09:15Z

Title: Stray.
Rating: PG
Pairings: Kim/Kerry.
Category: Errr Vignette
Notes: Thanks for beta'ing . . you know who you are. :D
Summary: Kerry thoughts.
Warnings: Anyone who knows me will tell you I lean toward the darker side of the spectrum.
Disclaimer: Not mine . . . wish it was. :p

I’m yours at night. Alone, together I can give you all I am. I can love you and be loved by you. I can lock the door and darken the windows and make sure that the world can’t get in, can’t interfere with the fire between us.

During the moon’s day I leave my mask behind, throw it to the wind, feed it to the stray dogs that hang around your house. They too know of your kindness.

And I, stray dog that I am, know your kindness and so much more. You allowed me in your house, in your heart, on your furniture. You fed me with your hands on my body, and washed me with your unrelenting eyes. Made this unwanted mutt feel pure and loved and even, dare I say it, desired. I would sleep at your feet if that was what you wanted, would eat on the floor by your legs to prove my gratitude. But you treat me as an equal, and make me feel as though maybe, just maybe, I am.

But only when we’re alone. At night, but not alone together, it’s even worse. My mask gone I have nothing to hide behind and they see, your friends, they see me as the lost stray and they wonder, just as I do, why you bother. What makes me worthy of your attentions? At night, with your friends, I am worthless.

But only at night. During the day the light hides more than it reveals. Do you know that? Do you know how I hide behind reflected light particles? Or do you just wonder at the change from a stray pup to a competent doctor who earns respect and even fear, but never acceptance? Do you even notice?

During the day I lock myself in an iron maiden of my own making,. Do you like it Kim? It took me years to develop, to seal every hole, to discover and strengthen every weakness, to make it impenetrable. And I had help see? This spike, my mother gave me that when she abandoned me, threw me out in the street like an unwanted dog. No wonder they call me a bitch. This one, that’s my ex-husband. I thought he would take me in, thought I had found a home. All these nails and tacks? These are from all those who laughed, who pointed, who ignored me, from those who just walked away. Every sharp point in this torture chamber of my memories has a reason, even if I have forgotten it.

What do you think of my suit Kim? Do you hate it as much as I do? Do you see me trying to reach out to you from behind this smooth shiny metal? Do you fear it as well? Do you see how it will be the cause of our destruction?

I’d destroy it if I could Kim. I would melt it down or sell it for scrap if I could. I would give up my protection for you Kim, would walk around naked and vulnerable for you. If I could, if I knew how.

During the day I want your help but can’t ask. During the night I can ask but I don’t know how.

Can you teach this stray dog to beg Kim? Before its too late?

Fic: Sated, Satisfied {B5}

2006-01-15T13:07:52Z

[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<take him,>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]

Title: Sated, Satisfied.

Disclaimer: They ain't mine. They belong to JMS and TNT (I think).

Summary: Vampires. On B5.

Sex disclaimer: Yes, nothing graphic, but implied.

Don't Like Don't Read Disclaimer: This story deals about two women who love each other. Face it, it happens. Anyway I'm giving you a fair warning so if you don't like it don't read it.

Clone Disclaimer: This story is mine all mine *manic laugh*. So if you want to reproduce it in any way . . . Don’t.

<><><><><>
<lj-cut text="Sated, Satisfied.">

She finally realized something was wrong about a week after Talia had been . . . taken. She might have realized sooner but she attributed most of the symptoms to grief.

The sleepless nights, a craving for something that neither her precious coffee nor her beloved Vodka could sooth, the nervous energy that seemed to follow her everywhere, the ache that seemed to radiate from her bones, the nausea that made her stomach turn at the very thought of food . . . She lost weight because she couldn’t eat. The one time she forced herself to eat something she spent the night with her head in the toilet. The sensitivity to light she thought was just a side effect of the insomnia and overindulgence in her vices.

When the problems persisted after a week, she knew it was serious. She didn’t go to Stephen because as much as he was a friend he was also a doctor and she didn’t want to be told she needed to see a shrink. So she tried to ignore the fact that she spent nights pacing in her quarters, or that in the middle of the day her blood would start racing through her veins for no good reason. She became tired, irritable and a bit waif-like. Her friends worried about her but had expected such an extreme reaction and so simply tried to give her space to work it out herself, just as she had always done.

One night, unable to stand the confines of her rooms, Susan stormed out and started seeking, searching, hunting. For what, she didn’t know, but her blood sang to her the ancient song of the hunt and she obeyed. She saw without being seen, followed without being noticed and then, though her blood begged her not to, returned to her bed unsated. Unsated but satisfied, the need still ran through her veins, but the nervous energy that had been building within her evaporated.

It was during one of these nightly hunting parties that she found him. In a dark and quiet, rundown, dirty, smelly bar in the very pit of the station. Unable to separate the hunter from her day self she recognized the male as the Ranger Marcus Cole. Her blood screamed at her.

<<Take him,>> It cried, <<He is perfect!>>

<Perfect for what?>

Her blood wouldn’t say.

The hunter was confused. She did not understand what she wanted and therefore could not take it. She knew she wanted to touch him . . . taste him . . . make him hers . . . but didn’t know how, or why. Confused, uncertain but mostly frustrated the hunter returned to her nest, curled up in a corner . . . and cried her weary heart out.

After that every time she had to interact with the Ranger she had to force down the instinct to jump on him and . . . and . . . she didn’t know. It made her relationship with Marcus very awkward and uncomfortable. The man’s obvious attraction to her didn’t help. Not that she didn’t find it flattering . . . but it made it harder to control herself.

Thanks to the midnight hunts she could now concentrate as well as she had before. She still couldn’t eat, but it seemed as though she simply didn’t need to. She had an endless supply of energy even though she didn’t sleep and though she looked thin and pale it was no worse than any of the other overworked, under-rested, senior staff.

Then the cramps began. Little ones and so she put it down to her monthly cycle, except that they only came at night and they were accompanied by a toothache, both pains throbbing in synchrony. She went to the dentist, but he could find nothing wrong, and sent her on her way. Then the pains started to grow worse, making it impossible for her to hunt, and soon after that she could only lie in bed doubled over moaning at the pain in her stomach and the ache in her mouth.

The craving, which she had been able to push to the back of her mind, came back with a vengeance. She would have done anything to fulfill her need now, anything. She would have sold her soul to the Shadows if they gave her what she needed. She would have bathed with Garibaldi if he could have just pointed her in the right direction. She would have shaved off her hair and married Londo if he had promised to sate her desires.

But in the morning when the pain was gone and the craving just nibbling in her consciousness, she would get up, go to work, and pretend that the pain didn’t exist.

By the time two weeks had passed she was in so much pain she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. Tears streamed down her face unchecked, unheeded, ignored. The craving was so bad she forgot who she was, forgot where she was, she even forgot what she was doing. All she knew was pain and need and . . .

And then someone was with her, placing something against her lips. She whimpered as the ache in her gums turned into a burning pain ripping through her mouth. The thing was taken away.

“My poor baby,” a disembodied voice whispered in her ear. “My poor Childe.” It was a familiar voice, one that sent comfort through the brunette’s mind. “Your teeth haven’t even come in, no wonder you’re in so much pain.” She wanted the voice to go on talking forever. It soothed all her pains, it flowed over her like honey and drifted over all her senses like smoke. “I came as soon as I could.” She felt fingers stroking her hair, and the pain receded enough for her to be able to see once again.

Golden strands of silk framing a beautiful face with eyes like the sky before a storm. Grey hiding blue. Rain, hiding sky, hiding stars. The fingers in her hair, she knew, were slim and long and naked. The scent of her was clean, but not like cut grass or fresh air on a warm day. It was . . . if you could hold the universe in your hand and inhale it that would be almost what this angel would smell like.

“Sire.” The word slipped from the Childe naturally. It fit her feelings. “Sire, you’ve returned.” Her gratitude was obvious, thickly coating every word that left her and those that didn’t. She wanted to sit up, but the pain had left weakness in its wake, and as it was she could barely speak. She looked up at her Sire, pleading.

Her Sire smiled understandingly. Raising her own wrist to her mouth the blonde bit down hard, breaking the skin. She allowed herself a moment to relish the taste and promise herself to feed later, before lowering her bleeding wrist to her Childe’s lip, gasping as the brunette latched on to the source of her food, and suckled like a babe at its mother’s breast.

Sire watched as Childe closed her eyes in ecstasy, not allowing one precious drop to escape her mouth. The blonde consciously slowed her pulse as to not overwhelm her new Childe, but to her surprise, though considering the brunette’s personality she should have expected it, her Childe sucked harder, demanding more.

The blonde reluctantly detached the Childe from her wrist, knowing it was not quite enough, but needing her strength for her hunt. She had only been able to get enough provisions for her love.

Leaning down, she reached into the bag she had abandoned next to Susan’s bed, and pulled out a warm bag of thick red liquid.

The brunette had whimpered when her food had been taken away, but when she saw what her Sire had in her hand she nearly cried with joy. Food, blessed wonderful food. Finally her need would be sated. She was so happy she almost didn’t notice the sharp pain in her gums that signaled her final transformation. Almost grabbing the bag from her Sire’s hand, she sat up, brought the bag to her lips, and using her new incisors, punctured the container and fed to her hearts content.

The blonde laughed at the woman’s enthusiasm, and leaned back to watch as a pale, thin, weak thing became a glowing, robust, energetic woman within minutes.

When the bag was empty the brunette lay back down on the bed and closed her eyes. For first time in weeks she felt she could sleep.

Just before she drifted off she heard a whisper in her ear. “I must hunt, my love. I shall return soon.”

+++++

It was the Sire who left, but it was Talia that returned. Susan had been sleeping, relaxed for the first time in weeks. A gentle voice in her mind, sweet perfume in her nose, soft skin under her fingertips, extraordinary beauty in front of her eyes, these are the things that Susan woke to.

“Susan.” She had to be dreaming; that voice had been taken away from her, forever. “Susan, please wake up. We need to talk.”

Susan reached up, stroking the apparition’s cheek. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to waste this dream talking.”

Her dream closed her eyes, sighed and raised her hand to cover her beloved’s. “It’s not a dream Susan. Please, we need to talk. We have to talk.”

Instead Susan slipped her hand behind Talia’s neck and pulled the blonde down for a kiss. The taste of copper filled her mouth and broke her dream- state and the kiss.

“It was real?” she asked breathless with fear. Talia nodded, her eyes filled with sadness. “All of it?” Again Talia nodded. Susan wasn’t afraid of Talia. She could never be afraid of Talia. She was afraid of the situation, of what she had become. “What happened? What are you? What did you do to me?”

Talia ran her fingers through Susan’s hair soothingly. “You don’t remember?” she asked. “You should remember now.”

She did remember; she didn’t want to, but she did. She remembered the soft sheets and even softer whispers. Declarations of undying love in velvet darkness, two minds seeking, searching, finding, grasping, joining. A question asked and answered, and a sharp pain mingling with exquisite pleasure.

The plea forever, the promise for all time.

“I remember,” she said softly.

“Are you angry?” the blonde asked gently.

“Not for that,” Susan replied.

“But?”

“You left, you promised forever and you left the next day.”

Hearing the desperation in her lover’s voice, Talia moved them so that Susan was sitting in her lap. “I know,” she admitted sadly. “I’m so sorry, but it couldn’t be helped.”

“What now?”

“Their AP process failed, but they would have killed me if they knew, so I set a trigger in my own mind, a set behavior that would be triggered by the password. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

The fabric under her cheek was irritating, but she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving this sanctuary of arms. “And in your quarters?” /Those horrible things you said . . ./

Talia held Susan even closer, pressing her lips against the top of the brunette’s head. “They were monitoring me. I’m so sorry.” /I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I made you believe I didn’t love you. I’m sorry for your pain. I’m sorry . . . I’m just so sorry./

“Are you here to stay?” Her voice was small, almost afraid to hope.

“Forever.”

++++++++

Later, after they had made love, after they had reaffirmed their bond, Talia spooned behind Susan and whispered her story into the other’s mind.

/I’m far older than you my love, but not nearly as old as some. I am 279 years old. I was born in 1980. I was 28 when it happened. I was earning some extra money working as a night librarian. One day a woman came in, one thing led to another and eventually we ended up in my apartment. She never asked me, she just turned me and disappeared. It took me a week to figure out what was going on. I spent those seven days in bed, trying to block out the voices in my head.

Years, centuries later I joined the Corps in order to learn to control my powers instead of letting them control me. I made them believe I was a child and I “grew up” there. They gave me everything my Sire didn’t. And that was the cause of my misplaced loyalties. Even after I knew what they had tried to do to me, I couldn’t forget all they had done for me.

But I won’t do that to you Susan, I promise. I’m here now Susan. I’m here to stay./

/Forever?/

/For all time, my love. For all time./

fic: Fine Print {West Wing}

2006-01-15T13:04:56Z

Title: Fine Print.
Spoilers: Errrrr none really.
Pairing: CJ/Toby Or not.

Summary: She never told anyone, especially not Toby, especially not while she was two drinks past drunk and three hours past exhausted.

Disclaimer: They're not mine, but if someone really loved me they'd get them for me for my birthday.

Author's Notes: I said I had writers block. She said drop and give me 500, I immediately kneeled and got out my wallet. Why she would want this fic instead of having me at her feet giving her money is beyond me.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Sometimes she felt like she was one of those people who carried the king's throne as he sat and waved to the people. She couldn't explain why, at least not without sounding like a total idiot, so she never told anyone, especially not Toby, especially not while she was two drinks past drunk and three hours past exhausted.

"We're holding him up Toby, that's all we're doing. We're holding him up and making sure he doesn't get his shoes dirty." She was slouching, if only her mother could see her now, she was slouching and she was looking at the world through a shot glass. She wondered if maybe Toby was a bad influence on her, then figured they'd known each other too long for it to really matter.

"So?" She looked up from the glass and blinked, tracing back her train of thought until she figured out what he was talking about.

"So? Doesn't that bug you?" He was slouching too, but he was drinking beer, and wasn't nearly half as wasted as she was. She, however, was still the cute one, so she figured she could still have another couple of drinks.

"Not really." He still wasn't looking at her, which angered her even though she knew he didn't have to look her in the eye to take her seriously. "It's what we signed up for." He looked up, looked straight into her eyes, and took a drink. And suddenly she wasn't angry, just tired, and drunk, and staring into the eyes of one of the only men that could make her feel stupid without even trying.

"Is it Toby?" Late nights and early mornings. Heartburn and heartbreak. Fighting and losing and fighting again. Sour victories and words that left a bitter aftertaste. Carrying a king on their shoulders because he had promised them when they put him down their country would be a better place to live in, but meanwhile they had to keep the mud away from him, to make sure that he stayed clean." Is this really what we signed up for?"

He looked at her a long time then, long enough to wonder whether he even remembered what they were talking about, long enough so that she had to look down again, because his eyes could burn, and they could freeze, and she was too drunk and too tired to be able to deal with the climate change.

"Let's go." And she looked up again he had already paid the bill and was standing next to her holding out his hand.

In the morning, sometime between swallowing an aspirin dry and forcing her red eyes open to accept the eye drops, she'll decide that it never happened. That she had never told anyone that sometimes she felt like her back was breaking and that it didn't really matter, especially not Toby, especially not while she was two drinks past drunk and three hours past exhausted.

That night the cool air sobered her somewhat and Toby hailed a cab for her but didn't open the door when it arrived. That night as she climbed into the cab wishing that she hadn't worn high heels she played with the thought of inviting him home, but decided against it, because he was Toby, and he was the one man in the world that could make her feel stupid without even trying. Sometimes she felt like she was one of those people who carried the king's throne as he sat and waved to the people, and apparently that’s what she had signed up for. She knew she should have read the fine print.