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meeshyickle's LJ.
--
It was pure serendipity that saved them.
That, and Carter, of course.
--
Sam walked briskly through the corridors, wondering why the General had called her up here.
The last she knew, all her team-mates were on base and in perfect health. They'd had lunch together, chatted over sandwiches, fruit and cake and teased the Colonel on his grey streaks while he growled at them. There'd been no klaxons, no alarms, nothing to indicate that something had gone wrong off base or on. It had been a silent day at the SGC – by anyone's standards, an anomaly.
As she approached the open door of the infirmary, she cast her mind back, trying to determine if the general had sounded different than usual. Maybe a little worried, but other than that...
Two steps into the infirmary, and she paused. Colonel O'Neill sat on the infirmary bed closest to the door, his arm bandaged, his expression grim, swinging his legs.
She blinked. "Sir? What happened to your arm?"
His head whipped around at the sound of her voice. Dark eyes widened, and he went dead white, staring at her as if he'd never seen her before. It was an unnerving response and one she didn't expect from him.
Beyond him, standing beside the head of the bed, General Hammond's expression was blank and unhelpful. Sam tried to read him for cues on what had happened, but the general offered no hints. She looked back at the Colonel, who was still staring at her.
"Sir?" She ventured, "Is everything okay?"
"Sam?"
--
She sees them whole as she sees herself whole.
No fragmentation of the spirit, no splitting of the soul: one being, one person...one team.
The way it should be.
The way it is not.
--
They'd wondered why the Gennii had built this bunker and then deserted it, not even stopping to pick up their boxes. Now they knew.
--
All-night vigils in the infirmary were hardly a new concept for SG-1.
Except that this time the vigil was not for one of their own.
Jack glanced up as Janet poked her head in, and rose from his chair. He glanced at his team-mates, Carter snoozing – boots and all – on a nearby bed, Teal'c sitting in kel no reem on the floor.
"How's Daniel doing?"
Glancing back at the young man in the other chair, his head on his chest, Jack shrugged. "I think the exhaustion finally took him."
"But the instant we try to move him he'll wake," the Doc murmured. She tilted her head to see around him, "Sam took the spare bed?"
"She offered it to Daniel, but he wanted the chair. Teal'c does just as well on the floor as anywhere…" Jack shrugged. SG-1 might not be keeping vigil for one of their own, but they were watching over one of their own as he kept vigil. Eviction had been futile, and in the end, the nurses merely glared at the four extra bodies littering the infirmary.
"How's he going so far?"
"He seems happy," Jack murmured, glancing back at his team-mate and the woman sleeping in the bed beside him. "It's what he joined the program for."
"And now that he's found her?" Janet asked softly. "What now?"
The question had been nagging at Jack for the last twelve hours. He answered the Doc in the same way he'd answered Carter all those hours ago. "That'll depend on Daniel."
--
He woke in a pearl of sweat, damp sheets clinging to damp skin, and lay in the darkness, panting.
Outside the window of his cabin, the night was full of the noises of the wild. A cricket chirruped in the tree outside, and small creatures rustled around in the leaf litter below. The screech of an owl resounded from the next valley over, a distant, triumphant sound.
Everything was as it should be.
Almost everything.
--
"Did you intend to leave him behind from the start?"
The accusation fell raw into the desert, like bloody flesh upon which the vultures of guilt feasted.
Somewhere in the distant sky above, endless and blue, the vultures circled, seeking the rotting flesh of dead animals. Here, there was just the two of them, alive and living and pent full of emotion: loss, grief, sorrow, guilt...
Anger.
She turned, brilliance and beauty, the flare of her hair as she whipped her face around to stare at him with a widow's eyes. "Did you?"
It hung between them, the carcass on the nail, crying out to be dealt with before it festered and putrefied.
"Do you think so little of me?"
Her sob was all the answer he needed.
"Diana..."
--
The wargames were supposed to promote unity in the mountain.
"Which really means we're going to engage in a day of 'my balls are bigger than your balls,'" said the Colonel, disgustedly.
"I don't suppose I could call off sick that day, sir?"
"Forget it, Major. I'm stuck going, you're stuck going."
Which was a pain in the ass, but the big brass ordered and the little brass marched.
--
The two slaves walked submissively behind the Jaffa, their heads bowed, their lashes lowered.
Considering their plans, it was just as well that the passing Goa'uld and Jaffa could not see their eyes. The sparkle of malice aforethought would have given away their intent.
"You're sure this will work?" The first slave demanded of the Jaffa as they stepped into a ring room and the doors slid shut behind them.
"I am." The burly Jaffa didn't even turn his head as he walked into the circle marked out on the floor and turned, waiting for the two to take their places in the transporter rings with him.
The second slave looked at the first, then silently went to stand beside the Jaffa.
"I don't like this," the slave said, his expression uncertain. "It's too...dangerous."
"And having seen what you've seen, you think that leaving Lir with the knowledge he has will be any less dangerous?" The words came from the second slave and carried authority.
"We'll be hunted."
The Jaffa gave the man a look of disgust. "Those of my kind who have chosen to renounce the Goa'uld as gods have been hunted since Teal'c son of Ronac rebelled against Apophis. Our own people will not accept the truth - that we have been enslaved by creatures who rely on us for their strength."
"Okay, okay," the man held up his hands in protest. "There's no need to be dramatic about it," he took his place beside the other slave. "I just have reservations."
"You can have all the reservations you want," his companion said, turning towards him. "But we can't afford to leave this knowledge in the hands of Lir."
He shivered a little under the intensity of that gaze. He'd seen such looks before from other slaves - usually the ones who had seen or done too much - or who'd had too much done to them. They were the most dangerous, because they'd passed through desperation and come out the other side. He was in this, whether he liked it or not.
"You have thrown your lot in with us," the Jaffa said as he activated the rings. "Do not fail all our peoples now."
The rings flashed up in blinding brilliance, and when it faded, the room was empty.
--
A cup of coffee was Dr. Elizabeth Weir's first notification that something strange was going on in Atlantis.
--
The evac from the Alpha site was rushed, as always.
Yet another planet lost to the Goa'uld. More good men and women dead.
It made Jack sick to think about it.
They'd had sufficient advance warning to know that the Goa'uld were coming, but not enough to know exactly what force had been mustered against them. So when four hat'ak and an alkesh loomed high in the sky, most of the Alpha personnel had already been sent to the Beta site.
Jack had made this jaunt through the Stargate just to be sure that his people – and he didn't just mean SG-1 – got off the planet before the Goa'uld came. There was nothing that moved the ass quite as effectively as the senior officer in your command glaring at a soldier as he packed equipment.
Jack had done his fair share of packing, but right now they were down to things that they could easily get elsewhere – things of no tactical use to the Goa'uld. MREs, benches and tables, paperclips and the like. The early warning hadn't been much, but it had been enough.
Spacecraft whined across the planet's atmosphere. "Daniel! Dial it out!"
As the last group of personnel grabbed the remaining boxes, Daniel dialled Cimmeria. According to protocol, the evacs from an invaded site always went through Cimmeria first, ensuring that the Goa'uld couldn't follow them to the new Alpha site.
Paranoid is as paranoid does, Jack thought, dryly. Only, it wasn't paranoia when they really were out to get you.
Teal'c and Carter were laying down cover fire, their weapons shuddering into the bleak sky. The personnel were ready to go as the event horizon 'whooshed.' And then there was fire and dust and blood and smoke.
Jack cried out orders, and watched as some carried boxes, and others angled rocket launchers. He longed to be among the soldiers hefting the unwieldy tubes, aiming them high into the sky. But he kept his P-90 tracking the gliders that spewed forth from the atmosphere, slipping in and out of the clouds overhead, and fired when they were in range.
The gliders were bad. They changed the odds, too manueverable to hit, but large enough to cause significant damage. They turned the tables, flipping them against the evacuees.
"Get through the gate!" He bellowed, "Drop everything and go now!"
He continued shooting at the gliders, pausing by the DHD, waiting as his people ran up the stairs and through the Stargate.
"Jack!"
"Daniel, go through!" He glanced beyond Daniel to the other side of the steps, where Carter and Teal'c stood their ground, still firing. "Retreat!" He bellowed, and hoped they heard. The last of the evacuees were up the stairs, and the gliders were still coming.
Teal'c fired one last shot and turned to leap through the Stargate. Daniel was through a moment later, his flak jacket gripped firmly in the hand of a retreating Lieutenant.
One last man ran, clinging onto the pack he'd grabbed, dodging the glider fire that peppered his footsteps. He stumbled, and Jack ran down to yank him up. Nobody gets left behind.
"General!" Carter held her position.
Stupid, stubborn woman. "Get through the damn gate, Colonel!" He had the man by the shoulder, booted feet stumbling for purchase.
Still the damn woman held her position. Her weapon chattered, and he heard something explode behind him. Then she was down the stairs and grabbing the other arm of the tardy evacuee.
Jack glimpsed her eyes, huge and shocked as she saw what was happening beyond him. Within one step, she'd matched his pace, an unconscious unity that attested to their years working together. They half-dragged the man up the stairs; his boots hardly touched the pavers. But behind him, Jack could feel the energy gathering. His hair prickled and his skin crawled.
They plunged into the undulating blue surface, cold sensation crawling over every inch of exposed skin. Jack felt the power of the blast ripple around him, beyond him, through him, transferring its energy into the event horizon of the wormhole and freeing the moorings that held it to the Earth Stargate.
Disembodied and unmade, Jack's senses screamed at him in fear.
Then the wormhole took them.
--
The instant Jack O'Neill emerged from the wormhole, he knew it was going to be one of those days.
It was probably the party of Jaffa that gave it away, staring in astonishment at the four travellers who'd emerged from the Stargate in the wooded area.
Jack was exceedingly proud of his team. Within a second, they'd taken stock of the situation and leaped for cover as staff-weapon blasts exploded around them. He hoped he'd get to tell them how proud he was of them later.
He really hoped there'd be a later.
--
She did not fear death.
The cord with which she was bound was thin. At her usual strength, she could easily have broken it.
It was the curse of an Amazon that she lost her strength when bound.
As they walked her into the cathedral, the high gothic spires thrusting up into the endless bleak grey of the city skyline, Diana looked up, into the hanging heads of those who had defied and died.
What means of mortuary skill kept the flesh unrotting, Diana could not imagine. Magic, perhaps, to renew their flesh daily, like Tartarus in his pit? And what better torment existed for those who had opposed and failed, but to witness those who followed in their footsteps, brought low by the Dark One?
They hung by their hair, staring down at those who entered his sanctuary with eyes that told of the horrors they'd endured before death had come at last, a release. And she shivered as she walked beneath them, feeling their eyes upon her, hearing their screams in her ears as she passed beneath their grisly remains and into the cathedral proper.
The young man walking before her glanced curiously over his shoulder at her. He was adolescent, and the younger of the two - the one walking at her back was his senior by several years and his superior by several dozen pounds of muscle.
They had not been the ones to take her down, of course. There was no man her match in physical strength but one - and that one had vanished many moons ago, with neither sign nor trace of his going.
Tonight, her assailant had been her match, not in physical strength, but in warrior skill. He had swiftly defeated her, using guile, tactics, and techniques which she had recognised but never learned. She was ashamed to acknowledge his skill outstripped hers as Master to a mere acolyte - and she was no mean warrior.
A bitter smile touched her lips. There would be no-one, at least, to witness his conquest. Of those who had gone up against him, she was the last; all others had been defeated.
--
If his brain got frequent flyer points, Daniel figures his would be a lifetime member by now. Twice over. Maybe even three or four times over. It would get the priority seating, the cushy service, the first-class beds and the effusive airline assistants handing it flutes of champagne as it stepped on the plane for another mind-bending journey.
--
She found him standing on the balcony of his mother's solar in the brisk night air.
"I don't suppose you'll go see Jonddynn about these dreams now?"
Kalin didn't need the inflections of her voice to tell him that she was annoyed at being woken by his discomfort the fourth time in as many nights. It was vibrating plainly enough in the bond they shared, prince and bheancoran.
"They're just dreams, Diani," he protested. "Nothing about which he needs to be bothered."
She moved into the periphery of his vision, the cloak she'd wrapped about her shifting slightly as she rested her hip against the balcony railing. "The fourth night in a row that these dreams have disturbed you, and you don't think he needs to be bothered about them?" Blue eyes regarded him, nearly eye to eye, for she was a tall woman.
"The fourth night in a row that these dreams have disturbed you?" He teased, a half-smile touching his lips as he looked at her. "Lucky for me you have no husband to protest when my nightmares rouse you."
"I doubt I would survive the two of you," she returned serenely, tossing her long black plait over her shoulder. "Gods know that a prince is work enough for any bheancoran. A husband also would be too much."
--
There are only three fates for a swimming pool during the afterparty of prom night.
Someone will urinate in it, someone will vomit in it, or someone will be thrown in, fully clothed.
Luckily for Sam, nobody had yet done either the first or the second when Adrienne Waring 'accidentally' knocked her into the pool.
--
I really do have a lot of them. And these are only the stories that have the vaguest possibility that they might someday be finished. As in 'someday, my prince will come' someday.
meeshyickle's LJ.--
It was pure serendipity that saved them.
That, and Carter, of course.
--
Sam walked briskly through the corridors, wondering why the General had called her up here.
The last she knew, all her team-mates were on base and in perfect health. They'd had lunch together, chatted over sandwiches, fruit and cake and teased the Colonel on his grey streaks while he growled at them. There'd been no klaxons, no alarms, nothing to indicate that something had gone wrong off base or on. It had been a silent day at the SGC – by anyone's standards, an anomaly.
As she approached the open door of the infirmary, she cast her mind back, trying to determine if the general had sounded different than usual. Maybe a little worried, but other than that...
Two steps into the infirmary, and she paused. Colonel O'Neill sat on the infirmary bed closest to the door, his arm bandaged, his expression grim, swinging his legs.
She blinked. "Sir? What happened to your arm?"
His head whipped around at the sound of her voice. Dark eyes widened, and he went dead white, staring at her as if he'd never seen her before. It was an unnerving response and one she didn't expect from him.
Beyond him, standing beside the head of the bed, General Hammond's expression was blank and unhelpful. Sam tried to read him for cues on what had happened, but the general offered no hints. She looked back at the Colonel, who was still staring at her.
"Sir?" She ventured, "Is everything okay?"
"Sam?"
--
She sees them whole as she sees herself whole.
No fragmentation of the spirit, no splitting of the soul: one being, one person...one team.
The way it should be.
The way it is not.
--
They'd wondered why the Gennii had built this bunker and then deserted it, not even stopping to pick up their boxes. Now they knew.
--
All-night vigils in the infirmary were hardly a new concept for SG-1.
Except that this time the vigil was not for one of their own.
Jack glanced up as Janet poked her head in, and rose from his chair. He glanced at his team-mates, Carter snoozing – boots and all – on a nearby bed, Teal'c sitting in kel no reem on the floor.
"How's Daniel doing?"
Glancing back at the young man in the other chair, his head on his chest, Jack shrugged. "I think the exhaustion finally took him."
"But the instant we try to move him he'll wake," the Doc murmured. She tilted her head to see around him, "Sam took the spare bed?"
"She offered it to Daniel, but he wanted the chair. Teal'c does just as well on the floor as anywhere…" Jack shrugged. SG-1 might not be keeping vigil for one of their own, but they were watching over one of their own as he kept vigil. Eviction had been futile, and in the end, the nurses merely glared at the four extra bodies littering the infirmary.
"How's he going so far?"
"He seems happy," Jack murmured, glancing back at his team-mate and the woman sleeping in the bed beside him. "It's what he joined the program for."
"And now that he's found her?" Janet asked softly. "What now?"
The question had been nagging at Jack for the last twelve hours. He answered the Doc in the same way he'd answered Carter all those hours ago. "That'll depend on Daniel."
--
He woke in a pearl of sweat, damp sheets clinging to damp skin, and lay in the darkness, panting.
Outside the window of his cabin, the night was full of the noises of the wild. A cricket chirruped in the tree outside, and small creatures rustled around in the leaf litter below. The screech of an owl resounded from the next valley over, a distant, triumphant sound.
Everything was as it should be.
Almost everything.
--
"Did you intend to leave him behind from the start?"
The accusation fell raw into the desert, like bloody flesh upon which the vultures of guilt feasted.
Somewhere in the distant sky above, endless and blue, the vultures circled, seeking the rotting flesh of dead animals. Here, there was just the two of them, alive and living and pent full of emotion: loss, grief, sorrow, guilt...
Anger.
She turned, brilliance and beauty, the flare of her hair as she whipped her face around to stare at him with a widow's eyes. "Did you?"
It hung between them, the carcass on the nail, crying out to be dealt with before it festered and putrefied.
"Do you think so little of me?"
Her sob was all the answer he needed.
"Diana..."
--
The wargames were supposed to promote unity in the mountain.
"Which really means we're going to engage in a day of 'my balls are bigger than your balls,'" said the Colonel, disgustedly.
"I don't suppose I could call off sick that day, sir?"
"Forget it, Major. I'm stuck going, you're stuck going."
Which was a pain in the ass, but the big brass ordered and the little brass marched.
--
The two slaves walked submissively behind the Jaffa, their heads bowed, their lashes lowered.
Considering their plans, it was just as well that the passing Goa'uld and Jaffa could not see their eyes. The sparkle of malice aforethought would have given away their intent.
"You're sure this will work?" The first slave demanded of the Jaffa as they stepped into a ring room and the doors slid shut behind them.
"I am." The burly Jaffa didn't even turn his head as he walked into the circle marked out on the floor and turned, waiting for the two to take their places in the transporter rings with him.
The second slave looked at the first, then silently went to stand beside the Jaffa.
"I don't like this," the slave said, his expression uncertain. "It's too...dangerous."
"And having seen what you've seen, you think that leaving Lir with the knowledge he has will be any less dangerous?" The words came from the second slave and carried authority.
"We'll be hunted."
The Jaffa gave the man a look of disgust. "Those of my kind who have chosen to renounce the Goa'uld as gods have been hunted since Teal'c son of Ronac rebelled against Apophis. Our own people will not accept the truth - that we have been enslaved by creatures who rely on us for their strength."
"Okay, okay," the man held up his hands in protest. "There's no need to be dramatic about it," he took his place beside the other slave. "I just have reservations."
"You can have all the reservations you want," his companion said, turning towards him. "But we can't afford to leave this knowledge in the hands of Lir."
He shivered a little under the intensity of that gaze. He'd seen such looks before from other slaves - usually the ones who had seen or done too much - or who'd had too much done to them. They were the most dangerous, because they'd passed through desperation and come out the other side. He was in this, whether he liked it or not.
"You have thrown your lot in with us," the Jaffa said as he activated the rings. "Do not fail all our peoples now."
The rings flashed up in blinding brilliance, and when it faded, the room was empty.
--
A cup of coffee was Dr. Elizabeth Weir's first notification that something strange was going on in Atlantis.
--
The evac from the Alpha site was rushed, as always.
Yet another planet lost to the Goa'uld. More good men and women dead.
It made Jack sick to think about it.
They'd had sufficient advance warning to know that the Goa'uld were coming, but not enough to know exactly what force had been mustered against them. So when four hat'ak and an alkesh loomed high in the sky, most of the Alpha personnel had already been sent to the Beta site.
Jack had made this jaunt through the Stargate just to be sure that his people – and he didn't just mean SG-1 – got off the planet before the Goa'uld came. There was nothing that moved the ass quite as effectively as the senior officer in your command glaring at a soldier as he packed equipment.
Jack had done his fair share of packing, but right now they were down to things that they could easily get elsewhere – things of no tactical use to the Goa'uld. MREs, benches and tables, paperclips and the like. The early warning hadn't been much, but it had been enough.
Spacecraft whined across the planet's atmosphere. "Daniel! Dial it out!"
As the last group of personnel grabbed the remaining boxes, Daniel dialled Cimmeria. According to protocol, the evacs from an invaded site always went through Cimmeria first, ensuring that the Goa'uld couldn't follow them to the new Alpha site.
Paranoid is as paranoid does, Jack thought, dryly. Only, it wasn't paranoia when they really were out to get you.
Teal'c and Carter were laying down cover fire, their weapons shuddering into the bleak sky. The personnel were ready to go as the event horizon 'whooshed.' And then there was fire and dust and blood and smoke.
Jack cried out orders, and watched as some carried boxes, and others angled rocket launchers. He longed to be among the soldiers hefting the unwieldy tubes, aiming them high into the sky. But he kept his P-90 tracking the gliders that spewed forth from the atmosphere, slipping in and out of the clouds overhead, and fired when they were in range.
The gliders were bad. They changed the odds, too manueverable to hit, but large enough to cause significant damage. They turned the tables, flipping them against the evacuees.
"Get through the gate!" He bellowed, "Drop everything and go now!"
He continued shooting at the gliders, pausing by the DHD, waiting as his people ran up the stairs and through the Stargate.
"Jack!"
"Daniel, go through!" He glanced beyond Daniel to the other side of the steps, where Carter and Teal'c stood their ground, still firing. "Retreat!" He bellowed, and hoped they heard. The last of the evacuees were up the stairs, and the gliders were still coming.
Teal'c fired one last shot and turned to leap through the Stargate. Daniel was through a moment later, his flak jacket gripped firmly in the hand of a retreating Lieutenant.
One last man ran, clinging onto the pack he'd grabbed, dodging the glider fire that peppered his footsteps. He stumbled, and Jack ran down to yank him up. Nobody gets left behind.
"General!" Carter held her position.
Stupid, stubborn woman. "Get through the damn gate, Colonel!" He had the man by the shoulder, booted feet stumbling for purchase.
Still the damn woman held her position. Her weapon chattered, and he heard something explode behind him. Then she was down the stairs and grabbing the other arm of the tardy evacuee.
Jack glimpsed her eyes, huge and shocked as she saw what was happening beyond him. Within one step, she'd matched his pace, an unconscious unity that attested to their years working together. They half-dragged the man up the stairs; his boots hardly touched the pavers. But behind him, Jack could feel the energy gathering. His hair prickled and his skin crawled.
They plunged into the undulating blue surface, cold sensation crawling over every inch of exposed skin. Jack felt the power of the blast ripple around him, beyond him, through him, transferring its energy into the event horizon of the wormhole and freeing the moorings that held it to the Earth Stargate.
Disembodied and unmade, Jack's senses screamed at him in fear.
Then the wormhole took them.
--
The instant Jack O'Neill emerged from the wormhole, he knew it was going to be one of those days.
It was probably the party of Jaffa that gave it away, staring in astonishment at the four travellers who'd emerged from the Stargate in the wooded area.
Jack was exceedingly proud of his team. Within a second, they'd taken stock of the situation and leaped for cover as staff-weapon blasts exploded around them. He hoped he'd get to tell them how proud he was of them later.
He really hoped there'd be a later.
--
She did not fear death.
The cord with which she was bound was thin. At her usual strength, she could easily have broken it.
It was the curse of an Amazon that she lost her strength when bound.
As they walked her into the cathedral, the high gothic spires thrusting up into the endless bleak grey of the city skyline, Diana looked up, into the hanging heads of those who had defied and died.
What means of mortuary skill kept the flesh unrotting, Diana could not imagine. Magic, perhaps, to renew their flesh daily, like Tartarus in his pit? And what better torment existed for those who had opposed and failed, but to witness those who followed in their footsteps, brought low by the Dark One?
They hung by their hair, staring down at those who entered his sanctuary with eyes that told of the horrors they'd endured before death had come at last, a release. And she shivered as she walked beneath them, feeling their eyes upon her, hearing their screams in her ears as she passed beneath their grisly remains and into the cathedral proper.
The young man walking before her glanced curiously over his shoulder at her. He was adolescent, and the younger of the two - the one walking at her back was his senior by several years and his superior by several dozen pounds of muscle.
They had not been the ones to take her down, of course. There was no man her match in physical strength but one - and that one had vanished many moons ago, with neither sign nor trace of his going.
Tonight, her assailant had been her match, not in physical strength, but in warrior skill. He had swiftly defeated her, using guile, tactics, and techniques which she had recognised but never learned. She was ashamed to acknowledge his skill outstripped hers as Master to a mere acolyte - and she was no mean warrior.
A bitter smile touched her lips. There would be no-one, at least, to witness his conquest. Of those who had gone up against him, she was the last; all others had been defeated.
--
If his brain got frequent flyer points, Daniel figures his would be a lifetime member by now. Twice over. Maybe even three or four times over. It would get the priority seating, the cushy service, the first-class beds and the effusive airline assistants handing it flutes of champagne as it stepped on the plane for another mind-bending journey.
--
She found him standing on the balcony of his mother's solar in the brisk night air.
"I don't suppose you'll go see Jonddynn about these dreams now?"
Kalin didn't need the inflections of her voice to tell him that she was annoyed at being woken by his discomfort the fourth time in as many nights. It was vibrating plainly enough in the bond they shared, prince and bheancoran.
"They're just dreams, Diani," he protested. "Nothing about which he needs to be bothered."
She moved into the periphery of his vision, the cloak she'd wrapped about her shifting slightly as she rested her hip against the balcony railing. "The fourth night in a row that these dreams have disturbed you, and you don't think he needs to be bothered about them?" Blue eyes regarded him, nearly eye to eye, for she was a tall woman.
"The fourth night in a row that these dreams have disturbed you?" He teased, a half-smile touching his lips as he looked at her. "Lucky for me you have no husband to protest when my nightmares rouse you."
"I doubt I would survive the two of you," she returned serenely, tossing her long black plait over her shoulder. "Gods know that a prince is work enough for any bheancoran. A husband also would be too much."
--
There are only three fates for a swimming pool during the afterparty of prom night.
Someone will urinate in it, someone will vomit in it, or someone will be thrown in, fully clothed.
Luckily for Sam, nobody had yet done either the first or the second when Adrienne Waring 'accidentally' knocked her into the pool.
--
I really do have a lot of them. And these are only the stories that have the vaguest possibility that they might someday be finished. As in 'someday, my prince will come' someday.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 12:47 pm (UTC)some of thoseall of them have me wanting more *mutters*no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 08:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 09:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 02:46 pm (UTC)I really want to know what happened to Jack in the second one.
I loved this line, from the War Games one:
Which was a pain in the ass, but the big brass ordered and the little brass marched.
Also, I'd almost pay you to write the Alpha Site evac. one... *g*
no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 08:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 10:58 pm (UTC)And do you accept
chequesfeedback?*sigh* I suspect my budget wouldn't meet your requirements... You do realise that it's going to be all your fault when I'm sitting in my database exam on Monday morning and all I can do it ponder that snippet of fic? *g*
no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 11:56 pm (UTC)*g*
Databases...as in...programming?
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Date: 2005-05-07 01:01 am (UTC)It's a talent I have. ;)
Databases...as in...programming?
Yeah. Well, maybe not so much. The databases section of my course was mostly on the ER diagrams, how to go about constructing an effecient/correct database and learning SQL and relational algebra til it came out of out ears rather than programming... Our assessment for the module involved a little Java programming for the interface, but since the point was to assess our database management/design skills and our wonderful knowledge of SQL, not our database Java programming, he gave us the code and we just had to alter it a bit. I'd probably have got on better with the Java, SQL and I have a hate-hate relationship...
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Date: 2005-05-07 01:13 am (UTC)Not that I'm good at it. :)
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Date: 2005-05-09 03:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-08 10:33 pm (UTC)Ruralstar