Hyacinth Girl

Best Kept Secret, 3/6. NC-17.

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 21:45:36 GMT

Title: Best Kept Secret
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for sex, violence and lots of f-bombs. The pr0n begins almost immediately, so be warned. :)
Pairing: Katie Bell/Marcus Flint.
Disclaimer: They're Jo's, and I'm borrowing without permission. I'll return her toys when I'm done with them.
Spoilers: Takes place after DH, minus the Epilogue of Doom; it is dead to me.
Summary: Katie Bell has just been promoted to the first string players of Puddlemere United. Unfortunately, this also seems to be the occasion her stalker needed to up the ante.

Best Kept Secret

Sitting in her living room knowing that a stalker was gradually getting more violent was only one thing unsettling Katie Bell. A glowering Marcus Flint pacing back and forth in her living room was another. Knowing that she could be compelled to do whatever he said without question was another. Knowing that she was attracted to him, even without active libido potion in her system, was downright frightening. She'd never been after the pretty boys, though she'd liked handsome and friendly. Marcus was still tall with rough features, broadly build and solid. Katie had the feeling that he had learned his control the hard way, that it was born out of life or death situations and that he would fly apart at the seams if he ever let go the way he used to when flying back on the pitch at Hogwarts.

It should have frightened her even more. It should have, but didn't.

He took care not to compel her too much, and kept his interaction with her fairly brusque and to the point. "Libido potions generally wear off in twenty-four hours," he had told her once they had returned to her flat. "We don't know what variant you've been dosed with or how it even responds in conjunction with the other ones. Just sit still and try not to think too much."

The fact that he was intelligent had nearly knocked her flat. It wasn't hard to sit there and not think after that comment.

Katie bit her lip and kept her arms wrapped tightly around herself, watching him pace. His hands were loose, as if ready to fly and hit something if any noise startled him. The steps he took were jerky, almost agitated, almost pained. Katie watched his face, the clench of his jaw and the hard look in his eyes. Anyone else would think he was fearsome, maybe intimidating. Even a day ago, Katie would have wholeheartedly agreed and gone on her merry way without crossing his path.

Right now, she couldn't help but look at his hands and mouth, at the hard set of them, and want to pull him down to her. It wasn't the libido potion any longer, she was sure. This didn't have the same kind of desperation she had the night before. This was a more quiet feeling, the vague ghost of his prior touch feeding it. She could remember the way he had touched her, the feel of his lips over hers, his hands holding her just so. She could feel the care he had taken with her before her own touch had pushed him too far. His language got crude, his kiss more desperate. He was in control because he had to be, not because he wanted to be.

"How did you get to be an Unspeakable?" she asked, breaking the silence. He glared at her, pacing off step before resuming his walk. "Look, I can't watch you pace like that, okay? Just say something. Breakfast was nice."

"It was Moody," he replied tersely after a moment.

"What?"

"Moody. Mad Eye Moody. He brought me over."

The words meant nothing to her, and Katie frowned at him. "Is that usual?"

"No, it isn't."

Katie glowered at him the best she could, though he wasn't fazed by her in the least. "I said talk, not grunt at me."

Marcus' hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I don't talk about this, all right?"

"Just say something..."

"Fuck! Bell! What do you want?" he snapped, whirling around, eyes blazing and entire body taut with tension.

He didn't like waiting, never had. But his entire life after Hogwarts was nothing but a waiting game, nothing but looking to see when the other shoe would drop. This was a thousand times worse; an innocent life hung in the balance.

"What happened?" she asked in a soft voice. She wasn't cowed by his anger, knowing full well where the frustration was coming from. She met his gaze head on, and he turned away first.

Marcus resumed his pacing, though his steps now were jerky and restless. "I joined up the Aurors after school. Flying wouldn't hack it. I needed to be in something full time, or I'd take the Dark Mark." Katie sucked in a breath, eyes wide. "So I was away in Auror school for two years when I came to Moody's attention. He was even more paranoid after he'd been taken, checked everyone out in the entire school top to bottom. Took me aside, knew I was avoiding the tradition. Every other Flint got the Mark but me, why was that? Fucking bastard. But he believed me when I said I didn't want it, when I didn't want any part of the war. So he shuttled me off to the Unspeakables training program. It was hush-hush, even more so than the Auror program. When they came looking for me, I was already gone."

Katie could see that even telling her this much was painful. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" he bit out, still pacing. "Not your fault. You were in school through all of that. You had enough you were going through your final year."

It didn't even surprise her that he knew about the cursed locket incident. She didn't even feel any irritation; everyone had known about it then, why not him, too?

"I shouldn't have made you talk about a painful subject if you didn't want to," she said in a small voice. "That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair, Katie," he said, not looking at her.

He couldn't stand the way she was looking at him, as if she could see him. And he couldn't stand feeling as though he had failed her already, as though he wouldn't catch this stalking bastard in time. She meant nothing— no, she should have meant nothing. She should have been merely a name in a file on his desk, a favor to Angelina Johnson, a smattering of facts he had drawn out of her friends and colleagues without them even realizing that he was building a character profile. Most of them had been easy, as a matter of fact. A chance meeting in a pub to talk about Quidditch would lead to her name on their lips as an up and comer on the reserve team, proud that she'd never been on the third string team.

She was curled up on her couch, legs tucked under her. He had to forget how soft her skin had been, how responsive she had been. It had been a mistake, that was all. She had been high on a libido potion, she wouldn't have ever come to him on her own. Never mind Angelina's assertion that libido potions were designed to augment natural desire. This was a variant, an unknown variant, and one concocted by her stalker. There was no guarantee that it behaved like normal libido potions. Marcus knew he was a dour looking man, knew that he was angry and difficult to talk to. There was nothing in him that she should want.

"Marcus, sit down, please," Katie said, a slight whine to her voice. "I can't take watching you pace anymore."

"The results should be back soon," he grumbled. A second set of labs had been taken, so the forensic potions master could measure the rate of metabolite degradation. He could then extrapolate back what the highest concentration had been, based on their rough estimate of when she had been dosed at the party. Then the potions master would have to match the metabolites to known potions ingredients, then figure out which variants containing those ingredients were likely to have been the base potion Katie had been dosed with. It was tedious and time consuming, and he hated waiting. He never handled waiting gracefully, which was why he always was given the active cases that were expected to be solved quickly. He moved swiftly, steadily, never seen. It was better that way for everyone.

Better to forget what might have been and what could never be.

He sat with a plop on the couch and a forbidding glower on his face. Katie's touch on his arm burned more than it should have, mattered more than it should have.

"I'll be okay if you're here," she said, voice soft and trusting.

He had tried to reset the wards on her flat, but he would have had to take apart the ones on the entire building first. She was in an old, old building, and the owners were fifth generation wizards who had bought the building from an elderly woman retiring to the south of France. They had no idea what wards were set into the building or how cutting the building into flats had worked. There was no sense of what ward was active on which flat, and it had been a disgusting exercise in frustration.

"I'd've felt safer if you let me move you elsewhere," he grumbled.

"Where am I going to go? What am I supposed to do? Run and hide?"

"Yes," he hissed. "Let me do my job."

Katie thought he would have let a curse word slip, but he was tightly reined in again. She reached out to touch his arm, but he shrugged off even the lightest of touches. Of course he wouldn't want her touching him. The last time she did, they shagged like mad weasels. It had to be the last thing he wanted to do, when she was nothing more than a case. Still, she was a Gryffindor. They didn't shy away from awkward situations, they ran headlong into them to fix it.

"Look, Marcus, I won't tell anyone about what happened last night, all right? I'll keep it a secret. You won't have to worry about being sacked or anything." She soldiered on gamely despite his withering glare. "Angelina thinks you turned me out after I hit on you. You're still an upstanding Unspeakable in her book. It'll be fine."

"It will not be fine," he insisted.

"Yes, it will," Katie insisted. "Just because you're some morose pessimist..."

"Stop talking," he hissed, eyes narrowing.

Her mouth snapped shut with a click of her teeth. She glowered at him as best as she could, but he seemed completely unaffected. She couldn't even open her mouth yet. So she did the only thing she could think of to get him to stop thinking so negatively.

She kissed him.

Now she could open her mouth, and she did so with gusto. She slid her tongue into his mouth, stroking his tongue with hers. She wound her hands into his hair, pulling him closer to her. She heard herself make a soft sound of pleasure as his hands slid down her back. Katie slipped one hand into the waistband of his pants and pulled out the shirt tucked in neatly. Her fingers ghosted over the planes of his stomach on her way to clutch at his back, and he stiffened at her touch. Marcus pulled back, breaking the kiss. "We can't."

She froze, unsure if it was her own uncertainty or the obedience potion effect. "But I want to. This is me, not some potion."

"That's not my concern," he began, brows furrowed.

"Bullshit," Katie spat, annoyed. "You're hiding behind your badge now, but you're just worried I didn't really want you last night."

"You said it wasn't like you."

"It wasn't. But that doesn't mean I didn't want it. That doesn't mean I don't want it now."

His eyes darkened. "Don't toy with me, Bell," he said darkly, brows like a thundercloud over his stormy eyes.

There was nothing to compel, and Katie laughed. "I'm not." She withdrew her hand from under his shirt to cup his face. "I'm not playing at anything right now," she murmured, staring him in the eye. "I want you. I couldn't stop thinking of you, of how you felt. I want it, Marcus."

His mouth crashed down to cover hers in a possessive kiss. She opened her mouth beneath his, her hands still on his face. He was reaching for her waist, for the denims beneath the overlarge shirt she had been wearing all day. They were unbuttoned and sliding down her legs before she realized it, and her panties along with them. He broke the kiss to pull her shirt over her head and toss it aside. He leaned down without saying a word to lick the side of her neck. It was almost as if he was afraid of saying anything that would get her to change her mind.

Marcus kissed a trail down to her breasts, and he kissed the tops of them as he reached behind her to unhook her bra. Katie's breath caught as he took a breast into his mouth and suckled gently, his hands running down her back as she sat there on the sofa. He was kneeling in front of her, between her spread legs, dark head at her breast. Katie threaded her fingers through his hair and leaned back against the sofa, her mouth falling open as she gasped for breath. He rolled his tongue around the nipple, hands running up and down her back. She moaned at the contact, at the gentle suction in his mouth

He was a quiet lover. He was still contained, still tightly controlled even as he moved to shatter her to pieces with his mouth and hands. Katie gasped as he left her breast and licked a trail down her body. Mouth falling open, she watched as his lips approached the mound between her legs, and she sucked in a breath out of surprise. "What...?"

"No one's done this before?" he asked, tone mild but eyes dark with desire. Katie could only shake her head. "Then let me be the first."

There was no tug inside her chest at the words. She had every intention of letting him have his wicked way with her, however he wanted to do it. She watched almost helplessly as he grasped her hips and drew her closer to the edge of the couch. Marcus bent his head lower down, then touched his tongue to her clit. She sucked in a breath at the sensation, soft and wet and good. Katie sighed, a hand working its way to thread her fingers through his dark hair. The other caught hold of his shoulder, nails digging in through his shirt. "Marcus," she whispered, canting her hips up toward his mouth.

She could almost feel his smile against her flesh but couldn't even feel offended. His hands held her hips in place when she would have bucked them against his mouth, and his tongue made lazy circles around her clit. She whimpered, fingers digging in tightly as she gasped. Marcus simply kept his eyes closed as he worked her clit with his tongue, breathing in the scent of her. He wanted to memorize every taste, every scent, every sound, every touch. He was half convinced she would regret it in the morning, when she had time to think about it and realize that she only wanted him because he was there, not because she actually wanted him. The other half hoped she was one of those daft girls that thought she could change him, that she could lure him into some kind of idyll just by the power of her sex.

Of course, she probably could. He had always been half in love with her anyway, and she was dazzlingly beautiful. She didn't even remember the time she had talked with him briefly at an open practice session before the reserve team got a chance to play. She had smiled with sheer joy for the game, for love of being with fellow fans. Her enthusiasm was infectious. She gave all of herself to everything, and he had basked in her sunshine for a brief moment.

Marcus was convinced this moment wouldn't last very long, but he would take every second of it that he could.

He moved one hand so that he could slide a finger inside of her as he moved to suck on her clit. She made a soft keening noise, nails scraping his scalp as she jerked against him. He slid his finger in and out of her, slow at first, then faster as her hips bucked against his mouth and she pulled at his shoulders, demanding more of him. He sucked harder, fingers curled inside of her, and she tightened around his fingers. "I'm uh... about... Merlin, Marcus, please, like that, there, please, pleasepleaseplease just like that, right there..."

Katie nearly leapt off of the couch as she came, hand flying to her mouth to muffle the cries. Marcus slowly let go of her clit, and let his fingers slow down and then pause. "Okay, there?" he asked, still sounding calm and unruffled.

Chest heaving as she tried to breathe, Katie could only nod at him. It wasn't fair that he seemed unaffected and she had just shattered to pieces. She looked at him with large eyes. "That was really good," she whispered, amazed. "Wow."

Marcus tried not to laugh, but failed. She gave him a sloppy grin, and he moved up to kiss her full on that smiling mouth. She could taste herself on his tongue, but wasn't quite repulsed. Maybe she should have been, but there was really no time for her to even think about it. She could feel his arms moving against her as he undid his trousers and slipped them down from his waist. He thrust into her, and she gasped, opening her mouth wider under his. Katie wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tried to shimmy into a better position. She wound up upsetting his balance, toppling them both from the couch onto the floor.

Laughing, Katie straddled Marcus on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. He looked disgruntled and moved about beneath her until he was able to toss aside one of her trainers that he had landed on. "Fucking hell, Bell, that's not funny."

"Still Bell and Flint, then?" she asked, hovering over him. He had fallen out of her when they tumbled to the floor, and she was just above the tip of his cock, taunting him with her proximity.

"Katie," he ground out. He grasped her hips, fingers digging in tight to try to push her down onto his cock. "Fuck, Katie. Blast it all to hell, Katie, don't," he groaned. She pursed her lips and leaned down to kiss him.

"Ask me nicely," she taunted.

He moved his hands from her hips and tangled them into her hair. "Katie, I want to come inside you. I want you to scream my name. I want to bend you over that coffee table and fuck you again, and then drag you back to your bed and do it all again." He growled at her smiling mouth. "What's so funny?"

"That's so bleeding hot," she whispered, sinking down onto him with a satisfied sigh.

Katie rocked against him, slowly at first. She'd only had sex twice before Marcus, and she and Lee had both been fumbling around trying to figure out how it worked. Marcus sighed and reached up for her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers. She gasped at the sensation, at the pleasure as she rocked against him. "Oh," she whispered, eyes flying open suddenly. "Right there feels really, really good."

"Didn't know you were a talker," he smirked, pinching her nipple gently.

"Me either," she admitted, moving faster against him. She groaned, arching her back as she picked up even more speed. One of his hands fell from her breasts to brush against her wet clit, and she made a soft keening noise. She moved faster, faster, almost frenzied, and Marcus grit his teeth as she tightened around him. She came, pulsing around his cock, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from coming just then.

Without giving Katie much of a chance to catch her breath, he moved her to kneel over her coffee table. "I wasn't kidding," he murmured in her ear as he leaned in behind her. He slid into her from behind, and she immediately gasped at the feel of him inside her. She grasped the coffee table for balance as he slammed into her, as she bit her lip to keep from nearly screaming in pleasure. She closed her eyes as she panted, incoherently telling him she was close, close, nearly there, right there, just there, again, please, ohmerlinpleaserightthereYES.

He kicked off his clothes as she lay against the coffee table limply, struggling for breath. Marcus ran a hand along her spine and then gently cupped her bottom. "All right, Katie?" She nodded, that loopy grin on her face. "Good, because I'm not done with you yet."

Marcus carried her to her bedroom and slipped into her as soon as he was able. He knelt between her spread legs, hooking her knees over his shoulders and tilting her hips up over his thighs. She was bent nearly in two as he thrust into her, and she held onto him as she gasped with every deep thrust hitting home. She kept her eyes open this time, watching the intensity of his gaze over her, the strain of holding himself back. Katie scratched his back and tilted her hips further, deepening the angle he thrust into her. "Come with me," she panted.

"Going to anyway," he grunted, moving at a rapid and erratic pace. She was tightening, scratching at him, wriggling and then her body worked his as she came. He let go with a groan, eyes sliding shut.

It was like watching a veil fall away. The creased lines all smoothed out, and Marcus looked at peace for the first time that Katie had ever seen him. He collapsed down on top of her, hands tangled together, his face near the crook of her neck. She liked the feel of him there as he settled comfortably over her. She liked how his fingers moved softly against hers, how his hair tickled the skin right where her neck met her shoulder. She wrapped her other arm around him, rubbing his back gently. Katie smiled, eyes falling shut. She felt comfortable with him, though she knew it made no logical sense. Maybe if she hadn't met him, hadn't seen glimpses of him here and there, she would have thought it would be impossible to talk to him, let alone shag him.

"What're you smiling about, you daft bint?"

"Don't spoil the mood," she admonished playfully.

"There's a mood? Are you sure?"

Katie laughed at his surly tone. "Well, there was." She rubbed his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath the skin. "You feel good."

He snorted and settled in comfortably on top of her. "You're definitely soft in the head."

You have to stay with me, even after this is all sorted, she thought. He would probably leave and not look back. He would probably think she was silly and letting her hormones get away from her. But there was just something about him that she couldn't help but latch onto, something that she couldn't get enough of. He was thoughtful in some ways, even if he tried to hide it, even if he tried to growl loudly and keep others at bay.

"S'okay," she said instead, yawning. "Yours is hard enough for the both of us."

He swatted her head playfully, and they settled down to sleep.

***
***

Edge of Dawn, 21/30. NC-17.

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 21:34:41 GMT

Title: The Edge of Dawn
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: The Wizard of Oz belongs to Frank Baum originally and the modifications belong to SciFi.
Rating: NC-17 for language and lovingly rendered sex.
Pairing: DG/Cain, Azkadellia/OMCx2
Warnings: This takes place after the SciFi movie.
Summary: Smoke and mirrors, lost hope and dreams. Some realms are meant to be saved, and others are meant to be destroyed.

The Edge of Dawn

Previous chapters located here.

Cain awoke to a sea of anxious faces hovering over him. He glowered at them all, though he lessened it when he saw DG's stricken expression. "What are you doing here? Don't we have to get to this Dawn Sanctuary?"

"But Mr. Cain," Ozma replied, affronted. "You were so ill. The ribbons were tied too tight around you."

That didn't make any sense. He sat up and shook his head to clear it. He looked at DG, who had a handful of red ribbon in her lap. She kept running it through her fingers, pulling at the ribbon. He looked at her expression, at the hurt in it.

And then he remembered nearly choking her to death.

DG could tell when he remembered the night in the forest. Cain stiffened and looked as though he wanted to shut down and turn away. "There was a very nasty thread magic spell placed on you," she said hastily, lifting the red ribbons in her hands. "We had to undo it, or you would have been trapped here forever."

Cain reached out and tugged on the ribbons in her hands. It seemed as if a spool of bright red ribbon had been pulled out and bunched together. It was intricately woven, with little frilly edges that likely made it more difficult to unknot. He frowned at the others and tugged at sections of the ribbon. "I don't remember this."

"Dorothy made the ribbons real like this when she pulled them off. But you need magic sight when it's still a spell thread." Ozma smiled at Cain and tugged at the thread herself. "Isn't it pretty? It was done up in so many different knots and such, and anchored in six different places. Six." She huffed a bit. "Can you believe it? Six. I don't remember any spells being so difficult before. But it's been thousands and thousands of years since I've last done any kind of magic, so maybe there used to be."

"What does that mean?" Cain asked, looking between the three women. There was no use looking at Bruce; he was next to useless even if Ozma seemed to think he was a perfect gentleman. Sometimes being a knight meant that politeness had to be brushed aside. He was her idea of a knight, all chivalry, bowing and etiquette. Sometimes etiquette needed to be breached, and no one was polite in battle. That was something that Ozma didn't seem to understand. War wasn't pretty.

"Somehow, someone that knows very old magic got a hold of you," DG began, hands trembling ever so slightly. She began toying with the ribbons just to keep them occupied. "Thread magic. Like this stuff. So it was worked into you over a long period of time. It was supposed to corrupt you, make you do things you would never do. Make you hurt all of us, to keep us from getting there."

He thought of the way her throat felt under his hands, nails digging into them. He thought of her expression, the disbelief and pain.

Cain had been a bastard, even if magic was to blame.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, taking her hands in his. "I'm so sorry."

"You couldn't help it, Mr. Cain," Ozma replied, patting his arm despite her feelings about touching commoners. "Whoever this was is very powerful, very old and very mean. Riverfel chains are nearly indestructible, and they are very dark things. They've been forbidden from the Dawn. You have to have almost pure light unweave it if it's bound to you."

Ine'che laid a hand onto DG's shoulder. "This one was definitely born of light. You can see it in her patterns."

Ozma blinked. "I thought it was obvious. The younger girls in the Gale line are like Dorothy, and the older ones like her sister Delia."

"What was that?" DG whispered, not sure she heard correctly.

"Dorothy wanted a little girl," Ozma replied with a shrug. "She said she wanted to have a daughter and name her after her sister."

"I never knew she had a sister. None of the stories tell of one."

"Delia died a long time before she came to Oz, a long time. Dorothy didn't like to talk about it." Ozma shrugged. "She only mentioned it because she asked me if there was a way to ensure she had at least one daughter."

"What happened?" DG asked, seeing Cain straighten up now that the focus was shifted from him for a bit.

"Well, I assured her that she could have whatever she wanted. And the first daughter would be like Delia. And just to be fair, the second daughter would be just like her." Ozma smiled brightly. "I thought that was fair."

"And just like that, the course of the Gale line shifted," Ine'che murmured, shaking her head. "I never thought..."

DG turned to face Ine'che. "You know about the OZ?"

"It's easy enough to pass between worlds if you know the way. Is that where you planned to go?"

"Yes," Cain replied. "DG needs to return to Central City as soon as possible."

"Well, I need to go home," Ozma added, cutting off DG's reply. "And Auntie Lurlaine will help them go back to their home. I told them so."

Ine'che nodded slowly. "Any favor comes with a price, little one."

Ozma patted Ine'che's arm and stood. "Oh, go on. My Auntie will help them if I ask. She's very sweet and helpful, for all that she's a Queen. She's kept the peace for thousands and thousands and thousands of years."

"The price of peace can sometimes be too high."

"Auntie knows best," Ozma told her, looking as though she was parroting someone. She smiled vacantly and then moved to Bruce's side. "We will go on to Auntie as soon as Mr. Cain feels better. We'll be all right, and we'll be at Dawn and safe and happy and it's going to be all right."

DG grasped Cain's hands tightly, squeezing until he looked at her. "We'll get through this. For better or for worse."

If anything, he blanched. He turned away and found himself looking eye to eye with Midnight. The mobat clambered up onto his chest and curled into his arms, as if giving him a hug. Cain awkwardly patted the mobat, who purred and swished his tail happily.

"He missed you."

"I wasn't gone long," Cain protested, not quite able to meet DG's eyes.

"Almost two days," DG corrected with a sad smile. "The one with the spell and then a day of recovery." She bundled as much of the red ribbon as she could in her fist. "I still haven't figured out what to do with this. I'm so tempted to fuck up the bitch that did this to you."

Cain faced her and folded his hands over hers. Midnight shifted so that he was clinging to Cain's back and could look between the two of them. "Don't do that. It's not worth that effort." I'm not worth that effort, he meant, and they both knew it.

"You are," DG whispered fiercely. "And if I just knew what I would do, then I can stop feeling weird around you."

"You feeling weird?" he echoed, stunned. The worry he had about her solidified in his gut. He hadn't realized he had traumatized her so badly...

"Well, you hate it if I do something stupid. And I really want to do something stupid. Really stupid. And possibly dangerous. And did I mention stupid? Because it probably is."

Cain couldn't suppress a grin at DG. She always managed to find a way to make him smile, even if she didn't mean to. "Why? What are you planning in that devious mind of yours?"

DG gave him a feral smile. "Ozma said messing with someone else's magic thread can do bad things to them. And I intend to use these ribbons I've got right here. I just need to think of something nasty enough. Somehow I don't think that ripping them into little bits is bad enough. Shredding someone's magic is a waste."

"Azkadellia used to kill people with magic."

She shook her head. "I don't want to kill anyone. And that whole sucking their soul out of their mouth thing was creepy."

Ine'che's gaze sharpened. "Your sister ate souls?"

"Just a few," DG admitted sheepishly. "It wasn't her fault. She was possessed by an evil witch when it happened."

Ine'che turned away. "I'm not sure I would like this world of yours."

"Az is different now. The witch was taken out of her, and she's dead now. And it was my fault she even was possessed in the first place. If I had stayed, she wouldn't have been overwhelmed by the witch. It was all my fault... First for hearing the witch calling out from the cave in Fenaqua, then for running away and leaving Az behind. So don't hate my sister for my mistake."

Cain had grasped hold of DG's shoulder as she spoke, giving her his support. He didn't think very much of himself right then, but he knew that she blamed herself for the incident. If only she had noticed something was wrong, she could have undone it somehow. If only she had been strong enough to fight him off. If only...

"Fenaqua, you said," Ine'che murmured, surprised. "Water prison?" Her voice trailed off as if she had just realized something, then she clamped her mouth shut.

"It's the old name for the place," DG told her, concerned. "The lake is beautiful, and there was a summer palace there. What is it? Why does that mean something to you?"

"I told you before," Ine'che murmured. "I am very old, and my memory is very long. But I'm not sure what I'm thinking is even true."

"What do you suspect?" Cain asked seriously. He dimly remembered asking the same thing of Azkadellia. It felt like so long ago. "It might sound odd, but after everything else that's happened to us, I would believe you."

"The royal family used to be much larger," Ine'che intoned, eyes flicking toward Ozma. The blonde princess had long since ignored them, and was letting Bruce dazzle her with sleight of hand tricks. "Her aunt did not like competition, and liked being questioned even less. She exiled her own blood in an effort to keep her precious peace and maintain control of this place. One could manipulate water."

DG paled and looked between Cain and Ine'che. "We have to get to the Dawn Sanctuary."

"That isn't the only way to your realm. Soft places sometimes can link to other soft places, though it isn't a guarantee of meeting your world."

"So we're headed to the Dawn Sanctuary," DG replied with a sigh.

"Will the Queen harm us?" Cain asked, voice low and concerned. Midnight frowned at him, and nuzzled closer as if he could cheer up the tin man by sheer force of will.

"Not with the child around," Ine'che replied, watching Cain absently stroke the mobat. She smiled, amused. His gruff exterior was rather transparent at times. She nodded at them and stood. "We should rest for a time," she said. "You are still somewhat weakened from the spell." She turned to DG and glowered at her. "You are not to do anything foolish. Royal servants can still be avenged."

Ine'che took Ozma and Bruce outside, saying something about finding firewood and whatever natural food the forest could offer.

"I'm surprised she left me alone with you after what happened," Cain began in a low tone.

"We're not alone," DG replied, wadding up the red ribbon to shove into her jeans pocket. She smiled at him and indicated Midnight. "See? We're not alone. He's here to chaperone us."

"Somehow I don't think he counts as a chaperone," Cain sighed.

DG took Cain's face in her hands. "Are we back to the beginning, then? Where you think you're awful for me and not good enough?"

"I strangled you! I nearly killed you!" Cain raged, jumping to his feet. Startled, Midnight leapt from his back and took to flying in circles above them, confused. "How can you possibly think I can forget that?"

"I don't," DG told him simply, voice soft. "But I know it wasn't you. I knew something had to have happened. And I want to get past it. Don't you get it? I want this to be over. I want it behind us, however we can get it there."

Midnight settled onto DG's shoulder and pulled at her hair gently. She sighed and detached the mobat from her shoulder, then let it curl over the front of her torso. "See? Not exactly conducive to sex, okay?" she told Cain. She frowned at him. "You told me everything wasn't my fault. What does it take to get you to think the same thing?"

Cain shook his head. "I've made a lot of mistakes in my time, but strangling the one I love has never been one of them."

DG smiled softly and sat down next to him. She bumped shoulders with him playfully. "So you admit you love me, then?"

"I did a long time ago," Cain replied with a sigh. "But that doesn't solve anything, you know."

She leaned her head down on his shoulder. "I know." Midnight made a snuffling noise and crawled over DG's chest to perch on her shoulder. DG turned her head slightly to look at Cain. "But it means we can start again. It means this doesn't have to be over."

Cain took her hand in his and squeezed tightly. "I don't want this to be over, either. I just don't know how to start again."

DG smiled, lip quirked in amusement. "Shall I put a spell on you, then?"

He pulled back in horror. "No!"

She laughed. "I wouldn't. Just wanted to see your reaction."

"That's not something to joke about!"

"If we can't laugh about this, about whatever else goes wrong, this won't work," DG murmured softly. "My robot parents told me that once," she said, smiling even though it was evident she was about to cry.

Cain sighed and took her face in his hands. "I'm sorry, DG. I'm so sorry. I have all these good intentions for you, and one by one they all fall apart."

"It's a sign," DG said wryly. "Stop having any intentions toward me."

He looked at her, startled, then began to laugh. "I probably should. And no promises either, or I'd have to break them."

"I only want one promise from you. No, two."

Cain waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't. DG merely sat there, looking smug. "Okay, what are those two promises?"

"One, you have to promise to love me..."

"I already do," Cain muttered, shaking his head.

"And two," DG continued as if she hadn't been interrupted, "is to always be faithful. That's it."

"I can do that," he began slowly. "Barring any spells put on me. I didn't expect to hurt you." He paused. "I notice you didn't ask me to promise not to hurt you."

DG's smile was bittersweet. "I don't want you to break any promises, and you're too noble sometimes. You might do something in my best interest, or what you think is in my best interest, and I could be hurt." She shrugged and attempted to look nonchalant. "I'm not stupid. I don't think you'd ever willingly hurt me, but things happen. I could get my feelings hurt. But they'd be even more hurt if you left me."

Her quiet admissions shook Cain to the core. For all of her youth and inexperience, she was able to be brave enough to lay herself bare to him. He resisted doing just that, hiding behind duty and expectations. With a sigh, Cain took up her hand again. "I try to be noble and to follow the rules to be a good tin man. Sometimes I can't. I should let you go. I should make you go. But I can't. I can't make myself do that, to have you walk out of my life anymore. I still think it's a mistake, and that after what happened here I should. I don't know how this will work. I don't know what to do about us."

DG sighed and squeezed his hand back. "Simple solution, then. Stop thinking."

Cain turned to look at her, intending to protest. She took the opportunity to kiss him. It was a simple kiss that told him of her longing and hope, her undying love and faith in him. When the kiss ended, he sighed and touched his forehead to hers. "I can try."

She smiled, and he could feel his heart clench in his chest. "I can work with that."

***

missing pieces, was seen, was seen

missing pieces, missing parts, losing track of the original plan

my lady will be angry with me, tear the rest to pieces, tear everything else and remove all evidence as she's done before and will do again if she's ever crossed

cannot go back, cannot return, not in pieces, not with holes, not with the misson undone

cannot return, cannot go back for fear of my lady, unraveled, in pieces, my lady will be angry if she sees what's left of me, what was left undone

will latch to the girl, will take back whatever is left

cannot fail again

***
***

crossover from hell...

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 14:06:44 GMT

I'm still shaken, even though it's four hours later and I KNOW it wasn't true and it was just a dream. But I can't shake the quiet horror that woke me up.

It started with what I thought was going to be some kind of funny mashup. I mean, there was Captain Jack Harkness and Jayne conferring over a job and I was there as part of the dream, too. I think I was Gwen, though I was dressed in the outfit I had to buy for my Ohio interview when Delta lost my luggage. Minus the bra for some reason, because I was holding it and needed to put it on but I refused to do it in front of the boys. (Brain, seriously, we need to talk. Gwen? Hopefully it was S2 or COE Gwen, because S1 Torchwood was the Gwen Show and I hated her then...) Jayne was acting like he had a secret he didn't want to discuss, and stalked off somewhere.

And then I was me, and Jay was there, too. We were on a station that had its own internal sea with a beach and tides, and the entire Firefly cast was there for the job. No more Jack, tho. Or if he was, I had no idea where he was. We were looking for Kaylee, who was missing, and Maddy. Kaylee had been babysitting Maddy during the job we all did, and they were both missing. And then I saw Jayne, still looking almost guilty, and the dream flashed to what happened the night before. A very drunk Jayne had sex with Kaylee (Again, brain, WTF? I'm not down with that ship at all!) and left her tangled up in some setting even though she was screaming at him that she was stuck and couldn't get out of it and the tide was coming in. And she had been babysitting Maddy, so she was somewhere around there. The dream flashed to the present, where the crew was fishing Kaylee out of the sea, still tangled in the netting, and they supposed she had stumbled into the netting, fell over the dock and drowned. But where was Maddy?? Jay and I were looking down at her crib, which was more like the hotel crib she had been sleeping in at the hotel in Wisconsin (Iowa used a pack and play) and not hers at home. But she was blue and still, wet hair all tangled. Jay was telling me this must be how our friends (IRL) must have felt when they miscarried, and I just looked at him numbly, crying. I knew she was sick, but it was just an ear infection, nothing serious since she has Augmentin now. And then I picked her up, and she was wet and cold and stiff, and it was so obvious that she had drowned and was dead, too.

My eyes snapped open then. No screaming, no thrashing, just awake. Jay was sleeping, snoring away, and our monitor is turned up high enough I can hear the radiator tick on in Maddy's room. I reach over him to hit the button for the video, but she's so swathed in blankets it was hard to see. Just as I push my blankets back and maneuver around Indy, Maddy made a noise as she stirred in her sleep.

Didn't matter. Ten minutes later, still wide awake and mentally shaking, I get up and check on her anyway. She is fine, of course, and I woke Jay when I crawled back into bed. I only told him the last part, the horrible part, and he just mumbled it was a dream and she's fine.

WTF, brain. Why would you do this to me? I'm still all shaky inside, even though I've had a lot of cuddles and she's fine and she's banging away on her toys as I type this.

Brain, you are FIRED. Stop with the freaky ass dreams already!

Edge of Dawn, 20/30. NC-17.

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 20:02:33 GMT

We've hit the two thirds mark! Not sure if I'll get a chance to post anything later today or tomorrow. Hopefully by next week I'll be back on my usual Monday night posting schedule.

Title: The Edge of Dawn
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: The Wizard of Oz belongs to Frank Baum originally and the modifications belong to SciFi.
Rating: NC-17 for language and lovingly rendered sex.
Pairing: DG/Cain, Azkadellia/OMCx2
Warnings: This takes place after the SciFi movie.
Summary: Smoke and mirrors, lost hope and dreams. Some realms are meant to be saved, and others are meant to be destroyed.

The Edge of Dawn

Previous chapters located here.

Keep this chapter away from little children. Smut ahoy!

Azkadellia sank down into the scented bath she had drawn. Her childhood rooms were quiet and still, and seemed to echo horribly with its silence. Della had gone off in search of whatever he could salvage from the palace. That same just in case hung between them unsaid, but it weighed on them just the same. Neither could imagine a world without Callan, and neither wanted to acknowledge the possibility.

She closed her eyes and just reveled in the feel of the water across her skin. It was warm, almost hot, and smelled like her favorite perfume. She could almost pretend there was nothing to worry about, nothing to fear, nothing to avoid. She could pretend that everything was fine, and she was merely preparing for a ball or for meeting either of her men.

Callan would have laughed to hear himself referred to in that way, and her heart clenched in her chest. He couldn't be dead. He just couldn't be dead. It didn't matter that Della had seen the smoke on the horizon, the unmistakable mark of fire in the snow. Callan couldn't be dead. He was crafty, and he was the department Ghost. He would have found a way to survive it. He had to have found a way to survive it. Azkadellia didn't want to even think of any other possibility if she didn't have to.

When she felt ready, she stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in a towel as she walked back into her old room.

She collided bodily with Benji Callan, scrapes along his jaw and tattered uniform on his frame.

Azkadellia's eyes widened with joy and she grabbed hold of him almost desperately. "I missed you," she whispered, burying her face against him. She inhaled the scent of him, reveled in the feel of him in her arms. "By the suns, I missed you."

His arms encircled her slowly, and he squeezed gently. "Sorry I couldn't get here any sooner."

Azkadellia pulled back and hit his chest with her fist. "You scared us half to death! We thought you might be hurt. Or dead. Or worse!"

Callan swept her up into his arms and swung her around. "Worse than being separated from you? There's nothing worse than that." He deposited her back on the ground, her back to the wall. "I'm sorry, Delia. I'm so sorry." He grasped her face in his hands. "I was such an idiot. I told you that before. I worried you and I really shouldn't have... I'm an idiot sometimes, and I don't always know when to stop pushing and be stupid. It's why Della calls me idiot or fool, you know. All the time, sometimes, because I really do get that way. So sometimes I need reminders to stop pushing people past where they're comfortable. Feel free to tell me that if I need it. Sometimes I'm just an idiot and I don't realize it..."

Azkadellia placed her fingers over his mouth. "Benji. You're being an idiot. Stop it."

They grinned at each other, and Callan took her fingertips into his mouth as he tugged on the towel wrapped loosely around her. "I like this homecoming," he leered.

Azkadellia kissed him softly, almost reverently, making sure he wouldn't simply vanish. She had to be sure he wasn't a dream. She had to be sure he was real.

Callan let her take the lead in tone. He was dying to ravish her, to throw her onto her bed and make her see stars right away. But by the way she touched him, he knew he had to slow it down a bit more. She was getting over her avoidance of grief, getting over her fear of his death. He could understand that. He very nearly didn't make it.

Callan opened his mouth under hers, deepening the kiss. She slid her tongue into his mouth and let her hands curl around his neck and shoulders. He was taller than she was, and she needed to hang onto him for balance. Azkadellia needed to feel him, needed to be sure he was real and there in the room with her. She didn't put it past herself to have created something in her misery that would pass for Callan but wouldn't be.

He grasped her hips and lifted her up. She squeaked in surprise, breaking the kiss and threw her arms around him to keep from falling. She had never liked losing her balance, and vestiges of the Witch's discomfort for being in the air remained with her. She needed her feet on the ground, not suspended in midair.

Nipping at her earlobe, he laughed. "It'll be easier for you to kiss me if we're the same height, don't you think?" He kissed her throat and the underside of her jaw, then licked her lips. "Unless you want to kiss other places on me. I readily approve either way."

No, that would be Callan. Azkadellia couldn't have imagined someone as irreverent and playfully seductive at once.

She kissed him, tongue sliding into his mouth, her arms tight around his shoulders and her legs wrapped around his waist. She could almost forget being suspended against the wall, almost. When he moved a hand down to cup her breast and thumb the nipple, Azkadellia felt a shot of pure lust go through her. She moaned into his mouth, arching into his touch as best as she could while up against the wall. Callan broke the kiss first to breathe, and Azkadellia tucked her face against his neck as she panted.

"I think you like this," he whispered, giving her nipple a light pinch. He laughed at her moan, then kissed her neck. "Could I make you come for me just like this? Just by touching this and telling you how much I want you?" He licked her neck and felt her hands tighten around his shoulders. "Oh, Delia, you can't even imagine what you feel like, how much I want you right this second." His fingertips ghosted down from her breast to the juncture of her thighs. His other hand was cupping her rear, giving her balance as she clung to him. He traced her folds, damp from the bath and her growing need. "Oh, yes, you like this." His breath was hot by her ear, and Azkadellia could barely breathe. "Do you want me to tell you what I'll do to you? How much I want to taste you, to put my fingers inside of you and feel you come? Can you feel how much I want you?" he murmured, slipping a finger inside of her. "Can you tell?"

"Benji," Azkadellia whimpered, pressing her face into his shoulder. "Benji, please..."

"Please what, my princess? Please you? Certainly," he told her with a smile, sliding his finger further inside of her. He brought his thumb up to her clit, and she made a small keening noise of pleasure. "Oh, yes. You like this. Is it just my fingers you like? Or other parts of me?" Callan began to move his finger in and out of her, slowly, thumb brushing against her clit as he slid his finger back all the way in. Azkadellia made soft mewling sounds, hands clenched even tighter on his shoulders. He couldn't help but smile as her breath caught, as she tried to curl up and around him as he moved against her. "I think it's other parts you like better, hm?"

Her hands scrabbled across his back as she moaned at his touch. She stuttered over his name, not able to speak as she struggled for breath.

"Ah, Delia," he murmured against her hair. "Do you know what you do to me? How you feel? How you sound?" He crooked his finger inside of her and she made a soft noise of pleasure. "Exquisite, did you know that?" he whispered, closing his eyes. He hadn't even allowed himself to dream of this on the way north. He would have been too distracted to drive the transport and keep an eye out for stray Longcoats, would have lost himself in remembered details.

Azkadellia whimpered softly, feeling him move his fingers inside of her. It was fantastic and too slow at once, and she needed more of him. She couldn't form coherent thoughts enough to say something to that effect, and she knew he was fully aware of that. She held onto him tightly, afraid of falling and needing to get inside his clothes all at once. He smelled of smoke and sweat and desire, and she wanted to take him inside of her and feel everything all at once. The closest she could get to speech was soft mewling sounds, which only made him smile and talk even dirtier.

"I think you like other things more," he whispered against her ear when she tried to push her hips up against his hand. "I think you want me, all of me, right now like this. Don't you? Don't you, Delia? Don't you want me inside of you, pushing all the way in, my mouth on yours and making you come?" He nipped her earlobe when she moaned, shaking with need. She made a noise in protest when he drew his hand all the way out of her to open the front of his pants, but sighed in relief when he sank inside of her to the root. "Delia," he groaned, pushing up into her. "You feel so good," he moaned. He grasped her hips, tilting them slightly as he thrust into her. He nearly growled at the feel of her, at the strangled cries she made as he thrust. "I'll make it up to you," he ground out, feeling her tighten around his cock. She was close to coming, teetering over the edge. "I'll make up for every second you worried about me, every second you were afraid I'd left you."

Azkadellia could feel her entire body tighten, and she shut her eyes as she panted. Close, so close, his voice like warm honey surrounding her. It didn't even matter what he said anymore, just the sound of his voice and his hands on her and his cock inside of her and then she could feel herself unravel in his arms with a guttural cry.

Callan caught her up in his arms and pulled her away from the wall. It was a distance to the bed, and Azkadellia clung to him, afraid of falling. He nearly fell over, but managed to catch his balance and bring her over to the bed. He tumbled down on top it, over Azkadellia, and didn't give her a moment to catch her breath. He was inside of her again, thrusting the full length of himself into her. He palmed her breast with one hand, using the other arm to hold himself up for balance. Azkadellia grasped his arms, arching up off of the bed, incoherently moaning as he kept sliding in and out of her wet heat. He felt so good, pleasure radiating though her entire body. She might have tried to call his name as she writhed, might have tried to tell him that his voice was soft and sinuous, needy and pleasurable all at once. He might have replied to her, might have told her how beautiful she was and wonderful she felt and how much like a living dream she seemed to be. He might have, but then she was coming again, crying out at the flurry of feeling shooting through her.

He kept thrusting into her, kept moving at a steady pace. He leaned down, changing the angle of his thrusts. Azkadellia whimpered, sliding her hands across his back. She scrabbled at his uniform jacket, pushing at it. He took the hint and shrugged it off, then leaned up so he could unbutton the shirt. She helped him, fingers shaking and stumbling across the fabric. Grinning, Callan kept moving inside of her as he pushed the rest of his clothing off. "Like the feel of me, do you?" he grunted, leaning down again. She sighed as she moved over his bare back, muscles working beneath her fingertips. "Like knowing I'm inside you? That I know how to touch you, I know how to make you come?"

Azkadellia whimpered and clawed at his back as she arched up against him. "Ben," she panted, twisting beneath him, his mouth at her throat. "Oh my stars, Ben," she moaned.

Licking her neck on the way to her ear, he grinned. "Tell me how much you want me, Delia," he whispered, breath hot by her ear. "Tell me how you want it, if you want me harder, if you want my hands, if you want my mouth on you." He took her earlobe between his teeth and tugged gently. He laughed at her incoherent moan. "Tell me," he murmured, then licked the outer shell of her ear. "I've got you, I've got you. I'll make you come a hundred ways if you want me to, if you need me to." He reached down between them and found her clit, still slick and wet. "I'm close, so close, love, but I'll keep going for you." He stroked her clit, and she made a desperate noise, writhing beneath him. "Tell me what you want, Delia," he whispered, thrusting hard as she tightened around him.

"I can't," she panted, eyes falling shut as she reveled in the feel of him. "Can't hold on..."

"Come for me," he whispered, working her clit harder. She mewled in reply, nails digging into his shoulder desperately as she approached another orgasm. "I want to hear you," he whispered, licking her ear. "Let me know how much you like it."

And she was coming, moaning and feeling as if she was exploding.

Her body worked his cock hard, and Callan grit his teeth to keep from coming right there. "Delia?" he murmured. "I can't last much longer. You have to tell me if you want more..."

She pulled him closer, unable to form coherent words. He kept thrusting into her, fingers still at her clit. She whimpered, hands moving down his back to cup his buttocks. "Benji," she whimpered, arching up against him. "Too much," she panted. "Almost too much..."

He grinned and kept up the tempo. "Just like this? With me inside you and my fingers on you?" She groaned, twisting beneath him, hands clenching tight. "So sensitive, aren't you? Just a light touch on your clit..." He stroked gently, and Azkadellia made a keening sound again. She licked her lips, mouth dry from panting. "Can you come for me again? Pull me down with you? I want to feel you around me, I want you to pull it out of me, make me come with you, make me feel it like you do..."

Azkadellia gave another small cry as she came. This time, Callan let go and came as well. He tensed, feeling his cock pulse inside of her as she milked him. He gently lowered himself down on top of her, panting. She circled him with her arms and pressed her face against his neck as she struggled to catch her breath.

"I think I got you all messy again," he murmured, fingering her hair, strewn beneath them. She laughed, not caring one bit. "Maybe I'll bathe with you? Mm? That sound good?"

"Don't know if I could survive it," Azkadellia breathed, laughing.

"I'll protect you," Callan replied, grinning. "I'll be a perfect gentleman, taking time to soap you up and wash every inch of you. I'd like that," he murmured, nipping the tip of her nose. "I'll make sure you're squeaky clean when I'm done."

"Sounds awfully fun."

"Oh, it will be," he promised, kissing her throat. "I meant it. I'll make up for every bit of time you worried about me." He picked his head up. "But where is that Della? He got a head start, didn't he? You said you both worried?"

Azkadellia took his face between her hands. "Idiot. Of course we did. Didn't want to think of how we'd be without you." She traced the edge of his lips with her thumb. "He went exploring to see if he could find anything useful in the castle before we head north."

"Useful? In this maze of a place? It would take a lifetime to wander through it."

"He knows the way now," she replied.

"How? I know he can track anything, but even going through an unknown maze of a palace is a stretch of his skills."

"I cast a spell on him," she murmured, looking almost anxious about it. "It's a modified form of the obedience spell," she began quickly. She looked up at him, concerned that he would think badly of her for casting anything on either of them. "I took out the obedience part," she explained, not letting him speak just yet. "It just has the locator part left. So he could find me anywhere, anytime he likes. I wouldn't do anything worse than that. I wouldn't want to..."

Callan covered her mouth with his fingertips. "I trust you. I'm sure he does, too."

"I don't want you think I'm the Sorceress," she murmured, rolling over so that she straddled him. "I don't want you to think badly of me."

He rested his hands on her hips and smiled. "I don't think I ever could." He ran his hand along the curve of her hip, thumb resting on the hipbone. "Things happen, Delia. Maybe we aren't always proud of them, but it helps make us who we are. We're all grown ups. We can deal with that, okay? Don't feel like you have to apologize to me."

"Just everyone else?" she asked, voice soft. "Just to the entire country?"

His grip tightened on her hips, almost painfully. "Never. They'll understand. The announcement's even reached the Northern Outpost. As much as they're looking for a fight, as they might hate you, it still doesn't make it your fault."

"What if I didn't fight her hard enough?" Azkadellia asked softly. "What if maybe I helped her?"

Callan sighed. "Have you been listening to the rumors, then?" He shifted position and sat up next to her. He took in her guilty expression. "Ah, Delia. I don't even understand how this magic thing goes, let alone the possession. But I for one believe you when you say you tried your hardest to get her to stop. Whatever that means. If it means you went along with some things so she'd stop hurting you, or if you did try to lock her in your head, whatever. People are complicated things. Motives aren't always clear. Of anyone, Della and I would understand. We're homicide detectives. Hate and love get so tangled up sometimes." He trailed his fingers along her face. "Sometimes they're almost the same thing."

Azkadellia's lip trembled as she nodded. "Sometimes I didn't hate her."

Della had found it curious when he had sat still for her spell. "You learned a lot from her," he observed. "You said you knew everything she did?" At her nod, he had continued. "Do you miss her, then?"

She had been too ashamed to reply yes, but he seemed to understand that anyway. He had kissed her forehead and squeezed her hands. "It happens," he murmured. "Just like your children. I understand." He wound a hand in her hair and kissed her mouth, soft and loving and with more understanding than Azkadellia thought she deserved. "You'll be all right, you know," he had said earlier that morning. "We'll be all right. You'll understand it better with time."

She hadn't been so sure then, and still wasn't sure now. All the lives she had taken fluttered in the back of her head, ghosts she had to live with. How could they understand when she didn't?

Callan wound his arms around her and held her tight. "It's all right, Delia. For the longest time it was just the two of you. Of course you didn't hate her. It was dysfunctional, but it seemed to work."

"I don't want to remember her," Azkadellia protested, pulling away from him. "But lately, it's all I think about." She ran a hand through her hair, then examined the strands tangled in her fingers. She selected one and wound it around Callan's right wrist, as if spooling thread. "All I can do is remember," she whispered.

"Remembering isn't a bad thing if you learn from it," Callan replied, watching her movements closely. "What are you doing?"

"The location spell. Unless you don't want me to?"

He smiled. "No, I do. I want to know where you are. It'll let me know when you're in trouble, right? So I can run right to your side?" His smile grew to a full grin when she nodded. "Well, go on, then. Get to it."

She began the spell, layering it over him, one hand over his heart and the other over his wrist. Callan could feel as if a weight was settling in over him, a press against his mind. As Azkadellia concentrated, he could almost see the hair around his wrist glow. After a moment, he could feel the hair tighten, pulling into his skin. It seemed to grow hot as it did so, burning as it sank down into his bones. He grit his teeth against the pain of it, not wanting to distract her.

The pain vanished as she looked up. He didn't let any discomfort show as she looked at him anxiously. "How do you feel?"

"Fine." There was a vague nagging sensation that he was forgetting something, that he was worried. Callan wanted to fix it, though he didn't know how and didn't know where to start. It only clicked when he saw Azkadellia biting her lip. He wasn't the one worried, it was Azkadellia. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "Stop worrying so much, Delia. I'm fine. I feel great. I just know what you're feeling now, too."

She relaxed in his arms. "Okay. So it worked."

"Did you really think it wouldn't?"

She smiled sheepishly. "No, but I can't help it. I don't want anything bad happening..."

"I love you, too," Callan said, kissing her. "Stop worrying. How about we take that bath now? Then you can relax a bit, I'll go see what's taking Della so long and we can head north."

Azkadellia smiled and kissed his palm. "Sounds like a good idea."

***
***

Best Kept Secret 2/6. NC-17.

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 19:49:18 GMT

Title: Best Kept Secret
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for sex and lots of f-bombs. The pr0n begins almost immediately, so be warned. :)
Pairing: Katie Bell/Marcus Flint.
Disclaimer: They're Jo's, and I'm borrowing without permission. I'll return her toys when I'm done with them.
Spoilers: Takes place after DH, minus the Epilogue of Doom. That Epilogue is dead to me.
Summary: Katie Bell has just been promoted to the first string players of Puddlemere United. Unfortunately, this also seems to be the occasion her stalker needed to up the ante.

Best Kept Secret

Katie woke slowly, languidly stretching out. She was alone in the bed, and smiled at the particularly hot dream she had been having just as she woke up. Cracking her eyes open to look at the time on her bedside clock, she froze at the sight of Marcus Flint standing at the foot of her bed, naked as the day he was born, neatly applying cleansing and ironing spells to the clothes he had been wearing to the party the night before.

She couldn't help it. She shrieked in surprise.

He looked up, and the ironing charm missed his pants and hit the corner of her bed. The wrinkled sheet instantly straightened. "Good morning."

Katie pulled the sheet up to cover her chest and made some kind of squeaking reply. Her head swam a bit; she had never gotten a hangover before and wondered if this was what it felt like. So the dream hadn't been a dream. It had been very, very real.

"No need to play it off as shy," he commented, applying the ironing charms again. "I've seen everything there is to see already."

"I'm not playing," she retorted. "I don't do this sort of thing, okay?"

"What thing?"

She flushed in embarrassment. She didn't want to sound ungrateful, because he had been fabulous and she hadn't felt this wonderful in a long time. But she didn't want him to think she was some kind of slag, either. "I don't just take random men home. Ever."

"I believe you mentioned last night I wasn't some random stranger," Marcus told her blandly. He shook out his pants and looked them over. "I'll have to transfigure them to be work appropriate, but I think these will do."

Katie couldn't believe her ears. He was acting completely blasé, as if he did this all the time. Hell, for all she knew he did, and she was simply another notch on his belt. That thought stung, and she tried to push the thought away. She really didn't know him at all.

"I was going to ask if you wanted breakfast," he continued, voice matter of fact and proper. "I gather you're not much of a morning person."

"I might be hung over. I don't know. I've never had one before."

He frowned at her. "Most people that have them know if they do." He looked at her. "What? Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I don't do this!" she cried, incredulous. "I don't know how this works!"

"You knew perfectly well last night," he remarked, voice even. His gut was starting to churn, however. Did she regret the night before? Was she planning on denying it happened or would she say something to Angelina? If that happened... He didn't even want to think about that. That possibility didn't bode well at all.

"Not sex, you idiot!" she screeched, feeling her gut twist. She was now officially a slag, wasn't she? But she simply didn't do this sort of thing. It wasn't like her to get so drunk she came on to men and took them home, no matter how fit or handsome she thought they looked. Marcus wasn't classically handsome, but there was an intensity about him that she found appealing. Merlin knew why.

Marcus shook his head as she averted her eyes when he approached. "Look at me, Katie."

Her eyes snapped to his. "What?"

"This is perfectly ridiculous. Stop covering yourself up like that." Her hands dragged the sheet down to her lap, and she squeaked in surprise. "You can look at me, you know. You had a bloody good time last night and I'm not about to feel ashamed about that. You shouldn't either."

Katie felt like crying. Something wasn't right, and it felt as if she wasn't even in control of her own body anymore. That, more than anything else, was almost terrifying. "You don't understand. This isn't like me," she nearly wailed. "I don't do this!"

"Well, you did last night," he snapped. If anyone at work found out, he'd likely be sacked on the spot.

Katie dragged the sheet back up to cover herself and bit her lip nervously. Some part of her wanted to reach out and ruffle his hair, and the thought of it made a low heat start to simmer in her groin. What the hell was wrong with her? "I know, I know." She sniffled and turned away from him, not wanting to see him standing there naked in her bedroom. There had never been a naked man in her bedroom before. What was she supposed to do with this? Stare at him? Look away? Make some kind of insipid small talk?

Marcus groaned. So much for an easy morning. "Just look at the damn cock and get it over with," he ground out. Her eyes snapped there immediately, and there was a delightful blush across her cheeks. For someone who had great gutter talk, she was skittish and shy. Oh, he knew full well that she'd only ever dated Lee Jordan and Roger Davies in school, and that for all his talk, Roger Davies had gotten nowhere with her. "Katie, what the hell is going on?"

"I don't know!" she cried, frustrated. She dragged her eyes up to meet his. "I can't even control what I'm doing!" she wailed. To her horror, she burst into tears and covered her face with the sheet.

Frowning, Marcus could only stare. He wondered if she would accept it if he sat down beside her to comfort her. "What do you mean, you can't control what you're doing?" he asked carefully.

"You say something and I'm doing it even though I don't want to!"

His frown deepened. "Stand up." She did, clearly startled that she did so. "Lie down on all fours."

Katie positioned herself on all fours the bed, facing away from Marcus. She turned her head to look at him, clearly frightened. "Stop it," she whispered. "What are you doing?"

"What the hell?" he asked, stunned. "I'm not doing a damned thing!"

After a moment, Katie was able to collapse down to her stomach. She sat on her bed, drawing her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her arms tightly around them and looked at him as if about to cry. "I didn't want to do that but I couldn't stop it. Why would that happen?"

A dozen different curses and spells flew through his mind. There were at least twenty different potions that could do such a thing.

I'm not like this, she had said. It was more than just confusion and alcohol.

"Get dressed," he snapped, tugging on his boxers. He quickly transfigured his dress robes from the night before into a serviceable suit. Katie was woodenly getting dressed in denims and a loose T shirt, a look of fear on her face. Marcus sighed. He hadn't been thinking when he had started ordering her about.

This didn't bode well. This didn't bode well at all.

Marcus ran a hand through his hair. The last thing she needed was to be afraid of him, and he had snapped at her without thinking. "Katie?" He stopped what he was doing and closed his hands over hers. He took care to speak slowly and carefully, and to not use any expletives. "I'm not angry with you, okay? I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing to me for?" she mumbled, not quite looking up.

"I'm sorry I yelled. I didn't think." He pulled a face at her. "I don't know what this is yet, but I'm going to figure it out. I promise."

Katie looked up and saw his sincere expression. She hadn't thought he was responsible, since he had seemed just as bewildered as she had been. The only difference was, because he was observing and not feeling trapped within his own body, he didn't have the same kind of fear that she did. She was a Quidditch player. She had to be in control of her body. She had to know what she was about to do. She had to be aware of what was happening. "All right." She looked at him, then, in his crisp transfigured clothes and his intent expression. "But why would you feel like you had to figure it out?"

Marcus slid an arm around her waist. "I'll explain everything once we get there."

"Where?"

"Headquarters." He did side-along apparition, not waiting for her reply.

She instantly recognized the surroundings, however. It was the apparition point just outside Auror Headquarters. "You're an Auror?" she squeaked. This had to be Angelina's agent.

"Unspeakable, actually," he corrected. He ignored her incredulous expression and led her inside, straight to Angelina Johnson's suite of offices. "Angie, we have a problem," he told her without preamble.

Angie? Katie thought, stunned. How did Marcus Flint know Angelina? And how did he get to be an Unspeakable? She had honestly thought he would have more likely been a Death Eater.

Angelina took in Katie's dazed expression as well as Marcus' intent one. "How bad is it, then?"

"He was there last night and got close to her." Angelina looked stunned and Katie made a soft choking noise. "I'm thinking there's some kind of obedience spell or potion."

"What are you talking about?"

Marcus looked at Katie. "Stand on one foot." Startled, Katie did so. "Sit down." Without any chair around, Katie sat cross legged on the floor. "Stand up and sit on Angie's desk." She did so.

Angelina sat there for a moment, unable to think of a single thing to say. "Is it just you?"

"I don't know. It's something we just found out."

Rubbing her temple wearily, Angelina shook her head. "I'm glad you're so thorough, Marcus. If you didn't check on her this morning..." She paused. "We need to test this, though. Katie, get off my desk."

"Well, sure, I guess," Katie replied, confused. There was no imperative for her to do so, not like when Marcus told her to do something. She slid off of the desk and stood beside Marcus again.

Angelina frowned. "Do you think it's a gender thing?"

"Could very well be," Marcus mused.

Katie didn't like how they were ignoring her, and crossed her arms under her breasts. She shouldn't have felt hurt by the fact that Marcus wasn't looking at her, wasn't making any mention of why he was in her flat that morning. She didn't exactly want to advertise that they had shagged the night before, but it felt strange, like a secret she was keeping from Angelina. She wasn't sure how she felt about keeping a secret like that. But if he was the one supposed to be guarding her, shagging her would ruin him.

Angelina went to her office door. "Harry? Ron? C'mere for a minute? I've a favor." She waited until they got into her office, wondering why Katie and Marcus were there. "Tell Katie to do something, either of you."

Harry scratched his head for a moment. "Give Flint a shove," he said.

Katie pulled a face. "Do I have to?" she asked. Her hand rose a bit, but then she put it back down to her side.

"Kick his shin," Ron suggested with a grin.

Katie crossed her arms again. "I really don't want to do that one."

"I'm not exactly pleased I've become your sodding punching bag," Marcus growled, glaring at Harry and Ron. They merely grinned at him as Angelina shoved them out of her office.

"I think that settles it, don't you?" Angelina said, concerned. "Me, no problems at all. Them, she's able to resist. You, not at all. Why you, I wonder?"

Katie and Marcus were both silent, though Katie couldn't help but stare at Marcus' hands. She remembered the way they felt when he had touched her face, when he had stroked her, when he had slid his fingers inside of her. She could feel the blush rising to her cheeks, could see Angelina stare at her pointedly. "I hit on him last night," she mumbled. There was no need to talk about the shagging, was there?

Angelina's jaw set. "So it's multiple things we're dealing with, then. An obedience and a libido potion?"

"Just a libido potion, you think?" Marcus asked, curious.

"Well, she was in the middle of a huge crowd. If it was a love potion, it wouldn't have mattered who got hit on, as long as she got shagged in the process. A libido potion would just make it more likely for her to hit on someone her type."

Katie wanted to sink through the floor. Or die. Or both. Blushing furiously, she glared at her friend. "Thanks for talking about me like I'm not even here."

Angelina at least looked abashed. "I'm sorry. I think we need to get you to our forensic potions master. We'll need blood samples, urine samples..."

"What?!"

"You've been drugged," Marcus told her bluntly. He held her gaze evenly, and Katie thought she was drowning in his eyes. "We need to have the specialist compare what's left in your system with all the known variants of potions likely to have had this effect. It's the only way to tell what's been given, and the only way to see if it will wear off or if it's permanent."

"Well, I don't immediately want to shag you on sight, so I think it wore off," Katie snapped without thinking. Once the words left her mouth, she covered her face in her hands out of embarrassment. Angelina burst out into laughter. "Shut it, Johnson. It's not funny."

"Damn straight it is!" Angelina chortled. "Oh, your face!"

"Not fucking funny," Marcus growled at Angelina. Katie shivered at the menacing undertone in his voice, and Angelina's mouth snapped shut.

"Right then," Angelina said with a nod. "Off to get you tested, Katie."

Various kinds of samples later, Katie sat in Marcus' office holding a mug of hot chocolate. Angelina had a meeting to go to with her team, and would follow up on the forensic tests. She shivered despite the chocolate and tried not to look Marcus in the eye. It was awkward, to say the least. What was she supposed to say to him?

"What?" he asked irritably. She looked up, confused. "What is it? You look like you're dying to say something."

Katie shook her head. "No. I'm just worried about this."

"That's shite. Tell me what you're really thinking."

"I don't know what to say to you now," she blurted, compelled by the order he had given. "All I can think about it how it felt and I can't even talk about it and I don't know what to say to you." Katie cringed as the words tumbled from her lips. "That wasn't fair."

Marcus smiled at her grimly. "I'm Slytherin."

Were you a Death Eater? she wanted to ask. Did you have to kill anyone in the war? But she didn't ask the questions. She sipped the hot chocolate instead. It occupied her mouth and kept her from saying something stupid. He probably already thought she was a silly bint now that it was official she wasn't a slag of her own volition.

He wondered what she was thinking, sitting there and trying to keep composed. She'd been dosed with unknown potions or spells, had shagged a near stranger and found out that said stranger was the bodyguard her friend had set upon her. And all that was before breakfast. It was enough to knock anyone flat, and she seemed to be holding up all right. He looked around his office. There were no active cases at the moment, which was why he'd been able to grant Angelina's favor request to watch over Katie.

"You know, you never did answer my question from before," he began idly. "Though I may not have actually asked it."

"What question?"

"What do you want for breakfast? My treat."

She looked at him dumbly for a moment, then waited for her brain to kick into gear again. "Um... Pancakes with lots of syrup?"

Marcus stood up and held out his hand. Katie took it without thinking. She just felt better not fighting the urges to do as he wanted her to. Fighting it led to varying degrees of headaches, nausea and restlessness. At least he was doing his best not to abuse the situation. That out of everything made her feel safe with him despite the situation. "There's a diner near here that has excellent pancakes."

Katie grinned at him for the first time that morning. "Fabulous. I'm hungry."

If he could behave himself, so could she. She could pretend that they were simply friends meeting for breakfast to discuss random things. She could pretend that she was striking conversation to stave off boredom. She was curious about him at this point; she knew what he felt like in bed and what he did for a living, but that was it. Katie knew at this point that Angelina was never letting her go anywhere without a shadow. She might as well try to get to know him better.

***

Marcus Flint was the youngest of five boys. He was somewhat indulged, able to fly when young and devote time to Quidditch. He had to take social skills lessons as all Pureblooded elite children had to, but was allowed to skive off dance lessons when he complained to his mother. She convinced him to take classical piano to play Pureblooded composers like Chopin or Mozart, which also conveniently got him off of the dancefloor. She died when he was seven, however, and everything stopped then.

So did his stories, which were a lovely background music to breakfast. Katie tried asking about his early Hogwarts days, but he simply shrugged and talked more about Quidditch than what it was like to be in Slytherin House then, or what happened to the piano playing. Katie found herself telling him about growing up an only child in Bell Manor, of playing with nanny elves or neighborhood children in the primary school she had been sent to. There hadn't been any girls about beside her, so she played Quidditch and other typically boy games. Despite her mother's insistence that she learn to be a lady, the love of Quidditch stuck while the decorum lessons didn't quite stick.

Katie couldn't convince Marcus to let her go to Puddlemere's practice session that afternoon by herself. She hadn't been too surprised by that, but figured she should lodge in protest. "I'll be fine! They have plenty of security on the pitch at all times, and they're aware of the problem."

"Uh huh. Pull the other one," he'd replied in a surly tone. "The stalker managed to sneak past security to get photos and make sketches of you at practice sessions. We'll not have that again."

"I don't need you to go with me."

His glare was withering, but Katie stuck her jaw out at him and refused to be cowed by it. "You will allow me to go with you," he said, enunciating every syllable clearly.

As the compulsion kicked in, Katie glared at him. "Fuck you."

"We did that already," he told her flatly. He slid his arm around her waist and she had to let him. "I'll apparate you. Honestly, Bell," he began in an even tone. "This is just safer."

He was so calm and controlled. He was nothing like the boy on the Quidditch pitch, knocking her aside to get at the quaffle or making snide remarks at the Gryffindor team. He was nothing of the bully he had been in school. He was someone different, someone collected and neatly pressed, sharp corners and proper behavior. If there was anything underhanded remaining in him, it didn't show anymore. At least, it didn't show where she could tell. Though maybe preying on her weaknesses counted.

He apparated them to the Puddlemere practice pitch. Katie was flabbergasted that he knew the coordinates, though she supposed that she shouldn't have been. If she was his assignment -- and it burned, that she was nothing more than a file on his desk that happened to go out of her way to shag him -- then of course he would know where she needed to be. She wondered what else he knew about her, and how he would have gotten the information. Angelina would have helped him, certainly. And maybe he could convince Alicia, Oliver or Leanne to talk to him, if he chose to reveal why he was asking for it. Katie wouldn't imagine any of her friends gossiping about her, other than making comments about how she was such a goody goody and needed to loosen up more. "There's life outside of Quidditch," Alicia would tell her, usually on her way to some dance club or to go on a date.

But for Katie, she lived and breathed Quidditch and flying. There was nothing else but that.

There was a crowd outside the locker rooms, as well as plenty of uniformed security from the pitch's management office. Katie frowned at the sight of it. No one knew she had been dosed with unknown potions the night before, and the crowd outside didn't seem to be looking for any particular player. Usually fans that showed up for practices were turned away, but had signs or gifts for their favorite player. The crowd this afternoon seemed to be trying to ogle the entrance to the locker rooms in the hallway leading to the pitch.

"Stay with me," Marcus growled at her, just low enough that no one else could hear. Katie could feel the pull to obey him without question, and it made her snake an arm around his waist. She pulled him tight, and he nodded at her in approval. She supposed that he didn't even seem to remember the obedience potion that was likely part of the cocktail she had been given the night before by her stalker, whoever he had been. There had been altogether too many strange faces at the welcoming party. It had been a security nightmare, one that she was now sorry for putting Angelina through.

They shoved through the crowd to the locker rooms. Katie was recognized by the pitch security guards, and she was obviously there with Marcus. He exuded an almost menacing air anyway, and would have been waved through simply to avoid a nasty confrontation.

"Katie!" Jacob Valentine called from the locker room entrance. He was the reserve Keeper, and waved her over from the throng that the secuity guards were trying to push back. "Over here!"

Frowning, she made her way over to him. The practice pitch had a surrounding enclosure, with buildings by its entrance. There were multiple uses for the low buildings; one was a management office, one was a security office and there were two locker room buildings. The locker rooms were connected to the pitch via the entrance hallway, where they were now standing. "What's going on?"

"Thank Merlin you're all right. I mean, when we got here and saw it..."

"Saw what?" Katie insisted. "I just got here, remember?"

Jacob looked at Marcus askance, not sure why he was still standing next to her when security had pushed back anyone who wasn't a Puddlemere player. "And this is...?"

"Marcus Flint, Jacob Valentine," she introduced abruptly. "Security detail, apparently," she snapped.

"Play nice," he intoned, and she snapped to attention. Katie leveled a glare at Marcus, but he only stared back innocently.

Fucking Slytherin.

Jacob eyed Marcus warily, but accepted Katie's explanation and Marcus' curt nod at him. "Someone got in earlier this morning. The locker room was trashed, but it was the female lockers... Yours in particular."

Katie's jaw tightened and she pushed past Jacob and the rest of the team members to get into the locker room. There were all of six female players on all three Puddlemere teams, so the female locker room wasn't nearly as crowded as the male locker room during practice. By unspoken consent, the first row of lockers closest to the door weren't used, just in case one of the men decided to poke their heads in. The ladies all used the back row and snagged lockers of their choice. None of the lockers were actually labeled on the outside, but were decorated on the outside a bit to individualize them. Katie's had floral vines and brooms painted on the front, and pictures of her with her parents, Angelina, Alicia, Oliver, the Weasley twins, Leanne and her Puddlemere friends on the inside.

It didn't surprise her that Marcus followed her into the female locker room. She went straight to the back row of lockers. Belongings were strewn around, but her locker was completely savaged. Blood was strewn around the entire area and poured onto her uniform, which had been ripped to shreds and scattered in pieces on the floor.

Katie covered her mouth in shock at the sight of it. She could feel the shivers roll down her spine. Her stalker apparently didn't like the fact that she didn't go home with him the night before. He didn't like that his plan didn't work and she didn't just fall over herself to obey his every whim. She wasn't sure if he knew about Marcus or not, but somehow she wouldn't have surprised if he did.

She felt Marcus' presence behind her before his hands settled on her shoulders. "He did this."

"Yes, he did."

His voice was so calm and collected, and Katie could feel herself shaking. She whirled around and struck at his chest with the flat of her hand. "How can you just stand there? How can you just bloody stand there and know he was in here pawing through my shite and breaking it all to pieces?! How can you be so sodding calm!"

His hands were tight on her arms, almost painfully so. "I am because I have to be." His eyes were dark, his jaw set. Katie felt chilled just looking at them; suddenly she wanted to take her words back. He was tightly wound, kept in careful control. But his eyes revealed his inner turmoil, and they were all too easy for her to drown in. "I will keep you safe. He won't touch you."

She believed it, obedience potion aside. He was too intense, too self assured and too strong a presence not to believe.

Katie pressed her face to his chest and drew in a shuddering breath. He was a calming presence, even more so once his arms settled around her. He had managed to control his impulses and was so sodding mature compared to his Hogwarts self. Katie felt like such a child, such an innocent. She wasn't any different than she had been at Hogwarts, really. The war and whatever happened since then might as well have not existed for all the change in her there had been. She had wanted to believe that she could take care of herself, that she didn't really need a complement of Aurors or special protection measures.

Now it was obvious that she had no choice, and the knowledge was painful.

***
***

Push fic: Unknown Constellations, 1/8. R.

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 17:52:37 GMT

Title: Unknown Constellations
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: Hard R for descriptions of violence and nasty language.
Pairing: Nick/Cassie implied, no action past kissing. (We all saw this movie, right? I didn't make this up!)
Disclaimer: I'm borrowing the characters from the movie Push without permission. I'm aware there are comics but haven't read them yet. Beta'd by the ever fabulous mynuet.
Spoilers: This takes place three years after the movie. But if you haven't seen the movie, you wouldn't want to read this anyway. :)
Summary: Nick was snatched up by Division, and Cassie finally Sees where he is. This sets into motion a whole chain of events she didn't See in the first place...

Unknown Constellations

By words, by voices, a lost way - ,
And here above the chimney stack
The unknown constellations sway -
And by what way shall I go back?
- Archibald MacLeish, "L'An Trentiesme De Mon Eage"

Cassie sat at the bar and looked at the bartender. The red hair was as synthetic as the green eyes, but the rest of her was real enough. She wasn't one that believed in fantastic levels of augmentation, just enough to enhance her skills. "Whiskey and rye," she told the bartender, pushing a red snapper across the counter.

The redhead smirked and took the hundred dollar bill. "Somehow I don't think it's your speed. But hey, I don't make the rules around these parts."

"Maybe you could help me," Cassie said, watching the girl pour the drink. It had to go just so, or the girl would balk. She was a Runner, and she wasn't stupid.

"Oh? What with?" she asked, eyebrow raised. "I'm just a bartender."

"Nobody's just anything in this place," Cassie told her, leaning in. She was sixteen tomorrow and she had lives to save.

"Maybe," the redhead replied, shrugging. "What's it to me?"

"More snappers. A lot more. Maybe some crackers, too," Cassie said, referring to the $10,000 bank note.

The bartender leaned over the bar. "And what's this help entail? Saving the world?" she asked, almost sneering at Cassie.

"There are people with abilities," Cassie told the bartender. "Special abilities, some of which are almost too fantastic to be real, and aren't paid for."

The bartender's gaze was hard. "You got something against cyberware?"

"It messes with what I do," Cassie told her sweetly. "You can have all the gear you like, but then I'm not worth even one snapper to certain circles."

The redhead straightened up. "Well. If you've got a job, I've got ears."

Cassie smiled. "Oh, I've got a job, all right. It's telling the story that takes a bit of time to get your brain around."

The redhead shook her head. "You're talking to a bartender, honey. I've heard all kinds of things." She stuck her hand out. "I'm Spire."

"Cassie," she said, shaking the bartender's hand. Spire wasn't that much older than her, but she had pulled enough jobs that her name had been bandied about on the street. She'd come to Hong Kong fairly recently, after something in Seattle had gone south and she was the only survivor. Bets were still out as to what it was, but triad damage was high on the list of possible problems. As far as Cassie was concerned, the rumor mill was fairly accurate.

"Stay a while," Spire told her, nodding to a quiet corner at the bar. "We close at two, and we can talk details then."

She smiled and scooted over into the dark corner. She got her pad and markers and began to draw. She liked it when things unfolded the way she Saw them, and it was happening with greater clarity more often than not. Cassie wasn't sure if she was going to approach her mother's gift, but it seemed that way more often now. If anything, this was all the more reason for her to act now, before anyone caught wind of her increasing Watcher abilities. It was best that Division still thought her a weak child pretending at being grown up.

As the alcohol worked its way through her system, the images began to form. They were clear and detailed, and she began to sketch.

***

Cassie put her pen down as there was shouting at the bar. "LEXI!" someone screeched from the back room.

Spire reached beneath the bar and dove over the bar to race to the back before Cassie could even blink. The girl was fast. Cassie couldn't even register what she had in her hand. The rest of the denizens in the bar didn't bat an eyelash. People shrieked all the time in runner's bars. It was smoky and dark for a reason.

Cassie crept down the hallway and she heard three shots fired in quick succession. She ran and stopped short at the end of the hallway. Spire was standing there, gun in hand. A large burly man and two smaller men dressed in black were all dead, shot neatly between the eyes. A small Asian girl was sobbing on the floor between the crumpled bodies. Spire knelt down in front of the girl and tucked her gun in the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back. Cassie didn't understand what she was saying, but it sounded like Japanese. The girl responded in the same language, rubbing at her eyes and then throwing her arms around Spire, calling her Lexi-san.

Cassie stepped backward, aware she was intruding. Spire looked up sharply, whipping around while still cradling the girl in her arms. Cassie blinked when she realized the gun was pointed at her. She hadn't even seen Spire do it. "I heard shots," she said, holding her hands up.

"You didn't hear anything. Just some bottles falling and breaking," Spire told her in a matter of fact tone.

Cassie nodded. "Lexi?"

"My other name," Spire said. "If you're hiring, Spire's good enough."

Cassie nodded again and started stepping backward. "I'll just go sit back down, then."

Spire nodded at her, tucking the gun away again. "You do that. I'll meet you when the bar closes in an hour."

Had it really been that long while she was drawing? She supposed it was, and waited for the next hour, sipping at whatever drink Spire sent her way. She had gone through her drawings, and they were merely clearer versions of what she had drawn before she decided to do something about it. Spire was the wild card; she wasn't from Hong Kong, so she was likely something that would confuse the local Watchers long enough to get a head start.

Spire locked up the bar and sat down across from Cassie with a bottle of beer in hand. Her gun was tucked into her jacket, and looked like a very glossy, very expensive personalized weapon. Cassie didn't know enough about guns to know what kind it was just by looking at it.

"Wild night, huh?" Cassie asked with a smile, not sure where to begin.

Spire shrugged. "It happens on occasion. Some guys think little girls are easy pickings." She took a swig from the bottle. "So, what is it you'd like to hire me on for?"

"What do you know about people with special abilities?"

"You mean all that woo-woo stuff?" Spire shrugged. "Some. I know it exists, I know cyberware fucks with it and I know that shit can kill you and you can't see it coming. I prefer to deal with what I can see, myself."

Cassie nodded. "I'm a Watcher." She pulled out her notebook as Spire digested that fact. She'd heard that serious things had happened in Seattle that nobody wanted to talk about, and it seemed that Spire didn't want to talk about it either. Cassie could appreciate that, and it had nothing to do with the task at hand anyway. "A friend of mine got taken by Division. For a while I didn't See anything, but then yesterday I started to."

"So he was unconscious for how long?" Spire asked abruptly.

"I don't know if he was unconscious. I didn't See any specifics about that."

"What what I've heard, you guys can't See anything if someone's dead or out of it."

Cassie shook her head. "If there are no plans, no decisions made, sometimes that's enough to prevent it." Spire nodded her understanding, so Cassie took a breath and opened her book. The first picture was a sloppy sketch of a green eyed figure with red hair standing over three black figures. "I drew this yesterday. I didn't know what it meant until tonight, though. Sorry, I'm not a very good artist." Cassie flipped over the page. "This is when I knew I needed help."

Spire took the book and frowned at the picture. A rough figure was lying on a hospital bed in restraints with an IV drip in its arm. Beneath the sketch was the name Nick. "Your friend?" she asked, pushing the book back at Cassie.

Cassie nodded, a lump in her throat. "That's not an ordinary hospital. It's one of Division's intensive care wards."

Blowing out a breath. "So you want me to break into Division's ICU to retrieve your friend?"

Cassie flipped over the page. Nick was still in the hospital bed, but this time a rough figure with messy red hair and green x's for eyes was lying on the floor with a large red splotch over the chest. "Not a good idea."

Spire sighed and leaned back. "Never mind, I was interrupting. You continue."

"You're taking this awfully well."

"Met up with Division once," Spire said tightly. "Not pleasant, to put it mildly." Cassie looked at her wonderingly. "Before I got here, I had a friend of the woo-woo variety. He could just do things. I think they classified it as a Mimic." Cassie nodded and remained silent. "A lot of people died and he never got out." Spire folded her hands and looked at Cassie. "Let's just say I don't mind sticking it to Division much."

"I'd hoped that was the case." Cassie flipped over the picture. It looked like a tea shop in Hong Kong, though Cassie's sketch made it a little difficult to tell. "This is Auntie Wu's."

"I'd wondered," Spire told her dryly. "It's missing her good luck banner."

That was good that Spire recognized the place. Auntie Wu was technically one of those old fashioned Chinese apothecaries. She was also a pretty decent sniffer, and one of the few willing to work with outsiders after Emily Hu had abruptly left Hong Kong three years ago. While there had been no obvious backlash from Division, Emily Hu had prized her ability to be impartial. Cassie wasn't sure she knew where she had gone to, and it wasn't important. The gulf in services meant that Auntie Wu received all sniffing requests, and could afford to pick and choose which job she took.

Cassie flipped over the next picture and watched Spire's face. The picture was of a large woman, presumably Auntie Wu herself, holding a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. Spire was sitting in front of her, back facing them. Someone was sitting beside her, though the back of this person was also facing them. "Who's that?" she asked, pointing to the figure seated next to them.

"I don't know."

Spire frowned at it and pushed the picture back. "I haven't done a group job in a while." Not since Seattle.

"I don't think I recruit this person," Cassie told Spire. She flipped the page and there was Auntie Wu with X's for eyes. "I don't think I get a chance to talk to Auntie Wu at all."

Spire took the book back and looked at that picture, then at the one before. There was no indication of time passing or how they moved from one photo to the next. "The drawing really sucks," she said, pushing the book back. "How long between the two pictures?"

"Ten minutes," Cassie told her, shrugging. "I can't help it. I'm a Watcher that can't draw."

"Go on, then. You still haven't got to the job yet, and I'm seeing a whole lot of negative so far."

Cassie flipped over the picture. There was Spire's head and the darker head facing away from them and toward Cassie. That blur was neatly labeled "me," and Spire flicked a glance at Cassie. They looked to be in this very same bar, a box in between them. "I don't know what's in the box, and I don't know who this is," she said, hitting the dark head. "I think it's a man, but I'm not sure." She flipped the page again and it was a picture of Tokyo. "But I think we wind up looking here for Nick."

"So why the head trip? Why show me all this?"

"Because I don't think we have a lot of time, and I'm not good with plans like this." Not to mention, the less she planned, the less likely another Watcher would pick her up. Spire was too new to be on the radar as a player in Hong Kong. She was good, but a stranger to the place. She wasn't worth considering as far as the older triad houses were concerned.

"You don't happen to know where in Tokyo, do you?" Spire looked at the book and flipped through the next few pages as Cassie shook her head. She froze at the next drawing and looked up sharply. "Do you always know what you're drawing?"

"No. The alcohol makes the Seeing sharper, but it also makes it harder for me to understand sometimes."

Spire frowned and looked at the drawings again. "Come back tomorrow with five thousand Hong Kong dollars. I'll make arrangements. I know why we go see Auntie Wu."

Cassie smiled and took her book back. The drawings hadn't made sense to her at the time, but apparently they hadn't been for her. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Spire told her, shaking her head. "You have no idea what it's going to take to get your friend out of that holding site and keep him out. That five thousand is just a down payment. You're paying all the expenses. I'll let you know how much more I'll need as we go, but I can tell you right now it's not going to be cheap."

Cassie shrugged, trying to keep her hope in check. As long as Nick got out of there in one piece, it was worth it. "Money is no object. We'll get it somehow. We just need Nick out of there."

***
***

Rayne Challenge Entry

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 14:38:05 GMT

Title: Scent of the Ocean
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Joss is boss. I just enjoy playing with his toys.
Rating:
Warnings: Post-BDM.
Summary: Jayne had never been much into book learning. He was a hands-on, practical kind of man. He learned by doing, he remembered by being.
Author's Note: Written for the Fall Challenge at rayne_shippers. I received prompt #26 - Aroma.

Scent of the Ocean

Jayne had never been much into book learning. Letters were backward or sideways, and they didn't reveal anything he didn't already know. He knew that he was oldest of seven, his mother was getting older and more tired, and his father would need help at the docks. The teachers tried their best, but anything out of a book just didn't make sense to him. He was a hands-on, practical kind of man. He learned by doing, he remembered by being. So it really wasn't any surprise when he went to the docks with his father, when he took up a gun and learned how to shoot. Jayne could still remember the scent of the gun oil, the weight of the parts in his hands and the report of the gun. The recoil had been easy enough to compensate for, but he hadn't been expecting the noise. He found that most things were difficult for him to remember, especially anything with letters or numbers. But the scent of things he remembered well. He could remember the scent of his father's aftershave mixed with sweat and hemp. He remembered the scent of fresh baked bread. He remembered the scent of fresh earth from the graves he helped his father dig for his sisters. He remembered the smell of blood from his first kill, the smell of money right after as he got paid for being a merc.

Some people had visual memory. He had olfactory memory.

It was probably silly, but he could almost smell fear. It was this bitter, metallic tang in the air, an almost cloying sensation that tried to dull his senses. Usually he would focus on that scent, follow it back to the source, and take care of it. Knocking out the most fearful one was easy, and it eliminated that metallic scent. Sometimes that made it worse, in that everyone else on the job would instantly become afraid. But most of the time in those instances they backed away, so it wasn't as bad.

Reavers were another matter. On Miranda, surrounded by the scent of the dead and everyone's fear, the Reavers had come. They were merciless and psychotic, aggressive to everything that moved. The scent that clung to them was different, not one that Jayne really wanted to think on afterward. It wasn't even rage; he knew full well what that was like, and knew how to guard against that.

Funny how the moonbrain had been after. She had stood there, axes dripping blood, smelling of sweat and obedience. There was nothing of the rage or fear or crazy, nothing of the frightened girl she had been before declaring it was her turn. She simply was, and her scent was clean and uncomplicated for the first time.

Maybe that was why he started noticing her.

She was lithe and slim and smelled like girl. But there was something else there, something under the soap and drugs her brother still shot her up with. There was something about that was different, a perfume he couldn't quite name that he hadn't noticed about her before.

She walked about the ship with her bare feet as before. She moved like a ghost through the boat in the middle of the night. She spoke cryptically as before. She wore these shapeless sacks of dresses as before. But her scent was different, her eyes were different, and he wasn't as afraid of her as he was before. He should have been more afraid, if anything, because this little slip of a girl had taken him down and had killed dozens of Reavers all by her lonesome. How could he be assured that she wouldn't do it all over again, right? Only, she had responded to Mal's command to stand down. She would have felled as many of the Alliance as she could if he hadn't, she would have done whatever she could for them until that order came. She was a warrior, a weapon, a Reader.

Maybe that was the source of the scent. Maybe that was River growing into her other roles, becoming something other than a betrayed mei mei.

One night, Jayne thought he could smell the sea, hemp rope and his father's aftershave one evening. Brows knit in concern, he put aside the weapons magazine he had been reading and climbed up out of his bunk. There it was, the briny scent of the sea, the aroma of home he had never found since. What the gorram hell was it doing on Serenity in the middle of the night?

Following the scent to the kitchen, Jayne saw River standing over a pot on the counter. She didn't even look up as he came into the room in nothing but a tank top and boxers. "What're you doin'?" he asked, confused. The scent of the sea was strongest here, so intense he almost thought he was back home helping his father at the docks.

River looked up, eyes large and luminous. "Your thoughts are the most peaceful at this juncture," she began in a matter of fact tone. "And even then, they are most calm when there is the scent of the sea. I do not have this same sense of placidity, so I sought to replicate it."

Jayne sighed and rubbed his jaw tiredly. "Say again? Simpler?"

"The others aren't calm anymore. I try to keep my thoughts to myself, but sometimes it's difficult. They're quiet enough until they look at me, until they remember Miranda." She looked at him intently, her head cocked to the side. "Except for you. When you look at me, your thoughts are still, calm waters of a deep ocean." River gestured to the pot. "I thought this would help me."

"Oh." He leaned against the counter in front of her and took in a deep breath. It was just like the sea, just like that last day he had told the foreman where to stick it, he was heading out to the black to make more in a day than he had in a month. He'd never come back home since.

"Is it incorrect? Your frown seems to indicate that the recipe is somewhat lacking."

Jayne looked up at her from the pot. "That's what it smells like."

"So where is the difficulty?"

"There's too many memories," he told her simply. He could understand wanting peace. He could understand needing a sense of calm, especially if she was the one that damaged it. "I smell that, I think of a lot of things. It's all jumbled up, some good and some bad."

"So it isn't the aroma that calms you? It's the memories that are invoked?" Jayne nodded and gave a half shrug. "I can't seem to recall any memories that are serene enough to counter the thoughts that the others invoke in myself."

Jayne hadn't thought he would ever see River look so lost and forlorn as she did that moment. "What'cha talkin' 'bout? Your brother said things were happy enough when you were younger."

"I am not that girl any longer. I haven't any memories that are pleasant in this lifetime."

He had to have been half asleep or something. It was really the only logical explanation for what he did next.

He kissed her. On the mouth.

She looked at him afterward, mouth parted in surprise, the scent of the sea clinging to her hair. She had tasted like salt and that vague new scent that was becoming the new River scent. Her smile was slow and shy, a young woman awakening from a deep sleep. "That's a pleasant memory."

"Huh. Yeah. So." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah. That."

River smiled, a little more sure, and touched his arm. She pulled down his arm, her fingers trailing down along it until she reached his wrist. "You have many pleasant memories with the ocean."

"I reckon so," Jayne replied, guarded. "I grew up near it."

"I've been once, but I wasn't allowed to swim in it. My nanny wasn't willing to risk my parents firing her for allowing such a thing."

"Well, this is how it smells," he said, realizing it was obvious and likely something to reinforce her perception that he was stupid.

Her smile was soft and friendly; odd how he'd never known she was capable of something like that before. When she reached out for him, Jayne didn't move back in fear. She touched the back of his hand, her touch gentle. "You carry the ocean within your skin," she said, voice soft. "The memory is a ghost you carry with you." She was closer than he remembered, maybe a half step away from him. "Thank you for sharing this calm with me."

He returned the smile, almost hesitantly. "You're welcome. Just... Don't mention it or nothing, huh? It's better they think I'm an unfeeling bastard."

She danced away from him, laughing. "Most certainly, even if I don't agree with your assessment. Keep the ocean in the pot. I have determined the optimal mix of salts and essential oils to recreate the scent of the ocean at any time I wish. May you dream of fonder times."

He stared after her, wondering what just happened. She had seemed almost sane, which was a scary thought.

He managed to carefully carry the pot down into his bunk and place it where he could smell it and hide it easily if someone came looking for it. River had given him the sea, and he wasn't about to share.

***
***

We'll take a holiday...

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 14:03:26 GMT

We were home for Halloween. While I had my own wankage to report at the time, Maddy was also a little crankier than usual that day, and was hard to settle to sleep. While in the airports on Sunday (Islip to Philly to Charlotte to Milwaukee), while Maddy was walking and crawling and climbing around, I soon discovered why. While she was climbing up my chest, a huge grin on her face, I saw a brand new tooth on her lower jaw had broken through. And now it's explained! Maddy is never a fussbudget for no reason, I'm just not always swift enough to catch it. Especially since she's not always drooling when teething, and at least there was no sign of ear infection this time.

Oh, and if you missed it, Maddy is now a walker at 13 months! She does 8-10 steps like a drunken sailor before squatting down or plopping down, but she's definitely proud of herself, laughing as she walks from one place to another. Crawling is still faster at this point, but she's definitely getting the hang of walking without cruising. Woot!

Maddy is a trouper. The Philly to Charlotte flight was late taking off by half an hour, so we RAN across the airport to catch the next flight in the ten minutes we had. I'm not sure if it's a smaller airport or we were really that fast or what, but we made it! And that late flight had really slow inflight service, too, because they were slow in getting me juice I could give Maddy. I was quick on the Cheerios, but she snarfed the juice we had too fast that it ran out and she was wailing for more. That was the only time she really wailed on any of the five flights to and from Wisconsin.

So. Yes. Wisconsin. It was a second visit to my prior interview so I can meet a few more ppl I haven't met the last time I was there. Turns out there's another mixed Viet doc there, and she was at Sunday's dinner. She was talking about all the Hmong shops in the area so I can get some authentic ingredients to make stuff. Which of course led Jay to point out that I rarely cook at this point. (Tho I'd like to, really!) But with everything in town ten minutes away, I may actually be able to make something. Just not with mung beans, because Jay loathes every incarnation of it that he's tried so far. :) It's a Catholic hospital system, and I met with one of the Sisters that is kind of like the ethical director, and we discussed some of the serious bits regarding my role with patients and the regulations for Catholic care. And it's not a hard line stance like the hospital I did my peds rotation in, which was a pleasant surprise. They had mentioned that at my first interview, but to have the sister candidly discuss the reality the kids face and not put a kibosh on what can and cannot be discussed is awesome. There's also end of life stuff that comes into play (suicide attempts, any consults on end of life cafe, etc) that jives well with what I think. So the serious part of the day was full of yay to know that we kinda fall in line with each other.

Then there was much with the tours. We toured the convent (beautiful artwork and history and architecture) and I discovered that my impression of very austere devotional lives isn't quite the case. They're Packers fans, and have one of their TV rooms decorated and with a big screen TV. They even do fantasy football, which blew my mind. :D We went to tour the Y and the day care centers at the Y and at one of the buildings affiliated with the hospital (that we kinda liked better), which took a lot of time so we wound up missing the zoo, which we had wanted to tour. We also met with the HR coordinator regarding some financial questions that were raised at our lunch interview, then off to dinner for a social/interview dinner at a really posh place in the area.

So, yeah. I'll be making some other ppl very unhappy this week. But Jay and I are going to really read through the contract we only skimmed before, and I'm going to sign it.

Next up, house hunting across state lines...

Posted using TxtLJ

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 22:58:38 GMT

Landed safely, but missing Jay's glasses. :(

Posted using TxtLJ

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 16:59:47 GMT

In milwaukee airport on our way home...

Posted using TxtLJ

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 20:14:51 GMT

Landed safely in wisconsin. Maddy did okay... Cried during the second flight because we didn't get her juice fast enough.

Posted using TxtLJ

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 11:32:16 GMT

Last round of flights... Here we go again...

Happy Halloween!

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 19:13:34 GMT

Yay for feeling calm now. :)

So I tried dressing Maddy up a bit for Halloween. She's Gir from Invader Zim, which was really done by getting the green Gir onesie over brown pants. Yeah, I totally do costumes well. :D

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 17:59:42 GMT

I decide to call my mom today. (I know, I know, horrible idea...) It's been probably a month or so since my last call. She trolls my Facebook page looking at my updates and of course never comments on the updates or photos. Or calls me. Heaven forbid my mother actually calls ME for a change, right?

So she asks how Maddy is doing, and I am all jazzed to tell her that she's a walker now. Of course, she goes about eight to ten steps maximum at a time, but our thirteen month old is a walker. woo!

but then she starts asking what we plan to do with our house when we move. Because it's worth half of what we paid for it, we figure we'll rent it. Of course we can't rent it for as much as we pay out in mortgage every month because the rental prices around here are much lower than our hella expensive monthly payments. While she decides to launch into lecture mode to tell me that it makes no sense to pay for someone to live in my house and we'll lose money, I tell her that I"m not discussing it with her. No less than six times. I counted, too. At one point I shout over her that we lose money every which way because our house is worth so little and I AM NOT DISCUSSING THIS WITH YOU RIGHT NOW.

After the sixth time, she says "Okay, then. Bye." And hangs up.

So pissed at her right now. I can't even tell you.

When I'm calmer, I'm posting pics of Maddy.

Posted using TxtLJ

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 13:31:32 GMT

Dressed maddy like Gir from Invader Zim for Halloween!

sheep time!

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 00:17:55 GMT

The Ultimate LiveJournal Obsession Test
Category	Your Score	Average LJer
Community Attachment	34.41% There's something special about you. Every once in awhile, one of your topics gets everyone chatting.	22.89%
MemeSheepage	15.79% Only trendy when it's sufficiently entertaining	27.5%
Original Content	53.23% Using LiveJournal to express a few strong opinions	38.08%
Psychodrama Quotient	14.46% Had a comment taken out of context once or twice	16.56%
Attention Whoring	18.18% Slothfully Seeking Susan	20.64%
Take The Ultimate LiveJournal Obsession Test and see how you match up! (By The Ferrett)

Edge of Dawn, 19/30. NC-17.

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 23:34:59 GMT

This is so far past when I planned to post this week that it's early for next week. lol.

Title: The Edge of Dawn
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: The Wizard of Oz belongs to Frank Baum originally and the modifications belong to SciFi.
Rating: NC-17 for language and lovingly rendered sex.
Pairing: DG/Cain, Azkadellia/OMCx2
Warnings: This takes place after the SciFi movie.
Summary: Smoke and mirrors, lost hope and dreams. Some realms are meant to be saved, and others are meant to be destroyed.

The Edge of Dawn

Previous chapters located here.

Ozma easily grew bored, even if her knight was attentive and agreeing with her in all the right places in her story. It was nice to have someone tell her that she was pretty, her stories were smart and she was a lovely girl. Still, it grew hollow after a time, and there was this odd kind of emptiness inside of her. As if she wasn't real, which was silly, wasn't it? She was a real girl, and even if she didn't have magic, she still had feelings and heart and mind. She had all the makings of a girl, all the knowledge of a princess that had once ruled a kingdom.

But sometimes that kind of knowledge slipped through her fingers, and everything went dim for a time. And she couldn't remember why. She should be bothered by that, by the way her own memories didn't seem to stick together properly, the way she wanted to ask DG about Dorothy even as the girl asked her about Dorothy.

The feeling slipped through her fingers again. She turned and looked at Bruce, a smile on her face. He beamed at her, extending his arm. She took it regally, every inch a princess even if she had no kingdom to rule.

"I think we should check on Dorothy."

Dorothy had ruby slippers, silver shoes, silver belt, emeralds as friends. Dorothy had a tin man and a scarecrow and a cowardly lion that learned to be brave. Dorothy had wound Tik Tok and made Jack come back to life, had made a couch and moose head a flying creature. Dorothy had traveled the entire world of Oz and still came back for her, still helped her rule. They had set down the laws of the land, the two of them.

Something happened, something her mind couldn't quite latch onto, and then again the moment passed in a blur.

"My lady," Bruce was saying, indicating the dilapidated house. "She went in there with Princess Ine'che," he said. "Do you really want to follow them in there?"

"Well, they are princesses," Ozma returned, her smile frozen in place. Something about the house seemed odd, something crawling along her spine that seemed wrong, even more so than everything else around her that slipped in and out of her focus. "They wouldn't go anywhere they shouldn't be, I don't think."

"I am charged with keeping you safe as your knight," Bruce told her solemnly.

I'm a farmer from Homespun Valley! she vaguely remembered, though the context seemed to be gone again as soon as she remembered it. Homespun Valley was gone, anyway. It had been destroyed in the war between Faerie and Wyvernkind, and all that was left was a smoldering hole in the ground. It would take thousands of years before the magical taint fled the lands and something green might grow. It would take thousands of more years before anything would definitely grow, and more years upon that before anyone could live there and farm the magic-blasted lands.

Ozma smiled at Bruce, forgetting why she had been upset a moment before. Being upset was bad for the constitution, Lurlaine said. That was why Ozma had to be careful on her travels and drink all those potions when she returned to the Dawn Sanctuary. Being upset made things horrible inside, and people have crumbled away to dust for being upset. She had always thought it was lack of magic, but Lurlaine knew best about these things.

They stepped onto the dilapidated porch, and Bruce opened the door for Ozma. She felt as though she was missing something important, more so than usual, and brushed at her face absently. It felt as though her hair had fallen into her eyes, or she had walked through a cobweb, even if nothing was there. She took in Ine'che's drawn expression and DG's frightened one. Cain was standing in the center of the room, eyes fixed on the empty fireplace, not moving or speaking with either princess.

"Is he being silly and mean?" Ozma asked, a lopsided smile on her face. She froze when DG turned to her in disbelief. "What? What did I say?"

DG looked stricken. "I can't believe you sometimes, Ozma," she said, voice harsh. It looked as though she was trying to keep herself in check, to keep from flying into a rage and pounding Ozma's face in with the fists at her sides. Ozma took an uncertain step back, bumping into Bruce's solid presence. He didn't move, however, just looked at the three princesses in the room with a curious expression.

Ozma looked from DG to Ine'che. "But I don't understand..."

"Our knight is not playing a game," Ine'che began heavily. While she didn't seem to approve of Ozma's words either, she didn't seem so ready to turn to violence. Ozma didn't know where she stood with Ine'che – wyverns ate princesses, and wyverns hated faeries, and wyverns were dangerous, though Ine'che seemed so unlike the wyverns of stories. Still, Ozma knew that Ine'che wasn't about to harm her.

"Mister Cain is just standing there all tied up in ribbons. Why don't you just cut them away so we can keep going to Auntie Lurlaine's? I'm sure we're closeby."

Both Ine'che and DG stood stock still. "What did you say?" DG asked, voice faint. Her hands unclenched. Perhaps she hadn't really meant to strike Ozma?

"He's tied up in ribbons like a present. Which is silly, really, because who would take a person as a present? And it's not a holiday. So I really don't know why he'd do such a thing. It's not your birthday, Dorothy. Is it your birthday, Ine'che?"

"No, it isn't, child," Ine'che replied, eyeing her curiously.

Ozma shrugged. "Oh, okay then. It's not mine, either. I don't think." She frowned prettily at them both. "I can't remember my birthday. I'm sure Auntie Lurlaine knows it if I asked. She always gets me presents anyway and lets me travel."

Ozma stopped talking when it was obvious that DG wasn't listening. She frowned less prettily at her, growing annoyed. DG never listened to anything important. Cain was the only one who had, and now he was playing this silly game of tie-me-up. Maybe DG wasn't in on the game, and she was worried about him. She was always worrying about something silly that she didn't need to be, but she never stopped to listen when Ozma tried to explain it to her. Ozma knew that DG was completely convinced that she knew what she was doing, even when she didn't. Still, DG wasn't being mean about it most of the time. She just didn't listen. Ozma used to be the same way, long ago, long before the first Dorothy. She could forgive DG for being young, even if Ine'che was always calling Ozma the child.

"DG..."

"I can't just leave him here, okay?" DG snapped, looking for all the worlds as if she was near tears. "I know we need to go, but I can't leave him here like this."

Ozma couldn't understand it. "But just undo the knots."

"I can't!"

"Oh. I didn't get to that lesson, did I?" Ozma sighed. "I'm so sorry, DG. I shouldn't have thought badly of you. Of course you don't know how to do it. Can you see the ribbons, though?" DG sniffled and nodded. Ine'che merely stared at them both, her expression approximating something like horror. Ozma ignored her, as she wasn't saying anything helpful and certainly wasn't teaching DG anything useful. No wonder the poor girl was confused all the time. Ozma smiled at DG gently. "Good. That's the worst part, learning how to see the ribbons properly. Sometimes they don't look like ribbons, after all."

"They look like chains that are bleeding," DG whispered hoarsely, bringing her hands up to her mouth. She looked in pain. Ozma hadn't thought that she was so affected by the apparent suffering of others, but she hadn't been paying attention. Ozma wasn't always such a good princess herself.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bruce complained, confused.

"It's magic things," Ozma declared loftily. Something shifted in the back of her mind, and it felt like a puzzle piece sliding into place. Power did strange things to people, to places, to things. It could corrupt or level entire areas in creation, or it could move the smallest grain of sand just out of sync with the rest of the universe.

Dorothy got all my magic, Ozma thought almost sadly. She didn't get all of the knowledge that should have gone with it. I wonder how she taught her daughter how to use it when I wasn't there anymore.

Ozma stepped close to Cain, eyes still wide open and unseeing. "He doesn't look quite right."

"Oh, you think so?" DG said sarcastically.

Ozma let it go. DG was in pain. She was suffering, and suffering people didn't think straight and lashed out for no reason. Even princesses could do such a thing. "I'm just trying to help," Ozma said. She seemed to be saying that a lot on their trip.

DG looked contrite, then looked away. "I don't know what to do."

"You need to listen more," Ozma chided. Suddenly her gaze was sharp, her eyes like crystal as she took in DG. My descendant as much as Dorothy's, she thought, feeling protective of the lost princess.

And then the moment passed, and she forgot what else she was about to say. "Oh, Mister Cain," she murmured, cocking her head to the side. "That does make you look like a gift, you silly, silly man. I already have a knight. I guess we should give you to DG. She needs more protecting than I do right now."

DG made a strangled noise deep in her throat, possibly upset at Ozma's pronouncement. She couldn't bring herself to care. Every princess needed a knight to protect her.

Ozma began to hum under her breath as she walked around Cain three time counterclockwise, studying the array of ribbons and knots. She could see why DG had called them chains, why she would think they were sharp and hurtful. DG didn't know how to see them as ribbons, didn't know how to read the knots.

"That song you're humming," DG said, voice faint. It was almost as if she was remembering something vaguely unpleasant. "I know that song."

"My mother sang it to me once, I think. She might've. Sometimes you remember things from before you were born, you know." Ozma looked up at DG, a sad smile on her face. "I don't remember my mother, since she died in birthing me. But I do remember her voice. I think it's always the voices that remain when you lose someone."

"But I know that song, and I never heard it anywhere but in the OZ."

"What song is that?" Ine'che asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

Ozma laughed and clapped her hands like a small child. "Two little princesses dancing in a row, spinning fast and freely on their little toes. Where the light will take you, no one ever knows, two little princesses dancing in a row, where the light will them, no one ever knows..." She laughed again, high and almost shrill. "It was my mother's song to me. It was supposed to be important. Everything she ever said was important, that's what my father told me before I went away."

DG sniffled and turned away. "My mother sang me that song before I was sent away. Before she had to lock up my memories."

Ozma moved to her side and touched her sleeve. "I'm sorry. You said they were gone, too. I forgot. I forget a lot of things. Here, let me show you how to read the ribbons, all right? I still remember how to read the ribbons and knots."

Taking DG's hand, she closed their hands over the thickest band of knots. "Here. We'll start right here, over his heart. This is where most of the knots are. And if you look closely, there's a pattern to the knots. Like when you weave on a loom. Or make a bracelet," she added, giggling. "I haven't made one of those in a long time. I can make you one out of this thread if you like! I always wanted to make a bracelet for a friend. My last friend was Dorothy, and she never did like bracelets."

Something in DG's face shifted. "Yeah. I'd like that. You can make me a friendship bracelet."

"Okay," Ozma chirped gaily. She fingered the knots over Cain's heart. "These are tight. They're really close together, so they won't slip. That's how you know it's the center of the knotwork. There are other anchor points," she added, pointing to Cain's forehead, eyes and chin. "Those aren't the main anchors, though. They'll unravel if you undo the primary knotwork and unweave the threads in there."

"Weaving magic," Ine'che said, sounding shocked.

"Well, sort of," Ozma said uncertainly, looking at the wyvern. "Why?"

"If I can unweave it," DG said, interrupting whatever Ine'che would have said, "then I can weave something else, can't I?" Her gaze never left Cain's frozen features. "I can do something else with those threads?"

"Well, these belong to somebody. I don't know if it's a good idea to weave with someone else's magic thread. It takes away pieces of them. It leaves them in pieces, some hollow thing."

All eyes swung to Ozma, shocked at her matter of fact tone. She shrugged and tugged on the thread. Cain swayed as she did so. "I don't think I should make you a bracelet out of these threads after all. They belong to somebody. This is somebody's weaving, and it would be mean to take it and steal it." She looked over at DG curiously. "You know some people eat it? They're called soul stealers. I don't know why."

DG seemed to choke on air, but shook her head. Ozma shrugged. "I didn't suppose you knew either. You didn't know about thread magic either. But here. This is the crux of the spell. You can read it, too, can't you?"

DG shook her head. "I can't, Ozma."
Ozma blinked in surprise. "Oh! I forgot that you forgot. Here, let me show you the language of knots. It's a language, did you know that? It's really, really, really old."

DG bit her lip and looked as if she was going to cry. Ozma patted her arm gently. "It's okay, DG. I know how to read it. And it's not as hard as it sounds, okay? I'll teach it to you." She beamed at the other princess. "I always wanted to be a teacher, and your ancestor Dorothy didn't have time for this kind of thing. She was too busy ruling. I guess it's a good thing you were visiting here, right? Then you have time to learn the language of knots and spells."

Ine'che touched both of their arms. "Children. The knight awaits your help."

Ozma laughed, almost like the sound of tinkling bells. "Oh, that's right. Let's start learning this, okay? It's really easy."

Ozma began picking through the knots, reading them aloud as DG looked on helplessly. It was less a language using words and more like a language involving patterns. She walked around Cain's frozen form, picking at the ribbons around him. Some of the symbols woven into the ribbons were glyphs from the ancient languages, and she poked at those symbols. "Here. This is the symbol for life, and here's one for death. They're very similar. I should sketch them out for you. It's an old, old language."

DG nodded. "Yeah. I don't know what those symbols mean."

She traced all the symbols she could find around the tightly woven heart anchor. "So it sums up as anyone who cuts the heart lines first will be able to unravel the spells. If any of the other ribbons are the first ones cut, he will die instantly." Ozma turned to DG's pale face. "So, you had better not mess up."

"Me?!" she squeaked.

"Well, of course. I don't have any magic."

DG reached out and touched the string Ozma had been pointing to. "This one?"

"Uh huh. Now you just unravel the spell, ribbon by ribbon."

"You make it sound so easy," DG muttered, shaking her head. She gently pulled on the ribbon, and it gave way easily. "Oh. There it goes."

"See? That's what happens when you start it off the right way. Now, just keep going and unravel it all. Then Mr. Cain should be back to normal and not wrapped up in pretty red ribbons anymore. Then he can be your knight."

DG muttered something under her breath, then pulled a little faster. The thread caught, and she stilled. "Are you sure I'm pulling the right one?" she asked, voice trembling. She looked up at Cain with a pained expression. He hadn't moved, hadn't seemed to be responding to any of the unraveling DG had done at that point.

"Yes. It's working out really well. Just go slowly."

With a sigh, DG began pulling again.

***

The Northern Outpost was beginning to burn.

The Longcoats had waited for months, watching the tin men of the Northern Outpost. They had gauged the trade routes, the usual manpower rotation and the likely amount of funds and goods that they had in storage. Rumor had it that the Princess Azkadellia was being held a prisoner indefinitely in the gilded prison that was the royal palace, much as she planned to do with her mother. It would certainly be a fitting punishment, if the Queen were as given to revenge and perverse punishments as Azkadellia had been.

"General," one of the Longcoats called out, not entering the lead tent just yet.

"Come in."

The Longcoat camp was a small clearing hacked out in the woods not that far away from the Northern Outpost. They could see the fires along the tower, the blackened lumps that were its men lying in the snow. It had been a camp even before the Sorceress had been overthrown, as they had tried to catch the tin men in the act as Resistance fighters. While the tin men had been much too crafty, the camp had come in handy.

"Officer Cedric Fiat reporting, General," the Longcoat declared as he enetered the lead tent. There were rips and tears in his uniform coat, the bottom hem singed. He had come straight from the attack on the Northern Outpost as commanded.

"Fiat," Zero drawled, lounging in his chair. "What's the report? Do we have the princess or not?"

"The tin men fought us harder than expected. They were also much more heavily armed than projected by the intial observations. We've killed Banker and several of the men in charge, but they still fought and refused to give us the location of the princess or her guards."

"And now the outpost is burning, and the princess is probably still inside of it," Zero said, voice still and angry. His leg fell from the arm of the chair to the floor. "Do you have any idea—?"

"It was searched thoroughly by our men, and there were no signs of the princess," Fiat said quickly. Interrupting Zero would likely earn him a much less harsh sentence than accidentally killing the princess.

Zero smiled thinly, leaning back in his chair. He waved at Fiat negligently. "Go on."

"One of the guest suites did show signs of having been used, but the princess herself was nowhere to be found. She had already been moved from the outpost by the time our men got to its walls."

"Is our mole a double agent?" Zero asked, face set angrily. He had been so close. After months of waiting for an opportunity to try and get the Sorceress back, she had simply shown up practically on his doorstep. To have her slip through his fingers was galling.

"Not likely," Fiat replied, shaking his head. "If he was, he's dead now anyway. He did tell us that she had arrived at the outpost this afternoon but had only two guards with her. They could just as easily used this to throw us off."

Zero had heard of the princess having only two guards as opposed to a full complement. It was likely that the Queen assumed she was harmless now that the Sorceress had been defeated. Zero had seen the Sorceress during his rise to power among the Longcoats, and he had seen her at her cruelest as well as her most vulnerable. Even so, she had never once been completely helpless. She was adept at using people's perceptions of her to her advantage. She had been the Sorceress, exuding power with a simple glance.

The only thing remotely in the area was the Winter Palace.

Zero stood, nodding at Fiat. "Dismissed." Fiat nodded and backed out of the tent.

He remembered how she looked the last time he had seen her, and it had been motivation enough for his escape from prison. He didn't intend on letting Cain know his whereabouts and carry through on any threats. Zero intended on finding Azkadellia and getting her settled back on the throne where she belonged. The Queen had no idea how to rule her kingdom anymore, and had been too weak and ineffective ruler before Azkadellia had taken it from her. The right to rule should have been determined by talent, not heredity. Luckily, Azkadellia was more than able to rule the OZ, and Zero knew he was more than able to carry out her commands and fulfill her every need. He knew what true power looked like, and had every intention on remaining by her side when she ascended to power again.

And if she was suitably grateful, all the better. The princess was a beautiful woman, and Zero had spent too much time imagining how her gratitude might be expressed.

Nights were cold and lonely in the north, and every ruler needed a consort.

The Winter Palace was out of the way, with no guards and no stable trail. The two guards sent with her were likely just for show as far as the Queen was concerned; they mistakenly believed Azkadellia to be weak.

Zero knew better. He knew how beautifully deadly the Sorceress could be, how fatal her punishments could be. He'd tried treading the line, to see how far he could go before her notice turned sinister. He never crossed it, never had her murderous sights set on him. Zero wanted her notice, her gaze settled on him. There were times when it almost seemed as though she looked at him in longing, when she seemed to want more than a general by her side. She would want the Longcoats working with her. They wanted her rule, they wanted her structure. There had to be laws and discipline and order. The Queen didn't know what she was doing, and the lax ruling style would lead to chaos.

Zero dismissed the rest of the advisors in his makeshift court. He wouldn't need them where he was going. It would be easy enough to eliminate two tin men, if they even survived the siege on the Northern Outpost at all.

The flames still licked the sky, and Zero smiled in the darkness.

"I'm coming for you, Sorceress," he murmured, watching the Northern Outpost burn. It didn't matter how difficult it would be to get to the Winter Palace. He would get there and he would find Azkadellia.

And soon enough, she would be Queen once more, and all would be right in the OZ.

***
***

Voice Post

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 22:35:10 GMT

Best Kept Secret, 1/6. K/M. NC-17.

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 16:20:35 GMT

I think I need a K/M icon...

Title: Best Kept Secret
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for sex and lots of f-bombs. The pr0n begins almost immediately, so be warned. :)
Pairing: Katie Bell/Marcus Flint.
Disclaimer: They're Jo's, and I'm borrowing without permission. I'll return her toys when I'm done with them.
Spoilers: Takes place after DH, minus the Epilogue of Doom. That Epilogue is dead to me.
Summary: Katie Bell has just been promoted to the first string players of Puddlemere United. Unfortunately, this also seems to be the occasion her stalker needed to up the ante.

Best Kept Secret

"I absolutely positively do not need an escort or some kind of security detail!"

Angelina Johnson shrugged at her friend Katie Bell. This was an old argument by now, one that Katie never seemed to realize she had lost before she even opened her mouth. Angelina was an Auror and a damned good one. She had risen through the ranks during the war despite her open affiliation with known resistors simply because she had given the regime no reason to fault her performance. Now she headed an entire complement of Aurors, two of which were Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. They had both elected to start their training from scratch, which she approved of, and she had snapped them up as soon as they were done with the Academy. They made an excellent, if high profile, addition to her team.

Katie had gone to Puddlemere United's reserve team right out of school. She had flown her heart out, hoping to prove herself. She had missed nearly half of her seventh year, but flying came naturally to her. Obsessed with all things Quidditch, she had easily won a spot on the reserve team. During the war, she had done what she could to help out her friends, and had barely escaped detection herself. Somewhere along the way, however, she had picked up a following. Most fans didn't know any of the reserve or second string players. Some of the particularly fanatical Quidditch fans did, and would root for their favorite players to move up through the ranks.

Katie had somehow come to the attention of a particularly devoted fanbase. Of that fanbase, someone had started to stalk her.

And now she was being promoted from second string to first. Tonight was the grand party to celebrate that fact.

Angelina crossed her arms. "And what kind of friend would I be if I let you go in unprotected, given this lunatic following you around?"

"Nothing's happened! Just creepy letters and sketches."

"Sketches of you at practice, where fans aren't supposed to be. Or photos, even." Angelina stared her down. After a long moment, Katie at least flushed. Angelina was right, of course. Her safety was being compromised. "How about a compromise? I get an agent in that will be as unobtrusive as possible. You can go around pretending you don't have a stalker and I'll feel like you're protected enough."

Katie nodded glumly. "You would do it even if I hadn't agreed."

"Of course! Just like I did for Ali's bash when she got to first string for the Harpies." Angelina grinned, unrepentant. "The least I can do. Don't worry, I will have everything taken care of."

Katie grumbled and stood up. "I suppose that's it, then."

"Don't look so sad. It's going to be a great party. You'll see."

It was, actually. Puddlemere knew how to do a party right. It was an open party, as all of these celebrations were. All of the team members were in attendance, as were any significant others. The other teams in the league were in attendance, and the doors were thrown wide open to fans and friends alike. It was a happy occasion to get players into positions on the team, and it made the Quidditch community a tight knit one. Katie had done up her long brown hair into a French twist with glittering green crystal pins and wore her favorite little black dress over her skimpy knicker set that Alicia had convinced her to buy when she first left Hogwarts. She was wearing green crystal jewelry that brought out the green of her eyes, and black stiletto heels. It was easily the most sexy and feminine outfit she had ever worn in her life. Usually she dressed down, liking casual and almost boyish clothes. For this kind of party, however, fancy dress was the only option.

The alcohol flowed freely, and Katie enjoyed having the chance to chat with her friends off of the pitch. She was usually training so hard that her weekends and evenings were all tied up with practice. Even her family joked that she had married her broom the day she signed to Puddlemere. Still, she enjoyed it. None of the practices felt like work. She honestly loved flying, loved the game, and loved being on the team. If her stalker would simply disappear, her life would be absolutely charmed.

She and Alicia were sitting together with a few fans in attendance. They were trading reserve team stories for the fans' amusement, as well as trying to catch up. "And then, there was the ground rushing up. All I could think was 'Oh shite!' and pull up hard. Just nicked the tail of my broom," Katie said, laughing. She drank the last of the fruity mixed drink in her hand and put the empty glass down on a table. Someone pressed a drink into her hand that looked like that last fruity mixed drink. "Thanks, love," she said with a smile. "And d'you know, Wood had the gall to think I did it all on purpose? As if I'd ever hurt my broom that way."

Alicia snorted as some of the fans tittered. "That's how you know we're Quidditch players. Always thinking of what's between our legs."

One of the fans had been drinking from his glass and sputtered, spewing his drink onto the low table between their group. The others laughed at him as well as at Alicia's innuendo. Katie chinked glasses with Alicia and drank deeply from her glass. She'd never been much of a mixed drink kind of girl before; pints of beer were good enough to have on a night out with friends. But this was a party, and someone had pressed the first drink into her hands, and it had been all downhill from there.

It was warm in the room, she decided after a time. Though her dress was skimpy and clung to her like a second skin, she felt as if she needed to peel off some layers. She gave Alicia a playful wave and declared it was time to make further rounds to socialize. Alicia waved her off, blonde curls bobbing from the motion. "Go on, I'll have more of a chance to see you during games now."

Katie laughed and wandered through the crowds. It was stuffy at the party, possibly from the sheer crush of people. She headed toward a back hallway. The loo was locked, so she continued down to the end of the hallway. That door was unlocked, and turned out to be an office in the catering hall. She couldn't tell whose it was, but guessed that it wasn't the manager's office. That was likely to be much larger and more richly decorated than this one. She moved over to the window and pressed her cheek against the glass. It was cool, and helped to settle her overheated feeling a bit.

Marcus Flint had watched Katie all evening. When she detached herself from her little group, he followed her at a discreet distance. No one else was at the moment. He knew that she couldn't use the loo because Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley were in there, acting for all the world as if they didn't have a perfectly good townhouse in London that they had bought when they got engaged. Marcus watched Katie enter the last room at the end of the short hallway, and followed her in.

Katie turned as Marcus entered the room. Her lips parted and she smiled. "Too stuffy at the party?" she asked.

"Something like that," he hedged.

"It's cool in here," she continued, shrugging. "Unless you work here and I'm in your office?"

"You don't recognize me, Bell?"

Katie blinked and cocked her head to the side. It had been years, and his features weren't so awkward as they had initially seemed at school. "You're Flint. From Quidditch," she added almost unnecessarily. "I didn't recognize you."

Marcus' eyes raked over her lithe form. "I almost didn't recognize you, either."

She laughed, a slight flush to her cheeks. She walked over to him from the window, smiling. "What have you been doing for yourself? I've been doing Quidditch," she added, very unnecessarily.

"That I knew," he said gravely. "The party's in your honor, after all."

"You turned out much more handsome than I thought," Katie blurted. She clapped her hands over her mouth as she laughed, embarassed. She must have had more fruity drinks than she thought she had. She felt delightfully tipsy, and he didn't seem offended at all. That was good. She tended to run off the mouth on a good day, let alone when drunk.

"Thank you. I think," he said, crossing his arms. "You've done well for yourself after school, Bell."

"I think I did," she said with a smile. Marcus was a full head taller than she was in her heels, and he had broad shoulders and a strongly built frame. He had dark eyes and hair and was wearing immaculately cut dress robes. She touched a lapel almost playfully. "You did, too, didn't you?" While she didn't often dress to high fashion, she could recognize the material for the high end fabric that it was.

"I didn't do so badly," he admitted, uncrossing his arms. He seemed to be watching her every move, not sure what she was about to do next.

That was okay. She didn't know either. She was just running with it.

"And modest, too. I don't remember you doing that at school. I seem to remember a particularly foul mouthed Slytherin who looked like he got his jollies knocking girls off of brooms."

"That was Quidditch," Marcus told her archly. "That has nothing to do with anything."

Katie laughed. "Just so. Too many people don't think so." She realized that she was still rubbing the lapel of his dress jacket, but he didn't seem to mind it. "I'm still Chaser."

"I noticed," Marcus murmured. "How drunk are you?"

She laughed and shook her head. "I'm just happy. Here I am, greatest job in the world, and having a party to celebrate it."

"Then why aren't you back at the party?"

"It's quiet in here. And cooler. I seem to be very warm." She leaned up against him, a slow smile on her face. "I wonder why."

She was practically purring, and Marcus let his hands slide down her bare arms. "I wonder," he parrotted.

Katie rose to her tip toes and pressed a kiss against Marcus' mouth. It was like fire, and the slow burn beneath her skin became a full on blaze. She wound her hands through his hair as she opened her mouth over his. He followed suit, and she slid her tongue into his mouth as she pressed herself against him. The hands on her arms slid around her back, holding her steady.

When the kiss broke, Marcus could barely breathe. His blood was singing and she looked absolutely delectable. "Well, fuck me," he breathed.

"Yes, absolutely," Katie replied, then moved to attack his mouth again. He immediately opened his mouth, letting her tongue slide inside to brush against his. He palmed a breast through her dress, and the other hand slid down her back to cup her buttocks. Katie's hands were undoing his trousers as best as she could, and she was nearly panting with need. The fire beneath her skin had pooled between her legs, and she was walking desire. She gasped into his mouth as he dragged the edge of her skirt up, revealing the skimpy green lace panties that were already soaked through. "Marcus," she whined, pressing her face against his neck.

He helped slide her panties down her legs and shoved them into his coat pocket so they wouldn't get lost. He slid his fingers inside of her, and she made a soft mewling noise of pleasure. "Fuck, Katie, you're so wet."

She kissed him again, hands sliding beneath the waistband of his pants. "I want you," she whispered hoarsely when she broke the kiss. She bucked her hips against his hand, and he moved them inside of her, his thumb at her clit. She made a hoarse moan, throwing her head back as she clung to him for balance. It didn't take long for her to come, pulsing around his fingers and biting her lip to keep from crying out. Marcus backed her up against the wall, fingers still sliding inside of her. She was tight and wet, panting and moaning and making these keening noises that made his cock twitch and ache to be inside of her.

Marcus freed his erection after her next orgasm. He picked her up, her back pressed against the wall and kissed her. He slammed into her in one thrust, and their kiss swallowed her guttural cry of pleasure. He held her, balanced against the wall, her legs locked around his waist. Katie dug her fingers into his shoulder, her tongue in his mouth as he slid into her, out of her, then back into her again. She gasped and clutched him tighter. She tried to squeeze her legs tighter around his waist as she struggled breathe. "Harder," she panted, burying her face in the crook of his neck to muffle the next groan she made. "Merlin, yes, like that..."

Katie was tight and wet and even the pressure of her fingers on his shoulders didn't detract from that. He groaned incoherently as he pushed his entire length into her. She moaned, clutching at his shoulders and buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Merlin, Katie. Merlin, you feel so good." He groaned again, his eyes falling closed from the exquisite feel of her tight around him. He was close to coming as well. "Katie. Fuck, I'm gonna..." She trembled in his arms, fingers digging into his shoulders, breath hot and damp against his neck. She made a soft sound of pleasure, panting as she approached her own orgasm. "I can't..." he ground out, reaching between them to stroke her clit. She made a strangled cry as she came, her lips by his skin, and she pulsed around him, coaxing him to finish with her. He came with a strangled groan and sagged against her, pressing her into the wall.

She very nearly snuggled against him for a long moment, arms wound tight around his shoulders for balance. She made a contented humming noise in the back of her throat, and Marcus wanted to laugh. This had been a mistake of epic proportions, and she didn't seem to understand that.

Marcus let her down slowly, and she wobbled slightly on her feet as she pulled the dress back down. "Katie, I..." She leveled a sloppy grin at him, reaching out to give him more kisses. "You're going to be missed out there, and you don't want them coming to look for you." He shook his head at her sternly. "Go on, get out of here."

The grin died slowly, and she looked at him with a hurt expression. Without another word, she left the room.

Marcus did up his trousers and sighed. Well, if that wasn't a cock up, he didn't know what was. He followed her out to the hallway to apologize, but she wasn't there. Frowning, he went down the hall to the loo. It was empty and unlocked now.

Frowning even deeper, he pushed his way back into the throng of party goers. Even with the sheer crowds of people, he couldn't find Katie anywhere. Nearly growling in frustration, he pushed his way to Angelina's side. "Have you seen Katie?"

Angelina shook her head and took in his glower. "What's happened?"

He shook his head. "She was in a back room and I told her to get out of there."

She accepted that without the need for a story, thankfully. "Do you think she went home, then? She'd been drinking pretty heavily."

Two rum and cokes, three pints of ale, a glass of champagne with the first toast of the evening, four fruity mixed drinks, and five glasses of water mixed in between the alcoholic drinks at irregular intervals. He had been keeping track.

"I'll check there." Angelina gave him the coordinates, and ne nodded brusquely as thanks. Marcus weaved his way to the Apparition point and then Apparated to her flat.

Katie was sitting on her sofa, arms wrapped around a pillow as she was crying softly.

Thankful she was still in one piece, Marcus merely knelt in front of her after sending a quick Patronus to Angelina. "Why are you here and not at the party?"

"You told me to leave," she responded in a plaintive voice. "You hate me."

This was why he didn't like getting drunk. "I don't hate you," he said in a patient voice. "I told you to leave the room we were in. I thought you should go so that you wouldn't be found out."

"I don't care if I was."

Marcus sighed. "Yes, you would. You were there to celebrate, not shag some random stranger in a back room."

"You're not a stranger."

"I suppose I'm not, really," he admitted. She caught his hand as he started to get up. "What is it?"

"Why did you come looking for me here?"

"You weren't at the party," he told her, shrugging.

"You were worried about me?"

"Maybe."

Katie got to her feet. "I'm a big girl. You don't have to worry about me."

You're drunk, he wanted to say. You'll regret having shagged me in the morning, he almost said.

But she kissed him, her hands holding onto the lapels of his jacket, and he forgot what he was going to say.

He kissed her back, his tongue sliding into her mouth and his hands sliding down her back. "Are you sure?" he asked, brow furrowed.

"Yes," she murmured, unbuttoning his jacket and shirt. He shrugged them off and let her attack his trousers as they kissed again. It was short work to get her out of her dress, to run his fingers through her hair and send her pins flying. They stumbled to her bedroom, kissing each other ravenously along the way. Katie fell backward across the bed as soon as the back of her knees hit the edge of it, and she laughed as she shimmied into a better position on the bed.

Marcus' smile was fierce and almost possessive. "You're so fucking beautiful, Bell. Why pick me?"

Katie pulled him down on top of her. "I like the way you kiss me," she said, her voice a throaty purr. "It's amazing."

That was all he needed to hear. He crawled over her, hovering just above her splayed body. He ran his hand down along her front until his fingers found her core. She was wet and she tilted her hips toward his hand. She moaned, head thrown back as his fingers slid inside her and his thumb hit her clit. Katie moaned, writhing beneath his fingers as she reached up for him. "Marcus," she moaned, pulling him down to kiss her. "Fuck me, already!" Her body tightened, and he could feel her constrict around his fingers. She let out a groan as she came, but Marcus didn't let up. He continued to stroke her clit, fingers moving deep inside of her as he kissed her mouth. Katie made a soft mewling sound as she thrust her tongue into his mouth, her hands digging into his shoulders as she arched up against his moving hand.

When she came again, he thrust into her to the hilt. She groaned at the feel of him inside of her, the feel of his mouth over hers. She kissed him, hot and open, her tongue sliding into his mouth. Katie rocked against him, her hands keeping him firmly in place. He started to go faster and harder as her hands clutched him tighter against her. Marcus grit his teeth to keep from coming so soon, but he was caught deep inside of her and she was writhing prettily beneath him. He came with a groan and collapsed on top of her.

Katie folded her arms around him and happily settled beneath him. She hadn't come this particular time, but she was more than satisfied for the evening. It had been years since she'd shagged anyone, and that had been back at Hogwarts. She drifted off to sleep, content and tangled in Marcus' embrace.

***
***

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Thu, 29 Oct 2009 14:13:31 GMT

Internet is back... Oh, how I missed it. lol

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Thu, 29 Oct 2009 13:28:57 GMT

No internet at work! Nooooooooooo!!! :)

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Wed, 28 Oct 2009 12:41:09 GMT

Will be offline today... So busy thanks to the post-vacation patient pile up.

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 16:44:17 GMT

Just got back after a week away. Did I miss anything good? :)

after taking care of stuff that piled up in my absence (not many things, thankfully) and being on the phone with one of the recruiters, my brain has caught a serious case of numbness. so you don't get any long winded descriptions of the last two things. other to say that philly was at fault for my plane and luggage issues, and bird strikes suck. i have a lot of stuff to think about, because my gut is telling me that wisconsin >= ohio > iowa, tho i couldn't tell you why necessarily. and the recruiter of course wants me to ask questions to help me with decision making, i have a return trip to wisconsin this weekend and another recruiter wants to throw more things my way.

oh, and the minneapolis interview i canceled a while back? they can't get their money back and so they want me to show up for it. or the recruiter is hoping i'll magically give them the money i never had to pay for the tickets in the first place, never mind i never got an itinerary from them.

head, you don't get to meet the desk today. I have too much to do.

i really don't want to be a grownup today... or ever, if i can help it. :)

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Sun, 25 Oct 2009 20:00:04 GMT

We're home! Well, at the airport baggage claim waiting for our stuff. We'll be home soon!

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Sun, 25 Oct 2009 07:51:12 GMT

Awake at 2:30 to get ready for the drive to the airport. Ugh. But we'll be home soon! Ish. :)