It's a single vowel in this metallic silence

Almost Doesn't Count

marcasite — Wed, 08 Oct 2014 01:14:32 GMT

Almost Doesn't Count
Twelve, Clara, Twelve/Clara, 1875 Words, Angst, Kissing, Teen
The silence swells between them and Clara feels the echo of loss. The loss of everything that was easy and comfortable between them, it has all turned to ashes and lay scattered at their feet. She is helpless and lost, determined and strong at the same moment.

A/N: This is annnngssstt and not a fix-it fic. Let's just hope that some of this never really happens, k? Though there may be some kissing, just a bit. Thank you to liltoomuch and rowofstars for the thoughts and feedback.

I’d like to say we gave it a try,
I’d like to blame it all on life,
Maybe we just weren’t right,
But that’s a lie…that’s a lie.

Sight
It’s been months since she told him go away. Months where she watches the seasons change; spring into summer into a dreary fall. Sometimes she thinks she hears the sound of the Tardis and her heart catches but it always turns out to be nothing but her imagination. Courtney has stopped asking about the Doctor, has turned her energies into something more focused and less disruptive.

Clara is at least grateful to the Doctor for that.

By unspoken agreement, she and Danny never talk about the Doctor. She knows that Danny can feel the weight of her melancholy, a tangible compression that she carries with her. She should have understood that the Doctor may not come back, in her anger she had told him clear off and she should have remembered that he doesn’t do good-byes. That he would have taken her words that day as her good-byes, her way of leaving him.

She shudders at the thought that he may never come back.

So the days drift into weeks that fall into months. And it’s a windy day in October, as she’s rushing through the park between her flat and the school, when she sees him again. There he is, standing in front of the Tardis watching her, the weight of his stare bearing down on her. Even as she acknowledges to herself that it wouldn’t have been either her flat or the school; that it would have to be somewhere between, she drinks in the sight of him.

A small part of her didn’t ever expect to see him again and she isn’t sure what she is going to say to him, what she’s going to do. She’s not sure when they had turned into this cliché.

Sound
Her hesitation, as she approaches him, shows. “Hey.”

“Not still angry?” He tries to disarm her but his voice is too thick, her emotions too stretched.

“Doctor.”

He shrugs and she feels the tension return; how quick, how easy. She moves to stand in front of him, arms crossed. “Been gone awhile.” It’s not a question.

He starts to scratch the back of his head, gaze drifting to a point over her shoulder. “Well, I was told to go away. A long way away, if I recall correctly. So I did. Went and got some stuff at Junk, well, the Tardis needed some parts and I thought why not Junk though last time we were there Donna specifically asked me-“

She interrupts, “I didn’t mean for you to leave forever.”

His eyes are cold, “What did you mean? You told me to leave, you were angry and told me to leave.” He hesitates, at a loss but continues on, “Clara, in that moment, I knew you would make the right choice. I know, Clara. I know.”

“But you could have stayed, at least stayed there with me. I’ve always believed in you. Always. Until I didn’t anymore.”

“And that’s where we are now.”

And suddenly, she remembers how very tired she was of listening to him.

Smell
The silence swells between them and Clara feels the echo of loss. The loss of everything that was easy and comfortable between them, it has all turned to ashes and lay scattered at their feet. She is helpless and lost, determined and strong at the same moment. Taking in a deep breath, she lets the crisp air move through, the scent of leaves and fall fill her.

“Do you understand why I was so angry? Why it was this particular moment?” He’s not watching her, still looking over her shoulder. She wants to shake him, make him look at her even with eyes filled with frost. “Cause you have done some petty things in our time together, things I could have gotten upset over but haven’t. I need you to understand why it was this time.”

“I have had a lot of time to think about it, Clara. I think I do.”

“But do you really?”

“I’m not going to apologize for believing in you, for knowing that you would do what you do best.”

Clara rubs her hands over her eyes, “It wasn’t just this time, Doctor. I think it was a culmination of everything. The no touching, the coldness; half the time I wasn’t sure you if you cared. Somewhere along the way, I became your moral compass and do you know how that makes me feel?”

She watches his face harden as he presses his lips together. “Do you think, after all this time, that I didn’t care?”

“Does it matter anymore, the why? You’re here for a reason.” She feels her lower lip tremble and tells herself there is no way she is crying today. No way at all.

And the silence scares her because it screams the truth.

Touch
Because she wants to stretch this moment out longer, because she knows that this could be the very last; she takes a step forward. She tries not to flinch as he watches her warily.

“So will I see you soon?”

“Why?”

“I dunno? You just said that this wasn’t a good-bye, that you didn’t do good-byes. I assume that means I will see you again.” Her left hand twist at the rings on her right hand, watching the shadows on the Doctor’s face grow.

He closes his eyes for a second, “I just mean, I don’t know how to say good-bye.”

“So don’t. Say you’ll see me soon. Say you’ll see me later just don’t say you won’t see me again.” She knows his answer already, knows it with every single beat of her heart. She wants to tell him to stay, to take her with him, anything except leave her forever.

He runs his hand over his face before he quickly returns it to his pocket. “I thought that this would hurt less than an actual good-bye, hurt less for me. That I could tell you that I will be back on next Wednesday and we’ll go off and that everything would be fine.”

She doesn’t say anything, can feel the burn of unshed tears, tears she swore she wouldn’t cry today.

He sighs again, “I want nothing more than to travel with you on Wednesday and whatever other day I can steal you away for. But this is who I am now.” His hand waves in space between them, “And this is who you are. I think you’ve made your choice, haven’t you?”

She wants to tell him that she hasn’t, that he will always be who she turns to first but that would be a lie and they both know it. The tears fall now and she’s nodding her head. “Yeah, I just didn’t think it would be this hard.”

She closes some of the distance between them and steps up to place her hand on his face. She ignores his flinch, she’s determined. “Run, you clever boy...and remember me. And if you ever need me, for anything, anything, please find me.”

The Doctor closes his eyes and nods against her hand.

Taste
She pulls closer, feels the Doctor try and pull himself back and away from her touch. She pushes forward, tightening her grip. “If this is it, let me kiss you good-bye.”

He pulls himself free and she decides then and there she’s had enough. There was a time when even the smallest of touches meant something to both of them and she’d be damned if she would continue to offer something he didn’t want.

She turns to go. His hand reaches out and grazed her shoulder, then slide oh so-slowly down her arm. The soft material of her blouse clings to her skin as his fingers swept downward, over her bicep and forearm. His warm skin caresses her wrist for a moment before his fingers skimmed over her palm and twine with hers. A gentle pull has her turning fully to him.

He takes one step forward and closes the last gap between them. Clara scarcely has a moment to pull in a breath before his lips touches hers. A whisper of a kiss. So soft and warm and fleeting, she could have dreamed it. But then his mouth touches hers again and her eyelids flutters close. This was no dream.

The Doctor’s lips presses to hers for only a heartbeat before they simultaneously opened their mouths. His tongue slips past her teeth and sweeps over hers. His free hand cups her cheek as his body melds to hers. Their clothes, the moist skin, the heat that arcs between them does a wicked number on her insides. Her entire body moves into sensory overload. His tongue delves deeper, teasing hers, tangling with it in a sensual dance that leaves her molten and damn near singed to the core.

Her fingers skim over his side, up his rib cage. She clasps a fistful of now-limp white cotton, literally clutches at him, holding him to her. His hand, in turn, moves from her face and plows through her hair, his fingers burrowing deep in the strands.

Clara hears a whimper of need lodge in her throat. He deepens the kiss. Their bodies are pressed together tightly, yet she feels the insane desire to get closer to him. So much more so than she currently was. She wants more than this, really. The sounds and smells of the park fade into non-existence. All thoughts, save for the truly erotic ones, recedes into the far recesses of her mind. All that registers is the feel of his lips on hers, the tantalizing sweep of his tongue, the warmth and strength of his fingers as they remain entwined with hers, the heat and sensuality that engulfs her.

What should have been a friendly kiss, even a quick parting kiss, turns into something so sensuous; Clara loses all touch with reality. This is how she dreams of being kissed by him. This is the kind of passionate, erotic, fully engaging kiss that she has longed for. The Doctor delivers it with such skill, such intimacy; she wonders how she will live until their next kiss, their next touch. It is that fabulous. That… perfect.

As he gently pulls away, she knows she should bemoan the loss. Her entire being feels the connection being broken as he moves away from her. But it really hasn’t been broken. Even as he steps back, his fingers releasing hers, his hand slipping from her hair, she feels an innate bond. It was mystical, magical. Something beyond her comprehension. It was erotically powerful, yet in his kiss he layers everything he’s never spoken aloud to her.

“I don’t say good-bye, Clara." Doctor said.

“Then I will see you soon.” She turns and starts to walk towards Coal Hill.

“Or later, definitely maybe later.” He calls after her.

She smiles through her tears as she leaves the park behind her.

If I would have known that you wanted me
The way I wanted you,
Then maybe we wouldn’t be two worlds apart,
But right here in each other’s arms.

Keep Your Head Down - 2/2

marcasite — Sat, 27 Sep 2014 16:55:14 GMT

Keep Your Head Down - 2/2
Twelve, Clara, Twelve/Clara, 1670 Words, Angst, Smut, NC-17, Chapters 2/2
Because she knows this is why he would come to look for her and it breaks her a little.

See the lies first, look for the truth next.

He finds her on a Thursday, after. He won’t admit that he did it on purpose, that he learned over time to hate Wednesdays. It’s frustrating that he spends more time begging her to travel with him than he does actually traveling with her. He wants to tell her so much; that he misses her when she’s not there, that he hates this other life she leads even though he knows that she wants the two boxes of her life separate, needs that control. He doesn’t tell her that he’s spent the better part of the past few weeks ignoring her; ignoring the emptiness. He doesn’t tell her that he had hoped that she would miss him enough to leave with him, even on a Thursday. He’s mildly surprised when she does.

He doesn’t let her know any of this.

Instead, he asks her to come with him and waits for her answer. He sighs quietly when she does.

Next, see if there is truth in the lies.

She’s quiet as she studies him, the wary way he watches her and sees the cold note in his eyes. There’s a sliver of ice in his heart. Emma’s warning never seemed so true. This bothers her, a little, changes her perception of him enough that she clenches her hands tight. She doesn’t doubt that he would notice the gesture. He has.

“I see you’ve haven’t got a date tonight.” His mouth curls into a smirk.

“I see you haven’t learned any manners.” Instantly, she brushes down the urge to make another retort (why bother), and hates that in the span of two minutes he can make her feel so defensive.

So she waits, eyebrows arched. It doesn’t take long.

“There’s a thing.”

“There’s always a thing. When did a thing become a thing? Is this what we are now?” Her heart, pieces already chipped at, threatens to shatter entirely.

Because she knows this is why he would come to look for her and it breaks her a little.

Because inside his lie, there’s a truth.

She’s on a planet, time all but forgotten and the Doctor is watching her, weighing his options carefully. Another man’s hands are resting lightly on her arm and she’s leaning in, flirting with her eyes and body. The dress is too tight but it’s all part of the game (plus she knows it looks good on her).

He moves his hand to the nape of her neck and she won’t claim that she’s not affected (she misses the Doctor’s touch so is her body saying any man will do?). It’s the game; they made the mistake of being at the wrong place at the wrong time (time to get out, out, get out). She had wryly asked the Doctor how far she should let the game go and he had leveled his gaze on her, eyes burning tension. We have to do what the Game Maker tells us to do. She had flushed, with anger and embarrassment (and not without resentment).

Now, she’s tempted (oh so tempted), when she catches him out of the corner of her eyes, watching them. His hand is clenched tightly around the glass in front of him, eyes burning into hers. The corners of his mouth are turned down, and she looks away quickly. There’s a game to be played and she shouldn’t forget.

(but she might let the Game Maker kiss her once or twice, just to remind herself)

Finally, the lie is truth.

He leans over, his lips quickly claiming hers, his eyes close and she presses closer to him taking the lead, allowing their breaths to mingle. She leans closer to him, kissing him with an urgency that shakes her. Clutching at his shirt, he gently pries her fingers off, as if to say, ‘don’t wrinkle the shirt.' She thinks, ‘the hell with this,’ but then his tongue delves deeper, exploding with urgency, his mouth restless, moving over hers and drawing her closer, demanding more.

She licks his bottom lip and he groans, parting his mouth and holding her face more firmly. She touches his tongue with the tip of hers and then withdraws a fraction, teasing, getting him to lean forward, and searching for more. His tongue chases hers, playing and exploring. His kiss is not gentle; instead it’s hungry and possessive. She tastes both frustration and desire, held back with a fierce restraint. Their tongues tangled together in a heated dance so sensual her body ignited and burned.

For only a kiss it was unbelievably erotic.

He pulls back, “Clara,” he whispers, and covers her mouth again. She participates fully in the kiss, opening her mouth under his, raising her hands to rest them on his shoulders. When his tongue met hers again, she digs her nails into his shoulders and hears the soft hiss he makes. She breathes in deeply, her nose next to his cheek and absorbs herself in a heady odor of soap and him. With each beat of her heart, with each stroke of his tongue, she slides further down the bed. Because she couldn’t stay upright, his body is pressing her down, down, down…

He groans and dimly, she realizes he is affected as she is (layers to this man, she’s always known that). She should draw away, walk away while she still can, but his mouth is too delicious, stroking heat into her, his taste too heady. She drifts dreamily, drugged with sexual heat as he explores her mouth.

He withdraws the barest breath away and she sighs in disappointment, but he immediately places his lips on her jawbone and nips lightly. His voice startles her, so out of place in this context, “I think you flirted on purpose. Is this what you wanted?”

She wants to push him away, hates how easily he sees her. ‘As if everything,’ she wants to say, 'isn’t already a game of control with you.' But she doesn’t, this feels too good and she’s wanted this too long. Instead, she leans back and her breathing speeds up as his mouth moves to her ear, where he traces delicate whorls with his tongue.

(tomorrow is another reason to stay)

He lifts his head and she shivers at the heat in his eyes. Arousal had turned his face stark, his face flushed. His eyes are dark and his hand is slowly stroking her breast, his thumb slowly circling her nipple.

Lies uncovered by truth, are they still lies?

How many times has he wanted to touch her, caress her, stroke her, feeling her skin warm under his touch? He layers everything he feels for her beneath his cold indifference, beneath his faint praise. He should have known that she would be the one to see through it.

“Doctor,” she murmurs as she exhales softly, her head falling to one side.

“You’re lovely.” His voice comes out low and rough.

He still can’t get the image of another man’s hands touching her, kissing her; out of his head. It drives him crazy and his hands turn rough as he pulls her closer to him. With a low, maddened growl, he pulls her panties off and pulls her up to him. He turns away from the bed with her held in one arm and with the other he moves over to a small desk in the corner, sweeping it clear; books and papers fly to the floor as he lays her down on the surface.

He stops a moment, staring down at her figure laid out like a sacrifice. He is hard as a rock, his penis straining to be inside her. “I need you, Clara.” He mutters against her neck, not really sure what he is saying.

“Yes.”

His eyes close and his hands shake as they travel up her legs. His thumbs open her and he drops to his knees. He watches his fingers coax her arousal from her. Her back arches and she moans as he slides first one finger, then a second finger into her.

He brings his mouth to her and hears her sharp intake of breath. He kisses her deeply, exactly as if he were kissing her mouth. His tongue circles her then slides lower to plunge back into her. His thumbs opened her wider as his tongue imitates his cock. Clara’s thighs shake and she suddenly cries out and pulses against his mouth. He can feel, taste her climax. Rising swiftly, he opens his pants, pulls her towards him and thrusts into her hard. He grits his teeth to keep still as she continues to climax around him. She throws her arms up over her head and lays stretched out before him, pale and slender, impaled on his cock.

As the contractions faded away, she opens her eyes. “God,” she whispers, sounding dazed.

“Doctor,” he says harshly, staring at her face. Flexing his back muscles, he pushes with the force of his hips deeper into her. He clenches his jaw and pushes farther, opening her up even more to his possession.
“Mine,” his voice guttural.

They stare at each other, joined in every way possible, and he breaks under her gaze. He grips her hips hard enough to bruise and he begins thrusting with all the strength of his body. Hard and fast, creating a rhythm which he knew would have hurt her if she hadn’t already climaxed. He can hear her faint cries beneath him and when he feels the clench of her around him it was as if a bus had barreled into him and he pushes in her a final time. His orgasm seems to last for hours as he shakes and groans, spilling into her.

He will never be able to get enough of Clara, never be able to let her go. His breath still catches at the thought that she could have walked away from him and that he would have let her.

Lies he tells himself.

Keep Your Head Down - 1/2

marcasite — Sun, 21 Sep 2014 20:30:28 GMT

Keep Your Head Down
Clara, Twelve/Clara, 1531 Words, Angst, PG-13, Chapters 1/2
She follows him, tired as she is, because she can’t quite let them go.

truth be told i've tried my best
but somewhere along the way
i got caught up in all there was to offer
and the cost was so much more than i could bear

The heat washes over her and is oppressive as she tugs her bag higher over her shoulder, sighing silently as she steps inside her flat. Tossing her keys onto the hall table, she kicks off her shoes as she makes her way to the kitchen.

She had spent the whole day trapped in a school room without a whisper of a breeze and now that the sun was starting to set, she ventures onto the tiny back patio (she calls it a patio but it’s really nothing more than a square of cement but its hers) with a glass of wine. Even with the heat pressing against her, she enjoys the peace.

For a moment.

“There’s nothing to do in your kitchen.”

Clara turns to stare back at the Doctor, watching his lips curl into a pout.

“Haven’t you broken enough of my appliances? I still haven’t gotten a replacement toaster from you, despite your numerous promises. How long have you been here?”

“No money. You didn’t leave any.” The Doctor pushes gently at the door, forcing Clara to shift forward to allow him entrance onto the patio. He is successful at ignoring her protests and questions. He sits down next to her forcing her to budge over. “Hey!” She protests, but doesn't really push.

The Doctor ignores her protests. “Good, now that you’re home we can go have some fun. I’m bored. ” She only rolls her eyes, turning to face him. “You have a time machine. How is that even possible? Just pop ahead to when I’m free and we can be off.”

He turns and stares at her thoughtfully, “Well and good, but you’re never free. Always busy, swanning off to this and that. It’s quite annoying.” He is careful to not sit too close to her, trying to keep the annoyance out of his face and voice. They sit shoulder to shoulder, staring at the colors streaking across the sky, the silence between them quiet and heavy. She doesn’t know how to respond. Her life has gotten complicated these past few months and in truth, she feels like she is living a double life. She wants to blame him, tell him that it’s his fault for changing the dynamic of their relationship. I never said it was your mistake. Her breath still catches when she thinks too much on it.

“It really is lovely at this time of night. I feel like I never get to see this.” Clara spoke softly, cutting through the silence.

The Doctor turns to look at her, hand coming up to ghost against her hair, stopping himself before he touches it. “I like when you wear your hair down.”

Clara smiles at him, “Yeah, you notice? Half the time I am not sure you even see me.”

He raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t answer. Instead, he stands, extending his hand down to her. She reaches up and lets him help her up. But he drops her hand as quickly as he is able, brushing his against the leg of his pants. Clara pretends she doesn’t see.

She follows him, tired as she is, because she can’t quite let them go.

*

She thinks about leaving sometimes.

Actually, she thinks about leaving almost every day. Telling the Doctor that she can’t do this anymore. The double life, the secrets, and now the lies. It’s starting to become the first thing she thinks about in the morning and the very last thought she has before drifting off into oblivion at night. She knows that it might be easier to just stop, because it hurts to hold on and she knows it will hurt so much more to let go.

She doesn’t leave because he is hers and she is his. He scowls and avoids, this thinking Doctor of hers but he is still hers. She knows he pushes at her, wanting her to have another life but sometimes she thinks he sees her as the prize; the one to win by being better, faster, and smarter than all the others. His vanity is still at play and sometimes she wonders if it’s enough. Is it jealousy that has him popping into her flat more often than not or is it sheer competitiveness that drives him? What happens to her when he wins?

Time to go, time to go. It echoes in her mind, every time she sees him (which is less and less frequently) but she knows she’s stronger than that.

At least, she wants to be.

*

It rained the day they ended.

Rain so hard you could see the slant as it worked its way down from the clouds and dropped to the ground with a distinct plop and ricochet. The rain was fast, furious in its intensity and Clara thought it was simply a reflection of the day she had been having. She turns her face up to the sky through the windows of her flat, hoping that the onslaught doesn't signify anything more than what it was. Rain.

She turns to watch the Doctor pacing up and down her hallway at a dizzying pace. She places her fingers against her temple, willing the throbbing to stop. “Look at all the time we’re wasting! We could have been gone and back by now.” His voice cracks through her head like whip and Clara winces.

“I told you, I can’t.” She sighes. “Honestly, I am not feeling all that great.” He stops his endless pacing and pauses in front of her. “Are you ok?” concern evident on his face.

“No, I just said I wasn’t.”

“But it’s Wednesday.” His voice is petulant and Clara wants to smack him.

“Still not ok.”

“So you’re…not…coming?” The Doctor stares at her, dragging out the sentence.

“No, not.” Clara closes her eyes, listening to the sounds of the Tardis as it leaves.

It is weeks before the Doctor returns.

*

Sometimes Clara wonders how it came to this. The more she pulls, the more he pushes. She gives, he takes. This is what they have become. When did it become such a struggle? The simple things became so complex and she spends too much of her time wondering what he is doing, and how he is feeling. Gone is the easy flow of their relationship and she misses him even more.

She can’t begin to count all the times that she’d tried to push through his defenses, clawed away at them, only to be met with more layers. The hand that was ignored, the wary way he watched her, in case she moved too close. She kept waiting, hoping that he would see beneath all that pain that lurks. What was one more day if it meant having one more moment? She has started gathering all the moments together and clinging to them, hoping that they would change what she had become. Clara hopes that these moments would complete them if she could hold onto enough of them.

Clara thinks she can hold on just a little bit longer, stay the ebbing tide that is on its way to totally consuming her. But she’s so tired and she is sure, so sure, that this is the right time. When did she become so consumed with leaving? How can she even contemplate it? Could she even consider it?

One day you meet the Doctor. And of course, it's the best day ever. It's just the best day of your life. Because, because he's brilliant, and he's funny, and mad, and best of all, he really needs you. The trick is, don't fall in love. I do that trick quite a lot, sometimes twice a day. And once you start running, you start to forget, slowly. After a while, you just stop asking.

Don’t fall in love.

Too late.

*

It’s a Wednesday when they meet again.

She sighs when she hears the sound of the Tardis in her bedroom and moves from the kitchen to greet him. He doesn’t come out, so she pushes on the door and enters the Tardis slowly. She sees him leaning against the console and feels a rush of pleasure stream through her. She knows now that there is no way she could leave, the past few weeks had been needed but unbearable. She approaches him cautiously, wanting nothing more than to fling herself against him and welcome him back.

He looks at her, his gaze steady. “It’s Wednesday, are you free?”

“Where have you been?” She can avoid as easily.

“You’ve been busy, thought I would give you space.” He turns to look down at the console. “Or did I misunderstand?”

Her voice is quiet, full of apology. “I’m free. Where are we going?”

He won’t admit it but he missed her terribly, he hates Wednesdays almost as much as he craves them. The hours are endless and he misses having her with him. Planning was never something he was overly good at. Things were going to change.

“On a trip!”

Make Your Way To Me

marcasite — Sun, 07 Sep 2014 02:11:41 GMT

Make Your Way To Me
Clara, Twelve/Clara, Eleven/Clara, 1090 Words, Angst, PG
It's hard to pick up a relationship where it left off when you're really starting it all over again.

It's been a few years since I have written DW fic, or fic in general. I wrote this shortly after Deep Breath and have been sitting on it, unsure. Please feel free to give me any feedback to help me get my mind around these two. Thanks!

Magic versus the fantasy that is reality. She now knows that there is a difference between the two. It wasn’t an easy lesson to learn. She stares at this new old face and can count the endless end that lies between them.

It’s odd, really. She is lost and found at exactly the same time and it twists at her, pulling the chords that hold her still. The line between what she thinks she had and what’s new pushes at her and she knows that eventually she’ll have to push back.

She knows that she’s not quite ready.

The nights are the are the hardest for her; its quiet solace beckoning to her. She rarely stays on the Tardis anymore, her room missing and found as often as she was. She left so much of everything behind, memories encased in a man that is no longer hers to save. Discarded, she believes; much like everything that she once clung to. But the nights she does stay, the nights that are hers to shape; she dreams.

In her dreams, she sees a flash of green and echoes of a song that was hers to carry. His Impossible Girl. She’s back on their Tardis, chasing him about as he rattles off destinations. She can feel the whisper of ancient times, humming beneath her fingers as she brushes her hand against the console; willing her to come alive again. Come alive and carry her back to him. But it’s quiet and she’s left with bitter taste that causes her lips to curl and the heat of unshed tears to burn.

On these nights, when there is no one there to see, she can slide back to their moments. There a touch to the cheek, a kiss to the forehead and she dreams of sky carnivals and motorbike rides through London. She begged him to remember her, through all of time she begged, much like this Doctor begged her to see him. The irony doesn’t escape her but she doesn’t want to waste one single moment.

Because morning always comes too soon and she has to start all over again.

She misses the echo of his laughter the most.

If she’s still and quiet long enough, she thinks she can hear the shades of it dance its way through the halls of the Tardis, up and down the empty corridors. She closes her eyes and holds himself steady in order to keep his manic laughter near. She smiles as she clings to the memory of his laughter, wanting to hold onto it for as long as she can.

But inevitably it fades away, drifting away into mist and she’s left with nothing but the memory. Her new Doctor, this tall, quiet man doesn’t laugh, rarely smiles. She hates that she compares them, like there is a competition between the same men. She understands how bizarre that is but can’t stop herself.

And his eyes tell her that he knows.

She knows that they are waiting for something; that there will be that defining moment and she will exclaim, “ah-ha, I knew it” and they will settle back to being back. But until then, she knows that he is watching her; eyes encased in a reflection of the cold that seem to be sweeping through them both.

Watching. Always watching.

She knows; deep down inside where her broken heart has settled, that this man is her Doctor. He is her clever boy and he does remember her. She tells herself that she has to gather together those broken pieces before she loses everything, everything that means anything. She needs to face some truths about herself, needs to finally finally talk to her Doctor, before it's too late.

But it's hard to pick up a relationship where it left off when you're really starting it all over again.

His eyes follow her around the Tardis and her hand itches to touch him, brush her fingertips against his coat sleeve. She tamps down the impulse, as unsure with him as she was sure with the last. She sighs, tearing her gaze away calling herself a million different cowards. She hates the reproach in them, the way they bear the strains of hurt and apathy. Weeks in and she is still trying to understand him; wanting to have that conversation but everything is second guessed and laced with bottomless meanings.

He asked her to see him, to look into the face of a new man and see that he was indeed, standing in front of her. She thought she had, she thought she understood and even as she reached up to pull him against her, the echoes of what was missing was only amplified. She stays with him because she needs him and when she is not lying to herself, she loves him. He told her, that same day, that he was not her boyfriend and how quickly she grew defensive about her feelings for him. Harder still was absorbing the impact of his next words as they pushed against her, claiming what space was left in her chest.

Her mistake. His mistake. Their mistake.

There’s a time and a place.

There’s a time and a place to say that maybe she’s not completely lost her mind; it doesn’t come, it won’t come, and she prefers to stay away, watching him from afar. It’s curious now how he seems to seek her out, whether the motivations maintain to be appropriate or not. But.

He kisses her first.

She knows it’s a product of his sudden need for them to be fixed, but the explanation will be too long-winded and too old for them to really get into it. He seems to step around it and into something different. Maybe she lets him. Maybe she shouldn’t care as much but she does.

She stops, too long, and her hand crosses over her mouth. She presses her thumb over her lip, amused, and then turns to watch him. His gaze is steady, but nondescript. His arms shift over his chest and there’s a quick flash of amusement over his mouth, tense but there. It was never going to be fixed with words, her efforts would have been useless she knows now. For the first time, she understands that as much as he was dreading her touch, he needed her touch. She had been unconsciously withholding the very thing that could change them.

The ice that’s surrounded her heart, her whole inside, ever since that night on Trenzalore starts to melt.

[PARKS & RECREATION] More Then You'll Know

marcasite — Tue, 20 Sep 2011 19:28:21 GMT

More Than You'll Know
Ben, Ben/Leslie, 1160 Words, Angst, PG
He doesn’t allow the passage of time to diminish the emptiness, the waves of pain allow him remember that he is capable of feeling something.

Thanks to liltoomuch for reading this over. Ugh, the angst. This came out a bit...meaner than I originally thought but I hope to write fluff soon!

But every step I take that leads me away
Just circles back to your door.
Wishing I didn't love you anymore

It’s been two weeks and the edge of bitterness is still as sharp as it had been the day she walked away from him. He doesn’t want the pain to go away, instead basking in the cold anger that is simmering slowly inside. He wants the pain, wants the anger because the alternative is to let the rejection bear him down in self-pity. He doesn’t allow the passage of time to diminish the emptiness, the waves of pain allow him remember that he is capable of feeling something.

He remembers the way she avoided him the night and days after Lil’s Sebastian’s memorial. Granted, it seemed like there had been a million things going on at work in the days after the service (don’t ask him about Ron’s wife or mother or sister or whatever they were) but in the few months that they had been dating, there had been very few moments that he couldn’t catch up with Leslie. Even after Ron caught them meeting up in the office, he knew that it be easy to find a way to spend time together.

He had known something wasn’t right, but looking back he should have anticipated how bad things really were. The way she avoided his phone calls, the vague greetings at work, the missed lunches and hurried glances. He should have known.

But he didn’t. Not really.

What gets him, what really gnaws at him is, that he found out about Leslie's campaign at the exact same time everyone else did. His surprised must have been transparent on his face because she had refused to look at him. He’s hurt that she hadn’t told him privately, that she didn't think that was something he would want to share with her. It’s two clicks before it even dawns on him what she had been avoiding. He doesn't remember even leaving the room (he couldn't find it in himself to celebrate at that moment).

His gut had twisted as he wondered if this is how Leslie Knope breaks up with him. In a room full of people and without saying the words. She’s good at avoidance, he acknowledges, probably even the best. That’s the moment the bitterness starts to settle over him and he can feel the waves of anger wash over him.

He thought that he deserved better treatment than this and it was a bitter pill to swallow. So now, it had become his turn to avoid her. He rarely made his way to the Parks and Recreation office, sending notes through April to Ron. He ignored her phone calls and made it a point to delete her messages. They were all the same and he didn’t want to listen to them at all.

I’m sorry, so sorry. I just didn’t know how…what to say. This isn’t how I wanted to tell you but you understand why? Right? Well…um, please call me. I thought, maybe….I thought that we could…(sigh) I just thought that of everyone, you would understand that this is something I’ve waited for my whole life. Here it is and I how could I not…not do this.

The irony is that he really is happy for her, that he wants her to win and be successful. He knows that she is capable of so much and carries so much passion for this, she would be perfect on the city council. The irony is that he wants her to be able to have it all, a political career that she’s waited for and maybe even that love that’s eluded her. There’s the irony, happy and bitter; love and hate.

What makes him bitter, what makes him angry; is that she didn’t care enough about him to talk to him about it. They were in a relationship and it wasn’t a discussion between them at all. He wonders if they had discussed their options, if she had come to him with her dilemma would he have been willing to leave his job? Find another job, taken a different reporting position?

He knows he would have, for her. But she took that choice away from them. All by herself.

Technically, she had never gathered the courage to break up with him face to face. It was inferred at in her voice messages and the sympathetic glances he would get from Ann in the hallways. He wondered why he had invested so much of his feelings into her when to him, it was obvious that she didn’t reciprocate his feelings as deeply.

Just another lost question he has for Leslie Knope, amongst hundreds.

Two weeks and the hurt hasn’t faded, two weeks and he still cringes awkwardly at the sight of her. As the Parks Department gears up to help with the campaign, he finds that it’s become easier and easier to avoid the entire area. Avoidance provides him a small measure of relief. He just hadn’t factored in how determined Leslie Knope can be when she wants something.

Two weeks and he should have expected a confrontation sooner or later. He was hoping for later, much later. He sees the cascade of blonde hair heading towards him the hallway and he really isn’t subtle when he spins on his heels and heads back the way he came.

“Ben! Do you have a sec?” Her voice carries down the hallway.

“Yeah…just a second though.” He gestures towards Chris’s office, “I have…have a meeting with Chris.”

“Really? You just left his office, I saw you come out of there.”

His voice is cold, “Just a second, Leslie. What do you need?”

She blinks at him, startled by the firmness in his tone. She stumbles over her words, surprised by the bitterness in his tone, “Well…I…I wanted to catch up with you…”

“Regarding?”

She’s used to his awkward charm and quiet voice and this Ben is unnerving her, “I thought you and I could talk? About this, about us?”

“So…there's no us so we really don’t have anything to discuss there and since the Parks Department rolls into my area, I think it’s best we keep things at work…about work.” He’s proud of himself, proud that he’s able to keep his composure because he sees the hurt in her eyes, sees the way she looks at him pleading.

And knows, that he would go through this all again for her if she asked him to.

“Ok then. Ok.” She turns and starts to walk away. Before she goes, she turns back to him, “Ben? Do you think I can win?”

“Yes, yes I do and I think you’ll be fantastic.” He gives a smile and is rewarded by hers, a bright smile that makes the ice inside start to melt.

She throws over her shoulder as she walks away, “Don’t think this is over, Ben. I don’t give up that easily.”

And with six words, she gives him a little bit of hope. Hope that eases the burden of his pain and gives him something else to live with.

He’s not entirely sure he’s happy with that.

.end

A bitter heart steals more than you know

[CSI] Something Less Than Love

marcasite — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 17:37:59 GMT

Something Less Than Love
Sara, Sara/Grissom, 821 words, PG-13, "set series-4, angst"
She had hoped that she would feel better if he could hurt even a fraction of the amount she does now. It’s scary how disappointed she is.

Written for mingsmommy who won me at the Queensland Auction. This is just one of several stories I will write for her throughout the year.

Also, my first GSR fic in over a year. Woo Hoo.

She thinks about leaving sometimes.

Actually, she thinks about leaving almost every day. It’s starting to become the first thing she thinks about in the morning and the very last thought she has before drifting off into oblivion at night. She knows that it might be easier to just leave, there are demons here that are racing to catch up despite the stumbling blocks she places in their way. She could leave and start all over again but how much time would that really buy her?

She doesn’t leave because for the first time in her life, she has some semblance of a home and family, people she truly cares about. She acknowledges that leaving would be a sign of weakness and the perception that Grissom would win this silent struggle between them.

Time to go, time to go. It echoes in her mind, every time she sees him (which is less and less frequently) but she knows she’s stronger than that.

At least, she wants to be.

She’s tired.

More tired than she’s felt in a long time and the darkness is sliding around, casting a shadow against everything it touches. She senses it creeping closer and it stirs long dormant memories of a childhood out of control. Rage, anger and hurt bubble just beneath the surface; threatening to spill over and she’s helpless to reign it in. She presents a calm façade but sometimes the veneer crumbles and she can’t hide the anger that simmers inside her.

She’s angry a lot these days, angry at the scumbags that get away, angry at Grissom for pushing her away and angry at herself for allowing him so much pain. She really should take up something that allows her to vent out some of this rage but instead she continues to bottle up her pain and anger.

Hold on just a bit longer, hold on.

Yesterday was the same as today will be the same as tomorrow.

Every day it’s just a little bit more of the same struggle and it weighs against her; pulling her in its wake. She can see the concern in Brass’s eyes and the remorse of accusation in Grissom’s but can’t bring herself to do anything but avert her eyes and deny the questions.

She starts drinking to ease the hurt of Grissom’s rejection and somehow one became two became three. She convinces herself that she has this under control but still she chooses that last beer; that one more glass of wine. She doesn’t think she’s hurting anyone, alone in her apartment, but she knows that is exactly what makes it entirely worse.

She still hides her secrets, it’s what she’s always done. How she survives.

The moments keep coming.

She’s learning to live with rejection; learning to deal with Grissom’s withdrawal but every day she experiences another hurt, another moment that makes her catch her breath and reconsider. It’s not that she doesn’t feel that Nick deserves the promotion, she just knows that Grissom didn’t consider her at all because of their past (what past she tells herself, surely you imagined everything). Now its her eyes that burn with the weight of accusation and she inflicts this with every gaze she tosses Grissom. He sees her glares and chooses to ignore them, just as afraid; just as unwilling.

She had hoped that she would feel better if he could hurt even a fraction of the amount she does now. It’s scary how disappointed she is.

This feels like something less than love.

She wonders when her feelings for Grissom had changed. She’s loved him for most of her adult like. Craved his attention and culled satisfaction when he asked her to move to Nevada. She was so sure of herself, so sure that once she moved to Vegas he would see her as more than just a student. He had asked for her, hadn’t he?

At first, it was exactly what she wanted; friends were made and there was nothing else in the world she would have rather been doing. But the signs were there the whole time, she was just too blinded by her faith in him. He never saw her as anything more than a colleague and the harsh reality of that has finally set in.

She can only blame herself but hates him a little for giving her hope.

It’s not until she gets pulled over that she starts to understand that she has to make a decision.

She’s right back to where she started and she has a choice. Stay and fight through the pain; embrace this moment and fight for what she wants most. Stay and live a different sort of life; one filled with friends and maybe even a little laughter.

Or leave and walk away from everything she’s worked so hard for. Leave Grissom and Las Vegas behind.

She understands that it’s not really a choice at all.

[misc] collection of drabbles

marcasite — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 15:01:22 GMT

House
Secrets are Piling up
Glance at Change
Taste of Bittersweet
Myths and Lies
Can't Stand The Rain
Game On
Love Beyond Reason
Over
Down Here
Who Watches the Watchers?
Underneath the Motive

Law & Order
Trapped
Stolen
Bar None
Power in Pinstripes
Meanings
What Seems
Positive Disappointments
Enough
Goes Around
Finale

The West Wing
A Love So Deep
Make it Like it Was

[DOCTOR WHO] at the edge of darkness

marcasite — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 14:51:06 GMT

at the edge of darkness
Rose/Ten, 1975 words, R,
But even as she says the words, she knows that there are mysteries and layers that the Doctor will never share with her. He’ll smile and avoid; she needs to be ready for that.

There were times when it was so sweet and slow. He made love to her, clinging to her as if he were afraid that she would simply disappear. His kisses were intoxicating and his murmured affirmations of affection sent goose bumps over her skin. She craved these quiet moments and basked in the quiet of his unspoken words.

Sometimes he was harsh and rough; a darkness creeping over him, pushing his way in and making time start and stop in time to his thrusts. She secretly loved these dark moments; they were exhilarating and only hinted at a deeper darkness she knew existed below the surface.

Tonight, he was in one of those dark moods. She could sense it from the way he prowled through the corridors of the TARDIS and the way he had tossed his coat onto the floor as they returned from their day on Calibri. She thought that the day had been perfect, spent on that beautiful world, full of color and light. She remembers how she had laughed and called it her fairy tale world. The Doctor’s lips had tightened, but he had managed to force a smile, and she didn’t notice that as the day continued on his mood dipped slowly into a darker territory.

His advance on her had been deliberate and it sent thrills coursing through her. She made a mock retreat, taking small steps back leading them both to her room. It was so dark in her room she couldn’t see in front of her. He held her close, feeling her nervousness and glad of it. “You’re too brazen, love. You need to learn some subtlety.”

“Do I scare you? Maybe I want this.”

He was a little taken aback but recovered swiftly, moving his hands to her face. Not holding her; framing her face, but tracing the contours. So lightly it was almost as if it was air brushing against her skin.

“Tell me to stop, Rose.” He reached in and nipped at her bottom lip.

She moaned softly.

“Or tell me to keep touching you, but I’ll expect to be told where to touch you, how…and for how long.” He drew his finger along her mouth, making her breath hitch. Then his lips were touching hers, a breath separating them from an actual kiss. “Tell me, Rose. Scare me.”

Her pulse drummed so hard it thundered inside her ears, throat tightening until she could barely breathe, much less speak. She wish she could take back her words, willing him to simply take over, take the responsibility back from her, to allow her to simply sink under the wicked spell of seduction he’d started to weave.

Then she felt the air shift as he moved away. “No,” she called out, instinctively reaching for him. She’d barely brushed her hands against him when her wrists were taken hostage by his grip. “I’ll be the one doing the touching,” he said. And for the first time, she heard a thread of hoarseness in his voice.

The sense of empowerment that roared through her was swift and certain, and she wasn’t the only one being affected by this. She was starting to believe that anything could be possible. “I want you to touch me.” She did not recognize her own voice and she felt him shudder, felt the air tremble between them.

He took her hands and slid one of them behind the small of her back. “We leave these here. No touching, only your direction.” He lifted the other hand, pressing it to the wall above her head. “Or here.”

Her breath locked in her throat but she managed a small laugh, “You have a thing for my hands.” Trembling slightly, she tugged one hand free…and tucked it behind her back with the other one, surprised at how badly she’d wanted to keep it above her head.

His eyes darkened as they swept over her, “You have no idea.” He leaning in, he ran the tip of his tongue along the side of her neck.

“Fine, we’ll leave them here.” He crossed her wrists, pinning them with one hand. His grip tightened briefly, enough to let her know he wanted her to keep them that way before withdrawing his hands all together. “For now,” he added; the words barely audible above her breathing.

“Rose, you are in charge here. You control what happens next.”

“I don’t feel like I’m in control,” she said, striving to sound like she was. “You understand the seduction game better than I do.”

“This isn’t a game.” He sounded insulted.

“Isn’t it?”

The pause in the air made her uncomfortable and she reached out to fill it, “What if I say that I trust you to take things from here?”

“Then what would you have learned?”

“You’ll teach me,” she said, damning the quiver that ran through her words. The very idea of him “teaching” her the finer points of seduction was almost enough to make her climax just thinking about it.

He moved back, out of her personal space. She heard the rustle of fabric and made up her mind. “Take off your tie.”

There was a sudden stillness and she held her breath. It was immensely heady, the duality of her position here. She commanded him, and yet it was she who willingly kept her wrists pinned behind her back.

“Am I going to be undressed entirely?”

“You set the rules up.”

“That I did.” He said, softly.

She said nothing, waiting. The sound of silk moving on silk caused her breath to catch in her throat. She inhaled sharply as she felt the soft material graze her neck and could feel him draw closer. She sighed as she felt the whisper soft movement continue down the length of her torso.

He still hadn’t kissed her, barely touching her.

“I’m here,” he spoke softly. “What do you need me to do?” He moved until his lips barely touched hers. “Kiss you?” He moved slowly, his lips almost brushing against her chin. “Touch you?” He moved along the curve of her neck until he was beside her ear. “Taste you?”

Rose’s hands were on his face before she thought about the implications of breaking one of his rules. She leaned her whole body in, pulling his frame closer to hers to seal the space between them. His lips parted slightly and she used that to push her way in. She knew he was laughing at her but at this moment, nothing mattered but the taste of her Doctor.

His lips took hers, his tongue sliding within the damp, honeyed cave to engage in a sensual game of plunge and retreat. He tasted of fine brandy and hot male wanting. Their tongues tangled around together, lips closing in a gentle suction as he took her fully into his mouth. They drank each other in with greed. Her teeth sank into his lower lip and bit down carefully. A hot wave of sensation seized her between her legs and a sob caught in her throat. She wanted him to take her, take her like an animal and she wanted to open herself up to every fantasy he ever had.

Hot eyes devoured every inch of her as he pulled back. She was simply that beautiful. Her eyes remained closed and he brushed his thumb against her swollen lower lip.

“This game, Rose. How do you see it ending?” his words floated down to her.

She pulled back, slowly opening her eyes to stare up at him. She shook her head. The game, the rules; they didn’t matter anymore. She simply needed him.

“Come with me.” He led her over to the window and positioned her in front of him, tugging on her t-shirt and lifting it over her head. Hands then snaked out, unhooking her bra, dragging it down her arms roughly. He reached around and cupped her bare breasts as Rose gasped. Then he ran his hands across her waist, his mouth on her neck. Using one of his hands, he pulled her back, his erection was burning through the barrier of his slacks and her pants. Another hard thrust left her gasping.

“I want you so much.”

He reached around and swiftly tugged at her pants, dragging her lace panties down her legs, trailing his hands along after the material. She leaned her head back and moaned softly. One foot nudged her legs apart, widening her stance so she was open to him. He spoke into her ear, his teeth pulling at the lobe as his tongue darted around the sensitive shell in hot, quick licks.

“Whatever you want, whatever you need I can do to you tonight. I’ll make you beg, plead, and cry for it. And you will.”

Every part if her body was being touched, tasted; his tongue in her ear, his fingers on her breasts, his hard cock rubbing against her ass through his pants in a teasing motion that made a moan spill from her lips. A thumb stroked her with a slow, steady rhythm, and then stopped when her hips bucked upward against his hand in a plea for release. Teeth were moving against her neck and she felt him bite down gently, sucking hard, and one fingered entered her, flesh soaked by her wetness. She felt excitement within her build, and she craved an orgasm, but every time he brought her to the edge he stopped, until she was begging him in broken pleas.

She climaxed as he entered her, multiple waves of ecstasy washing over her, through her. She felt her breasts sway freely and her head arched upward as her hips rocked against him. He pumped himself inside her over and over, and she whimpered for the pleasure to stop; it was too much, but he kept going on. He slid himself almost all the way out before pounding back in, so deep she started to come again. He let himself go, exploding deep inside of her.

All that was left was the sound of harsh breathing and the heavy beating of all their hearts, drumming out a pattern of completion. He dragged her, half walking, more stumbling to the bed. Pulling the covers over her, he brushed the hair off Rose’s face and she smiled sleepily up at him.

“What was it about Calibri that upset you so much?”

He sighed softly and tugged her closer to him. “Calibri is one of those fake planets. All charm and beauty on the outside, all rotten and decaying on the inside. A long time ago, such a long time ago, I tried to make change the people and this poor planet. I tried to inflict my sense of right and wrong on them and long story short, I was sort of banished.”

Rose curled tighter to him, “ What really happened?”

“I tried to be revolutionary and ended up hurting someone I cared about. I never thought I would return but figured they might not recognize me. “He scratched at his neck, mid-thought, “Though I was not nearly as charming as I am now. The point is, I thought you would like to see such a beautiful planet, full of potential. I just didn’t realize how much it would affect me.”

“Doctor? You should know me better than that. You could have told me before we went. I wish you wouldn’t keep things from me.”

But even as she says the words, she knows that there are mysteries and layers that the Doctor will never share with her. He’ll smile and avoid; she needs to be ready for that.

Yawning lazily, she said, “Anyway, to answer your question about the game. I think I won tonight, yeah?”

She fell asleep to the sound of the Doctor’s laughter curling around her in its warmth.
He smiles at her as he starts to float away. “Still want to go to New York?”

original post

[DOCTOR WHO] go through fire and water for you

marcasite — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 14:48:47 GMT

go through fire and water for you
Rose/Ten, 979 words, NC-17,
She laughs and pulls herself closer to him, wrapping herself as closely as she can.

He loves to swim, loves that the Tardis will create a pool, a lake, a beach depending on his mood. He’s never quite sure what will be waiting when he goes through the doors, but every time he’s enchanted.

The first time he showed Rose the room, she clasped her hands in excitement; demanding that they swim in the lake right away. She had quickly left to change and he would be lying if he wasn’t a little bit excited by the prospect of Rose in a bikini.

He was to be disappointed. She had shown up in a simple black tank and carrying a handful of towels. The black suit was very nice, though.

So they tried to take time out every month, just to relax and escape, just the two of them.

Of course, until the next adventure called.

&

He propels himself through the water, using his legs to push through the soft waves. He loves the water; the heat of the summer sun conflicting with the cool rush of waves. He becomes aware of her presence along the side of his line of sight. She stands there, arms crossed with the slight edge of puzzlement crossing her face.

He waves to her, face flushed with pleasure, “Come in, it’s nice in here today. It’s too hot out to do anything but relax.”

She makes a face at him, “Doesn’t have to be so hot, yeah? Technically we could make it rain and besides, I thought we were going to New York?”

“Nah, you don’t want to go to New York now.” He waves his hand around in circles. “You’ll miss all this great weather.”

“You and the weather.” She stares at him trying to decide, pulling at her lower lip with her teeth. “All right, I have to run and change. Be back.”

“You have underwear, right?” He clasps his hands together. “Could just wear that, save time.” He tries to keep the quite note of excitement out of his voice.

She rolls her eyes and moves closer to the edge of the water. She pulls her t-shirt over her head, revealing a simple white bra. He is stunned by how something so simple, could be so sexy. After a brief hesitation, she steps out of her jeans and tosses them onto the ground. Crossing her arms over her torso, she moves to the shallow end of the pool and gingerly steps in.

He is right, she thinks. The water feels wonderful and she could spend the rest of the day here. But she can feel the undercurrent of tension between them and it’s strong enough to drown an Olympic swimmer. She floats in the middle of the pool, for all intent and purposes, naked. She longs to swim over to him and throw herself in his arms but she’s not sure how he’ll react. She hesitates and then finally decides. She turns to swim out to the deep end and brings herself face to face with him.

His hands grab her, and before she can catch her breath, his lips claim hers. As he hungrily kisses her, her head spins and she clings to him for support. He tastes of mint, and sun, and everything that is perfect in her world.

“Is there something you’d like?” he murmurs, his tongue tracing a path down her neck. She shivers at the sensation of cool and hot. “I mean other than going to New York?”

She laughs and pulls herself closer to him, wrapping herself as closely as she can, “S’nice. We can stay here and….and do this.”

He laughs before leaning to kiss her and she clutches him fiercely, pressing her breast against his bare chest. While his tongue explores the recesses of her mouth, she pulls even closer to him, wriggling, trying to get him to fill the overpowering void inside her.

He hooks a finger beneath the waistband of her underwear and starts to slide it down. “Don’t need these.” She looks at him and he feels himself break under gaze.

He slides his cock between her thighs and allows his hands to roam freely over her body. He lets out a groan that tumbles from his lips when she flexes the muscles of her thighs gently around his rigid flesh. He grasps her buttocks and pulls her closer, the water flowing between them, creating a slick tunnel.

Suddenly he is filling her, stretching her open in a slow, silken thrust. As his name slides from her lips, he drives into her. He draws her slowly upward, withdrawing almost completely, and then plunging back in a controlled stroke. She gasps aloud, a tide of liquid fire flooding her. His eyes are heavy lidded with passion as he presses against her over and over. She is drowning in a wave of pleasure, diving into an eddy of sensation. He can hear her faint cries and when he feels the clench of her around him it is as if a bus has barreled into him and he erupts in her. Arching her back to milk the sensation for as long as she can, she comes with him, a bolt of pleasure rushing through her.

Rose becomes aware of her heart hammering against her ribs and the loosening of his grip on her back. She clutches the side of the pool, the strength in her arms starting to fail. She lays her head against the cool tile of the pool and lazily kicks with her legs.

He smiles at her as he starts to float away. “Still want to go to New York?”

original post

[DOCTOR WHO] first won't be last

marcasite — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 14:45:54 GMT

first won't be last
Rose/Ten, (Rose/Nine), 979 words, R,
She had never seen him so quiet, so still. After all this time, she still could never be sure what he was thinking. His energy and enthusiasm could be sexy, but more times than not, it was exhausting.

There were times that she dreamed about how it would happen. She would lie awake at night, imagining what the texture of his leather coat would feel against her skin; how his scent would drive her mad. And how the blue of his eyes would look up close.
But nothing ever happened.

Not that she didn’t give it a go. There were plenty of flirtatious glances and casual innuendos. But he seemed completely immune to her advances, despite her best efforts.

Then things changed, everything changed and it seemed to get a bit easier for her. So what if his hand lingered in hers a little bit longer. She didn’t care that his arms seemed to tighten around her body for longer than necessary and that his eyes seem to seek out hers more often. She craved the closeness and loved his light-heartedness.

But she never imagined it would be as easy as mistletoe.

Mistletoe. Such a cliché.

His eyes were dark and seductive. They lingered on her lips and she wanted him to kiss her. More than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

“Well,” she said. She knew she could stand here all night and stare at him. “It is Christmas.”

“And that makes it easier.”

She smiled. “And we wouldn’t be taking advantage of the mistletoe?”

“You put that there on purpose.”

She had never seen him so quiet, so still. After all this time, she still could never be sure what he was thinking. His energy and enthusiasm could be sexy, but more times than not, it was exhausting.

But Rose didn’t want to change him. Okay, she did at times. But he was entirely what she fell in love with, sarcasm and all. “So Mum’s expecting us, turkey nut loaf and all, so I better go change, yeah?” she said, still grinning. It was impossible to stop, the way he was looking at her.

The Doctor nodded. “Okay, then.”

She turned to go. His hand reached out and grazed her shoulder, then slid oh so-slowly down her arm. The soft material of her tee shirt clung to her skin as his fingers swept downward, over her bicep and forearm. His warm skin caressed her wrist a moment before his fingers skimmed over her palm and twined with hers. A gentle pull had her turning fully to him.

He took one step forward and closed the gap between them. Rose scarcely had a moment to pull in a breath before his lips touched hers. A whisper of a kiss. So soft and warm and fleeting, she could have dreamed it. But then his mouth touched hers again and her eyelids fluttered closed. This was no dream. This was the most erotic moment she’d ever experienced.

The Doctor’s lips pressed to hers for only a heartbeat before they simultaneously opened their mouths. His tongue slipped past her teeth and swept over hers. His free hand cupped her cheek as his body melded to hers. Their clothes, the moist skin, the heat that arced between them did a wicked number on her insides. Her entire body went into sensory overload. His tongue delved deeper, teasing hers, tangling with it in a sensual dance that left her molten and damn near singed to the core.

Her fingers skimmed over his side, up his rib cage. She clasped a fistful of now-limp blue cotton, literally clutching at him, holding him to her. His hand, in turn, moved from her face and plowed through her hair, his fingers burrowing deep in the blonde strands.

Rose heard a whimper of need lodge in her throat. He deepened the kiss. Their bodies were pressed together, yet she felt the insane desire to get closer to him. So much more so than she currently was. She longed for their clothes to melt away, wanting desperately to press her naked breasts to his warm skin. She wanted their limbs entwined, every inch of their bodies touching each other. She longed for this. Craved it.

She wanted more than this, really. As his kiss became more impassioned with every second that passed, Rose could think of nothing else but having him inside her. She wilted under his touch, her entire body seemingly liquefying. She could feel the tremble in her legs, a slight vibration that worked its way up to the apex where her sex throbbed in wicked beats.

The sounds and smells of the Tardis faded into non-existence. All thoughts, save for the truly erotic ones, receded into the far recesses of her mind. All that registered was the feel of his lips on hers, the tantalizing sweep of his tongue, the warmth and strength of his fingers as they remained twined with hers, the heat and sensuality that engulfed her.

What should have been a friendly kiss, even a quick parting kiss, turned into something so sensuous; Rose lost all touch with reality.

This was how she’d dreamed of being kissed by him. This was the kind of passionate, erotic, fully engaging kiss that she’d longed for. He delivered it with such skill, such intimacy; she wondered how she’d live until their next kiss. It was that fabulous. That… perfect.

As he gently pulled away, she knew she should have bemoaned the loss. Her entire being felt the connection being broken as he moved away from her. But it really hadn’t been broken. Even as he stepped back, his fingers releasing hers, his hand slipping from her hair, she felt an innate bond. It was mystical, magical. Something beyond her comprehension. It was erotically powerful, yet heartwarming.

“Wow, perhaps we should leave the mistletoe up year round." His eyes hadn’t quite gain back its focus.

She reluctantly turned to leave, a smile pulling at the edge of her mouth. “Do we really need the mistletoe?”

original post

[HOUSE] From The Beginning

marcasite — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 14:39:08 GMT

From The Beginning
House/Cameron, 1417 words, NC-17, "love hurts"
She’s really not sure what she wants to do at this point, too invested to leave; too hopeful to stay.

She spends most of her time avoiding and it’s exhausting.

The past three nights, she has lain quietly in her bed and simply watched the ceiling fan complete rotation after rotation. Every time she remembers her hopes for the date, she wants to bury her face in the pillows out of sheer mortification.

She still can’t believe how excited and hopeful she was at the beginning of the evening, and how utterly painful the night turned. The sting of his rejection still lingers along with her growing doubts that he has hidden feelings for her.

She’s really not sure what she wants to do at this point, too invested to leave; too hopeful to stay. This is a limbo and the professional side of her is determined to stay at all costs.

Letting herself into her apartment, she tosses her keys onto the hall table and makes her way into the kitchen. Before she even has a chance to do anything, there’s a tap at her door.

Sighing, she stares at the door debating whether she’s going to start this or not. His cane makes a more insistent knock and she moves across the hall to answer it. Opening it slightly, she holds her hand to the door and blocks his entrance.

“I should never have told you where I live.”

“Too late, I already know. Are you going to let me in?” He uses his cane to push gently against the door.

“Why?”

“What does a guy have to do to get a glass a wine to mix with his narcotics?”

Head shaking in defeat, she steps aside and allows him entrance. He pushes past her and heads straight for the couch. She doesn’t move, simply watches him. And waits.

“The wine?” His voice takes on an edge of sarcasm, as he tosses his cane on the couch and props himself against the edge of the arm.

She makes her way to the kitchen and silently pours both of them a glass of wine. Carefully she makes her way over to where he is sitting, hands him the glass without a word.

She stares at him; slowly lowering her hand back to her side and waits. She watches as he sets the glass down and stares back at her.

The world shrinks to this moment and slows to a long pause as she waits for him. House shows no outward sign of emotion; his face remains passive, his eyes unreadable.

“Why are you here?” Allison brings her glass to her lips, wishing she could drown the contents in one swallow.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

She takes a step backwards and his fingers clasp around her wrist, staying the motion. “Chase is worried that you seem tired, are you sleeping?”

She sighs, pulling on her wrist to loosen his grip. “Yes, I sleep just fine. Your concern is overwhelming.”

He trails his other hand down her arm to her waist and slides his palm under her T-shirt and tugs gently.

“Why are you doing this? I thought it was pretty clear that you were not interested.” She tries to push his hand away.

“I’m sure that I never said that I wasn’t interested. I think it was more along the lines of ‘I was what you needed’. There’s a difference. I also think you’ve been avoiding me.”

She stares at him wordlessly, wanting to believe him. He notices her hesitation and uses it against her as the hand that is holding her wrist reaches up to grab the glass away from her.

She’s not sure if she trusts him but she wants him and decides to make it as simple as that.

He continues to tug on her shirt and she allows him to pull it off of her. He tosses it to the floor. Her breasts, confined to her bra ache to be released, touched, kissed…

He unzips her pants, slides them over her hips. He starts to kiss her neck, letting her pants slide the rest of the way down. She lifts one foot at a time out of the material, her hands bracing on his shoulders.

His mouth charters a dangerous course across her shoulders, his tongue moving in lush circles evoking a series of damning tickles and absolutely delicious cravings. “House,” she whispers, her nails digging half moons into his shoulders. “I want this.”

He slides off her panties and slowly turns her. She holds up her hair as he unfastens her bra and slides the straps down her arms, his fingers trailing lightly over her skin. Every tiny hair on her arm stands up in response. “You’re so beautiful.” The admission is pulled quietly from him.

Wrapping his arms around her; he cups her breasts in his palms, lifts as he strokes her nipples with the rough pad of his thumbs. He continues the motions of his hands as he leans down to nibble her shoulder.

She tips her head back, offering her throat for his hungry mouth to taste. “S’good.”

House stops and pulls back slightly, eyes focusing on her. He leans forward, emptying the space between them and replacing the air with feral want, intent. She backs up, matching his stride until the corner of the wall nips her back and she splays her hands on either side of the wall. He touches her mouth with his finger, running it over her lip, obscuring the shape. “My pants.”

Allison gives a small smile and unfastens the belt with nimble fingers, slips the button through the slit and slowly slides the zipper down. She allows the back of her hand to brush the length of him through the soft cotton.

On a swift intake of air, he yanks the belt free of the loops, his eyes portraying an oceanic turbulence. Again a smile tugs the corner of her mouth at his obvious arousal.
Parting the V of his jeans by sliding her hands on either side of his erection, she slides her palms over his hips, under the band of his underwear, over the arch of his ass. Her body presses against him, enticing, warm.

A small moan catches in her throat as she slides his pants down, and he pulls her against him, his mouth slants over hers in a fierce, hungry kiss. He steps out of his pants, never breaking his hold on her. She digs her fingers wildly through his hair, fisting and releasing strands. She teeters, breathless, when the kiss ends.

He blindly fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, and swears in annoyance as he yanks his t-shirt over his head before turning her so she faces the length of the wall, takes her arms and places each hand solidly against the wall while nudging her legs apart until she stands spread eagle against it. Allison can barely breathe as his hands works up the inside of her thighs to the juncture of her heat and palms her. Gasping, she tilts her pelvis back, wriggling against his hand. He slides his finger inside her, then another. Allison cries out, bucks against him.

“House…” Her voice trails off. She wants to reach around to his hips and pull him deep inside. House presses his fingers deeper and strokes as her nails clawed against the wall and her breasts bounced with the rocking of her body. His fingers continued the exquisite torture and she has to keep from calling. It is there, right there. She could take it, take it, and it would feel so good.

He slides his fingers away and she whimpers. So close, so close. He moves against her again, the hair on his chest rubbing her back. He thrusts his length into her, entering completely and holds taut. “Want more?”

Cameron moves against him, her frustration showing. “Yes-“

He eases out until the tip of him nestles between her legs and then drives back into her. She gasps, clenching her muscles to draw him even deeper.

“Tell me what you want, anything you want.” He withdraws again, this time completely. He slides his length back and forth, driving her mad.

“You, this, now.”

He turns her quickly, claiming her mouth in another heated kiss. He walks her backwards, limping slightly, towards the couch; letting the whispers of possessive words fall from him.

*

She doesn’t avoid him the next morning; she thinks she’s done with that.

But she sees him watching her.

And knows that nothing ever changes.

original post

[HOUSE] Only In This Moment

marcasite — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 14:36:04 GMT

Only In This Moment
House/Cameron, 969 words, R,
This was no dream. This was the most erotic moment she’d ever experienced.

It was always the mistletoe.

Such a cliché.

House’s eyes were dark and seductive. They lingered on her lips and she wanted him to kiss her. More than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

“Well,” she said. She knew she could stand here all night and stare at him. “It is Christmas.”

“And that makes it easier.”

She smiled. “And we wouldn’t be taking advantage of the mistletoe?”

“You put that there on purpose.”

Once again, his reserve struck a cord. After all this time, she still could never be sure if his sincerity was feigned--House’s cavalier attitude could be sexy, but more times than not, it was exhausting.

But Cameron didn’t want to change him. Okay, she did. But he was entirely what she fell in love with, sarcasm and all. “I’m gonna head on home,” she said, still grinning. It was impossible to stop.

House nodded. “Okay, then.”

She turned to go. His hand reached out and grazed her shoulder, then slid oh so-slowly down her arm. The soft material of her blouse clung to her skin as his fingers swept downward, over her bicep and forearm. His warm skin caressed her wrist a moment before his fingers skimmed over her palm and twined with hers. A gentle pull had her turning fully to him.

He took one step forward and closed the gap between them. Cameron scarcely had a moment to pull in a breath before his lips touched hers. A whisper of a kiss. So soft and warm and fleeting, she could have dreamed it. But then his mouth touched hers again and her eyelids fluttered closed. This was no dream. This was the most erotic moment she’d ever experienced.

House’s lips pressed to hers for only a heartbeat before they simultaneously opened their mouths. His tongue slipped past her teeth and swept over hers. His free hand cupped her cheek as his body melded to hers. Their clothes, the moist skin, the heat that arced between them did a wicked number on her insides. Her entire body went into sensory overload. His tongue delved deeper, teasing hers, tangling with it in a sensual dance that left her molten and damn near singed to the core.

Her fingers skimmed over his side, up his rib cage. She clasped a fistful of now-limp white cotton, literally clutching at him, holding him to her. His hand, in turn, moved from her face and plowed through her hair, his fingers burrowing deep in the long strands.

Cameron heard a whimper of need lodge in her throat. He deepened the kiss. Their bodies were pressed together, yet she felt the insane desire to get closer to him. So much more so than she currently was. She longed for their clothes to melt away, wanting desperately to press her naked breasts to his warm skin. She wanted their limbs entwined, every inch of their bodies touching each
other. She longed for this. Craved it.

She wanted more than this, really. As House’s kiss became more impassioned with every second that passed, Cameron could think of nothing else but having him inside her. She wilted under his touch, her entire body seemingly liquefying. She could feel the tremble in her legs, a slight vibration that worked its way up to the apex where her sex throbbed in wicked beats.

The sounds and smells of the hospital at night faded into non-existence. All thoughts, save for the truly erotic ones, receded into the far recesses of her mind. All that registered was the feel of his lips on hers, the tantalizing sweep of his tongue, the warmth and strength of his fingers as they remained twined with hers, the heat and sensuality that engulfed her.

What should have been a friendly kiss, even a quick parting kiss, turned into something so sensuous; Cameron lost all touch with reality.

This was how she’d dreamed of being kissed by him. This was the kind of passionate, erotic, fully engaging kiss that she’d longed for, not that faux (although real in her feelings) kiss she had teased from him last year. House delivered it with such skill, such intimacy; she wondered how she’d live until their next kiss. It was that fabulous. That… perfect.

As he gently pulled away, she knew she should have bemoaned the loss. Her entire being felt the connection being broken as he moved away from her. But it really hadn’t been broken. Even as he stepped back, his fingers releasing hers, his hand slipping from her hair, she felt an innate bond. It was mystical, magical. Something beyond her comprehension. It was erotically powerful, yet heartwarming.

“That was one hell of a kiss," House said.

She reluctantly turned to leave, “I’m one hell of a girl.”

original post

[HOUSE] Make Me Believe 4/4

marcasite — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 14:32:32 GMT

Make Me Believe
Cameron, House/Cameron, 969 words, PG-13,
Wasn't this her one chance to leave all of this, including him, behind?
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

He hadn’t realized that he’d gotten use to the scent until the day it disappeared.

Ask him to identify the components of the scent, he would have no idea. He thought that maybe there was a flower in there (gardenias) or maybe something rich, textured with a lingering sweetness. The scent had always been there and in a strange way, he was comforted by it.

It was a Thursday when he noticed it gone and a vague sense of disquiet had settled over him. He had spent the morning avoiding both Chase and Wilson, them with the prying questions, and when he returned to his office it was gone. Funny, that. As long as he could imagine that scent, he could pretend that she was still around. Lurking around the corner and pretending to argue with him, baiting him in some fashion. Without any trace of her perfume, he had to admit that she’s really gone

It struck him that perhaps it wasn’t the scent that he missed but the person it had belonged to. But he dismissed this thought before it had been fully formed, discounting that notion.

He would not admit that he missed her, not to anyone least of all himself.

Chase was right, in that he had not been interested in hiring anyone else. He had waited a few months after his return from Boston before admitting to Cuddy that he did need to hire someone and reluctantly started interviewing. He had settled on a quiet, pediatrician from New York, letting Foreman boss the newbie around. He wondered how long the pediatrician would last, Wilson just begged him to give the guy a chance.

He had made the trip out to Boston, which was a complete disaster, in the hopes that he could explain away the nagging sense of unfinished business. If there was one thing that completely frustrated him, it was in the missing pieces. What prompted her to leave? Why Boston? Why now? Why lie?

He hated that she had lied to him. It was no less than what he expected but deep inside he thought that maybe they were a little different, that she would not have it in her. But she had still lied about leaving.

&

He stares at the door and hesitates before raising his hand to knock. He thinks he hears her on the other side and starts to knock again, his action belayed by the soft click of the lock releasing and the door opens slightly.

“I thought we said good night, House. Did you forget something?”

He knew he has, in typical fashion, ruined his attempt to try and understand why she has left. He knows he has made a mess of this evening but still can’t seem to find the words he wants to say to her. He’s not sure he’ll ever understand why he can’t let her go, but a small part of him doesn’t care. And suddenly the puzzle has doesn’t matter to him anymore.

He steps closer and reaches up to place his hand behind her neck. He drags her to him, ignoring her small gasp of surprise. His lips touch hers, softly at first, then with more pressure until his mouth fully covers hers in a possessive and demanding kiss. She tastes like a mixture of her wine and his scotch, and strawberries. The thought passes through his passion induced haze, “Cameron tastes of strawberries”

His tongue tangles with hers for a moment, and a wicked thrill shoots through him when she responds with equal passion. She seems to want to touch and taste just as much as he does. It takes everything he has to pull back and break the kiss. He traces a finger down her face and she smiles softly at him.

“Good night, House. Have a safe trip home.”

&

“Why do you always insist on sitting in the dark? I hate the dark.”

Cameron stands in the doorway to his office, arms crossed and she’s waiting for him.

“Have a rough day?” House looks at her, sarcasm his natural weapon.

“Actually, not so bad today. I deal” She crosses the room and sits in the chair across from him. She watches as he reaches into his drawer for the bottle of scotch he always keeps for emergencies. He indicates the bottle with a question and she declines his offer.

“My mother called today, wants to make sure I’m settled back in.” Cameron rolls her eyes, “I’ve been here for three months and she calls now. Some things don’t change.”

“You don’t miss being back home?”

She shrugs, “I’m not that far and this feels like home to me.”

“Why did you call Cuddy? You thought I was lying about the offer. What changed?” House takes a sip from his drink, suddenly the puzzle matters again.

She leans closer to him, “Maybe you gave me a reason to believe you. Have you eaten yet?” She refuses to fall into the same trap she had in the past.

House nods his head, “I’m not hungry.”

“Well, I’m starving. You can come and watch me eat.” She doesn’t give him a chance to reject her. She stands and grabs his coat, tossing it to him.

He reaches for his cane, “I’m not that easy. I’m a very difficult man-“

She crosses the room to stand in front of him, “Truthfully, you are just plain tiresome but I think that’s why I like you.”

In the end, it’s about them being them. He will never be able to understand the complexity that surrounds Allison Cameron and she will never be able to completely change him. He laughs and for the first time, understands that it doesn’t have to be as complicated as he’s determined to make them.
&

original post

[HOUSE] Make Me Believe 3/4

marcasite — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 14:30:24 GMT

Make Me Believe
Cameron, House/Cameron, 1329 words, PG-13,
Wasn't this her one chance to leave all of this, including him, behind?
Part 1 | Part 2 |

“It’s been three months,” Chase speaks up from the conference table, eyeing the stack of papers gathering on what had once been Cameron’s desk. “When are you going to hire someone new?”

“Why? The work too much for you?” Came the response from around the corner, where House was determined to do nothing. He has spent the entire morning watching television, alternating between his soaps and watching the people pass by his office.

Chase stands up and walks over to the doorway separating the two rooms. He makes his way over to a chair and sits down. “It’s not just about the work. We could use another person on the team. Or maybe you miss Cameron and think she might come back.” The last bit he speaks under his breath.

“If I wanted your advice, I wouldn’t ask for it. I find it touching that you are willing to have this conversation with me man to man, makes me all warm inside.” House sneers at Chase.

“Fine. I can’t understand why you haven’t hired someone else to help out.” Chase shrugs as he stands up. “I’m just getting tired of you moping about.”

House points at the door, “Go and find something to do. Maybe you can try and earn that indecent salary of yours.”

Chase just shakes his head as he moves toward the door, “Have you even called her?”

“Out.”

&

Wilson sighs as he watches House toss his ball up and down; he knows that he will not get any work done while House is determined to distract him.

“Hire someone else and be done with it. Three months and all you’ve done is complain about how she went behind your back.”

House frowns, “She was scheming the whole time. I knew she just wouldn’t visit her parents on a whim. Too plausible and she’s just not that smart.”

Wilson is exasperated, “What was she going to do? Tell her boss that she was interested in another opportunity and kindly ask your permission for time of so she could check it out? C’mon, that’s not realistic. She did what anyone else would do, what you would do.”

“I expected more from her.”

“Excuse me? I didn’t hear that?” Wilson teases House. “Did you actually have expectations of your staff? Huh, that explains why your staff is so completely loyal to you.”

“Is today offer Greg House advice day?”

“Not advice, what you’re experiencing from me is shock that you might actually care about something. You’ve been moping around the hospital for three months when, I should remind you that it’s partly your fault that she left. Who knows what might’ve happen if you hadn’t been nosy and gotten involved in her interview. You gave her no choice.”

“I’m not moping and I could care less about Cameron. I’m more concerned that Chase might get it into his head to follow her and then Foreman will get stuck with all the work.” House taps his cane impatiently against the floor.

Wilson stares at House, “Right. And the reason you haven’t hired anyone else is?”

“I enjoy watching Chase scurry about.”

“In all seriousness, House, you should try…”

House stands abruptly, interrupting Wilson. “I’m not interested in trying anything except for maybe the new couch in Cuddy’s office.”

House leaves without a backwards glance.

&

She pushes a lock of stray hair out of her face, and stares at the paperwork strewn across her desk. She sighs heavily and glances up at the clock, quarter to eight. Another day gone before there’s even had a moment to catch her breath. Cameron walks over to where she had placed her coat and bag, ignoring her desk. Smiling to herself, she wonders if the deli down the street was still open. That and a glass of wine would be perfect.

Turning down a corridor, she runs into her boss, Rachel. The older lady smiles as she comes to a stop in front of Cameron. “I hear that the Charles case went smoothly, no issues.”

Cameron smiles, “Surprisingly smooth. I kept waiting for something to go wrong, a test to disappear.”

“Was that common place at your old job?” Puzzlement is etched all over her face.

“Let’s just say it was never dull.” A smile twists in the corner of Cameron’s mouth, as she looks back at her boss. “Good night, Doctor Stone.”

Cameron braces her self for the cold as she steps outside the hospital, into the windy night. As she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she hears her name called. Turning, she stares at House.

“What are you doing here?” She’s not sure if she’s surprised. The sense of déjà vu overwhelms.

“Freezing my ass off, thank you for asking.” House pulls his cap lower to protect his face from the wind. “Can we go somewhere warmer?”

She nods her head and indicates to him that he should follow her. “I live about four blocks away. I usually walk to work every day. I want to make a stop real quick, and grab food. Care to join?”

House groans as he limps carefully beside her, “I knew I should’ve waited outside your apartment like a stalker. At least I would already be there.”

She looks over at him, “Still complaining, I see.”

“Not complaining, merely making an observation.”

“Sounds like complaining. How did you get here?” She looks up at him curiously.

“I made Wilson drive me.”

“Wilson’s here? Where is he? You should’ve asked him to join us. No doubt, he’s cursing your friendship.” Cameron tugs gently at House’s sleeve. “Is he waiting for you?”

House smirks at her earnest, “He’s at the hotel, enjoying the company of the bartender.”

“You are a terrible friend.”

“Ah, I thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t.” Cameron shrugs, as she stops in front of the deli.

House turns his gaze squarely on her face, “Stop lying.”

She ignores his statement, instead pointing at the deli. “Dinner, you can buy.

&

They eat quietly in front of the television; House insists they watch a soap like drama. Content, Cameron takes another sip of wine from her glass and looks over at House who is feigning sleep.

“Why are you here?”

“I don’t know.” It is the first honest thing he has said in a long time. Cameron gives him credit for that. She pushes at him a little bit more, not really sure what’s going to happen.

“You couldn’t possibly miss me?”

He ignores her statement, “Do you like it here?”

“I think I do. My family’s here and it’s nice living near them.” She leans closer, lowering her voice, “I’ll tell you a secret though, it’s a little bit boring.”

House laughs at her tone, “I think you miss me, miss the excitement.”

Cameron leans back again, “I think about it sometimes but I know that I can’t go back. I can’t work for you.”

“I’m not offering you your job back. You chose to leave.”

She gets up and moves into the kitchen, “I didn’t think you were offering me my job back. I’m just not exactly sure what you’re doing at all.”

She’s disappointed and isn’t sure what she should do. Once again he has her on the defense, leaving her confused and a little bit rattled. “Why are you here?”

“Cuddy has a job offer for you.”

For the first time all night, she’s angry. “You had Wilson drive five hours to tell me Cuddy has an offer? Now who’s lying?”

Before he can say anything, she moves toward the door. “You can let yourself out. Please tell Wilson I say hi.”

House grabs his cane and walks over to the door. He reaches for his coat and cap, “I’m not lying, Cuddy does have a job offer for you.”

“That’s not why you came all this way. Good night, House.”

She leans against the closed door and wonders why she keeps falling for his games.

&

original post

[HOUSE] Make Me Believe 2/4

marcasite — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 14:27:58 GMT

Make Me Believe
Cameron, House/Cameron, 940 words, PG-13,
Wasn't this her one chance to leave all of this, including him, behind?
Part 1 |

She steps out of the cab into the bright, crisp afternoon weather and turns to pull her luggage out of the cab. She waves to the cab driver as he drives off, leaving her standing on the sidewalk. She turns to stare at her parent’s brick brownstone, memories of her childhood flooding back to her in cascading visions. She has always loved this part of Boston, with its endless rows of brownstones on shady, tree lined streets. Over the years, the Back Bay has grown busier but it is still one of the most desirable neighborhoods in the city.

Closing her eyes, she inhales the air and sighs contentedly. She really needs to make an effort to come home more often. Here she feels balance, secure. No long days chasing after House, no more second guessing, no doubts. After Danny died she had spent a month with her parents simply coping and she remembers that time as being one the last quiet times she had before leaving for New Jersey.

Picking up her bag, she climbs the steps to the house, pulling out her keys as she went. Opening the door, she swings her head around the door calling out, “Hello, Mom. I’m home.”

He mother sticks her head out of the kitchen into the hallway, “Allison! You’re here.” She rushes down the hallway and engulfs her daughter in a hug. Allison closes her eyes at her mother’s touch and hugs her back. She has missed this.

“So good to see you,” her mother pulls back and stares at her. “You look exhausted, have you been eating?”

Allison laughs, “Yes, I’m eating. I’m fine, Mom, really.”

“Well, you don’t just come home without a reason.” Her mother spoke as she links her arm through her daughter’s, steering them both towards the kitchen “Something’s going on.”

“Well, I have an opportunity that came up here in the area and I thought it was worth checking out.” She snags an apple off a bowl on the counter and bites into it.

“I thought you were happy in New Jersey. Has something happened?”

Allison chews her apple thoughtfully. What was she going to tell her mother? That she has fallen in love with someone who is completely damaged, completely arrogant, and has shown no desire for her, well except for that kiss. He had definitely returned her kiss, no doubts about that. She sighs inwardly, yes something has happened and she’s not sure she can handle the nothing as a result.

“Nothing’s happened. I’ve learned so much from Doctor House but I’ve been asked to interview for a position in my specialty.” She shrugs. “It seems like something worth checking into.”
Her mother nods, satisfied. “Your father and brother will be home soon, wash up and we’ll eat.”

Allison does as her mother ask, wondering if she

really

was doing the right thing.

&

House stands over her desk, tossing papers haphazardly to the left and right. Foreman ignores him as he continues to read his newspaper and Chase just stares at the mess that is being created.

“What exactly are you looking for?” He asks, as he sips from his coffee mug.

“Cameron’s lying and I intend to find out why.”

“So you think she just left it lying on her desk for you to find?”

Foreman looks up as Chase said this and smirks before returning to his paper. House doesn’t bother looking up as he makes a face, “See, she wrote down her flight information. She’s going to Boston.”

The paper rustles as Foreman places it on the table. “Considering that she told us that she was going home, I would be surprised if it said anything else. House, why does it even matter?”
House ignores him and continues to stare at the writing on the slip of paper. He picks up his cane and moves toward his office, “I wonder…”

Foreman just shakes his head and picks the paper back up again. He doesn’t care what Cameron is hiding but it is still amusing to watch House scurry around trying to figure it out.

Point one for Cameron.

&

Allison sits in the waiting area of Doctor Stone’s office and smiles as her receptionist indicates that she should go in. Rachel Stone greets her and asks her if she wants anything to
drink. She declines and waits, tucking her hands neatly over the folder that contains her CV.

Doctor Stone outlines the program and gives her a detailed description of the job and the expectations. “I have to say, Doctor Cameron, we are very excited that you would consider us. Now that we understand that you are immediately available, we will do everything we can to accommodate you in your move back to the area.”

Allison stares at her, puzzlement showing on her face, at her words. “I’m sorry; I don’t understand what you mean about immediate availability.”

Rachel looks at her, “Oh, I spoke with your boss this morning, he seemed extremely pleasant. Doctor House told me that he knew how excited you were about moving back to Boston and he was sorry that he was going to lose such a valued member of his team. He wishes you nothing but the best and hopes that we understand what an asset we are potentially gaining.”

Allison wasn’t sure what to say, she feels completely stunned. House knew, he knew, and was doing everything he could to make it easier for her to leave. Should she be so surprised?

And for one moment, things became clear.

“I’m looking forward to the challenge. When do you need me to start?"

&

original post

[HOUSE] Make Me Believe 1/4

marcasite — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 14:25:26 GMT

Make Me Believe
Cameron, House/Cameron, 1054 words, PG-13,
Wasn't this her one chance to leave all of this, including him, behind?

She held the letter loosely between the fingers of her left hand, worrying the crease with the fingers of her right hand. She had read the contents repeatedly but the words had remained the same each time she poured over them.

She had been going through all of House’s mail, the same as any other day, when she noticed one addressed to her. She had quietly tucked it away in the pocket of her lab coat, looking around. She wondered at the feeling of guilt, but she thinks she knows what this letter is and she doesn’t want to risk anyone else reading it. Especially not House.

She knows this letter will turn her life upside down.

It isn’t until she’s home later that evening, that she remembers the letter that she had pulled from her coat and stuffed into her bag. Leaving the glass of wine she had been holding on the table, she pulled her bag from the closet and extracted the letter. With slightly shaking hands, she had opened the letter and withdrew the note from inside. The letter was simple and to the point, it was a request from Boston Medical Center in Massachusetts to interview for a position in their newly created Immunology program. She was, the letter stated, one of the lucky few to serve a fellowship with the noted Doctor Gregory House and they hoped that she would be interested in teaching those skills she had acquired to others. Would she be interested in this opportunity?

That had been three days ago.

Today, in the soft light of her office, she stares at the letter and wonders if this is her one chance to move on. Isn’t this the opportunity she’s been waiting for?

“What’s that?”

She jumps at the sound of House’s voice, and quickly slips the letter into the front pocket of her pants. She knows him, and if she didn’t keep the letter on her at all times, he will find a way to get it from her. It’s taken some time but she’s catching up.

Smiling, she casually gathers her belongings and grabs her coat. “It’s a letter from my mother. She wants me to come visit her. I think I just might. I have some vacation time and we don’t have a case, may I go at the end of the week?”

He watches her suspiciously, “You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not. I really am going to visit my mother and I really would like the time next week.” She starts to move past him, hand sliding casually into her pocket to grip the letter tightly.

He moves to block her, eyes narrowing at her tone. She stares at him and she knows that she’s making the right decision. It was time to go.

“Good night, House. We can do this tomorrow.” She moves around him, still holding onto the letter.

His eyes follow her, still filled with doubt.

&

The following morning, before she leaves for the hospital, she makes a few phone calls. First, she calls Boston Medical and arranges to come in for an interview the following week. The voice on the other line assures her that they are eager to meet her and wishes her pleasant travels.

Her mother is delighted to hear from her. “You don’t call nearly enough, Allison. Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. I just have a few days and I thought it was time to come home.” Her voice is tired, strained and her mother knows not to press her.

“That would be wonderful, darling. We miss you.”

She nods absently and concludes the call. She wants to leave now and she doesn’t really understand the sense of urgency that she’s feeling.

&

House leans back in the chair and, to the annoyance of his companion, starts to toss a grey and red ball up and down in the air. He misses once and the ball lands precariously close to Wilson’s coffee, causing him to snatch the ball away.

“Mine now. Go and annoy Cuddy for awhile. It’s not even ten in the morning; she hasn’t had her fair share of you yet.”

House stares at Wilson, ignoring his last statement. “She’s hiding something. I can see it in her face.”

“Cuddy doesn’t need to tell you everything she does.”

“Not Cuddy, Cameron. She lied to me yesterday and I am not sure why.” He pauses, “Yet.”

Wilson throws his hands into the air, “According to you everybody lies. Why should Cameron be any different? And who cares?”

“She’s lying, she’s hiding something and I want to know what.” He stands and heads toward the door. “I don’t care why, just the what.”

Wilson watches as his friend closes the door behind him and sighs heavily. He knows that this is more than a puzzle to House and if Cameron is up to something, he has a feeling that he’s going to get involved in this somehow.

&

The day has been long and grueling with House nowhere to be found and they end up wasting half of it looking around for him. It seems endless and it was with excitement that she gathers her belongings at the end of it.

“When are you going?”

She purposely misunderstands him, “Now, I’m tired.”

He rolls his eyes at her, “On your vacation.”

“It’s not a vacation.”

“Ah ha! See you were lying yesterday. You said it was a vacation.” House nods at her, triumphant.

She smiles at him as she moves to leave, “I’m going to visit my mother, not exactly something, even you, could classify as a vacation. A vacation would be someplace tropical with a few Mai Tais. That, now that would be a vacation.”

“Would you like to go somewhere tropical?”

Something in his tone makes her turn and look at him, his gaze cool and assessing. This is one of the quiet moments that cause her to second guess everything about him, about them. The simple comments and the silent stares have always been enough in the past to make her change her mind. About everything.

She maintains her smile as she maneuvers toward the entry, “Who wouldn’t? Night.”

He watches her leave, determined to find out exactly what she’s hiding from him.

And now he wants to know why.

&

tbc

original post

[HOUSE] Anticipation

marcasite — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 23:19:09 GMT

Anticipation
House/Cameron, NC-17, 500 words,
This is how she breaks him. One kneeling, the other praying the mantra, “Oh God, Oh God”

This is how she breaks him. One kneeling, the other praying the mantra, “Oh God, Oh God” murmured through fevered lips. She leaned forward again, the rigid length of his cock thrusting out beside her face, the hair of his thighs caressing her nipples through the fabric of her attire. When she tilted her head to look up at him, she finds his ice blue eyes locked on her, watching her every move with a kind of tortured anticipation. She could see him calculating the moments until she took his cock into her mouth, waiting for the firestorm of sensation her tongue and lips would bring.

Watching him wait, Allison felt a burst of feminine power. She put out her tongue and licked away a drop of pre-come. He jolted against her mouth. She licked the head again, watching it bob with the stroke, then caught it in her mouth. And began to suck. Gently at first, then harder. Smiling around his width, she pressed her head forward until the thick shaft moved deeper between her lips. Then pulled back, tightening her lips at the same time to create a demanding suction.

His hand came to rest on top of her head, fingers lacing through her curls. She felt him shudder and reversed her stroke, taking him deeper and deeper, until the big head brushed the back of her throat.

House gasped as her mouth drew at him with such power it made his head swim. It felt so good, so hot. And the sight of her of her, slim and beautiful, kneeling between his feet with her lips wrapped around his cock. God, he could come just from looking at her. She slid forward again, pleasuring him until he wanted to explode down her throat. He needed this, wanted this.

His climax built, hot and cold all at once, and a growl rumbled through his throat as he exploded in a long, fiery cascade. He dragged her up, avoiding his thigh , and kissed her, his tongue forcing his way into her mouth in a caress as old as time. She pulled back and looked into his eyes.

He brushed her hair off her face, “Your place again? Wilson…” he trailed off. She nodded and went to put her coat on. She smiled when she heard House calling after her, “Keep that red dress on.””

original post

[HOUSE] Waves and Currents

marcasite — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 23:16:20 GMT

Waves and Currents
House/Cameron, NC-17, 605 words,
It feels so right, feels so wrong, feels so freeing; this is where they needed to be.

He propelled himself through the water, using his good leg to push through the soft waves. He loved the water; the heat of the summer sun conflicting with the cool rush of waves. It was one of the only places that he felt whole with no one staring at his limp. He became aware of her presence along the side of his line of sight. She stood there, arms crossed with the slight edge of puzzlement crossing her face. He waved to her, “Come in, it’s nice in here and what did I say about the whole clenching thing. It’s too hot out to be worried about anything.”

She didn’t move. “I thought when you said pool, you meant game of. I didn’t even know you had a pool.”

He repeated his invitation and watched while she gnawed on her lips. “I don’t have a suit.”

“You have underwear, right?” House clasped his hands together. “Let it be a thong, let it be a thong.” She rolled her eyes and moved closer to the edge of the water. She pulled her t-shirt over her head, revealing a simple white bra. After a brief hesitation, she stepped out of her capri’s and tossed them onto the ground. Crossing her arms over her torso, she moved to the shallow end of the pool and gingerly stepped in.

He was right. The water felt wonderful. But she could feel the undercurrent of tension between them. It was strong enough to drown an Olympic swimmer. She floated in the middle of the pool, for all intent and purposes, naked. She longed to swim over to him and throw herself in his arms. She turned to swim out to the deep end and came face to face with him.

His hands grabbed her, and before she caught her breath, his lips claimed hers. As he hungrily kissed her, her head spun and she clung to him for support. He tasted of mint, and scotch, and everything that was perfect in her world.

“Is there something you’d like?” he murmured, his tongue tracing a path down her neck. She shivered at the sensation of cool and hot before responding, “Make love to me.”

House kissed her and she clutched him fiercely, pressing her breast against his bare chest. While his tongue explored the recesses of her mouth, she clung to him, wriggling, trying to get him to fill the overpowering void inside her.

He slid his cock between her thighs and allowed his hands to roam freely over her body. He let out a groan that tumbled from his lips when she flexed the muscles of her thigh gently around his rigid flesh. He grasped her buttocks and pulled her closer, the water flowing between them, creating a slick tunnel.

Suddenly he was filling her, stretching her open in a slow, silken thrust. As his name slid from her lips, he drove into her. He drew her slowly upward, withdrawing almost completely, and then plunging back in a controlled stroke. She gasped aloud, a tide of liquid fire flooding her. His eyes were heavy lidded with passion as he pressed against her over and over. She was drowning in a wave of pleasure, diving into an eddy of sensation. She held his shoulders while a shudder rocked his frame, and he took her with him, riding the wave of ecstasy until breaker after breaker crashed along the shore of their emotions.

Allison became aware of her heart hammering against her ribs and of Greg pulling away.

He smiled at her as he started to float away. “God, I love this pool.”

original post

[HOUSE] Her Personal Fantasy

marcasite — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 23:12:06 GMT

Her Personal Fantasy
House/Cameron, NC-17, 801 words, "Informed Consent"
I want to make you scream my name.

“Name one guilty pleasure you never told anyone about.”

Allison groaned and covered her face with her hands. Then peeked through her fingers. “I love art. I’m terrible at anything artistic and can’t draw a thing but I love art. I have a box of crayons at home; when I’m stressed I color.”

House drew back from her in surprise. “I never knew you did that.”

She tipped the side of her lips up in a half smile. “Of course not, you don’t know me.”

Her remark seemed to throw him off guard and she caught an almost guilty expression. Then he seemed to recover and forged on. “One thing you hate, if that is even at all possible for you.”

“Jello shots, remember?”

His lips twitched in the need to smile. “Sexual fantasy?”

In one swift motion, she straddled him. She arched her back, her breasts thrust forward, crowned by rosy nipples. She held him within her hand, teasing the tip of his rock-hard sex. Brown waves fell down around her shoulders, and she gave a low laugh, her eyes full of secrets and passion.

“This is my fantasy. What I’m about to do right now. I want to take you in my mouth and make you scream my name.” Her voiced dropped to a husky purr.

He swore under his breath and clawed for control. His cock throbbed against the soft skin of her fingers as she continued teasing him, running her thumb over the turgid flesh. Her breasts pressed against his chest as she lowered her head, and her tongue licked at his nipples. They hardened into little points and she used her teeth to gently pull. His low moan urged her on as she moved lower.

Her hands cupped his hips as she settled over his hard length, and then knelt between his legs.

Her warm breath struck him first, and she opened her lips to take him in the slick, satin depths of her mouth. She teased him mercilessly, never taking in his fullness. Her tongue swirled around the tip, gathering the drops of moisture that spilled, then moved up and down the ridged underside as if he was a sweet lollipop she had discovered and decided to suck slowly.

Just as he was about to go mad and force her to take him completely, her hand cupped his balls and her lips opened wide to plunge him to the back of her throat.

He cursed.

The pleasure was too intense. Her tongue swirled around him as her mouth held him tightly, moving in and out with a steady pace that tested his control. Her name spilled from his lips in a chant, and her suction grew even harder, luring him over the edge. Allison made hungry sounds in the back of her throat, as if she couldn’t get enough of him, and his pulsing, pounding cock throbbed within her wet mouth, the pressure building to a screaming point until he exploded in a sharp burst. He dimly realized that the shouting he heard was his own.

Her hair formed a silken curtain that swung back and forth over his thighs. He reached for her, his lips moving over hers and savored the taste of strawberries, the sting of vanilla, and the arousal of her hunger. Her tongue slipped inward, touching the tip of his tongue in a teasing caress, than drank deeply of him. When she finally raised her head, she couldn’t hide her delight.

“That Greg was my secret fantasy. Works even without the Jello shots, though we can keep the wild sex part.”

original post

[HOUSE] This Impossible Love (Night Series)

marcasite — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 23:07:49 GMT

This Impossible Love
House/Cameron, PG-13, 827 words,
This was something deeper, something more than love.

He shouldn’t be this needy. When he was around her he shook with a tangle of lust and love. He could take care of the lust part but he knew the love was something he couldn’t allow to happen. He didn’t want to need her but realized that she was his obsession, his puzzle and he realized that he wanted to live this obsession, even for just a little while.

For a moment, House rested the back of his head against the sofa and closed his eyes. For so long he’d refused to acknowledge his loneliness, the desire for a connection. Connections were for other people and he constantly brushed away the small olive branches that Wilson continued to extend to him. House sighed; he still wasn’t sure why Wilson kept trying. Even before the infarction, he had thought of his life as utterly apart from others carefully maintaining his distance. Even with Stacy.

And all along, like a powerful underground river, his need for love flowed until it had found the right place to come up into the light. His need for Allison betrayed everything he thought he had believed in. Distance, disassociation, barricades. It couldn’t last. The connection had to be severed and this river had to dry up.

Because needing her this much scared him beyond reason.

House opened his eyes at the feel of Allison’s hand against his cheek. Her gaze was soft. He covered her hand with his, then turned her hand around to lace his fingers through hers. He brought the back of her hand to his lips. She whispered, “Why would you rather be so alone?”

“You can’t miss what you don’t know. Do you want to know what a perfect world would be for me? For us?” She nods. “In this perfect world, I realize what I am missing and it’s in my grasp. I find you and I’m not going to let you go. I take you out every night. I watch you work, accompanying you to conferences. I follow you around all day and make it clear to everyone that I am staking my claim to you. Like now, in this other world it’s mid-December when I start courting you and on Christmas Day, I give you a diamond ring and ask you to do the honor of becoming my wife. We marry on New Year’s Eve and we make love that night, fireworks exploring all around us.”

House closed his eyes at her gentle gasp. “You get pregnant right away. Every night we make love and every day I watch your body change as you carry my child. When our baby is born, you hold us both in your arms and the three of us are together, connected by something deeper than love.”

Allison cried out softly and his heart pounded as he turned his head to kiss her fiercely. She clung to him and he finally lifted his head and looked down at her for a long moment, letting her see his pain and regret.

“But,” he said finally, harshly, “that’s not the way it’s going to be. This isn’t a perfect world, Allison, and I haven’t lived a perfect life. You think you can heal me, change me by the simple power of your love and hope but that is just another fantasy. I will walk away from you. I will hurt you, as hard as I try not to. This is all I can offer you. Right now. Will it be enough?”

He could almost feel the intensity of Allison’s gaze. Her eyes moved slowly, giving off glittering shards of light with each movement, looking deeply into his. Her gaze roamed over every inch of face, as if to measure his resolution.

House was used to hiding his feelings. It was harder with Allison. Before her, he’d have denied having any feelings at all. So now he showed her the smooth, hard façade of his resolve. She mustn’t have any illusions. They could be fatal to her and to his sanity.

“What will it be, love. Yes or no?”

Suddenly, Allison expelled her breath and softened in his arms. She brought a hand back to his cheek and a silvery tear slipped out and coursed down a smooth, ivory cheek. She held his gaze with hers and he could read everything of her character in it.

The character that he constantly mocked but was what attracted him so strongly to her.

Strength, courage, understanding.

She tried to smile but it was a weak effort and it shook him to the core. He felt like something evil, something dark for doing this to her but it really was the only way he knew how to protect himself. And in the end, it was about protecting himself from her. Because he knew she would break him.

“Yes,” she whispered and lifted her mouth to his.

original post
Winner for the Best Series Category 2007 House Fanfic Awards

[HOUSE] Stay the Night (Night Series)

marcasite — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 23:03:17 GMT

Stay the Night
House/Cameron, PG-13, 1036 words,
No one has ever held her so tightly, left her feeling so open.

She would never understand him. She knows that years will go by, and he will still remain an enigma, that puzzle that she just can not solve. When he approached her the first time and asked her to have drinks, it took her completely by surprise and she hesitated, so unsure of his sincerity. Turns out she had a reason to not believe in him.

It was a few days later, she had already started to pack up for the evening, when he approached her again. House had startled her; she had assumed everyone had left for the evening. His voice had been low and she recognized the dangerous timbre layered beneath his words as he asked her to dinner again. Maybe it was this dark, vulnerable quality that prompted her to say yes. The only thing she did know was that he was not going to ask her again if she had declined. She wasn’t ready for this, whatever it was, to be over.

That dinner had given her a strong sense of déjà vu, although instead of his bitter remarks about their incompatibility, she was treated instead to silence and a House that stared with earnest into his glass of scotch. She had tried to make small talk and almost, almost, wished for the sarcasm because at least she could volley with him. Anything was better than a brooding House.

Gathering her things as he paid the bill, she signed inwardly, ready to write off this date and move on, this simply wasn't going to work and she had accepted that awhile ago. She honestly didn't want to become whatever experiment he needed her to be. It was when he pulled up in front of her home that he had managed to surprise her. She had turned to thank him for the dinner when his hand shot out and stroked the side of her face. He folded her hand in his, and she watched him curiously. Before she understood his intention, he leaned forward and placed his mouth over hers, slanting to open her lips. She shivered as his tongue met hers, sliding over it, exploring her mouth. He bit lightly on the bottom lip, licked it, and then licked into her mouth. She couldn’t open her eyes, she couldn’t move. All she could do was open her mouth helplessly to his as his lips and tongue gave her honeyed pleasure. She heard a soft noise and had realized, dimly, that she was moaning deep in her throat. His tongue swirled deep and withdrew. His mouth lifted, settled, and then lifted again. He pulled back and gazed at her. Her eyelids felt heavy; it had taken great effort to open them. She stared at him, numbly.

“May I come in?” his voice came out low, barely a whisper.

He had been so withdrawn all evening and this kiss had hinted at something darker, deeper than he could put to words and she was ready. For him, for this.

She had told him to help himself to something to drink and headed for the bedroom. She had heard the clink of ice in the glass and knew he would meander his way into her room. House followed his own rules and was not surprised to find him sitting on her bed with his drink. She was surprised though, by the sound of glass breaking and realized that he had cut himself. Something was affecting him but when he suddenly reached up and touched her, all thoughts flew out her mind and everything narrowed in scope until it was simply her and him. He whispered her name and when he entered her he had whispered his need for her. At that moment, she understood. He didn’t want to need her so much, didn’t want anyone else to have her.

“What are you thinking about, Allison?”

She turned her head to study his profile. “About afterwards,” she said simply.

He froze, his hands still encased around her hair. Slowly his hand lowered, resting on his stomach as he stared at the ceiling. He closed his eyes.

“Allison…”he murmured. “Don’t.”

“I can’t help it.”

He turned to catch her in his arms and kissed her fiercely, wildly. His lips crushed hers, his teeth clashed with hers as he ate at her mouth, bruising her in a kiss of possession, not arousal.

His arms were so tight she could hardly breathe, but she didn’t care because she was holding him just as tightly, her hands running madly over the muscles of his shoulders, over his neck, through his hair. He pulled back and she followed, unwilling to let the kiss end.

“After-,” she waved her hand at his face. “After this, I will miss you.”

And she wonders how she will manage when he leaves.

original post
Winner for the Best Series Category 2007 House Fanfic Awards

[CSI] A Call to Darkness 4/4

marcasite — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 17:26:44 GMT

A Call to Darkness
Sara/Grissom, 1951 words, PG-13,
Leaving this city meant leaving Grissom behind.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Darkness blanketed the city with a cool breeze accompanying it. She had forgotten how stark the landscape became in the throes of winter. The days dwindled into night faster than she cared for and she soon found herself longing for the warmth of the sun on her skin. The irony was not lost on her.

Was it possible to feel so alone and yet be surrounded by people everyday? She loved her students and saw traces of future Grissoms, Nicks, and Gregs in all of them. She even had a student that reminded her a little bit too much of herself. Quiet and dedicated, Sara tried to persuade her into opening up and shared with her some of her experiences in Vegas.

And then there was Tom. Everything a single woman could ask for in a man. He was smart, charming, funny, and handsome. She had gone on a few dinners and coffee breaks with him since her arrival. In a city where she knew no one, his company was very much desired and had been a welcome one. He shared with her stories of travels abroad and of a near marriage. He explained how his fiancée had loved him as well as his best friend. At this, Sara had sobered up and Tom had laughed at her expression. It had been years ago and he was touched that she cared. He pushed her to tell him about her life before today. Sara measured out her past in small doses, choosing to share about some cases but never anything personal. She knew Tom was disappointed in how unwilling she was to share about her time in Vegas and even before that, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to tell him about Grissom and what he meant to her. It was something she clung to tightly and savored just for herself.

She felt a hand touch her arm, calling her back from her musings. She looked into blue eyes, the vivid blue eyes of her dinner companion. “Where were you, Sara?”

She had the grace to blush and dipped her head to one side. “Here. Sorry this weather makes me a bit melancholy for the warmth of Vegas. Funny how you crave one thing and when you finally have it, you realize how much you miss what you had.”

Tom leaned back on his chair, “Why do I think we are no longer talking about the weather?”

“I just miss Vegas. More than I thought possible.”

“Why did you come here, Sara? Everyone can see you are not one hundred percent thrilled about being here.” Tom’s eyes drilled into her, she felt slightly cornered.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “It felt like the right idea at the time. I’ll be honest, Tom. I think I could get use to it here; it’s just going to take me some time.”

“But do you really want to be here?” Tom leaned closer, “Who did you leave behind?”

"You know," She drawled, "I don't think I am interested in having this conversation."

He just looked at her. "Sara, I don't want to pry but clearly you’re not happy here." He waved a hand at her as she started to respond. "I mean beyond the teaching which you seem to have a knack for. The kids love you. You left someone behind and it eats away at you. Never mind the fact, that whenever we have dinner together you are a million miles away. I'll start to take it personal soon."

Sara sighed, "No, just three thousand miles away. You're right, Tom. I made friends in Vegas, I had a life there. You might not think much of it but it was a good one."

He just nodded at her, hoping she would continue. "And there was someone, someone I've loved for as long as I can remember."

"Why leave? You wanted to get married and he didn't?"

Sara threw back her head and laughed. It was a solid laugh and it felt good. "Far from it. We weren't "dating" in that sense of the word." She shook her head, "Actually saying it out loud makes it seem so silly."

Tom looked at her, eyes dancing, "Ah, another case of love from afar."

Sara sobered up at Tom's tone, "I went to Vegas for him. He asked me to come and I did no hesitation. I like to think at the beginning we were on the same page. We were friends once.”

“But not anymore?”

“I don’t think we have been friends for a very long time.” Sara smiled widely at Tom. “You have to engage in conversations with one another if you’re friends.”

Tom looked at her, “Do you know how beautiful you are when you smile? You don’t smile nearly enough, Sara.”

She looked down at the table and started to twist her napkin. “Thanks. You really are a flirt.”

“Not flirting, just honest. I’m not going to push you, Sara. I want your friendship and more than anything; your trust.” He waved the waiter over to pay the bill. “Do what you need but you should be happier.”

Sara waited while Tom helped her into her coat, and on the ride home she thought about everything they said. She faced the fact that she was lonely. Complete and utterly alone. As solitary as a figure she was in Vegas, at least she had her coworkers. And over time they had become her family. Two years ago they had faced their own mortality with the kidnapping of Nick and that had dealt her a personal blow. That was a defining moment in her life and she had dissected its implications in her mind and this is where it had led her. To this cold, unwilling city on the other side of the country. Why did she think she could leave behind the ghosts of her past and run? Where would she end up? To a time before university, before Las Vegas, before Grissom? If she could do it, would she take back all those years and do them differently? Sara knew better than that. She would have done it all over again. He was her man. Through and through. She would love him where ever he was and she was only just starting to realize this.

She realized with a start that they were outside her brownstone. Tom was moving around the car to open the door. She clasped his extended hand and he shut the door behind her. He held her elbow lightly as he accompanied her to her doorstep. A light snow had started to fall and Tom lightly brushed her hair off her face. He placed the flat of his palm against her cheek and leaned down to kiss her other cheek. “Sara, you have to do what will make you the happiest. Staying, leaving, learning from all this. Whatever you do, let me be there for you. In whatever capacity you need me to be.”

Sara just smiled up at him, those blue, blue eyes. “Thank you, Tom. You have no idea what that means to me.”

“Good night then.”

Tom turned to leave and Sara watched from the doorstep as his car faded into the night.

She didn’t see the solitary figure standing on the corner, the streetlamp silhouetting his profile.

original post
Sentences for A CALL TO DARKNESS

[CSI] A Call to Darkness 3/4

marcasite — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 17:24:32 GMT

A Call to Darkness
Sara/Grissom, 1224 words, PG-13,
Leaving this city meant leaving Grissom behind.
Part 1 | Part 2

Darkness blanketed the city with a cool breeze accompanying it. She had forgotten how stark the landscape became in the throes of winter. The days dwindled into night faster than she cared for and she soon found herself longing for the warmth of the sun on her skin. The irony was not lost on her.

Was it possible to feel so alone and yet be surrounded by people everyday? She loved her students and saw traces of future Grissoms, Nicks, and Gregs in all of them. She even had a student that reminded her a little bit too much of herself. Quiet and dedicated, Sara tried to persuade her into opening up and shared with her some of her experiences in Vegas.

And then there was Tom. Everything a single woman could ask for in a man. He was smart, charming, funny, and handsome. She had gone on a few dinners and coffee breaks with him since her arrival. In a city where she knew no one, his company was very much desired and had been a welcome one. He shared with her stories of travels abroad and of a near marriage. He explained how his fiancée had loved him as well as his best friend. At this, Sara had sobered up and Tom had laughed at her expression. It had been years ago and he was touched that she cared. He pushed her to tell him about her life before today. Sara measured out her past in small doses, choosing to share about some cases but never anything personal. She knew Tom was disappointed in how unwilling she was to share about her time in Vegas and even before that, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to tell him about Grissom and what he meant to her. It was something she clung to tightly and savored just for herself.

She felt a hand touch her arm, calling her back from her musings. She looked into blue eyes, the vivid blue eyes of her dinner companion. “Where were you, Sara?”

She had the grace to blush and dipped her head to one side. “Here. Sorry this weather makes me a bit melancholy for the warmth of Vegas. Funny how you crave one thing and when you finally have it, you realize how much you miss what you had.”

Tom leaned back on his chair, “Why do I think we are no longer talking about the weather?”

“I just miss Vegas. More than I thought possible.”

“Why did you come here, Sara? Everyone can see you are not one hundred percent thrilled about being here.” Tom’s eyes drilled into her, she felt slightly cornered.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “It felt like the right idea at the time. I’ll be honest, Tom. I think I could get use to it here; it’s just going to take me some time.”

“But do you really want to be here?” Tom leaned closer, “Who did you leave behind?”

"You know," She drawled, "I don't think I am interested in having this conversation."

He just looked at her. "Sara, I don't want to pry but clearly you’re not happy here." He waved a hand at her as she started to respond. "I mean beyond the teaching which you seem to have a knack for. The kids love you. You left someone behind and it eats away at you. Never mind the fact, that whenever we have dinner together you are a million miles away. I'll start to take it personal soon."

Sara sighed, "No, just three thousand miles away. You're right, Tom. I made friends in Vegas, I had a life there. You might not think much of it but it was a good one."

He just nodded at her, hoping she would continue. "And there was someone, someone I've loved for as long as I can remember."

"Why leave? You wanted to get married and he didn't?"

Sara threw back her head and laughed. It was a solid laugh and it felt good. "Far from it. We weren't "dating" in that sense of the word." She shook her head, "Actually saying it out loud makes it seem so silly."

Tom looked at her, eyes dancing, "Ah, another case of love from afar."

Sara sobered up at Tom's tone, "I went to Vegas for him. He asked me to come and I did no hesitation. I like to think at the beginning we were on the same page. We were friends once.”

“But not anymore?”

“I don’t think we have been friends for a very long time.” Sara smiled widely at Tom. “You have to engage in conversations with one another if you’re friends.”

Tom looked at her, “Do you know how beautiful you are when you smile? You don’t smile nearly enough, Sara.”

She looked down at the table and started to twist her napkin. “Thanks. You really are a flirt.”

“Not flirting, just honest. I’m not going to push you, Sara. I want your friendship and more than anything; your trust.” He waved the waiter over to pay the bill. “Do what you need but you should be happier.”

Sara waited while Tom helped her into her coat, and on the ride home she thought about everything they said. She faced the fact that she was lonely. Complete and utterly alone. As solitary as a figure she was in Vegas, at least she had her coworkers. And over time they had become her family. Two years ago they had faced their own mortality with the kidnapping of Nick and that had dealt her a personal blow. That was a defining moment in her life and she had dissected its implications in her mind and this is where it had led her. To this cold, unwilling city on the other side of the country. Why did she think she could leave behind the ghosts of her past and run? Where would she end up? To a time before university, before Las Vegas, before Grissom? If she could do it, would she take back all those years and do them differently? Sara knew better than that. She would have done it all over again. He was her man. Through and through. She would love him where ever he was and she was only just starting to realize this.

She realized with a start that they were outside her brownstone. Tom was moving around the car to open the door. She clasped his extended hand and he shut the door behind her. He held her elbow lightly as he accompanied her to her doorstep. A light snow had started to fall and Tom lightly brushed her hair off her face. He placed the flat of his palm against her cheek and leaned down to kiss her other cheek. “Sara, you have to do what will make you the happiest. Staying, leaving, learning from all this. Whatever you do, let me be there for you. In whatever capacity you need me to be.”

Sara just smiled up at him, those blue, blue eyes. “Thank you, Tom. You have no idea what that means to me.”

“Good night then.”

Tom turned to leave and Sara watched from the doorstep as his car faded into the night.

She didn’t see the solitary figure standing on the corner, the streetlamp silhouetting his profile.

original post

[CSI] A Call to Darkness 2/4

marcasite — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 17:21:32 GMT

A Call to Darkness
Sara/Grissom, 1863 words, PG-13,
Leaving this city meant leaving Grissom behind.
Part 1

Sara had asked Grissom to allow her the chance to tell the others. Finding herself sitting on a bench in the locker room, she took deep breaths trying to gather the strength to put into words the fact that she was really leaving. Overcoming her biggest hurdle was in telling Grissom, but everyone else had become, in a way, her family. Disappointing and losing them was her biggest fear. Not knowing how they would react, she just hoped that they would support her and she could tell them without words how much she would miss all of them.

Walking through the dimly lit corridor of the lab, Sara didn’t run into anyone as she made her way to the break room situated at the end of the hall. She stood in the doorway for a brief second taking in everyone as they ate and joked with each other. She would miss these guys, more than she thought possible. Greg with his ever evolving hairstyles and beguiling sense of humor, Warrick with his gorgeous eyes and sense of self-righteousness, and Nick, loaded with charm. She felt a compression on her chest and struggled to maintain her composure.

It was Nick who saw her in the doorway and waved her over. “Sara, waiting for an invitation?”

She just dropped her hands into her coat pocket and shrugged her shoulders. “Nope, actually I was looking for you guys.” She moved closer to the table where they sat. She took a seat and leaned back and struck, what she hoped was a casual pose. “I have something to share.”

Greg raised an eyebrow, “You’re not going to tell us you’ve run off and joined the traveling dance troupe…” His voice trailed off as he noticed the expression on Sara’s face. “Not leaving, right?”

“I accepted a position teaching on the East Coast and I’m going to start right after the holidays, I already told Grissom and I’m all set to go.” Sara let the words tumble out of her mouth, the faster she could say them, the sooner this would be over.

Silence greeted her announcement, their expressions relaying disbelief at her words. Warrick was the first to react, leaning over and slinging an arm around her shoulder. “Congratulations Sara, are you happy about the change?”

She tried to smile but it came out as more a lopsided grimace. “It’s something new for me, teaching, but I think I am ready for the challenge. I just hope they’re ready for me. Can you imagine me, a teacher?”

Warrick tilted his head back in a laugh. “I’m gonna miss you Sara. Who’s going to keep Greg…close your mouth, Greg.”

Greg was still staring at Sara, mouth still parted slightly. When he heard Warrick admonish him he snapped his mouth close. “When…when’s your last day?”

“Right after the holidays some time. I’ll have to pack over the next weeks or so and get things ready to be shipped. Not that I own a lot.” Sara shrugged her shoulders, while the room grew silent.

It was Nick who broke the awkward moment. He simply stood up and looked at Sara "You do what you have to do," turned and left. Greg and Warrick followed after him leaving her with a smile and a wave.

Nick's reaction stung her a bit. Of all people she expected him to understand her reasons. It wasn't like she was a crying, weeping beg-for-attention because she's leaving type of girl but she expected a little bit more from Nick.

+

The weeks traveled by quickly. Grissom, with Catherine's prodding, reluctantly hired another CSI to replace Sara. The crossover would be three weeks allowing everyone enough time to settle into a new routine. Greg had been thrilled, assuming the new person would be just that. The new guy, someone else to harass and something he wouldn’t be anymore. That is until he found out the new person was a highly successful CSI level three from the Los Angeles area. Greg pouted for days.

Sara found the days ticking by faster than she expected. She had barely spoken to Grissom since she handed in her resignation, almost as if he were avoiding her. Nick barely said two words to her in her presence and Greg stuck to her like glue. She missed Grissom, more than she cared to, and she hadn't even left yet. Even the tentative friendship they had formed over the past two years was preferable than this. Wondering if he was purposely avoiding her would accomplish nothing so she focused all her energy in bringing Kevin, the new CSI, up to speed. She discovered that his wife was an ER doctor that had recently transferred to Vegas and when the opportunity arose for him to follow her, he jumped at the chance. Kevin had a charming smile and a laid back demeanor that belied the intensity in his eyes. Sara knew he would mesh well with the team and reluctantly admitted to herself he would be a perfect addition.

Sara had not envisioned moving across the country would be so complicated; there was so much chaos in her apartment. Standing outside her bedroom door and staring into her apartment as far as the eye could see there were boxes strewn everywhere; piles of clothes, dishes, books laid out ready to be boxed. Moving into the middle of her apartment she wondered when she had accumulated so much stuff. She guessed the better part of ten years adds up fast. Where to begin? The knock on her door startled her out of her contemplation. She hesitated; it was rare that she received any visitors. Rare.

Peering out she saw Nick standing there holding two cups and a bag of what she assumed were bagels. She didn’t need to wonder why her heart was racing and why she felt a momentary flash of disappointment at the sight of Nick. He wasn’t Grissom. She still held out a small hope that he would avail himself to her; of their friendship before she walked out of his life because a small part of her knew that she wouldn’t work to maintain what was left of their shattered friendship. Leaving this city meant leaving Grissom and all that entailed.

She swung open the door and donned a broad smile, “Hey, Nick.”

He just smiled up at her, slightly sheepish, and handed her the hot beverages. “I came to help.” She took the drinks and waved him in. He glanced around the apartment. “Looks like you needed it.”

“Yeah, well…it kind of escaped a bit from me.” She shrugged. “I didn’t realize I had this much stuff.”

For the next several hours, walls were stripped, books packed in boxes and several years of Sara’s life were tucked away. They worked in companionable silence with an odd exclamation every now and then from Sara as she found something she had thought lost. Nick had to pry old photo albums away from her, as she was easily distracted. When Sara’s stomach grumbled at her for food, she looked down at her watch only to realize that most of the day had gone and dusk was settling in. “Pizza?” she called to Nick, who nodded his assent adding, “as long as there’s a lot of stuff on it.”

The smell of pizza enticed Nick to finish his box and stack it in the corner of the room along with the others. The room looked organized and sadly, ready to be moved out.

“I’m sorry about…” Sara cut him off. “It’s ok. I know.”

Nick shook his head, “No, it’s not ok. I was a jerk and you should call me on it. I just want to make sure you’re doing this for the right reasons, Sara. That this is really what you want.”

Sara finished her pizza and balled her napkin up. Standing up, she brought her dish into the kitchen and turned to stare back at Nick. “I came here for all the wrong reasons but I’m leaving for the right ones.”

“Can you be so sure?”

“For the first time, I can say that confidently. Honestly Nick, I didn’t seek out this opportunity although I think a part of me has been waiting for it. This is good, believe me. Don’t think for one minute I won’t miss you guys. I will, terribly. I have to do this. It’s time.” The last was said on a softer note, which Nick did not miss. The whole thing was insane to him so he just let it go. Whatever she needed, he would be there to help her with.

“Let’s get this wrapped up, shall we? Rumor has it there’s going to be some people over at the bar later tonight to start the holiday celebrations. Wanna go?”

Sara looked up at Nick. She had forgotten it was the holiday season; the days had simply melded together, one after the other. “I’d like that.” And was rewarded with Nick’s smile.

+

On her last day, Sara spent the day trying to avoid the obligatory farewell parties. She had said her private good-byes with her friends and had just left Brass’s office after turning her weapon in. He had simply patted her shoulder and wished her luck. He didn’t mention Grissom or her decision to leave. It hadn’t come as a surprise to him, knowing it was inevitable, but he wondered if she realized how much Grissom would miss her when she had gone. He had a feeling that the Scotch hidden in his bottom drawer would be put to good use soon. Turning the corner, on her way out, she ran into Grissom. He stood in front of her, brandishing a clipboard. “Sara. Do you have a minute?”

She took a step towards him, “Now? I was just leaving.”

“It will only take a minute.” He motioned for her to precede him into his office. Sara sighed and made her way in. He stood behind his desk and Sara waited for him. Honestly, it felt like she was always waiting for him.

“Ecklie just wanted me to make sure that you had turned your weapon into Brass and left your badge here.”

Sara just stared at him, eyebrow arched. She was starting to get angry and was elated that she finally had the freedom to feel this upset. “Grissom, you don’t talk to me save for a few words in weeks and as I am walking out the door for the last time you stop me to talk about whether or not I turned my weapon in. What do you think?” She took a breath, “Do you think, for a friend, a good-bye, best of luck might have been a lot to ask?”

Grissom stared at her, slightly surprised. “Sara, I don’t know what to say.” He shifted awkwardly. “I hope you love your new job and it’s what you really want to do.”

“See that’s just it, Grissom. Sometimes it’s not about what you say or how you say it. There are times it just boils down to when you say it.” With that, Sara turned and left Las Vegas behind her.

original post

[CSI] A Call to Darkness 1/4

marcasite — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 17:18:13 GMT

A Call to Darkness
Sara/Grissom, 1620 words, PG-13,
Leaving this city meant leaving Grissom behind.

The air had turned brisk and she watched as the leaves danced across her eyesight; swirling around in a dazzling display of color and poetry. She leaned back on the park bench she was occupying and tugged lightly on the scarf tied loosely around her neck. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of early fall; something she had missed all the years living in Las Vegas. No other season compared to fall in its richness and diversity. Sara smiled to herself. Actually it was nice to experience a season other than hot and dry. It had been a very long time.

The letter had appeared one day in her mail. What she thought was another innocuous mix of catalogs and pre-approved credit card applications had given way to the legal size letter with a college embossed on the front. She thought she knew what it was. Leaving it lying on her kitchen island she walked away from the letter, unopened, and the ramifications she knew hid behind its seal. It stayed there, untouched, for three days. On the morning of the third day she finally plucked up the courage to address the letter. With slightly shaking hands, she opened the letter and withdrew the note from inside. It was a request from an east coast college to fly, at their expense, to their campus and interview for a teaching position. She was, the letter acknowledged, highly skilled in her profession and they were eager to ascertain if she would be interested in teaching those skills to others. Her track record spoke for itself and she had come highly recommended.

Sara’s curiosity had been piqued all the while she had felt a stone settling itself deep in her stomach. This was the out she had been looking for. Or so she thought. Now that her out presented itself so clearly to her, she was hesitant to deal with it. If she did, it would make it real. It wasn’t until three days later that she gathered the courage to call the name and number at the bottom of the letter. Tom Matthews. His voice was pleasant and soon Sara had found herself agreeing to fly out to meet him next week. She knew with that phone call, she would be on the precipice of something life changing and was terrified.

Later, when Sara spoke to Grissom in order to request personal time, her perception of his indifference, reassured her that she had done the right thing. He had merely glanced at her, nodding his head in approval. He neither took the time to address her directly nor asked her anything that he would deem to personal. This only reinforced Sara’s determination to have a successful trip. Strangely enough, she found herself looking forward to the trip. The East Coast was nothing if not beautiful in the fall.

So, on this crisp autumn afternoon, Sara found herself sitting on a park bench, watching leaves tumble around. She glanced at her watch and realized that it was time to go. This was it, the moment that could potentially change her life. She walked swiftly through the park and hailed a cab that would lead her to the college.

The ride was not long enough to dissipate her nervousness. She entered the college building and had to keep reminding herself that it was just brick and mortar. Her concession to the interview was in slight pumps and tailored slacks. Not her everyday attire. Her heels clicked mutely on the floor as she made her way to the elevators. The envelope had indicated that Mr. Matthews was on the third floor.

Upon arriving on the third floor, Sara was greeted by his assistant with a soft smile, “Sara Sidle?” At Sara’s nod of ascension the assistant continued, “You can go right in, he’s been expecting you.”

Music drifted softly out of a stereo situated behind the professor’s desk. He stood up as Sara approached his desk and offered his hand. Sara has never been the type of woman to care about her looks or carry around a handbag, but just this once she wished she had a comb, or moisturizing lotion so he wouldn’t have to feel her dry hands when they shook. She was surprised at her attraction to this stranger. Maybe it was the eyes. Blue eyes that reminded her of Grissom. She felt a pang of regret at the thought of him. Would he miss her? She silently berated herself for once again thinking of Grissom and turn to look at the man standing before her. His black hair was thickly laced with grey and she discovered his eyes weren’t really blue; more aquamarine which appeared to change colors as the light them. Different. He extended his hand to the chair in front of his desk and Sara sat down.

Sara listed to Tom talk to her about the details of the job and all the benefits. She dimly heard him enumerate about how excited they were that she was considering leaving Las Vegas. For the first time in so many years, Sara felt herself becoming a ‘devil may care’ type of woman and could feel it rushing through her system. She was going to do this. She was going to leave and start over. This time there was no one else involved. She was leaving on her own terms for the right reasons.

Why did she feel like her heart was breaking in two?

She realized that Tom had stopped talking and was staring at her. She smiled to cover her awkwardness and he leaned closer to her, “The job is yours; if you want it.”

Sara smiled broadly, “I accept. When do you need me to start?”

+

On the flight back to Vegas, Sara stared out the window and thought about what she had committed to. She had known even before she had boarded the plane, that she was going to take this job and now she had to go back to Vegas and face this, this vortex of change she had instilled on herself. She had a lot to accomplish over the next few weeks. She would stay in Vegas through the holidays and start her new job after winter break. It gave her a little time. She wondered how much she would need to get over him.

Her mind wandered over the various scenarios that could happen and wondered if anything could make her change her mind. Would Grissom confess his undying love and devotion to her? Better yet, sweep her off her feet with elegant conversations comparing her to vast affection for his butterflies. Sara smiled broadly at these unlikely thoughts. Not Grissom. Her smile faded as she thought about how much she would miss him, probably for the rest of her life.

+

Sara stopped outside his office door with a letter clutched desperately in her hand. She paused and took a deep breath. She could do this, could get through this. She knocked and smiled as she walked in, “Grissom, do you have a minute?”

He looked up over his glasses at her and nodded. She sank into the seat in front of his desk and handed him the letter. He looked at her quizzically and started to open it. Sara started to speak, words rushing out so she could say what she had been practicing for two days. “I got this really great opportunity that I could not pass up. I felt it was time for me to make a change in both my career and my personal life. Over the past few two years, I discovered how much I enjoyed teaching Greg and watching him develop has been a pleasure I wasn’t expecting. I’m hoping to experience that reward by accepting this teaching job.”

She took a breath and stared at Grissom. His hand had stopped, letter partially in envelope and he simply looked back at her. She took heart in his silence and realized that once again she had surprised him. She waited for him to say anything.

“Sara…um, this comes as a surprise. I didn’t realize that you had been looking for another position.” Grissom frowned slightly as he retracted the rest of the letter and started to read the contents. He looked up at her and she could see the echo of sadness reflected in his eyes.

“I wasn’t looking, Grissom. It came to me and honestly, it feels right. Also, its more than two weeks, I won’t be leaving until the end of December so that gives you almost two months.” Sara paused, “Unless of course, you need me to leave sooner.”

Grissom started at that. “No Sara.” He seemed too stumbled over his words, unsure of how or what to say. “We, I would appreciate you staying while….we look for a suitable replacement.” He leaned back, seemingly satisfied with what he said.

Sara inwardly winced at the sound of replacement coming from Grissom. She knew that this was going to hurt and just wanted to leave without breaking down in front of him. She smiled and stood up to leave. “Thanks Grissom. Whatever I can do….”

She turned to leave and almost made it to the door when she heard Grissom call out to her. “Sara, all these years…I mean we, you and I, we’re still friends, right?”

She smiled sadly at him. This was the giant declaration that she had not been holding her breath for. “Yes, Grissom, we’re still friends. I never asked you to stop.” She left, knowing that she had made the right decision. It was time to go.

Grissom stared after her, “And I never told you how I felt.”

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