Writing Meme
I've done this before. And I'm doing this again. Just because I can.
Post a sentence (or two or a paragraph) from as many of your Work in Progress stories as you want, with no explanation attached.
Just like last time, I won’t be able to stick with a sentence or a paragraph. Oh, well. That's what LJ cuts are for. Most of these are fanfiction. One is an actual completely original story that I have never, ever shown to anyone.
Snippet One:
It was rare that Frank James found himself at a loss for words. Growing up with Jesse and their cousins, they had each had their niche. Jesse was the impulsive one, Bob was the funny one, Cole was the one with the hot temper, and Frank? Frank was the scholar. His mother had once assured him that he came by it honestly. She had practically devoured books when she was younger, before the responsibilities of being a wife and mother severely limited any free time she might have once possessed.
‘Did you think the Bible was the only thing I ever read, son?’ she asked when he had expressed surprise upon learning of her past dealings with literature.
He was the voice of reason, the diplomat in their tightly knit group while they were growing up and even after they had reached adulthood. Considering how often Cole and Jesse were at loggerheads with one another, in spite of the fact that they had a strong bond of friendship, it was for the best that Frank could easily think of the right thing to say at almost any point in time. The ‘big words’ Cole so often accused him of using too much came in very handy on more than one occasion.
So Frank had a peculiar feeling of dread as he watched the modest homestead from a distance. He was finally here after three days of riding. Three days during which he had thought of practically nothing but reaching his destination and, hopefully, attaining the only thing that mattered to him now that he was done with the gang and assured of a safe place to make a new life.
Now that he was here, though, he had no idea what he was going to say. Being the ‘scholar’ of the group had proved incredibly useful once they all reached the age where they started noticing girls. Jesse’s grin broke more than a few hearts. The confidence that practically emanated from Cole had girls flocking around him. Bob’s easygoing manner attracted women quickly. And Frank had rapidly discovered that members of the opposite sex were charmed by all his romantic literary quotes.
All those quotes seemed ridiculously cliché now that he was so close to his goal. He watched the house nervously, willing himself to think of something. The sun was beginning to set and she would be coming up the hill shortly, eager for the few minutes in the day she could actually be alone. Would she be happy to see him or would he get another slap in the face? Frank breathed a silent prayer, probably for the thousandth time since he started his journey, that it would be the former. She was so unpredictable at times, he just wasn’t at all sure of her reaction.
His breath stilled when he saw the side door of the house swing open. Muffled sounds came out, no doubt the Bradley children as they settled in to eat their supper. A moment later she emerged, carrying a small basket she had packed for her own meal in one hand and a book in the other. He smiled at the sight, too distracted by the scene in front of him to remember that he was in plain view of her as well. She glanced up at the top of the hill and froze when she saw him. For one terrible moment, he was sure she would turn around and go back inside.
When he looked back on the day in question, Frank would never be able to recall just exactly how it happened. All he could remember was that she was at the bottom of the hill one minute, staring up at him, and the next minute she was in his arms, her own arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her mouth whispering a string of words in his ear that he was fairly certain he would never understand.
Then he pulled away from her. And she slapped him.
Yes, when he looked back on the day in question, Frank James had no idea why he didn’t think of the fact that he might get slapped whether she was happy to see him or not.
Snippet Two:
“Well, it’s good to see we’re all here,” Hammond said as he entered the briefing room from his office. To everyone’s surprise, Colonel O’Neill and Major Feretti, the commander of SG3, followed close behind.
Mick looked around the room, pretty sure they were missing someone. Of course, there was no rule that said there had to be four members on an SG team. But he sure hadn’t counted on being the only military member of his. And while the curly-haired guy sitting across from him looked like he could at least hold his own, Mick would bet good money that the red head one seat over from him had never even seen a fight, much less been in one. Easily intimidated, that one. The fact that she wouldn’t meet his eyes for more than two seconds told him that. Cause for concern, but they’d deal with that later on. For now….yeah, he was gonna need more help than this.
“Sir?”
Hammond looked up from his files at the same time Mick glanced back at the redhead. Huh. He hadn’t expected her to be the first to speak up.
“Yes, Dr. Hurst?”
Dr. Hurst. Okay, he could easily remember that.
“I don’t mean to sound presumptuous, but I was under the impression there would be four members on SG23. I have four files here.”
She was British! Interesting. Now that was another surprise.
“Not presumptuous at all, Doctor,” Hammond assured her. “Major Whitney had been unavoidably detained. A small family emergency, I’m afraid. She was hoping to get here by this afternoon, but I received a phone call from her earlier today. She’ll be arriving in the morning.”
Family emergency?
“ ‘She’?” O’Neill interjected with obvious surprise.
“God, Jack. You really never do read any files that cross your desk, do you?” Daniel asked as he strolled in and took the seat between Mick and Dr. Hurst. Mick didn’t miss the reassuring smile thrown her way.
“Why are all of you here?” Jack asked as the rest of SG1 and SG3 made their way into the briefing room and sat down.
“We took a vote, sir,” this from Captain Lorne, who flashed a grin and a wink at Dr. Hurst as he sat down across from her. To Mick’s surprise, she merely grinned back.
“Oh, isn’t that nice, Feretti? They took a vote,” O’Neill’s tone sounded annoyed. Mick knew him better than that. The mocking continued. “This isn’t a democracy, Captain.”
“On the contrary, O’Neill,” Teal’c spoke up from his seat at the other end of the table. “Is that not what came of the war between the minute men and the Redshirts?”
Everyone looked at O’Neill expectantly, not daring to laugh. Although even Hammond looked somewhat amused at this turn in the conversation.
“Um…yes. Yes, T. That’s right. Except it’s Redcoats, big guy. Not Redshirts.”
“As you say, O’Neill.”
Was that a hint of mirth in the Jaffa’s eyes? Mick couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t good at reading Teal’c’s moods yet, and it was gone as quickly as it came.
“Well, the next time you people take a vote, be sure you vote to get here on time,” Hammond reasserted himself as the man in charge, resulting in a chorus of sharp ‘Yes, sir’s around the table.
“And back to my original question,” Jack spoke up again. Mick wondered if anyone else heard Hammond sigh. “I did read the file. It said ‘Major TJ Whitney, USMC’, very clearly and in big, black letters.”
“No, Jack. You read the cover of the file,” Daniel countered, using the patronizing tone that he knew Jack couldn’t stand. Mick suppressed a smile. He could seriously listen to these two argue all day. Hours of free entertainment. Daniel went on. “If you’d bothered to actually open the file, you’d have seen that her full name is Tierra Jael Whitney.”
Unusual name.
“Now what kind of fruitcake name is that?” Jack asked.
“Spanish,” Daniel informed him.
“And Hebrew,” the curly-haired man added. Daniel looked at him in surprise and then nodded.
“And Hebrew,” he confirmed.
“And if we’re done discussing the ethnic origins of Major Whitney’s name, I’d like to get to the actual purpose of this briefing. That is of course if you don’t mind, gentlemen.”
All three men had the grace to look chagrined and after each apology was uttered, Hammond went on.
Snippet Three:
From her vantage point in the tree, Lesley reflected that she was almost jealous of her friend. Alistair did get on her nerves at times, but there was no denying that he was one of the handsomest men Lesley had ever known. She grinned slightly as she watched him emerge from the river. She couldn’t really see anything, of course. It was far too dark. But the whole point of this plan was to catch Alistair off guard. If HE thought she’d seen anything…well, she couldn’t help THAT.
Clad only in brown leggings, holding a tunic in his hands, Alistair emerged from the brush next to the river and started back towards the camp. He was whistling as he walked towards her location. A cheery and ribald Ferelden tune that Lesley was fairly certain wasn’t taught to young boys growing up in the Chantry. She smirked, wondering who in the group was responsible for Alistair’s knowledge of the song. Oghren seemed the most likely culprit. When he was only a few feet away, Lesley sprung her trap.
“Hello, Alistair!” she called out cheerily.
“Sweet Andraste’s knickers!” the former Templar swore in surprise, dropping the clean tunic on the forest floor.
“Tsk tsk,” Lesley tutted. She swung down from the branch, dropping just in front of her fellow Grey Warden. His eyes narrowed at her as she retrieved the tunic from the ground. “Didn’t you just wash this one last night?” she inquired. “We’re not always lucky enough to camp so close to a clean river these days. You should be more careful, Alistair.”
He growled and snatched the tunic away from her when she held it out to him. In spite of the fact that she had actually come to have a serious conversation with the man, Lesley found that she was enjoying herself quite a bit. Realizing he was at a disadvantage, Alistair flushed beet red and shrugged into the no longer clean tunic. She snickered, finding his embarrassment charming, and he scowled.
“Can I help you?” he muttered.
She sobered a little, figuring that it was best to tackle the problem head on instead of beating around the bush.
“I want to talk to you about Tierney,” she began.
“Is this the part where you threaten to chop my head off for daring to speak to your best friend?” Alistair asked, his mouth quirking up in one corner.
Maker, what a time for his sense of humor to crop up. Now she was in full protective mode.
“I’ll chop off something much dearer to you if you hurt her, Alistair,” she informed him, her green eyes flashing fire.
Alistair’s eyebrows shot up and he held his hands in front of him in a placating gesture. She knew he had only been joking, but the protectiveness she felt towards Terreis had always been one of the few areas where she had virtually no control over her temper. At least her demeanor had the desired effect of Alistair taking the conversation seriously.
“I have absolutely no intention of hurting her, Lesley. She’s one of the…she…I…” he trailed off, looking away. Lesley smiled a little.
“No one has ever done such a thorough job of reassuring me without actually saying something,” she informed him.
His eyes snapped back to hers, sure she was teasing him again. But Lesley was quite serious. The mere fact that Alistair couldn’t quite put his thoughts concerning Tierney into words was actually very reassuring. It confirmed what she had already suspected. This was no mere flirtation for Alistair. Still, there were things which needed to be discussed.
"She would put an arrow through my eye if she knew what I was about to tell you," Lesley continued. "I already feel guilty for what I'm about to say. It should be something that you hear from her."
Snippet Four:
“You look as though you have something on your mind.”
Padme turned at the voice and smiled when she met Obi-Wan’s eyes. Shrugging a little, she turned her attention back to the view.
“Not really. Just taking a little time to enjoy the scenery,” she felt him brush past as he came up and stood beside her against the railing of the balcony. Ignoring the strange rhythm of her heart, she continued. “I always like coming to Alderaan. It…it helps especially if I’m feeling homesick for Naboo.”
Now why did she tell him that? Not that she’d never alluded to it in their correspondence, of course. But it just sounded so strange to admit it out loud. Obi-Wan knew that she had only left Naboo a week ago. She had been home for the birth of Sola’s second child. In fact she had sent him a holovid of images from the christening and the small gathering afterwards. He didn’t seem dismissive of her homesickness, though. And his next words surprised her.
“Sometimes, I miss the Jedi Temple the most when I’ve just left it. When I know I won’t be back for a while. I’ll be there a bit longer than usual when I return this time, though. No missions for a little while.”
Now she looked over at him and grinned.
“You’ve decided to take a padawan.”
He nodded.
“I feel like it’s time. I think I’ve got a firmer grasp on what it means to have a padawan. It will definitely be an adjustment. I’ve gotten used to living alone, making my own decisions without having to consider anyone else’s thoughts on the subject. The only thing is that I feel like most of the younglings are intimidated by me. Perhaps no one will want me as a master…”
She heard the note of doubt in his voice and shook her head.
“You’ll be a wonderful master, Obi-Wan. Any of the younglings would be lucky to have you. And somehow, I doubt that they’re intimidated by you. I think perhaps that ‘awed’ would be a better description. After all, you’re built up in their heads as the Jedi padawan who defeated a Sith. They don’t know much beyond that. How could they? You’re never really at the Temple long enough for them to get to know you.”
Obi-Wan gave her a slightly amused look and turned his whole body towards her, leaning on the railing with his elbow. She responded in kind, turning to face him.
“Are you scolding me, Senator? I believe I’ve heard all this from you before.” He saw her purse her lips slightly and felt the concern that stirred within her. Without even thinking about it, he reached out and put his hand over hers on the balcony railing. It was a gesture of reassurance…of friendship. And so he brushed away the sudden rush of longing that coursed through him when their skin made contact, dismissing it as simple attraction. After all, he was a man and Padme had grown into a very lovely young woman. He would have to be blind not to notice that.
He plunged ahead with a verbal reassurance, so intent on reassuring her that he completely missed the slight blush that colored her cheeks.
“As I’ve told you before, Padme, I am always careful. I never go into danger needlessly. Unfortunately, for a Jedi, danger seems to come with the territory at times.”
She smiled at him serenely, her expression the exact opposite of what she was feeling inside. His hand was warm on hers and she had an extraordinary moment of wondering if his lips would be even warmer. The thought brought an even deeper flush to her face and she looked away from him once more. Desperate to change the subject, she grasped at the reason they were on Alderaan in the first place.
Snippet Five:
The next day, Garrus was beginning to wish he had asked Shepard about her strange behavior. The whole experience still puzzled him and he was finding it hard to concentrate on his calibrations. He had a sudden urge to find out just exactly what had happened and he recognized that he wouldn’t be getting any work done until he did.
Unfortunately, Shepard had left the Normandy early that morning and Garrus knew for a fact she wouldn’t be back for hours. Kasumi and Jack were both on Ilium and the three women had made plans for an entire day of what Shepard called ‘girl stuff’. Personally, Garrus highly doubted that Jack ever did anything remotely resembling what could be called ‘girl stuff’. Then again, considering how confused he was about Shepard’s own behavior, he couldn’t exactly call himself an expert on the human female mind.
At any rate, he wasn’t going to interrupt the first completely carefree shore leave she’d had since they’d left Earth. Not for this. He racked his brain, trying to come up with someone he could talk to. Surely there was someone on board who could help him understand.
Chakwas and Traynor had gone ashore for some medical supplies, taking Vega and Edi with them as both bodyguards and manual labor. Ken was in the medbay with something called the flu, so Gabby had just finished working a double shift in engineering and was currently putting in some well-deserved sleep. Garrus wasn’t about to wake her. The thought of actually contacting Tali on Rannoch or Liara on Thessia II occurred to him. They weren’t human, but at least they were female. He pushed that thought aside. Tali and Liara had enough on their minds without being bothered with questions about something this trivial.
Garrus sighed. He was almost ashamed to admit that he didn’t know the rest of the crew well enough to feel comfortable asking something like this. Cursing under his breath, Garrus took the only other option available to him. Before he could lose his nerve, he stepped out of the main battery and headed for the observation deck.
***********
“Come on. We all know you guys went out last night. How did it go?”
Garrus paused on the walkway, wondering who Joker was talking to.
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
So Kaidan was here. That would explain why he hadn’t been on the observation deck when Garrus went there.
“Ah, so you DID play ‘Hide the Pyjak’. Alenko, you dog.”
Garrus rolled his eyes before stepping onto the bridge to find Alenko sitting in the seat usually occupied by EDI. Subtlety had never been Joker’s strong point, but ‘Hide the Pyjak’? Really?
“Joker, if the Alliance paid you more, do you think you could be a little more disgusting?” Kaidan inquired.
“Well…I could certainly use the money.”
That actually earned a chuckle from Alenko and even Garrus was amused.
“Garrus! What brings you up here to my humble abode?” Joker asked, his chair turning to face Garrus. Kaidan turned sideways in his own seat, surprised that Joker noticed the turian before he had.
Suddenly, it seemed like this was a worse idea than Garrus originally thought. He stared at the two men as an uncomfortable silence settled over the area. Kaidan and Joker exchanged confused glances before looking back up at the former C-Sec officer.
“Normandy to Garrus! Anyone home?”
“I…uh…” Garrus cursed inwardly. This shouldn’t be so hard. Why was he making such a big deal out of this whole thing?
Joker sighed.
“Ugh. Are you trying to warn us that you pissed off the Commander somehow before she left? Because I can tell you right now, Garrus. I have absolutely no desire to go through another argument between the two of you. Especially the portion where you make up afterwards.”
Garrus’ mandibles twitched slightly as he finally found his voice.
“Well, that’ll teach you to knock instead of just storming into the main battery,” he retorted.
“Hey! First of all, I can’t ‘storm’ anywhere so that’s hardly a fair way of putting it,” Joker puffed up in his seat a little. “Secondly, and I seem to remember explaining this to you already, EDI had told me there was a problem in the main battery and she couldn’t get hold of you. I was concerned. And if I ever find out who helped her think up such a horrific practical joke, I’ll shoot them in the leg.”
Kaidan suddenly looked far too innocent for Garrus’ taste, but he decided to discuss THAT particular incident with the major later. Luckily, the small detour about the unfortunate encounter seemed to have helped him loosen up a little.
“Something happened last night while I was with Shepard. Something I don’t really understand,” he confessed, leaning up against a corner.
“Aw, Garrus. Don’t feel bad. Every woman fakes it sooner or later,” Joker spoke in a slightly patronizing tone.
“Yeah, you would know about that, wouldn’t you, Joker?” There was a small crackle of biotic energy as Kaidan spoke and Joker’s hat fell to the ground. The pilot scowled.
“Using biotics is cheating,” he complained, leaning over and swiping his hat off the floor. He made a mock show of dusting it off, prompting an eye roll from Alenko.
“So what happened, Garrus?” Kaidan asked. “I thought you two were just having dinner and watching ‘Field of Dreams’.”
How did Kaidan know that?
“She told me about it while we were target shooting yesterday afternoon. It’s one of my favorite films. I thought you might like it. Didn’t you?”
Oh. Had he asked that out loud? Garrus shook his head.
“No, I liked the movie. Once she explained the tradition of this…baseball game to me. But towards the end, she behaved...oddly.”
Kaidan nodded.
“She cried,” he stated as though he wasn’t at all surprised. Garrus stared at him.
“How did you know?” the turian inquired.
Snippet Six (and the only one which is a fully original work of mine):
She should feel something. As she held her sobbing sister, Allyria knew she should feel more than just the small twinges of grief and regret that pricked at her conscience. Everyone would be watching her. Everyone would be curious to see their mysterious new queen.
Queen.
It was a title she was never meant to have, a duty she had never truly been trained for during her upbringing. For five hundred years, only kings had been seated on the throne in Brae Castle. It was a situation which had led to the belief that women weren’t made to rule a kingdom. A queen’s place was by her king’s side to lend quiet support and in his bed to ensure the continuation of the royal line.
Everyone seemed to be at something of a loss regarding the current situation. Even the normally unflappable High Chancellor behaved as though he was slightly uncertain of his place in the universe. No one was contesting the validity of Allyria’s claim to the throne. She was the oldest of the five royal children. Her father only had one sister and two nieces. The male line of the royal family had effectively been eradicated within a matter of days. It was just all very strange and sudden.
When the youngest prince had developed a cold after hunting with his brothers, no one had been alarmed. The boy, although healthy in other respects, was prone to such mild afflictions. Life had carried on as usual, with the princes taking lessons together and appearing by their father’s side when he held court. So when the deceptively innocent cold took a sudden and violent turn for the worse, everyone had already been exposed. It was a truly vicious illness which swept with astonishing rapidity throughout the entire castle. No one, it seemed, was immune.
By the time the healers were able to concoct a treatment, both the youngest prince and the king had already succumbed to the disease. The oldest followed soon after. There were hopes for a few days when the second-born prince seemed to rally, but it all proved to be in vain.
Allyria and her sister, Rhielle, were far from Brae Castle when everything transpired. Their mother had died soon after giving birth to Rhielle. When their father remarried a year later, the new queen saw the girls as a threat to her own unborn children and convinced the king to send them away. So four year old Allyria and one year old Rhielle were packed up with a household and guard of their own. The girls had lived most of their lives in a small estate near the forest border, which separated Braewyth from the kingdom of Thaleni.
They grew up there, occasionally visited by their father during the first few years. After the birth of his second son, the king’s visits suddenly stopped. Allyria had been particularly hurt by this turn of events and decided at the tender age of eight that no one outside of her little family in the estate could be trusted.
In spite of the fact that she resented her father and had never even met her brothers, Allyria just KNEW she was a horrible person for not feeling more sorrow upon learning of their deaths. Rhielle had burst into tears on the spot, immediately seeking comfort in her sister’s arms. Now, Allyria held her while staring down at the High Chancellor, who had come to deliver the news and was still kneeling in front of her, paying homage to the new ruler of Braewyth.
Somewhere behind Allyria, one of the attendants cleared her throat. Right. She had to tell him to stand. Panic flashed through her mind briefly as she searched for the proper phrasing.
“You may rise,” she managed to say, wincing when her voice squeaked. She wasn’t at all sure that’s what she was supposed to say.
It seemed to work, however. The High Chancellor stood and looked at Allyria for what seemed like a long time before shifting his gaze slightly to the still sobbing Rhielle. The new queen puzzled over this for a few seconds before realizing his intent. Whispering a few soft words of comfort to her sister, she managed to transfer Rhielle to the arms of her ladies’ maid nearby. The two women left the room and Allyria waited for the High Chancellor to speak.
He remained silent for a while longer, his eyes sweeping over the room in what seemed to be a casual manner. Allyria suspected he was looking for something. Just what exactly he was looking for was certainly unclear. There were no hidden passages in her home, no secret hidey-holes designed for someone to spy on a room’s occupants. Perhaps it was habit? What few memories she had of living in Brae Castle were almost faded to the point of non-existence. She couldn’t remember if such things existed in her former home. All she could clearly remember from that time in her life was her mother, Queen Aislynn, whose image she clung to with desperation at times.
“If you’ll permit me, Your Majesty,” soft and deep as his voice was, it still made her jump slightly as she was brought out of the past, “I would offer my condolences on the passing of your father and brothers.”
“Thank you,” she nodded slightly. Did he think her cold and unfeeling? Did he understand that, in her own heart, she had felt like an orphan since her father had stopped visiting? Letters had still come but Allyria had never replied and eventually began to send them back unopened. In time, correspondence for her had ceased. Rhielle had continued to write and she had done nothing to discourage her sister from it. Allyria herself, however, hadn’t been in contact with their father for nearly twelve years.
Out of habit, she lowered herself onto a nearby window seat, drawing her legs up under her. In the back of her mind, Allyria recognized that it wasn’t exactly a posture befitting royalty. She couldn’t find it in her to care too much at the moment. The High Chancellor took a seat in the chair nearest to her.
“Queen Mi-,” he caught himself on the name and cleared his throat, “Lady Mira still resides in Brae Castle. She is recovering from the illness very well, but I would recommend against moving her for a few weeks at least.”
Mira. So she had survived. Allyria had never liked her stepmother, even when she was just a lady-in-waiting to Queen Aislynn. She supposed it was a bit trite to not like one’s own stepmother. None of the old tales told of happy relationships between children and their stepparents. But it wasn’t something she had been able to reverse. It had been Mira’s idea to send the princesses away and Allyria had never really forgiven her.
She couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for the woman at the moment, though. Although Allyria doubted Mira had ever actually loved the king, she couldn’t imagine that the woman wouldn’t love her children. Her sons had been taken from her in almost the blink of an eye. The former queen might be recovering well enough physically, but Allyria figured the emotional toll would be much worse.
“Lady Mira may remain in the castle as long as she likes. She has been dealt a devastating blow and the familiar surroundings might help her to recover faster. I’ve no intention of turning her out. Brae Castle has been her home longer than it was mine,” Allyria tried to keep the note of bitterness from her voice towards the end, but it crept in anyway. If the High Chancellor noticed, he gave no sign.
“As you desire, Your Majesty. There are, of course, many matters that will need to be discussed before we depart for Brae Castle. I believe they can wait until tomorrow morning, however. I’m sure you wish to be with Princess Rhielle.”
She merely nodded in response, not bothering to deny the truth of his statement. Sensing her action as a dismissal, he rose and left the room. Before he could shut the door behind him, though, she called him back. She almost smiled at the puzzled look that crossed his features. It was a look she had become accustomed to during his sporadic visits to “check” on herself and her sister.
“Thank you, Chancellor Morann. I know you could’ve sent the news with someone else. It was kind of you to take the burden upon yourself.”
Her gratefulness was clearly unexpected judging by the surprise that flitted across his face. After a moment, he recovered.
“Not at all, Your Majesty. Good night.”
“Good night, Chancellor.”
It was only when she found herself utterly alone that Allyria began to feel the first tears prick the back of her eyes.
Okay. I'm done. Laterz!
~Mel
Post a sentence (or two or a paragraph) from as many of your Work in Progress stories as you want, with no explanation attached.
Just like last time, I won’t be able to stick with a sentence or a paragraph. Oh, well. That's what LJ cuts are for. Most of these are fanfiction. One is an actual completely original story that I have never, ever shown to anyone.
Snippet One:
It was rare that Frank James found himself at a loss for words. Growing up with Jesse and their cousins, they had each had their niche. Jesse was the impulsive one, Bob was the funny one, Cole was the one with the hot temper, and Frank? Frank was the scholar. His mother had once assured him that he came by it honestly. She had practically devoured books when she was younger, before the responsibilities of being a wife and mother severely limited any free time she might have once possessed.
‘Did you think the Bible was the only thing I ever read, son?’ she asked when he had expressed surprise upon learning of her past dealings with literature.
He was the voice of reason, the diplomat in their tightly knit group while they were growing up and even after they had reached adulthood. Considering how often Cole and Jesse were at loggerheads with one another, in spite of the fact that they had a strong bond of friendship, it was for the best that Frank could easily think of the right thing to say at almost any point in time. The ‘big words’ Cole so often accused him of using too much came in very handy on more than one occasion.
So Frank had a peculiar feeling of dread as he watched the modest homestead from a distance. He was finally here after three days of riding. Three days during which he had thought of practically nothing but reaching his destination and, hopefully, attaining the only thing that mattered to him now that he was done with the gang and assured of a safe place to make a new life.
Now that he was here, though, he had no idea what he was going to say. Being the ‘scholar’ of the group had proved incredibly useful once they all reached the age where they started noticing girls. Jesse’s grin broke more than a few hearts. The confidence that practically emanated from Cole had girls flocking around him. Bob’s easygoing manner attracted women quickly. And Frank had rapidly discovered that members of the opposite sex were charmed by all his romantic literary quotes.
All those quotes seemed ridiculously cliché now that he was so close to his goal. He watched the house nervously, willing himself to think of something. The sun was beginning to set and she would be coming up the hill shortly, eager for the few minutes in the day she could actually be alone. Would she be happy to see him or would he get another slap in the face? Frank breathed a silent prayer, probably for the thousandth time since he started his journey, that it would be the former. She was so unpredictable at times, he just wasn’t at all sure of her reaction.
His breath stilled when he saw the side door of the house swing open. Muffled sounds came out, no doubt the Bradley children as they settled in to eat their supper. A moment later she emerged, carrying a small basket she had packed for her own meal in one hand and a book in the other. He smiled at the sight, too distracted by the scene in front of him to remember that he was in plain view of her as well. She glanced up at the top of the hill and froze when she saw him. For one terrible moment, he was sure she would turn around and go back inside.
When he looked back on the day in question, Frank would never be able to recall just exactly how it happened. All he could remember was that she was at the bottom of the hill one minute, staring up at him, and the next minute she was in his arms, her own arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her mouth whispering a string of words in his ear that he was fairly certain he would never understand.
Then he pulled away from her. And she slapped him.
Yes, when he looked back on the day in question, Frank James had no idea why he didn’t think of the fact that he might get slapped whether she was happy to see him or not.
Snippet Two:
“Well, it’s good to see we’re all here,” Hammond said as he entered the briefing room from his office. To everyone’s surprise, Colonel O’Neill and Major Feretti, the commander of SG3, followed close behind.
Mick looked around the room, pretty sure they were missing someone. Of course, there was no rule that said there had to be four members on an SG team. But he sure hadn’t counted on being the only military member of his. And while the curly-haired guy sitting across from him looked like he could at least hold his own, Mick would bet good money that the red head one seat over from him had never even seen a fight, much less been in one. Easily intimidated, that one. The fact that she wouldn’t meet his eyes for more than two seconds told him that. Cause for concern, but they’d deal with that later on. For now….yeah, he was gonna need more help than this.
“Sir?”
Hammond looked up from his files at the same time Mick glanced back at the redhead. Huh. He hadn’t expected her to be the first to speak up.
“Yes, Dr. Hurst?”
Dr. Hurst. Okay, he could easily remember that.
“I don’t mean to sound presumptuous, but I was under the impression there would be four members on SG23. I have four files here.”
She was British! Interesting. Now that was another surprise.
“Not presumptuous at all, Doctor,” Hammond assured her. “Major Whitney had been unavoidably detained. A small family emergency, I’m afraid. She was hoping to get here by this afternoon, but I received a phone call from her earlier today. She’ll be arriving in the morning.”
Family emergency?
“ ‘She’?” O’Neill interjected with obvious surprise.
“God, Jack. You really never do read any files that cross your desk, do you?” Daniel asked as he strolled in and took the seat between Mick and Dr. Hurst. Mick didn’t miss the reassuring smile thrown her way.
“Why are all of you here?” Jack asked as the rest of SG1 and SG3 made their way into the briefing room and sat down.
“We took a vote, sir,” this from Captain Lorne, who flashed a grin and a wink at Dr. Hurst as he sat down across from her. To Mick’s surprise, she merely grinned back.
“Oh, isn’t that nice, Feretti? They took a vote,” O’Neill’s tone sounded annoyed. Mick knew him better than that. The mocking continued. “This isn’t a democracy, Captain.”
“On the contrary, O’Neill,” Teal’c spoke up from his seat at the other end of the table. “Is that not what came of the war between the minute men and the Redshirts?”
Everyone looked at O’Neill expectantly, not daring to laugh. Although even Hammond looked somewhat amused at this turn in the conversation.
“Um…yes. Yes, T. That’s right. Except it’s Redcoats, big guy. Not Redshirts.”
“As you say, O’Neill.”
Was that a hint of mirth in the Jaffa’s eyes? Mick couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t good at reading Teal’c’s moods yet, and it was gone as quickly as it came.
“Well, the next time you people take a vote, be sure you vote to get here on time,” Hammond reasserted himself as the man in charge, resulting in a chorus of sharp ‘Yes, sir’s around the table.
“And back to my original question,” Jack spoke up again. Mick wondered if anyone else heard Hammond sigh. “I did read the file. It said ‘Major TJ Whitney, USMC’, very clearly and in big, black letters.”
“No, Jack. You read the cover of the file,” Daniel countered, using the patronizing tone that he knew Jack couldn’t stand. Mick suppressed a smile. He could seriously listen to these two argue all day. Hours of free entertainment. Daniel went on. “If you’d bothered to actually open the file, you’d have seen that her full name is Tierra Jael Whitney.”
Unusual name.
“Now what kind of fruitcake name is that?” Jack asked.
“Spanish,” Daniel informed him.
“And Hebrew,” the curly-haired man added. Daniel looked at him in surprise and then nodded.
“And Hebrew,” he confirmed.
“And if we’re done discussing the ethnic origins of Major Whitney’s name, I’d like to get to the actual purpose of this briefing. That is of course if you don’t mind, gentlemen.”
All three men had the grace to look chagrined and after each apology was uttered, Hammond went on.
Snippet Three:
From her vantage point in the tree, Lesley reflected that she was almost jealous of her friend. Alistair did get on her nerves at times, but there was no denying that he was one of the handsomest men Lesley had ever known. She grinned slightly as she watched him emerge from the river. She couldn’t really see anything, of course. It was far too dark. But the whole point of this plan was to catch Alistair off guard. If HE thought she’d seen anything…well, she couldn’t help THAT.
Clad only in brown leggings, holding a tunic in his hands, Alistair emerged from the brush next to the river and started back towards the camp. He was whistling as he walked towards her location. A cheery and ribald Ferelden tune that Lesley was fairly certain wasn’t taught to young boys growing up in the Chantry. She smirked, wondering who in the group was responsible for Alistair’s knowledge of the song. Oghren seemed the most likely culprit. When he was only a few feet away, Lesley sprung her trap.
“Hello, Alistair!” she called out cheerily.
“Sweet Andraste’s knickers!” the former Templar swore in surprise, dropping the clean tunic on the forest floor.
“Tsk tsk,” Lesley tutted. She swung down from the branch, dropping just in front of her fellow Grey Warden. His eyes narrowed at her as she retrieved the tunic from the ground. “Didn’t you just wash this one last night?” she inquired. “We’re not always lucky enough to camp so close to a clean river these days. You should be more careful, Alistair.”
He growled and snatched the tunic away from her when she held it out to him. In spite of the fact that she had actually come to have a serious conversation with the man, Lesley found that she was enjoying herself quite a bit. Realizing he was at a disadvantage, Alistair flushed beet red and shrugged into the no longer clean tunic. She snickered, finding his embarrassment charming, and he scowled.
“Can I help you?” he muttered.
She sobered a little, figuring that it was best to tackle the problem head on instead of beating around the bush.
“I want to talk to you about Tierney,” she began.
“Is this the part where you threaten to chop my head off for daring to speak to your best friend?” Alistair asked, his mouth quirking up in one corner.
Maker, what a time for his sense of humor to crop up. Now she was in full protective mode.
“I’ll chop off something much dearer to you if you hurt her, Alistair,” she informed him, her green eyes flashing fire.
Alistair’s eyebrows shot up and he held his hands in front of him in a placating gesture. She knew he had only been joking, but the protectiveness she felt towards Terreis had always been one of the few areas where she had virtually no control over her temper. At least her demeanor had the desired effect of Alistair taking the conversation seriously.
“I have absolutely no intention of hurting her, Lesley. She’s one of the…she…I…” he trailed off, looking away. Lesley smiled a little.
“No one has ever done such a thorough job of reassuring me without actually saying something,” she informed him.
His eyes snapped back to hers, sure she was teasing him again. But Lesley was quite serious. The mere fact that Alistair couldn’t quite put his thoughts concerning Tierney into words was actually very reassuring. It confirmed what she had already suspected. This was no mere flirtation for Alistair. Still, there were things which needed to be discussed.
"She would put an arrow through my eye if she knew what I was about to tell you," Lesley continued. "I already feel guilty for what I'm about to say. It should be something that you hear from her."
Snippet Four:
“You look as though you have something on your mind.”
Padme turned at the voice and smiled when she met Obi-Wan’s eyes. Shrugging a little, she turned her attention back to the view.
“Not really. Just taking a little time to enjoy the scenery,” she felt him brush past as he came up and stood beside her against the railing of the balcony. Ignoring the strange rhythm of her heart, she continued. “I always like coming to Alderaan. It…it helps especially if I’m feeling homesick for Naboo.”
Now why did she tell him that? Not that she’d never alluded to it in their correspondence, of course. But it just sounded so strange to admit it out loud. Obi-Wan knew that she had only left Naboo a week ago. She had been home for the birth of Sola’s second child. In fact she had sent him a holovid of images from the christening and the small gathering afterwards. He didn’t seem dismissive of her homesickness, though. And his next words surprised her.
“Sometimes, I miss the Jedi Temple the most when I’ve just left it. When I know I won’t be back for a while. I’ll be there a bit longer than usual when I return this time, though. No missions for a little while.”
Now she looked over at him and grinned.
“You’ve decided to take a padawan.”
He nodded.
“I feel like it’s time. I think I’ve got a firmer grasp on what it means to have a padawan. It will definitely be an adjustment. I’ve gotten used to living alone, making my own decisions without having to consider anyone else’s thoughts on the subject. The only thing is that I feel like most of the younglings are intimidated by me. Perhaps no one will want me as a master…”
She heard the note of doubt in his voice and shook her head.
“You’ll be a wonderful master, Obi-Wan. Any of the younglings would be lucky to have you. And somehow, I doubt that they’re intimidated by you. I think perhaps that ‘awed’ would be a better description. After all, you’re built up in their heads as the Jedi padawan who defeated a Sith. They don’t know much beyond that. How could they? You’re never really at the Temple long enough for them to get to know you.”
Obi-Wan gave her a slightly amused look and turned his whole body towards her, leaning on the railing with his elbow. She responded in kind, turning to face him.
“Are you scolding me, Senator? I believe I’ve heard all this from you before.” He saw her purse her lips slightly and felt the concern that stirred within her. Without even thinking about it, he reached out and put his hand over hers on the balcony railing. It was a gesture of reassurance…of friendship. And so he brushed away the sudden rush of longing that coursed through him when their skin made contact, dismissing it as simple attraction. After all, he was a man and Padme had grown into a very lovely young woman. He would have to be blind not to notice that.
He plunged ahead with a verbal reassurance, so intent on reassuring her that he completely missed the slight blush that colored her cheeks.
“As I’ve told you before, Padme, I am always careful. I never go into danger needlessly. Unfortunately, for a Jedi, danger seems to come with the territory at times.”
She smiled at him serenely, her expression the exact opposite of what she was feeling inside. His hand was warm on hers and she had an extraordinary moment of wondering if his lips would be even warmer. The thought brought an even deeper flush to her face and she looked away from him once more. Desperate to change the subject, she grasped at the reason they were on Alderaan in the first place.
Snippet Five:
The next day, Garrus was beginning to wish he had asked Shepard about her strange behavior. The whole experience still puzzled him and he was finding it hard to concentrate on his calibrations. He had a sudden urge to find out just exactly what had happened and he recognized that he wouldn’t be getting any work done until he did.
Unfortunately, Shepard had left the Normandy early that morning and Garrus knew for a fact she wouldn’t be back for hours. Kasumi and Jack were both on Ilium and the three women had made plans for an entire day of what Shepard called ‘girl stuff’. Personally, Garrus highly doubted that Jack ever did anything remotely resembling what could be called ‘girl stuff’. Then again, considering how confused he was about Shepard’s own behavior, he couldn’t exactly call himself an expert on the human female mind.
At any rate, he wasn’t going to interrupt the first completely carefree shore leave she’d had since they’d left Earth. Not for this. He racked his brain, trying to come up with someone he could talk to. Surely there was someone on board who could help him understand.
Chakwas and Traynor had gone ashore for some medical supplies, taking Vega and Edi with them as both bodyguards and manual labor. Ken was in the medbay with something called the flu, so Gabby had just finished working a double shift in engineering and was currently putting in some well-deserved sleep. Garrus wasn’t about to wake her. The thought of actually contacting Tali on Rannoch or Liara on Thessia II occurred to him. They weren’t human, but at least they were female. He pushed that thought aside. Tali and Liara had enough on their minds without being bothered with questions about something this trivial.
Garrus sighed. He was almost ashamed to admit that he didn’t know the rest of the crew well enough to feel comfortable asking something like this. Cursing under his breath, Garrus took the only other option available to him. Before he could lose his nerve, he stepped out of the main battery and headed for the observation deck.
***********
“Come on. We all know you guys went out last night. How did it go?”
Garrus paused on the walkway, wondering who Joker was talking to.
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
So Kaidan was here. That would explain why he hadn’t been on the observation deck when Garrus went there.
“Ah, so you DID play ‘Hide the Pyjak’. Alenko, you dog.”
Garrus rolled his eyes before stepping onto the bridge to find Alenko sitting in the seat usually occupied by EDI. Subtlety had never been Joker’s strong point, but ‘Hide the Pyjak’? Really?
“Joker, if the Alliance paid you more, do you think you could be a little more disgusting?” Kaidan inquired.
“Well…I could certainly use the money.”
That actually earned a chuckle from Alenko and even Garrus was amused.
“Garrus! What brings you up here to my humble abode?” Joker asked, his chair turning to face Garrus. Kaidan turned sideways in his own seat, surprised that Joker noticed the turian before he had.
Suddenly, it seemed like this was a worse idea than Garrus originally thought. He stared at the two men as an uncomfortable silence settled over the area. Kaidan and Joker exchanged confused glances before looking back up at the former C-Sec officer.
“Normandy to Garrus! Anyone home?”
“I…uh…” Garrus cursed inwardly. This shouldn’t be so hard. Why was he making such a big deal out of this whole thing?
Joker sighed.
“Ugh. Are you trying to warn us that you pissed off the Commander somehow before she left? Because I can tell you right now, Garrus. I have absolutely no desire to go through another argument between the two of you. Especially the portion where you make up afterwards.”
Garrus’ mandibles twitched slightly as he finally found his voice.
“Well, that’ll teach you to knock instead of just storming into the main battery,” he retorted.
“Hey! First of all, I can’t ‘storm’ anywhere so that’s hardly a fair way of putting it,” Joker puffed up in his seat a little. “Secondly, and I seem to remember explaining this to you already, EDI had told me there was a problem in the main battery and she couldn’t get hold of you. I was concerned. And if I ever find out who helped her think up such a horrific practical joke, I’ll shoot them in the leg.”
Kaidan suddenly looked far too innocent for Garrus’ taste, but he decided to discuss THAT particular incident with the major later. Luckily, the small detour about the unfortunate encounter seemed to have helped him loosen up a little.
“Something happened last night while I was with Shepard. Something I don’t really understand,” he confessed, leaning up against a corner.
“Aw, Garrus. Don’t feel bad. Every woman fakes it sooner or later,” Joker spoke in a slightly patronizing tone.
“Yeah, you would know about that, wouldn’t you, Joker?” There was a small crackle of biotic energy as Kaidan spoke and Joker’s hat fell to the ground. The pilot scowled.
“Using biotics is cheating,” he complained, leaning over and swiping his hat off the floor. He made a mock show of dusting it off, prompting an eye roll from Alenko.
“So what happened, Garrus?” Kaidan asked. “I thought you two were just having dinner and watching ‘Field of Dreams’.”
How did Kaidan know that?
“She told me about it while we were target shooting yesterday afternoon. It’s one of my favorite films. I thought you might like it. Didn’t you?”
Oh. Had he asked that out loud? Garrus shook his head.
“No, I liked the movie. Once she explained the tradition of this…baseball game to me. But towards the end, she behaved...oddly.”
Kaidan nodded.
“She cried,” he stated as though he wasn’t at all surprised. Garrus stared at him.
“How did you know?” the turian inquired.
Snippet Six (and the only one which is a fully original work of mine):
She should feel something. As she held her sobbing sister, Allyria knew she should feel more than just the small twinges of grief and regret that pricked at her conscience. Everyone would be watching her. Everyone would be curious to see their mysterious new queen.
Queen.
It was a title she was never meant to have, a duty she had never truly been trained for during her upbringing. For five hundred years, only kings had been seated on the throne in Brae Castle. It was a situation which had led to the belief that women weren’t made to rule a kingdom. A queen’s place was by her king’s side to lend quiet support and in his bed to ensure the continuation of the royal line.
Everyone seemed to be at something of a loss regarding the current situation. Even the normally unflappable High Chancellor behaved as though he was slightly uncertain of his place in the universe. No one was contesting the validity of Allyria’s claim to the throne. She was the oldest of the five royal children. Her father only had one sister and two nieces. The male line of the royal family had effectively been eradicated within a matter of days. It was just all very strange and sudden.
When the youngest prince had developed a cold after hunting with his brothers, no one had been alarmed. The boy, although healthy in other respects, was prone to such mild afflictions. Life had carried on as usual, with the princes taking lessons together and appearing by their father’s side when he held court. So when the deceptively innocent cold took a sudden and violent turn for the worse, everyone had already been exposed. It was a truly vicious illness which swept with astonishing rapidity throughout the entire castle. No one, it seemed, was immune.
By the time the healers were able to concoct a treatment, both the youngest prince and the king had already succumbed to the disease. The oldest followed soon after. There were hopes for a few days when the second-born prince seemed to rally, but it all proved to be in vain.
Allyria and her sister, Rhielle, were far from Brae Castle when everything transpired. Their mother had died soon after giving birth to Rhielle. When their father remarried a year later, the new queen saw the girls as a threat to her own unborn children and convinced the king to send them away. So four year old Allyria and one year old Rhielle were packed up with a household and guard of their own. The girls had lived most of their lives in a small estate near the forest border, which separated Braewyth from the kingdom of Thaleni.
They grew up there, occasionally visited by their father during the first few years. After the birth of his second son, the king’s visits suddenly stopped. Allyria had been particularly hurt by this turn of events and decided at the tender age of eight that no one outside of her little family in the estate could be trusted.
In spite of the fact that she resented her father and had never even met her brothers, Allyria just KNEW she was a horrible person for not feeling more sorrow upon learning of their deaths. Rhielle had burst into tears on the spot, immediately seeking comfort in her sister’s arms. Now, Allyria held her while staring down at the High Chancellor, who had come to deliver the news and was still kneeling in front of her, paying homage to the new ruler of Braewyth.
Somewhere behind Allyria, one of the attendants cleared her throat. Right. She had to tell him to stand. Panic flashed through her mind briefly as she searched for the proper phrasing.
“You may rise,” she managed to say, wincing when her voice squeaked. She wasn’t at all sure that’s what she was supposed to say.
It seemed to work, however. The High Chancellor stood and looked at Allyria for what seemed like a long time before shifting his gaze slightly to the still sobbing Rhielle. The new queen puzzled over this for a few seconds before realizing his intent. Whispering a few soft words of comfort to her sister, she managed to transfer Rhielle to the arms of her ladies’ maid nearby. The two women left the room and Allyria waited for the High Chancellor to speak.
He remained silent for a while longer, his eyes sweeping over the room in what seemed to be a casual manner. Allyria suspected he was looking for something. Just what exactly he was looking for was certainly unclear. There were no hidden passages in her home, no secret hidey-holes designed for someone to spy on a room’s occupants. Perhaps it was habit? What few memories she had of living in Brae Castle were almost faded to the point of non-existence. She couldn’t remember if such things existed in her former home. All she could clearly remember from that time in her life was her mother, Queen Aislynn, whose image she clung to with desperation at times.
“If you’ll permit me, Your Majesty,” soft and deep as his voice was, it still made her jump slightly as she was brought out of the past, “I would offer my condolences on the passing of your father and brothers.”
“Thank you,” she nodded slightly. Did he think her cold and unfeeling? Did he understand that, in her own heart, she had felt like an orphan since her father had stopped visiting? Letters had still come but Allyria had never replied and eventually began to send them back unopened. In time, correspondence for her had ceased. Rhielle had continued to write and she had done nothing to discourage her sister from it. Allyria herself, however, hadn’t been in contact with their father for nearly twelve years.
Out of habit, she lowered herself onto a nearby window seat, drawing her legs up under her. In the back of her mind, Allyria recognized that it wasn’t exactly a posture befitting royalty. She couldn’t find it in her to care too much at the moment. The High Chancellor took a seat in the chair nearest to her.
“Queen Mi-,” he caught himself on the name and cleared his throat, “Lady Mira still resides in Brae Castle. She is recovering from the illness very well, but I would recommend against moving her for a few weeks at least.”
Mira. So she had survived. Allyria had never liked her stepmother, even when she was just a lady-in-waiting to Queen Aislynn. She supposed it was a bit trite to not like one’s own stepmother. None of the old tales told of happy relationships between children and their stepparents. But it wasn’t something she had been able to reverse. It had been Mira’s idea to send the princesses away and Allyria had never really forgiven her.
She couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for the woman at the moment, though. Although Allyria doubted Mira had ever actually loved the king, she couldn’t imagine that the woman wouldn’t love her children. Her sons had been taken from her in almost the blink of an eye. The former queen might be recovering well enough physically, but Allyria figured the emotional toll would be much worse.
“Lady Mira may remain in the castle as long as she likes. She has been dealt a devastating blow and the familiar surroundings might help her to recover faster. I’ve no intention of turning her out. Brae Castle has been her home longer than it was mine,” Allyria tried to keep the note of bitterness from her voice towards the end, but it crept in anyway. If the High Chancellor noticed, he gave no sign.
“As you desire, Your Majesty. There are, of course, many matters that will need to be discussed before we depart for Brae Castle. I believe they can wait until tomorrow morning, however. I’m sure you wish to be with Princess Rhielle.”
She merely nodded in response, not bothering to deny the truth of his statement. Sensing her action as a dismissal, he rose and left the room. Before he could shut the door behind him, though, she called him back. She almost smiled at the puzzled look that crossed his features. It was a look she had become accustomed to during his sporadic visits to “check” on herself and her sister.
“Thank you, Chancellor Morann. I know you could’ve sent the news with someone else. It was kind of you to take the burden upon yourself.”
Her gratefulness was clearly unexpected judging by the surprise that flitted across his face. After a moment, he recovered.
“Not at all, Your Majesty. Good night.”
“Good night, Chancellor.”
It was only when she found herself utterly alone that Allyria began to feel the first tears prick the back of her eyes.
Okay. I'm done. Laterz!
~Mel