The pieces that I am

She didn’t ask him (again) about it.

Honestly, it surprised him. The fact that she didn’t ask, didn’t pressure, didn’t tease or beleaguer him. It was so un-Emily like, but he didn’t dare mention it, because what would he say? ‘Thank you for leaving it alone.’?  She asked him the original question - did he love Gillian? What ( Read more... )

Title: It makes a sound like thunder
Author: gidget_zb
Beta: The fabulous claraon
Rating: T (for language)
Characters: Cal, Gillian
Wordcount: 7,166
Spoilers: Coda for 3x01

Summary: He is an expert in his field, and his field is truth. He wields that truth like a dagger, knowing every soft spot to slip it in where the most damage will be done. He is lethal, when the ( Read more... )

Title: It makes a sound like thunder
Author: gidget_zb
Beta: The fabulous claraon
Rating: T (for language)
Characters: Cal, Gillian
Wordcount: 7,166
Spoilers: Coda for 3x01

Summary: He is an expert in his field, and his field is truth. He wields that truth like a dagger, knowing every soft spot to slip it in where the most damage will be done. He is lethal, when the ( Read more... )

I will beg my way into your garden

The wind is biting into her skin, bringing tears to her eyes as she walks down the avenue toward her house, paper bag from the liquor store heavy in her arms. She’s so damn tired as she trudges down the street, and it’s so fucking cold, and the bag is heavy in her arms, but it is weighted down with the promise ( Read more... )

it follows that I am, because you are

She was, unsurprisingly, working when her cell phone chirped at her irritatingly.  It wasn’t that there was any particular rush on the paperwork, or even that she needed the distraction, but she knew if she went home, she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She’d been asleep when the first call had come. The ( Read more... )

Cause I thought I’d be fine

He liked to pretend that he was a workaholic. Which was a laugh, really - and a good one if you knew him well enough. Because if you knew him, you’d know there was nothing he hated more than being pinned down to one spot for hours on end. Behind his desk wasn’t a place most of his employees looked for him, unless they ( Read more... )

And gie's a hand o' thine;

He hated New Year’s Eve, he really did.

He sat on the sofa in his sitting room, watching some bloke with an overly whitened, overly bright smile ramble on and on about something. He’d turned the sound off after Emily had kissed him goodbye and headed out the door with Liam.

He always had hated it, because it was one of ( Read more... )

can’t remember a worse December

It wasn’t like he was bloody Ebenezer Scrooge or anything.

It’s just that he’s never really loved December, for a lot of reasons. His mum had killed herself the last weekend of November, and he vividly remembers that December. Stuck with a cold father, attending a funeral and standing knee-deep in the snow in an ( Read more... )

All the white horses have gone ahead

He has ideas, she knows - certain pictures squeaked out in his mind in indelible ink about who she is. She wonders sometimes, if he stares at it so much, there in his head, looks and looks and darkens a line here, and retraces the shape of her there so much that when he opens his eyes and sees her standing ( Read more... )

Bright Copper Kettles

“Dad.” Emily’s tone alone was a clear indication of how this conversation was going to go. Judging by the sing-songy way she dragged his name out in a cajoling manner, clearly the signs were pointing to it not going well. For him.

“What do you want, then?” He sighed and she glared at him in outrage, crossing her arms and ( Read more... )