fic post
Why it's nearly 2am and I'll be leaving here for good in 9 hours. What does a girl do? She posts a fic, that's what.
Title: Butterflies
Author: Donna
Category: Angst
Characters: CJ
Pairing: CJ/Leo
Rating: Teen, for the dramatic theme
Summary: When something pulls her to her feet, she follows it.
Author’s Note: Not mine, do not sue. This, and my last CJ/Leo belongs in a separate series but I can’t think of a good enough name. Suggestions would be most welcome.
Thanks to
sterling_sky for the beta and the love : )
The patter of rain against the window calms her but it is not enough. She slides out from the covers briefly holding her breath as she moves. If she were to wake him he would goad her back with his smile and then she would have to pretend everything was fixed again. She cannot deny that it would mend things for a little while, how could a smile like that not make things better, but this was different. Nobody had warned her it would be like this.
She unfolds her trusty quilt off the foot of the bed, fumbles for her glasses and walks toward the balcony; her steps and limbs rigid from another fitful night. Looking back his way with guilty eyes CJ wraps the quilt around her shoulders and carefully slides the door open with her free hand. She expects it to be like all the other times but when she tries to sidestep through her usual gap there is not enough space.
“What the hell?” She exclaims, quickly astonished by the tone of her voice. Her feeble laughter masks the stubborn screech of the glass door. A cool breeze hugs the quilt close as she steps out into the air of another imminent dawn. Her hand hovers tentatively over her stomach only for her palm to rush up to her face to block the rain instead. Nobody had warned her it would be like this.
When the water falls harder still she drops her shelter and lets it thrash against the lenses and her face. Every drop seems to smart more than the last but she doesn’t care - at least this means she can feel something. She drags her bare feet into the concrete to make sure. When her heel snags on something sharp she smiles inwardly as the sting bites. She can’t quite see it, it is swirling in a puddle and the drab-splattered sky but she knows there is blood. Her nostrils twitch as her foot slowly rises from the water; her heart buzzing as the sweet silvery fragrance counteracts the slap of the cold smothering the sole of her foot.
A noise disturbs her. She cannot place it immediately, but when her head whips toward him again, she knows it is guilt. The corners of her mouth turn up despite their weight; he looks so content lying there hunched up in the cotton and his dreams. She calls out to him, half hoping he will hear her, come running and make everything as it should be. He has tried so many times of course, and been more patient than she could have imagined, but the fear remains. What if this is who she is now, and it’s not a phase? What if the next time she reels at his touch or shrugs off compassion he walks away and never returns?
The thought jerks her head back and she splutters as the last of the shower falls into her mouth mixing with the bile lying unassumingly at the back of her throat. This will pounce too it’s just a question of when; she still has trouble reading the signs. She didn’t expect this but poise and capability bolted the minute she looked up from the result and called him Daddy. She isn’t sure of anything now and certainly didn’t count on feeling so alien and isolated in her own body. Nor to be looking up every new crisis in the back of the handbook, her fingers comforted by the softness of the dog-eared pages, eyes wide as plates when her name still isn’t listed under F for failure.
She had read about this yet CJ never considered this happening, but does anyone? This is someone else’s ordeal. It’s something she catches on the Hallmark Channel when she is flicking through the stations before bed or it’s way back when, on the headlines of magazines by the cash registers in her favourite dark alley convenience store when sleepless nights took her out for cigarettes and sugar piled cookies.
Her fingers and ribs tingle at the notion of a cigarette. She has never been reliant on them but sometimes nothing else could put things right. CJ sighs as a huddle of digits pitifully touch her mouth; suddenly there is much to be said for puffing your troubles into the air and watching them drift away. The mist gradually sweeping around her is a poor substitute.
Wearily looking over the best view in Washington, her palm nudges some water from the nearby chair and she sits down. As her shoulders relax into the squares of the quilt she pulls her cocoon tighter to her frame, peers out from its blue warmth smiling as glittering patches of wear catch her eye.
When something pulls her to her feet, she follows it. There is no rush or panic but somehow she knows there is no time to question her judgement. This just feels right. She edges forward as the last of the night sky folds into morning. What it leaves in its wake has her hand flailing for the barrier and the covers at her feet. Grip as tight as the slippery metal will allow, she mouths disbelief as a daring magenta sunrise peeks out from the horizon. She had never seen anything so beautiful. She smoothes down the hairs on the back of her neck and turns away ready to show him. But what was the point? He would only fuss when he saw her damp clothes and hair. Only insist on another doctor’s visit another waste of time, another -
She gasps when she feels it again; her mind is already on the page.
Quickening
A long anticipated event in every pregnancy, this is first time you feel your baby move. Can often be initially misinterpreted as gas, bubbles or butterflies.
“Oh god, Leo!” She whispers racing inside, her hands quivering and joyous on her belly. “Oh god…”
One hands shifts reluctantly as she slips back under the covers and slides close to him. Her heart hammers in her throat when her foot brushes over the back of his shin and the curve of her stomach caresses the small of his back. She realises it is too early for him to feel anything, but she knows that having her close again will soon stir him.
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Title: Butterflies
Author: Donna
Category: Angst
Characters: CJ
Pairing: CJ/Leo
Rating: Teen, for the dramatic theme
Summary: When something pulls her to her feet, she follows it.
Author’s Note: Not mine, do not sue. This, and my last CJ/Leo belongs in a separate series but I can’t think of a good enough name. Suggestions would be most welcome.
Thanks to
sterling_sky for the beta and the love : )
The patter of rain against the window calms her but it is not enough. She slides out from the covers briefly holding her breath as she moves. If she were to wake him he would goad her back with his smile and then she would have to pretend everything was fixed again. She cannot deny that it would mend things for a little while, how could a smile like that not make things better, but this was different. Nobody had warned her it would be like this.
She unfolds her trusty quilt off the foot of the bed, fumbles for her glasses and walks toward the balcony; her steps and limbs rigid from another fitful night. Looking back his way with guilty eyes CJ wraps the quilt around her shoulders and carefully slides the door open with her free hand. She expects it to be like all the other times but when she tries to sidestep through her usual gap there is not enough space.
“What the hell?” She exclaims, quickly astonished by the tone of her voice. Her feeble laughter masks the stubborn screech of the glass door. A cool breeze hugs the quilt close as she steps out into the air of another imminent dawn. Her hand hovers tentatively over her stomach only for her palm to rush up to her face to block the rain instead. Nobody had warned her it would be like this.
When the water falls harder still she drops her shelter and lets it thrash against the lenses and her face. Every drop seems to smart more than the last but she doesn’t care - at least this means she can feel something. She drags her bare feet into the concrete to make sure. When her heel snags on something sharp she smiles inwardly as the sting bites. She can’t quite see it, it is swirling in a puddle and the drab-splattered sky but she knows there is blood. Her nostrils twitch as her foot slowly rises from the water; her heart buzzing as the sweet silvery fragrance counteracts the slap of the cold smothering the sole of her foot.
A noise disturbs her. She cannot place it immediately, but when her head whips toward him again, she knows it is guilt. The corners of her mouth turn up despite their weight; he looks so content lying there hunched up in the cotton and his dreams. She calls out to him, half hoping he will hear her, come running and make everything as it should be. He has tried so many times of course, and been more patient than she could have imagined, but the fear remains. What if this is who she is now, and it’s not a phase? What if the next time she reels at his touch or shrugs off compassion he walks away and never returns?
The thought jerks her head back and she splutters as the last of the shower falls into her mouth mixing with the bile lying unassumingly at the back of her throat. This will pounce too it’s just a question of when; she still has trouble reading the signs. She didn’t expect this but poise and capability bolted the minute she looked up from the result and called him Daddy. She isn’t sure of anything now and certainly didn’t count on feeling so alien and isolated in her own body. Nor to be looking up every new crisis in the back of the handbook, her fingers comforted by the softness of the dog-eared pages, eyes wide as plates when her name still isn’t listed under F for failure.
She had read about this yet CJ never considered this happening, but does anyone? This is someone else’s ordeal. It’s something she catches on the Hallmark Channel when she is flicking through the stations before bed or it’s way back when, on the headlines of magazines by the cash registers in her favourite dark alley convenience store when sleepless nights took her out for cigarettes and sugar piled cookies.
Her fingers and ribs tingle at the notion of a cigarette. She has never been reliant on them but sometimes nothing else could put things right. CJ sighs as a huddle of digits pitifully touch her mouth; suddenly there is much to be said for puffing your troubles into the air and watching them drift away. The mist gradually sweeping around her is a poor substitute.
Wearily looking over the best view in Washington, her palm nudges some water from the nearby chair and she sits down. As her shoulders relax into the squares of the quilt she pulls her cocoon tighter to her frame, peers out from its blue warmth smiling as glittering patches of wear catch her eye.
When something pulls her to her feet, she follows it. There is no rush or panic but somehow she knows there is no time to question her judgement. This just feels right. She edges forward as the last of the night sky folds into morning. What it leaves in its wake has her hand flailing for the barrier and the covers at her feet. Grip as tight as the slippery metal will allow, she mouths disbelief as a daring magenta sunrise peeks out from the horizon. She had never seen anything so beautiful. She smoothes down the hairs on the back of her neck and turns away ready to show him. But what was the point? He would only fuss when he saw her damp clothes and hair. Only insist on another doctor’s visit another waste of time, another -
She gasps when she feels it again; her mind is already on the page.
Quickening
A long anticipated event in every pregnancy, this is first time you feel your baby move. Can often be initially misinterpreted as gas, bubbles or butterflies.
“Oh god, Leo!” She whispers racing inside, her hands quivering and joyous on her belly. “Oh god…”
One hands shifts reluctantly as she slips back under the covers and slides close to him. Her heart hammers in her throat when her foot brushes over the back of his shin and the curve of her stomach caresses the small of his back. She realises it is too early for him to feel anything, but she knows that having her close again will soon stir him.
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