Lithium--Life On Mars, Sam/Annie, rated Blue Cortina
Title: Lithium
Author: pink_bagels
Rating: Blue Cortina
Summary: Sam learns a little about his brave new world. (A response to the Evil!Annie concept ;P)
LITHIUM
Her skin is soft when he caresses her arm, her warmth a comfort his body longs for. He presses his body close to hers beneath the sheets, limbs and linen tangling in increasing temperatures. He kisses behind her ear, and she murmurs into the intimate touch.
"Sam," Annie says, and smiles.
Sam closes his eyes and nuzzles his face into the curve in the back of her neck, his lips furtively finding each section of vertebrae until he stops between her shoulders. She giggles at his choice of exploration, the comfort and warmth she exudes washing over Sam like a kind of drug.
"I'm so glad you stayed with me, Sam," Annie says. "It would have been awful if you'd left."
Sam kisses the bare, soft skin between her shoulder blades. "Where could I have gone?" he asks her.
Annie shrugs. "Everywhere," she says.
There is a quaintly disturbing aura around this statement and Sam frowns as he contemplates it, his kisses halted in mid pucker, the promise of lustful touch hampered for this moment while he wonders, just a little, what she means by this.
"You don't regret it, do you?" Annie rolls lazily over onto her back, her pretty face disarming him with her sweet, almost innocent smile.
It was Sam's turn to shrug. "What's there to regret?"
"Here, there and everywhere," Annie said. She trails her fingertip down his cheek and giggles. "Oh Sam, I'm so glad you didn't listen to her."
The warmth of her room takes on a sudden chill, and Sam draws away from her, pulling the sheets up close against his bare chest. He frowns, trying to put what she is saying into some kind of sense, but he is coming up empty. "What are you talking about?" is the only glib response he can give her.
She sits up in bed, the sheets lazily draped around her breasts, her lips finding his in the near dark of her bedroom, the outline of her body in deep tones of sepia from the yellow lamp at her bedside table. He sighs into the sudden burst of feeling that erupts inside of him, the need to be with her overwhelming. "It's like this with me, always. Forever. The way you feel. Feeling is everything, Sam. Just relax and feel."
A sudden, unbidden sense of annoyance washes over Sam, and he pulls out of Annie's embrace, heedless of how it aches to be away from her comforting warmth, her easy touch. This had been the problem since he'd remained here, he thought. The constant feeling without substance behind it, the over-sensory exploration. He felt too much, all the time. Every thought, every reasoning, it all was surrounded by feeling as opposed to cold factuality. He felt routinely drugged, partially drunk. Still...Feelings were wonderful, were part of being alive, and according to Annie they *were* what represented life.
He sighs and rests his head against the softness of the pillows beneath his skull. It is beautiful, this sensation of cool white linen and the scent of goose down. Feeling, feeling, feeling.
But somehow, in all this feeling he was stumbling. He longed to just head down to the pub and knock back a few with Gene, but the taste of the bitter was often so strong he'd involuntarily gag. He'd lose himself in the sensation of the tart liquid sliding across his tongue as he sipped at it. Gene had accused him of turning into an old woman. He weren't no fun, Gene had told him. Living wasn't so simple in this place, Sam had discovered. Every daily action, every bite of food every drink hit him like he'd been shocked by a bolt of electricity. His life here was so intense, so passionately too much.
Only Annie seemed to act like a balm on this constant barrage of information that threatened to wash him away in its endless flow of details. Her touch was so soothing, so right. His lithium against the onslaught of infinite wisdom.
He had never, ever questioned why.
Why?
Feeling wracked through every fibre of his being, every muscle resounding with the question. His bones felt fragmented from its echo, and he holds his head in his hands, the pain so unbearable, so intense...
"Staying with me was the wisest thing, Sam. It's perfect here. We are perfect."
He felt sick, his head pressing into itself, knowledge expanding inside of it in a burst of unbearable feeling. Hate. Anger. Pain. Joy. All of it and more, every thesaurus word ever invented, in all languages, the words of feeling. Feel. He feels all right, he feels like he is being tortured, like he is torn into billions upon billions of pieces by every fragment of his molecules.
But he isn't made of molecules, Sam realises. He's made up of nothing more than ideas. Nothing more than feelings
He realises he's been had. It's a terrible feeling. Like being cut into small pieces. He can feel the way the knife digs into his flesh, into his organs, chopping them and slicing them, his tendons now ribbons, his heart dissected.
"Annie?"
But the bedroom is dark. The bed is empty and Sam is all alone, in a solitary box of black emotions. Annie has left him here, to contemplate how he feels. Against the sides of his prison he can hear an echo, a whisper of a world just outside of the place she has so carefully created for him.
"Hey Annie, did you hear that DCI Tyler offed himself?"
"Give over. He just got out of hospital!" There is a distinctive, sorrowful pause. "Damn. He was so cute, too."
"Never you mind that, he never would have had time for you anyway. He barely had a moment for Maya, remember?"
"I guess." Annie's voice sadly says.
"See you at the pub," her invisible friend replies.
Was it in his mind, that vision of Annie at a small, metal desk, a stack of folders to the side of her computer, a tiny piece of what looked to be Leggo in her grip, a piece of plastic that Sam suddenly recognised as being the button off of his favourite coat, a fact he could remember because she allowed him to see it. For this was her world, after all, and he was her creation. The feeling warmth of an imaginary Sam Tyler and PC Cartwright's rather quaint infatuation.
She drops the button in the drawer of her desk, and slams it shut, leaving Sam to feel his way through the dark.
END
Author: pink_bagels
Rating: Blue Cortina
Summary: Sam learns a little about his brave new world. (A response to the Evil!Annie concept ;P)
LITHIUM
Her skin is soft when he caresses her arm, her warmth a comfort his body longs for. He presses his body close to hers beneath the sheets, limbs and linen tangling in increasing temperatures. He kisses behind her ear, and she murmurs into the intimate touch.
"Sam," Annie says, and smiles.
Sam closes his eyes and nuzzles his face into the curve in the back of her neck, his lips furtively finding each section of vertebrae until he stops between her shoulders. She giggles at his choice of exploration, the comfort and warmth she exudes washing over Sam like a kind of drug.
"I'm so glad you stayed with me, Sam," Annie says. "It would have been awful if you'd left."
Sam kisses the bare, soft skin between her shoulder blades. "Where could I have gone?" he asks her.
Annie shrugs. "Everywhere," she says.
There is a quaintly disturbing aura around this statement and Sam frowns as he contemplates it, his kisses halted in mid pucker, the promise of lustful touch hampered for this moment while he wonders, just a little, what she means by this.
"You don't regret it, do you?" Annie rolls lazily over onto her back, her pretty face disarming him with her sweet, almost innocent smile.
It was Sam's turn to shrug. "What's there to regret?"
"Here, there and everywhere," Annie said. She trails her fingertip down his cheek and giggles. "Oh Sam, I'm so glad you didn't listen to her."
The warmth of her room takes on a sudden chill, and Sam draws away from her, pulling the sheets up close against his bare chest. He frowns, trying to put what she is saying into some kind of sense, but he is coming up empty. "What are you talking about?" is the only glib response he can give her.
She sits up in bed, the sheets lazily draped around her breasts, her lips finding his in the near dark of her bedroom, the outline of her body in deep tones of sepia from the yellow lamp at her bedside table. He sighs into the sudden burst of feeling that erupts inside of him, the need to be with her overwhelming. "It's like this with me, always. Forever. The way you feel. Feeling is everything, Sam. Just relax and feel."
A sudden, unbidden sense of annoyance washes over Sam, and he pulls out of Annie's embrace, heedless of how it aches to be away from her comforting warmth, her easy touch. This had been the problem since he'd remained here, he thought. The constant feeling without substance behind it, the over-sensory exploration. He felt too much, all the time. Every thought, every reasoning, it all was surrounded by feeling as opposed to cold factuality. He felt routinely drugged, partially drunk. Still...Feelings were wonderful, were part of being alive, and according to Annie they *were* what represented life.
He sighs and rests his head against the softness of the pillows beneath his skull. It is beautiful, this sensation of cool white linen and the scent of goose down. Feeling, feeling, feeling.
But somehow, in all this feeling he was stumbling. He longed to just head down to the pub and knock back a few with Gene, but the taste of the bitter was often so strong he'd involuntarily gag. He'd lose himself in the sensation of the tart liquid sliding across his tongue as he sipped at it. Gene had accused him of turning into an old woman. He weren't no fun, Gene had told him. Living wasn't so simple in this place, Sam had discovered. Every daily action, every bite of food every drink hit him like he'd been shocked by a bolt of electricity. His life here was so intense, so passionately too much.
Only Annie seemed to act like a balm on this constant barrage of information that threatened to wash him away in its endless flow of details. Her touch was so soothing, so right. His lithium against the onslaught of infinite wisdom.
He had never, ever questioned why.
Why?
Feeling wracked through every fibre of his being, every muscle resounding with the question. His bones felt fragmented from its echo, and he holds his head in his hands, the pain so unbearable, so intense...
"Staying with me was the wisest thing, Sam. It's perfect here. We are perfect."
He felt sick, his head pressing into itself, knowledge expanding inside of it in a burst of unbearable feeling. Hate. Anger. Pain. Joy. All of it and more, every thesaurus word ever invented, in all languages, the words of feeling. Feel. He feels all right, he feels like he is being tortured, like he is torn into billions upon billions of pieces by every fragment of his molecules.
But he isn't made of molecules, Sam realises. He's made up of nothing more than ideas. Nothing more than feelings
He realises he's been had. It's a terrible feeling. Like being cut into small pieces. He can feel the way the knife digs into his flesh, into his organs, chopping them and slicing them, his tendons now ribbons, his heart dissected.
"Annie?"
But the bedroom is dark. The bed is empty and Sam is all alone, in a solitary box of black emotions. Annie has left him here, to contemplate how he feels. Against the sides of his prison he can hear an echo, a whisper of a world just outside of the place she has so carefully created for him.
"Hey Annie, did you hear that DCI Tyler offed himself?"
"Give over. He just got out of hospital!" There is a distinctive, sorrowful pause. "Damn. He was so cute, too."
"Never you mind that, he never would have had time for you anyway. He barely had a moment for Maya, remember?"
"I guess." Annie's voice sadly says.
"See you at the pub," her invisible friend replies.
Was it in his mind, that vision of Annie at a small, metal desk, a stack of folders to the side of her computer, a tiny piece of what looked to be Leggo in her grip, a piece of plastic that Sam suddenly recognised as being the button off of his favourite coat, a fact he could remember because she allowed him to see it. For this was her world, after all, and he was her creation. The feeling warmth of an imaginary Sam Tyler and PC Cartwright's rather quaint infatuation.
She drops the button in the drawer of her desk, and slams it shut, leaving Sam to feel his way through the dark.
END