I've got troubled thoughts and the self-esteem to match...

Lost HoHoHo fic, Doc there's a hole where something was, Doc there's a hole where something was

Fri, 02 Jan 2009 09:39:31 GMT

Title: Broken Nails and Hand Grenades
For: tellshannon815
Pairing: Shannon, Boone, maybe a little Shannon/Boone, I guess it depends on how you look at it.
Rating: pg-13
Disclaimer: Angsty. My first time writing anything with these two
Notes: Oh my god you guys, it's been way too long. A broken computer and a hospital stay are to blame. This is just a quick drive-by entry with my Lost HoHoHo assignment. It's a little different than what I usually write, I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Note Number 2: Broke nails and hand grenades? Sorry about the atrocious english guys, I had to post that in like 3.4 seconds last night.

Red. In that moment, it was all he could see. An ever-expanding circle of red blossoming across her chest. The necklace he gave her last Christmas had rested in the very same spot. He had rested his head there in Sydney while idly tracing a group of freckles across her shoulder.

It takes him an instant that lasts a century to force his gaze to meet her own and he knows the shock he sees in her eyes must be mirrored in his. He can’t process this, can’t think about anything other than her. Her face, her laugh, her smile, her scent; a thousand memories blur through his mind faster than he can bear and all at once he is painfully brought back to the present.

The motion of her body as it falls to the ground is finally enough to spur him into action. He’s spent most of his life trying to catch her as she falls, with her fighting him tooth and nail every step of the way. This couldn’t be real. Any second now she was going to push him away like always; the untouchable princess that doesn’t need anything from anyone.

Something breaks into pieces inside of him as she collapses in his arms. His pulse seems unbearably loud in his mind and he can’t feel anything other than the crimson warmth spreading across his hands. He wants to yell for Jack, for anyone that could possibly reverse this moment but he can’t breathe or think or feel.

For once, she’s complacent in his arms. There is none of the usual warmth or friction or spark he’s come to associate with her. There’s a hole where something used to be inside of him and he can’t help but wonder how much more they’re all going to lose before this nightmare is over.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nothing really stands out in his mind until the moment he sees her again. Most of his days are spent around the simple wooden cross that feels more real beneath his hands than anything else this island has to offer. If he lingers near it long enough he can almost feel her warmth against his side, hear her laughter running through his mind.

He knows he should be more alarmed when he opens his eyes and finds her there. She looks as alive as ever, the perfect picture of radiant light spread out across the sand. The simple “miss me?” she offers him and the smile that goes with it are as familiar to him as the color of her eyes and, for this moment at least, he’s perfectly content to just sit and be with her.

He’s always been a logical guy. Two plus two always equals four, and when a bullet tears its way through your chest there is no coming back from that. But she’s here, smiling and whole. They aren’t fighting and she isn’t walking away and in the end, it really doesn’t matter why she’s here.

He just needs her to stay.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You know you’ve got to stop doing this, right? There are things that need to be done.”

The cryptic talk couldn’t be more out of place coming from her, and he couldn’t be more grateful for the familiar, underlying current of irritation he can hear in her voice. He knows her, inside and out, and if he wasn’t afraid to touch her he would slap a hand over her mouth to cut off the oncoming rant he knows she is working up to.

Dead Shannon seems to have an even shorter fuse than his Shannon and more than anything he just wants to ask her to stop, to stop talking and planning and scheming and just be with him. The world is always coming to an end on this island and at this point he’s just waiting to see how it all plays out. Letting it end means being with her and the scowl that crosses her face makes him wonder if death finally allows her to understand him.

“God, Boone! You’ve got to snap out of it! Don’t you get it; you’ve got to get up! They need you!”

As a rule, he doesn’t respond to dead Shannon. He doesn’t touch or talk or do anything that might disturb whatever is going on and cause her to leave. He can sense her frustration; practically feel the urgency in the slope of her shoulders, and he knows that this is the moment where his Shannon would stalk off, leaving a trail of anger and bitterness in her wake.

He isn’t surprised to find an empty beach in front of him when he opens his eyes.

At least this time, he knows she’ll be back.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He knows this isn’t healthy. It isn’t getting any better and he loses touch with reality a little bit more as every day goes by. Everything fades to gray in his mind except for stolen moments with a ghost by a grave. She isn’t coming back and sooner or later he’ll be left with nothing more than fragmented memories of broken conversations.

When he looks up to meet her eyes, he can’t really decide which of them is more shocked by the tears streaming down his face. He wants to stop, go back to the comfortable routine they’ve established since her death, but everything feels tight and heavy and he can’t seem to get enough air into his lungs.

He can’t help but wonder if this is what dying feels like, if having a bullet tear through your insides causes the same sort of suffocating feeling he’s drowning under now.

“Oh, Boone.”

Her hand on his face feels like the first real thing he’s felt in weeks and whatever restraint he had left goes out the window when she pulls him into her arms. This isn’t real.

This isn’t real this isn’t real this isn’t real this isn’t real.

It doesn’t matter how many times he tries to say it, he can still feel hear and smell her and wrap himself up in her and he never wants to leave this moment.

“Boone. Boone, you have to get up.”

He knew this was coming. Everything has been building towards this for weeks and the throbbing in his head quiets down with every sweeping motion her hand makes.

“I don’t want you to go. I can’t do this without you.”

His voice is scratchy and foreign and painful to his ears. He doesn’t want to have this conversation, doesn’t want to do anything other than wrap himself around her and watch this miserable island full of miserable people go up in a blaze of glory.

“Boone, you have to get up. They can’t do this without you. You’ll see me again, I promise, but for now you have to get up. I need for you to get up.”

“Promise. Promise me I’ll see you again.”

The demand comes out more childlike than he intended but right now he’s too far gone to care. Something is coming, that much is obvious, but he can’t do this without knowing he’ll see her again.

“I promise. We don’t have any more time.”

“I’m ready.”

And he was. Whatever was coming, he was ready. One way or another everything was about to change. Either way, once this was finished, at least he knew he’d see her again.

“Good. They’re here.”

</lj>

Fic Rec

Fri, 31 Oct 2008 20:58:44 GMT

Alright everyone, seriously. Go to sara_wolf 's journal right now and go tell her how pretty her fic World Upside Down is. Right now. Because it's finally happened....SOMEONE FINALLY WROTE A MATT/CLAIRE FIC. And it's angsty and pretty and I've been waiting for someone to join the crazy band wagon that is Matt/Claire for forever so...go. Read it. Now. Click me. You know you want to.

Fic: Silver Bullet, Peter/Claire, PG-13, Season Three Premiere Spoilers, unloveyou prompt #24

Sun, 05 Oct 2008 00:57:28 GMT

Hello my babies! I haven't updated in..oh.. like five weeks or so but..I have fic! The universe kinda completely and totally fucked me over today (I'll never understand how people can be so so shitty) so I've decided to solve that problem by hiding in my room and resorting to fandom until I stop hating the world. I hope you guys enjoy, this one is kinda new for me.

Fic: Silver Bullet (title stolen from a Hawthorne Heights song)
Pairing: Peter/Claire
Rating: pg-13
Spoilers: Season three premiere
Warnings: angst? slight incest
Word Count: 1433
Author's Note: Also written for un_love_you , prompt #24, I want you to hate me

"Got a single Silver Bullet,
I shot right through my heart.
To prove I can survive,
Without you.
Got a single Silver Bullet,
I shot right through my heart.
To prove I can survive without you."

She can tell with every imploring glance he throws her way that he's still there, still Peter, still trying to find a way to save a girl that doesn't exist.

Every week it's something new; the day Sylar stole her powers, the day Nathan became just another casualty in the war, the day saving the world became more important than saving her. An endless litany of solutions to a problem he just can't understand and the determination she sees every time he returns and looks at her is the only thing that really amazes her anymore.

She wants to tell him what she's always known and he can't understand; he can change the steps until the end of time, the result will always be the same. After all their attempts at playing God and changing destinies so so much bigger than them this is nothing more or less than what they deserve. This is their creation, the world they shaped and molded and shattered with their never-ending supply of arrogance.

God hasn't had a hand in any of this for a while and she can't help but wonder if that knowledge would finally be enough to let Peter rest. Allow him to stop asking questions and seeking answers and finally just take a moment to be broken and shattered and lost.

A moment to just stand and be with her, after all this time.

It's more familiar to her than anything else by this point but for some reason the gun feels cold and heavy and hard in her hand and for today at least, she isn't ready to be the one that breaks him.

Sylar is an easy out and one they all like to use far too often but deep down she's always known the truth.

The numbness he graced her with the day he stole her powers did nothing more than allow her body to finally catch up to the girl inside and he's no more to blame for any of this than they are. The blame could be laid on a thousand different people in a thousand different ways, but in the end they all got caught up in the rush and their destinies and the glory of being special just the same.

The hows and whys stopped mattering a hundred decisions ago and the only thing she blames him for anymore is saving the cheerleader in the first place. That was the beginning, the first line they blurred without any thought to the consequences, the thread that unraveled all the others and brought them to this point.

Every decision he tries to undo, every loved one he pulls the trigger on he does for her, and if she were a little less selfish she'd find a way to end this for him. Find a way to pull the trigger and make him hate her, to finally take away the only reason he has left.

He's always been her answer, and as she lowers the gun and walks away she can't figure out when he stopped thinking of her as the same.

He does all of this for her, and it's his inability to stay that she hates him for.

When she takes the time to stop and think about it, she figures she probably went wrong when she started thinking about her power more in terms of her inability to feel than her ability to heal.

The constant struggle with right and wrong (dirty dirty dirty) and the never-ending debate over where it all went wrong that she watches him battle with on a daily basis faded into a quiet gray in the back of her mind a long time ago and she's grateful for that fact every time she pulls the trigger.

She'll never see heaven and she's living in hell and she's almost disturbed by how easy it is for her to understand why Adam was so ready to watch it all burn. People are shitty and cold and broken and she refuses to waste one more minute of her life fighting to save a world that probably doesn't deserve to be saved.

She'll pull the trigger and take the shot and do what it takes to make things right but she's through living by someone else's naive view of right and wrong. She didn't choose any of this and everything that's happened to her happened before she had a chance to blink or breathe or make sense of any of this but now that she's here, someone has to be willing to step-up and do what needs to be done.

It's her gift to him, really, this path that she's chosen. Sometimes you have to do the wrong thing to set things right, that's the one part of the Petrelli lifestyle Peter never could understand.

Today at least, she isn't ready to be the one that breaks him.

Sometimes, when he looks at her in that way that he has, she wants to believe he can change it all.

That's the one secret she'll carry with her for as long as they're forced into this joke of an existence, the last piece of the puzzle she refuses to burden him with. Everything he does he does for her but if she can do it, if she can pull the trigger and take that softness out of his eyes, maybe she can finally bring him peace.

She has no interest in living forever if she isn't living with him and if anyone has a chance of stopping her, he's the only one that'll ever get close enough to try. Her beginning and her end, all wrapped up in one beautifully broken package.

He'll never stop. He'll keep trying to set things right for her, for them, until he finally finds that elusive secret she's been yearning for for years and leaves her here all alone and that's not a chance she's willing to take.

It'll take more than steel and lead and a shaky hand to really stop him but her finger on the trigger is all it'll take to break the part of him that torments him. To put to rest something that shouldn't have existed in the first place and to obliterate the part of her that remembers what it is to feel.

It all begins and ends with Peter and after everything she still wouldn't have it any other way. Without him she hasn't truly felt anything in years and the feeling that suddenly has a strangled hold around her chest is almost enough to make her think she's finally found a way out of all of this.

Her hand is shaking and her heart is racing and even in this moment, the only thing she can really focus on is the hope that he'll somehow find a way to fix this. But hope belongs in the past with teddy bears and pigtails and she owes him so much more than the hell he endures for her.

She wants to sob and break and shatter into a million pieces under the weight of all they've been through but she isn't that girl, she's indestructible and strong and she gave up playing the victim card too long ago to resort back to that role now.

He's spent his entire life fighting to save something that was never meant to be saved and for once she's going to love him enough to end this for him. She can't think and she can't breathe but it's the only way and her hand is finally, finally still.

She pulls the trigger with the same certainty she used to have every time she grabbed his hand with her own and she loves him too much to look away as she does it. The look on his face will stay with her for the rest of her life and she wishes she could hear something other than “you're totally my hero” running through her mind.

He's gone in an instant but she can still feel and smell him all around her, feel the same undeniable connection that's burned in her chest since the first day they met flare up inside of her now.

She can't go back and they can't move forward and as her knees hit the ground a sob escapes her throat for the first time in years.

He needs to hate her. It's the only way to bring him peace and all of this is only worthwhile if he finally gets to rest.

It was the only way.

She has to believe that.

True love is a fairytale..I'm damaged, so how would I know?

Fri, 25 Apr 2008 10:57:54 GMT

Holy crap you guys...I haven't updated or written anything in over ten weeks. That is way way way too long. School's been a bit of a problem and the death of my laptop definitely isn't helping the situation but I finally sat down and attempted something for 60 minute fics/one of my
un_love_you
prompts. It's definitely not my favorite thing ever but I wanted to get back into the groove of things or whatever so hopefully it isn't too bad. And by the way, I had no idea it was so hard to write a fic in an hour. I'm pretty certain I went a little over but for anyone interested the picture prompt was a descending staircase and I used prompt 22, I hate myself, as well.

Title: Damaged
Pairing: Peter/Claire
Rating: PG, PG-13 for angst maybe
Warnings: Incest, angst

"I didn't say all the things that I wanted to say
And you can't take back what you have
taken away
'Cause I feel you, I feel you near me

Healing comes so painfully
And it chills to the bone
Will anyone get close to me?
I'm damaged, as I'm sure you know"

-Damaged by Plumb

She hates being responsible for this, hates seeing the loathing and guilt behind his eyes and knowing that she's the cause. She wants to walk away, to end the fight she can almost feel bubbling just underneath his skin, but by this point they've tumbled so far down the rabbit hole she isn't sure if walking away would save him or break him.

It's wrong. That all she ever gets from him when he comes to her like this and she shouldn't be able to save him and damn him with just a kiss.

She wants to hate him for this. Hate him for not being strong enough to walk away, for not being strong enough to want to stay. The desperate feel of his hands around her waist is enough to force the thought from her mind and no matter what he might say in the morning, there's no denying the need she can feel in his kiss tonight.

It's wrong. It's selfish and weak and a thousand other horrible things she'll never be able to associate with him. He doesn't feel wrong or sinful to her and she just wishes there was some way to be with him without taking from him with every touch.

It could all be so simple and easy if he would just give in but he wouldn't be Peter if he gave in without a fight. She can't stand the hopeless attempts he makes at avoiding her as they move about the mansion and she hates herself all over again when his tired sigh reminds her of the agony he puts himself through for her.

There are so many things she'd like to say to him but with every word she runs the risk of hurting him a little more, so for now she'll settle for giving him her body if it's all he's willing to take. Every desperate, pathetic attempt he makes to stay away he does for her and she'd do anything to remove the defeated look that haunts him when he can't.

She should walk away, be selfless enough to make the move for him, but she's fairly certain that he's selfless enough to watch her go and she doesn't know how to stay away when he's all she can feel.

She isn't interested in the nice, normal life or the nice, normal husband he envisions for her. She isn't interested in the white picket fence or the kids or the wedding or any thing else that takes him away from her.

Wedding bells and picket fences belong to people far less broken and damaged than them and despite it all there's no where else she'd rather be. She can take on his hate and his anger and make it her own if that's what it takes to make this okay for him.

After all that he's given up for her, it seems like a small sacrifice to make. The look on his face and the feel of him lying here with her make up for everything and for now it's enough to know that he needs her just as much as she needs him.

Meme Time!

Tue, 12 Feb 2008 04:09:09 GMT

So holycitygirl made my morning by tagging me in her list of people that make her day so I figured I'd return the favor to someone else. I'm sure most of you have already seen this meme but if you haven't make sure you post it and tag ten more people to keep the love going!

1. holycitygirl
2. loveshinex
3. ohhfantastic
4. freetheelves2
5. slynn6776
6. dragonydreams
7. velvetwhip
8. missmara
9. blonderocker
10. muzzy_olorea

You're all wonderful fic writers or magnificent graphic or video makers and you've all made my day at one point or another so thank you! Now go, pass on the love :)

Vid Rec: Lost

Wed, 06 Feb 2008 18:58:34 GMT

For all my Lost f-listers that actually like Charlie:

Go. Watch. Be sad with me.

Definitely contains spoilers.

Fic: Catalyst, Claire/Mohinder, slight R

Sun, 03 Feb 2008 11:51:41 GMT

Alright, so, this is my entry for the first round over at heroes_fest. I had something else I had been working on saved to my laptop but unfortunately that's still out of commission so I had to start over with something completely different for my prompt. I'm not sure I'm 100% satisfied with it but unfortunately I'm out of time so forgive me for any mistakes you find, I didn't have time to get it betaed. It's like 5:30 in the morning, I can barely keep my eyes open, and I'm pretty certain the deadline is in a few hours but at least it's finally done. Goodnight you guys!

Title: Catalyst (stolen from the Anna Nalick song, I'm too tired to think right now)
Pairing: Claire/Mohinder
Rating: Slight R
Spoilers: Ummm..none really. In fact, this is wildly AU. I haven't watched season two so this is just set in my own little world.
Warnings: Kinda angsty, AU
Author's Note: Um, you might want to read this for this to really make sense. In my world Peter exploded, Mr. Bennet died trying to protect Claire, and she's now staying with Mohinder while he tries to find a cure for the virus. I hope that makes sense. It's not really crucial if it doesn't.

Catalyst

“When you say love is a simple chemical reaction, can’t say I agree.
Cuz my chemicals left me a beautiful disaster, still love’s all I see.”

-Anna Nalick, Catalyst

Somehow, he’s fairly certain that this isn’t what her father had in mind when he asked him to protect his daughter.

In the beginning, the how and why were lost amidst the lies and sacrifices that go hand in hand with keeping the unbreakable girl safe and the only thing that mattered was that she was here, safe and whole, providing one last chance for humanity.

His father’s cramped, desolate apartment was no place for her but she never complained; accepted the needles and tests and strained conversations with the resigned air of someone much older than what she was, and for a man that prides himself on being observant he can’t help but feel a little embarrassed at how long it took him to notice the hollow look that never seemed to leave her eyes.

Before her, his world was full of facts and reason and the utter emptiness of the apartment didn’t seem to matter as long as he kept his mind on the task at hand and his nose buried in a book. He wasn’t used to cooking for two, was even less adept at sharing his space with someone else, and had absolutely no idea how to navigate through the emotional turmoil that always seemed to surround her.

Rationally, he understood that there were bigger problems at hand that needed to be dealt with than the broken smiles and heavy sighs of a broken girl, but no matter how he tried to stack the cards he just couldn’t justify constantly taking, even if she was always more than willing and able to give.

It was a long process but he finally worked out that the latest issue of Cosmo will earn him a smile, a cup of hot chocolate will allow her to finally, finally get some sleep, and, for a few moments at least, a piece of lasagna is all it takes to bring some light back to her eyes.

It’s easy enough to justify at first, but as he watches her laugh while slowly devouring his pile of freshly shredded cheese he can’t hide the now familiar smile slowly spreading across his face.

The easy, shy smile she graces him with in return results in an unfamiliar feeling in his chest, and it finally hits him that he may have a bit of problem.

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When Nathan dies, he spends the majority of the day trying to fight back the bile steadily rising in the back of his throat and the ever increasing panic he feels when she doesn’t come home.

He used to be able to drown out the overwhelming silence of the apartment with the ease of someone that’s been alone for far too long but right now the lack of Claire’s voice is all he can hear. He was prepared for her anger, was more than ready to bear the blame and the guilt he knew he deserved, but he hadn’t prepared himself for the loss that was becoming increasingly more likely by the minute.

She had settled into his life so completely it was difficult to imagine it without her. He’d done absolutely everything he could think of to do, had already spent hours checking all of the places he’d come to associate with her, and for some reason as he falls into a restless sleep vanilla ice cream cones and bright red toes are all he can seem to think about.

The feel of her body settling into his bed was one outcome he definitely hadn’t been expecting and the apology that’s been lingering on the tip of his tongue all day dies on his lips when he sees the look on her face. She looks lost and confused and not at all angry and he needs to move to the couch, like, now, but she stops him with a hand to his chest and her mouth against his own is enough to end any protests he may have had.

He wishes he was a better man, that he knew some other way to remove that dead look from her eyes, but relationships have never been his strong point and this is the only way he knows to put her back together again. The sound of her breathing finally replaces the empty sound of their apartment in his mind he knows he’ll never be able to replace the taste of her against his tongue.

She’s real and warm and alive against his hands and that’s more than he can say for everyone else they’ve ever loved. Her skin is soft and so, so pale in contrast to his and touching her feels a little bit like a blessing and a sin at the same time.

Her cheeks are flushed and her heart is racing as she looks down at him and he’s never seen her look more beautiful and alive. The smile that lights up her face when he traces it with his fingertips causes his chest to ache and he can’t help but be reminded of just how young she really is.

“You’re so young, Claire. We don’t have to do this.”

The exit he offers her is his last testament to the morally superior man he used to be and out of all the things he was expecting to hear in return, her resounding laughter was definitely not on the list.

“I’m older than I look.”

The truth of that statement is undeniable when he looks in her eyes and he knows he’s done for when she proves her point by surrounding him with her warmth. She’s all he can taste and hear and feel and he can’t really remember how he got by before her but as he wraps his hands around her waist he knows he won’t be letting her go any time soon.

We're all looking for something, something to be

Tue, 15 Jan 2008 21:18:06 GMT

Sorry guys, no fic here, this will officially be the first just random rambling post in this journal. This semester I'm taking British Lit: 19th Century British Novels, Intro to Social Work, Cell and Molecular Biology, and a political science class. I'm a stones throw away from being a junior and I still have no idea what to pick for my major. I've taken everything from art appreciation, intro to logic, human sexuality, botany, british literature, developmental psychology, technical and scientific writing, intro to sociology, anthropology...and a large number of regular courses I won't even go into. Years of listening to "you can be whatever you want to be" have led to me wanting to be a surgeon, a teacher, a social worker, a writer, an ambassador...you name it, I've probably considered it. This is the last semester I have before I just have to pick something and my academic advisor has pretty much just reached the end of her rope so I guess the point of this is, if you're still reading this for the love of god SOMEONE GIVE ME A MAJOR.

Fic: Home, Peter/Claire, PG-13

Mon, 17 Dec 2007 04:04:12 GMT

Title: Home
Pairing: Peter/Claire
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, Incest
Author's Note: Written for the 12daysofpaire holiday challenge, the prompt was I'll be home for Christmas and I hope that this loose interpretation of that is acceptable. Unbetaed, because I think I missed the deadline for this now as it is and I'm sorry in advance for all the crazy cross posting.

If she tries hard enough, she can almost remember a time when home reminded her of a harsh, unrelenting sun and an almost unbearable humidity that never seemed to go away. She remembers mornings spent gathered around a tree and meals shared with loved ones, arguments over the best show to watch and the unimaginable stress associated with mastering the perfect cheer.

Even after she discovered who she really was, home still consisted of family and warmth and love and a thousand different things she never really appreciated until some strange men in suits stormed into her life and snatched it all away.

For a while after that home consisted of harsh walls and stony silences; posh decors that never really managed to conceal the thin layer of deceit that seemed to coat everything associated with the name Petrelli.

Everything except Peter.

In the Petrelli house, Christmas was just another excuse for an elaborate, formal event and no matter how hard she tried to be grateful for the new life and chance her bio-family represented, she was a Bennet through and through and she knew it was only a matter of time before another disaster came along to blow her house of cards away.

This time the disaster came in the form of a virus and before she knew it home consisted of whatever dump of a hotel Peter had managed to find for them. Ramen noodles shared in front of a television while waiting to see their faces on the evening news replaced elegant meals shared with their joke of a family around an overpriced table and it’s almost amusing that she’s able to master the intricate art of running for her life while she crashed and burned at learning the delicate game of politics her grandmother had tried to force upon her.

They may not have a large tree or shiny presents to commemorate the occasion but Peter’s arm wrapped around her waist feels like a gift in and of itself. It feels like an eternity since she’s actually had a place and people to call home but she’s alive and Peter’s still here with her and by this point in her life she’s learned to be grateful for what she has.

Peter had fallen asleep hours ago but she can’t seem to tear her eyes away from the snow she can see falling outside of their window. The sight reminds her of the snowman her and Lyle had managed to build with the pathetic amount of snow they’d received one year and she can almost hear the sound of Nathan laughing as Monty pegged her in the face with a snowball. Peter had protected her even then and after everything she’s lost she’s glad she still has one thing left that she can be grateful for.

She had hated the way the Petrelli’s celebrated Christmas, hated the fact that she wasn’t sitting in her messy living room unwrapping gifts with Lyle or baking her father’s favorite cinnamon raisin cookies with her mom, but she’d give anything to be sitting around that over-sized, over-priced table right now, listening to Nathan and her grandmother argue about politics while she shared exasperated looks with Peter. They may not have been ideal but they were family nonetheless and she can’t help but notice that a part of Peter died the day he buried his brother every time she looks in his eyes.

She isn’t sure who she’s crying for as she feels the tears stinging her eyes and she hates that the holidays still have the power to affect her this way. She’d learned to lock away thoughts like this along time ago in order to make it through the day but she just can’t wrap her mind around the fact that after all they’ve had taken away from them her and Peter are supposed to be the monsters.

She hates for Peter to see her this way but he’s always been able to tell when something’s wrong and tonight is no exception. She’s pathetically grateful for the distracting warmth and familiar smell of him as he presses closer to her in his sleep and as he groggily asks her what’s the matter she can feel a little bit of the weight lifted off of her chest.

“Nothing, go back to sleep baby.”

The lie slips from her mouth effortlessly and she can’t help but love him a little bit more when he doesn’t call her on it and presses a kiss to her shoulder instead. The warmth of his weight as he wraps himself around her does more to heal her than words ever could.

Home consists of the warmth and smell and love that surrounds her while she’s in his arms and right now, in this moment, she lets herself pretend that everything will be alright, as long as she has Peter.

Fic: Beginnings Peter/Claire...PG?

Fri, 14 Dec 2007 05:26:23 GMT

Title: Beginnings
Pairing: Peter/Claire
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fluffy with a tinge of angst, incest
Author's Note: Written for the 12daysofpaire holiday fic challenge. Prompt was mistletoe. This was written pretty quickly to meet the deadline so unfortunately no beta, all mistakes are mine.

The incessant singing and nonstop shopping probably should’ve been enough to clue her into Peter’s holiday obsession, but the true severity of the situation doesn’t really hit home until she witnesses the utter devastation Peter has somehow single-handedly caused to his room on Christmas Eve.

What once had been an elegant, pristine, spacious room befitting of any member of the Petrelli family was now littered with more wrapping paper than Claire has ever seen in her entire life, and the…affection…she has for him that she usually succeeds at locking away into the deepest recesses of her mind suddenly flares to life as she watches him frantically search under his bed for a bag of bows he managed to misplace.

He was trying so hard to make this the perfect holiday gathering for their family, for her, and the smile that lights up his eyes when he sees her standing in his doorway only serves to cause her heart to do that rather unbearable flip-flop inside of her chest that she’s starting to fear will never go away.

It was Peter’s idea to bring her here for the holidays to give her a chance to know her “family,” and the barely disguised longing she likes to think she heard in his voice when he relayed the request to her was the only thing that managed to convince her to board that plane. Now that she’s here though, on the receiving end of that look she hopes he reserves specifically for her, she can’t imagine spending the holiday anywhere else.

Somewhere along the line home had started to feel like wherever Peter was, and no matter whether it’s right or wrong she just can’t force herself to pull away.

In a perfect world they’d be wrapped up in a blanket, drinking hot cocoa on his balcony while they watched the snow fall around them, content to just be sharing the moment with each other. Or maybe he could just be a boy and she could just be a girl and they could spend Christmas gathered around her dinner table in Odessa, drinking egg nog and playing Monopoly until all hours of the morning.

In a perfect world, loving him wouldn’t be a sin and lies wouldn’t fall from her mouth easier than the truth.

It’s impossible to maintain her somber train of thought when he suddenly laughs and pulls her beneath the mistletoe she hadn’t noticed hanging in his room. His joy is too infectious to deny and she can’t remember the last time she was able to be around him without smiling.

His laughter dies down when he looks in her eyes and slowly moves the hair back from her face and the rapid succession of butterflies now churning through her stomach clue her into the fact that she’s about to get exactly what she wants for Christmas.

They may not live in a perfect world but it feels like a perfect moment when he closes his eyes and presses his lips to hers. She can feel the moment drawing to an end much sooner than she’d like and she hates that they’ll have to go on about their lives and ignore the way he lingers just a little too long to be proper when he slowly pulls away from her.

She can’t bring herself to open her eyes until she feels his timid caress on her cheek and she does her best to keep from burdening him with her lamentations about what they could be when she finally raises her eyes to his. He tastes like chocolate and possibility and for now she’ll just have to comfort herself with the hope that he’ll look at her like this again.

The smile that graces his face as he steps back from her is enough to soothe away any lingering traces of distress she may have been feeling and as she takes one last look at his devastated room she can’t help but feel confident that all of this is just the beginning.

“Merry Christmas, Claire.”

“Merry Christmas, Peter.”

This holiday will never feel complete without Peter again and it’s all she can do to keep the knowing look from her eyes as she prepares to leave.

Yes, this was most definitely just the beginning.

Fic: Saved Jack/Shannon PG-13

Thu, 08 Nov 2007 21:45:42 GMT

Title: Saved
Pairing: Jack/Shannon
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angsty, AU
Disclaimer: Not mine
Author's Note:
Alright, so, for some insane reason instead of starting and finishing my British Lit essay that was due today, this is what I was working on at 3:30 a.m. this morning. This is sort of a companion type piece to my first Jack/Shannon fic but you don't really have to read that to understand this. If you'd like to though, you can find it here. Not sure if it really fits the bill but I hope you like it anyway.

On a side note, for some insane, unfathomable reason I've become ridiculously preoccupied with thinking about nano lately. If there's anyone actually reading this wordy author's note, please pull out a taser and put me out of my misery. Including this fic I've written a total of six rather short one shots my entire life, college is kicking my ass, and we're already 8 days into November. I don't think my brain is actually comprehending how long 50,000 words actually is but for some ridiculous reason I might actually possibly want to attempt this. Please, for the love of god, someone stop me. Now that I've put you through all of that, on to the fic. Oh, and all mistakes are most definitely mine.

They depend on him for hope.

They’d elected him to be their shining pillar of strength and stability without a second thought as to whether he was right for the job, willingly turn a blind eye to the foolishness of begging for hope from a hopeless man.

Even Kate, despite all of her attempts to seal herself off from needing anyone or anything, relies on him for the answer. Beseeches him with trembling hands and a haunted gaze, begs him with a broken smile to protect her from the fear and uncertainty he sees reflecting in her eyes.

Shannon doesn’t turn to him for hope.

Doesn’t look to him for guidance or strength, doesn’t care about the fact that he has neither left to give.

Shannon stopped looking for answers the day her brother died, can’t bring herself to care about the future while she’s choking on regrets from the past. She doesn’t want to be saved; would laugh her sharp, broken laugh at the very suggestion, and for once in his life Jack doesn’t have to play the martyr.

She’s more than willing to give anything he’s willing to take and no matter how hard he tries he can’t force himself to regret this. The line between right and wrong faded to gray the moment their plane broke into pieces across the sky and he can’t help but feel pathetically grateful for the chance she gives him to be selfish.

She tastes like freedom and coconut, reminds him of a life that doesn’t revolve around sand and despair. He knows he should spare her of this, pull back before he brings her along for the crash he can feel himself hurtling towards at an alarming rate, but he just can’t seem to walk away.

Besides, if he mentioned it to her he knows she’d laugh and tell him she hit rock bottom a long time ago.

When it comes down to it, he’ll be grateful for the company.

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He doesn’t want to love her.

He’s played this game too many times before to not be familiar with the way it will end; isn’t prepared to watch one more person walk away from him.

It amazes him every time she lets him touch her and the startling contrast of his rough, callused hands against the smooth expanse of her skin never fails to confuse him. He can’t figure out what she’s doing here and he thinks that maybe if he could just solve that riddle, figure out how to put all of her broken pieces back together, maybe he could convince her to stay.

He has no delusions about them saving each other, no misguided hope for a happily ever after. But he can breathe a little easier when she’s wrapped up in his arms, feels a little lighter when she looks at him and he knows she understands.

They’re trying to get by the best they know how and he just wishes there was some way to make this a little easier on her; some way to remove the dull, empty look from her eyes. She’s never asked him to save her, stopped believing she was worth being saved long before Boone died and added his memory to the list of regrets and abuses that have brought her to this point.

She doesn’t want to be saved, is perfectly content with the bare minimum he’s willing to provide her, and it’s the lack of need he sees in her eyes that finally forces him to try.

He doesn’t want to love her, but that’s never been enough to stop him from falling anyway.

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Sometimes, when she wakes up to find him idly playing with a piece of her hair, admiring the way the early morning light causes it to shine golden and bright, he thinks she might be able to let herself love him. Sees something tender and unspoken in her gaze and tastes something new in her kiss.

The minute they’re forced to leave the relative safety of his tent he knows any and all remnants of the girl he’s starting to suspect isn’t completely gone will be lost, beaten back by the never-ending weariness that accompanies life on this god forsaken island. But when she looks at him in that early morning light and smiles her particular little half smile he’s able to let himself believe that it’s love he sees in her eyes.

Things aren’t getting any better and he doesn’t know where any of them are going to go from here, but he does know that that smile never fails to lessen the pressure that’s constantly building at the base of his neck.

He doesn’t have any answers but she doesn't need them, never attacks him with a torrent of questions she knows he doesn’t have a solution for. She’s content with his touch and his kiss, his body and his mind, and he can’t remember the last time just being Jack was ever enough.

He knows she doesn’t want to love him, and he wishes he could keep himself from hoping that maybe she does anyway.

Either way, this may be the end but at least they aren’t alone.

For now that will have to be enough.

Heroes Fic: Remembering

Sun, 28 Oct 2007 08:48:35 GMT

So...this is officially my first attempt at Heroes fic. I'm always beyond nervous dabbling in a new fandom so I hope this turned out okay. It's Paire, because I can't get enough of them and it's super angsty because apparently someone's been shooting me up with hormones or something when I wasn't looking.

Title: Remembering
Pairing: Peter/Claire
Rating: Um, PG-13, maybe light R for possibly disturbing imagery
Spoilers: Definitely the end of season one. Set in the beginning of season two but since I haven't seen a single episode of that season yet I don't really think that counts as a spoiler
Disclaimer: Not mine
Warnings: Definitely angsty. And AU, because in my head they aren't related. Unless you want to think of them that way, if so knock yourself out. It doesn't really affect the story one way or another. Oh and it's unbetaed, because it takes a miracle for me to actually write anything so I haven't really gotten around to getting one yet.

Her father wants her to forget.

She knows that everything he’s ever done has always been for her, knows that this carefully constructed charade of normalcy that he fought so hard for is for her benefit, and she can’t help but wonder how much more of himself he’ll sacrifice for her before there’s nothing left of the man she remembers with a teddy bear in his hand and a twinkle in his eyes.

She wishes she was still the girl that could’ve believed him when he told her it would get easier with time, wishes she could fill her head with thoughts of cheer routines and nervous dates instead of exploding men and burning cities, if for no other reason than to provide her dad with the illusion of normalcy she was starting to suspect he needed even more than her. But when she closes her eyes all she can see is a burning sky and fleeting images of hopeful brown eyes half concealed by soft brown hair and a crooked smile that took away any chance she had of ever being normal again.

After all her father’s given up for her she desperately wants to let go of ridiculous notions like destiny and fate so she can be the strong, normal girl he needs her to be, but destiny and fate were ridiculous notions Peter defined his life by and she can’t let go of the past if letting go of the past means letting go of Peter.
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Peter Petrelli gave her back the ability to feel the night he stormed into her life with a half-baked plan and his never ending supply of faith, saved her from the overwhelming numbness that had been all she’d been able to feel since she took that first jump by taking the fall instead. It was always easier to be the indestructible girl with Peter by her side, ready and willing to take that jump for her.

With every breath she takes she can feel the always constant ache in her chest and her heart breaks a little more when she realizes that the days of her father always being right have come and gone; there’s no way any of this will ever be easy again. Easy became a figment of the past when Peter’s laugh became nothing more than a vague recollection in her mind and the salty taste of her own tears replaced the taste of him on her tongue.

She can feel her father on the periphery of her life, anxiously awaiting the day she finds her way back to the girl she used to be. She wishes there was some way to put him at ease without weighing him down with the truth that not even the indestructible girl can recover from watching her heart explode across the New York City skyline.

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She knows she’s betraying her father and the normal life he so desperately wants them to have by clinging to the past this way but she only really feels alive in the blissful moments that occur right after she steps off the ledge. The feel of the wind whipping her hair back from her face brings back the exhilaration she felt during all those late night flights with Peter and she’s always pathetically grateful for the sobs that escape her throat when she’s able to remember the heart breaking smile he was never able to contain when she’d squeal at every dip and turn he’d make.

The feel of flesh and bone knitting themselves back together after she hits the ground is replaced by the feeling of phantom fingertips gliding across her skin and her heart breaks all over again when the process is through and she’s just left with the taste of dirt and guilt in her mouth.

She never really understood novel ideas like trust and faith until she saw them shining out of dark brown eyes that always managed to see something good inside of her and she should’ve fought harder to keep his love and light from burning out. The possibility that she could’ve saved him if she had forced Nathan to take her with them twists and burns in her gut like acid and she can’t help but choke on the phantom dream that she could be lying in Peter’s arms right now instead of coughing up dirt and blood as she clumsily tries to stand.

She had thought she was through hating this joke of a power the day Peter first slipped his hand into hers. Being able to keep him alive and well every time he ran head first into some impossible situation was reason enough to be grateful for this twisted gift but now she only feels grateful when she’s balancing on the ledge. Peter sacrificed his life so that they all could live; so that she could live, and she’ll step off this ledge every day for the rest of her life if it keeps his memory alive inside of her.

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Her father wants her to forget.

Wants her to forget all about exploding men and burning cities and warm eyes and love and trust and all of the other fifty thousand things Peter Petrelli brought into her life.

Peter knew who she was before she was even sure of that herself. She’d never really felt completely at home with herself before she found a place in his arms and she doesn’t know how to breathe without his hope and his love and his faith in her life.

She loves her father and she’d do almost anything to repay him back for all of the things he’s sacrificed for her but she knows the last little bit of herself that’s left standing would dry up and blow away in the wind if she completely forgot the feel of Peter’s lips against her own and how complete she felt in his arms.

She can go to school and attend her classes and pretend to the best of her ability that she isn’t fantasizing about a small New York apartment with an excellent view and the thousands of kisses and touches they shared there but she can’t forget everything she’s been through. Forgetting means ignoring her ability, and ignoring her ability would effectively put a stop to her nightly escapades.

She can almost feel Peter beside her every time she takes that fall and there’s no way she can forget the only thing that keeps her moving.

Peter died so they could live, and she’ll die over and over again if it will keep him with her.

Fic: Moving On

Sat, 01 Sep 2007 08:00:35 GMT

So, I'm aware that this title is pretty..not good. But it's really late and college has been taking up all of the time I used to dedicate towards sleep so you'll have to forgive me. I have zero clue where this story came from and I wanted to get it up before I go into hibernation mode for the next 12 hours so again forgive me, but it's not betaed. Hope it's okay anyway, it just kinda popped out.

Title: Moving On
Pairing: George/Izzie
Rating: PG-13?
Spoilers: Season Three
Disclaimer: Not Mine

When his dad died, he thought that marrying Callie was the answer, that making up with her like his father had wanted him to would somehow solve all of the other problems that were slowly suffocating the life out of him. She made him feel something other than the debilitating numbness he’d been choking on since Dr. Bailey had snuffed out that last little bit of hope he’d been clinging to, and he just thought that if he could dedicate himself to her, tie himself to her in such a life-altering way, that she could pull him back from the edge he’d been balancing on and he could become the man his father would’ve wanted him to be.

He wants to be a good husband, wants to be worthy of all of the love and devotion he sees shining out of his wife’s chocolate colored orbs. He’s always been the good son, the good brother, the good friend; he’d always assumed that being the good husband would come just as easily to him as the first incision he’d made in med-school, and it’s tearing him apart that no matter what he tries, there isn’t a chance in hell he’s going to excel at this. Because when he closes his eyes he dreams in shades of gold and yellow, and when he licks his lips he can’t taste anything but vanilla cream. He would give anything to think of nothing but his wife, but every time he takes a breath all he can feel is Izzie.

He just wishes there was some way to do the right thing without breaking his wife’s heart.

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She knew it was a mistake, knew it was the wrong thing to do the second the words came out of his mouth. His dad had just died and he was broken and confused and she knew there was no way he had really thought this through, so she can’t help but feel that she’s just as responsible for this catastrophe as he is.

He was a desperate man just trying to find a solution and she should’ve loved him enough to force him to wait, she knows that now. She’s always been one step ahead of him but she thought that if they got married, if they were tied together in such a permanent way, that one day he could grow to love her just as much as she loves him. Some part of her has known from the very beginning that he needs Izzie to get by, knew enough to feel threatened by the blonde’s very presence from day one, but she had been so certain that saying I do would prevent her from losing the only man that’s ever really loved her for her. But as the days go by she can feel him slipping further and further away and she knows it’s only a matter of time before he’s somewhere only Izzie Stevens can reach.

She never thought she’d say this, but right now, in this very moment, she’d give anything to be that naïve, annoyingly cheerful, optimistic blonde.

He’s trying, she can see him trying so hard to hold on to this, to do everything he can to keep from hurting her, but seeing Izzie Steven’s face reflecting in his eyes every time he looks at her is doing more damage than she can possibly explain, and she finally loves him enough to let him go.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

She isn’t this person, isn’t the girl that swoops down on someone else’s marriage and destroys someone else’s dream just so she can be happy. She’s never been Callie’s biggest fan, sure, but she knows what it feels like to have your heart broken in two and she never would’ve wanted to cause anyone to feel like that, even Callie. But he’s George, the same George that stayed with her on the bathroom floor and let her crawl into his bed and steal his tooth brush and she doesn’t know how to live her life without him.

She didn’t realize how much she needed him to get by until that day Callie walked in with a ring on her finger and a smug smile plastered across her face, didn’t know that having him was an option until she tasted the alcohol on his breath and felt his touch on her skin.

He’s married, he’s told her more times than she can possibly count that he’s a married man, and she doesn’t want to be a home wrecker but he’s George and the spark she feels when she kisses him feels a lot like home and not remotely tragic and when he looks at her with that look in his eyes she knows there’s no turning away from this.

It’s almost enough to make her cry when he looks at her and she can see he’s found himself again, and when he touches her face like he can’t believe she’s here, sharing this moment with him, she knows there’s no way she’ll ever regret this.

Vid Recs

Sat, 25 Aug 2007 00:55:33 GMT

For anyone that's interested, I've been spending far too much time on youtube lately so I thought I'd share some of the gems that I've found.

Grey's Anatomy Vids

Who Knew- an Izzie/Denny vid by Isabuffy. I don't usually like Izzie/Denny videos but this song fits perfectly and Isabuffy did a really good job with this one.
Whiskey Lullaby- an angsty but perfect AU Izzie/George video by Manda06d
Mad World- a shout out video to the dark and twisty Meredith we all know and love by mcdreamyreally
Better Days- A beautiful ensemble video by Signseeker that focuses on everything our little baby interns went through this season. This vid makes my heart ache while somehow getting me pumped for season 4 at the same time.
Fix You- Because it's an awesome song. And SydGillyKC made an awesome vid that reminds me why I love this show so much
World Turned Over- I'm sure most Gizzie fans have already seen this but it's one of my favs so I thought I'd share it for anyone who hasn't. Signseeker did an unbelievable job with this.
The Scientist- by BethanyJill. Again, most Gizzie fans have probably seen this but for anyone who hasn't it's AMAZING.
Trying to Recall- An angsty Burktina video by ttiziana that will definitely make your heart ache.
Feeling a Moment- And lastly, another awesome ensemble vid by Hollywonka. There's a high-res version available you can download, which I definitely recommend. The end part of this video is especially fantastic.

The O.C. vids
I know these probably won't be as popular, especially since I've got a major thing for all things Ryan/Summer, but I thought I'd post a few in case anyone's interested. I'm only going to post a few of these but if anyone actually ships these two other than me let me know.

Unfaithful- I know a lot of people have made videos with this song but crazygirl786 really did an amazing job with this. It's an AU Seth/Summer/Ryan video. She did an amazing job fitting the clips with the song with this, watch it and you'll know what I mean.
Thinking Over- Another unbelievable Seth/Summer/Ryan video by crazygirl786. Her work is amazing and this is no exception, another one of my favorite videos ever. If you like her work let her know, maybe we can convince her to make some more vids.
Cupid's Chokehold- Something fluffy and amusing to make up for the angst of the last two. Starryeyesxxbitten did a really good job with this, it always makes me smile.

Lost
I'm officially a Jack whore.

Tonight's the Night the World Begins Again- an amazing ensemble vid by Spongesgotskillz set to Better Days by the Goo Goo Dolls. Season three spoilers.
Hurt- an angsty Jack centric vid by KevlarUK, based on the season three finale. Poor jack, this one definitely makes my heart ache.
God Help the Outcasts-another fantastic ensemble vid by leylin. Kate's pov. How perfect is this song for them?
So Far Away- One of my absolute favorite vids of all time. It's an AU Jack/Shannon vid by starryeyesxxbitten that's absolutely fantastic. I don't want to spoil it for anyone but the scene at the end where he's at their apartment remembering completely breaks my heart, as does watching him watch her not remember. Absolutely fantastic.

Constantine
I don't know if I'm the only person in love with this movie or not, but if anyone else likes it here are some great John/Angela videos.

Girl In the War- an awesome John/Angela vid by BeachParrot08. I think she did a really good job with this, I love this song and it's always made me think of these two. I'm glad someone made a vid for it.
If Everyone Cared- another amazing vid by BeachParrot08. She claims it's not her best but I think she did an amazing job. The song works really well and she did a great job matching the clips to it.
Saving Me- I think this song works really well for this movie, rambal4730 did a good job with this.
Nobody's Home- an angsty Angela centric video by salienne de lioncourt
Taking Over Me- another amazing shipper vid. Jaxierogue did an awesome job matching the clips to the song in this one.

The X-Files
So apparently I've gotten really behind or something, I had no idea they were working on another X-Files movie. Let's hope everything works out with that, Mulder and Scully are so adorable together.

Run-a sweet, adorable shipper vid by yolycoProductions with a neat montage at the end.
Fix You- I may have a thing for this song but this is another great shipper vid. Clarity66 did a really good job with this, especially towards the middle/end.
Scully's Immortal- One of the saddest vids I've seen in a long time by sanj008. Focuses on Scully's reactions during season 8. Tissue warning.
Ordinary Day- a little sweetness and fluff to save the day after the angst in the last one. I was a little surprised to see an X-Files vid with this song but ejfurnia did an awesome job with this. It's sweet and adorable and perfect.

Bourne
I swear I'm almost done. This is just my current obsession so I thought I'd share the few vids I was able to find in case anyone else was won over by Ultimatum. Not to upset the Marie shippers, but I'm officially in love with Jason/Nicky. Anyone else?

Oh, I'm pretty certain these all have spoilers for Ultimatum.

Before It's Too Late- a Jason/Nicky vid by bourneandnicky
Jason/Nicky- a fantastic Jason/Nicky vid by ilsunjo
Sober- Alright, so I have an unhealthy attachment to this video. I love the song and I think it fits perfectly for these two. MuzzyOlorea did an AMAZING job with this. The whole video is fantastic but I especially love the part where he crashes through the window and everything that follows. Possibly one of my favorite videos ever.

I'm officially done, I promise. This post may be one of the most obvious displays of a girl with too much time on her hands ever but I hope you guys get some enjoyment out of some of these, I know I did. I could've rec'd several more videos so if there's anything you're particularly interested in, let me know. And one last thing, if you do enjoy these please leave a comment or rating or something so whoever created it knows how much we like their work. We all know how awesome it feels to get feedback.

Thank you thank you thank you!

Mon, 02 Jul 2007 02:26:43 GMT

*Squee* I'm not sure who, but someone nominated Drowning in the Lost fic awards and I just wanted to say thank you so much! This is officially my first nomination ever, and no matter what I'm beyond excited about it. I know Jack and Shannon aren't exactly a very popular pairing, so I'm glad people were still able to enjoy it. A ton of fantastic stories were nominated this round, and thanks again to whoever nominated mine!

My first Lost fic! (and for once it's not a drabble)

Mon, 11 Jun 2007 02:10:26 GMT

Title: Drowning
Pairing: Jack/Shannon
Rating: Mild R
Warnings: Angsty and one of the vaguest sex scenes you'll ever find
Disclaimer: Not mine
Author's Note: Thanks to holycitygirl for the beta, this would've been a lot more confusing without her. This is officially my first Lost fic and my first real fic so I hope everyone enjoys.

It's the broken way he whispers her name that keeps her coming back to him every night, keeps her from walking away from the desperation she sees in his eyes. She's never exactly been anyone's definition of a philanthropist before, and she almost wishes she could go back to the girl she used to be, the girl that was perfectly capable of leaving, of watching someone suffocate under the weight of their problems.

But for some reason, watching Jack slowly crumble to pieces under the weight of trying to support them all, support her, doesn't leave her with the sense of satisfaction she's accustomed to, doesn't leave her feeling superior and pleased with her place in the world.

She had stopped feeling like she had a place in the world a long time ago.

Now her world revolves around miles of sand that constantly grates against her skin, scrubbing away any defense she ever had to keep the world at bay and an unforgiving sun that burned away the last remaining bits of herself she had managed to keep together.

She's been drowning since Boone died, with no one there to tether her to the world, and she had lost the will to do it herself the second that plane hit the water. She welcomed the numbness his death had brought with open arms and is more than content to never feel any of the pain or fear this island has to offer again.

But when she looks at Jack and sees the ever present hope dim and go out of his eyes, watches him crumble and fall from the strain of always having to play the hero, she slowly feels the weight of his hollow stare tear apart the fragile cocoon she had surrounded herself with the day her brother had died, feels him pulling her back to reality so quickly she can barely remember how to breathe.

In that moment she hates him so much she can taste the bitter bile burning at the back of her throat, and she wants nothing more than to launch herself at him, to pound away at him until he shatters and breaks into a million pieces across the sand, until there is nothing left to make her feel this unbearable tightness in her chest.

As soon as the image flitters through her mind it is gone, replaced by desperate images of Jack fighting to save her brother, fighting to save them all from the very moment they crashed onto this god forsaken island. Necessity has forced him to be the hero he had never wanted to be, and she doesn’t know how to shield him from all of this, to give him back a fraction of what he has given up for them.

She can see all of the disasters tearing into him, all of the deaths piling up on his shoulders. It’s never enough for him to have the right answer, they always demand that he have the right answer from the very beginning, and she can see the memory of every wrong decision ripping him apart at the seams, haunting him with the lives that could’ve been saved, all of the changes that could’ve been made. In that very moment she knows that she’ll do everything she can to repair this broken man, try to find some way to restore him to the person he used to be.

After all he has sacrificed for them, the idea of walking away and leaving him behind never even crosses her mind and she knows that if Jack had managed to find a way to hold on to some part of himself, he would do everything he could to do the same for her.

**************************************************
The first night she goes to him on the beach, the night she sees the last little bit of himself he has managed to cling to blow away in the breeze as Kate pulls Sawyer into her tent, she is fully prepared for the inevitable rejection she knows is coming, has braced herself for his dismissal before her feet have even hit the sand.

This is the only way she knows of to pull him back from the edge of the abyss he has been balancing on for the last few weeks and if he can’t accept this from her, if she can’t find some way to bring some warmth and light back into his life, she is terrified that she is going to have to watch him fall over the edge, watch him take the last little bit of hope she has left for herself with him.

As she stands in front of him on the sand with the waves crashing in over their feet she can see the question forming in his eyes, hear the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. She doesn’t know how to explain, can’t possibly think of the right words to say to let him know that she feels like she is drowning too and that she needs him to step back from the edge before he pulls her over with him.

She hopes he can’t feel the question in her trembling hand as she lightly traces the latest scar running along his jaw, hopes against all odds that he can understand that the only thing she can do to help him is to offer him this last little piece of herself that she has managed to hold onto.

She had braced herself for the embarrassment and shame she knew she would feel when he turned her away, but she hadn’t prepared herself for the warmth she feels as he pulls her body closer to his or the overwhelming desperation she had only ever imagined she’d taste in his kiss.

The relief she feels as he pulls her into his tent is almost enough to take her breath away and the brief spark she sees return to his eyes as he lays her down and slowly slides into her warmth makes her feel warm again for the first time since she’d lost the life she left behind. And when he wraps his body around hers and experiences his first peaceful night of sleep in months she feels that warmth slowly spread throughout her entire body, filling her with the knowledge that this is her purpose and that she will find a way to make his eyes bright again.

************************************************
When she started all of this she had just been trying to pull him back, give something back to him to make up for all of the things he has lost. But as the weeks go on she starts to feel a new tightening in her chest every time he smiles at her and stands a little taller and walks a little straighter, and she’s petrified that he’ll be able to taste the difference in her kiss or feel it in the tremble of her hands.

She’s petrified because she’s so far in now that to pull back will break her apart even more than him, petrified because now that he’s on the path to being whole she knows it’s only a matter of time before he leaves her behind to drown in all of the bitter, ugly things she knows he will eventually see inside of her.

Without him, without his light and goodness there to surround her and constantly force her to try to be better, to be more than all of the things Boone always told her she was, she knows she’ll suffocate under the weight of all of this and be swallowed up by the emptiness inside of her. She knows that there isn’t enough good in her to keep someone like Jack with her for long and every day she has to fight a little bit harder to keep him from seeing the desperation in her eyes.

But every night when he comes to her she can’t stop herself from clinging to him a little tighter, trying to pour a little more of herself into him in exchange for everything she takes. Now that he’s strong enough to stand on his own two feet and still support someone else she can see Kate’s desire growing for him a little more every day and she’s just waiting for the day he leaves her for someone he actually has a chance to save.

So every night when he comes to her she kisses him a little harder and presses a little closer to him in her sleep in an attempt to keep him here as long as she can, and when he finally walks away from her for good she only hopes that he’s left enough of himself behind, that she’s able to find her way back to the surface.

Fic: Making the Right Decision

Thu, 07 Jun 2007 06:28:38 GMT

So this is just a short little thingy I wrote for ink_stain's "75 Things to be Happy About" ficathon that I stole from pirateygoodness's page. You can head on over to http://ink-stain.livejournal.com/1020123.html to participate. I think we could all use a little more fluff in our lives. Now, on to the fic. It's not very long and again, unbetaed, but I hope you guys like it anyway.

Title: Making the Right Decision
Pairing: George/Izzie
Spoilers: Up to the season three finale
Rating: PG/PG 13
Disclaimer: Definitely not mine
Promt 27: Getting what you want and what you need at the same time
Author's Note: I'd like to repeat that I'm definitely more of a lurker so I hope this turned out okay.

He had tried so hard, fought so hard to be the man his father would've wanted him to be. Fought so hard to breathe life back into a marriage that never should have happened in the first place, poured all of his energy into erasing the taste of summer and hope from his mind.

Callie was beautiful and kind and giving and he would give anything to spare her from all of this, to wake up in the morning and not wish for blond hair instead of black. He wanted nothing more than to be satisfied with being a good man that went home to his wife, but his father died and he failed his exam and his feet had followed the path his heart had been dying to take without any conscience thought on his part.

After all they’d been through in the last couple weeks he was almost afraid she would send him away, take her revenge for being left alone at the church. He felt like he was spinning out of control and as he knocked on her door he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with the sudden paranoia that if Izzie turned him away, if she finally stopped believing in all of the good things she always said she saw in him, he would crumble under the weight of everything that had gone wrong and blow away in the breeze. But as the door opened and beautiful, tired brown eyes finally locked with his he almost wanted to cry at the relief he felt at finally making the right decision.

Izzie was soft and warm and so bright and he’d been drowning in how much he wanted her these last couple of weeks, but he didn’t realize until that very moment just how much he needed her to get by, needed the way she always knew what he was trying to say before he even opened his mouth.

It wasn’t until she pulled him inside and closed the door behind them that he was finally able to breathe again, and when she pulled him down to bed and allowed him to wrap his arms around her and settle his head over her heart, he finally felt like he was home again for the first time since his father died.

He didn’t know how he was going to explain all of this to Callie, didn’t know how to salvage whatever was left of his career, but he finally knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Izzie was his future and as he felt her press closer to him in her sleep he felt the last piece of the puzzle finally fall into place.

Fic: Red Velvet Cake

Tue, 01 May 2007 23:35:08 GMT

So..I have no idea what I was thinking with this. For the most part I'm 95% lurker, 5% writer so I don't know what possessed me to write anything to begin with but on top of that I'm kinda obsessed with the whole George/Izzie thing so...I have no idea what I was thinking with this. And since I never write or really use livejournal at all this is unbetaed and my journal will probably always be kinda bare like this but I did want to credit profoundly_grey for the icon. I'm not really sure if that's the normal way people credit when they take icons but I didn't want to be a thief so..there ya go. Forgive me for this. I LOVE Bang and Gizzie but I hope at least a few people enjoy this.

Fic: Red Velvet Cake
Author: stolen_kisses87
Rating: PG, maybe PG-13. Definitely nothing even close to bad
Pairing: umm...Burke/Izzie (I KNOW)
Disclaimer: All of this belongs to ABC and Shonda Rhimes and probably several other people that have nothing to do with me.
Spoilers: All the way up to Desire
Summary: He knew she'd pick the red velvet cake.

He knew she’d pick the red velvet cake. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Izzie Stephens fully understood why the red velvet cake was the answer, why the type of cake mattered in the first place. Out of all the members of their dysfunctional little group, Izzie Stephens would always be the one most like him. They were the doctors that somehow managed to be people too, that cared about Thanksgiving and appreciated the value of a day without surgery.

He can’t help but wonder how things would’ve turned out if he had given that cup of coffee to the girl with a smile that reminded him of all the things they were fighting to save and eyes that made him believe it was okay to be just the man and not the surgery god he’d come to be. Okay to just be Preston instead of the always impressive Dr. Preston Burke.

With Christina it’s always hard lines and rough edges and the constant push and pull of two people trying to take when neither one has ever been willing to give an inch. Life had demanded that she be tough to in order to succeed, molded her into sharp hips and harsh words that allowed her to always feel like she was one step ahead. It was always a constant competition to see who would come out on top and at the end of the day he was left feeling empty and tired instead of like he won anything at all.

Izzie was..soft. A compassionate girl with a soft heart that had been broken too many times to ever fully be repaired. Kind and warm on the outside with an inner strength she somehow always managed to share with anyone around her in need of it even when it seemed like she had nothing left to give. She would understand the limits of how much he had to give while still knowing exactly what to offer in return.

If he had given that cup of coffee to the girl with the heartbreaking smile and compassionate eyes he’d probably be watching her poring over magazines full of pretty girls in pretty wedding dresses right now instead of watching her slowly fall apart at the seams. Her eyes would be full of laughter and love instead of tears shed from the heart break of falling for another man she was never meant to have. She’d be even more excited about every minute detail of the wedding than he was, and every night he’d come home to the home she was just as eager to make as him and surround himself in her warmth and love.

If only he had given her that cup of coffee.