One 9mm | One Bottle of Whiskey | One Shotglass

| P L O T T I N G |

Sat, 17 Jan 2009 18:56:12 GMT

Say Hello, Say Goodbye

Sat, 10 Jan 2009 19:19:37 GMT

[[This post brought to you by Bear McCreary, which I highly recommend listening to. Apparently it was necessary to split this up into two posts, so this will be linked to the EP.]]

Dani Reese tipped her face into the wind as she trudged down the path that lead to the hut she shared with Austin, and in flickers, she could feel echoes of the past. There was nothing but a heavy, heavy silence around her like the deep drifts of snow that had now vanished. Her boot came down against the worn path and for every footstep, she remembered with an intensity that frightened her. She remembered his face that first day he’d come to her, stubble on his cheeks, those damn sunglasses on his face making him look serious business and just about crazy badass. God, she could see him standing there right now as she moved through the near cool afternoon air.

”Detective Reese,” he’d said. He’d been scruffy and jittery with caffeine and sleeplessness, and happy to get out his jeans. Happier still in a guarded sort of way when he’d gotten used the water after running and jumping into it.

“Officer Austin,” she’d shot back, “You look like shit." There had been a time when he was annoying, when he was just this Austin she didn’t know from anyone and thought he was just some giant walking dork. Reese crossed the bridge, clinging to the rope railing as she overbalanced slightly.

“Just saying,” Reese had murmured, “clothes are generally considered good things as they cover up your...” she tried to find something not rude, “dangly bits, there, Austin.” Her eyebrows had arched, then. “You weren’t part of some nudist cop colony, were you?”

“My dangly bits?” he repeated blankly, then glanced down, making the connection. “Do my dangly bits bother you, Reese?”

She blinked at the memory, so sharp it hurt, so perfectly there she could see the slight smile on his face. Her feet hit springy undergrowth as she remembered stupidly singing him to sleep, and how his face had relaxed in that perfect moment where he fell asleep for the first time ever. Reese looked up at the hut, then, frowning as the door was slightly open. Her heart hit her throat and she began moving up the steps two at a time.

Austin, fucking hell, Austin, you better be in there. Please, if there is a God anywhere, let him be there. She couldn’t find breath to call out as her fingers wrapped around the door and pulled. A soft scratching sound came from somewhere inside and she tried to calm herself.

“Austin?” she called in a high, thin voice that didn’t remotely sound like hers. It was broken, strained, wrong. Her breath caught as she lit a candle and then another. The sound of paws on her woven grass floor had her heart roaring in her head. “Sarah?” Tears welled and her breath caught as a soft chuff split the air and the jaguar’s head appeared from around the corner.

She’d come home to a baby fucking maneating cat one day. Austin had been all scratched up, they’d had this weird fucking conversation about her dad, cats, time travel -- general stupid, and for them, normal shit. And she’d let him keep it. Sarah. Sarahcat. The damn cat was huge, now, solid and powerfully built. She stared at the jaguar and then at the shirt in her mouth, and then glanced around for the note Austin had left her (the one she hadn’t moved); it was gone and in its place, set at an angle were his sunglasses. They made her ache even as Sarah padded over to her, long, sleek, and lanky, all fur, all warm, and she knew. She didn’t need to hear the jaguar’s rumbling or the dead quiet to know.

Oh God no, she mouthed. Please no. Her fingers brushed the still warm fabric as Sarah dropped it into her hands. She swallowed hard and stared down at the black (the Public Enemy shirt had made her laugh, once) of it for a long time before pulling it on. It looked ridiculous hanging on her frame, but she didn’t care. It was still warm. He’d come home, he’d come home. He’d come back. He’d come back and it had taken him. She pulled that warmth around her and caught his familiar scent, blinking into the sudden, frightening stab of loss. If she made a sound, it didn’t feel human as her knees gave.

Dani remembered his face, all angles, the way his lips curved, the way he felt curled around her. She remembered sharp words and she remembered the way she’d felt when she’d tried to tell him how much he meant to her. God, she remembered it all. He’d come home, he’d come back. It’s still warm, it’s still...

“Bring him back,” she gasped, shaking as Sarah wove herself back and forth before shoving her great head against Dani’s chest. It almost knocked her over but she clung to the jaguar for support and tried to breathe through the great tearing sobs. “Bring him back. You bring him back! ”Her cheeks were wet, her eyes stung, and it felt like... Reese covered her mouth to stop whatever sound kept coming out, but it didn’t help. The powerful bulk of Sarah’s body was the only thing that kept her upright.

“Bring him back, bring him...bring him back. I’m not done.” Her voice was a high keen that hurt her head, that split her in two. Dani shook her head and tried to steady herself, tried to find some shred of strength to draw on. He came back. “I’m sorry, God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, I looked everywhere, I did. I looked everywhere, just bring him back. Bring him back.”

Silence answered her, but his voice in her head was quiet, calm.

Hi, Reese.

Hi, Austin. I think I failed to mention that I love you, but I’m always too late, aren’t I?

His voice didn’t answer her.

“Bring him back,” she whispered. “I love him. There! I said it. I love him. Now bring him back.” Nothing happened. Nothing at all. Not even a breeze. Not his voice from the other room, nor his weight pressing into her. Austin was gone, just like that, and all she had left was what he’d given her; the chance to be loved, the chance to learn how to love.

[[Continued here.]]

While the Heat Sinks In [12/5]

Fri, 05 Dec 2008 01:41:06 GMT

Reese didn’t know where she was going and she didn’t give a shit about the heat. It was a Friday morning (she’d been counting and she liked Fridays) and she’d decided that since she couldn’t find Austin, that he wasn’t there to be found, she was getting away. She’d spoken to Del, but that was it. No one else, though she’d meant to stop by and visit Tricia, she’d been too busy pulling together her supplies to remember. It had been late when she’d left her cave, the backpack light but filled with useful things (like a jug with water and two cool mineral cups wrapped in cloth, and her herb kit just in case she ran into trouble). She’d found white things. The fabric was light, the pants soft, the shirt billowing, though it clung to her shoulders and stuck to her back now.

Sweat dripped off the end of her nose and she wiped at it absently as she crested the hill that was studded with rocks. Reese knew she was probably lost, but it wasn’t like the Island was going to suddenly get any bigger. She didn’t let it bother her and turned her face into the sun, letting it wash over her like rain as she leaned her weight into the leg that had found a sturdy rock. Before her, there was a clearing and a few dozen boulders and slabs of rocks were scattered about like dice thrown by some giant hand. She’d fallen silent after her conversation with Del and she wasn’t sure she felt like speaking again for a long while. Maybe she’d say something to Austin.

Maybe.

Her sharp eyes ran over the landscape, the wind tugging at her dirty shirt and the gritty crust of sweat that had dried in streaks on her face. Walking was therapeutic, exhausting, comforting, never mind that she’d bruised herself several times, cut her knee once (her rusty laughter had amused her even then). Maybe she’d find him anyway. Yeah, sure, they’d looked, but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough, not for her. Which is why she was walking. Or, at the moment, thinking and staring down into that clearing. For a moment, though, she closed her eyes and focused on the heat beating into her like a fist. It was like being roasted alive, but she was beyond it, studying it like it was some new sort of creature she’d never met. The humidity saturated the air, sucking at her skin and burning in her throat, but she was detached as her eyes flicked open again and studied the slope she’d have to navigate. Reese gritted her teeth as she moved, trying to keep her balance.

She was a third of the way down when the rock she was anchoring to gave.

Reese had a moment where everything slowed, where she might have been laughing, because in a sense, it was hilarious. It was fine, really, as sky turned over earth and dull to sharp pains bit and scratched at her. She supposed that was one way to get down a slope. For a good hour, she lay sprawled at the bottom of the slope as if it was the best possible place for her to have landed, and stared up into the cloudless blue sky as she catalogued aches and pains. Nothing serious or broken or sprained. Going limp had helped. Her head hurt, though, and she could feel a knot flaring up on the back of her head, but ignored it. Could have been worse.

She could have landed on a snake or something. Instead, she’d mostly landed in ferns and a few rocks dug against her body. When she felt like she’d stayed still long enough, she carefully started working herself into an upright position (like the trays on airplanes) and went searching for her water jug, which had gone flying. She felt dry again which amused her because she was pretty much soaked with sweat. It wasn’t bad, just a little scrape in the back of her throat. She licked her lips and ducked through the huge jungle leaves, searching for her wayward water. Eventually, she did find it and secured it to her backpack, ignoring the sting of bruises and cuts. There was a scrape and tear at her shoulder that stung fiercely.

She’d get to the clearing, pick a rock, and patch herself up. Reese wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand. It came away bloody and she cussed silently. Too fucking bad. It was just a little spill. No shooting pain, no broken bones, maybe a little broken dignity, but who the fuck was out here to notice? She was so far inland that it didn’t matter.

No one came out here.

She broke through the dense growth into the clearing and froze, almost daring to hope it was Austin. It wasn't, and she watched some sort of Island animal take off before she could see what it was. Reese found the nearest flat rock and frowned as she lay back and let the sun try to burn her. She'd stay just a little while longer and then she'd keep moving, keep looking.

UNDER EVERY ROCK: WEDNESDAY | NOV 26

Tue, 02 Dec 2008 03:34:07 GMT

She needed to look. It wasn’t a want anymore and it wasn’t a whim, it was a horrible looming pit of need. She had a wilderness hiker’s backpack (it was sandy brown, buckles and pockets and compartments everywhere) filled with essential shit -- water, food that would keep, bandages, herbs, a bedroll, a few changes of clothes. She’d woken up cold and sweating and annoyed when she realized that it had only been an hour and a half, but she forced herself to move anyway.

It was early morning, the kind where dawn’s fingers were still leaving faint pink streaks in the brightening sky.

Her lips were tight when she started walking and she stopped halfway to New Atlantis, eyes closed as she tried not to think. The torrent of thoughts came anyway. He could be dead. He could be gone. He could have been eaten by something. Austin. Her Austin. She’d patched him up, helped him find who he was, who he might become, patched him up more, watched him grow, had said enough to him, had loved him, had found him when there was nothing but darkness, had pulled him out, called him back. Reese took a sip of water from a bottle, fingers trembling.

He’d look for her.

She wouldn’t give up on him.

Reese growled under her breath and shoved herself upright, wiry muscles taut as the tension in her thoughts crawled through her body like electricity. She had to look. She’d cover the surface of this reality if she had to, every last bit. She was going to do this.

Now.

Songs to Silence

Tue, 18 Nov 2008 04:50:29 GMT

Weary was a good word.

Exhausted and emotionally drained or maybe even just sad fit as well.

She'd pulled on a deep green robe, found a pair of slippers, and had walked from her empty, silent hut to the caves. Reese found her way to the hot springs in the dark, though she lit the paper lantern with its flickering tea light once there, and sat awkwardly against a large rock, watching the water ripple. Her reflection looked haggard and she drew a hand across her eyes.

Austin was somewhere out there. Not gone. Not disappeared. Just away with the jaguar, Sarah. His note lay where he'd left it along with the empty spaces that were his own (the chair he sat in, his side of the bed, the spot he liked to sit at that was never too close to the fire, his mug). It was too quiet and too late and she'd wandered away from it. Now, she winced as she neatly dangled her legs into the water, the long silk fabric folded into her lap as she stared out across the water.

It was still too quiet.

The jukebox had been playing her Cardassian folk tunes of late and so often she knew the words by memory. They were old things, legacies of sunshine and desert winds, and she found herself humming them, then singing them. Kardasi sung was beautiful, it filled her mouth, broke the silence, and made her feel a little better. The one she found herself singing was about a girl waiting for the sun to rise after a long, long darkness. It was simple and clear and easy.

Reese closed her eyes and hummed to the throbbing of her injured ankle.

Tea & Other Things of Minor Importance

Fri, 14 Nov 2008 05:07:14 GMT

It was the angles she couldn't seem to get right and that was what took her most of the final week to fix. Twenty five pieces to each set, all the exact same size. While she had neither silver nor gold, the pieces were done in smokey quartz and some sort of translucent aquamarine colored stone she'd found a deposit of way back in the caves when she was looking for something else entirely. She finished polishing off the last smokey quartz piece and frowned at it before letting out a sigh. They'd do.

The eight dice had been done long ago and she found she enjoyed working with obsidian, sharp though it could be. Finding the stone proved not at all challenging since her hut was sitting up against a dormant volcano. She simply followed it down and hunted for the glistening black rock until she located the right pieces.

The diagrams and instructions for the kotra board were in the back of some Preloc novel that fell apart when she opened it and she took a day or so to study it before she found herself absently making the board base, which turned into nothing because she scrapped it and started over again. The second one came out better and more so when she polished it up.

As she was all finished, she put the pieces (all fifty-eight) into a pouch and hefted the board under an arm as she set out for the orchids. There was tea in her backpack, cookies, too, and she was dressed for gardening complete with the tools in her backpack. She'd already finished the ornately carved stools and the game table two weeks before; they sat glistening in the afternoon light, waiting to be complete.

Reese arrived out of breath, but pleased, and neatly set the board up. She'd even managed a neat basket under the table where the pieces would be safe from prying monkeys. There was a chance she'd never even play the game, but it felt good to do.

She set her backpack down and eased herself down against a stool, smiling with the flushed pleasure of a job well and truly done.

What Little Girls Are Made Of

Thu, 23 Oct 2008 18:52:29 GMT

It had begun with a huge Sarahcat in her face and a paw on her chest, a roll off the bed, and the sudden realization that a) it was fucking early and b) everything was a lot bigger. Her clothes had grown, too. And her boots. And Austin was naked and like...oh hell no. No, no, fucking no. When your body goes Holy shit GROSS when you're faced with a normally attractive bed partner (who was maybe about ten at the moment) something completely and horribly wrong. So was the shriek she let out.

And the way she pulled a sweater on that went down to her knees. And the way she ran, screaming, out the door...all the way to the Compound, straight through the clinic, where she launched herself at Julian Bashir.

"JULIAAAAAAAAN," she wailed, clinging to him. "I'M LITTLE AND AUSTIN WAS NAAAAKED AND HE HAS COOOOOTIES AND MY CLOTHES ARE TOO BIG AND I WANT SOME HOT CHOCOLATE!"

Nevermind the Masks

Mon, 20 Oct 2008 02:59:35 GMT

"At least it's not raining," Reese said in that same quiet tone, linking her arm through his properly as she fell into step beside him. Walking itself wasn't as much of a bother as it had been at the beginning of the evening. It required s sort of glide that was all hip and leg that swirled her dress against her bare legs, the fabric whisper soft. As if they'd never really stopped dancing, she matched him easily, fitting herself to him comfortably so they could walk together without any strain. After a long silence and the dance far enough behind them, Reese tilted her face into the wind and smiled.

Reese realized she was still unsettled, but moving seemed to help and the more distance they put between the ball and themselves the better she felt. Her fingers against Garak's arm and the easy movement as they walked was what she needed the most. Occasionally, her cheek fell easily against his shoulder but it was neither awkward or uncomfortable. The breeze rippled by, catching the orchids in her hair and a heady wave of perfume broke free from them.

Reese smiled.

"I haven't danced like that in a long time," she said, obviously pleased. It was an indirect compliment, something she knew he'd catch.

A Day Like Today

Sat, 18 Oct 2008 22:32:59 GMT

She'd fussed long enough with her hands in her hair and smoothing the little wrinkles the formed against her dress as she moved. Reese sat on very bottom step, her fingers on the small blue orchid that matched the ones on her hair. She'd cut it carefully -- maybe more carefully than she'd cut her own -- carefully wrapping the very bottom of the stem in a pad she'd soaked with water and then placed it in a leaf wrap that wouldn't leak. She tied it with dark thread she'd picked from the hem of a pair of pants that wouldn't miss it. At least the orchid would stay fresh throughout the evening, which was the whole point of the painstaking process anyway. Besides, it had kept her from fidgeting even after she'd finished sliding into her dress. Her shoes were evil incarnate, but she'd put them on anyway. They did illegal things to her legs. Her fingertips traced the rounded end of the the orchid's stem and she stared at it, at the curve of the green as it gave way to startling blue.

She'd been struck speechless by it when she'd seen the first flash of blue and knew almost instantly what to do with it. It felt like it had been placed there just for that express purpose and so she'd listened, tended it, and this morning, she'd carefully, so carefully cut them from the root plant. They'd grow back, though -- she'd consulted every book she could find (and quietly prodded Garak about it over tea the day before, just to make sure she wouldn't inadvertently kill the plant) to make sure -- and the spikes would be heavy with flowers again soon. She'd left the main spike alone, but the two with flowers, she'd taken. It had looked fine when she'd left it, but she couldn't help but worry.

Maybe it wasn't about the plant.

The wind caught her hair and pulled at her braids as she glanced up.

Perfection Takes More Than Two Hands

Sat, 18 Oct 2008 16:20:35 GMT

[timed to lat afternoon]

There was a distinct air of frustration about Dani Reese. Her hair had been washed and dried and cared for, the long, long strands weren't actually too frizzy, but the waves just sort of hung there plainly. She had exactly eight brilliant, small, blue orchid blossoms (one more sat in a glass keeping it fresh for later) in her lap and she was attempting to braid bits of her hair into long, tight sections (just four of them) and weave the flowers in as well, but it wasn't working.

Not at all/.

She was doing it totally wrong and it just made her look stupid.

Reese closed her eyes and scowled. She was wearing blue at the moment -- not her dress, that would be the last thing she put on. No, the second to last. The last thing she'd put on were her insane shoes. Right now, it was just a soft powder blue button down shirt against a pair of crisp black chinos and her feet were predictably bare. With the way the air hung, she knew she was going to get cold, but it didn't really matter. Nothing mattered except getting the flowers into her hair and not looking like a moron. She drew a breath to cuss, stopped and simply gathered up her things and marched to Delirium's hut.

No shoes.

Lots of flailing frustration...and pouting.

"Del?" she called out once she was near enough. "I have uncooperative flowers."

shed the light

Sat, 20 Sep 2008 16:49:45 GMT

The morning had come entirely too early, which meant Dani Reese was up well before dawn and went for her morning run, which as usual had her at the Compound for a shower and coffee or tea. Today, it was tea, the spicy blend she kept reinventing for Garak off and on. Her hair was still damp from her shower and she had slipped into a soft long sleeved grey shirt paired with deep green jeans but hadn’t bothered with shoes again. She rarely did these days. Reese padded down the corridor and glanced into the clinic (technically the lab part) where she caught sight of Doctor Bashir who looked like he’d been there for awhile judging from all the books. Then again, the books could have been there for awhile.

Reese kept walking toward the kitchen where she made two cups of tea and found her way back to the lab. The soft clink of the cup (which was almost baby blue and had odd ridges on it) made her wince as she set it down right on top of whatever he was working on.

"I'm kidnapping you for a walk and tea, Doctor Bashir," she said quietly, her smile slightly crooked. Her stupid cheek was still puffy and dark from when she'd fallen over a few days ago, and it still hurt, but she wasn't even going to address that. "Right now."

be. still.

Mon, 15 Sep 2008 14:36:28 GMT

Reese was figuring out how to be still even when all she wanted to do was keep moving. The need to burst into action, to do something, was a prickle under her skin, an itch she couldn't scratch, a burning in her chest, but she sat with her eyes closed and her hands on her knees. Her fingers curled loosely and she looked like she was completely asleep. She let her mind drift, slowed her breaths, and felt the tightness dissipate. Her hips ached, her back throbbed, but she let the pain go, let it drift away.

Discipline.

Everything could be controlled by the mind. Everything. All the wants and desires, all the needs, all those things that fucked with her. She could turn them off with a thought. Breath came in. Breath went out. Her heart slowed, her breaths came few and far between, and the world around her sharpened. The wind still carried the scent of salt, the recently turned earth smelled rich and fresh, the sound of the wind was loud, rustling in the trees. There were no thoughts, no Reese, nothing but the world around her, and the feel of the sun as it pierced the canopy overhead. She was nothing. She did not exist or rather, she did, but it was something quiet, something small.

And she tipped her face into the sun.

It was difficult to block out the sense of loss that still throbbed hollowly though her body like some sort of phantom limb that itched and tingled and burned. It was tolerable, barely, but it was still there. The Island never let her forget it. Silks. Bits of stone placed where she could find them. Shapes in the rock that suggested something long, sinuous, lizardlike. She pulled them from the confines, letting them dictate their path under her hands. Practice was constant and damn near unconscious. She was tired, but she locked that away, too, and sat still as stone.

I want. I need. I miss. You. I.

Stop.

She switched it off. All of it. Her hair spilled down over her shoulders, streaks honey gold from so much time in the sun glistening, and the wind washed over her. She couldn't have what she wanted. She couldn't stretch beyond what was given. She didn't even know what she really wanted. And she would never know. It was the truth of her life neatly wrapped up in one problem, she supposed. More. Faster. Need. And now she had no use for that, so she resolved to set it aside, to take only what she was given, to never ask for more.

Reese drew a breath in slowly and let it out just as slowly.

She became the rocks, she sank into the orchids, into the trees (no The Tree, that one). When she opened her eyes, she was calm.

Reese had brought tea and two cups she'd liberated from some some odd green mineral deposit (she was certain it was some sort of moss agate). The light hit the small cups (perfectly palm sized) and made them sparkle as she tipped the stone thermos and poured herself a cup. She had never really given up bringing the second cup. Somehow it always found its way into her bag.

one cuppa troubles, one cat o' doom, no pennies

Fri, 05 Sep 2008 02:10:09 GMT

Austin had pulled a late shift that week and Reese fell asleep in an empty bed. Sarahcat was there when she woke, sweating and trembling and trying to steady herself. The sobs were dry and she didn't remember what was so frightening, but she was cold. She was always cold. Reese threw on a nightgown (it was light, floaty) and started the fire to make tea. Sarahcat followed patiently at her heels, nudging her forward with the sharp scrape of her tongue on her elbow when she paused.

She hated waking alone, now. She hated it more than anything, but she kept her mouth shut.

Saracat's head thunked into her arm and then she had a lap full of cat. A smart cat. A cat who knew better than use her claws on her. A cat who reminded her she wasn't alone at all. Somehow the tea got itself done and into a cup and the damn cat was fine with resettling right back into Reese's lap. She was staunchly opposed to moving and Reese finally gave up and sat sipping at her tea with a jaguar cub sitting alertly in her lap like she'd grown there. Sarahcat carefully shoved her head against Reese's chest and let out a plaintive sound.

"If I knew what was wrong, I'd fix it," she murmured. "I'm not stupid, you know." The cub rumbled and purred and licked at her throat as if that was all that needed to be done to fix it. All Reese could do was let out a half laugh and hug the damn thing and, maybe, resolve to go back to bed. Or just wait until Austin came back from wherever.

"Maybe. Maybe I am stupid," she said in a very tiny voice that the silence quickly ate. Sarahcat just licked her arm until it hurt and then used her weight to tip Reese back until they were sprawled inelegantly against the woven mat floor. And then the damn thing sat on her chest until Austin walked through the door.

one quiet moment

Wed, 03 Sep 2008 01:44:47 GMT

He'd fallen asleep about two minutes after he collapsed onto the bed with a mutter about IPD and something else she wasn't supposed to catch. Reese carefully stripped him down so he'd be comfortable and hauled him the rest of the way onto the bed with as much care as she could. There were times when his face was still and smooth and his lips weren't pulled into a slight frown, there were times when she wasn't stressing him out. Her fingers skimmed across his cheeks carefully and she checked his shoulder, careful not to wake him.

Sarahcat, big as she was, found her way to her usual spot, her thick tail flicking as she purred and stared at Reese curiously before licking her knee with a rough tongue. Reese smiled crookedly and gave the cub a scratch behind the ears (which the damn thing loved) before returning her attention to Austin. The candle sputtered, flicking shadows restlessly for a moment and she neatly cradled him against her. He had nightmares as often as she did and if she was awake, she did her best to soothe them before they got anywhere horrible. It was an easy lean to press her lips against his hairline and smooth the suddenly furrowed brow.

It was quiet and Sarah had padded away to rest against the cooler stone somewhere away from them.

Reese kept running her fingers over his face and down his neck, countering the lurking fire she knew he dreamed about with the softness of her hands. Was that enough? The crook of her elbow supported his neck and she found her eyes wandering across his sleep softened features, relaxed, calm, without a care for the moment. She wished, just once, that the peace she wanted would stay and wondered when it would break open yet again. They were both trouble; he got into it as much as she did. Reese didn't blame him, but she'd be there time and again with needle and thread and poultices and a smile.

He turned his cheek against her chest and she closed her eyes.

nothing but the wind

Sun, 24 Aug 2008 08:09:27 GMT

Dani Reese dreamt she'd woken up alone. She'd dreamt she'd woken up alone and was full bellied pregnant, swollen up like the full moon. And there was no one except Sarahcat, who sat and panted in the heat of the late morning, her eyes shining bright with intelligence. She could feel it in the wind, that dreadful low moaning wind and the clouds blacked over she sky (she could see it from the hole in her roof as she stood, barefoot (and pregnant, she laughed) and knew this whole island had left her perfectly alone.

There was a voice that came from the west, just the sweetest thing she'd ever heard.

DON'T YOU WORRY ABOUT A DAMN THING. WHAT'S COMING IS COMING AND YOU JUST GOTTA DO YOUR THING.

Right there on the spot she opened right up in a fit of pain and a whatthefuck! scream. The water and the blood and then quiet. Sarahcat was just staring, impressed. She'd been watching too much Discovery Health channel. But this was a dream. It was a dream because whatever just came out of her was a brand shining new version of herself. And it was smiling.

"Freud would love this shit," she said, bewildered.

"You can die now," New Dani said. "I'm done with you."

And butt naked and new, Dani Reese shot her old self right between the eyes. Sarahcat just sat there, blood all over her fur and grinned. Old Dani went with a smile of disbelief on her face that changed to a small oh, God bless you, too sort of expression. Or maybe it was I thought Vimes had that gun or maybe even what the fuck did you do that for? In any case, as disturbing as that dream was, New Dani Reese was a sign of big motherfucking change.

She woke with a slight start and reached out. Her fingers fell on Austin's chest before the rest of her followed, careful not to wake him. Her cheek settled against his chest and in his sleep he curled his good arm around her. Instinctive. Quiet. Solid. She lay there and felt Saracat shift, her purr a rumble as her paw twitched in her sleep. Dani stayed awake for awhile and listened to the steady sound of Austin sleeping. There was dead silence aside from the cub's purring and the sound of them breathing in the night. Living. That's what they were doing. They were living.

At that moment, that one right there, Dani Reese started to maybe love life.

this love is silent

Thu, 21 Aug 2008 18:58:18 GMT

She had a sharp reply lined up, but it was gone as she arched into him. Reese forgot whatever it was in favor of kissing him deeper than she had any right to in the first place. She drew him in, her tongue caressing his, hips pressed down against him, her hands in his hair. Every last inch of him felt good against her.

"I break me," she whispered into his lips. "I always have."

It was easier still to wrap her legs around his waist while the water shifted by. God it felt good. The pressure of the water and the tautness of her body and the way her blood sang in bursts. She kissed him again until she was sure that there was nothing besides the water and their bodies vibrating at the same damn beat. She could feel. She could feel him.

And she was hanging on.

nobody's perfect when perfection's a myth

Sat, 16 Aug 2008 21:09:02 GMT

Reese woke to having her arm licked by the damn jaguar and made a soft sound of protest. It didn't bother Sarah and Reese didn't really care all that much. The cat had pulled the towel free some time ago and it lay crumpled in the corner. The scent of fresh ferns still rose from the bedding, but she'd need to get more soon. It was cool back in the sheltering darkness of the bedroom and it helped her suddenly pounding head. Sarah let out a yowl and a series of almost burbling sounds as she rubbed her head against Reese's cheek.

She couldn't even raise her hand to give the beast a pat, but just lay there and took the furry abuse, too mentally and physically exhausted to do much more than blink back tears. That got her an armful of cat and the rumble of a purr. Why the damn thing liked her so much was beyond her capability to figure out, but there Sarah was, being fiercely protective as the door to the outside opened. Sarah let out a yowling sort of cry and stood at attention, ready to pounce.

And that made Dani Reese start to cry.

the bogglement of new skins

Thu, 14 Aug 2008 15:09:30 GMT

Her feet hit the ground quick, quick, faster as she reached the homestretch, flying toward the bridge before she walked it off. She debated plunging right into the river but didn't when she caught sight of some blond kid in. She stopped to catch her breath and just scowled for a moment as she wiped at her forehead.

"Am I supposed to know you?" she asked, eyebrow arched as she took them two at a time and stopped before the kid, peering at him. Vaguely familiar. Maybe. Something about the eyes. She shook her head, not really looking forward to dealing with company.

waiting is punishment [for not being there] | (08.06.2008)

Wed, 13 Aug 2008 16:07:31 GMT

The chair was uncomfortable.

She was uncomfortable.

Stop shaking. Stop it. Just stop it.

Her eyes were fixed on him, watching, waiting. He was so fucking pale, like she could almost see the blood straight through his skin. The bandage was showing red, bright red and she felt sick to her stomach. She should have been there. She should have stopped it. What good was she if she couldn't stop it? She couldn't shut her eyes, couldn't shake the anger, had to hold herself in place so she wouldn't storm over to Sarah Connor's bedside and strangle the woman with all the rage in her body. She hated waiting, hated patience, hated it all.

Her jaw tightened and the muscle twitched, threatening action. She was suddenly bent in half, her forehead brushing his arm as she sucked herself in, controlling it savagely. Swallowing it down, lips tight, firm, unyielding. Reese sat up determinedly, made herself look at him until she had to do something.

That something turned out to be getting into bed with him, her cheek brushing against his chest, holding herself together. She didn't sleep. Too angry to sleep with her heart racing in fits as she squeezed her eyes closed. Couldn't sleep. Just curled against him, kept him warm. Tried not to snap at the doctors. Tried not to bite anyone.

She tried and she waited.

AU Drabbles

Sat, 09 Aug 2008 19:29:25 GMT

1. It had been drizzling for hours in the kind of rainstorm that made the asphalt smell stick in her nose and hang there for several minutes. The woman had been in the shower, half in, half out, a perfect 'o' of surprise on her face. There was a small wound on her neck, but Detective Dani Reese knew that was the cause of death.

Clean severing of the spinal cord straight though to the brain stem.

"Detective?"

"Hmm?"

"Brit's here."

She looked up, paused for a second, and her expression matched the dead woman's in a small round 'oh'.

2. She was falling apart. There was coke everywhere, in her eyes, on her skin, numbness crawling down her nose, burning her throat. She couldn't get the water on, her fingers kept slipping, panic kept rolling through her body in waves.

Shit, shit, shit.

It was everywhere and she couldn't get it off and she kept falling and Crews was with Aurthr, but she could hear him calling. And then there was a bright burst of pain as she fell again. She was staring up at the showerhead, breathless, the crackhouse stink in her blood.

look at the stars beneath my feet

Tue, 05 Aug 2008 02:12:12 GMT

Far away from the wild commotion down at the compound, Dani Reese sat with her legs dangling off the low bridge over her stretch of the river. Night had fallen some time ago, leaving the stars burning themselves out high above while she frowned at the paper lantern she'd cobbled together out of sheer boredom. She was waiting for something to break. It had been looming all day, that feeling of dread, of something wrong. It was the same damn thing that happened on a stakeout, an interview gone sour, a something that sat on her chest and growled, wet and heavy, pressing down into her, making her itchy, making her want her gun, making her worry.

She'd cleaned the tweezers three times, sterilized them twice, folded the long strips of cloth that had become bandages, sharpened her knife, and pretended every little noise didn't make her want to grab her knife up and wave it about at thin air. It felt like she was waiting for the world to end, somehow. Reese twisted her hair up, then twisted the long red ribbon around it once, twice, and tied it savagely as she stared at the path leading to the compound. She drew a breath in and could count the steps from here to there; she breathed out and watched the stars shimmer in the water as she swung her feet.

She was going to just worry until the worry went away and ignore her ruined roof.

what it seems, it is

Sat, 26 Jul 2008 15:58:29 GMT

She knew she was in her own body the moment she woke and the relief was so sharp it could have drawn blood. Reese bolted upright two seconds after that, already reaching for clothes. Her fingers found soft worn jeans and a red tee and she shoved them on carelessly, moving out of her cave before she even realized she was half way down the path along the waterfall. She looked nearly desperate, but certain, with her hair wild and damp as she half stumbled down the stones. She had to find Austin.

It wasn't one of those passing damned things. She had to know he was... Well. She had to know. Screw logic and emotion and the fact that she was near tears as it was. Screw all of it. Her voice rang out before she even saw him (it was his shape with all the familiarity, the lines and the bearing and it really was properly him). God, there was panic and fear and sharpness and relief and something raw that tore at the edges of her voice. It was not a scream (maybe it was).

She nearly threw herself at him, hands on his face, legs around his waist, lips everywhere, fingers in his hair, checking, searching, shaking with relief before she pulled back to stare at him. Her face was wet and her eyes stung and she said his name in a voice that barely held together. Are you here? You're here. You're here. Tell me you're here and that you're okay. And she couldn't stop shaking.

You Can't Put Bach To Bed In A Shower, You Know

Sun, 13 Jul 2008 03:50:04 GMT

Dani Reese was in need of a damn long shower. It wasn't that she was utterly filthy, in fact, she was (for the most part) clean, but there was a certain focus that came in standing under a hot shower and letting whatever tension was in you just melt away. Well, assuming it would melt. There was plenty of unwanted tension recently and half of it refused to wash away. Reese cranked the heat up and slipped out of the ratty jeans and worn rust colored tee the box had given her (both had been used mainly for gardening and working with stone), bare feet meant she didn't have to care about socks or shoes or sandals or jack-shit else.

Her pile of clothing was neat, as usual, and sat with two towels and a thick terry cloth bathrobe on one of the benches. God bless the compound for showers. From somwhere down the hall the blaring strains of Bach's St. Matthew Passion Schreier filtered into the room and she shook her head. Very German with gorgeous tenor and soprano parts, not to mention the full chorale parts (like the one that was currently drowning out the sound of the water as she let it wash over her). The organ was more of a punctuation as the soprano and tenor battled with each other.

German was one of those languages that was best sung because spoken, it sounded...well. It sounded harsh. She tipped her head back and ran her hands through her hair until it was soaked and then simply stood there, letting the heat soak into her body as if she couldn't get enough of it. Some days were like this, all balls of knots and madness...and a damned German opera thundering through the water so she couldn't think. But God, the heat felt good.

the wrong side of herbs

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 21:30:11 GMT

Grime encrusted Reese was scratched up from falling in brambles to get her hands on an herb she'd thought was something good turned out to be something horrible. It was so horrible that despite the fact that she'd washed several times, the scent of it was stuck in her hair. A consultation of her herb book as well as a hurried examination of the fruit she'd knocked from the tree revealed the offending fruit was something called Noni and made her decidedly ill from smell alone. The huge glossy leaves were something of an interest, though any medicinal purposes were left to her imagination. By the time she'd scrubbed down for the fifth time at the compound, she swore she was going to start losing her hair.

Stay away from the Noni or at least don't fall against it and knock the horrible fruit about.

It was a bad exploring day. Very bad. Almost as bad as the goat stew she'd made. Okay, nothing was as bad as the goat stew she'd made or the two skin pots she ruined truing to make one like Ayla's, or the fact that she'd cracked a rock around her hearth fire and screamed like a little girl, or maybe even the time she tried to chip herself a jar out of rock and ended up with something crap-shaped, squat, with a hole in it that looked like a five year old made it. She forced herself to work on a new jar, cup, something, every day since she'd managed to make one big enough to shut the smell of pepper away from making her sneeze. She'd been drying all sorts of things in her cave, which made it smell horrible. especially when she added the sharp scent of mint into the mix.

She was little more than a fledgling herbalist and it was a wonder Ayla hadn't give up on her yet. Dani was too stubborn to give up, though, and hung in there, testing her memory without the book and quizzing herself mercilessly. There was no way she could be a cop, but the fuck if she was gonna fail at herbs. Reese toweled her hair as dry as she could and headed back to her cave.

Maybe she'd finish the stone pot for the cinnamon bark tonight. If she didn't break it.

hello, goodbye (it don't matter)

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 15:47:57 GMT

Waking alone shouldn't have been the disappointment it was, even if she knew before she woke that he was gone. Her eyes opened and she was staring at a white mug (for the longest time, just staring) like it had some sort of significance. Reese rolled onto her back as the candle sputtered and breathed in sharply before moving to pull on running clothes. It was a habit, now. He'd leave, she'd run and run and run. If she didn't, she'd think and if she thought she might not want to breathe for awhile. Not breathing could kill you. She'd tell herself it was fine, that she didn't need or want anything from him besides company -- and she didn't, not really. Lacing up her shoes was easier this morning and blowing out the fat candle was, too.

Even back when this shit was still just shit, Reese hated waking up alone.

She pushed herself out of the cave system, out among the rocks. The sky was lit in false dawn as she picked her way down with the waterfall's mist dampening her skin. It tingled and she nearly lost her footing for a moment, then pushed off and headed onto the path that lead toward the ocean. She'd do a beach run just to keep herself occupied. Garak was still in her system, spicy-sweet and unexpected. They spent all their time avoiding each other just to come together, explode, tear away, and go back to pretending it meant nothing. She was never as patient with anyone else, tried to keep away from people in general. Hid. The only people she managed to have regular contact with were Ayla, Alcuin (she needed to talk to him again about Elua, about anything), Mohinder (not as often as she might have liked), and depending on her mood, Austin.

She pushed herself faster, sprinting, letting the trees blur. This wasn't jogging, this was speeding. This was racing the dawn. She'd never get him out of her system, she thought with alarm. His hands (on her back, at the curve of her breast, against her hips), his lips (could be unyielding just before he did something unexpected), the mostly hard lines of his body (felt good against her, too good). Run, run, run. Faster! She could hear the surf lapping the shore and as she hit the beach, she was shoving her shoes off, dumping them neatly against a rock, stripping off one tank top, folding it (she always folded everything now, damn him), piling her shorts carefully against everything else. It was took ten seconds before she hit the water. She couldn't outrun him, she couldn't out-swim him.

The taste of him was in her mouth as she let the waves carry her away from the shore to where the water cooled. Dani Reese swam and watched the daylight shatter the night into memory. The feel of him was still there even as she dove deep and she broke the surface, got hit in the face with a wave, choked, and let out a frustrated sound. It's just sex. Just. It's just sex. If she repeated it over and over, maybe it would be.

It was never just sex. Fuck you, Island. Fuck you. Anonymous sex. Yeah, like bars and married men who couldn't keep their pants zipped (and she'd put out just because she wanted a fuck, to get her head untied from the knots work put there), no names, no numbers. No attachment. Just sex. And here she was, working Garak out of her system.

It'd be like this every damned time. And she'd miss him in the spaces between while telling herself it was a phase. Yeah. A fling. Nothing serious. Never serious. Dani Reese dove into the dark depths and tried not to laugh.