GarniGal's Journal:

I posted this to my AO3 account, but I know some of you will only see it here. I admit, it was a quickie (who knew I could write 12 pages in one day, especially one in which I also worked 8 hours), so if there's any errors or oddities, don't hesitate to point them out and I'll clean it up.

Request was for Buffy and Veronica Mars crossover, Oz/Mac, Logan/Veronica. "Veronica figures out Oz's secret and Mac works her own magic against a werewolf hunter.

( Terrifying in a Whole New Way )

Shows: Angel
Story Title: Graumann's Chinese Theatre
Character/Relationships: Cordelia Chase
Rating: PG
Warnings: None

The breeze down Hollywood Boulevard was crisp and sharp. She didn't remember it ever being cold in Sunnydale, no matter what she wore and no matter what time of year it was. Didn't matter; there wasn't anything she could do about it now. She just smiled wider and willed the goosebumps away through sheer mental focus.

She looked awesome, at least she was confident of that. She'd put her hair up in a ponytail in a defense against the wind; that was a risk, a little too casual. But it showed off her neck and at least she wasn't pushing tangled curls out of her face every ten seconds like the blond beside her. She'd almost worn a white shirt, thinking it would stand out in the darkness. But her tan wasn't as perfect as it should be, and she'd looked washed out when she tried it on. She'd made the right choice with a short sleeved burgundy knit dress, shot with hints of metallic thread. The lights for the red carpet made everything look like daylight, and caught the metallics without making her look like a disco ball, like the red-head three down. And there'd been no question about the boots; no matter how badly her feet hurt, the knee highs with four inch heels were the only choice.

The cars started to arrive. Just town cars at first; people with bit parts and crew. Most of the girls around her were slouching, bitching about the cold, but Cordelia kept the smile on her face, kept her back straight and made sure she caught the eye of everyone who looked her way. It was good practice, and you never knew who'd go from nothing to something.

Finally, finally the limos pulled up. Girls adjusted bras, swiped fingers over teeth and tried to tame their tangled hair, but Cordelia was ready. She smiled, trying on a different smile for each person so they could see how versatile she was. Shy for the producers, sweet for the director, her old Queen C bitch smile for the female lead, and welcoming for the male lead.

The doors closed, the lights abruptly flicked off. It was dark and cold on Hollywood Boulevard, and there was no limo waiting to take her home, no photographer asking for one more shot. She turned away and walked down the street to the nearest bus stop, head still high, back still straight.

Next time, she'd be the one walking the red carpet.

I had a fantastic time writing for jossverse_las and I'm looking forward to reading the entries from the rest of the challenges. I'd definitely do it again, even if I did get voted out after 4 stories!

Story Title: Life; Bloody, Real and Warm
Character/Relationships: Simon Tam
Rating: PG
Warnings: Pre-series

This was the moment he’d been working for. This was what he’d been imagining ever since he saw that proud smile when he told his father he wanted to go into medicine. Years of study, years of dedication, years of avoiding distractions, years of watching his old friends go out to parties and come home with girls, all of it was for this moment.

He was pleased to see that his hands didn’t shake. Why should they? He knew exactly what he had to do, knew exactly what to expect. He’d done this on the simulator hundreds of times. His hands didn’t shake, and yet his heart pounded with excitement.

It was the heat. He could feel the warmth of the body right through his protective gloves. Could see the chest rising and falling despite the surgical drapes that hid most of the patient from view. This was a real live human being, not some simulator dragged out to practice on. Not some corpse lying cold and nude to examine and learn from.

This was life; bloody, real, and warm. This was the moment that would tell him whether he’d made the right choice all those years ago, that would confirm his father’s pride.

And still his hands didn’t shake.

Steady and sure, he cut through skin and tissue, cut out the diseased flesh. His eyes took in everything he saw, his mind analyzed, looking for any hidden problems, anything that could make this surgery less than perfect. Delicate and economical, he sutured the wounds, clean and straight. He gently taped a bandage over the sutures, unwilling to leave even that to the surgical nurse. He needed this moment to be his, to see this through to the end.

Even after the surgery was over, he trailed after the recovery nurses and waited until he saw the patient begin to rouse. Only then could he bring himself to change out of his scrubs.

Off in the corner of the change room reserved for medical students, he was alone and mostly hidden from the rest of the room. His classmates had told him they’d overheard interesting gossip in the change room, but he’d never approved of eavesdropping. He couldn’t help but listen in when he heard his own name.

“Did you observe Tam’s first surgery today? Lovely bit of work.” Simon bit his lip to suppress a smile.

“Yes indeed, he seems to have an instinct for the job. Highly focused and with a near genius ability to find and fix the problem. He appears a bit… serious though.”

“Yes, he’s a bit idealistic. Lots of spouting that every life is worth fighting for. Ah, he’ll learn that some people simply aren’t worth saving.”

“Or we’ll have more time for golf as he tries to save the world.”

The doors closed on their laughter.

Simon found his hands were clenched into fists. He forced himself to open them, to relax his shoulders. How did someone hold a life in their hands, and decide it wasn’t worth saving? How did someone choose golf over the infinite potential of a human being?

He dropped his wallet, and looked down in surprise.

Now, his hands had begun to shake.

A single kick for Buffy to break down a door.
A single demon for Xander to break an engagement.
A single moment for Dawn to break the law.
A single ticket for Giles to break a heart.
A single bullet for Willow to break with sanity.

In the shadows, Spike tries to break through Buffy’s defences.
Xander runs away and Anya breaks into sobs.
The booty is returned, but Dawn’s managed to break their trust.
Buffy begs him not to leave, but Giles doesn’t break.
Tara falls and Willow breaks, and there’s no one left to pick up the pieces.

They giggled in graveyards, heads together. Secrets and stories passed between them without words, through the semi-permeable membrane of friendship. These are the games they play.

They meandered by mausoleums, stealing glances through downcast lashes. Young love, manic in shy passion, conveyed by a touch, a look. These are the games they play.

They cavort by crematoriums, the only place where the dead don’t walk. Fire burns, but not as hot as the fear and despair that drives them. Teeth and nails leave scratches and bites, and then maybe she’ll be able to sleep. These are the games they play.

At the urging of spiralleds, I posted most of my fandom stories from 2010 and 2009 to AO3 and signed up for Remix...Redux Magic 8 ball.

Because I am insane, and also easily convinced.

I feel sorry for whoever gets me though. I thought I had a lot more long stories. I write too many drabbles.

Title: Missing Persons Report
Fandom: Firefly
Prompt: Sunrise
Warnings:
Rating: G (so far)
Word Count: 731
Summary: The crew is making new friends and taking new jobs.

*****

Mal couldn’t help his look of distaste at Norton’s admittance. There was no one to give him grief for it though; the rest of the crew had the same reactions. Norton himself was in such misery at reliving that terrible choice that he didn’t even notice. He simply stared at the floor, tears sporadically dripping off the end of his nose.

In the silence, thick with grief and disgust, was River who took up the narrative. “It seemed like a simple thing, at the first. Kind doctor in the white coat, tests that seem so innocent, just like the doctors in the hospital do. They tell you what you want to hear, your baby is healthy and strong and smart. Very, very smart. And they say your baby is so smart and so healthy that they must continue their tests, but there is nothing to worry about. They’ll finish soon and your life will be normal. But your life, your child’s life can never be the same.”

“And then they tell you about the school.” Simon’s voice came from the corner where he sat with Kaylee on the couch. He sounded lost and heartbroken. Like his entire world was shaken to its foundation.

River slipped from the centre of the room to stand in front of her brother. “You remember?”

“I remember the men in white coats who came to house when you were small. Nanny always took me to play in the park when they arrived. I asked Mother once if you were ill, if that was why the doctors came. She said no, but she seemed so distracted and concerned that I didn’t believe her.”

“That was when you decided to be a doctor,” River whispered, sinking to her knees on the floor. She lay her head on his knee, and Simon absently petted her hair and pulled Kaylee closer to him, clearly seeking comfort from the women who loved him.

Mal cleared his throat and looked back at Norton. As much as he wanted to find out more about what Simon had remembered and what had happened to River, now wasn’t the time. “Mr. Norton?”

“Just as she said. For the first year, they came to the house about once a month. They’d run some tests, never taking long. When Isaac turned one, they said they’d only have to come every six months. I thought that they’d decided I’d paid my debt. When he turned five, they began to only come once a year. I was sure they’d forgiven me. I was so convinced that everything was fine that I disregarded Isaac’s tears after his testing. I ignored my son’s terror of men in white coats. I willfully overlooked by son’s dread of his upcoming birthday. By the time he was nine, I’d lost my son’s trust. I’d failed to protect him and he knew it, even if I hadn’t yet realized what I’d done to him.”

“They came very early on the morning of his tenth birthday, so early it was still dark. Isaac was still eating breakfast. He’d been sulky that morning, arguing about everything. I’d finally jollied him along into a better mood and gotten him to eat something. As soon as the knock came, he stopped eating and stared at the floor. I didn’t have time to wonder, to think about what might have set him off. The frighteningly elegant man was at the door. I hadn’t seen the man since the day I brought Isaac home.”

“He told me that Isaac was a gifted young boy, and that he’d been selected for a special boarding school to help him develop those gifts. I tried to argue, tried to say he was too young to go away. The man was implacable. Isaac must go, and he must go now. I asked about holidays, and summer vacation and when he could come home, but the man simply took Isaac’s hand and led him out the door. Isaac had fought me all morning, but he obeyed this man without question. I watched them walk down the path to the waiting limo, and my son never looked back. The limo drove off. I stayed on the front step and watched the sunrise, knowing in my heart that I’d lost my son forever.”

She’d never been particularly patient, but she had no choice this time. Besides, there was nothing she needed to rush off to, and it was peaceful on the riverbank.

There were other people nearby, but she wandered away from the crowd. She settled in to wait on a patch of soft moss, watching the water and the waving grass until the silky sound of oars drew her to her feet. She rejoined the crowd waiting on the docks.

The boatman welcomed each person until it was her turn. “Come with me across the river, and take your rest.”

Kendra smiled.

Thank you so much to whoever nominated me over at rwsawards. It's my first nomination ever, and I just did a little dance around my living room.

Edit: I forgot to specify - I was nominated in the Where's My Cookies (100 word drabbles) category for this drabble I posted in open_on_sunday:

Riley

Tag was his favourite game when he was a kid. Most of the rest of the kids hated being It, but he didn’t mind. He was the youngest, but he was the fastest and the sneakiest, so he was never It for long. He could see Daddy grinning proudly on the porch when he tagged one of the bigger kids or let one of the littlest ones slip past.

He’s still fast and sneaky. He can tiptoe up behind an HST and have them knocked out and in the net before they even know he’s there.

And tag… it’s It.