Hard On Yourself

(continued from this post)

“Why would you want to kill me?” Bob asked quietly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer, but the words just spilled from his lips.

Carolyn shook her head. “No. No - I never wanted to kill you. Ever.” She hiccuped softly. “But - Command had orders. For if - if they ever took you, I was supposed to make sure they couldn’t...use you.”

Bob closed his eyes, swallowed hard. “I see. Would it have been quick and painless?”

“For you,” Carolyn said. “For me it would have lasted forever.” She buried her face against his neck, and she was trembling. “I’m so, so sorry, Robbie. I fell in love with you and I’m not sure I could’ve done what I was supposed to, and then, when they took you, they would have tortured you, and you would have been in pain. For hours. Because I loved you and couldn’t do it and --”

Bob hushed her gently, wrapped his arms around her and held her. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said. Relief curled through his limbs, echoed by the warmth of her body against his. He swallowed hard. All these years he’d done his best to hate her, forget her, and she’d tortured herself with the knowledge that loving him was failing him. Who were these people in command, that they’d do this to a girl? Because she’d been just a girl when she’d started on the road with them.

He could still hear her words, some of the last words she’d said to him all those years ago.

“I picked up a gun when I was six years old, first killed a man when I was ten. I learned seven languages and how to withstand torture, just so I could keep you alive.”

“Carolyn,” he said, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Robbie.” Carolyn pulled back. “Now c’mon - we have to get out of here.”

She reached into her jacket and drew out a handgun.

Bob blinked, then stood up, offered her a hand. “Let’s go.”

(340 words)

What's To Love?

“That’s pretty harsh,” Melanie said. She and Carolyn stood on the front porch and peered through the open door to where Clay was roundly dressing down his younger brother for running out on him while they were both still supposed to be teaching school.

Bob had his head bowed and kept nodding apologetically. After a while, Clay ran out of steam, and then he stepped forward, pulled Bob into a hug.

“So,” Melanie said, “all those times I was being a crazy fangirl, you thought I was creepy obsessed, huh?”

“No.” Carolyn smiled at her friend. “Not at all. You love them just as much as I do.”

“Yeah, but you grew up with them. You love them because you know them. I love them because --”

“Because they’re talented and attractive and nice guys,” Carolyn said. “Same as me.”

Melanie floundered for a moment. “Yeah, but -- you got to kiss one of them.”

“Two, actually,” Carolyn said absently.

Melanie’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Clay fell out of love with me a long time ago,” Carolyn said.

“What makes you say that?” Melanie asked. She peered at Carolyn and saw that Carolyn’s gaze was distant; she was lost in memory.

“He saw who and what I really am, and he couldn’t deal.”

“And Bob could?”

“I think, by then, Robbie just didn’t care.”

Melanie nudged Carolyn’s shoulder with hers. “It couldn’t have been that bad. After all, you’re just a crazy prodigy law student. What’s not to love about brains and good looks?”

Carolyn said, almost too softly for Melanie to hear, “What’s to love about lies and bloodstained hands?”

Bob crossed the den and opened the screen door. He was still blushing faintly, but he was smiling.

“Clay’s done being all big brother on me. Sorry to kick you out of your own place, Carolyn.”

The smile she offered him could have outstripped a thousand suns. “I’m just glad you two made up.” Then she turned to her friend. “C’mon, Melanie. Want to meet half of Four Times Summer?”

(339 words)

Always About Him

A fist to the ribs. Carolyn could feel the ribs breaking beneath her knuckles. She followed her victim as he staggered back, spun into a roundhouse kick that probably broke his jaw. He hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, and then Carolyn had to pause, assess.

No breathing, no voices, no footsteps within hearing distance. She spun, scanned her surroundings, listening to her victim’s weak gasps all the while. No witnesses, then.

Carolyn knelt, flipped open her switchblade. Sometimes it was just easier to make it look like a mugging. Too professional a hit and local cops started asking questions, started running into bureaucratic walls. If she made this look like a proper wet job, it would be one too many in a string of hits - the Orphaneers were getting damned persistent - and some idiot with Mulder-doggedness would come sticking his nose where it wasn’t wanted.

The Orphaneer was young, Carolyn’s age, but far less experienced. She was beyond caring at this point.

“You tried to kill Robbie, you bastard,” she whispered, and plunged the knife into him once, twice, three times. Covered his mouth with her other hand while he gasped and gurgled as blood pooled into his lungs. When she stood up, she kicked the corpse for good measure.

She was halfway back to the stage door when she realized her vision was blurry from tears and her hands were still covered in blood. Carolyn stumbled into the nearest bathroom to wash her face and hands. It took a good drubbing in ice-cold water before she looked presentable again.

John’s words ricocheted through her brain.


“This is about him, Carolyn, not you.”

The blood all over her hands was always about him.

She wanted to cry some more.

And then the shrill screams of teenage fangirls broke the sound barrier.

The show had just begun.

(311)

Nothing to Lose

Joe took the blow to the side without uttering a single sound, not even a whimper as the air rushed from his lungs, barely defended himself when he felt a rib crack from the next blow.

The jeers and yells from the gathered men were just a noise in his head, he knew that if he carried on long enough that he would collapse, and then he could rest. Joe looked at the large and burly man opposite him in the makeshift ring, his eyes filled with blood lust and his gaze fixed on Joe. Joe brought his fists up in a defensive position and the man smiled; Joe knew that he appeared exactly what he really was, a scrawny nineteen year old boy with nothing to lose.

"Joe!" a strong female voice called out. Joe looked up in surprise and was knocked backwards as his opponent took the opportunity to strike. He stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, and the men around cheered as the victor walked out of the ring.

"Joe? Joe, can you hear me?" A voice said from beside him. Joe looked up, dazed, into the familiar beautiful features of Jen.

"Jen," he said, his words slightly slurred, "what are you doing here?"

"I came to find you. I've been worried about you," she said as she cradled his head in her lap and dabbed at the blood on his face. "Why are you doing this Joe?" she whispered.

"It helps," he said simply. "It helps me forget, helps take away the pain and the guilt."

Jen's eyes flashed in anger, "and I suppose I mean nothing to you?"

Joe tried to roll over so that he could face her, "no, Jen, it's not like that."

"Then what is it like? Are you trying to get yourself killed? I don't suppose it occurred to you that I could help you, that I could help take away the pain. Did you stop to consider that?" Jen asked as she stepped out of reach.

"Jen, I'm sorry, I didn't want you to have to worry about me. I..."

Jen cut him off, "But I do worry about you, ever since the first time I saw you in the hospital I have worried about you. but I guess that means nothing to you," she said. Not giving him a chance to respond, Jen hurried to the door and out into the night.

Joe could hear her words echoing in his mind, 'I could help take away the pain...I guess I mean nothing to you...'

Be Careful

“Do you know what your father will do to you if he finds out about this?” Shelley demanded.

Bob ducked his head, stared down at his shoes. Carolyn met Shelley’s gaze, then looked away. Shelley saw that Carolyn was looking at John, who loomed in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, wearing a very grim expression.

Finally, Bob lifted his head. “Dad doesn’t get to have a say on - on who we date. Or even if we date.”

“And when the fans ask --”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Bob said.

John shook his head. “Don’t bother, Shelley. They’re teenagers - they’re not seeing reason.” His gaze bored into Carolyn, but she kept her head held high. “They’re too young to understand the consequences of their actions.”

Shelley flinched, surprised by the icy fury in John’s tone. He was looking at Carolyn steadily, and something passed between them, something Shelley didn’t understand. She had the feeling that John was talking about something more than the fans finding out that one of the brothers had a girlfriend.

“Did it not occur to you that we are capable of doing a cost-benefit analysis and that we found the odds, despite the risks, weigh in our favor?” Carolyn’s voice was cutting.

John shook his head. “You’re being an idiot and you know it. There are things in this world that are bigger than you two, or have you forgotten who are you? If you think you can take them on you’re more of an arrogant fool than I thought.”

Bob realized something else was going on and cast his step-mother a look. Then he stepped in front of Carolyn. “John, it’s not as bad as you think --”

John didn’t even look at him, hurling his words right at his daughter. “You have no idea what you’re risking. What we’re all risking. What I’m risking. What he is risking.”

Bob flinched. “John --”

“This is about him, Carolyn, not you,” John said, “and you’d better remember that.”

Shelley blinked when John spun on his heel and walked away. Then she turned back to Bob and Carolyn. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Dad hasn’t caught us yet,” Bob said, “and he won’t.”

“I know,” Shelley said. “But be careful.”

Bob caught on the second time and turned bright red. Carolyn was still staring after her foster-father, looking as if she’d just been hit.

(399 words)

Perfectly Balanced

The voice that crackled over the intercom was several shades past displeased.

“What is the meaning of this?”

The monitor in the middle of the room hummed to life, and the lighting took a moment to fade up, but as soon as John saw the entwined silhouettes he knew what was going on. Damn Carolyn for - for what? For being human? For being a teenager?

It was grainy video, and badly shot. John’s first thought was that some rabid Four Times Summer fangirl would have given her first three children to get her hands on this footage. His second thought was that what the girl would see would break her heart. She’d see Bob and Carolyn, tucked into an alcove backstage at some random venue in some nameless foreign city, pressed up against a wall and kissing each other hungrily. Bob was still wearing his gloves, and his hair was damp with sweat where it curled at the nape of his neck - he’d just come offstage. Carolyn had one hand fisted in his t-shirt, the other buried in his hair, and her eyelashes fluttered against her cheekbone when Bob lowered his head to her throat.

“Agent Pierce was your responsibility, Agent Simon. Her job is to ensure The Carrier is secure. Not...this.”

John took a deep breath. The Generals knew they were walking a fine line when they’d decided to take on a project like Carolyn. To make her an effective agent, she had to be the perfectly balanced blend of killing machine and empathizer. Apparently she was too much of an empathizer for their tastes.

“Sir, Carolyn is ensuring The Carrier is secure. As his girlfriend, she has better access to him than ever before.” John wasn’t sure he believed his own words. “The Carrier is being protected during periods when he was usually at high-risk, such as while he’s asleep.”

“Agent Pierce’s job is to make sure the Orphaneers never get their hands on him, not to moon over him like a lovesick calf. If they take him, she must finish him. And then she will be terminated. Do your job, Agent Simon, or someone else will do it for you.”

And the intercom went dead.

(371 words)

Wasn't Thinking

"I'm sorry man. I don't know what else to say," Bryan stammered out an apology to his brother. He watched warily from where Mark couldn't reach him, watched the emotions play across his face; shock, disbelief, anger.

Mark stood in the doorway to their room, he could still hear the echo of the door slamming downstairs as Shandra left the house, probably for the last time.

"I guess I just wasn't thinking," Bryan said after an awkward pause.

"That's always been your problem Bryan," Mark said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "You never think. You never stop to consider what may or may not happen, who you might hurt or how your actions might be taken in the wrong way. Did it ever occur to you that what you do affects other people?"

Bryan swallowed his shame, he knew that he shouldn't have, and it's not like it's his fault that Marks girlfriend can't tell them apart, it had just happened.

"Mark, I'm sorry, it just happened. I looked up and smiled at her, and suddenly she was kissing me, and my brain just stopped," Bryan said quietly, "I hope the two of you can work it out. Tell her I'm sorry will you?"

Mark looked at his twin, his almost perfect mirror image in everything, "No, I don't think that I will; and I doubt that this can be fixed," he said. Turning on his heel, Mark left the room, slamming the door behind him.

"I'm sorry," Bryan said again to the empty space.

Kill Shot

“Do it again, Pierce.”

Carolyn took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and fired.

That voice crackled over the intercom. “With your eyes open, brat. You need to look at your target when you fire.”

Another voice broke in. “Easy, easy, she hit the bulls-eye.”

“That’s not the point,” the first voice barked. “Cadet Pierce, eyes on the target at all times, understood?”

Carolyn opened her eyes and stared at the row of targets laid out before her. Each of them was marked with specific red sections - kill shots. She’d become a sufficient marksman; now she had to learn to kill first, ask questions later.

“Again,” the voice commanded.

Carolyn closed her eyes and emptied her clip into the closest target. She could hit a heart from two hundred yards with her eyes closed, but she was tired of this. Before she could open her eyes, someone plucked the gun out of her hand, and hands clamped around her upper arms. She reacted smoothly, instinctually, sliding into the series of motions drilled into her by daily repetition, and began taking down her opponents one by one. But there were too many of them, and they were bigger than her.

When she finally managed to get herself uncuffed and the blindfold untied, she was in a four by six cement cell with only a single light. Any moment, someone would shut it off.

Then she’d have to wait until her body was desperate enough for food to make that kill shot.

(251 words)

Again and Again

The four men in Commander Cole's unit were huffing for air when they came staggering into the open compound yard after a twenty mile run; Joe immediately collapsed to the ground, heaving for breath.

"On your feet soldier," David barked as he stepped out of the command post.

Joe immediately rolled to his knees and struggled to stand again without blacking out, Bryan and Mark were both doubled over with their hands on their thighs, and Steve was leaning against the wall, swallowing convulsively, as he tried to regain his balance.

"Line up!" David commanded, and watched as they shuffled into a staggered line.

"Not good enough men," David said, looking them up and down, "Dress those lines and come to attention.

It took the four subordinate officers a few seconds to straiten themselves out. They were still breathing hard and sweat was pouring off of their faces in the hot Nevada sun.

"That run took you almost three hours gentlemen," David said disparagingly as he paced back and forth in front of them. "It should have taken you no more than two," he said, and looked each of them in the eye until they looked down. "I will not tolerate such poor standards in my command. You will do it again tomorrow, and it had better be within the time limits. As for right now, you will each give me one hundred push-ups, and then you will run the obstacle course. You will finish in under two minutes. Now Move!" David barked.

The four men dropped to the ground and began the rigorous number of push-ups that came on top of the run; none of them looked forward to the obstacle course. None of them had ever finished in under two minutes.

David watched in silence as his men struggled to make the repetitions that he had required, watched them stagger to their feet again and run to the obstacle course, and watched every one of them fail to make the two minute mark.

"Not good men," David said as he shook his head, "not good at all. Tomorrow will be more of the same, and the next day, and the next. Everyday until you can do it right. Now, dismissed to eat and wash," David said.

The four men said nothing as they turned from their leader and headed towards the barracks, complete exhaustion the only emotion in their faces.

"Just a little harsh don't you think?" Commander Hayes asked as he stepped out of the command post where he had been watching David drill his men.

"Were you any easier on me?" David asked without turning, "If I'm harsh now, they will become better soldiers; quick, agile, disciplined, strong, and resilient. They will live longer, and be prouder of themselves."

"Well, they're your men, I won't interfere, but do remember that they are also pretty young," Hayes said as he turned to leave.

"So was I," David said to no one in particular.

Project Assignment #48 - Harsh

Okay, this week is a chance to let your characters harsher side make an appearance. Haow harsh is Carolyn with Bob or Clay? How harsh is John on Carolyn? Does David come down on his men hard?

Have fun this week and let the harshness out for a stroll.

word limit of 500

Overview #47: Confessions

Hah. This was a pretty good one. Some of the confessions weren't as overt as I'd have liked them to be. Once again, it was a week of confessions for everyone. I was quite pleased that this week's lot of entries actually did some good as far as moving the plot along - I got some key scenes in. There were a couple of double confessions, as it were, about things, wherein two things were confessed even if only one thing was the main issue at dispute between the characters. It would've been nice if at least one of the confessions were happy, but thus is the way of things. I was a little leery about letting Dinah in on the secret, but it sort of had to be done. John needed to get things off his chest as well, and I think what I ended up doing with him worked.

Of course, the most important post was the last.

Carolyn finally said it.

Like I'm Supposed To

(continued from this post)

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to know something,” Bob said. “Just one thing.”

Carolyn searched his gaze. “Robbie, I can’t --”

“Please.” He caught her by the shoulders and leaned down, so close their foreheads were almost touching. “I need to know. I’ve needed to know since I watched you walk away. Do you love me?”

Carolyn reached up slowly and curled a hand around the nape of his neck, gazing into his eyes. A small sound caught in her throat, like a sob, and she closed her eyes. Then she looked at him again. “Yes. Yes, I love you.”

He covered her mouth with his.

She clung to him, fingers tight against his skin, and he held her. She loved him. All this time, she’d loved him. He couldn’t believe she was real,in his arms. Five years of missing her, of hating her and wanting her, and it all came down to never wanting to let her go.

He pulled back and buried his face in her neck, breathless. “I love you. Tell me you love me,” he whispered against her skin.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I love you.” Then she tugged on his shirt. “Robbie, we have to go, we have to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

“But you love me, right?” He pulled back and looked into her eyes. He had to make sure.

She was trembling in his arms. “I do love you. More than my own life. Now come on.” She tugged on him again, and he saw that the emotion in her eyes was more fear than love. “We can’t stay here. Please.”

“Why?”

“They’re coming to take you, and I - I can’t kill you.”

Ice crept through Bob’s veins. “Kill me?”

“Like I’m supposed to.”

(298 words)

Yes It Is

“I’ll be fine,” Bob insisted.

“Shut up,” Clay said gently. “You’re sick.”

“We can tour. Really. I just need a couple of days to rest,” Bob said.

Kevin reached for the phone. “So if I call the label rep --”

Bob started to nod his assent; Clay and Scott exchanged desperate looks. Why did Bob always give in?

“I don’t want to renew my contract,” Dan said.

Scott shot him an apprehensive look. “Danny --”

“I’m done. We had our fun, but I want a normal life. I want to go to college.” Dan met his father’s gaze evenly, but his hands shook. The other two triplets looked alarmed.

Kevin’s jaw tightened. “Daniel, be reasonable --”

“I’m sick of living on the road and hearing girls scream in my sleep.” Dan’s hands curled into fists.

Kevin attempted a winning smile. “The girls love you.”

Dan said, "I'm gay."

The other three froze.

Kevin’s face went blank. “What?”

“I’m gay and I have a boyfriend and we’re going to college together,” Dan said.

Rage flashed in Kevin’s eyes. “No son of mine is like that.”

“Well I am!”

Kevin swung at him.

Dan automatically moved to block, but then Bob was in front of him, one hand on his father’s wrist. Kevin looked stunned. All Clay could think was, Nice reflexes.

Bob’s eyes were dark with fury. “You promised you’d never touch them.”

Kevin swallowed hard, tugged free of Bob’s wrist. “Robert, I...”

“I think enough is enough,” Scott said quietly. “I’ve stood by and watched for too long what you’ve done to my little brothers, and it ends now.”

Kevin’s expression hardened, and he lifted his chin defiantly. “Is that your decision?”

The other three boys formed a wall around Scott, staring their father down.


Scott said, “Yes, it is.”

(297 words)

Tickets

"Has anyone else noticed how strange the commander has been acting this week?" Steve asked the other three as they sat in the dining room. None of them knew where David was; he hadn't left any note.

"Yeah," the other three answered. "I don't know what is going on, but it feels weird. First the picture, and the dinner," Bryan said.

"I heard him singing one night," Mark said quietly.

"And he invited me to watch the meteor shower with him," Joe added.

Steve was pondering over these thoughts when his phone went off. Seconds later the other three phones in the room went off also.

Flipping open the phone, they could see that it was a text message from David. All it said was an address and a time, ten hundred.

Steve looked at his watch and nodded. "Let's go men,"

>>>>>>>>>>>>

The four men were extremely puzzled as they stepped out of the car. Rising before them was a massive carnival. They could see David waiting at the front gate.

"What's up Boss?" Steve asked as they approached.

David shrugged, "Let's go have some fun," he said as he turned to buy tickets.

Dinner

"Oh, what smells so good?" Bryan asked as he came in the front door, followed by the other three.

Both Mark and Steve inhaled the scents of roasting meat that were coming from the kitchen.
"Whatever it is, is sure smells good," Mark said and he inhaled again, internalizing the scents.

Steve poked his head around the doorway and into the kitchen. He was rewarded by a powerful gust of scents as David opened the oven door. "Cooking Boss?" Steve asked in surprise.

David looked up from where he was placing the food on the counter, "Yes," he said simply.

"What are you making?" Steve asked as he stepped fully into the kitchen.

"Seared duck with a raspberry chipolte demi glace sauce, Garlic whipped potatoes, a harvest vegetable medley, a butternut squash soup, a spring mix salad with almonds, feta cheese, and dried cranberries, and a passion fruit mousse for dessert," David said, though he sounded distracted. "Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. Go get cleaned up."

"Yes Boss," Steve said as he ushered the others out of the kitchen and towards the back of the house.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The team sat around, groaning in pleasure at the delicious food that they had been treated to. Finally, Mark said, "I didn't know you could cook Boss."

David looked up at him from the small coffee gup he was contemplating, "A good friend taught me a long time ago. It has been a long time though since I have cooked."

"Well, it was the best I have ever eaten," Bryan piped up and the others agreed.

"Thank you," David said simply.

Not The Same

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Ellis demanded.

Scott hugged his knees to his chest. “I didn’t start anything. I was doing my share of the ambulance check and he whacked me.” He had a black eye and a split lip, but he still wasn’t hurting nearly as much as Graham was.

“That boy-band fag was givin’ me lip,” Graham said. His voice was muffled behind the handkerchief he had pressed to his broken nose.

Scott’s eyes blazed. “I’m not a fag, and I wasn’t in a boy-band. I’m sick and tired of taking crap from you guys about what I used to do.” He stood up, scooped up his guitar. “You know what? I’m damn proud of the music I made with my brothers. I don’t care what you people think - I’m a good musician and nothing you say will ever change that.”

“I don’t care what you used to do,” Ellis said sharply. “I care about you getting along with the crew.”

“I haven’t been stepping on anyone’s toes,” Scott said. “I pitch in and do my share and don’t complain.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Graham said. “You’re not one of us.”

Scott leaned in so they were almost nose-to-nose. “You don’t know what it’s like to be me.”

“And you don’t know what it’s like to be me either,” Graham shot back.

“I’ll tell you what,” Scott said, “when you figure out how to make it so when I close my eyes I don’t hear people screaming and dying, we can call it a mile in each other’s shoes.”

“We’re EMTs - we see people die every day,” Graham said.

“Death,” Scott said softly, “is not the same as murder.”

(288 words)

Who Else

John’s last mission was to make sure the boys made it home safe. Luckily for him, his duties ended at the border, so he lingered on the edge of the throng of fans gathered at the airport and watched. And waited.

“I thought you and Carolyn were done with the tour,” Dinah Summers said.

John’s hand went for his gun, and he cursed himself. How the hell had he missed her?

“Nostalgia,” he said, eased his hand away from his gun.

Dinah didn’t miss the motion. “I know what really happened in Germany.”

“The boys were lucky they were out breaking curfew when the quake happened,” John lied smoothly. “Kevin just thinks they were quick on their feet.”

Dinah shook her head. “No. I know what really happened.” She took a deep breath. “It was right after Scotty was born. We needed money, so I signed up for a medical study. By the time I was pregnant, I realized something was wrong, that it was no ordinary medical study. Tell me one thing, John, will they hurt my son?”

“Not anymore,” he said. “We worked long and hard to make sure they can’t. It’s done, now. He’ll be free to live a normal life - or as normal as it can be, seeing who he is.”

A chorus of cheers and screams rose up when Scott, half-awake, stepped into the terminal laden down with his luggage and guitar case.

“You weren’t sent to kill him?” Dinah’s voice quavered.

John shook his head. “They wouldn’t have killed him either. But it was our job to protect him.”

“Who else worked with you?”

“Who else but Carolyn?”

(275 words - too many people know now, don't they?)

Perseid

Joe threw down his pencil in frustration over his paperwork, and wiped the sweat from his face. "Perfect," he muttered, "middle of August and the cooler goes out. It has to be the most humid and hot night on record," he griped to no one. Joe stood up and walked to the kitchen, stripping off his damp and sweat soaked over shirt. He reached into the fridge and pulled out a cold soda; David didn't allow alcohol in the house, and rolled the cool can over his face and neck. As he turned to go back to his work he spotted David walking out the back door with a large cylinder over his shoulder. Curious, Joe followed him to the backyard.

Joe watched in fascination as David set up the cylinder. It looked like it was made from a cardboard tube.

"What are you doing Boss?" Joe asked after observing him for a few moments.

"Tonight is the peak of the Perseid meteor shower; it's when the earth moves through the trail left by a comet, there will be a lot of shooting stars tonight," David said as he looked at the youngest member of his team.

Joe frowned in puzzlement, "I didn't know you were into meteor showers," he said.

David smiled and brushed some dust off of the telescope, "a long time ago, I wasn't, at least not at first, but a very good friend of mine was," he said as he adjusted the angle of the lens. He looked up at Joe, "would you care to join me? It should be quite the show tonight."

Joe thought about it briefly, "okay," he said after a moment, "I would like that."

David smiled and stepped aside so that Joe could get a look at the sky.

"Wow," Joe breathed in wonder as he watched streaks of light flash past.

"Yeah," David said with a gentle smile. He stood back and looked up at the heavens, a single tear brimmed, but didn't fall.

The First Time

Paul had been really patient about teaching Clay how to play the guitar, and they were celebrating Clay’s mastery of the chord hammer by getting drunk next to a bonfire on the beach.

“So.” Paul gesticulated wildly with his half-empty bottle of rum. “Tell me, Clay Timothy Summers, what is the worst thing you’ve ever seen? I mean, you’ve been a rock star since you were, like, born. So really, what’s the worst you’ve seen?”

Clay swiped the bottle from Paul, sipped thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Paul smirked. “Try me.”

“So, Bobby and I were in love with the same girl one time.” Clay stared into the flames. The ones on the edge, the darker ones tinged with shadow, were almost the same shade as Carolyn’s eyes.

“Lemme guess - you caught Bobby and her doin’ it up against the wall after a concert!” Paul’s grin was wicked.

Clay shook his head. “No, jerk. I’m being serious here.”

“What happened, then?”

“I fell out of love with her the first time I saw her kill a man.”

Paul choked on his rum. “The first time?”

(189 words)

Requiem

Bryan's eyebrows knitted in confusion at the sounds coming from the living room. It was three in the morning and Bryan had needed a glass of water. It sounded like low humming, a sad song. Eventually the tune resolved itself into words, sung ponderously, as if recalling a memory, or trying to forget one.

Byran was even more confused when he recognized almost instantly his commanders voice. He took a quick peek around the doorway and saw David at his desk, looking at the photo that they had found earlier that night.

Bryan listened as he hung back out of sight in the dining room. Bryan felt tears welling in his eyes as he listened to the heartbreak in his leaders voice, and had to wipe at his face. Bryan eased back from the door as David fell silent; he could hear the muffled tears from his friend, and walked, cat-silent back to his own room.

Bryan had a hard time falling asleep again that night.