[fractions]

Lazy days = harddrive-cleaning

= this post

*

«We shouldn't be here.»
He closed the door behind them, and the room went dark.
«You're with me now,» he whispered. «You can go anywhere you like.»
He pulled her hair aside, lips brushing her skin. «I'll take you anywhere you want to go.»
«Will you?» Her voice was a mere breath.
«Anywhere...» He kissed her neck. «Any way...»

*

She rolled her eyes, turning to the wall to examine the now clean slate.
“Oh no,” she groaned.
Riley hurried over. “What is it?”
“It's a sliding puzzle.” Kathy cursed. “I hate sliding puzzles, I can NEVER get them right.”
“Makes two of us,” Riley agreed. “Would help if we knew what it was though.”
Kathy ran her hand across the ancient pattern
“Hang on...” She shone her torch on to one of the tiles.
“Lion's head,” she muttered, moving her hand to another tile. “Fleur de lis.”
“It's annoying when Ben does that,” Riley interrupted. “And no less when you do.”
“It's King Phillip's seal,” Kathy said, ignoring him. “Look, here's another lion's head.”
When Riley continued to look lost, she continued. “King Phillip's seal shows him sitting on a throne of lions. Holding a sceptre with a fleur de lis, and another one in his hand.”
“What's a 'fledeliss',” Riley asked.
“Fleur de lis,” Kathy corrected. “It's French, it means 'lily flower'. It's a very popular symbol, found in everything from wallpaper to king's seals. Incidentally, it's also one of the symbols of the Templars.”
“Think that means anything. That he had it, I mean?” Riley nodded towards the seal.
“Probably not,” Kathy confessed. “It wasn't uncommon for French kings to use it as part of their seal.”

*

The room might have been an office once, but that was before the paperwork had taken over. There were files on the desk, chairs, floor, jammed between and on top of books in the shelves. A whiteboard on one of the walls was so crammed full of pictures it hardly had a single white spot left. There were stacks of files in every corner, strewn across a small table with two chairs and in the windowsill. Even the waste-basket had files piled on top of it, although Lily felt far from certain this meant they were junk.

[fractions]

I didn't have time to answer, she was on her way to the elevator before I could even open my mouth. I watched her go, musing over what kind of person she was when no one saw her. Wicked tongues claimed she just went home at night to recharge, and that the tight bun at the back of her neck hid the usb-port. At times, I almost believed them.

*

The man walking towards me looked completely out of place in Mary's steril office. From the stonewashed, hole-strewn jeans and right up to the ruffled hair and unkempt beard. But as I recognised his face, I felt a pang of pride in the confidence Mary had in me.
He stopped in front of me, pushing his pilot sunglasses into his wild hair.

*

– Age? Marital status? No no, wait. Let me guess.
He eyed me, trying to look scrutinizing. The attempt failed utterly, but I fought to keep a straight face.
– 32, he said finally.
– And married. 4 children, 3 boys and a girl. Your husband is... a music video-director. But a poor one at that, so you feed the family. And you have a dog, a golden retriver named Lucky. And live in a white house-
– With a white picket fence? I shot in.
– No, he said defensivly.
– You haven't had time to paint it yet.

[fractions of fiction]

– I've been thinking
– Yes?
– About those rules.
He leaned past me, grabbing the calender.
– One, in particular.
– And which one would that be?
– The "never get personal" one.
– What about it?
– Well, we're getting to be pretty good friends. Is that going to be a problem?
– Not for you, I smiled.
The look on his face made me kill the smile instantly.
– That was a joke.
– I know.
He gave me a small smile, but his eyes betrayed him.
– But it still answered my question.

*

I knew I had lost. In fact, I had lost the minute our eyes locked. I couldn't say 'no' to them, and consequently I couldn't say 'no' to him. The rational part of my brain was frenzied, desperate for anything that would win me the discussion. But I found nothing. Instead, I found that another small eternity had passed while I was lost in his gaze.

Probably nothing

A canister of an unidentified, potentially dangerous substance is opened in Walter's lab, leaving our four friends isolated until the substance is identified. When you've said everything you have to say, maybe it's time to say the things you never thought you would...

Ships: Olivia/Peter
Spoilers: None, I think

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing Peter, Olivia, Astrid and Walter for my own (and hopefully your) amusement.

Forgive my incomplete knowledge of dangerous substances and horrid diseases, as well as the process of identifying them. I have tried to acquire as much information as possible, but alas; biology was never my subject. I wasn't really going down that road in the first place, but as always; I stray...

Three degrees of tension

There was something in the air. Something so thick you could cut it with a knife. Tension would have been a good word for it, but after two days of isolation it was too meagre a description. Four people, each in their own corner, each with their back turned to the other three. The silence was absolute, almost pressing, save the odd sniff or cough. Everything that could be said had been said at least twice, and now they all tried their best to forget each other, and where they were. A heavy rainfall had been beating against the windowpanes far up on the wall, but had died down about half an hour ago and left the four prisoners in the now unbearable silence.

There was a mark on the desk where the canister had stood, faintly traced by a small layer of the greyish dust which sparkled every so slightly in the dim light from the work-lamp. Two days ago it had exploded out of its container like a cloud of silver, settling all over the lab, including its four inhabitants. Thirty minutes later the room was hermetically sealed. Walter had insisted he could easily identify the powder on his own, but agent Broyles had refused for "safety-reasons". Now, there was nothing to do but wait.

- Corn dog!
Inevitably, it was Walter who broke the silence.
- I should very much like a corn dog. Perhaps a banana milkshake. Peter, would you be so kind as to fetch me one?
- We're not allowed to leave the lab, Walter, remember?
- We're not? Why?
- Because they haven't identified the substance yet.
- They haven't? What's taking them so long?
When Peter didn't answer, Walter just shrugged and began humming the national anthem. He cut of midway through the verse, and changed tunes to an unorthodox version of what sounded like «Fly me to the moon», eagerly conducting himself as he hummed.

Peter abruptly pushed his chair away and headed for the only other room they could visit, a small bathroom at one end of the lab.
- Where are you going, Peter? Walter inquired, but the only reply he got was the slamming of the door.

Olivia's cellphone sounded, its chirp echoing all around the lab. She answered it, her expression unchanged as she listened to the voice on the other end.
- I see. Yes. Well I guess we'll just have to.
She hung up, and Astrid looked at her.
- No news?
Olivia shook her head.
- Nothing.

Peter drew a sink-full of ice cold water, and splashed his face several times. He stared up at the dismal sight in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, bright red right to the pupil. His hair stood out in every direction, and he saw no point in trying to settle it. His skin itched, but he felt certain that could be construed to the hay he'd (tried) to sleep on last night, not the mysterious powder the DHS and FBI were so worried about. Had it not been for the events of the last few months, he would have discarded the powder as harmless a long time ago since none of them showed any symptoms of anything. But the things he had seen since Olivia had recruited him had taught him nothing could be discarded.

The door opened behind him.
- Walter, I don't want an audience while I'm peeing.
- Trust me, I have no desire to see it.
He turned, smiling at Olivia.
- Thought you were Walter.
She smiled back
- Yeah, I get that a lot.
She shut the door behind her, and turned to him.
- Broyles just called.
- And?
- They think they've cracked it.
- What is it?
Peter looked eager.
- They're not sure, but whatever it is, it closely resembles anthrax. Except it's some kind of unknown mutation.
She hesitated.
- What?
- They don't know what will happen. We might not get sick at all, or we might...
- Die horribly and painfully?
- Something to that effect.
- How about a cure?
- They can't give us that until they know what they're up against. It might make it worse.
Peter nodded.
- So we just hang in there?
- Yes. I haven't told Walter and Astrid, I didn't...
- There's no point in telling them yet, Peter agreed.

From the lab came Walter's muffled singing. He appeared to have changed genre to show-tunes. Olivia leaned against the wall, eyes shut tight.
- I adore your father, Peter, but one more song and I swear
Peter opened the door.
- Walter, take five!
- I don't believe I know that one.
- Then take a break.
- All right, Peter.
He closed the door, and she gave him a thankful smile.
- Sorry, I just
- Don't worry about it. I share a hotel-room with him, remember?
- Ah, but he doesn't sing with you.
- No no, you're right. The Fibonacci-sequence, night after night after night, is so much less annoying.
She laughed a little, and he smiled.
- You look tired, he said, serious again.
- I am, she admitted. -
- I didn't sleep much last night.
- Me neither, he confessed.
- Walter kept kicking me.
- He kicks in his sleep?
Peter shook his head.
- No no, he just kept kicking me.

*

- This is taking far too long.
Walter resolutely got up, and headed for the powder-covered desk.
- Walter, you're not supposed to
- Mildred, I cannot stand sitting idle while mine and my son's life hangs on someone so clearly void of competence.
- And yours and Agent Dunham's, of course, he added absentmindedly.
He started roaming a cupboard, pulling out several jars, tubes, pipets and bottles of different coloured liquid.
- Walter, I really don't think you should, Astrid started, but he waved a hand at her.
- Either you are with me, or you are against me, my dear.
She sighed, but went to help him.

*

Olivia sunk to the floor and closed her eyes. Peter joined her.
- You know, it's not half bad being stuck here, he admitted.
- The company is good, at least.
She smiled.
- That's true.
A strand of hair fell in front of her face, and Peter tucked it away behind her ear. His fingers brushed her cheek slightly, and she startled a little. He wasn't swayed. His hand continued up into her hair, and he tangled his fingers into it. With his other hand, he lifted her chin so her face was level with his.
- Olivia?
- Yes.
- In case we do die a horrible, painful death, there's something I have to do.
His breath was warm on her face.
- Yes?
- See, I'll never forgive myself, in this life or the next, if I don't kiss you now.
She smiled.
- Well, we can't have any of that.
He laughed, tangling his other hand in her hair and pulling her closer. Their lips met, eager and demanding, both of them pouring months of sexual tension into this first kiss.
Suddenly he pulled away.
- I shouldn't do this.
- Why not, she asked, catching her breath.
- I just had a cold, Peter grinned.
- You might catch it.

*

- Walter, I'm not entirely sure Agent Dunham will be to happy about this.
- I recall you speaking very warmly of a concert tomorrow, Kirsten, Walter said, stirring carefully in a dark green liquid.
- I wouldn't trust the Department of Homeland Security to take that into account in their work.
- What makes you think you can solve this any faster than them.
- I don't know that I can, he admitted, adding some of the powder to the green liquid. It changed colour and turned dark brown.
- But as long as I'm working on this too, you have twice as big a chance of making said concert.

*

Peter reached past Olivia and turned the lock in the door. His lips found hers again, and he kissed her eagerly.
- Do you always kiss with this much vengeance? she teased
- Only when I think I'm going to die, he muttered against her lips.
- Why, are you complaining?
He began to pull away, but she grabbed him and drew him close again.
- Not even a little bit.
- Funny, he mused.
- I never thought our first kiss would occur in the bathroom in my father's lab.
- Out of curiosity, where did you think it would happen? Olivia asked.
- Being that you can't leave him alone, I mean.
- I figured we'd just have a quickie on the sofa while Walter was reciting numbers in the next room.

*

- Oh, how very clever!
Walter looked spectacularly pleased with himself.
- What is it? Astrid asked, putting down the book she had been flipping through.
- I'm not sure, but this looks very much like a decoy.
- A decoy?
He grinned.
- Yes. Ingenious really. It closely resembles anthrax, but from what I can see this is completely harmless. I'm not 100% percent certain yet, but it seems you can start getting ready for... what was it? Dollar?
- 50 cent, Astrid sighed, but couldn't help but smile.
- Yes, well if I'm right you will be seeing Mr. Cent very soon, Walter smiled.

*

- What are you thinking, she muttered.
- I'm thinking I hope we don't die, Peter smiled, kissing her forehead.
- Would be an awful shame not to get to do this again.
- Peter! Agent Dunham!
Peter sighed.
- Yes, Walter.
- Are you both in there?
- Yes, we are.
- I see... Oh, are you two having sexual intercourse?
Olivia collapsed in soundless laughter, and Peter stifled a dejected moan.
- No Walter, we're not.
- Oh. Well, good. You can come out then?
- Yes, we can Walter.
- Then I suggest you do. I have something to show you.
- Can it wait a few minutes? Peter asked.
- Of course, yes. You need to get dressed.
Olivia jumped up and unlocked the door.
- We're not naked, Walter.
- I can see that very plainly, my dear.
Peter got to his feet too.
- What was it you wanted to show us, Walter?
- Huh?
- You wanted to show us something?
- I did? Oh yes, I did. Or rather, I wanted to show you what's not there.
- Walter identified the powder, Astrid shot in.
- Yes, that's right. I did. He grinned proudly
Peter looked expectantly at him.
- And?
- And what?
- What is it, Walter?
- Oh, right. Yes. Nothing, it's completely harmless.
- Walter, are you sure? Olivia asked.
- Absolutely, my dear.

Olivia's phone chirped again, interrupting the conversation. She answered it.
- Dunham. Yes. Yes. You don't say?
She shot Peter a sly smile.
- Well, thank you. They'll be very pleased to hear that.
She hung up, and looked up at the other three.
- The powder is harmless, she announced.
- We can all go.
- Bye! Astrid shouted, and disappeared before anyone had time to return it.
Olivia smiled at Walter.
- Next time Broyles doubts you, I'm sticking up for you, Walter.
- I appreciate that, my dear.

Letters

A/N: I had faith in Severus all along, but even the strongest of us stray from time to time, allowing doubt to sow a seed. This was written two days after I finished the Halfbood Prince-book. I don't know what it originally started out as, but it ended up as a letter from Severus to us; his trusting fans.

I just found it again, and in light of having seen the movie yesterday and being reminded of how I felt right after I finished the book, before my senses came back and I thwarted doubt for good, I decided now would be a good time to publish it.

Disclaimer: Severus is not in any way my creation, but the work of the brilliant JK Rowling. I hope she doesn't mind me borrowing him from time to time.

Letters

My hands tremble, the blood still rushes through my veins. I am warm, yet cold. Tired, yet wide awake. Proud, yet shameful. Fearful, yet relieved. All these years I've been living a lie. Watched my every step, weighed my every word. Waited. Watched. Prayed.

Some part of me always knew, though I tried to tell myself otherwise. Tried to calm myself. He was gone, his power crushed. His reign broken. But I knew all too well that evil does not diminish quite so easily. Had I not myself been closer to him than most, and more closely than any watched how desperately he sought power? How far he would go, and went, to get it? And yet, I let myself believe he would go that easily?

They still celebrate downstairs. I can hear their singing, their merriment. And I must join them soon. There is only so long I can hide behind excuses to allow myself to mourn. Though, what right have I to mourn? What justifies me grieving a life I knowingly took? Do I not deserve this torture of remembering his face as I shall forever se it; filled with disappointment.

Is it not only right that it should torment me? It was after all a choice I made willingly... or was it a choice at all?

"The time has come to chose between what is right, and what is easy." I may not have chosen right, but nor can I say my choice was an easy one. I paved the path to my future years ago, and back then I saw no other option. I did not take the wrong path, just a different one. We do not all have the freedom to make what we want of ourselves.

You will argue that we do. That free will enables us all to make the right choices. But free will is human, and human I stopped being years ago. There was scarcely any human left in me when I chose my way. For me, there was only one road. And call it what you will, but an easy one it has not been.

And thus, when he returned as I knew he would, it was only a matter of time before I would have to return to that road. You think I had a choice? All I could do was delay. Eventually, I knew I must return to who I once was.

I do not ask that you forgive me. Forgiveness I have not earned. Nor pity. You are angry with me, and I understand. You gave me your trust, and I misused it. You were there for me when no one else was, believed in me when no one else did. You fought for me, defended me. Trusted me. And this is how I repay you?

Anger, indeed. I deserve far worse. I have let you down, and left you to suffer. Broken your trust, and left your belief in vain. You will pay for my mistakes. They will tell you you were wrong. That they were right. That I was evil all along.

And yet, I offer my apologies. Not in hope of forgiveness, for I deserve none. But in the hope that you will at least understand. This was a path I chose long before I knew you, and when you came into my life, it was too late.

This is who I am, and who I've always been. It was never my wish that you should find out like this, but now that you have, know this;

I am truly sorry. Although I do not know how to say for how much. I regret so many things that regret is no longer in me. You placed your faith in me, and I betrayed it. I no longer deserve anything from you. I know I have lost your faith, your trust and your love. And I do not ask for it back. I only wish you find someone who better deserves it.

Farewell...