Taffey (Cort)

Look at him, smilin’ at me that charmin’ grin. His beautiful blue eyes sparklin’ like sunny waters in spring. Thinkin’ I’d go on a buggy ride with such a man, outlaw and all.

“Mary Bell, how’s about a buggy ride later?”

“Sure, Cort. Pick me up at 5:00.”

****************************************************************

Just look at him, smiling like a satisfied Cheshire cat. Those chameleon eyes twinkling like stars in a summer sky. Does he imagine I’d go anywhere with the likes of him?

“Miss Elizabeth, may I take you for a buggy ride tonight?”

“Yes, of course, Cort. Come for me at 7:00 sharp.”

Kazlyn (Terry)

CONSEQUENCES

Terry Thorne stood at the window. He gazed out across the lights of London, a glass of whisky held, untouched, in his hands. In the sky above, the blinking lights of an aircraft swept over, inbound to the City Airport only a few miles away.

London...

It didn't feel right. Nothing about it felt right. This whole Bowman business felt distinctly unsavoury.

He sipped the amber liquid in the glass, feeling it barn down his throat into his belly.

F**k! F**k it! He couldn't do this! He couldn't leave Bowman stranded like this.

Turning sharply, he picked up the phone.

Rachel (Jack Aubrey)

BITTERSWEET REMEMBRANCE

Jack tenderly lifted the miniature from his sea-chest. It had been painted shortly after his marriage, and he had carried it on every voyage since. Five years since her passing, and yet his grief was as fresh and as keen as if it had been yesterday. Tears, overflowing now, spilling down his cheeks as he remembered: her hair like spun gold, her grace. Yet darker memories also: her reluctance in the marriage-bed, her growing shrewishness, her jealousy.

"God, I miss you so, my Sophie"

Suddenly, a hand upon his shoulder.  Stephen.

" 'Tis a bittersweet season, to be sure, joy."

PRIDE AND DUTY

What on earth had possessed him, Stephen thought, to fly out at Jack in that way, to rail on about pride and duty when his own duty should have been to ease the burden of guilt that weighed upon Jack's conscience? He had begun with the best of intentions, but then Jack had thrown out that infernal question, and to answer with any degree of truth seemed so very much like informing: any comment made to Jack even as a friend was necessarily also addressed to Captain Jack Aubrey, RN. 'Twas no more than his own foolish pride, to be sure.

Jax (Hando)

ARGH

‘Damn’ Hando thought. It seemed every tattoo he got hurt worse. He rubbed his arm where two inches above his wrist was now written “Australia” in gold leaf lettering. He shrugged, it was worth it, the message was clear and easy for all to see. HIS country.

PROWL

He walked along the street meeting any eyes who had the courage to meet his, his black coat swinging along with broad shoulders. He met the eyes of a young blond woman dressed in black, the message was passed in a glance, he turned and linked his arm with hers, the pain forgotten.

Sharon (Multiple)

DOWN TO THE CELLULAR LEVEL

“Crikey, would you look at that!”

Chloe grinned at them all as Lachlan held up the results of his test, looking quite chuffed.

“What’s yours, mate?” Terry asked of Cort.  The gun-slinger slid his results over, looking amused.

“I think you’ll find each one have your own type,” Chloe said to them as they turned to her. Asking Terry, Cort, Jack, John, Bud, Hando, and Maximus to let her test their blood type had led to interesting results. “Among the combinations possible.”

Each one of the Boyz at the Point was uniquely different, right down to their very blood cells.

Rachel (Jack Aubrey)

A sharp blow; the world faded to darkness.

When Jack regained his wits, he saw that the battle was well nigh over.  Yet something was amiss.  Men brushed by him, but did not seem to touch him; nor did they seem to feel the blows he delivered as they passed.

"Mr Pullings! Mr Mowett!" He summoned his officers, but none answered.  Turning, he observed a small knot of men - those officers included - gathered around a fallen comrade; fear clutched his heart.

Oh dear Lord, not Stephen; please, not him.  He offered up a silent, desperate prayer.

As he approached, Tom Pullings turned, his scarred faced even more distorted by grief.

"Who is it, Tom?" he asked quietly, but the lieutenant made no reply.

It was not Stephen, he noted with immense relief as he drew closer; the Surprise's physician was knelt beside the fallen officer - for an officer it was - his back obscuring the man's face and mark of rank.  Jack leaned forward, the better to identify the man whose funeral he would have to conduct a few hours hence.

Buttercup yellow…

Jack watched as Stephen gently closed his Captain's eyes with a trembling, bloody hand.

Sagaluthien (John Nash)

Alicia watched her husband, John. Everything had gone well for sometime, though she learned that things could always go wrong. She was scared it would. Because of the earlier regression, she tried to see the early signs and be there to help, but she knew she might never trust him one hundred percent.

She feared things could go worse again because it been going so well for so long, that they had relaxed too much. She had to be strong and ready to try again and again.

Even if it was hard, she did love him. He had awakened something inside her no one else had. It was John Nash she had chosen to live with, and there would be much of their lives to change.

As if he had felt her watching him, he looked towards her.  Putting his pen down, he went to her.