Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part VIII)

Part VIII – “Please teach me gently how to breathe”

You can find every previous part here.


“Open yer mouth.” I ordered with what I thought might be a commanding voice, holding a spoon in front of her stubbornly closed lips. “This jelly actually looks delicious. Ye need yer strength.”

“Yuck.” Claire showed me her tongue in distaste. “Why don’t you eat it, then? I’ve been eating that yellow blob for the last three weeks!”

“Sometimes it’s red.” I pointed patiently. “I ken ye’re tired of being here, mo nighean donn – I have spent enough time in hospitals to last me a lifetime, I assure ye – but ye’re scrawny as a bird fallen from its nest. They won’t let ye leave unless ye put on some weight.”

“Fine.” She replied in a mordant tone, clutching the spoon away from me. “But I can feed myself – I’ve been shot, not taken back in time to when I was two years old.”

“Then stop acting like a wicked bairn.” I offered her a playful nose scrunch. “How is yer pain?”

“About as good as it was two minutes ago, the last time you asked.” Claire swallowed a spoonful of the hospital’s dessert, grimacing. “Are you sure you haven’t been a nurse in a past life? You seem to like prodding and ordering way too much.”

“I’m sure whatever I was, ye were always the one in charge, lass.” I kissed her forehead – marvelling with the freshness of her skin, after so many days of burning fever. On top of her surgery, from which she was slowly recovering, Claire had developed an infection of her suture – which finally had started to heal properly, after days of intravenous antibiotics. Her usually calm and centred temper had suffered with prolonged seclusion and constant fear of a relapse – and undoubtedly she found my constant attentions profoundly tiresome, if amusing and heartening.

“How is my favourite patient?” Denzel asked, entering the room and greeting us with a warm smile. He looked tired, wearing his crumpled scrubs, his surgical cap slightly hanging from a pocket. “I hear half of the nurses in the department are handing in their notices, unless I discharge you.”

“Hardly.” Claire smiled, neatly folding a corner of her sheet after pushing away the lunch tray. She still looked quite pale, with deep dark smudges under her eyes, but her orbs had regained their usual sharpness and liveliness. “But I’ll let you get away with it if you let me leave this damned place.”

“I’ll have to check your dressings.” Denny squeezed my shoulder in a companion manner, before stepping in to expose her abdomen, still covered with fluffy white bandages. “Your labs are back though – your infection parameters are finally down, so you might be in for some good news.”

After some clicking of his tongue – and a heated debate between the two doctors, from which I only understood about half the strange words – it was settled that Claire was allowed to leave the next day, as long as she accepted to come in every two days to check and redress the wound.

“And you have to build up some body again.” Denzel alerted, ignoring her disarming glances with a professional face. “The infection took almost all of your muscle. You need to eat a bit more if you want to heal nicely.”

“Fine!” She conceded, mocking exasperation. “Get me a cheeseburger, then!”

“Take care, Claire.” Denny winked and brushed her hair with a kind hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning before you leave.”

“Will ye go home, do ye think?” I asked slowly, as she adjusted her pillow to settle in for the afternoon, after Denzel’s departure.

“Where else would I go?” Claire gave me a questioning look, softly squeezing my hand.

“Well,” I started, caressing her knuckles with my thumb. “I was thinking ye could come to my place – just while ye heal.” I added hurriedly, trying not to sound desperate and possessive. “My mind wouldna be at ease if ye were alone in her house, almost empty as it is, with no one to look after ye.”

“If you’re sure.” She raised a brow and smiled. “I can be quite the handful.”

“I am.” I breathed out, trying to control the emotions that seemed to ran so close to the surface, exposed and rampant, after her injury. “Bad things seem to happen when we’re apart. I want ye close to me – I want to care for ye, mo ghraidh.”

“It’s settled, then.” Claire grabbed by hand and pulled me in for a rewarding kiss. “You’ll be my private nurse.”


She had protested, assuring me she was quite capable of climbing up the stairs to my apartment – but I saw the effort everything required of her, even standing or laughing too hard – and carried her in my arms, only letting go when I laid her down on my bed.

After helping her change into some comfortable pyjamas, I contentedly sat by the bedroom window, grading some tests from my students, while she took a nap. Once in a while I stopped, my eyes drifting to her, reassuring myself she dreamt within my reach.

I cooked us a simple dinner – roasted chicken with basil and tomatoes, aromatic and homely – and helped her to lay down again, determined to find a place in the sofa or on the floor, where I could sleep close to her without disturbing her.

“Will you sleep next to me?” She asked softly, her brown curls and hawk eyes almost the only visible thing inside the cocoon of quilts I had made around her. “I’d sleep better with you beside me.”

“Aye.” I replied in a husky voice, easing myself under the covers next to her with gentleness, trying not to disturb her with my movements – the idea of causing her any pain made my stomach churn.

I placed an arm around her, reassuring her of my presence – mindful not to put too much pressure over her or to touch her scar. For a time we laid silent, aware of each other’s presence, discovering the intimacy of a bed shared in darkness.

We had been so once before – but at that time she had been devastated, wrecked like a ship after an unforgiving storm, and I had offered her security, a presence of someone who loved her without any demands. I remembered how I had stayed awake, memorizing her until I could recreate her in my heart - believing I’d never see her again, much less hold her in my arms. I wondered if she too recalled that night, when I had offered her the knowledge of my feelings, in the hope that she could use them to heal – and she had.  

I knew she wasn’t sleeping – I’d spent every day and night for the last weeks watching her sleep, until I knew the cadence of her breathing, the comes and goings of her dreams, like a second nature of my own.

She trashed about a little, fidgeting with bedclothes and adjusting her body on the mattress – always laying on her left side, wishing to avoid the tenderness of her upper right quadrant – slowly searching for the contact of my body behind hers, sheltering her like a cloak, two halves finally falling into place.

I waited for her to speak, painfully aware of the desires of my body, feeling her soft arse wedged between my thighs – yet completely restrained by the will of the woman who ruled me.  

A hand came up in the darkness and she placed it gently on my hip.

“I want you.” Claire whispered, almost sobbing. “I need you, Jamie.”

“Are ye sure?” I asked in a husky voice, my fingertips brushing her face, tracing her lips to find truth in her words in the absence of sight. “I dinna want to hurt ye. I’d die if I hurt ye, mo nighean donn.”

“You could never hurt me.” She replied softly, caressing the length of my thigh. “I can’t breathe while we’re apart. I must have you – please, Jamie.”

I didn’t try to dissuade her again, even afraid as I was that it was too soon, too hazardous. I knew all too well the hunger that moved her towards me, starved for life when death had come so close, when it seemed that each moment could be the last. We had lost and found each other in the past, time and again – it seemed that while we were one flesh, one body, parting us would be impossible. While we were in each other, life – and death – was an afterthought, a remote threat, to which we were immune while moving as one.

I moved impossibly slowly, wishing to give her enough space to retrocede at any time, baring us of as many clothes as possible. I kissed the back of her neck, delighted in the small shivers of her skin next to mine, the testament of her arousal in her hardened nipples. I caressed her body with a worshiping hand, taking time at each new discovery that made her moan and hiss in pleasure.

When I thought her ready – desperately pressing herself against me while clawing at my hair – I held her thigh with a light hand and raised her, slightly folding my legs, so I could enter her. I rocked calmly with her body nestled against mine, letting her command the pace while I carried all the weight of her movements.

“I love you”. She whispered – moaned - tilting her head to kiss my lips. “Jamie.” I felt the moistness of her cheeks mixed with mine, tears of a joy long forsaken, exploding between us with enough force to leave us gasping, deeply moved.

It didn’t take long – I knew she was still weak, stubborn and lustful as she might have been. When I felt her tire in my arms, my hand came around her hips to delicately touch her in time with our movements, smiling as she cried out my name.

Afterwards, I held her against me, my hand brushing the dressing on her belly to make sure everything was in place – feeling the comforting thump of our hearts beating together, close enough to be inside the same chest.

“I was right.” She murmured on the verge of sleep, surrendering to my keeping once more. “Nothing hurts when you love me.”

The end

…for now - End of Section 1

missbuster  asked:

Could you write a missing scene after Daniel is exposed to Midnight Oil? Either before he comes to his senses in the hospital, or after he wakes up (and is still tied to the bed)?

Daniel was as restrained as they could make him, handcuffed and also bound securely with electrical cables. He was completely limp, his head lolling as Peggy and two SSR agents manhandled him into the back of a car for the trip to the hospital. His breath came in quick shallow gasps, with an odd underlying raspiness. Seeing him so helpless made Peggy’s stomach twist horribly, especially not knowing what had happened to him, or how much worse it was likely to get.

But there was nothing she could do. No way she could help, except by letting those who could help him do their jobs.

“Put a guard on him in hospital,” she told the agents. She was prepared for a struggle, but to her surprise, all she got was a nod.

The events of the past few hours had turned the entire office upside down. Dooley was dead and everything was in disarray; no one really seemed to be in charge at the moment, and Peggy had a feeling that most people were simply looking for someone, anyone, to tell them what to do.

She watched the SSR car carrying Daniel pull out, weaving around the other emergency vehicles jamming the street, and then went back into the building. She had to steel herself to enter the theatre where Daniel had been taken down. It had been oppressive before – the close, stale air heavy with an unpleasant mix of smells, popcorn and sweat and perfume and a stink that was all too familiar from the war: the smell of human blood and fear. Now it was even worse, because something had gotten Daniel; was it safe for any of them to be in the vicinity?

She found Thompson supervising a search of the rows of seats around where Daniel had gone down. “Got something,” he crowed triumphantly when he saw her, and pointed at a bundle on one of the seats. To Peggy it looked like a bundle of various jackets and other clothing items.

“What is it?”

“One of the cops found a canister under the seats. We’ve got it wrapped up as much as we can.” Jack picked his way around spilled popcorn and abandoned items of clothing to her. The red marks from Daniel’s fingers were fading on his throat. “Lab’s on its way over with more secure containment. And guess what we found on the canister?”

Peggy shook her head impatiently.

“Stark’s logo.”

“The missing crate 17,” she murmured.

“Guess we know what it does now.”

They both looked around the theatre; Peggy’s eyes went to the broken light on the floor, knocked over when Daniel had flung her off him.

Thompson cleared his throat. “How’s Sousa doing?”

“He was still out when I last saw him. Agents Mathis and Lovell are driving him to the hospital.”

She didn’t think she looked that worried, so it was a little surprising when Jack flashed her a quick smile. “Sousa’s tough. He’ll be fine.” Jack rubbed idly at the bruises on his neck. “Even if he did attack a federal agent.”

“Two federal agents,” she reminded him.

“Did he give you a shiner? Let me see.”

Peggy jerked her head out of reach. “Do we know how many canisters were in the crate?”

“Didn’t ask. I’ll find out when the lab boys get here.” He nodded to the rows of seats. “Wanna take the left quadrant?”

A search of the theatre turned up no more canisters, though Peggy lingered over a baby carriage that had rolled to rest against the stopper below the blank white expanse of the movie screen. “Jack, there were no children among the dead, were there?”

“No,” Jack said, strolling down the aisle to join her, with his hands shoved in his pockets. “Thank God. It was a romance picture. Mostly couples and old people.”

“So what is a baby carriage doing here?”

“Huh. Dunno. Think it’s important?”

“I don’t know.” Peggy had to stop herself from rubbing her temples, where a headache was coalescing. It had been a very long day. Days, rather … she’d been in the SSR lockup overnight. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept.

But there was no time for that now. They had Russian agents on the loose in the city with an extremely dangerous weapon, and Daniel hurt, or perhaps worse; she had to force herself not to wonder what was going on with him at the moment.

“We should canvass the area for witnesses,” she said. “Someone might have seen Dottie or Ivchenko leave the building.”

“They’ll be long gone.”

“I’m well aware of that, Agent Thompson, but they’re in this city right now, somewhere, no doubt planning another attack like this one. Or perhaps putting something into motion even now.”

“I know.” He sat down on the arm of one of the seats, shoulders slumping slightly; the bright, in-control mask he’d been wearing slipped, and in that instant she saw her own weariness reflected and, perhaps, redoubled.

It had indeed been a very long, difficult, miserable day. For all of them.

“But we’ll be no good to anyone if we burn ourselves out,” she said, leaning against the seat opposite. “The scene is contained. Let’s take an hour or so, get something to eat and perhaps a little rest.”

Jack looked up; his weary gaze had dropped to the stained carpet, but now there was a glimmer of his sly little-boy smile. “Let me guess. You’ll be at the hospital.”

“Someone should check on Agent Sousa,” she said tartly, not liking to admit that she had in fact been thinking of it.

“Didn’t mean anything by it, Marge.”

“Nor did I,” she sighed. “Yes, I think we could all use a break.”

“Hey, Peggy?”

She’d started to walk away, but turned back, surprised. He rarely used her name.

“Watch your back,” Jack said. “They’re out there, and they’re gunning for us.”

“You too.” She had a moment’s flash of memory – the way he’d run to Daniel’s side earlier, that unexpected flare of concern – and she added, “I’ll call the office when there’s news on Agent Sousa.”

He gave her a thin, acknowledging smile, and Peggy left the theatre for the cleaner, less cloying air outside. Perhaps she’d stop by the hospital first. Just for a few minutes.

Daniel would be all right. And if not, there’d be hell to pay.


fake movie memems. marvel : the initiative

On a routine mission following up on a distress beacon at the far end of the galaxy, beloved hero and friend, Ms. Marvel (Katee Sackhoff) suddenly vanishes without a trace. When S.H.I.E.L.D. wants nothing to do with the matter, a group of heroes close to Carol Danvers (Meghan Ory, Angie Harmon, Rachel Nichols, and Natalie Morales) forms a task force in order to retrieve their friend from whatever danger she may be in. Challenges await our heroines as they battle their way through quadrant after quadrant, searching for their friend, but what they find in the farthest reaches of space might actually surprise them..

starring: katee sackhoff (carol danvers/ms. marvel), meghan ory (jessica drew/spider-woman), rachel nichols (greer grant-nelson/tigra), angie harmon (jennifer walters/she-hulk), natalie morales (maria de guadalupe santiago/silverclaw)

[disclaimer: i found all of these pictures on google, so if i’m using something that’s yours and you’d like it removed, please feel free to message me. no harm was meant- they’re all beautiful pictures and representations. <3]

Quadrant Search!

Ok, this is ridiculous, and I doubt anyone will do it, but it might entertain you for a few seconds so why not. First Character you find is your Matesprit <3, second is your Moirail <>, the next two are the ones you auspistice for, the fifth character auspistices between you and the sixth character, and the seventh is your kismesis. <3< 

Yeah this is pretty much bullshit complicated. But whatever, enjoy!

Kirk: Who the hell are you?

John Harrison: A remnant of the time long past. Genetically engineered to be superior as so as to lead others to peace in a world at war. We were condemned as criminals; forced into exile. For centuries we slept, hoping when we awoke things would be different. But as a result of the destruction of Vulcan, your Starfleet began to aggressively search distant quadrants of space; my ship was found adrift, I, alone, was revived.”

Ewan McBae: King of Kings
A Classic Alice Fanfic
By microbrien

I woke up this morning with a headache. Holy sneakers did I have a lot to drink last night. I have to remember: for every two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew, one glass of water. You’d think I would remember by now. I should have had four-and-a-half glasses of water. I had none. I do have an excuse. But, you know. I don’t like to brag. And I won’t. ‘Cause I don’t have to.
Let’s just say… there were plenty of skill points to spread around… there were crafting recipes for legendary items all over the place… there were non-stop quests to turn in for unlimited experience… there were amazing amounts off—actually I’ve been away from MMORPG for a while and I’m having a hard time thinking of the appropriate way to phrase more of these references, so I’m just going to put it this way—Ewan McBay was power-leveling with every girl he laid eyes on last night, if you know what I mean.
You know what I mean.
You do.

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