?

Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Title: For God and Country and Heather Lisinski
Characters: Beck, Heather, OCs
Rating: PG-13? Mature? For strong language and adult subject matter.
Chapters: 5/??
Disclaimer: No, still don't own Jericho...I'm just playing with the characters. I'll return them safe and sound...although they may be a bit traumatized...or extremely happy.  Depends on your point of view, I guess.

A/N 1: Here is chapter 5. There will now be a (hopefully) brief hiatus while I get the next section of the story finished.

A/N 2: Because I haven't said it for awhile - I'm really looking forward to the next installments of all the other stories (hint, hint :) ).


--------------------------------------------------------

When Heather awoke, she blinked, disoriented by both her surroundings and by the feel of a body pressed close to hers. As she stared around the storm cellar, the events of the previous day flooded over her, and she sighed, rubbing her face. Beck was spooned up against her, one arm flung across her waist, holding her snugly against him. She wondered what the time was, and how long they would have to wait before they were rescued.

Heather reluctantly slid out of bed, leaving Beck a warm, solid presence behind her. She paused, and looked at him, admiring the length of his lashes as they lay against his cheeks. He looked much younger with his face relaxed in sleep, his hair tousled, his cheeks dark with stubble. She fought the urge to reach out and stroke his face, to experience the roughness of his beard beneath her fingers. She sighed soundlessly and forced herself to turn away.

She bit back a cry of pain as her muscles, stiff and sore from all that had happened the day before, protested while she walked to the table and picked up the electric lantern. She turned it on and took it to the small room below the stairs where Old Mrs. Francis had placed the honey pot. When she opened the door, she saw Beck was up and dressed in his jeans.

She washed her hands with the bottle of water they had used the day before, using the tiny sliver of soap that Beck had found, and opened a couple of cans of food while Beck used the bathroom.

"You're limping," she observed when he came back and was washing his hands.

"It was a hard day," he said drily, and gave her a small smile.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. She took a closer look at him. "You're bruised," she said.

Beck nodded. "I know it. Between tackling you to the ground and falling down the stairs," he shrugged, and winced.

Heather gave him a guilty look. They sat at the table and ate in silence for a few minutes.

"How long -"

"They'll be here today," Beck said, his voice reassuring. "My men knew where I was going. How long it takes will depend on what's actually blocking the doors."

Heather nodded. "Okay," she said.

"Heather," Beck said after a moment, his voice carefully neutral, "do you have a history of sleepwalking?"

Heather stared at him, her eyes wide and appalled. "Not exactly sleepwalking," she replied. "I never actually left my bed. But I would apparently hold entire conversations with people while asleep. I didn't remember anything, but people would tell me about it later."

Beck nodded. "I wondered."

"Why? Did we have a conversation last night?"

"Yes," Beck said simply, his eyes never wavering from hers. "You were having a nightmare, and I tried to wake you. You never did wake up, but you spoke to me as if you were awake."

Heather stared at him, horrified. "What did I say?"

He shrugged and glanced away. "Nothing that made any real sense. It probably fit what you were dreaming about, but made no sense to me."

"Oh." Heather said, relieved. On the few nights that she hadn't had a nightmare, Beck had been playing a starring role. She would hate to jeopardize her relationship with him when any possibility of him returning her feelings was non-existent.

They finished their makeshift breakfast, and then looked around the storm cellar and at each other.

Beck said, "I would like to try something. Keep your hand on that electric lantern. I want to see how dark it is during the day. We should conserve the light sources until we know how long it's going to take to get us out of here."

Heather agreed, and Beck blew out the lantern that had been burning all night. It seemed pitch black once the lantern was out, but after several minutes, she could see dim shapes.

"Too dark," Heather said.

"Yes," Beck sighed. "You can turn on the electric lantern again."

Beck looked thoughtfully around the storm cellar. "We were a bit...distracted last night to really look at these shelves. How many supplies - "

"There are extra batteries, extra fuel for the gas lanterns, along with extra matches. There's a whole section of home-made bottled water - Old Mrs. Francis boiled tap water and re-used plastic bottles she had in the house when the Attacks occurred. There are extra ten gallon pails to use as honey pots, and a couple rolls of toilet paper. I'm amazed she has any left."

Beck quirked an eyebrow at her. "I guess you did have time to observe all that last night."

Heather shook her head. "Old Mrs. Francis gave me a tour about a month ago, when I was out here discussing her barn. She told me she and Mr. Francis had been trapped in a storm cellar for days after a tornado destroyed their home. They had no food, very little water, a kerosene lantern, and one book of matches. They were in pretty bad shape when they got pulled out. She said, after that, they stocked their storm cellars so they could survive a siege, if necessary. The only time it wasn't fully stocked was after that first winter, when nobody had any food."

Beck watched her solemnly as she spoke, giving her that all-seeing gaze that made her nervous, wondering what he was thinking and what he was going to say.

"You were really good at your job," Beck said slowly. "I never wanted you to leave."

"Thank you," she said, after a surprised silence. "But Gray had a point. Once you reported to him, he had Anita as town manager, and the information she provides is similar to what I provided. You didn't need two of us."

"What Anita does for me is nothing like what you do. She wouldn't have known why Old Mrs. Francis keeps a well-stocked storm cellar."

"Sure she would."

"No - because Anita wouldn't have been out here listening to a lonely old lady tell stories. She would have been out here to deal with the barn and nothing else."

Heather blinked at him, at a loss for words.

Beck gave her a small smile, his eyes warm, and Heather could feel herself start to blush.

"What does Old Mrs. Francis need done to her barn?" Beck asked briskly, looking down at his makeshift breakfast.

"It's pretty extensively damaged after the heavy snows this last winter, and needs to be repaired. The damage is so bad, I would almost recommend tearing it down, but I'm not sure we could find any materials to rebuild it. I was thinking about a sod barn for her, but I don't know if that's possible. I'm wondering if we can just tear it down, and re-use what we can elsewhere in Jericho. She doesn't really seem to need it because she doesn't have livestock. But her late husband built it, so..." She shrugged.

Beck began to question her for more details about the barn, giving suggestions, and alternatives. And then the discussion turned to his work, and the future. "We need to forge new alliances," he said thoughtfully. "I've been working with Ron Love in Rogue River, and she's beginning to trust me. New Bern is a lost cause, though, I think. There's so much bad blood between us now, it'll take years before we can work together from a level of trust."

"Well, the longer Constantino is around, the worse it will be," Heather said, her voice carefully neutral.

Beck gave her a sharp, piercing look, and then his eyes narrowed in comprehension and anger. "You want to get captured by Constantino." he said accusingly.

She flushed, but lifted her chin defiantly and glared back. "You were using me as bait," she snapped.

"To capture his men - not the other way around!"

"And do what with those men?" Heather demanded. "Send them back to him in body bags?"

"If necessary," Beck said grimly.

"That would be murder, and those men are just following orders."

"Like the deputies were?"

Heather jerked as if she had been slapped, but Beck did not back down.

"No," he said, his voice calmer, "we wouldn't murder them. But I had hoped to use them to bargain with him."

"Constantino won't bargain," she said.

"Maybe - maybe not. What was your plan?"

She gazed at him, silent.

Beck stared at her, his face grim. "What?" he asked, his voice deadly flat. "Were you planning on killing Constantino yourself?"

"I asked Hawkins for help, and he's training me -"

"I don't want to hear it!" Beck snapped, violently shoving himself away from the table. "They would have killed you!"

"There are things worse than death," Heather said, as calmly as she could in the face of his rage.

"You're not some kind of, of assassin," Beck snarled. "What was Hawkins thinking?"

"He agrees with you - but he wanted me to be prepared, in case I was captured. And I'm also not stupid. If Constantino gets me, it'll be too late by the time anyone notices I'm gone. I need to have a plan, and I need to protect myself. I'm sorry if that upsets you, but it's not your decision to make. If I have to kill Constantino to protect myself, to protect Jericho, to protect -"

"Don't!" Beck shouted, his control on his temper snapping. "Don't talk as if you were capable of cold-blooded murder!" He stalked away from her, and stood, breathing heavily.

Heather walked after him. "Cold-blooded?" she asked, incredulous. "Killing Constantino would be like killing a snake."

Beck turned on her, grabbing her by the shoulders and giving her a small shake. "Don't ever talk like that, Heather! Not you!"

"Why are you so angry?"

"Because you're young and innocent; you're hopeful for the future in spite of the past. You're life - and to think of you - " Beck stopped, closing his eyes, his hands painfully tight on her shoulders. "To think of you in that situation, having to do that, and probably being killed yourself as a result -" He opened his eyes, and they were blazing with anger, and fear, and something Heather couldn't quite identify. "It's...sacrilege." he whispered.

She stared at him with wide eyes, her hands on the hard muscles of his forearms.

"I'm not some...some symbol, Beck," she snapped. "I'm not some flag you rally around. You don't do things for God, and country and Heather Lisinski," and she raised her chin and challenged him with her stare.

Beck muttered something she couldn't quite hear, cupped her face and crushed her lips with his. She stood in shocked amazement for a moment, and then his tongue demanded entrance to her mouth, and she was lost.

Heather had never been kissed the way Beck was kissing her. There was nothing remotely gentle or sweet or romantic about it. It was pure carnal hunger and sensuality, and she had no defense against him. She answered his passion with her own, moaning softly as she stroked her hands up his arms to his shoulders, where she gripped him tightly, feeling the sleek, defined muscles beneath her fingers.

Beck broke the kiss, lifting his head enough to look in her eyes, his breathing rapid. She opened dazed blue eyes and stared at him, her lips parted, red and moist. What he saw must have pleased him, because he sighed, and kissed her again, lowering his hands to her hips, pulling her tightly against him. She stood on tiptoe, as close to him as she could get, but trying to get closer. She moaned in the back of her throat and the kiss became even more frantic at the sound. Beck's hands tightened on her hips, pulling her more fully against him. She could feel him through his jeans, hard and straining, and she gasped with pleasure. She found herself frantically stroking his back, her fingernails biting into him as she pressed her aching breasts against his bare chest, the thin layer of her bra and tank top an almost intolerable barrier. Beck's hands burrowed beneath her tank top, stroking her back and dipping below the waistband of her shorts.

She was dimly aware that they were moving, but it wasn't until Beck broke the kiss to pull her tank top and bra off her in one smooth motion that she realized they were now beside the cot.

Beck stared at her naked breasts, his eyes dark and burning, his face stark with passion. He reached out and cupped her breasts in his palms, his thumbs teasing her taut nipples. The sight of his tanned hands in contrast with her pale breasts; the feel of his callouses, rough against her sensitive skin, and the sound of their rapid breathing sent lightning flashes through her body, and she shook with need, tightening her grip on him to keep herself from falling down.

Then his lips closed around one nipple, and she gave a soft, gasping cry as she arched against him, her eyes closed, her fingers buried in his dark hair.

"Major Beck! Heather!"

They froze at the shout from outside the storm cellar. Beck slowly lifted his mouth from Heather's breast to blink at her, disoriented.

"Major Beck! Heather! Are you in there?"

Beck slowly dropped his hands, and stepped away from Heather. He looked around, and then picked up her bra and tank top and handed them to her.

"Yes!" he yelled towards the stairs. "Can you hear me?"

Heather put on her clothes with trembling hands, trying to get her breathing under control.

"Yes! It's Commander Clark. Are you both all right? Do you need medical assistance?"

Heather was dressed again, and they climbed the stairs to the doors.

"We're both all right," he said. "No medical assistance required."

"That's a relief. Sir, Jericho was hit hard by the storm last night."

"Casualties?" Beck asked, his face grim.

"No deaths so far, sir, but at least ten injured. The storm hit early enough that everyone made it to shelter. However, there are people still trapped by fallen debris and who need medical assistance."

"How long before you get us out of here?"

"About half an hour, sir, maybe less."

"All right." They could hear the sounds of debris being lifted and moved even as they spoke.

Heather and Beck returned down the stairs by mutual, unspoken consent. Heather stood in awkward silence, looking anywhere but directly at Beck. She was no coward, but she couldn't read Beck's expression, and had no idea how she was supposed to act towards him at this moment. To make things worse, the few glances she sent his way showed her that, even half-naked, he was Major Beck again, his face stoic and his manner reserved. He didn't look or act as though he had been making love to her just a few minutes ago.

He wasn't looking at her either, instead staring steadily at the wall opposite him, frowning. "Heather," he began, and finally looked at her, his eyes remorseful. "I'm sorry - "

Heather's heart clenched. She couldn't bear to hear him apologize to her. She began to babble. "It's okay, no need to say anything, we don't ever need to refer to this again. What do you think we'll find when we get out of here? I wonder what was blocking the door, and if Old Mrs. Francis will need to have her house repaired. And how badly do you think Jericho is damaged and who's hurt? It'll depend on where the tornado touched down, of course, but you may need to make a special run to the trading posts." She kept talking, studiously not looking at Beck, and speaking as rapidly as possible so he couldn't get a word in edgewise.

She could feel the humiliation building. He was sorry, she thought in agony. This was even worse than when Jake ignored her for a month after she kissed him.

And she kept talking. "We'll have to figure out how to rebuild, and still get the crops planted. Not sure how we'll find supplies and materials - with Constantino a constant threat, going farther afield is dangerous, because who would guard Jericho if a large force goes out looking for supplies?"

Beck finally put his hand over her mouth. "Shush," he ordered. She made a half-hearted effort to escape him, but he held her gently in place. "Now, let me speak," he commanded. He held her gaze until her eyes dropped, and she nodded meekly. Beck would have his say, Heather thought, and if he didn't have it now, he would just have it later.

Beck dropped his hands. "When we get out of here, things are going to be insanely busy. I may not see you to speak to you about anything other than rebuilding Jericho and all those other factors you've mentioned. That doesn't mean - shit," he exclaimed softly as the doors were flung open and sunlight streamed into the storm cellar. Two faces peered down at them, grinning.

"Let's get you out of here," Clark said, grinning.

"If there were medals for bad timing," Beck muttered, then let Heather precede him up the stairs while he turned off the lantern.

Heather and Beck came out, blinking, into the sunlight, and took a look around. Heather gasped when she turned and saw that the house was nothing but a pile of debris.

"Sir," one of the soldiers said, "you'll want to look at this."

Beck followed the soldier to a spot a little ways from the storm cellar. He looked down where the soldier pointed, and then frowned. He crouched down, taking a closer look, and then looked over his shoulder at Heather, who was watching them curiously.

Beck rose and walked over to her. "There's a dead man," he said without preamble.

Heather's hand flew to her mouth. "My God!" she breathed. "Who - ?"

"It's one of Constantino's men."

Now she gaped at him, her eyes wide. "What? How - "

"I don't know," Beck said grimly, "but I'm going to find out."

"There was no one when we were running to the shelter!" Heather said. "Even half-blinded, we would have noticed somebody!"

"We'll figure it out," Beck assured her. "But there's nothing we can do for him right now, and there are people who are still alive and who need us. We can't transport him back to Jericho right now, so I'll send somebody else out to get him later."

Heather nodded. The priority right now was for the living; they would take care of the dead later.

The devastation in Jericho was restricted to the west side of town. The rest of the town was mercifully left relatively untouched, including the medi-centre, Bailey's, and the sheriff's office. They headed to the sheriff's office first where Beck immediately began getting status reports from his men. As he listened, he pulled the blinds in his office, and when he emerged, he was in full uniform and was once again the cool, aloof Major Beck with a job to do.

Heather, too, had been receiving a briefing. Although she was no longer Beck's liaison, the men still treated her as if she were. She was in the process of getting information regarding the location and status of the rescue operations when Beck left the sheriff's office, surrounded by his men, and without more than a passing glance.

Heather sighed inwardly, still feeling the burn of humiliation at Beck's apology. With an inward shake of her head, she refocused on the men she was listening to. There were more important matters than her non-existent love life.

She joined the search and rescue operations, and she worked alongside the rescue teams long into the night.

Comments

( 10 comments — Leave a comment )
inanna7
Nov. 6th, 2008 01:48 pm (UTC)
Well, I'm thinking anything that's more than a hint of foreplay involved would probably get an R or even a mature if you wanted to play it really safe. Of course, I have issues with the fact that people usually want to give a higher rating to sexual situations as opposed to violence, but I digress. I think R would be okay for this. I would also either community lock or friends lock the post. That way there won't be complaints that just anyone can view this. Granted I haven't had a lot of luck doing this with direct links, but people who belong to this community should still be able to access it under the friends link if worst comes to worst.

Speaking of the situation, I don't think I see a bed in their future. A wall, table, desk, or maybe just the floor, yes, because I don't think these two are quite going to make it to a bed.

That doesn't mean - shit," Even though he's cursing because they were interrupted, I think that describes how he feels pretty succinctly.

"It's one of Constantino's men." Who apparently not only wants to get the bounty, but also wants to get himself nominated for the Darwin awards for being out and about during the middle of a tornado-spawning storm. Getting the impression Constantino's not picking his men from high up in the food chain there.

Although she was no longer Beck's liaison, the men still treated her as if she were. Old habits die hard.

Heather sighed inwardly, still feeling the burn of humiliation at Beck's apology Boy, she's really looking at him from the wrong end of a telescope, isn't she? Hopefully he'll be able to turn that around for her some time soon.
shirleyann66
Nov. 6th, 2008 02:55 pm (UTC)
Well, I'm thinking anything that's more than a hint of foreplay involved would probably get an R or even a mature if you wanted to play it really safe.

R rating - that was the one I couldn't remember!

Of course, I have issues with the fact that people usually want to give a higher rating to sexual situations as opposed to violence, but I digress.

Oooh, don't even get me started - I'm with you 100%. My problem with rating the stories is that I have a really high tolerance for things, particularly sexual situations between consenting adults. And especially when the adults are in love with each other, even if they haven't admitted it yet. ;) I know others get offended, but I'm never really sure why. And now I digress. :)

I would also either community lock or friends lock the post.

I'll have to experiment with that...

Speaking of the situation, I don't think I see a bed in their future. A wall, table, desk, or maybe just the floor, yes, because I don't think these two are quite going to make it to a bed.

LOL - okay, have you been reading my smut stories over my shoulder?? I haven't gotten them on a table yet - but it was a thought in each of their heads in one of my stories. ;)

Getting the impression Constantino's not picking his men from high up in the food chain there.

Although to be fair, what choice does he have? Except for Russell (and Heather, of course), most of the denizens of New Bern don't seem to be smarter than your average bear...

Boy, she's really looking at him from the wrong end of a telescope, isn't she? Hopefully he'll be able to turn that around for her some time soon.

Minor spoiler - it's gonna get worse before it gets better... ;)

shirleyann66
Nov. 6th, 2008 03:00 pm (UTC)
Boy, she's really looking at him from the wrong end of a telescope, isn't she?

Whoops - also meant to say that she's had a tough couple of days...she's not exactly thinking like her normal, logical self. Poor girl. ;)
janiekins
Nov. 7th, 2008 02:49 pm (UTC)
"boy she's really looking at him from the wrong end of a telescope, isn't she?"

silly girl! doesn't she know that items will are larger than they appear, this way? (G)


Thank you for the quick update! :)

rubberbisquit
Nov. 6th, 2008 11:21 pm (UTC)
Because I haven't said it for awhile - I'm really looking forward to the next installments of all the other stories (hint, hint :) )

I'm working on my NaNoWriMo. BUT, I should have a couple more chapters ready to go before the weekend, hopefully.

She paused, and looked at him, admiring the length of his lashes as they lay against his cheeks. He looked much younger with his face relaxed in sleep, his hair tousled, his cheeks dark with stubble.

Awwwwww. You keep doing this to me and it keeps being adorable.

We should conserve the light sources

I can think of a great way to conserve light sources. Activities that don't require light! Just investigative fingers.

"I asked Hawkins for help, and he's training me -"

And then an image of Heather shooting CD's popped in to my head for no reason.

"I'm not some...some symbol, Beck," she snapped. "I'm not some flag you rally around. You don't do things for God, and country and Heather Lisinski," and she raised her chin and challenged him with her stare.

Perfection!

here was nothing remotely gentle or sweet or romantic about it. It was pure carnal hunger and sensuality, and she had no defense against him.

Oh. I guess they figured out the saving fuel thing themselves. I have to admit, this was hot. All of it. The last half of this story made me blush, honestly.

"Major Beck! Heather!"

Son of a-

he pulled the blinds in his office, and when he emerged, he was in full uniform and was once again the cool, aloof Major Beck with a job to do.

:(

What a fantastic new chapter. I approve wholeheartedly. And now . . . we get to see what happens the next time those two are alone again. *big fuck off grin*
shirleyann66
Nov. 7th, 2008 02:25 am (UTC)
I'm working on my NaNoWriMo.

Oooh - cool! Good luck on that. I seriously considered it this year, but this story was demanding I finish it, so...maybe next year.

Perfection!

Thank you!! :)

I have to admit, this was hot. All of it. The last half of this story made me blush, honestly.

Phew - and thank you! My first posted love scene (well, with details) - sniffle - I'm so glad you liked it! And that you found it hot; I hoped you blushed in a good way. ;)

I'm working on the next quarter of the story. It's gone off the rails a bit, but I think I have it back on track again...in my head. Now I just have to edit and write the stuff. :)

Good luck on NaNoWriMo, and I look forward to new chapters in your story.
janiekins
Nov. 7th, 2008 02:51 pm (UTC)
this is very hot :)

(made my eyeballs fog over.. and it was first caused by the description of him sleeping... forget the rest... beyond hot)


shirleyann66
Nov. 8th, 2008 02:48 pm (UTC)
made my eyeballs fog over

LOL - Awesome!! I hope you didn't have to operate heavy equipment shortly after reading this. ;-D
rubberbisquit
Nov. 7th, 2008 05:42 pm (UTC)
Oooh - cool! Good luck on that. I seriously considered it this year, but this story was demanding I finish it, so...maybe next year.

Yeah, i think I may have gotten in over my head with everything I'm doing at the moment, but I figured out that all I need is 14 hours straight of typing and I'll reach the 50k mark. I'm about half done. It helps that I don't do a whole lot at work, lol.

Phew - and thank you! My first posted love scene (well, with details) - sniffle - I'm so glad you liked it! And that you found it hot; I hoped you blushed in a good way. ;)

It was fantastic. Really really fantastic. I've read romance novels that have less spark than that, and they're best sellers. So, you're certainly on the right path!
shirleyann66
Nov. 8th, 2008 02:53 pm (UTC)
It helps that I don't do a whole lot at work, lol.

That IS helpful - LOL - I've got so many plot bunnies in my head that work is just getting in the way. I wonder if there's a leave especially designed for people to catch plot bunnies on a full time basis?? hmmmm...

So, you're certainly on the right path!

Thank you! :) I hope the rest of it will be just as enjoyable for you.
( 10 comments — Leave a comment )

Profile

shirleyann66
shirleyann66

Latest Month

January 2015
S M T W T F S
    123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031

Quotes

"All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need...fantasies to make life bearable."

REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.

"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little --"

YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.

"So we can believe the big ones?"

YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.

-- Susan and Death in Hogfather by Terry Pratchett

---------------------

"And no practical definition of freedom would be complete without the freedom to take the consequences. Indeed, it is the freedom upon which all the others are based."

-- Lord Vetinari in Going Postal by Terry Pratchett

---------------------

They thought the Library was a dangerous place because of all the magical books, which was true enough, but what made it really one of the most dangerous places there could ever be was the simple fact that it was a library.

-- Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett

---------------------

As a wizard, it was something that Ponder had only before encountered in acorns: a tiny soundless voice which said, yes, I am but a small, green, simple object - but I dream about forests.

-- Interesting Times by Terry Pratchett

---------------------

In the 24th century, there will be no hunger. There will be no greed. And every child will know how to read.

-- Gene Roddenberry, as repeated by Jonathan Frakes in the documentary How William Shatner Changed the World

---------------------

We've got two lives, one we're given and the other one we make
And the world won't stop, and actions speak louder
Listen to your heart, and what your heart might say
Everything we got, we got the hard way.

-- Mary Chapin Carpenter, The Hard Way from the album Come On, Come On

---------------------

Cause when they own the information, oh
They can bend it all they want.

-- John Mayer, Waiting on the World to Change from the album Continuum

---------------------

Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, "I'll try again tomorrow."

-- Mary Anne Radmacher, as seen in Uncle John's Bathroom Reader Tales to Inspire

---------------------

I never loved the soldier
Until there was a war.
Or thought about tomorrow
'til my baby hit the floor.
I only talk to God
When somebody's about to die.
I never cherished freedom
Freedom never cries.

-- Five for Fighting, Freedom Never Cries from the album Two Lights

---------------------

It may sound absurd: but don't be naive
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed: but won't you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream

-- Five for Fighting, Superman (It's Not Easy) from the album American Town

---------------------

Had a dream last night took a time travellin' ride
Back to my childhood where those monsters reside
They snack on innocence and dine on self-esteem
But I like to be in touch with what makes me scream
Vampires, mummies and the Holy Ghost
These are the things that terrify me the most.
No alien, psychopath or MTV host
Scares me like vampires,mummies and the Holy Ghost.

-- Jimmy Buffett, Vampires, Mummies and the Holy Ghost from the album Fruitcakes

---------------------

"I want to believe that... the dead are not lost to us. That they speak to us... as part of something greater than us - greater than any alien force. And if you and I are powerless now, I want to believe that if we listen, to what's speaking, it can give us the power to save ourselves."

-- Fox Mulder, The X-Files from the episode The Truth, pt. 2
Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Lilia Ahner