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Title:  Getting Their Act Together (or four first times that weren't, and one that was)
Author:  shirleyann66
Artist:  maiel_alcinoe
Fandom:  Jericho
Characters/Pairings:  Major Edward Beck/Heather Lisinski
Rating/Category:  M to R to NC-17 depending on your tolerance level.
Genre: Is PWP a genre?
Word Count:  10,190
Warnings:  None.
Summary:  She was just a small-town girl from Kansas - and he had her thinking things she'd never even dreamed of before.

Link to fic master post:  Is Here
Link to art master post:  Is right through here - Go See!!

Beta'd by the lovely and talented seren_ccdwho always goes above and beyond. :D


Part One
Garage - Sight

Heather glanced up with a startled look when Beck knocked on her garage door, which was open despite the unseasonably cold early November day.

She smiled almost shyly as she straightened and grabbed a rag to wipe her hands. She tried to ignore the rapid beating of her heart and the way her breathing sped up at the sight of him.

"Hi," she said, her voice a bit too breathy, her eyes a little too wide, a feeling of delight at the unexpected sight of him evident on her face.

"Hi," he said, looking just as shy and awkward, leaning against the door jamb. His eyes were vulnerable, although his face was stoic.

"Do you have a minute?" he asked.

She nodded and he walked in, closing the door behind him. He walked almost cautiously towards her, and she raised an eyebrow at his serious expresson and the turmoil of emotion in his eyes.

"I need your help," he finally said, turning to face her from where he was examining her workbench.

"All right," she replied cautiously. Her eyes widened with question as she finished cleaning her hands then leaned up against her other workbench. She watched as Beck restlessly prowled her garage.

"I need to borrow a car. Or a truck." He shrugged. "Whatever's handy, actually, so long as it's non-descript and," he glanced with some amusement at the rundown truck Heather called Charlotte, "reliable."

"Charlotte is reliable," Heather said defensively. At his raised eyebrow she shrugged and added, "to a certain definition of 'reliable'."

He slowly smiled at her and chuckled.

She blinked and blushed lightly.

"So," she said when the silence stretched on a little too long, "you need non-descript, reliable transport. May I ask why?"

The smile vanished from his face.

"I understand if it's something I can't know about," she hastened to assure him. "I'm just - just trying to determine whether you need something that has power and speed."

Beck's smile widened. "You should always assume I need something with power and speed."

Heather wondered if the words were meant to be as suggestive as they sounded.

His smile faded as he continued, "I need to get to Cheyenne without the ASA realizing I'm coming. Unfortunately, I can't do that in an army humvee."

Heather paled, her eyes widening.

"No, you can't," she agreed faintly. "Why are you going to Cheyenne?"

Beck had an indecipherable look in his eyes as he steadily stared at her, but his face gave nothing away.

"All right, okay," she sighed. "It's need to know, and I don't need to know. When are you going?"

"As soon as you can find something for me."

She nodded again, crossing her arms and rubbing them briskly to guard against the sudden chill of fear and worry.

"You're not going alone, are you?" she blurted.

"Jake and Hawkins are coming with me."

Heather attempted a smile. "I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse."

Beck chuckled again and prowled towards her. He put his hands on her shoulders.

"Everything's going to be fine," he assured her softly. "We'll be back in no time. Especially if whatever you find for us is fast and reliable."

She nodded, biting her bottom lip.

"I won't let you down," she promised.

He stared at her, suddenly serious, his eyes warm and dark.

"I know you won't," he said softly. "You never have."

For a moment they stared at each, suspended, and Heather's mind suddenly raced with the knowledge that he was going into enemy territory and might never come back and if he never came back, she'd regret his loss to her dying day. She wondered what would happen if she only had the courage to do what her instincts were telling her to do...

Heather leaned up and Beck leaned down, and their mouths met.

Beck laced his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp as he explored her mouth, and she moaned slightly as she straightened, her arms going around his neck as she pressed against him. He sighed against her mouth, and then he was kissing her more deeply, and he was stroking his hands down her back, exploring the curves of her body.

Heather broke the kiss with a laugh when he lifted her up and set her on the workbench, sweeping the tools off its surface with a loud clatter. He grinned at her as he moved to stand between her legs before he captured her mouth again and all thought of laughing fled from her mind. She wrapped her legs around his hips, holding him closer against her as he rocked against her and she fumbled with his uniform shirt to open it. She slipped her hands beneath his t-shirt and spread her fingers across his skin with a moan of pleasure.

She felt his muscles flex beneath her fingers and she moaned again, wanting to feel and more importantly, see more of what she was feeling.

She moaned again as his hands slipped under her t-shirt, stroking upwards over her ribcage to push her bra aside and cup her breasts. He brushed his thumbs lightly across her aching nipples and she arched her back, giving him easier access, silently urging him to continue his exploration, which he did with a low guttural growl of pleasure.

He stepped back and lifted her t-shirt and bra over her head, then he stood and stared at her naked body, his eyes wide with wonder and desire and Heather shivered at the expression on his face and felt like she was the most beautiful woman in the world in his eyes.

He gently touched her with shaking hands before she pushed his shirt from his shoulders and helped him lift his own t-shirt over his head. Then it was her turn to stare at him, eyes tracing the muscles in his chest and his stomach before using her hands to retrace the path her eyes had followed.

He closed his eyes with a deep breath as she touched him then he opened his eyes and pulled her fully against him. The feel of their bodies, bare skin to bare skin, made them both sharply catch their breaths.

They kissed again, more wildly, and then Heather was scrabbling at Beck's belt buckle and waistband. He dropped his hands to help her, before he worked the button of her jeans free then helped her off the workbench so she could shimmy out of them.

He threw his army shirt on the workbench before lifting her up again, now completely naked and unembarrassed, and moved to position himself at the opening of her body, feeling her wet heat pressed against his hardness. They savored the anticipation for another moment before he pressed forward, slowly pushing his way inside of her, and they both gasped with pleasure at the feeling.

He paused to give her time to adjust, and then he started to move, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and rocked with him. He braced himself with one hand on the workbench and held her tightly against him with the other. His eyes, dark with passion and pleasure, were riveted on her face, watching every expression, every hint of what she was feeling, what she liked, what she wanted.

She quivered as her pleasure built, her legs tightening around his hips, her mind shorting out from sensory overload, too much pleasure in too many places. She wanted to keep her own eyes open, to watch him and burn these moments into her memory but she couldn't. Her eyes closed and she rested her forehead against the slick skin of his shoulder and gave herself over to the sensations and emotions of the moment.

She bit into his shoulder as she came, pulsing around him, which triggered his own orgasm and with a guttural half-cry, he shuddered against her, pressing hard against and inside her, before they both slowly relaxed, Heather's sweat-dampened forehead resting once more against his shoulder as she panted for breath and he gasped her name...

"Heather? Heather!"

She blinked and the mundane surroundings of her garage returned with almost stunning force. She refocused on a regrettably distant Beck who was even more regrettably fully dressed, and Heather silently heaved a hidden but no less wistful sigh as she stared almost guiltily at him.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his brows wrinkled in puzzled concern.

"I'm fine," she said, shaking off the last remnants of her fantasy. "I was just...thinking of who would have something that would - uh - meet your needs."

She hoped that didn't sound nearly as suggestive to him as it did to her. She also fervently hoped he couldn't guess at what she'd just imagined by looking in her eyes. Besides the fact that she would be extremely embarrassed by it, Beck was still a married man, even if his wife and daughter were missing, and had been since the Attacks two years before. She knew he was attracted to her, but it was mixed with guilt, and it was an unacknowledged fact between them that nothing could or would happen while he was bound by the promises he'd made to the missing woman.

Beck was nothing if not an honorable man.

Damn it.

Beck's concerned frown cleared and he smiled, his eyes warm.

"I'm sure you'll do fine," he assured her, his voice low and unconsciously seductive.

"I'll get something for you as soon as I can," she said, then she walked to him and shyly touched his hand. He started slightly, his gaze flicking to their hands before flying to meet hers, his expression startled and surprisingly vulnerable.

"Be careful," she said softly, and he nodded, wide-eyed, his gaze never wavering from her face.

She recognized that look; she saw it often. It was the look that told her he was seeing her - and he couldn't quite believe his eyes; he couldn't quite believe she was real. She always softened under that look, feeling warm and flushed and...wanted.

But there was still and always the spectre of his missing wife and child standing between them.

"I'll be careful," he promised her now, his voice husky.

She smiled tremulously for another moment of soft affection, then she blinked, and forced herself to become once again simply Heather, Beck's civilian liaison and friend.

Just a friend.

Her smile became teasing as she said, "Well, just remember - you, Jake and Hawkins are on the same side, okay? Please don't try to kill either of them - or let them try to kill you."

He raised his eyebrows and suddenly looked years younger as he slowly grinned.

"I'll do my best," he promised wryly, and squeezed her fingers.

Her hand tingled for an hour after he left.

 * * * * *

Part Two
Office - Smell

Three weeks after they left Jericho, Beck, Jake and Hawkins returned from Cheyenne. The first Heather knew of their return was when she opened the door before dawn to see Jake on her doorstep.

She blinked sleepily at him, shivering in the not-quite winter cold, her mind not yet awake enough to process who was standing there and what it could potentially mean. Then she recognized him and she straightened sharply, suddenly awake as a sharp, painful shaft of fear thrust through her.

She stepped aside to let Jake in, her breath hitching in her chest, her eyes wide and terrified, her hands shaking as she closed the door behind him. The blood drained from her face, and she swayed, wondering if she'd be able to withstand whatever it was Jake was about to tell her that brought him to her door at this ungodly hour of the day.

"He's all right," was the first thing Jake said.

Heather sagged with relief against the door.

"Thank God," she breathed, closing her eyes. Then her eyes snapped open and she looked sharply at him. "So what -?"

"Beck received word his wife and daughter had been captured and were being held in Cheyenne."

Heather gasped, one hand flying up to her lips.

"And?" she asked numbly.

Jake sadly shook his head. "The good news was they'd never been prisoners of the ASA."

"And the bad news?" Heather asked slowly.

"They died in Santa Fe, not long after the Attacks."

Heather closed her eyes against the tears that sprang to her eyes.

Jake looked at her with sad, concerned brown eyes.

He said, "Beck's...not taking it well. I wanted you to know before you see him today. Because he's...he's not himself right now."

Heather nodded, her lips pressed tight. She met Jake's dark, concerned eyes and forced a smile.

She cleared her throat and said, her voice husky, "Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it."

Jake nodded, then gave her a half-smile.

"Take care of him," he said. "We need him. And he needs you."

She blinked at him, her eyes wide and clear and very blue, and somehow still innocent after all she'd been through.

"He needs to mourn," she replied, shaking her head.

Jake's crooked smile widened as he moved past her to open the door and let himself out. "That too. But when he's finished mourning, he's going to look around - and he's already seen you."

Heather blushed hotly as the door closed behind Jake and cursed the fact that as always she wore her heart on her sleeve. Did everyone know about her feelings for Beck?

She shuffled into the kitchen and set some carefully rationed coffee to perk before she hastened to get dressed. She had a feeling she was going to be extremely grateful for the coffee before her day was through.


Heather understood why Jake came to warn her when she walked into Beck's officer's quarters an hour later, and the stench of scotch and sweat stung her nostrils. From the smell, he'd decided to literally jump into a bottle of scotch, she thought, as she struggled to gasp for air without being too obvious about it.

Not that he would notice, she thought ruefully, taking in the passed out man slumped at the desk, his head pillowed on his arms.

She sighed with sympathy and turned to the captain hovering behind her.

"Thanks for trusting me enough to let me in here," she said. "I'll take care of him. Let's make sure no one else finds him like this, okay?"

The captain nodded thankfully, and Heather knew the captain's loyalty to her commanding officer would keep the stories to speculation rather than fact. The captain backed out of Beck's quarters, leaving Beck to Heather's not-so-gentle care.


Three days later, Heather was in the sheriff's office, giving Beck her report like she hadn't helped him to his cot and stripped off his boots and shirt and belt. Like she hadn't cleaned up his quarters and left him water and aspirin for the inevitable hangover when he awoke. Like she hadn't left a pail conveniently beside his cot, along with a small stack of towels and half a bottle of mouthwash.

She'd watched over him for several hours, her heart aching for him, because even with a bottle of scotch in him, he slept restlessly, and Heather wondered what he saw behind his closed eyes that kept him from finding any peace.

She never said a word when they met late the next day, even though he looked like every sound and movement both pained and nauseated him.

Now she was giving him her report like nothing had happened at all.

She glanced up in the middle of her report on the latest from New Bern to find him watching her sheepishly. She stopped in mid-word, and waited for him to speak.

"I understand I owe you some thanks," he said quietly after a moment of silence.

She shrugged and said with a faint smile, "It was nothing. It's what friends do - but you're welcome."

He flushed slightly. "I - I'm sorry you had to, uh, see me like that." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, obviously embarrassed. "I don't do that very often. I can't even remember the last time I deliberately set out to get drunk. Least of all that drunk."

She smiled. "I've been working with you for over a year, Beck. I know you don't drink like that on a regular basis." Her smile faded. "I also know it was due to...special circumstances."

He nodded, and dropped his eyes to his hands, his face stark with grief, and Heather's heart broke.

She walked to him and tentatively put a hand on his shoulder.

He turned wide, startled eyes to her and she gave him a sympathetic smile.

"I'm sorry," she said softly and sincerely. "I wish -" she bit her lip, then said, "I wish you could have found them alive."

He gave her a half-smile, his eyes grateful, and covered her hand with his own.

"Thank you, Heather."

The memory of his eyes lingered for days afterwards.


During the next few weeks, Beck went through the motions of being a loyal ASA soldier and of, well, simply living. At least, that's what it seemed like to Heather's eyes.

He smiled even less than he had before, and it seemed like Heather could almost see the flesh melt from his bones. His face became gaunt, his cheekbones sharp beneath his skin. Dark circles appeared under his eyes and grew darker with each passing day.

And everyone knew that all out war was coming - and soon. Beck was as conscientious about his duties as a soldier and a commanding officer, but Heather was slowly beginning to fear he would go to war - and make sure he never came back.

Heather's heart broke when war finally erupted, and Beck left without saying good-bye.


The Second Civil War ended with a bang - almost as big as the one that had destroyed the old United States of America.

Three months later - and three more bombs - there were no longer any fledgling governments, corrupt or otherwise. The communications network went down again and the town of Jericho plunged back into darkness and silence.

Only this time, they held no hope for rescue at all.


Heather once more opened the door before dawn to find a gaunt and exhausted Jake Green standing on her doorstep.

Only this time it was early spring, and before he even crossed her threshold, Jake said, "He's all right. And he's here."

Heather stared at him, her eyes huge in white face, unable to think of anything to say as he stood inside her house's small foyer.

Jake grinned his crooked grin as he reached out and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. He said, "I hope you give him holy hell for leaving you the way he did."

She nodded, still wordless and watched numbly as Jake turned and walked down her front steps without his usual energy and with a new limp.

Heather slowly closed the door, leaned against it, and silently let her tears slip down her cheeks.


Unfortunately for Beck, Heather had no intention of keeping her mouth shut later that morning.

She saw him sitting at his old desk in the sheriff's office when she walked in, and she stopped cold in her tracks, oblivious to the hustle and bustle of the newly returned soldiers around her. She stared hungrily at what she could see of his face, her eyes tracing every line and curve. Then her eyes narrowed, her lips tightened and she strode purposefully into his office.

He didn't even glance up when she stormed through the door and stood in front of his desk, her hands planted firmly on her hips. He kept his grim gaze focused on the paper in his hand.

"Really?" she demanded. "You're going to pretend I'm not here?"

He didn't look up but his lips twitched.

"At least until you calm down," he agreed. "I'm not stupid."

"That last point's debatable! And you'll be holding that paper for quite awhile because I have lots to say!"

Beck slid a sideways glance at her then his face softened. He lifted his head and squarely met her eyes as he tossed the paper down on the desk and leaned back in his chair.

"There's no way I'm going to be able to stop you from having your say, is there?" he asked ruefully.

"You left without saying good-bye!" Heather sputtered. "What do you think?"

Sadness flickered across his face.

"I didn't have time to say good-bye, Heather," he said softly. "We had to deploy in less than an hour and you were out at the Richmond farm. Didn't you get my note?"

Heather frowned. "Note? You mean that little two-line thing telling me to be careful?"

Beck's lips twitched. "That's the one."

She deflated slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, I got it." Then she fixed him with another hard-eyed glare. "It's still not the same!"

"I know."

Heather gritted her teeth. He was maddeningly calm and she hated it.

"I was worried sick about you!" she cried.

He tilted his head as he watched her.

"I know," he said quietly. "Would it help if I told you I was sorry? For leaving without saying good-bye and for not being able to send you any messages while I was gone?"

Heather deflated again. She dropped her eyes to his desk and sighed. She knew there'd been big reasons for his hasty departure and even bigger reasons for his silence. But just for once, Heather wanted to focus on the personal...and like always, she understood that in the greater scheme of things, the personal didn't - couldn't - matter.

She sighed, her hands dropping from her hips to hang by her sides.

"I know you couldn't send messages," she said. "Emily was in the same boat with Jake -"

She suddenly realized what she was implying and her wide eyes flew to his as she blushed and stammered, "I - I don't mean the same boat! A similar boat! You know - someone gone and unable to get word to or from them."

Beck smiled slowly, his eyes warm with amusement and genuine affection.

She snapped her mouth shut and stared back at him, desperately ignoring her hot face.

"I know what you meant," he soothed. "I...missed you, you know," he added almost bashfully, his eyes dropping again to his hands.

She looked at him - truly looked at him - for the first time since she'd walked into his office.

He'd lost even more weight, and there were new lines in his face and more gray in his hair. She saw a new scar almost hidden by his hairline and she wondered if she'd ever hear the story behind it. The dark circles under his eyes weren't as pronounced although he looked even more exhausted and heart-sick since the last time she'd seen him. She slowly cocked her head to one side, wondering what else was different, and then she saw it.

He was sad, yes, and she could see he was weighed down with regrets and dark memories and even darker actions. But the raw, very personal, very private pain he'd carried for the months before he left Jericho, clear on his face whenever he thought or spoke about his wife and daughter, was gone.

Or simply well-hidden.

"What?" he asked softly and she realized he was once more looking at her, and it was his familiar, fascinated way of looking at her, and she felt something relax in her that she hadn't even fully realized had been tensely holding itself ready.

"You look tired," she replied and now there was no anger, only concern for him, and relief that he was back.

He nodded and leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk in front of him. "I am tired."

His eyes darkened as he looked at her and added, "But I'm glad to be back in Jericho - and I'm very glad to see you again, too."

She was suddenly falling into his eyes and everything around them faded away...

She quickly moved to where he was sitting and stood between his legs. She gently cupped his face, relishing the rasp of his dark stubble against her calloused fingers and palms. He reverently closed his eyes at the first touch of her hands, then opened them again as she lifted his face and pressed her mouth to his.

Her kiss was slow and sweet and comforting at first, a welcome home, a promise, an expression of her fear, anger and relief. Then he began to kiss her back, one hand cupping the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair, and the kiss quickly changed from sweet and comforting to something hard and dark and hungry, but no less - there was no use denying it any longer - no less loving simply because it was hard and dark and hungry.

Slow was no longer an option; neither was stopping and moving this to a more comfortable location. Beck pulled her closer and she quickly repositioned herself until she could lower herself onto his lap, straddling him, and she returned her mouth to his.

They finally broke the kiss, breathing raggedly, and with a half-smile, Heather leaned back to quickly undo his uniform shirt and lay her hands flat on his chest, which was still covered by his t-shirt. She sighed with satisfaction as she tugged his t-shirt up and slid her hands beneath it and around to his back. She leaned closer, pressing her forehead against his, and closed her eyes as she explored his smooth skin. She breathed deeply, and he smelled of soap and shampoo and the scent that was uniquely his own, and she realized just how desperately she'd missed his scent.

She straightened and opened her eyes to see he was watching her with a look that was a mix of arousal and relief and pain, and she kissed him again as he slipped his hands beneath the edge of her t-shirt and explored the curve of her back, and the skin just beneath the waistband of her jeans. With a hungry groan, she stood. His eyes burned as he watched her shimmy out of her jeans and panties and he never took his eyes from her as he freed himself from his pants. She carefully lowered herself onto him, slowly taking him into her body. They paused, savoring the feeling, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, holding her close while she buried her face into his shoulder and breathed in their mingled scents.

She began to move, using her internal muscles to flex around him, trying to be completely in the moment, trying to think only of the fact that he was here and safe and inside of her after all this time, and she wanted to remember this with clarity for the rest of her life. They strained together, and he buried his face into her shoulder as he tightened his grip on her.

Their breath came in quick pants, their movements quickening, and the scent of their sex filled her nostrils and the office. She reached her peak just before Beck thrust into her one last time, shuddering then slowly relaxing beneath her. He rested his head against the back of his chair, and cuddled her close. She rested her sweaty forehead against his neck, closed her eyes, and tried to catch her breath...

Heather blinked, and she was suddenly back in the real world. The sounds of the soldiers in the outer office penetrated her consciousness once more, although Beck's attention was still focused on her. She took a deep breath and the phantom scent of their imagined sex teased her nostrils before fading away.

It was time to plant her feet firmly back on the ground, she told herself sternly. He was back, yes - but their world had changed for the worse and the future was even more uncertain than before he'd left.

"Are you home to stay?" she blurted.

His expression softened even as his eyes seemed to burn even more.

"I'm -" he hesitated, almost like he was testing the word before he said it, "home to stay."

She slowly smiled at him, one of her old smiles, the one that lit up her entire face.

She moved behind the desk and gestured at him to stand up. When he did, she enveloped him in a tight hug, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, her eyes closed.

He hesitated for a brief moment, then his arms closed around her as he hugged her close, his nose buried in her hair.

"Your hair smells good," he murmured as they stood together.

"So do you," she sighed.

They slowly parted as the noise in the outer office rose, and they both turned with curious frowns to look out the windows of Beck's office.

Beck's gaze became sharp and assessing as he saw the three bloodied men who had staggered into the sheriff's office and were now leaning up against the counter, excitedly telling their story to the two soldiers behind it.

Beck glanced ruefully at Heather.

"I have to go," he said.

"I know," she said, and followed him out of his office.

She felt his arms around her for hours after she'd left.



Latest Month

January 2015


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


"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little --"


"So we can believe the big ones?"


-- 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
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