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Fandom Swapping
So, probably the most major thing that happened to me in 2013, concerning TV shows and fanfic, etc, is the fact that I was convinced to watch a new show (okay multiple new shows), but I've become enmeshed in a brand new fandom.  Those who know me already know what the fandom is, and to save you the eye rolling, let's just say it involves teens.  And werewolves.  And airs on MTV.

I'm in love with Teen Wolf.

And I'm not ashamed!

However, if you're a hater, you could use some education.  So get on that.  Marathon the first 2.5 seasons before Jan 6, because I guarantee, once you do, you'll want to watch the second half of S3.  Here's the 2 minute promo, in case you doubt me.

Everyone's swapped fandoms before.  Rookie Blue wasn't my first (although it was undoubtedly the fandom I was most active in), and it wasn't the first I wrote fic for, and it appears that it won't be the last.

So my question is this....

Since most (or maybe all) of my readers on here are RB fans, what fandoms have you been involved in previously, and if you're edging into a new one, tell me about that.

Who are you shipping now?

And how did you find the transitions?  Was it difficult to crack into a new fandom?  To find like-minded fans?  Did it involve new social media?
(I had been signed up for Twitter before RB, but really started going to town when I became involved in the fandom.  With Teen Wolf, I'm using Tumblr more and more).

Basically, just tell me the history of your crazy lives as fans/shippers.  Who were you most rabid about?  Who did you hate beyond the telling?  World's best villian?  The best couple in the history of TV (according to you) and why?

The Witness: The Lost Scenes (4)
This was a scene I was trying out when I was trying to nail down Rebecca and Riley's backstory.  And Riley's story with his ex.  I went through many many drafts, and as it stands, I still don't think I know as much as I'd like to about these two.  Suffice it to say, this version of their history didn't make the final cut.  I'm pretty sure I used bits and pieces of it, but in the end, the details concerning Riley's breakup really ate at me, so I changed it all.

I really really loved writing Andy and Riley's friendship.  I thought it was so important for her to have someone who wasn't in her face all the time, and expecting her to evolve and fix herself.  I wanted her to have someone who would just let her stew and get lost in herself every now and again, and someone she could play basketball with and just be totally mindless, if only for a little bit.

Anyway, happy reading.  Hope everyone's having a great week.


“Abby!” Rebecca’s strident voice snapped for the second time off to Andy’s right.

“What?” she finally asked, a little bite to her voice as she straightened from her crouch and looked over.  That was all the opportunity Riley needed to blow past her and make his final point.  Andy groaned and then glared at Rebecca.  “Thanks for that.”

“Yeah, well you were supposed to be ready to leave an hour ago, and clearly, you’re not,” Rebecca said as she waved her hands at Andy’s clothes.  She looked down at her cut-off sweats and the T-shirt with a sweat ring around the neck and armpits.  Andy crossed her arms over her chest as she was subjected to the scrutiny and then frowned, squinting as she tried to remember.

“Ready for what?”

Rebecca’s eyes shot up.  “You said you wanted to go out tonight.  Remember, I have that birthday party I have to make an appearance at?”

“I think ‘want’ is a little strong,” Andy replied with a grin as Riley tossed her a half-empty bottle of water and she cracked it open.

“Well, you said you’d come, so go get ready.”

“Can’t I just go like this?  I mean, we’re just going to a bar, right?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“C’mon, Bec,” Riley said as he sank down onto the steps in front of his back door, and brought up the collar of his shirt to wipe at the sweat on his face.
“Just skip it.  Eat with us.”

“I can’t.  Look, I don’t want to go either, but I promised I’d stop in.  I already put my kids to bed, and I’m paying the Voigt girl $10 an hour to watch
television.”  She looked at Andy.  “So, go home, shower and let’s get out of here.”

She looked over at Riley.  “You too.”

He gave her a patronizing smile.  “I’m not going anywhere.  I’ve got something in the oven.”

“Well, pull it out and stick it in the fridge.  They told me to bring you, and it’ll be a lot easier to suffer through two hours of drunk phlebotomists if you’re there.  Plus, you owe me.”

“For what?” he laughed.

“We don’t have time to hash it out.  Go get ready.”

“Oh no.  Let’s hear it.” 

Andy raised her eyebrows as she leaned a hip onto the 2-foot tall raised flower bed that ran around the back of the house.  Riley had gotten to his feet and was now less than three feet from Rebecca, practically towering over her as she jerked her chin up stubbornly.  They both had their hands on their hips and Andy did an embarrassing snort-giggle and then coughed a little when they both looked at her.

“I’m waiting,” Riley said a moment later. 

Rebecca’s eyes glittered a little.  “I still have handprints on my ass from your cousin’s bachelor party.”

“Hey,” Riley said, barely holding back a smile.  “He was more embarrassed about that than you were.”

“He thought I was the stripper.”

Andy was pretty sure Riley’s grin was going to split his face.  “That was not my fault.”

“You puked in my mom’s car, and I blamed it on Mike.”

“Prom night?” Riley asked incredulously.  “That was ten years ago.”

“And my mother still loves you.”

He snorted.  “Like I care.  Besides, all of that pales with the fact that I’ve been on blind dates with half the single women in this town because of you.”
Rebecca took a deep breath in through her nose, and narrowed her eyes, taking half a step towards him.  “You remember your college roommate’s wedding?”

That did it.  Riley lifted his head, and looked down at her through slitted eyes.  “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that night ever again.  Isn’t that what you promised?”

“Yeah, well, what can I say?  I’m a shitty friend.  Go get ready.”

And he did.  He backed up a few steps and then turned on his heel, blowing past Andy without a word before storming into his house, screen door slamming shut behind him.

“You ready?” Rebecca asked Andy.

“Yeah, I guess.”  She put her hoodie on, cramming her phone and keys into the pockets as she followed Rebecca down the driveway and out onto the sidewalk.  “Is he…”

“Oh, he’s fine.  He’s just embarrassed.”

“That must have been one hell of a wedding.”

“Yeah, it was memorable,” Rebecca muttered as they walked quickly down the block.  “Remember I told you he was engaged a while back?”


“Well, the wedding was a month after she left and since they all knew each other in school, she was invited, but she showed up with another guy and it was just a mess.  He was a mess.”  Rebecca’s heels clicked rapidly against the sidewalk as they walked past each house on the way to Andy’s.

“Everyone started drinking early, and there was a big confrontation in the parking lot.  Even I got dragged into it, and I’m not exactly proud of the things I said to her, but well, couldn’t be helped.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know what happened,” Andy said, with a frown, trying to remember.

“I don’t know the details, but she hurt him pretty bad.  I meant every word I said to her that night,” Rebecca muttered.

“So that’s why he owes you?  Because you bitched out his ex-fiancée?” Andy asked, with a grin.

“Oh no.”  Rebecca barked out a laugh.  “He went back into the wedding before I did that.  I don’t think he even knows about it.  No, he owes me because later that night, a bunch of us went to the bar and he got arrested for public intoxication.  I had to bail his ass out of jail.”  She grinned over at Andy as they walked up the front steps.  “He doesn’t really let go very often, but when he does, it’s entertaining.”

The Witness: The Lost Scenes (3)
gail pretty
Because I've just received an atrocious phone call concerning my boss, my suck ass coworker, and the fact that my ridiculous propensity to work overtime has been completely ignored and therefore unappreciated, I've decided to give you another one this week.


This one is a combination of a few parts.  It originally started with the flashback conversation between Sam and Boyd, when Sam told him he couldn't leave after all, and then convinced him to cut the UC down to three months.  It also would have been the first time Sam caught sight of Piper in 15 Division.

Basically, this version got chopped because it was far too sad.  Even though I really REALLY love the idea of Sam smelling Andy's shampoo in the shower every morning and falling to pieces, it's horrible to make him do that.  I'm a terrible person.  Also, it's a sure bet that Sam would have been forcibly escorted out of the station if he tried to show up back at work after a single day.


He should have just quit.  Forget three months.  He should have just told Boyd to shove it up his ass.  Unbidden, images of Andy swam behind his eyes.  He sat back in his desk chair and stared at the computer screen in front of him, seeing nothing but the quick flash of a toothy smile; the slight twitch of her braid as she walked in front of him.  Memories started flooding his brain.

For the first few days, he'd been okay.  He'd been busy with the debriefing and was still wiped out from the operation so he  dropped off to sleep with no problems.  He didn't dream at all, as far as he could remember.  But when that was finished and he was given a few days off, that was when it hit him.

They'd only had three weeks.  Three weeks wasn't a long time.  Not the length of a hockey season.  Not even a month.  But it was long enough to get used to a lot of things.  The weight of another person in his bed; sharing a cup of coffee in the dark of early morning; falling  asleep in front of the television together.  Even though he'd been under cover and hadn't had any of those things in the last month, he'd held them in his mind.  It was like a promise he made to himself; whenever he got out, he'd never give them up again.  Never again would he have to be satisfied without.

And now, the only promise he could make was that when he finally saw  her again, he would tell her everything.  Every thought he'd had about her while he was under cover, every thought he'd had while she'd been gone during this last month.  Even from before, when they were just partners; when he'd had to pretend that they were just partners.


He'd start with her hair.  How the scent of her hair was still calling to him.  Again, just this morning, he'd opened the bottle of her shampoo, and held it to his nose, remembering how her hair smelled when it was falling over him.  And that made  him think of other things.  Like how the faintest thought of her pressing against him could bring him to attention in an instant.  How he didn't say half the things he should have said the night she left.  And lastly, how every second was harder than the last because he missed her.

And so, he'd gone back to work after using only one of his recovery days.  Of course sitting at a desk wasn't any more distracting than sitting at home in front of the television.  But at work, there were people watching him, expecting things of him.   And so he participated in parade, and he booked criminals, and typed reports.  And every day, he had a few minutes where he could breathe, and forget that she was gone.

"Buddy."  Shaw snapped his fingers in front of Sam's face and he flinched in surprise.

"What?" He looked over.

"What're you thinking about?"  Oliver looked perplexed.  Too bad.

"Nothing.  Just zoned out for a second."

"Well, do you wanna go get lunch or should we send one of the rooks to get something?"

Sam looked around, dreading contact with any of Andy's friends.  They'd all been looking at him like a criminal ever since the announcement.

"Andy McNally is no longer employed by the Toronto Police.  After much consideration, she decided to take a job with the police force in Ottawa."

There had been questions, obviously.  But they'd already heard the story.  The story he and Andy had come up with.  That they'd broken up, that it had been messy.  No other details.  And Sam only told Jerry.  He knew that Jerry would tell Nash and Nash would tell the rest of them.  The only one who hadn't been shooting daggers out her eyes at him was Peck.  But Peck had taken to looking at him with the sympathetic expression they generally reserved for death notifications.  So he couldn't ask her either.

"Let's just get out of here."

He hated riding a desk.  But after he'd fled the nightclub, Best had been keeping him off the streets, hoping that a little time would fade the memories of those who might be wondering as to his whereabouts and identity.  It was also a form of punishment because he'd become unreliable lately.  He no-showed one day.  And then called in another.  He knew his head wasn't screwed on straight.  He knew he had to pull himself together.  Most days were liveable.  But every now and again, the first thought he had when he opened his eyes was that Andy was just in the bathroom, or in the kitchen making breakfast.  And those days were the hard ones.

They stood up and walked through the squad room, shrugging on their coats as they pushed through the door to booking.  They nearly bowled over a woman who was approaching the door from the other side.  She stood an inch or two shorter than Sam, had red hair pulled into a low, curly ponytail, and her large brown eyes blinked as they met his.

Sam gave her only a passing glance and an apologetic nod as he moved past her.  But Oliver turned his head, noticing how her eyes followed Sam until they walked through the door to the sally port.

The Witness: The Lost Scenes (2)
stripes, gail
This is also known as "The One Where Stone Has a Heart".  All I can say is that I was having a weak moment when I wrote this, because logistically, this would have been a nightmare.  There are so many things wrong with this, the cell phones alone would have given me headaches for a week (and actually, now that I'm thinking back, probably did).  Anyway.  It would have changed the entire course of the last couple of chapters, and in effect, the rest of the story, and I just couldn't have that.

This would have taken place after the chapter when Stone and Andy are at the firing range, when Andy asks her for a favor.

* * * * *

The pounding on his door woke him out of a dead sleep.  He thrust his arm out, patted along the top of the nightstand until he touched his phone and then pulled it close, lifting his head and tipping it back a little so he could focus on the screen.  10:15 AM.  Which meant that after breakfast, after he’d finally rolled into bed after his nightshift, he was being awakened after a mere hour and a half of sleep.  He gave phone a toss onto the bed and turned his face back into the pillow, arms folded underneath, sure that eventually, the caller would give up and leave.

The noise continued though for another minute or so.  Finally, it let up and he breathed a sigh of relief, digging himself deeper into the blankets.  And then his phone rang.  And rang and rang.  Groaning loudly in protest, he snatched it up and clicked it on without even looking at the screen.


“If I were you, I’d answer the door.”

He froze, just for a second, as the natural horror movie rush washed through him and then he pushed himself up.

“Who is this?”

“Just open the door, alright?”  The caller, whoever she was, clicked off.  For one long confused moment, he stared at his phone.  He didn’t recognize the number; not even the area code.  His head jerked up as the pounding started up again and then, he rose, taking the time to pull on a pair of pants, to tug a T-shirt down over his head as he padded barefoot down the hall to the living room and out to the front door.
He glanced out the window and for a second, his heart nearly in his throat as he saw the small light-haired woman and the much taller blonde man standing on his front steps.  The door was wrenched open before he could give it a second thought.  He put his forearm up against the door frame and leaned against it, giving her a hard stare before he gave the rest of his yard a quick scan.

“She’s not with us,” Stone said and his eyes cut to hers, the glare coming just a split second after the wave of disappointment.  “Can I come in?”

He made a face and then shook his head.  “No, I don’t think so.”

A flicker of a smile played across her lips and she tilted her head a little, looking at McBride out of the corner of her eye.  “You want to give us a second?”  He gave her a short nod and then gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before heading back down the stairs and over to the dark sedan.  Something about the way he did it made Sam’s blood run cold and he took a step back, shaking his head as his hands came up of their own volition and clenched in his hair.

Stone was staring at him like he’d gone completely mental and then, realization swept over her face and her eyebrows shot up as she took a step towards him, over the threshold and held her hands up.

“Wait a second.  This isn’t a death notification.  Relax.”

His version of “relax” was to practically collapse on the back of the couch, hands pressed to his face as the wave of nausea subsided.  His hands were still shaking just the slightest amount as he lowered them to the sofa, curled into fists around the frame.  Stone had closed the door quietly behind her and was now standing maybe six feet from him, trying not to be obvious about it as she took in the interior of his house.

“Fucking Christ,” Sam muttered as he took a deep breath and tipped his head back.  “I think you just took ten years off my life.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.  I should have realized.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “An apology.  Can’t say I ever expected to get one of those from you.”

Her gaze hardened a little.  “You know, both times I’ve met with you, I’ve come into it trying to be sympathetic, and when you say things like that, it makes me want to just…not.”

He shook his head, snorting and gestured at the door. “Take a hike then.”  He walked past her into the kitchen, got his hands on the bag of coffee sitting on the counter and then clenched his jaw when he heard her walk in behind him.

“Trust me, this wasn’t my first choice either.  But I made her a promise.”

He turned then, really slow, brows drawn together.  “Promised her what?”

She stepped up next to him and jerked her chin at the coffee.  “Go ahead.”  He kept an eye on her, glancing at her every few seconds as he scooped grounds into the filter, as he filled the reservoir.  “I’ve got to say,” she began, unbuttoning her coat and flipping it out to the side as she sank into one of his kitchen chairs.  “I expected to be hit with about a hundred questions the second you opened the door.”

He barked out a laugh and shot a look at her over his shoulder.  “As if there’s any way you’d tell me even a single thing about her.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously at his and she opened her mouth, but after a second, he saw the fight sort of subside and she licked her lips and shook her head.  “I didn’t come here to rub it your face.”

“Really?  Because you’re doing a hell of a job of it so far.”

“I didn’t want to come here at all, alright?” she snapped.  “I’m in town on business, and I thought I’d be able to settle this by talking to your staff sergeant but he wouldn’t give me anything.  So I’m here.  Trust me.  I’m thrilled to have to come here and beg for information.”

“Information about what?” he said, tone still diamond hard as he grabbed down a cup from the cabinet.  She cleared her throat and he rolled his eyes but took one down for her too.  “I know you’ve already heard about Chris Malone.”

She nodded.  “Got the call last night.  It’s part of the reason I’m in town.  I’ve got a meeting with Karen Anderson and Jerry Barber later on this afternoon to get the whole story.”

“What’s the other reason?” he asked handing her the mug.

“That I can’t tell you,” she said with a tiny smile.  “Nothing to do with any of this though.”  She sipped at the coffee and made a face.  “Do you have any creamer?”

“No,” he answered, knowing full well that there was a half-gallon of milk sitting inside the fridge.  “So why are you here, then?” he asked, leaning back against the counter, arm tucked protectively around his middle.

She set the cup down on the table carefully, so as not to slosh out any liquid.  “I told you, I made a promise.” She looked up at him.

“To Andy.”

She nodded.  “She wants to know how you are.”

He frowned, eyebrows drawn together.  “I would think you’d probably tell her to shove it.  You know, get over it.”

She quirked an eyebrow.  “I wouldn’t put it exactly like that, but yeah.  That’s been the general game plan.  Up until now.”

“So what changed?”

She gave him a smile, a genuine somewhat embarrassed smile.  “She caught me at a weak moment.”

He felt a smile start at the corner of his mouth and turned around, refilling his cup before Stone could catch sight of it.  “Yeah, she has a way of doing that.”

“Honestly, I’m pretty sure the whole thing was an act, so I’m actually feeling pretty stupid right now.”

“Well, at least something good came out of this visit,” Sam said, tossing her a snide grin.

She stared at him for a second and then gave him a quick nod.  “I didn’t have to come here, you know.”  She shrugged and got to her feet, wrapping her coat around her, buttoning it up.  And as much as Sam wished he’d never laid eyes on her, the general fear that spread through him at the thought of her leaving was ten times stronger.  She turned around, was out the doorway and halfway to the front door on her little legs before he found himself striding after her.


And she did, like he knew she would.  She spun around and her eyebrows were up, mouth a hard line as she stared at him in challenge.  But he just shook his head, knowing in that moment that he’d put up with another few hours of her bullshit if it meant he’d learn something about Andy.  Somewhat deflated, he turned back towards the kitchen, waving her after him, and after a moment, he heard her follow.

He sank into the chair nearest the back door and she did the whole unbuttoning-the-coat routine, finally perching on the edge of the chair she’d previously vacated, sticking her two middle fingers through the handle of her cup as she lifted it to her mouth.

“So?” she asked expectantly.

He pushed his cup around, and wet his lower lip before giving his head a definitive shake.  “No.  You first.”

She pursed her lips and then gave him a nod.   “What do you want to know?”

“Where is she?”  It was a long shot, but he had to give it a go.

“Nice try.”  She gave him a tight smile.

He gave her a weak smile.  “She’s safe though, right?”

Stone nodded.  “Very.”

He nodded.  “Is she making friends?”

“Not as easily as I’d hoped, but yeah, she is.”

“But Tommy got there, okay, right?  So she’s not alone?”

“He’s there.”  She grinned at him; just a quick white flash of teeth.  “They’re getting on each other’s nerves.”

“I can imagine,” he said, bobbing his eyebrows once.  His thumb tapped against the edge of his mug and he hesitated before asking the next question.  A quick catch of breath in his throat, a very concentrated pressure heavy in his chest.

“Is she happy?” he asked, eyes flicking up once, then twice to meet hers.

Stone glanced away, down at her cup for a second, giving the contents a quick swirl.  “She’s getting there.  I don’t think she really wants to be, to tell you the truth.”

“You know you could fix that,” he said, watching with a tiny charge as her eyes lifted to his in surprise.  And then she realized where he was going with it.  “You know, if you just got out your computer, filed a petition.  It would pretty much make my life a lot easier.”

She settled back in her chair and took another unhurried drink of her coffee.  “That’s not why I’m here today.”

“It could be.”

“No.  It couldn’t.”  He leaned forward in his chair, feet flat on the floor as he opened his mouth to argue, but she just turned, got up and refilled her cup, talking over her shoulder the whole way.  “You and I can go around and around on this, but I’m here for a reason.  And I don’t have a lot of time.  In fact,” she paused as she looked down at her watch.  “I have to be over at OPP in forty-five minutes.  So just tell me now.  Is this going to be a waste of my time?”

Stone turned around and looked at him and after a long moment, he dropped his eyes, jaw flexing as he sat there.   He drew a long breath in through his nose and then, she stepped up to the table, filled up his cup and moved away again.  He cupped his hands around it, feeling the heat burn against his skin.

“I just don’t get it.  It would be the quickest fix.”  He laughed, sort of ironically.  “You’d be a hero or something,” he mumbled before he took a drink of the scalding liquid.

She sat across from him again, and he felt her watching him, but didn’t raise his eyes to meet hers.  “It’s not my call, okay?” she said quietly.  Her tone was still firm, still hard, but there was the slightest indication of a tremor in her voice.  “And it wouldn’t be a quick fix.  It would take months of filing paperwork and you getting your affairs in order, selling your house, saying goodbye to everyone that you love, and then in the end, after all that anticipation, you’d discover that the petition was denied.  Even if I went to bat for you.”  She shifted in her chair, pulling her coat tighter around her, like a chill had settled into her bones.  “I don’t like being seen as the person who ruins people’s lives.  I don’t enjoy people hating me, but this is my job.”

He licked his lips again, elbows up on the table, hands still around the cup as he stared at her.  “Could you at least try?  Please.”

She actually had to look away then.  He saw it, the split second when she might have given in, and then behind her, the front door opened and McBride walked in.

“Are you almost done in here?” he asked as he wiped his feet on the mat and then made his way across the dining room into the kitchen.

Stone gave him a distracted smile and nodded.  “In a few minutes.”  He stood in the doorway behind her and she turned back to Sam and he saw her physically change.  Saw all any trace of softness disappear and in its place was the former hard-as-nails expression and posture he remembered from four months before.  She took a deep breath.  “Your turn.”

Sam shook his head.  “I want to call her.”

“No way,” Stone said an instant later.

He was still shaking his head.  “Well, I’m not breaking my heart open for you.  She wants to know how I’m doing?  I’ll tell her.  Not you.”
Stone just stared at him for the longest five seconds of his life and then made a face as she turned to McBride.

“Give me your phone.”  He handed it over without question and she fiddled with it, finally handing it over and he looked down.  “Jill Stone” was highlighted in his list of contacts and Sam looked up at her confused.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”

She held her phone out.  “Call my phone, leave a voicemail.  I’ll let her listen to it when I get home.”

Sam snorted.  “Yeah, right.”

She shrugged.  “You can’t call her, because then you’ll have her number.  Besides, she’s at work now.”  She nodded to the phone in his hand.  “So it’s the voicemail, or you could write her a quick letter or something.”  She shrugged.  “Andy would probably appreciate the voicemail more.”

She glanced at McBride who tapped his watch, then she turned back to Sam.  “I can give you five minutes, maybe ten, to figure out what you want to say and make the call.  But after that, we’ve got to go.”  For a long moment, he didn’t move, unsure of whether or not to trust it, this chance to send a message to Andy.  But she raised her eyebrows at him.  “Clock’s ticking.”

His chair screeched against the floor as he pushed himself away from the table and stood up.  He paused at her chair, eyes still down on the phone.  And after a moment, he raised his eyes to hers.

“Will you?  Try?”

She blinked and took a heavy breath.  “All I can promise is that I’ll think about it.”

He gave her a pained look and then, without another word, he strode quickly from the room, back to the bedroom and shut the door.

Once alone, he sank down on the bed, staring down at the phone in his head as a hundred words rushed around in his brain.  For over a minute, he was unable to put them together, unable to form a coherent thought.  And then, when he realized he was running his time down, he pressed his lips together, brought the phone up to his ear and rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, waiting for voicemail to connect.

He started out tentatively, almost uncomfortable, but as he raced through it, fitting in as much as he could, he found the words coming easier.  And when the mechanical voice on the other end interrupted, telling him he’d talked his fill, he hung up and sent another.  And then another.

The Witness: The Lost Scenes (1)
stripes, gail
This was originally slotted to occur before the bar scene on Andy's (Abby's) birthday - again, if this scene did actually appear in the final draft, I apologize....I looked and couldn't find it.

Rebecca stuck the key in the ignition and clicked her belt into place and then, as she shifted into reverse, her eyes bounced over once. “So, how’s that boyfriend of yours? When do I get to meet him?”

Andy shrugged and turned toward the window. “We’re just trying to get our schedules in sync,” she lied. “Maybe next month.”

“That’s what you said last month,” Rebecca commented quietly as she put the car into gear and cranked the wheel. Andy felt a tiny pinprick of annoyance. Not so much at Rebecca’s bluntness; that barely even registered anymore. It was more that she was tired of having to come up with valid and relatable explanations for why he wasn’t there, why he couldn’t just hop on a plane and come out for a visit. Also, more and more, she was tired of making those excuses to herself. She had an incredibly clear notion of why; it had been pounded into her time and again not only by Stone but also by her dad. But at times, like the night before when she’d lain awake in bed, stretching her hand out over the cool sheet next to her, it was hard to come up with a good reason.

“Maybe you should surprise him,” Rebecca suggested as she slowed the van and pulled it up to the curb in front of Riley’s house. “You know, take some vacation, get a plane ticket and just show up at his door.”

“That’s not really an option right now,” Andy said, voice tight as she thought of how badly she wanted to do just that. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement, and she looked over, catching sight of Riley as he stepped out his door and jogged over through the rain.

He wrenched open the side door, got in and hit the button to close it. Rebecca had the van in gear and moving away from the boulevard before it clicked shut.

“Geez, Bec. Something on your mind?” Riley asked, his tone blatantly sarcastic as he flapped rain off the collar of his jacket.

Rebecca ignored him. “I was just telling Abby she should take a trip and see Sam. What do you think?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Riley said. Andy glanced back and saw him holding out his phone, rubbing the face against his pant leg to soak up the rain drops.

“Or maybe he should come here,” Rebecca said.

“Yeah, whatever works, I guess.” Riley shoved his phone into his pocket.

“You don’t have an opinion?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at him in the rearview.

“Why would I? She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions.” His tone brooked no arguments, in fact, he sounded a little put out at the sudden inquisition, but Rebecca paid no attention to that. She opened her mouth to reply and Andy swung an arm out at her.

“It doesn’t matter, okay? I don’t have enough put away to take a trip,” she fibbed. “And he’s busy anyway. He can’t visit right now. And it sucks, so just drop it,” Andy finished, a headache nibbling around behind her eyes.

The Witness: The Lost Scenes

So I've been extremely absent as far as this story goes. There are loads of reasons, ranging from simple (or not so simple) writer's block to a few really disappointing experiences within the RB fandom to an unsupportive environment and a job that is just (for lack of a better explanation) soul-crushing. That being said, I'm not done with this story. I still have plans for these characters (even though at the moment, they are more my characters than the ones we've been seeing on television), and high hopes for your experiences and reactions as readers.

As such, I'm going to post what I'm calling "Lost Scenes" - scenes that did not make the cut (for whatever reason - OOC, schmaltzy, schmoopy, wordy, clingy, whatevs), and scenes that may appear in later chapters, but since those chapters are a long time coming...may as well be posted now. I will not be posting anything that's extremely spoilerish. However, I may post a few scenes that would have severely changed the course of this story, had they been retained.

These posts are now open to the public.

(Please also note that though it's been a while since you've read the story, it's probably been even longer since I have. If I end up posting scenes that made it to the final draft in some form or another, I apologize. It's because I literally can't remember if I used them, and couldn't find them in the final chapters posted on FF.net.)

The first scene will be posted immediately.

Ficlet: Bare
stripes, gail
[Note: This was inspired by a post on RBConfessions on tumblr.

Let's pretend for a moment that Andy and Sam were forced to decontaminate in 4.05.]


They both stared at Howard for a second, mouths dropped open in shocked silence.

He just stared back, an expression of mixed amusement and impatience on his face. "I'm not kidding. You're gonna wanna get out of those clothes. You can change into these." He dropped the two sets of scrubs into a pile on the table, and both Sam and Andy followed the hazmat suit with their eyes as it waddled out of the room.

It took a moment or two, but eventually, they dragged their eyes back to the table between them.

Sam moved first, stretching out a hand to snag the larger pair of scrubs. He slid them an inch or two closer to himself.

"I guess we'd better..." he began, his eyes bouncing up to meet Andy's for an instant, and then back down to the fabric in his hand.

She nodded automatically, grabbing for her own, wishing for one ridiculous second that she'd had the foresight to shave her legs when she'd showered that morning. That's what she got for sleeping in.

"Yeah," Any croaked, then swallowed hard. "Yeah, guess so." Except she wasn't looking away. He was spun a quarter-turn away from her and she watched as he stripped off his vest. The long-sleeved shirt came next; he reached over his head and grabbed it, dragging it off in a couple quick tugs. She only got a glimpse of the expanse of his bare chest as he tossed it into a pile on the table top.

Sam glanced over, caught her staring, and Andy spun around, the blue polyester flying like a flag clutched in her fist.

Her scrubs fell to the floor as she reached up and started fumbling with her gear belt.

"Andy," he said quietly from behind her. "It's okay."

"No!" she blurted out far too quickly. "I didn't mean..." She inhaled deeply through her nose and clenched her fingers around the belt for a moment, summoning up a little composure. "I'm just in shock or something. Traumatic situation, and all," she added with a laugh, hoping she came off casual and not totally humiliated. Though she doubted it.

She only got silence in return. Or silence and a deep sigh.

The belt went on the table and she went to work on her vest, then her boots, getting the laces free with minimal effort. She kicked them off as her fingers started flicking buttons open on her uniform. Andy cast one quick glance over her shoulder, and saw that Sam had turned away.

It was just wrong that she felt a little disappointed by that. Maybe even a little insulted and annoyed. Okay, more annoyed that she was still staring at him when he clearly didn't care that she was less than six feet away, stripping her clothing off. She looked away.

The button-down came off, tossed over her shoulder towards the table, and the pants hit the ground with a soft click of button against tile and then the undershirt came off. Gooseflesh rose up on her bare arms and thighs, chased across the flat expanse of her stomach and she took one last deep breath as she stretched her arms back and unhooked her bra.

Okay, another thing she would have changed? Maybe she would have worn her nice underwear. Or at least something that wasn't over a year old, something he hadn't seen at least half a dozen times. She shook her head slightly, and tucked one arm around her breasts as she gathered the boring black cotton underwire into one hand and reached straight back to set it on the table.

When her hand collided with another, she told herself it was only surprise that made her gasp. The garment fell from her hand onto the middle of the table as she spun halfway around, forearm still pressed against herself with a modicum of modesty.

Sam had his hand stretched across the table as well, fingers clenched tightly in the half-folded pants still sitting on the table. His eyes were locked onto hers, mouth agape. As she saw his Adam's apple bob in a nervous swallow, his eyes drifted downward.

Andy's eyebrows shot up.

"Do you mind?" she snapped before she whirled back around.

This time, the muttered "sorry" came from Sam's side, and she waited until she heard him shuffling before she let the scrub top fall down over her shoulders and float down to cover her stomach.

Behind her, Sam was clearing his throat, muttering a curse under his breath.

Andy smiled.

Not so unaffected after all.

The Witness: An Excerpt
So I realize that it's taking forever for me to get this chapter out, so as an act of good faith, I thought I'd give you a little piece.  I haven't given up on this story, I promise.  Oh and I reserve the right to alter/edit this section to suit my needs ;)


When she looked up, she found Sam staring at her.  Her eyes flicked to his once and then again until he realized she'd caught him.

"Sorry," he apologized quietly, looking like he only half-meant it.  But he didn't look away.

Andy raised her eyebrows, but dropped her gaze as she gave her head a shake.  "No.  It's okay. It's been a long time, right?" she replied, giving him a quick, self-conscious smile.  It was clear from the expression on his face that Sam wanted her to say more on the subject.  On how long it had been, about what that time meant. He opened his mouth to speak, and Andy felt herself tense, not quite prepared to have that exact conversation yet.  Not here in the middle of this crowd, not when she felt so uncomfortable under this sun, in her own skin.  But instead, he said something else.

"So who are you these days?" he asked right before he popped the last bite of his burger into his mouth.  As he reached for his soda, Andy gave him a wry smile and reached into her back pocket for her wallet.  She slid her license out from behind the plastic protector, the one with her picture and someone else's name, and she handed it over, pinning the card between her index and middle fingers.

Sam took it from her and held it out so he could read it.

"Abigail Lynn McAllister, huh?"  He glanced over at her.

"Abby," she corrected quickly, giving him a nod.

He was quiet for a moment, as he let his eyes travel back and forth between her face and the ID. "Pretty girl," he finally said, flashing his dimples.  Andy rolled her eyes, but she couldn't deny the warmth that flooded through her.  "Shaved a few years off," he added with a smirk, laughing out loud when she snatched the card out of his hand with a playful glare.

"Well, if I have to change my birthday, I'm not gonna make myself older, am I?" She pushed the thin piece of plastic back into her wallet and tucked it away in her pocket.

Sam took another sip from his drink and sort of leaned back, bending a leg up on top of the bench as he stared past the people and the building and off into the distance.  "So who is she?  Abby," he clarified, giving her a quick look.

Andy shrugged, leaning forward onto her elbows as she spun the cup between her fingers; the condensation made it slippery, and she traced her fingers through the tiny droplets.  "Nobody important," she finally responded, with a sad half-smile.  "That's sort of the point, right?"

She reached out into the center of the table and started collecting what was left of their lunch, balling napkins and condiment packets together, but she stilled when Sam put his hands on hers, wrapping his warm fingers around her wrists.

Her eyes snapped up to his, and for a second, they just stared at each other.

"I just mean," he began slowly, lowering his voice even as his eyebrows crept higher, seemingly with each word.  "I'm going to need to know everything about your cover story.  In case we run into people you know." Sam sat back, pulling his hands away, sliding them over the backs of her hands until she missed the heat of them.

Andy had the garbage clenched tightly in her fists as she continued to stare at him.  "So you're planning on staying a while then?" she asked, feeling her stomach turn hopeful, anxious somersaults.

He nodded, and then reached out for the last clean napkin on the table.  "As long as I can.  If that's okay?" he finished, wiping a smear of grease from his fingers.


Sent from my iPad

so, lace your hands 'round the small of my back
gail pretty
Prepare for some rampant self-indulgence here.

After a hiatus that's lasted way too long (for you and me), I've managed to get to a finishing place with a few projects.  Also it's (getting to be) spring, and the sun is staying up longer, and yeah.  Basically, I want to recapture my writing mojo or what have you, so here's how to play:

Prompt me and I'll give you a short paragraph (or two).

I'm not particularly fond of RB S3, so I'd rather not get stuck in that quagmire but S1 and S2 are fair game.

Also, I've been getting quite a few msgs wondering about future sequels to The Distance and updates to The Witness, and if you're so inclined, feel free to prompt me about those characters/stories/realities. That being said, I reserve the right to not answer prompts/ideas that I already have planned for the long story.  But this applies to all characters, theirs or mine, protagonist or antagonist, main characters or supporting characters.

So, let me have it. :)

A little something to keep you busy...
Tell me about a story I haven't written, and I'll give you between one and three (R-rated) sentences from that story.

The catch? You have to post this, too.