A/N:All characters in this chapter are mine, except those in the final drabble. There's an extra note for them at the end.

Chapter Three: Star Catcher, the Flemings, and Random Characters

Introspection

Sometimes, Perseis wondered what it would be like to kiss Mayim. Not the brief, fumbling, awkward mouth-suctioning they’d shared in the bedroom; Perseis aching, Mayim blissfully unaware. A proper kiss, one where Mayim’s callused hands caressed Perseis’ face, ridiculous but endearing words exchanged between them.

It was silly. Perseis knew it.

It didn’t mean Perseis could control flutters whenever Mayim’s warm fingers touched Perseis’ arm, or a soft glance went astray.

“Hey,” Mayim’s smile; broad, genuine, a half-eaten strawberry outstretched between them. “Want it?”

It wasn’t enough. But as long as they stayed together, Perseis could pretend to be happy.

Strange Behaviour

Rea wants guard duty with more action, but the Princara’s word is law. If ey wants Reamonn to protect a dusty scholar, it must be done.

But something is wrong with Ailean.

The historian’s gaze, akin to an owl’s; simultaneously piercing and surrounding Rea. Fingers, deft with turning ancient, crumbling pages, tremble and drop random objects.

But never a word.

It makes Rea nervous; at last, it is too much. “What is wrong with you?”

Aile jumps; scattering pages, knocking an inkpot into eir lap. “Nothing. Just distracted,” softly.

Rea eyes the other, but says nothing. Academics are so weird.

(A/N for “Introspection” and “Strange Behaviour”: A sneak preview for “Star Catcher”, of which you can read more at my storyblog. Nothing more to say.)

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Determination

She floated through the corridor, taking a sip of metallic water recycled from sweat, air containing too much carbon and not enough oxygen. He was in the engine room, fiddling with who knew what, trying to make it last. He believed; it was what he did.

But she knew better. No matter how much they conserved, at this rate they both would die. She’d done the calculations, changed some prime data so only she would know.

She would go to jail when she returned planetside, but she’d be alive.

She called his name softly, holding the knife behind her back.

(A/N for “Determination”: No relation to anyone or anything. It’s from something my father and I wrote when I was in grade 12 or OAC.)

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The following threedrabbles are about Paul’s family. They may or may not be incorporated into Ravyyn’s one-shot, “Daddy’s Girl.”

Anniversary

She’d told herself that she was over this. Yet every June 17th, she found herself taking a faded photograph from the back of a drawer, running her fingertips over their smiling faces.

Oh, sure, she’d played “I Will Survive” and ordered pizza for the kids the day he’d left. No one but little Paul had seen her tears that night, as she pounded the pillow and shouted words she vowed she’d never say in front of her children.

Next year she’d stop this silliness. Just not yet. She nodded decisively, put the picture back in its hiding place.

Next year.

Waiting

She sat at the glass door, small hands clutching a suitcase with the Power Rangers emblazoned across the front. Voices chattered, including her mother’s request that she join them at the table. She ignored them all.

Tiffany was waiting.

He’d come at six, he said, and so she kept her post faithfully. She looked at her watch — a clunky thing, Ninja Turtles — the little hand was past the seven.

That wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. He’d promised!

I’ll take you away from here, Tiger. You ‘n’ me.

Tiffany stayed there ‘til morning. He never came.

She painted her room black.

Daddy’s True Colours

“What's a faggot, Papa?" Tiffany asked, and she watched his face carefully. Papa choked on his burger, and it took him longer than Tiffany thought necessary to swallow some pop and wipe his mouth.

"Where'd you hear that, Tiger?"

Tiffany speared her French fry with the little plastic fork and smushed it around. "Boys at school. They call Pauly that.”

As she watched, Papa's face darkened in the same way the ground did when a cloud passed over the sun. She decided never to mention this again. "Something I hope to god he isn't, or I'm out of here, pumpkin."

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Evil

Darkness. It hides his movements, though does nothing to muffle sound. He must be cautious.

It must be destroyed, this evil too great to leave unharmed. He is the only one who can; the girl is too afraid.

He finds it, nestled in its protective shrine, surrounded by photographs and clumsy hand-drawn effigies. He shudders, wishing he’d brought gloves.

He knows the consequences; tears, flailing, possibly hatred. But he will endure. In the long run, evil must be vanquished.

A click, and light fills the room. “Sky?” Brad’s sleepy voice makes him freeze. “What’re you doin’ with my Buffy DVDs?”

(A/N for “Evil”: My favourite of all of them, I think. Skyler and Bradly are property of Ash, known as Nagako on FP.C and LJ. Check her stuff out. Now, I tell you!!)