(no subject)

[helsinkibaby]

Having spent the last two days in bed, I did the whole venturing out thing today and went into Dublin... the sky is blue, who knew? Found the new Toby Keith album, which I await to hear with some trepidation (The Taliban Song anyone?) and also an Amanda Marshall album, which is like a greatest hits, for sale at forty euros. Having picked my jaw up off the floor, I took a principled stand and refused to buy it, and found it online just now for less than £20 sterling, including postage and packing, which is around 27euros. Said on the site that it will take four to six weeks delivery; I said it could take four to six months, I'd still wait before I paid 40euros for it.

Apparently Sci-Fi have picked up the new Battlestar Galactica for 14 episodes? Still have a quarter of the miniseries to watch, but I think that makes me happy.

And I've ordered my copy of the Michael Cerveris album Dog-Eared which is out on Tuesday. It must be mine, it simply must be. Mad happy dancing about that.

Fic, both for multifandom1000 challenges. The first is, I swear I'm not making this up, a 21 Jump Street fic, which I can partially blame on demon_faith asking me in a queue at SG7 if Peter DeLuise was a serious actor. Of course, she got the whole Doug/Marta storyline, complete with quotes, and when we looked over at poor Kyla, I'd reduced her to tears! So this, for those of you who don't know the story of Doug and Marta, is it in 682 words.
Marta Carrabus knows that she is no fairytale princess. After all, fairytale princesses are supposed to be beautiful, ethereal creatures, blonde and slim and perfect. They are not supposed to be El Salvadoran refugees, living illegally in America, having had to flee her home for the crime of teaching English to her people. They are not supposed to be politically aware, much less politically active, and they are not meant to be working in a cafeteria for a living.

Marta is no princess, but she thinks that might be ok, because Doug Penhall is certainly no-one’s idea of a fairytale prince. Not conventionally handsome, could stand to lose a few pounds, can be quick-tempered, impulsive, and from what she knows of his family history – father an alcoholic, a mother who committed suicide when he was a child, a brother who ran away – he has issues enough without becoming involved with her.

They are neither of them characters from a fairytale, but she thinks they may be a fairytale couple anyway; two people who met and connected while he investigated a case where she worked, ended up arresting her before the mess was all sorted out. And he’s not everyone’s Prince Charming, but he is hers, the funny guy who asked her to teach him to say “lasagne” in Spanish, who, when he tried to tell her that she had pretty eyes, ended up telling her that she had pretty eggs. Who mixed her up when she spoke English to him, told her that she mixed him up too.

The Prince Charming who, having known her for five days, asked her to marry him so that she wouldn’t be deported.

She refused at first, because the whole idea was crazy, ludicrous, would never work. But he didn’t give up, talked her into it, with words as romantic to her as any fairytale proposal.

“I think this could be a really good thing. Look at the possibilities. We get married. We get to know each other. Maybe, possibly, we fall madly in love. We have kids, and grandkids . . . a house, with a sun porch. I think we could be really happy together… I don't want to lose you.”

Moved to honesty, she told him, “I don’t want you to lose me either,” and seeing her wavering, he pressed his advantage.

“You're scared. I'm scared. We can be scared together. All you gotta do is say yes. Come on, I know it's in there.”

What else could she do, but say yes?

It was no fairytale wedding, but it was enough for them, and now she stands beside him in the courtroom, this place that has haunted her dreams, her nightmares, for so long. He stands beside her, as he said he always would, his presence solid and comforting and real, and she wonders who she ever thought she could get through this without him. She tells him as much, because she can see the fear in his eyes, and it’s suddenly very important to her that she tell him everything that’s in her heart.

“You know, I've imagined this place . . .the tables, the flags, where the judge sits. And I knew I would always be here and they would be deciding about me. And every time I imagined it, you were never there. Reality is not so bad.”

He smiles, her Prince Charming, and the hearing begins, and the evidence is presented, and Marta lets herself believe that things will work out as Doug promised her last night that they would, that she will be able to go home with him and begin their life together. That the anti-Prince and the anti-Princess will nonetheless get the fairytale ending.

Then the judge begins to speak, and when she hears what he says, the world starts to spin in slow motion, only returning to normal when Doug holds her, grabs her as if he never wants to let her go, and she holds him the same way.

He is crying, and so is she, and their fairytale lies shattered around them.

Then, for those of you who just don't have enough angst in your lives, you might remember my big long CSI piece, A Fool for Lesser Things which was a Sara/Lockwood piece that stuck to canon. When I saw challenge #9, The Road Not Taken, this straight away leaped into my brain. I think it's quite obvious where it becomes AU!
Sara never wanted to fall in love with Cyrus Lockwood. In those early days, where he seemed to be always there, hovering in the background, being her friend, that was all he was, all she wanted him to be. She was only just getting over Grissom, she was still burned by Hank, and the last thing she wanted was a relationship.

Cyrus won her over anyway.

With his quiet demeanour, his friendly overtures, the general fact that he was just a nice guy who wanted to be there for her, she didn’t realise she was falling for him until she was in too deep to back out, and had no interest in doing so anyway.

The realisation of just how much he meant to her came suddenly, hard-won on a morning when they’d been sleeping together for five days. She knew how long because that was the shift when Catherine’s suspension ran out, and it was her day off, and his, and they had plans. She’d woken up when he’d got out of bed, and he’d told her that he was going to the bathroom, but when she’d turned around seconds later, she’d heard the shower running. That much had made her squint at the clock, and she knew he was getting ready to begin the day, run errands, and weighed up the advantages of staying in bed herself, or getting up and going with him.

Seconds later, she was joining him in the shower, where they stayed until the water began to run cold, and after that, it was a long time before they made it out of the bedroom. They eventually did though, making it into town, where they tried to go to the bank, only to be stopped at the corner, hearing words like hold-up and shots fired and reports of a young mother killed as she tried to make a run for it, and Sara suddenly realised that but for their amorous encounter that morning, Cyrus would have been there.

Maybe he realised that too, because they didn’t perform the rest of their errands; instead they went back to his place, and curled up on the couch for the rest of the day.

Sara was surprised to find herself thinking that she could spend the rest of her life like that.

By the end of the summer, Sara had moved into Cyrus’s house, had met his family, and his little niece Stephanie had grown to love her, was calling her “Auntie Sara.” Cyrus had met her family too, when she’d taken him to Tomales Bay for a week, a week when the carnival was in town, and she’d taken him on the Ferris Wheel, and they’d gone on the Cups and Saucers, where he’d kissed her as the ride slowed down, just like when he’d kissed her for the very first time.

Nick was fond of teasing her about the two of them, and his teasing increased coming up to Christmas, when he would ask her if she was getting a diamond under the tree. As it happened, she got a sapphire, but in a necklace, not a ring, giving Nick another chance to tease her as Valentine’s Day approached.

As it happened, when Cyrus proposed, it wasn’t on any special day, but it was at a special place, the carnival where a year earlier, he’d kissed her for the first time. They faithfully re-created that date, down to the milk can throw and the Cups and Saucers, and when they were stopped atop the Ferris Wheel, the lights of Vegas spread out below them, Cyrus asked her to marry him.

She didn’t hesitate to say yes.

When the time came, her father walked her down the aisle as all their friends and family looked on. It had fallen to Catherine to help Sara with the dress shopping, and they’d chosen one that was ivory rather than white, halter necked with a flowing skirt, and Sara knew they’d chosen the right one when she got to the altar and saw that Cyrus was having trouble putting words together. Beside him, Nick the best man was having no such troubles, lips and eyes smiling as he looked at the two of them, the match that he was taking sole responsibility for, and he kept smiling all day, just like they did. Their first dance was to “To Make You Feel My Love” and Sara told Cyrus that she’d never been happier, and she meant every word.

When Nick made his best man’s speech that day, he joked about how he’d better be first in line for godparent duty, and everyone had laughed, Sara and Cyrus most of all. But it was no laughing matter a scant five months after the wedding, when the aroma of Greg’s favourite coffee turned her stomach, when she couldn’t keep any food down. The doctor confirmed her store-bought test, and Cyrus whooped with delight when she told him, lifting her up and spinning her around, an act that had her running to the bathroom. He resolved to wrap her up in cotton wool for the next eight months, which is just what he did, and she surprised herself with how much she actually enjoyed it. She cut down her hours at work, drove a desk once she started to show, and when their daughter was born, he was there, and he held her later, after everyone else had gone, and he’d told her that he’d never been happier.

He told her the same thing two years later when a second daughter was born to them, and again, two and a half years later, when they had a son. He was two months old at Christmas time, and when Sara sat on the couch, with him in her arms, looking at Cyrus and their daughters ripping the paper off presents, she knew that this was what life was all about, and that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

And now I go to look at the first two eps of Jake 2.0.

But first? Have I mentioned I love Seth Cohen? OK then.