Iron
folder
Paranormal/Supernatural › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
14
Views:
854
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Paranormal/Supernatural › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
14
Views:
854
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Scrap--Sunday Morning
Sunday morning I'm waking up.../Can't even focus on a coffee cup.../Don't even know whose bed I'm in.../Where do I start, where do I begin?
Some times, some times things...happen. She loses time, looks at a clock and'll realise that she can't remember what she's been doing for the last three damn days. The only thing she can think of, the only thing that made sense, is that it's something left over from the crash. People don't just wake-up from two week comas and a full-on collision to walk away without some problems.
She dealt with it. In every new dive she crashed in, the first thing to go up was a calender, days carefully crossed off. She always wore a waterproof analog watch with the date inside, kept a notebook with a running commentary of what she was doing.
That didn't make it any less scary when she woke up in a room she damn well knew wasn't hers, naked under the worn cotton sheets.
Sitting up slowly, she couldn't help the slight groan that slipped out, pressing her hands to her head. Her stupid icy fingers helped a little, but not nearly enough. Eyes shut, she forced herself to relax, coaxing the headache to become bearable. It's another thing she's had to learn to deal with; dropping off the fucking grid meant no more prescriptions, no more pills. Slowly, the pain slid away and she opened her eyes again, squinting at the light.
She still didn't know where she was.
"Here." The deep voice startled her; she jumped, leaning on one arm, the other held in front of her. She smelled the coffee before she could see it, rich and savory. Pressing one hand against from her face, she peered up at the man standing over her. He held the cup out like a peace offering.
"Not to sound rude or anything," she croaked, taking the cup. "But who are you, and do you happen to have any excedrin?" She flashed him a smile to take the edge off.
He laughed, nodding. "No offense taken," he assured her, tossing over a small bottle. "I'm Nate. You told me this would probably happen last night, said it'd been awhile since the last time."
It had been awhile. Taking a long, long sip, she hid her nerves and studied him from under her flyaway hair. Brown, streaked with blue; she couldn't be missing too much time, then. Not like that one time when she went to bed with her regular old blonde hair and woke up with a black and red bob and three months of her life missing. That still was one of the more terrifying moments in her life.
Why would she tell him? Sporadic amnesia wasn't the type of thing one told a casual fling.
"I know you're probably freaking out right now." His voice was quiet and calm, as smooth and rich as the coffee in her mouth. Both were very nice. "If you want to leave, you can. But I'd really like it if you'd stayed around, spent the day with me."
He was giving her this small smile; she couldn't help but smile back. He knew her, clearly, and her body felt relaxed like the only way it can after a nice, long fuck.
But still.
"Sure." Placing aside the empty cup, she forced her lips into a wry smile. "Just...do you happen to know where my notebook is?"
After he gave her the book, he left her alone with the trite promise of making breakfast but she knew it was just to give her some small privacy. Opening it, she flipped through the pages littered in scrawl until the last date she could remember.
January 15--Managed to banish the ghost, simple salt and burn. Have to move on, soon; night clerk's giving me one too many weird looks. Current name: Ashley Clements
January 22--Shit, flipped over. The guy that was giving me weird looks (?) tried to gang-bang me. Startled the fuck out of me; nearly took his ear off. Wish I had; he called the cops. Had to pack everything up and bolt. Been laying low the last few days, no chance to check in. Staying at the Motel 6. Current name: Nicole Winters.
January 23--Met a hunter in the bar. His name's Nate, and he's got a job. Shape-shifter, possible hypnosis. What the hell; I need something to do. Current name: Beth Leigh.
She stared at that entry for a long moment. God, what had she been thinking? Skimming over the last three entries, she frowned. Nick and her seemed to be getting along alright, though the job had been a bust so far. The last entry read weird; she sat down with him and told him about the memory thing, showed him the journal. And then the next day she flips back.
It seemed too neat and tidy. So when Nate walked in with another cup of coffee, she had a gun pulled from god-knew-where aimed dead centre at his head.
He didn't seemed too surprised. "You said you'd do that," he told her, calm and patronising.
She snorted. "Bullshit," she said flatly, and pulled the trigger.
Three hours later, after she had found the real Nate and the two of them had dealt with the shape-shifter, she allowed herself another cup of coffee. Damn, but that was some fine coffee. Too bad he'd been planning on killing her; it was the best damn coffee she'd had in a long while.
AN: Written 08.07.12
Found this on my computer. I had written it a while ago, but it needed an ending and reworking.
This story's the first one I wrote where I brought up Liz's memory problem. It doesn't bother her overmuch; she refers to her memory gaps as Side A (the main one) and Side B. She is nothing if not a geek.
The lines at the top are from Where Do I Begin by The Chemical Brothers. I love that song. ^^
Some times, some times things...happen. She loses time, looks at a clock and'll realise that she can't remember what she's been doing for the last three damn days. The only thing she can think of, the only thing that made sense, is that it's something left over from the crash. People don't just wake-up from two week comas and a full-on collision to walk away without some problems.
She dealt with it. In every new dive she crashed in, the first thing to go up was a calender, days carefully crossed off. She always wore a waterproof analog watch with the date inside, kept a notebook with a running commentary of what she was doing.
That didn't make it any less scary when she woke up in a room she damn well knew wasn't hers, naked under the worn cotton sheets.
Sitting up slowly, she couldn't help the slight groan that slipped out, pressing her hands to her head. Her stupid icy fingers helped a little, but not nearly enough. Eyes shut, she forced herself to relax, coaxing the headache to become bearable. It's another thing she's had to learn to deal with; dropping off the fucking grid meant no more prescriptions, no more pills. Slowly, the pain slid away and she opened her eyes again, squinting at the light.
She still didn't know where she was.
"Here." The deep voice startled her; she jumped, leaning on one arm, the other held in front of her. She smelled the coffee before she could see it, rich and savory. Pressing one hand against from her face, she peered up at the man standing over her. He held the cup out like a peace offering.
"Not to sound rude or anything," she croaked, taking the cup. "But who are you, and do you happen to have any excedrin?" She flashed him a smile to take the edge off.
He laughed, nodding. "No offense taken," he assured her, tossing over a small bottle. "I'm Nate. You told me this would probably happen last night, said it'd been awhile since the last time."
It had been awhile. Taking a long, long sip, she hid her nerves and studied him from under her flyaway hair. Brown, streaked with blue; she couldn't be missing too much time, then. Not like that one time when she went to bed with her regular old blonde hair and woke up with a black and red bob and three months of her life missing. That still was one of the more terrifying moments in her life.
Why would she tell him? Sporadic amnesia wasn't the type of thing one told a casual fling.
"I know you're probably freaking out right now." His voice was quiet and calm, as smooth and rich as the coffee in her mouth. Both were very nice. "If you want to leave, you can. But I'd really like it if you'd stayed around, spent the day with me."
He was giving her this small smile; she couldn't help but smile back. He knew her, clearly, and her body felt relaxed like the only way it can after a nice, long fuck.
But still.
"Sure." Placing aside the empty cup, she forced her lips into a wry smile. "Just...do you happen to know where my notebook is?"
After he gave her the book, he left her alone with the trite promise of making breakfast but she knew it was just to give her some small privacy. Opening it, she flipped through the pages littered in scrawl until the last date she could remember.
January 15--Managed to banish the ghost, simple salt and burn. Have to move on, soon; night clerk's giving me one too many weird looks. Current name: Ashley Clements
January 22--Shit, flipped over. The guy that was giving me weird looks (?) tried to gang-bang me. Startled the fuck out of me; nearly took his ear off. Wish I had; he called the cops. Had to pack everything up and bolt. Been laying low the last few days, no chance to check in. Staying at the Motel 6. Current name: Nicole Winters.
January 23--Met a hunter in the bar. His name's Nate, and he's got a job. Shape-shifter, possible hypnosis. What the hell; I need something to do. Current name: Beth Leigh.
She stared at that entry for a long moment. God, what had she been thinking? Skimming over the last three entries, she frowned. Nick and her seemed to be getting along alright, though the job had been a bust so far. The last entry read weird; she sat down with him and told him about the memory thing, showed him the journal. And then the next day she flips back.
It seemed too neat and tidy. So when Nate walked in with another cup of coffee, she had a gun pulled from god-knew-where aimed dead centre at his head.
He didn't seemed too surprised. "You said you'd do that," he told her, calm and patronising.
She snorted. "Bullshit," she said flatly, and pulled the trigger.
Three hours later, after she had found the real Nate and the two of them had dealt with the shape-shifter, she allowed herself another cup of coffee. Damn, but that was some fine coffee. Too bad he'd been planning on killing her; it was the best damn coffee she'd had in a long while.
AN: Written 08.07.12
Found this on my computer. I had written it a while ago, but it needed an ending and reworking.
This story's the first one I wrote where I brought up Liz's memory problem. It doesn't bother her overmuch; she refers to her memory gaps as Side A (the main one) and Side B. She is nothing if not a geek.
The lines at the top are from Where Do I Begin by The Chemical Brothers. I love that song. ^^