Rewritten.

So, that little blurb of fanfic you got last post. It's been revamped. This way I can actually have a reason for the Doctor to show back up. That's right. I didn't have a reason before, but now I do. I'm so cool. Enjoy. Also, my computer has been destroyed, I don't know if I mentioned that or not, but the hard drive is gone, and I've lost everything. That's right, everything. Including the stories you all know and love. All I have left of them is what's been posted on the blog. Which isn't much considering my brilliant WTF moment is now obliterated. Such brilliant writing, lost to a **** virus. The chapter I was working on for Perfect Strangers is lost, and I don't remember what I wrote, which means I have to start all over again. I hate my life. I really truly hate it right now. If I can't recover my system, I'm going to cry. Branded was saved on there, and that's the only place it's been. I had it on a jump drive, but my mom used that and deleted all my files off of it to make room for hers. Didn't think to save them in an alternate location either. I hate my life. I said that already, didn't I? Yes, well I'll say it again. I HATE MY LIFE RIGHT NOW.  Anyway, please enjoy this little story, even if you don't watch Doctor Who. If you do, power to the Whovians. That is all.

There were times when I would sit and aimlessly watch the stars, contemplating the possibilities of life on other planets, and hope to one day learn for myself that humans weren’t the only ones out there.

I shifted on the branch of the tree I had parked myself in, watching the stars through the gap in the branches. I came out here every night, much to the displeasure of my now ex-boyfriend. He told me I spent too much time contemplating the stars, and not enough time grounded in reality. What did he know? I knew there was something more out there. I had met one once—an alien—or at least, that’s what my seven-year-old brain told me he was. When I was a young girl, my family moved to London. Late on Christmas Eve of my seventh year, I heard a noise from downstairs, and clamored out of bed. I was going to catch Santa in my house. Quietly, I crept down the stairs, stopping before I reached the last step. I held my breath as I peeked around the corner to look at the tree, and there standing in front of it was a man. Not robust and white-haired like I had pictured Santa from all of the pictures, no this man was tall and skinny with wild brown hair. As if he knew I was there, he turned to look at me, fixed his red bowtie and smiled.

“’Ello,” he said quietly.

“You’re not Santa,” I told him, glaring up at him.

“And you’re not English. We’re even,” he smiled, bending down to look me in the eye. “I’m the Doctor.”

“I’m not sick, I don’t need a doctor.”

He smiled again. “You will someday,”

Patting me on the head, he smiled again, the way grownups do when they know something important, and turned away. Stopping in front of an enormous blue box, he turned and said very quietly,

“We’ll meet again someday, Lilith Mason.”

He closed the door, and the noise began. The noise I’d never forget.

Often I had pondered the meaning of his words, and what he meant by telling me one day I’d need a doctor. I had gotten sick plenty of times since then, and not once had my doctor been that man. As I child, even up into my early teenage years, I had been sure to ask if that man worked in their facility. I would describe him in perfect detail, exactly as I remembered him from that night. Each time I asked, I received the same answer. No. My mother insisted he was nothing more than imaginary friend, and in time, I believed her. But what kind of imaginary friend only shows up once and vanishes cryptically in a big blue box? Mine, it seemed. That’s when I started watching the stars. Somewhere deep inside me I knew I hadn’t imagined him. He was real, and he had come from somewhere. He wasn’t an imaginary friend, he was an alien. But now, sitting here, I wondered, had I imagined that encounter thirteen years ago? Ruined my social life in obsessing over life on other planets for someone who didn’t exist? Perhaps.

A bright flash in the sky caught my attention, pulling me away from my thoughts.  A falling star blazed across the sky, plummeting to the edges of the universe. Give me proof, I wished, squeezing my eyes shut. I didn’t need little green men, or Jabba the Hutt, just some proof there was life out there. When I opened my eyes again, the star was still falling, but it wasn’t falling across the sky. It was coming straight for me. Panic and excitement coursed through my veins, locking me into place. I watched in complete rapture as the flaming star crashed to earth, but something seemed wrong. This star had a shape, a solid and very large shape. It was enormous. A… spaceship.

The shockwave from the crash knocked me out of the tree, leaving me sprawled on the ground with light dotting my vision. There was a roaring in my ears; the sound of raging fire, and then it was suddenly gone. Slowly, I sat up, clutching the sides of my head to stop the nausea from setting in. The world tilted, and nothing seemed right. Blurry figures approached me from the distance. I suddenly felt sick, curling over with my hand on my stomach I gasped for air, hoping to make the feeling leave me. I felt bile rise in the back of my throat.

“Adrastaeia,” A voice hissed in the darkness. I felt cold arms lift me from the ground, and then everything went black.

Bored.

Have a random Doctor Who fanfic that's only just beginning.

There were times when I would sit and aimlessly watch the stars, contemplating the possibilities of life on other planets, and hope to one day learn for myself that humans weren’t the only ones out there. That’s when I heard it. The sound that changed my life.

I had been sitting in the park, well past curfew, in a tree watching the stars in the sky. I came out here every night, much to the displeasure of my now ex-boyfriend. He told me I spent too much time contemplating the stars, and not enough time grounded in reality. What did he know? I knew there was something more out there. I had met one once—an alien. When I was a young girl, my family moved to London. Late on Christmas Eve of my seventh year, I heard a noise from downstairs, and clamored out of bed. I was going to catch Santa in my house. Quietly, I crept down the stairs, stopping before I reached the last step. I held my breath as I peeked around the corner to look at the tree, and there standing in front of it was a man. Not robust and white-haired like I had pictured Santa from all of the pictures, no this man was tall and skinny with wild brown hair. As if he knew I were there, he turned to look at me, fixed his small red bowtie and smiled.

“’Ello,” he said quietly.

“You’re not Santa,” I told him, glaring up at him.

“And you’re not English. We’re even,” he smiled, bending down to look me in the eye. “I’m the Doctor.”

“I’m not sick, I don’t need a doctor.”

He smiled again. “You will someday,”

Patting me on the head, he smiled again, the way grownups do when they know something important, and turned away. Stopping in front of an enormous blue box, he turned and said very quietly,

“We’ll meet again someday, Lilith Mason.”

He closed the door, and the noise began. The noise I’d never forget.

And now, here I was, thirteen years later hearing the noise of my childhood. My heart started pounding; where was it coming from? Twisting myself around on the branch I sat on, I nearly toppled out of the tree. There on the far end of the park I could faintly see a glowing blue light, fading in and out of view with the sound. Quickly I scrambled out of the tree, gathering my bag I had left at the base of the trunk and threw it over my shoulder. The crisp mid-autumn air burned my lungs as I raced across the park toward the box.

Standing at the edge of the park, quite out of place was the huge blue police box I remembered. The memories of that night never left me, and his words hadn’t either. Often I had asked myself what he meant by telling me that one day I would need a doctor. What was going to happen to me? So far as I knew he was the only non-human I had ever encountered, and thus, the only one in existence, right? My legs locked up, halting me in mid run. What was I doing? I didn’t know this stranger. How had he gotten into my house so many years ago with this blue box, and only I knew he was there? The box was still a good thirty yards away, when a bright light filtered through the doorway, and the silhouette of a man appeared.

“Lilith Mason, we meet again,” it said. It was the same voice. The same man from all those years ago. “Although, I hadn’t planned on meeting you in a park at three am.”

“I hadn’t planned on meeting you at all.” I replied.

“Always positive, that’s what I like about you. Although, your sarcasm has improved quite a bit.”

He stepped out of the box, approaching me slowly. At first I was tempted to run, to get away, but something inside of me longed to stay, to experience the unfamiliar. When he was close enough, my jaw dropped. He hadn’t aged a day in thirteen years.

Bandwagoning

I caved and hopped on the bandwagon that is Tumblr. It's like twitter.... meets facebook... meets blogger. It's a microblogging site, and I'm still getting a feel for it, but I think I'll be posting my art and such there. This will remain my story place because Tumblr has a very limited space for large text posts. It's more of a quick update share pictures sort of place. But if you want to stalk me on the everyday side of things, stuff that doesn't go on facebook, or here, feel free to poke around on my tumblr. It's doctors-girl.tumblr.com.

Well, I promised you an update with Perfect Strangers, so here it is. Not as long as usual, but I kinda hit a roadblock there at the end of the chapter. I couldn't remember for the life of myself where I wanted to go with that. But, I'm working through it, and I promise that I'll get going on the next chapter again soon. School is putting a real damper on my writing time. And every time I get on the computer I seem to get distracted by Doctor Who, so..... yeah.

Enjoy.

Chapter Twenty Five

I looked at Stitch, the voice wasn't his either. I knew his voice, and had—still not sure why—heard his voice in my head before, and this one was different. It was definitely masculine, but not one I recognized. Who did it belong to? Stitch's finger was still under my chin, and he was looking at me more intensely now. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks as his free hand slipped around my waist and pulled me into him. Everything about the feel of his body against mine felt right, familiar, comfortable, but I hadn't a clue why. Only people who had been together for years felt like this. I had only known him for a month, there was no reason for me to be feeling like this. My thoughts were scrambled when I felt Stitch's lips against mine. My body ignited in a frenzy of feelings, my mind raced, and I felt gravity tilt again. I moved closer to him, pressing myself against his lean hard muscles, reveling in the sensation of it all. His hand moved to the back of my neck, gathering my damp hair into his hand. It felt like time had stopped when he kissed me, and I could have been standing like that with him for an eternity, and when he released me, I came crashing back into the present. Our breath mingled in the air between us, his forehead against mine, staring into each other's eyes.

“Do you remember now?” he whispered.

“Remember last night? No, but I'm sure if we go at it again, I'll remember.” I joked, giggling.

He sighed, his shoulders dropping. He turned away from me, stepping across the room. “I don't understand. This never happens.” he muttered to himself.

I stared at his back, feeling guilty for ruining the moment. He continued to speak quietly to himself, so low I could hardly hear what he was saying. I glanced at myself in the mirror. My hair had started to frizz. Stitch didn't notice me leave the room and grab the moose from my bathroom; quickly I ran the product through my hair, defining my curls, and eliminating the frizz—for the most part. When I came back, Stitch was sitting on my bed, staring at the doorway.

“Nothing? Really, you don't remember?” he asked, sounding suddenly weary.

“Remember what, Stitch?” He was starting to worry me.

He sighed, and whispered so low I had to strain to hear it. “Us...”

Sitting down at my dresser, I began to do my makeup, and in an attempt to change the subject, I asked, “This morning Kitty called me, Laelais.” I watched his head jerk up, his eyes wide, staring at me. “Do you know where she heard that name?”

He sighed again. “No,”

“It startled me when she said it.”

“Why?” Suddenly he sounded hopeful. His mood swings were frightening me.

“I've been having these... dreams since I moved to England. In every dream, I'm not addressed as Laela, well sometimes it's a variation of my name, but I'm also called Laelais, but only by...”

“By?” he pressed, his eyes twinkling.

“By you. Except your name isn't Stitch either... It's Everard. Which is a weird name if you ask me.” I waved my blush brush in the air.

He was silent for a long time. “When did these dreams start?” he asked.

“When you gave me that necklace, why?”

“No reason; we should get out to the guest house, we can't make the others wait forever.” he said, standing up so abruptly, I felt as if I had whiplash.

“Oh, uh, yeah...” I said stupidly, finishing my make up.

Together, the two of us went to the guest house, and found everyone sitting in the living room watching tv without a care in the world. Cam lounged on the couch, spreading himself lazily and making room for no one. When we entered the room, everyone looked up, and Cam automatically stiffened upon seeing Stitch. I wondered what had happened after I left the room the other day; Cam seemed extremely on edge. His eyes narrowed into a glare and the room chilled. My skin tingled as goosebumps crawled up my arms. A strange sensation washed over me, making my insides feel like they were on fire for a moment, but then it was gone. I felt as if someone had done something to physically alter the environment around me, I could sense that something had just happened, but didn't know what it was. I glanced quickly around the room to find the source of my unease, but couldn't find any.

“You okay, Laela?” Cam asked.

“Oh,” I gasped. The disturbance was suddenly clear. It had come from Cam, I knew it. I could feel it. But what was it? “I'm fine, yes. Sorry.”

“Don't apologize, there's no need.” He smiled, and then Stitch moved out of the corner of my eye. “What's the plan?”

Smiling, I pushed the strange feeling to the back of my mind and focused on the present. “We're going to one of my favorite places that hasn't been completely destroyed by what happened with Tony. I've always loved going there, ever since I was little. You actually get to go to two of my favorite places today. So, without further adieu, let's go.”

I turned and left the house, heading straight for the garage. Luckily, my car was big enough for all five of us. When we entered the garage, Stitch smiled, eying my car under the tarp. I stepped up to it, turning to face the others.

“This, while it isn't really a place, per say, is one of my favorite places to be. It's my escape from the everyday.” I pulled the tarp off as if revealing an ancient treasure.

As expected, the boys lit up instantly, and babbled loudly about how amazing the car was, and how jealous of me they were. They approached it quickly, Stitch staying at a distance since the car hadn't proved such a joy the second time, hovering over the car, but never touching it. Kitty smiled and admired it from a distance, standing by Stitch's side. While the boys admired the car, I slipped around to the drivers side and stepped in. With this, the others quickly piled in, Cam fighting—and winning—for the front seat. Jay Kitty and Stitch slipped into the back. When the engine roared, Cam and Jay shivered, smiles creeping across their faces.

“Jay, you act like it's Christmas,” Kitty said, staring at her boyfriend with a look of concern. “It's just a car.”

“It's not just any car, Kitty. This is a 1969 Dodge Charger. Classic muscle cars of America, and this one seems to be in prefect working condition. It's a collector's item Kitty. This—this is like sitting on a deposit of gold.” he said, breathlessly. “I can die happy now.”

 “This is all it takes to make you happy enough to die? Jay, that's sad.”

I giggled; those two were just so cute. As I watched them through the rearview mirror, I caught Stitch's eye. He smiled and winked at me making my heart flutter. Though not the quietest drive, Cam asked where we were going at least twenty times, I enjoyed sharing it with my friends. We rolled up to the gate, after having driven well into the more lush parts of the area, and I handed the gate keeper a five dollar bill.

“Welcome to the Loxahatchee National Wildlife Refuge.” I said. “I know you guys probably think this is a weird place to consider one of your favorites, but I love just being out in nature and having a good time! My family used to come here every weekend. There was always something new to see.”

I parked the car, and we all stepped out.

“I'm going to get eaten alive.” Kitty said, her voice was flat, clearly unamused. “You didn't tell me I needed to wear sleeves.”

I glanced back at her. She was wearing a bright purple halter and white shorts with gladiator sandals. She had a point. I probably should have warned her. I smiled apologetically, it seemed like all I could do at this point, and then tossed her the bug spray. I wasn't dressed much better, but I had been here so many times, it didn't seem any different to me. Giving them a second to douse themselves in bug spray, I practically skipped off into the lush trail, humming to myself. I took in a deep breath, and my whole body felt reguvinated as if the air had cleared away all the awful feelings and confusion. I had clarity of mind, and suddenly I realized something. The air felt... tangible. Like I could reach out and grab it. I stopped in my tracks, staring at the path ahead of me, expecting to be able to see the air, but I couldn't. I spun in a circle, nearly toppling to the ground, trying to figure out what was different. Nothing looked like it had changed. Sure, it was humid, but it was always humid. I had grown up in it, I was used to humidity. But why did this feel different?

The others had stopped behind me a few steps, staring at me strangely.

“Is this what you come here to do?” Jay asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

The looks from the others were different.

They looked at me as if they knew what was happening. What I was feeling. Why I was feeling this way, and I wanted to know too.

Did someone call for a Doctor?

So...... I'm a complete nerd.  I love Doctor Who. I will marry the Doctor if given the chance. I'm not even lying. I mean who wouldn't want to go on all those crazy wonderful adventures!? I most certainly would. And so, I have nerded out my computer. I've now got a Doctor Who slideshow desktop, my login sound is the Doctor Who theme, and when I log off, my computer plays the TARDIS noise, and that's not all. When I shut it down, it's the doctor saying, "Anyway, come on, allons-y." Thats how nerdy I am.

Here's the best part.

Yesterday, I was watching Doctor Who pretty much all day, when after the home teachers left, Zenna grabs me and shoves her phone in my face and is all, "Alex, this text message isn't from this month." I looked at the screen, and sure enough, the time stamp said 11:30 pm December 6. The best part was the year. 2019. That's right, Zenna got a text from the future, and I have blog views from the past. Mine are from the 31st of December 1969.

I could only think one thing.

The Doctor is coming.

I'm getting on that TARDIS and not looking back.

As for Perfect Strangers, the next chapter is coming, I promise.... I've been writing lots of papers.

ALSO CASTLE STARTS TONIGHT!!!! HECK YES BABY!

What to do if You Become Suddenly Bored

Step 1: Go upstairs and get some food. A granola bar will suffice.

Step 2: Try, and fail, to read When Jesus Came, Corn Mothers Left for your history class.

Step 3: Play Sims Social on Facebook for an hour.

Step 4: Repeat step 2.

Step 5: Repeat step 3 and 4.

Step 6: Stop trying to read the book, put it off till tomorrow, and begin writing.

So more out of boredom than anything else, as you can see by my list of steps above, I decided that I wanted to write some snippets to music like we did in Mr. Park's creative writing class. Soooo I pulled up itunes and went to my soundtracks, hit shuffle, and off I went. Now, I can't put all of them up here because they're huge spoilers for my other stories, but I'll put up what I can. There's one that I wrote to the song Old Souls from the Inception soundtrack for Perfect Strangers (it's a long song, so the thing was like three pages....) that has a huge WTF ALEX?! moment in it, so we're holding that one off. I told Erin about it, and I'll tell you what I told her. When I wrote it I even went wtf. That's how major it is. It's a huge plot twist, but it makes everything make sense. I was proud of myself. Anyway, enough about that. Have some story bits. The song title is above every piece. They're not very long, but I hope you enjoy them anyway.

Escaflone

His feet pounded against the cold cobblestone as he tore down the dark street. Fog licked his heels as his cloak flew behind him, whipping the air, the rush of the material echoeing with his footsteps in the empty alleyway. Directly ahead of him loomed the spire of the chapel, the full moon making it nothing more than a sillouhette on the horizon. He needed to get the book there before they found it. He needed to hide it; it needed to be safe, or all Hell would break loose. Literally. Father Lokai had instructed him to hide the book in the basement of the chapel, there he would find a seal to bind the book to Earth. But it had to happen when the full moon was at it's peak in the night sky. He had only minutes. Just as he cleared the buildings and dashed up the path to the door, he heard the growls. They were catching up to him.

Allegro—Battlestar Galactica

There was something almost otherworldly about the way she danced across the floor. Her feet moved with such grace it seemed as if they never touched the floor, her body moving fluidly, like a river. He watched her curiously from his chair, his eyes roaming over her half exposed figure. She was a rare jewel, and his father had bought her just for him. Dancing into the center of the room, she tossed her head back, black hair falling like a waterfall, her eyes were closed, taking her to another world. He ached for her, though he had only just laid eyes on her. He wanted to feel her body, to touch her skin. He wanted to dance with her, be taken to her world, and never return. She twisted and turned across the floor, making her way around the room, entertaining the several men that sat within the tent. All the while, her eyes remained closed as her body expressed the story of the dance, but then, she turned, knowing exactly where he was, moving toward him. Closer and closer she came until she stopped, her knees touching his, and opened her eyes.

“My lord,” she whispered breathlessly.

Orchsong Age of Wonders

Fog floated around her ankles, a cold wind tickling the back of her neck, chilling the metal collar. On either side of her walked a man, stone faced, and unfeeling. They held chains that connected to the sides of the collar, marching her up the hill. At the top she could see dark figures waiting. They were leading her to her death. She knew it, and they knew it, but she would not be afraid. Like so many of her people before her, she would face death at the hands of the fearful. They couldn't accept her gift, feared it even, and sought to destroy any who possessed it. She would walk the same path as the others, up the steep hill where her accusers waited to see her executed. Reaching the crest of the hill, she felt the spirits of the many who had died before her, their power was strong here.

“Any last words, witch?” Spat a purple-faced townsman.

She raised her chin, peering down at the man through narrowed eyes. “I am not the last.” She said, her eyes clouding over with the Sight. “In years to come, my people will flourish here, and the sight on which we stand now will become a place of refuge for those in need. But the descendants of the villagers now, will forever be cursed, unable to return to this place, even when their lives depend upon it.”

Angered, the men holding her chains forced her to bend to the ancient bloodstained stump, pressing her cheek against the cold wood.

“Rot in Hell with the others.” the executioner growled, dropping the ax onto her neck.

The Funeral—Firefly

She was the last to leave, standing over the grave for hours after the others had gone back to their lives. As much as she wished she could return home, she knew she couldn't. Tears filled her eyes as she bent to the headstone, brushing her fingers across the carved name. Russell C. Lang. Loving husband. 1985-2011.

“You left,” she sobbed. “I can't believe you left me at home! I should have died in that accident with you!” She slammed her fist against the cold stone. “Why not me? I should have died.... I should have died.”

The cold fall air bit at her nose, making her tears feel like ice running down her cheeks, blowing the leaves around her. In the whisper of the wind, she heard his voice, one last time.

Because I love you...

Battlestar Sonatina—Battlestar Galactica

Georgia shuffled across the room in her socks and short silk nightgown. It was two in the morning, but she couldn't sleep. Rarely did she have a hard time sleeping, and if she ever did, it was only for one reason. The nightmares. They kept her awake at night, forcing her to relive the awful memory of the gruesome murder of her best friend Keisha. She hated remembering it. And so, when the nightmares came, she wandered her apartment aimlessly in the dark, until she came to the piano by the window overlooking the city.

She sat down, the polished black wood was cold on her bare legs, the keys chilly beneath her fingers. Quietly she began to play a woeful tune, swaying in time with the music. Closing her eyes, she let the soft sounds take her to a better place, somewhere safe where she could be with her friends, and not worry about having the FBI on her tail. This con on Wall Street was taking all the brain power she had. It was hard enough to convince investors to buy into her “stock,” and now she had to dodge the FBI poking their noses into everyone's business. She had outsmarted the feds before, and then it had only been her and Brittain. Now she had a whole network of people that would be caught before her, and if one so much as disturbed a string on her web, she would cut it off, and rebuild.

A noise behind her startled her, her fingers mashing the keys. She turned around to find Brittain standing near an armchair, his hands running up and down its surface to ensure it was a chair he had just run into, and not something else.

“You know, you are horrible in the dark.” Georgia sighed, turning around on the bench to face him.

He smiled. “You rearranged on me. I hardly think that's fair."

She stood up and walked slowly across the room, taking deliberately quiet steps until she was inches from Brittain. “Life's not fair.”

He started, his hand twitching at the closeness of her voice. “How did you get so close without me hearing?”

“I'm a ninja,” she joked.

He smirked. “Let's see you get out of this then,” he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest. “Mmm. Silk. Nice, any lace?”

“Wouldn't you like to know.” Playfully she twisted herself out of his grasp, his fingertips still lingering on her waist, nearly out of reach. “Don't you wish you could see me now?” She took several large steps, again, careful to make little noise until she reached the hallway. “I'm ninja.”

He turned on his heel toward her voice. “When you can vanish like that around people who can see, we'll call you a ninja. For now, you're a cheater.”

New In Town

Remember when I talked about Georgia and Brittain? Well, now you get to meet them. This is just for fun, they probably won't have a story running on the blog, but if you really want to read this story (whenever I get around to it) leave a comment and I'll email it to you whenever I write more. Anyway, here's the first chapter... or part of it. I drew the two of them, which you can find below the story. Let me know what you think!

Horns blared around her, the drivers of the hundreds of vehicles on the crowded Manhattan street voicing their anger through their horn. Her breath clung to the crisp November air around her; often she wondered why she stayed out at the cafe so long on days like these, but when a tired looking woman sat down at the table nearest her, she remembered. She had a phone pressed to her ear, trying--in vain it seemed--to convince the individual on the other end of her plight. Georgia closed her eyes, drowning out the sounds of the bustling city and listened closely to what the woman was saying.

"You don't understand, Will." she said, sounding desperate. "I need the money to make rent. You told me you'd have the money this month. They're your kids too, and I swear if you don't come through this time, I will take this to court. I knew when you asked the stupid Margaret years ago to marry you, I should have run for the hills, but we're here now, and that's that. I want my money, Will."

Georgia took a long look at the woman. Late twenties, early thirties. Multiple children. Father figure abandons family, promises to pay certain sum in order to continue seeing children. Perhaps something else. Easy target. She was already desperate to make some money. Georgia smiled to herself. When the woman hung up, Georgia made her move. She gathered her things and moved exuberantly to the table where Margaret sat, a smile splitting her face.

"Margaret! I thought I recognized you!" Georgia said, putting on her Southern drawl. "It's been so long, girl! How you been?"

Margaret looked at Georgia, her eyes had dark circles beneath them as if she hadn't slept for days. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked.

"Well of course you do! We only went to grad school togther! It's me, Crissy Henderson!"

Margaret stopped to think, but before she could say anything, Georgia continued. "How are the kids? And Will? Tell me about the family, I want to know everything!"

This was enough to convince Margaret. Poor thing. "A mess. Will's run off chasing some wild dream of his again, and he's using all our money. He told me that he'd have some profit turned up by now, but to tell you the truth, the whole thing is a waste of time. I need some money to pay the rent, but he doesn't seem to have any money. I'm sure he's wasted it all on hookers."

Georgia pouted. "Aww, baby that's too bad. I'm sorry he's such a loser." she sighed. "You said you're short on cash, right?"

"Yes, rent for next month is due at the end of the week."

"How much is rent?"

"Thirty-five hundred a month."

Georgia whistled through her teeth. She started slipping a ring off her finger. Diamond. Or at least, that's what it appeared to be. "This is from an old boyfriend, can't stand the thing anymore. I know you've got rent coming up, but I'll sell you this ring for twenty-five hundred right here. You can take it to a jeweler and get it appraised and sell it for more. It's worth at least thirty thousand."

Margaret stared at the ring. "I couldn't take that from you." she pushed Georgia's hand away, blushing at the thought of accepting the offer.

"I insist girl, you need it more than I do." Take it, you know you want it. Georgia thought to herself.

Margaret reached for her purse. She riffled through everything and extracted her checkbook. Shit, cash is preferred. She wrote out the amount with tears in her eyes. Tearing the paper away she handed it to Georgia, who in turn handed her the fake ring.

"It was nice seeing you, Margaret. I hope we see each other around again." She stood up. "I've got to get back to the office now, but good luck." You'll need it.

Georgia pulled her soft cashmere sweater up around her neck, the soft white of the fabric contrasted sharply with her dark chocolate skin. Glancing around, she put the chekc in her pocket and made her way down the busy street. Waiting at the corner by a pawn shop was a tall man with messy black hair, fiddling with his black and white striped scarf. Georgia approached him quietly, spotting his wallet in his back pocket. It wasn't usually her style to pull such small street heists, but she needed to move her base of operations soon or the feds would be right on her tail. With three feet between her and the man, the perfect oportunity arose. A woman turning the corner quickly, ran into him, causing him to back up into Georgia. Quickly and expertly she dipped her hand in his pocket and extracted the black leather wallet, and turning to leave, she was seized by the wrist.

"I do believe that's my wallet." the man said, his lips pressing together into a tight line. The scruff on his face gave him character, it made him look intimidating, and as he held onto Georgia's wrist, she was intimidated. How had he caught her? "Better luck next time, Georgia."

"You amaze me, Brittain. Nothing gets past you."

He chuckled. "I see everything."

She smiled, though she knew he couldn't see it.

"Even that smile. How much?"

"Twenty-five hundred."

"You sold someone the ring, didn't you?"

"Guilty. We've got a problem though. She wrote a check, so get Monty on that right away."

Georgia began walking, Brittain still holding her wrist as they went.

"Whatever you say boss. The entire underground is at your command."

She smiled, remembering the days when she had started as a mere street scammer. She had moved onto bigger and better things these days, and had plenty of people behind her, all of which were desposable. Her next scam was going to be huge. She would be remembered forever for this one. Her next stop was Wall Street.