Please note: I actually wrote this one. <gryn>

A bit of Pendrell angst. He wouldn't stop talking to me til I wrote 
this down.

Spoilers: Tempus Fugit-4th season

Categories: V,A Rate? PG, for drunkeness if nothing else. 

I'm really nervous about this, so feedback accepted at 
reevesl@pilot.msu.edu. Flames used to roast marshmallows, and 
constructive criticism welcomed.

Thanks to those who beta read this baby, and especially to Hindy for 
nitpicking my grammer. ;-)

Choices Made, 1/1
by Lisa Reeves

So what's a guy like me doing in a place like this?

Damned if I know. Somehow, it seemed the thing to do at the time. 

And sitting there, across the bar is one of the reasons that I'm here.
Dana. No, I'd never call her that to her face...not that much nerve.
Who do I think I am?

A friend of mine once upon a time had a theory. He said there were
three types of people in life. The first kind....if you were walking
down a street, and someone started shooting in their direction, you'd
try to knock them down. You might succeed, you might not. You might
get shot yourself in the process. These people were mostly strangers,
and you may end up regretting that you saved them, or tried. 

The second kind...if you found out that they were scheduled to go in
front of an executioner, and take a bullet, you'd step in for them.
Yeah, you might have to think about it for awhile, but you'd do it.
These are mostly your family, your friends, the people you love.

Then there's the third kind of person. Those....they're the worst.
They're the ones who could make you buy a ticket for Amtrak, buy a
ticket for a seat, and pay extra money to have that seat placed
solidly in the middle of the tracks 10 minutes before the next express
comes through. And you'd sit there, reading a magazine and sipping
your coffee, waiting for the impact. Just to save them the pain. 

She's one of those, you know. Oh, I'll never tell her...I think she
guesses, at least a bit. She thinks it's a crush, puppy love. So much
the better...if she ever knew what I really feel...well, let's not go
there.

Headed my way, and it's so easy to say the words, with the booze as a
buffer. 

"Hey, birthday girl...."

Crossing the bar, drinks in hand. Who's the guy she's with? Is he
worth her? 

Who are you kidding....like she'd let you tell her if he wasn't. 

Get down? What? A gun....NOOOOO! Not her. 

It's simple, really. A turn, and a step. In front of the bullet.

And now she looks at me, in death, as she wouldn't in life. 

Waitaminute....I'm not dead yet.

Am I?

<end>


Lisa Reeves     @-->--->---         |  ad483@detroit.freenet.org
  GDFN Help Staff Co-Administrator  |  reevesl@pilot.msu.edu
                    * Gossamer US *   * Gossamer Australia * 
      http://gossamer.simplenet.com   http://sa.iinet.net.au/gossamer/