FIC: "Choices," 8/?, R/NC17, W/R R/G W/f
- DISCLAIMERS REPOSTED IN PART 0
* * *
Time passed, as it is so apt to do.
Cissy got more and more swollen, and more and more cranky with her
husband. Logan viewed the transformation with a certain alarm not only
had the hot and cold running sex dried up completely, but merely being in
Cisss presence seemed to trigger an argument nowadays.
He still hadnt quite figured out how to react on the occasions when mere
words werent enough to express her ire. He cautiously ascribed it to the
unusual stresses brought on by pregnancy, and naively hoped that after
the baby arrived things could revert to the reasonably comfortable way
they had been before the wedding.
He also kept the habit of wandering off on random evenings. He didnt
fling his infidelities in his wifes face anymore, but she knew what he
was doing anyway. Logan realized that it upset her but then, in recent
months *everything* upset her, and sometimes he just had to escape for a
It was on returning from another of these little sabbaticals that Logan
cautiously entered their shared quarters and found them empty. No Cicely.
[It cant be time already can it?]
Marginally bothered by the fact that he wasnt even sure when his wifes
due date was or more specifically, how close to it whatever day today
was might happen to be Logan wandered down to the lower levels. Just
within earshot of the Medlab, which was quite close enough for him. The
fuss going on within seemed to confirm his suspicions.
[Better make a clean getaway before someone spots me and tries to drag me
in there,] he figured, slipping back up to the ground floor and out of
[A day or two ought to be long enough to get it all over with,] he mused,
leaving the school grounds again.
She Whose Quotations Are Both Exotic and Appropriate
Keeper of his Deadly Startle Reflexes, Guardian and Examiner of the
Adamantium-Revealing X-Rays, and Official Listener for the Occasional
"Mind walking through here, sir?"
"What if I say yes?"
"Then we shoot you with a taser and have your internal cavities searched
by surgeons. Sometimes they're all f#$%ed up on crack when they do the
-- A nameless security guard and Spider Jerusalem, TRANSMETROPOLITAN
#21, by Warren Ellis
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