Disclaimer: As of the last time I checked, I didn't own LXG, and for some odd reason I don't that's really changed all that much. I own the OC and the rather lame plot, that's about it.
I think for some strange, twisted reason, this came from my mind after reading Clez's Silver Bullet and falling in love with the character Anise and the way she was developed. Brilliant, brilliant author, and you should check out her stuff if you like LXG and ER.
Toys of the Subconscious
Tom Sawyer lay in his bed aboard the Nautilus, deeply engrossed the blissful world of dreams.
Tom was sitting in a room, somewhere back in America, reading a mandate on the new, recently issued Winchester rifles. It was fascinating, really, and Tom was thoroughly engrossed with the material.
A light tap sounded at the door, shaking him out of the passive trance his concentration had put him in. Tom looked up reluctantly, not wanting to abandon his reading just yet.
"Come in," he said begrudgingly. The door opened slowly, and a figure clad all in black emerged in the scenery of the small, cluttered room.
Tom looked up, intrigued. The figure bore no signs of color in terms of wardrobe, but instead was covered in black, specifically, a long black hooded cloak that shaded the person's eyes.
The figure lifted one hand and pushed the hood back, revealing a feminine face that Tom had become quite accustomed to seeing. He smiled, a playful grin appearing on his youthful face as she tucked a piece of stray light brown hair behind an ear. Tom noticed briefly that there were red highlights accenting certain areas on her head.
"You..."
The woman smirked lightly, her startling green eyes boring into Tom's paler ones. She shrugged off her cloak to reveal the remainder of her attire which was also black. She wore a leather corset which cut low, revealing a unblemished neck and chest. Her shoulders were covered by a short jacket of similar material, covering a scar that Tom knew to be there. A dark red stone sat in the hollow of her collarbone, strung on a thin black strand on fabric. What struck Tom the most, however, was the pants she was wearing. It was considered unsightly of the time for a woman to be seen in public in anything other than the long, plain skirts that were the mode. He supposed that her line of work allowed for such a change, as venturing on missions for glory and country did not accommodate loose, flowing skirts.
He knew her, of that much he was certain. She fought along side him in the Secret Service, one of the few women who took on such a challenge. From what Tom had seen, she was very skilled with a gun, but had a tendency to fire recklessly. What he did not know, however, was who she was.
She stepped further inside the room, moving slowly toward Tom, who was now completely disengaged from the papers in front of him. He stood slowly and moved to meet her, a bit cautiously, as her motives were yet unknown. If there was one thing that Tom had learned in all his years, it was to never assume anything about anybody, no matter what the circumstance.
The two met by the bed. A moment ensued during which they did naught but stare into each other's eyes, each trying to detect the other's desires.
The atmosphere changed quickly, however, as the woman wrapped her arms around the boy and pulled him into her. Their lips crashed together in a flurry of requited passion and Tom felt something he had never felt before. Their tongues found each other's mouths, deepening the kiss, and began to explore every crevice, every little area.
Tom moved to remove her jacket, which she allowed, and tossed it aside onto the desk, scattering the papers that he had been so engaged in only moments before. The papers floated to the floor as his hands ran over the bare skin of her arms and shoulders. His fingers found the stone on the necklace, which he fondled for a moment in curiosity as his vest was removed and white shirt unbuttoned.
He released the stone in order to slip off his shirt, which found its way onto the floor in a heap. The woman placed a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him even closer as the pair worked their way nearer to the bed.
She pressed him down on the rumpled sheets, the weight of her body pressing comfortably against Tom's. Tom broke away from the kiss and gazed into her eyes, trying to figure out what she was about. Unsuccessful, he moved to kiss her again, only to be denied.
The woman smirked coyly and removed herself from on top of Tom. He looked at her, confused, as she proceeded to pick up her jacket and slip it back on. She turned back to the bed, where Tom had sat up and was watching her with a perplexed look on his youthful face. She simpered again before turning on one heel and wheeling out the door. Tom was left staring bewilderedly after her.
Tom awoke shortly after in his cabin in the Nautilus, feeling dejected. It wasn't the first time he had had that particular dream, nor did he suspect it would be the last. After all, it hadn't entirely been a dream. It had happened, a number of years ago, but it had happened none the less.
If only he knew who she was...
Here's the deal. This can either be a oneshot or be expanded into a full length story with no definitive plot as of now. Tell me what you think, and if enough people want it expanded, I'll do it.