Jesus Christ.

Ana, you've truly reached new depths of desperation. You might as well be hanging around outside of his fucking locker between classes.

Ana struggled perilously with a thread that dangled from the hem of her only non-monochromatic item of clothing - a dark purple skirt that actually stopped about an inch and a half above her knees, unheard of from the likes of her. She wondered as she pulled at the never ending piece of thread if the skirt was going to just fall apart around her ankles from her efforts.

While the skirt she'd bravely chosen to wear hovered above her knees, she still hadn't quite grown the balls to go without her black tights beneath the risque piece of clothing. But she had purchased nude-coloured nylons for the first time since she could remember.

She hadn't popped into the drugstore around the corner from her apartment for anything other than the necessities in a long time necessities usually went along the lines of migraine medication, feminine hygiene products, and the occasional family-sized bag of oatmeal raisin cookies. Standing in the huge, brightly lit aisle that housed everything from cosmetics to diet pills which she slowed for as she passed to hair products to strange appliances you were apparently supposed to strap to your face to melt the wrinkled skin off your skull she could only assume, Ana felt really out of touch with the Land of Girl. It was like all this stuff was happening and Ana had been circling the planet in a satellite, never close enough to see how time was making its changes.

Despite the sensory overload, Ana managed to become intrigued by a pair of control top pantyhose as well as a strange product in a can called Pairfection which was apparently some sort of airbrushing for your legs in lieu of wearing nylons. Ana weighed the pros and cons of both, her hands dipping and raising unconsciously with the weight of the two choices in her hands.

Airbrushed legs could almost guarantee she wouldn't be spending the next couple of hours either not having the ability to take deep breaths or not having to constantly pull 'controlling' fabric out of her ass and crotch. She wouldn't have to worry about getting a run or pinch as the result of an inevitable act of clumsiness.

However, would her perfectly bronzed legs end up in a puddle inside her shoes if it started to rain? Plus she'd never even been able to bring herself to eat cheese from a can, so body parts might be too much of a leap for her right now.

Pantyhose could act as a barrier between her thighs. A definite safety precaution. She couldn't guarantee a fire wouldn't break out from her thighs rubbing together during the walk over here.

Pantyhose also came with control-top-thigh-slimming-bump-smoothing-ass-narrowing-long-leg-making action.

Right. Pantyhose it is.

She pulled on an old concert tee and a black v-neck sweater then proceeded to bounce off almost every piece of furniture in her room trying to pull the pantyhose up and over her hips. Once she had her skirt on she examined herself probably a little too thoroughly in the bathroom mirror, finally deciding that the next time she'd wear pantyhose would be when they invented control top-to-bottoms.

However, not to trash a not entirely bad thing, Ana did make the decision to wear her black tights on top of the nylons.

In my dreams

I'll catch you
Into my arms

I'll catch you
Do you mind

If I always love you?

Ana wondered if twenty-four hours was enough time to leave before making an attempt to see Jet again without looking creepy. She had made sure to arm herself with some bits of information regarding the movie she'd acquired through dozens of furiously made phone calls that she hoped he might find useful. And if he didn't find them useful, at least she would still have successfully feigned a reason for coming all this way. She'd mentally remarked the location of the dock she'd dropped him and Spike off at yesterday, saying it over and over several times to herself once they'd said their good-byes until she could get her hands on a pen and some paper to write it down with.

And here she was finally, scrubbed and scraped clean and in her finest fineries well... and ready to approach the ship. She circled the helm several times trying to figure out how the hell one was supposed to actually get on a fishing vessel but luckily she spotted someone walking away from the ship and across the dock back towards the street. She walked briskly towards her and called out.

"Hey!"

The person seemed to speed up at the sound of her voice, but Ana figured her self-deprecating nature had finally managed to poison every last thought in her head to make her believe not a single person wanted to have anything to do with her. She snickered to herself and then stopped abruptly when she noticed the long red curls that spiraled down the stranger's back and bounced with every step. A woman. A thin woman with hips that rolled as she walked -- ran now -- east towards the strip before losing herself in the crowd of tourists that packed that area every weekend, even so late in the year.

Shit.

Thoughts raced through her head at lightening speed. Each of them feeling like lightening, too, striking different internal organs as they moved through her system. He has a girlfriend. I've read all these signals incorrectly. He was just being friendly. They're always just being friendly. I don't want any friends. I don't want to be one of the guys anymore. This was a mistake. An awful mistake.

Ana took off her glasses and cleaned them with one of her sleeves. She hadn't taken a step but she stumbled nonetheless, her ankle rolling onto its side. She crouched down, still rubbing her sleeve over the same lense over and over again. She tried to get her bearings back. She didn't want to start crying again. Before the near-incident at the hospital, she hadn't cried since she was a child.

Twice in twenty-four hours. She'd really fallen hard for this guy.

She didn't even blink when her date for the prom ended up ditching her at an after-party to have sex with the girl who'd refused him when he asked her before Ana. She didn't get upset because she'd been expecting it. She was always expecting it. But she didn't expect it from Jet. Jet was so nice. A gentleman even. And she hadn't thought there were any of those left, figuring they'd all been buried beneath the rubble of Earth after the gate accident.

He was a nice guy. This was all her fault. She'd made the mistake of letting down her defenses. She should have known he was just being nice. It's just that guys weren't all that nice to her so she'd figured...well...

I'm such an idiot.

She stood and brushed the bits of sand and gravel from the knees of her tights with one hand, replacing her glasses with the other. When she looked up, wondering what she was going to do with the rest of her very long evening, Jet was settling himself on a crate he'd brought out onto the deck. He had a cigarette clamped between his lips and Ana chuckled sourly to herself. Post-coital cigarette, anyone?

He finally looked up after a long and very audible sigh and his eyes widened. And then his smile did.

"It's good to see you." He said. "Let's go grab something to eat, huh?"

Ana didn't move. She should have learned a lesson just now. She had learned a lesson, hadn't she?

Jet approached her, tucking the unlit cigarette from between his lips into his pocket. He offered her his arm. She took it.

"That's a nice skirt." He said quietly. Ana suddenly felt three inches taller and twenty pounds lighter. Light enough to float.

She'd never been that fast a learner, anyways.

If you go
I won't cry
Though the good is gone
From the word goodbye

If you go
I'll understand
Leave me just enough love
To fill up my hand

"This is new."

"Hm?" Spike stirred from his half-sleep. Faye was happy when he didn't immediately try to shuck his body from hers on awakening as he had that first time they'd woken up together.

That first time together she remembered she had pretended to be sleeping, although that was a bit of a stretch since he had to practically roll her body off his mattress to free himself. He'd pulled his arm out from under her, cursing in whispers, then swiftly grabbed up a couple of towels from under the pile of greasy work clothes packed in the small space between his nightstand and his bed, again tipping the mattress enough that she'd have to be dead not to notice, before stumbling from the room like he was leaving the scene of the crime.

But this time she had felt his fingers squeeze her shoulder as though to be certain she was still there. In fact, to be certain she was still there and staying there.

She had been awake for some time. She knew she should probably be getting the two of them up and dressed and ready to go but she felt so warm and happy.

And frightened out of her fucking mind.

She wondered what would happen when they were back on the ship. She knew she could die from just one more withering look from him. Those eyes could be dark and warm and rich like brandy but when you drank them in the wrong way they'd burn your insides and leave your throat raw like exposed wounds.

Those were the times his eyes were just dark. Like space. And Faye still didn't feel as though she knew a helluva lot about either.

"This is new."

"Hm?"

"This mark."

"What mark." Not a question. The statement neither lead nor followed by oxygen. He knew what mark she was talking about.

"This one on your chest." Her finger prodded at it gently. She heard him draw the smallest sharpest breath.

"I've had it for ages."

"How did you do it?" She knew it was new. She didn't remember it from the last time they were together. And she remembered everything about that. Even before she'd ever wanted to.

"I was smoking in bed. I fell asleep." He replied.

"And you accidentally tried to screw the burning end of a cigarette into your chest?" She tried to joke. He didn't make a sound. Faye pressed her hand over it protectively. Her lips brushed gently over his heart but it wasn't the right time to kiss him. She could feel his skin tighten beneath her own. Like water over rocks.

"It still hurts you."

Spike was quiet for a moment. Like he was thinking about it.

"No. It doesn't."

Somehow she sensed they weren't talking about the same thing anymore.

Lyrics from Thievery Corporation's Heaven's Gonna Burn Your Eyes and If You Go Away - Ne Me Quitte Pas twenty thousand versions of this song, french and english, composed by Jacques Brel and Rod McKuen...lately I've really been enjoying the version Emiliana Torrini does. I love you. ssg.x.