Just a little series of drabbles (ficlets that are exactly 100 words each). Damn these things are hard to write. I always end up at like 98 words... or 101. >mutters> Don't look for any particular theme... they're pretty much whatever came into my head at the time.

estelswolf - Yeah, they're mostly just little random moments. Some are sorta specific, but not to anything, if you know what I mean. Most could just be anything. And they're pretty much just about character.

Rosebud - Thanks. :) They're fun to write, because there's no sort of plot committment :-P

daizia - Yep, those two were better than the first two, I think. Hopefully these next ones are even better :)

Ghostwriter - Thanks :)

jwmathias - Well, they're not really supposed to be 'whole' per se. They're just little snapshots, and have to be exactly 100 words. They're sort of meant to leave you wondering what's next. Hopefully, these next ones are a bit more 'complete' for you :)

Set 2

"I pulled the trigger, Hanson, and I didn't feel a thing!"

Tom raises his head and meets her eyes. "You do now."

"Not what I should." She falls silent for a moment, and when she speaks again he's taken aback by her tone of voice. "That boy is dead, and I'm not sorry."

"I'm not sure I would be, either." He can see by the look in her eyes that it's both the answer she wanted and the one she dreaded.

"What does that say about us?"

He forces a smile. "I stopped asking myself that a long time ago."

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Doug stares at the tape outline on the floor for a moment before his eyes drift toward a framed photograph hanging on the wall. The girl whose body they just carted out of here smiles back at him in her prom dress, hanging on the arm of a bored-looking guy in a tux.

"I've… been there," he says quietly, shaking his head. For some reason, probably the sight of that empty prescription bottle, he feels compelled to say something – anything. "But I still don't get it."

Harry places a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Somehow, I don't think they do, either."

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"You ever think about high school?"

Hoffs raises an eyebrow at Dennis. "Yeah. It's kinda hard not to."

"No, I don't mean about work and all…" He leans against a filing cabinet and folds his arms across his chest. "When you were in school? You ever think about it now?"

After a moment, she shrugs. "Sometimes, something happens that reminds me." Judy pauses. "Why?"

Booker doesn't answer directly. "Me too. And it all seems different."

"How?"

"Nothing seems so… innocent anymore, y'know?"

She smiles. "I think that's called gaining perspective."

He shakes his head slowly. "More like cynical."

"That too."

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"I'm not really… scared anymore, coach." Tom fights to still his hands. "I don't really know what that means."

"Can be a good thing." Fuller is quiet. "It can also get people killed."

"How do I know which it is?" Hanson doesn't blink.

"You take a good, long look in a mirror," the older man replies after a long pause. "And you figure out if it's because you're willing to die for the job…" he trails off briefly, "Or if it's because you just don't care anymore."

"If it is?"

"Might be time to find a new line of work."