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Lucy Avellino
Kiss From a Desert Rose
Tue Mar 15, 2005 15:58

There used to be a greying tower alone on the sea
You, became the light on the dark side of me
Love remains, a drug that's the high and not the pill
But did you know that when it snows
My eyes become large
And the light that you shine can't be seen?

A fairy tale.


That's exactly what it sounded like. Poor Caleb, he looked so earnest. But what was she supposed to tell him? Sure, honey. You're descended from a fictional detective, and I'm descended from one of the most powerful families in Italy. So what's for dinner? A purely hysterical giggle welled up inside her throat, sat around for a few seconds and then worked its way out. Falling back, she heartlessly took up her half of the bedroom, eyes staring at the ceiling in an effort to quell the instinctive reaction.


Caleb was miserable. She was miserable. Hopefully Rob was miserable too, the rat bastard. Muscles protested as she sat back up, but the urge to check on a certain wound was overwhelming. Despite the words and the kiss, just knowing he'd been shot on her account made her fear doubly for his safety. Hands reached up to tug the grey shirt off, stilling against bare flesh simply to admire the power of a male form before she leaned over and brushed her lips against his newest scar.

"I know everyone thinks I'm this cold, heartless bitch ... thing," she began talking after a little while. "But I'm not like that all the time. Honest. But ... I'm going to ask a self-centered question. Let's pretend I believe this Medici nonsense. Why would anyone want me because of--" Lucy stopped speaking, face waning of color. One hand dropped away from Caleb's bare back to hover over her gut. Well, no one had ever accused the girl of not being clever. "Because ... because I'm a goddamned prize."

Perhaps she was beginning to believe.

Oh sweet Jesus! It was barbaric. Medieval. The world of her ancestors made her want to throw up, or try that hermit thing. Unwilling to cope in a mature fashion, the singer latched onto something else he'd said, skipping subjects like a pebble launched across a pond. "You're still with the CIA?" Blink. Blink. Blinkblink. Wheels that hadn't been put to any use in weeks began to turn, creaking with rust. "So if I left ... it'd be your job to follow or come with, right?"

Lucy slid off the bed and almost fell over, righting herself at the last minute with applied hand pressure to the poor sod's nearest thigh. Actually, despite the really, really dark hair ... Miss Avellino was looking more like herself since .... well, since she'd had to literally run out of a San Franscisco theatre with bad men on her trail. Inching her way between his thighs, tongue caught between her teeth as she worked out something silently, Caleb's obsession (coff) smoothed down his eyebrows with her thumbs until whatever mental argument had been completed.

"I want out of here. I want sun and not as much snow and things to do ... and I don't want to you get shot again." Lucy paused, leaning forward to cradle her cheek against his forehead. "I want Robert's number ... he's too clever not to give it to you." Ice Princess Gaze of Death at half a foot. When that didn't work, she used dirty tactics. Very dirty, involving the placement of many soft kisses across naked flesh until her husband had no choice but to remove several layers of clothing and put a big smile on the imp's face.

She still went through his wallet and called 'Bob Flower, MD' later that evening.

Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey
Ooh, the more I get of you, the stranger it feels yeah
Now that your rose is in bloom
A light hits the gloom on the grey

The City Different sure was different.

Lucy eyed the thoroughfare outside her new home, shading still-brown eyes against the heat of the noon sun. The street they now lived off of was called Paseo de Peralta, or Peralta Road. Not half a block away was a huge white cross on the hill, suitably named Cross of the Martyrs, erected in memory of almost two dozen priests killed during the 1680 Pueblo Revolt. The center of town, the Plaza, was only three blocks in the other direction.

It had taken almost a month to extract the Nolans from Fargo. Using the pretext of Frankie's ailing mother, the newlyweds had packed up and moved back to Florida. Both had assured their new friends they would write -- hell, Lucy had spent the better part of one morning in another safehouse doing just that! Scrawled messages on postcards to be mailed off when next an agent found himself in Miami.

And now the Nolans were dead and buried, likenesses given yet another set of names to remember. It took her a minute to remember her new alias, and when she did, the girl remembered the malicious grin on Robert's face when he had handed over her new purse. Not all of the good guys were on the same team, apparently.

Alexandra Nero.

Twenty-one. Spoiled. Living on her own in a town with a man she wasn't married to. That's right. Apparently the Agency figured that having Caleb and Lucy pose as husband and wife was getting a bit ridiculous. So what had they done? Why, shred all of her religious views on the concept of living together with a man outside the bonds of matrimony. She doubted she would ever forgive the bastard for this. Caleb was now posing as her older boyfriend Simon Halifax, an analyst from ... Maine, of all places.

How had her lover remained true to his core all those years under an assumed name? Barely four months into the Program, and Lucy was beginning to feel slightly unhinged. No, seriously. The stress had gotten so bad that she'd been vomiting every morning for the past week, taking great care to make sure Caleb knew nothing about it. Pretty annoying, especially when all those heroines in the damn romance novels always had their shit together. The thought made her giggle -- why couldn't Lucy be a bright, funny, exceedingly clever, ravishingly beautiful female MacGyver? Duh. She lived in reality.


Georgia O'Keefe, Keefe for short, strolled up to sit in the doorway beside Lucy. All orange fur and enchanting green eyes, the cat had crossed paths with her outside a gallery featuring work by the famous artist. The Italian had spent over an hour trying to find the feline's owner, met with no success and had brought the creature home. She ran her fingers gently through the soft fur, finding it easier to share her apartment with a cat while Caleb was out.

There was a community theatre AND an opera in town, making her initial decision to give up singing a heavy burden. Still hadn't sung a note since the death of that poor agent and Caleb's shooting, either. Despite her lover's reassurances, Lucy was still young enough to really feel responsible for the carnage. But at least she'd given up trying to become Little Betty Crocker. She'd started over here, purchasing a vegetarian cookbook just a few days before. All she had to do now was get up the nerve to attempt a real dinner.

Still-black hair drifted lazy across her shoulders when she turned towards the microscopic parking space as the Master Chef pulled up. Sporty, earlier model Volvo sedan. Automatic transmission so Lucy could occasionally drive. Bland color so it wouldn't stick out in the sea of other like models. Standing up, she waited for Caleb to approch before tossing her barefoot self into his arms and bestowing a real, honest-to-God kiss. Tongue action included.

"Welcome home," she whispered against the crook of his neck. Would that everyone's young girlfriend greeting them like that, wearing a peasant blouse and dark gypsy skirt. The desert apparently agreed with Miss Avellino. Would it agree with Mister Holmes as well?

There is so much a man can tell you
So much he can say
You remain my power, my pleasure, my pain
Baby, To me, you're like a growing
Addiction that I can't deny
Won't you tell me, is that healthy, baby?
But did you know that when it snows
My eyes become large
And the light that you shine can't be seen?

  • Northern RednecksCaleb Holmes, Tue Mar 15 04:41
    Caleb hated his life. Currently he was blaming Bernardo Avellino for all of his misfortune. Or at least a good majority of it. Rob took the rest of the blame pertaining to his career. Why the hell... more
    • Kiss From a Desert Rose — Lucy Avellino, Tue Mar 15 15:58
      • Marginal ImprovementCaleb Holmes, Tue Mar 15 21:30
        Lucy laughed at him. Well, that was all right. He was used to that sort of response anymore. Just a big frickin’ joke to everyone, right? Yeah, right. Caleb sat there, waiting for the manic giggles... more
        • Improved ActionsLucy Avellino, Wed Mar 16 13:52
          “C’mon hippie! We need to get some shoes on you if we’re going out tonight.” Out? She let him cart her into the apartment, refusing to let go until he had to dump her in their closet before attending ... more
          • Sneaky WaysCaleb Holmes, Wed Mar 16 16:38
            Caleb was ready to throttle Lucy. “I just don’t want you to get hurt again!” Hurt? Hurt? She had no fricking idea how it felt! Frankly it was a self-centered reason, and idiotic all the same. It had... more
            • Mysterious WaysLucy Avellino, Thu Mar 17 16:22
              “Next! Simon Halifax.” Lucy barely had time to catch her breath before Caleb moved past her, the cutest little smirk on his face. He was auditioning too? Twisting around, she leaned against the wall, ... more
              • Surprises AboundCaleb Holmes, Fri Mar 18 02:27
                “Look down, look down… Don’t look ‘em in the eye… Look down, look down… You’re here until you die…” Ooh, chain gang! All right, so they weren’t going to be in costume yet, but apparently these men... more
                • Lock, Stock and BarrelLucy Avellino, Fri Mar 18 13:01
                  "I'm what?!" Lucy stared at the doctor, rather expecting him to grow another head. The idea that she could .. could .. it was inconcievable! You had to be married to ... to ... "You are pregnant,... more
                  • Fruity by NatureCaleb Holmes, Fri Mar 18 15:10
                    “Hi…” She was so cute when she squeaked! “I’m Lucy, and I’ll be your pregnant girlfriend for the next six months or so.” Six months? She was already going into the second trimester?! “Or… I’ll be... more
                    • Fruit of the WombLucy Avellino, Sat Mar 19 01:05
                      Contrary to all outward appearances, Lucy felt pretty fatalistic -- at least after the first few hours of sheer terror faded away. Funny how the body reacted to stressful situations. Some people... more
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