Subject: [OTL]: [Kitty/X-Files/Shadowlands][PG-13] Smoke in the Afternoon
Date: Wed, 05 Jul 2000 12:17:46 -0700
From: Trisha Lynn <sebast5228@earthlink.net>


Smoke in the Afternoon
by Trisha L. Sebastian

Summary:  A vignette about life and loss in the Shadowlands

Disclaimer:  The Shadowlands concept belongs to Alicia McKenzie and I
love playing in it.  I do hope she doesn't mind me borrowing it to play
with the very many different players that can be involved.  Ask before
archiving, feedback me often.  The characters depicted and mentioned
herein are not mine.  In addition, this is dedicated to Jono and Besh,
even though neither of you might not ever read this.  Damn, I love anime
conventions.


If there's anything I detest about living in this shadow of a world,
it's missing the smell of cigarettes on a man's breath.

The fellow I'm with now doesn't smoke, but he used to.  He misses it,
too.  I help him over the worst of the irritation.  Withdrawal ain't a
pretty sight.  I even had to pull him out of a blazing fire because he
wanted to die of smoke inhalation.  Best damn way to go, he said,
coughing and hacking.  Not of cancer, nor of a gunshot wound to the
head.  Lying on the ground, the smoke filling your lungs, stars blooming
behind your eyes as you cough and hack, wondering if you're gonna puke
your lungs out before the flames get to you.  Or if you're just going to
slip away in a monoxide haze, the curling whisper of gray the last thing
you see.

Hearing him describe it makes me wish I'd lain down with him in the
fire, let out my breath and inhaled myself to death.

They used to call me Cigarette Smoking Man, he reminds me in the middle
of the night.

It's still not enough to make me want to sleep with you, I reply,
cuddling up with my head on his chest.  His shirt still smells of smoke.
I lick his fingers, sucking the last bits of faint residue of nicotine
that's collected there over the years.  It's like a lollipop.

Grifter had a name for it, my constant dependence on men who smoked.  It
was rather amusing, but I can't remember it right now.  Something having
to do with Pavlov, maybe?

Put a man with the smell of cigarettes on his breath in my path, and 
I drool.  If he's got whiskey on his breath, I present and brace for
impact.

However, even I've still got my standards.  It's why I haven't slept
with him yet.  I mean, he's already hurting enough, with the cancer
eating away at his insides.  Does he really need the added burden of
having to keep a young woman sexually active?

...

Hmm, I almost had to think about that.

Credits:  Kitty Pryde is a Marvel creation, Cigarette Smoking Man/Cancer
Man belongs to Chris Carter.  No harm is intended, no money's being
made.

Trisha L. Sebastian
tls@thekeep.org
http://www.thekeep.org/~tls/spotlight.htm