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Category Archives: Lydia’s Stories

Fiction: Memories (239 Words)

I wanted to be able to remember.  For the very least, I wanted to be able to remember him. The way he looked at me, I know he loved me, or who I used to be, or however you want to dice it, there was something very special between us and I wanted to be able to smile at him and say, “Oh, you. Yes of course I remember you.”

But I couldn’t remember anything.  I didn’t know my name.  I hadn’t been able to recognize my own face in a picture.  Whatever was happening in my brain had really done a number on me, and there didn’t seem to be any coming back from it.

So I apologized, because it seemed like the least I could do. And he smiled at me.  It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Well, will you at least give me the chance to win you over again?”  I shrugged, because how else could I answer that. “I’ll come back the next time the doctors think it’s okay for you to have visitors, yeah?”

I nodded at that.  I wanted him to come back. And maybe that was worth something. He reached out towards me, by habit, before remembering himself and letting his hands fall back to his sides.  “I’ll see you soon.” He gave me one last smile, and headed out, leaving me alone with the doctors to try more tests.

 
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Posted by on April 16, 2015 in Lydia's Stories

 

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Fiction: A Small Test (423 words)

He reached out carefully to brush a piece of hair away from her forehead, but she held up a hand to stop him.  He gave a soft laugh.  “No magic, just skin—“he wiggled his fingers in front of her eyes as proof.  “I promise.”  She relaxed slightly, and he swept the hair off her face, discreetly checking for a fever as best as he could.

“My head is going to pop,” she said weakly, “explode like a watermelon.  You’re going to get brains goo on you.”

“Does it really hurt that badly?”  He whispered.

“Yeah. Just about.”  She rested back against the pillows a little further.

“You know, I could…” Tristan made a small swirling gesture with his hand.

“No.  Thank you, but no. I can’t turn to it anytime I feel a bit sickly.  I’ve got to fight through all this, okay?”

“But—watermelon head.” Tristan protested, miming an explosion between his hands..  Lydia laughed weakly, but shook her head no.  “What if I just helped you sleep?  You know? Like a big dose of Nyquil without having to show the cashier your ID?”

She eyed him for a second.  “Just sleeping? No curing?”

“No curing. Just sleeping.” He echoed.

“Swear on something,” Lydia challenged.

Tristan thought for a second and then “I swear on the fact that you are the most epic cock block in the history of cock blockers that I will only help you sleep.”

Lydia laughed outright in spite of the pain.  “I am an excellent cock block.”

“Oh, I don’t think Andre will ever let you forget it.” Tristian held up his fingers again, wiggling them in front of Lydia’s forehead.  She eyed them wearily for a second, and then nodded. He pressed his fingers gently to her forehead and listened as her breathing evened out.  He waited until he was sure that she was asleep before lifting his fingers away.  He kissed her very softly on the temple before heading back out into the living room.

Andre was at his side in a second. “Is she okay? What does she need? What can I do?”

“She’s okay,” Tristan assured him, “In a lot of pain, but asleep now. She’ll be alright.”

“She didn’t accept—right? I mean, you offered to…” Andre trailed off.

“Yeah. I mean no.  I just helped her get to sleep.” Tristan confirmed, and Andre looked immediately relieved.  “It’s going to be a long haul though.”

“True,” Andre agreed, sliding over on the couch so that Tristan could sit down, “But, at least she’s passed the first test.”

 
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Posted by on January 15, 2015 in Lydia's Stories

 

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Fiction: Dealing (378 words)

Lydia (or should he call her Anna now?) had finally told him everything.  The truth of how she and Timothy were created. The training they went through since birth to get as strong as they were.  What her grandmother–technically her genetic twin just decades older–had told her about her brother, and about the people who raised her.  The lie that put everything in motion.  She told him everything.

And Tristan didn’t have a clue what to do with it.

“I understand if you don’t trust me anymore, or if you want to lock me up or turn me in or whatever you feel is necessary.  But–I had to tell you. You can’t beat him without knowing everything I know.  To be fair, I’m still not sure you can beat him, but now at least you have a fighting chance.”

“You’re right. I needed to know…”  Tristan broke off, shaking his head.  “This is a lot.  We couldn’t win without it–and I thank you for that but–God.  I don’t know.”  Tristan rubbed at his eyes and looked at Lydia carefully.  “It’s too much right now.  So–Let’s just get through the next two weeks, let’s get through the challenge.  And then, well, I still don’t know.  We’ll decide what happens when we see which way the dice falls.”

Lydia started to feel a bit hopeful.  That didn’t sound like Tristan hated her.  He didn’t sound completely disgusted.  That was something.  “Okay–that’s more than fair.  Thank you very much.”

“Okay” Tristan stood up at stared at a point vaguely to the left of Lydia’s head, “I’m going to go.  I’ll talk to you tomorrow, figure more of this out.”

As Tristan turned to leave, Lydia felt a bubble of panic rise in her chest, and before she could stop herself, she called his name.  Tristan stopped, but didn’t turn around.  “I just want you to know…I do love you. With all my heart.  That was never a lie.”

“I can’t do this right now,”  Tristan said sternly, sounding the most sure that he had all night.  “Okay?  I just can’t deal with that right now.”

“Okay,”  Lydia offered weakly.  “Okay.”  Tristan left the room, and Lydia sank down to sit on the little rough bed and repeated “Okay” once more.  After all, everything thing else had already been said.

 
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Posted by on January 7, 2015 in Lydia's Stories

 

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Fiction: Waiting at Home (302 words)

Waiting was the heartbreaking part.  I’d never been certified, civilian through and through, so I couldn’t go in with the command, I couldn’t know the details of the op.  I didn’t even know how long it was supposed to take.  I didn’t know if it was bad that I hadn’t heard anything yet or if no news meant that things were going perfectly to plan.  I didn’t know when it was socially acceptable to admit I was panicking, because truth be told I was already panicking.  I didn’t want my Andre to die.  I really didn’t want him to die.

When the phone rang, I nearly fell over my feet racing to answer it. “Reed residence.”

“Fitz, it’s me.”  I sighed a breath of relief and collapsed onto the couch.  Andre sounded tired, but ultimately intact.  “It’s going to be another couple of days before I can come home–but it’s mostly over.  Or the dangerous parts are over and we’re mostly okay.”

“Mostly okay?” I responded automatically.  “What does mostly okay mean?”

Andrew laughed and it was honestly the best sound I’ve ever heard in my entire life.  “I knew you’d focus on that.  I’m uninjured.  It was just–a lot.  It was a lot, Fitz.”

“I guess I get that.”

“I love you, Fitz.  And this call is technically against regs, so if anyone asks–”

“I still haven’t heard from him. Why? Is he hurt? Is something wrong?” Fitz put on his best acting voice and was rewarded with another laugh.

“Exactly.  They’ll call you when I have a more official time for my homecoming.  I love you.”

“I love you too, An. Get home to me soon.”  The line disconnected and I started to cry. He was alive. He was okay. He was coming home.  That was all that mattered.

 
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Posted by on August 13, 2014 in Lydia's Stories

 

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Fiction: Bonding (251 words)

I couldn’t hate her.  They wanted me to–but their own programming was working against them.  They’d spent so much time telling me that I needed her, expecting me to rely on her, reminding us both again and again that we were the opposite sides of the same coin, one couldn’t exist without the other.

Well, I didn’t rely on her anymore, that was for certain.  She was a traitor to the cause, I saw that, and if she didn’t change her ways we’d end up working against each other.  I was disappointed the way any brother would be to see his sister throw her life away. But I couldn’t hate her the way they wanted me to hate her.  And I hoped that she held the same for me too. No matter what the other side told her about me, no matter how ‘evil’ they said I was, I hoped she couldn’t properly hate me.  It was likely to be the only way we’d both survive this.

Because they wanted me to kill my twin sister–and the other side wanted my twin sister to kill me.  We were well-trained–equally matched–it would only take a second’s hesitation to allow the other one to get the hand up–but if we couldn’t hate each other, if we both hesitated to act–we might be okay.

The only way–my only hope for surviving tomorrow was that my sister would hesitate.  I knew I would.  But if she decided she couldn’t hate me, we might be okay.

 
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Posted by on August 10, 2014 in Lydia's Stories

 

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Fiction: Final Day (353 Words)

It was good to know that my name still carried some weight.  That when Tristian went to the council to ask for a solid warrior, my name was still the first to cross their lips.  It was also good that Tristian was smart enough to recognize that you should always go with the gut reaction when you’re asking for someone like that.

So, that’s how this clever young man ended up on my doorstep with a story to tell and a question to ask.  He was going after Timothy Razer.  And heaven only knows I couldn’t dare to say no to that.  It was too tempting a trophy, to say I was part of the team that took down Timothy Razer.  I signed my loyalty to Tristan pretty quickly during that first meeting.

I had been the one to bring in Lydia, the girl from down the road who had always seemed to be pretty strong.  When we brought her in, she proved that she was, strong well beyond her years.  Although, had I known the trouble Lydia would have caused—maybe I would have thought twice about her.  But, then again, Lydia’s saved our lives a hundred times over.  And not always from the trouble she caused.   Without Lydia, Tristan and I might have very well been dead a long time ago.

But everything was out on the table now—all the secrets had been spilled between the three of us.  All the reasoning, all the heartbreaks, all the details.    If anyone was going to take down Timothy Razer, it was me, Tristian, and Lydia.  And now we all had to agree that taking him out was the right thing to do, even Lydia, no matter how hard that was for her.  And I had to believe it was hard for her.

But tomorrow, one way or another, this would all be said and done.  Either Timothy would be dead, or Tristian and I would be dead and Lydia would be captured.   Either way—the world would change forever.  And to be perfectly honest, I was kind of excited to see what that world would look like.

 
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Posted by on July 14, 2014 in Lydia's Stories

 

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Fiction: Loving a Fighter (194 words)

“I still think you’re crazy, keeping her on the team.”  I protested weakly, running a gentle hand down Andre’s chest.  “She’s the twin sister of Timothy Razer.  No good can come from that.”

“I have a sinking feeling that you’re right,” Andre replied wearily, dropping a small kiss to my forehead.  “But Tristan loves her.  Tristan trusts her—and it’s my duty to follow Tristian’s lead.  I won’t break loyalty.”

“Even if it leads to your death?”  I was ashamed of myself for saying it even as I did.  I knew what his response had to be.

“Oh, Reed.”  He slid an arm down to grab my hand in a desperate, but comforting grasp.  “Reed, I swore my loyalty to Tristan. I told you from the beginning that it would have to lie with him, that loyalty had to come before my love for you.  I’m so sorry, but yes. I will follow Tristian’s lead, even to my death.”

All I could do was nod, and give his hand a little squeeze.  It hurt, but he had told me right from the beginning.  I suppose that’s what I get for falling in love with a solider.

 
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Posted by on June 15, 2014 in Lydia's Stories

 

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