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Aberrant: Stargate Universe - Asian Slumber Party [Complete]

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Olivia was still happy from the party – good food, good wine and good friends. She walked back to her room with several others, noting that Aradia wasn’t back yet. She trusted Wakiki to not hurt her, and quietly wondered if he were finally making a move – or she on him. Aradia deserved a good guy, who would treat her right. And Olivia knew that her brother was a decent guy most of the time. With men, that was about as good as it got.

Her good mood lasted as she stripped off her nice clothes and put them away. Then she pulled her pajamas, enjoying the sensation of comfort-clothes after the binding stiffness of the nice clothes. Her pleasant disposition lasted until she called Aradia’s room and got no answer. She wasn’t used to being alone at night in her own room, and she wondered how long she’d be waiting.

You know, they might be going back to Wakiki’s hotel room, Olivia thought, frowning. While she hoped that Aradia wouldn’t give it up so fast, she also didn’t begrudge her ‘sister’ that fun. Still there was no telling how long it would take. While she waited, she washed her face and brushed her hair and teeth, loving the clean feeling that follow hygienic practices. After she was done, she called Aradia again, and still got no answer.

She gathered her things for her overnight stay and opened the door, prepared to impose on the other woman that might not mind. To her surprise, Yseult was stepping out of Damien’s room. Oh, awkward…

“Yseult,” Olivia said, her sleeping bag tucked under her arm. “Can I ask a favor? It’s kinda big.”

“Of course, Olivie,” Yseult replied, smiling.

Olivia licked her lips before reciting her carefully-crafted lie, “I suffer from some bad nightmares, and they’ve been particularly bad recently. It helps if someone’s in the room with me. Normally, I bunk with Aradia, but she’s still out. If I could grab a corner of floor, I’d owe you one. As a warning, it might get bad; sometimes, I wake up Aradia because I’m talking or, uh, shouting. So I understand if you say no.”

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When Yseult caught Olivia's quick glance from her to Damien's room, she felt a slight tinge of embarrassment, reflecting on what it looked like. Damien was entirely to attractive now, and it didn't help that she couldn't even feel bad around the charming man.

When Olivia didn't say anything about Damien and expressed her request, she quickly acceded, her smile etched with concern. "Non, ce n'est pas un problème. It is not a problem, come." Yseult strode briskly to her quarters, the staccato tread of her heels loud, Olivia just a step behind.

Yseult looked down at the woman at her side, her stilettos lending her half a foot of height on dark specialist. "If the nightmares are so bad that you are having trouble sleeping, Olivie, I can prescribe you a mild sedative. Well, after I better understand the limits of your specialist physiology."

"And you will not be sleeping on the floor, Olivie," Yseult said, opening the door to her new quarters. "It is not conducive to a good night's rest. The bed is big enough." Yseult looked around the room, floor covered with boxes from her old quarters, and bags from the extensive shopping she had done earlier. She shot Olivia a wry grin. "Besides, there is little space right now. Make yourself comfortable, I will just be a few minutes."

As the dark specialist followed the honey-hued one in, Yseult wobbled slightly taking off her high-heeled stilettos. She gave a sigh of relief, gave Olivia a grin that said 'Why do we do this', then reached into a bag from Victoria's Secret to retrieve her new sleepware, a fuscia nightie.

Yseult gave Olivia a comforting touch on the shoulder in passing, then brushed her fingers with longing on a framed photo on the desk, one of the few things set up in her quarters, before entering the bathroom. "I will just be a few minutes, I had practice hurrying. Make yourself comfortable," the pretty blonde repeated.

True to her word, Olivia could see through the partially open door that Yseult went through her evening hygienic regimen with enviable efficiency. Olivia couldn't help but tighten her lips, then sigh, at the sight of the beautiful, young looking doctor in her very flattering nightie.

Yseult came back out of the bathroom, her black dress over an arm. She hung it in the completely empty wardrobe with a snort of pique, then turned to Olivia.

To Olivia's acute senses, the slight flush to the Nordic-Asian's skin was obvious, though Yseult seemed completely unaware of it. The pupils in the vast sea of her turquoise irises were slightly dilated. Olivia could smell the raspberry, cherry, and a undertone of plum of the Scarlet of Paris Pinot Noir that Yseult had drank all night, as her breath drifted across the enclosed room, an intoxicating breeze to her hyperactive sense of touch.

Yseult gazed at Olivia, her eyes luminous with sympathy and, perhaps, something else even she didn't know was there.

"You do not owe me anything Olivie. I am a mother with two children and I know abo--One should not be alone with nightmares."

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Olivia couldn’t help but notice Yseult’s attention, and she fought a flush. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, she decided, but she couldn’t bring herself to flee. I’m an adult, I can handle this. She watched Yseult’s body move under the silken cloth. Maybe I should go sleep with Vinny. Not like that… but still.

Worse, she felt a bit dowdy. Her nightclothes were hardly sexy; a spaghetti-strap top and a pair of comfortable man’s flannel pants were her choice. She’d at least taken care to make sure they were both a soft shade of blue instead of her usual half-hazard matching.

Yseult seemed to be waiting for her to speak. Wait, she asked me a question. Kinda. The sight of the beautiful blond in her bed clothes was enough to distract Olivia, easily. “I’ve used sedatives in the past,” Olivia said. “Honestly, they tend to make it worse in a way. I can’t wake up, and it adds to the trapped feeling. Well, the trapped feelings of the ones that I can remember.” She sighed at that omission; Dr. Fraiser had told her she might get her nightmares under control if she could work through the triggers. Some of them, like the ones involving Unas and Hatchins, had very clear prompts. It was the ones she couldn’t remember that were the worst; they were the ones that left her completely terrified but without knowing why. “But thank you for the offer, I really appreciate it.”

She sat on the bed, unsure what else to do, and drew her knees up to her chest. She wasn’t sure how to address the ‘mother and child’ comment. It made her feel oddly vulnerable, like she should turn to this woman for comfort. Struggling past that, she realized she had a chance to warn another woman about that rapist, and she added in a soft voice, “Honestly, they’ve only gotten bad really recently because… well… bit of background. I had a bad… run-in with a group of guys once, and it’s stuck with me." As always, it was easier to talk about this with a woman. "And we have a new Sergeant here, who makes me feel uncomfortable. He’s got the same vibe those guys had. He reminds me of that night all over again. So my nightmares about that have been worse, since then.” She paused and said, “Watch out for him, Yseult. He’s not a good man. He’s a Staff Sergeant, and his name is Carl Hatchins.” As always, his name twisted her gut and made her shiver.

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"...thank you for the offer, I really appreciate it."

"I understand Olivie. There are not many people who realize that most sedatives will put this to sleep," Yseult said, tapping Olivia just below the hollow of her throat with two fingers, then moving upward to tap her on the forehead. "But not this."

Yseult watched Olivia pull her knees up on the bed, looking vulnerable and slightly discomfited, and had to stifle the urge to run a hair through her dark hair, then give her a tight hug.

Instead, she walked around to the other side of the bed, and sat on the edge, legs crossed. She looked over at Olivia, chin resting on her shoulder, picturing her again as she was earlier today, wearing the orange dress, radiant and joyful; it suited her much better than this moroseness. She hadn't meant for her comment about her children to make Olivia feel out of sorts, she had meant to say 'I know that to those with nightmares, the nightmares are real, and I am here if you need it.' Sigh.

As Olivia expressed the horror she had suffered, Yseult's gaze held steady, sympathy unwavering without a trace pity; those blue-green orbs conveyed that she understood what she had undergone, even if she could never know. When she heard about Staff Sergeant Hatchins however, a fury began to rise in her. She had never had an experience like Olivia, but she felt outrage that she had to undergo it again every time she saw this man. And the anxiety that was evident on her face every time she mentioned his name said quite clearly to the blonde doctor that there was more than just a bad vibe about this Carl Hatchins, at least for Olivia.

Yseult twisted around on the bed, legs folded beneath her, knees almost touching Olivia's feet, and faced Olivia directly. A sudden, impish grin grew on Yseult's face, making her look years younger than the early twenties she already did. Her eyes however, held a fiendish light, the turquoise irises swelling till only a sliver of white at the outer edge of her eyes could be seen.

"I have a magnifique idea, Olivie. We will go to breakfast together, and you will point out this Carl Hatchins. Then, he will have a small accident, yes?" Suddenly, Yseult's stilettos were walking back and forth on the edge of the bed, the steps ridiculously mincing. Yseult's grin grew even wider. "Perhaps he will trip and fall, or his food tray will slip and his food will splatter on his face. And no one will know what has happened, but you and I. You will not be uncomfortable around someone who looks so foolish. Then this man will no longer trouble you, and hopefully, you will have one less cauchemar, nightmare, yes?"

Yseult studiously avoided thinking about the fact that she had looked foolish at Subway and in Victoria's Secret, and that Olivia did seem a little uncomfortable in her presence.

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Olivia laughed at the thought, but Yseult saw the answer in her eyes before she spoke. "Look, I really appreciate the thought, but this isn't someone I want to upset or rile up. He's surely heard of the Specialists by now, and sooner or later, your powers will become known. I don't want to draw his attention to you." She smiled reassuringly. "The brass has been informed, via unofficial channels, and he should be under lots of surveillance. Honestly, thinking of him being watched and unable to do anything bad is about the worst punishment I can think of for someone who enjoys controlling other people.

"But let's not talk about gross men," Olivia said, moving the conversation away from her sore subject. "Now that you've been around and gotten to know some of us, what do you think? Are you feeling better about becoming a specialist? I, uh, know you lost a lot of things to get to this point, and I'm sorry for that, very sorry. If you need to talk about it, about anything, I'm here." She smiled at the blond woman, and lowered her knees, folding her legs into a cross-legged pose. Forgetting her earlier reservations, Olivia reached out and patted her on the knee, retaining that gentle, sweet smile. It was all the comfort she could offer - that and an open ear.

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"Well... If he causes no trouble, then I will let him be. I think that I am beginning to like my telekinetics too much. Even if they know it is me, they cannot prove it." A speculative frown bent Yseult's lips. "As of yet, I have not been able to determine what mechanism my telekinetics uses. It is most frustrating."

As Olivia shifted her pose, Yseult mirrored her, elbow resting on knee, chin cupped in her supported hand, head cocked. She felt a flash of... something run through her at the brief contact with the other woman. A tinge of embarrassment narrowed her eyes; Olivia was offering her comfort, when she had come to the other woman seeking it.

"It is taking time adjusting to being a specialist. It was nice to see a familiar face," Yseult said, her slight frown turning into a wry grin. "A somewhat familiar face. It is Damien, and yet not Damien. Mon Dieu! How do you work with someone like that? Please tell me you get use to it. And Majeur Hawke could be my husband's brother. But I am getting over that. He is not as gorgeous as François, nor does he make me laugh like he does. Cam and Gwyn and Aradie all seem like nice people and are having less trouble adapting."

"Becoming a specialist did not change me as much as others. I have a special ability, yes, but I did not become preternaturally strong or intelligent or beautiful, I still need to eat and breath and sleep." Yseult's soft smile filled with a tired melancholy; she still felt it, but she was beginning to accept her changes. "The hardest part of being a specialist, is not being a specialist, but not being myself. It is wearing the face of the one who stole my life."

Yseult bit her full underlip, holding back the tears she felt welling everytime she thought of how far away she was from her family. The picture she had brushed earlier fly to her hand, her fingers caressing the silvered frame. Olivia's sharp eyes could see the picture clearly: A strong, vigorous man with braod shoulders and a broad grin had his hands wrapped around a petite, common looking woman a little over thirty with short, curly black hair. The woman's warm, gentle smile gave her a rare radiance however; her cheek was pressed to a little boy's brown-haired head, his grin wild with delight at the frog in his hand and her hand tickling his stomach; the woman's other hand held a girl, a couple of years older than the boy and with straight, black hair, close to her side, her nose held up in disgust, but a smile writhing her lips.

"It.. it would be.. better I think if... they had.. they had died," Yseult said, shuddering at the thought. "I could finally grieve, and then move on. Or not. But to be away from them, thinking me dead...? The IOA is cruel to make be choose this. Only knowing that here, I can still help protect them keeps me going."

Yseult was silent for a few minutes, eyes downcast, as she reflected on her family. Then she shook her head, wiped her eyes as surreptitiously as she could with someone sitting just six inches away, and sent her treasured picture back to its place on the desk. When she looked up again, her eyes were clear and she gave Olivia a reciprocal pat, thanking her for listening to her.

"But enough of me," Yseult said with a cut of her hand. "You don't need to have my problems added to your nightmares. It is good that you can see your family still." Yseult's warm smile was truly happy for the other woman; if there was a trace of envy in it, could you blame her?

"What of you? How did you end up here and how do you feel being a specialist?" With another pat on the knee and a soft smile, Yseult extended Olivia the same offer of comfort and an ear.

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“I can see that it would be better for you,” Olivia said, “but aren’t you happy to know that they’re alive and healthy? I know you can’t be with them, but isn’t good that they’re alive? I’m sorry for you loss – I’ve tried to imagine what it would be like to be isolated from my family. It’d be hard; I’d have to find some way to keep an eye on them, for my own sanity.”

The mention of the IOA made her frown. She was still a little shocked about the lengths that they were willing to go to punish her, but she hadn’t thought about it much. Now, Yseult’s pain reminded Olivia of the troubles she had felt at their hand, and she felt her first real anger at them. It felt better than the fear she’d been plagued with, but she didn’t have time for that right now.

She smiled warmly at Yseult’s question, even though she wasn’t sure it was a smiling answer. “At first, I was really interested and thrilled,” Olivia said, her eyes going distant as she recalled those early, heady days. “I was alive, which I didn’t expect, and after my headache faded, I felt good. I lost weight, I had my high school ass back – life seemed good.

“And then I realized I was still the weak one, the slow one, the one that needs others to protect her,” Olivia said, her smile fading as she tilted her head to one side. “I have new senses, the ability to feel and hear things that no one else ever has. But now I couldn’t talk to my family about all these wonders, either. I have my team, and I talk to them, but on leave, I had to answer half my family’s questions with ‘That’s part of my NDA.’ It’s lonely and makes me sad that I can’t share with them all the great things I’ve seen and done. And I have all this attention on me; without becoming a specialist, I likely would have remained just a simple archivist. IOA would have never-”

Olivia stopped and recovered herself. “I love some of my new abilities. I love my new writing abilities. I mostly love that I can hear things I couldn’t before, though I’d love to not hear some of the gossip that flies around this place. You wouldn’t believe some of the awful things people say about others. So vile and mean.” She shook herself, throwing off the dark mood. “It’s mostly good, I guess, but I have some definite reservations.”

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Yseult lurched forward, wrapping Olivia in a fierce embrace. "C'est la vie, the good and the bad, yes?" She murmured softly, her lips lightly grazing Olivia's shoulder. "It is painful to be away from my family, but I will gladly take a thousand such pains to keep them safe... And someday, I will see them again," She promised in a ardent and determined voice.

Yseult sat back down, though her surprisingly strong hands stayed on Olivia's arms. Her eyes were compassionate, yet intense as they locked on the other specialist's, only inches away. Beautiful eyes, that see so much.

"No more. We will not let our regrets and resentments eat at us, okay? We are not weak women, Olivie, we are strong in ways the others are not." Yseult lips were slightly parted, her warm breath like velvet, as she tried to get her point across. "You will notice the troubles that no one else can see, yes? And we will fix the problems that a fist or gun cannot, be it an unsolved puzzle or broken steel or torn flesh."

The two female specialists of partial Asian descent stared at each other in silence, the seconds stretching out into a long moment. A furrow of confusion blossomed between Yseult's fine, pale brows, and her eyes widened in embarrassed alarm. Olivia could see, could feel, the flush blooming from Yseult as she scuttled backwards on her hands to the other side of the bed.

"I am sorry Olivie, I am not - I do not - I am not usually this familiar - this brazen. It is the wine! This is the first I have had sin - I do not know my limits now, do not know how it affects this," Yseult gestured at her body in mortified haplessness.

"Perhaps we should go bed - go to sleep now, yes?" Yseult's weak grin was a sickly and self-conscious affair.

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“Yseult,” Olivia said, keeping her voice calm despite the butterflies in her stomach. What is it with me!? Why do so many people show this kind of attraction to me!? “It’s ok. Whatever you were just feeling, it’s fine. I’m flattered. Were circumstances different, I might be more than flattered. You’re still grieving, though, and I don’t know that rushing into anything would be good at this time. And I’m… just initiating a relationship with someone here on the base – it’s still early on, but I want it to work.” I’ll never be as happy as I was in Kuwait, but I think I can come close. “But as I said… very flattering, especially given how sweet and attractive you are as a person and a woman.”

It was always so much easier talking sex with a woman. Men immediately went to a dark, gross place that involved lots of invasion and conquering and claiming. That was just the way they were, and Olivia didn’t mind. But after Hatchins, it was unnerving to feel that energy from a man; women were mostly devoid of it. She’d met lesbians who were men without cocks, by their own actions.

She shuffled a little closer to the other woman and put a gentle hand on her shoulder, careful that her body was only using platonic language. “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or like you’ve done something wrong. It’s fine,” she assured the other woman, nodding. She sat back and added, “We can go to sleep if you want, and I can still take the floor, if you’d be more comfortable with that than sharing the bed. Or I can put the bag on the bed. Your call.”

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Olivia could see Yseult's unconscious signs of arousal and intoxication fade quickly away, to be replaced by completely stunned disbelief. What is wrong with me? I am not... that way. Are you not? Of course not, I have a husband and two children. What about Melanie Dubeau? That was only for one week, when I was twenty! And did you love her? Non! Could you have loved her?...I don't know. Really? It was a hard time for both of us, and we were both young and experimenting. You are young again, now....

Mechanically, Yseult layed down on her back, pulled the blankets over her, and rested her hands on her stomach, fingers entwined distractedly. Her large eyes were focused on a point somewhere above the cieling of her quarters.

"I am sorry if I have made you uncomfortable, Olivie... things are... very confused for me now," Yseult replied, her voice a million miles away, lost in her own thoughts. "Still, I insist you stay on the bed, it will be better for your nightmares."

Being with any man would be a betrayal of François. He may think you are gone, but you will always know he is there. But what of a...? I will be with François again, I will! Are you sure?... Would he want you always sad, or to be happy?... You told him not to be consumed by grief, how can you let it consume you?... I'll never be as happy as I was with François , but can I come close?

Yseult turned her head, turquoise gaze regarding Olivia directly. Other than for complete sincerity, the depths of her eyes were unfathomable.

"Despite this, I hope we can be friends, Olivie"

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"Despite what?" Olivia said lightly. "I meant what I said, Yseult, this isn't something you should be embarrassed about." Olivia chuckled softly. "I can't throw any stones. I had a girlfriend for a while, and I once made out with an incredibly dumb, mean girl because she was incredibly hot. And I did it to help her cajole someone into her bed. Priming his pump, so to speak."

Click to reveal.. (Too Hot To Handle)

Someone passed between her and the light, and she looked up to see Clarissa smiling down at her. "Wanna dance?" the lovely red-head asked.

"Me?" Liv asked, even as she glanced at Bill.

"Oh, baby... there is no way I'm stopping you," he grinned broadly.

"Yes, you," Clarissa said, offering her hand.

Liv took it slowly, but allowed the woman to pull her to her feet and out to a clear area of sand. As Clarissa started to dance - with a good two feet between them - Liv glanced back at the group and saw the eyes on them. That's her game, Liv thought, and almost walked away and left her there. But Clarissa was hot, and Liv grinned as she got a better idea.

She boldly stepped up next to the red-head and put her arms around her waist. "What are you doing?" Clarissa hissed.

"Do you want to impress him or not?" Liv whispered as they rocked more or less together, though they didn't quite have the rhythm yet. As a blush crossed Clarissa's face at being called out, the young Blasian murmured, "Follow my lead. Put your arms around my shoulders."

Clarissa might be a bimbo, but Liv wouldn't pass up the chance to grope the lovely woman.

Clarissa's grip around her shoulders wasn't too persuasive, but Liv didn't need it to be. Liv intended to lez this up enough for both of them - and the watching men. She slipped her leg in between Clarissa's and straddled one of her legs. Using her hands on her ass to draw her in tight, Liv started to grind on the other woman in time with the music.

Clarissa looked surprised and a little lost, but when Liv's leg stimulated her body, she got into it. A blush crept up her fair skin as their breasts brushed, and her breath caught in her throat when Liv pressed into her with a bit more force. Liv even dared to nuzzle into the fair chest above the edge of her shirt, leaving a path of breath-warmed skin in her wake. Her dark hands cupped Clarissa's ass, drawing soft moans from both of them.

She heard Collin whisper, "Holy shite." Fighting the udge to look at him, Liv decided that it was time for the finishing move. "Kiss me," she murmured as she nosed the other woman's ear.

"What?!" Clarissa whispered back.

"Do it," Liv said, "and make it look good. Then make your play for him."

Clarissa caught Liv's face in her hands; with her palms warming her cheeks, Clarissa kissed her, an open-mouthed, full-tongued exploration of her mouth. Liv joined the kiss with complete enthusiasm, trying to curl Clarissa's toes while wondering if maybe she could convince her to forget Asshole and sleep with her instead. She found herself getting carried away, driven by the soft cloth-covered flesh under her roaming fingers. One hand stayed on Clarissa' ass, pulling her tight; the other cupped the other woman's breast. She could feel a hard nipple under her palm and she curled her fingers around it, stimulating the sensitive nub. She was a little surprised she could think enough to do even that; the intense kiss was curling her toes and shorting out her brain.

Olivia realized she was day dreaming about Clarissa and snapped out of it. "Sorry... drifted away there," she said, as Yseult saw her blush hard enough to actually make her face red. "It was... very hot."

Yseult looked fascinated despite herself. "Did it work? The ploy?"

"Yeeeeah," Olivia drawled, looked uncomfortable. "It worked all right. Not that I don't rather regret it now, mind you."


"Well, she was just trying to get with the guy because he was our supervisor, and that so she could get special treatment," Olivia explained. "She got him in bed but didn't bargain for her special stuff before so Vinny basically ignored her afterward. I would have felt bad for her, but when you play people, you sometimes get played, right?

"Ack, that was more detailed than necessary, but my point: I wasn't ashamed of being with girls, though I've been with more guys. And you shouldn't either, once you're ready to date again." She smiled. "And we can put a blanket between us, if you want to share the bed."

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Yseult rolled onto her side, head supported by an outstretched arm, her lips quirked in interest at Olivia's experience. Other than with Melanie, she had never spoken about her old dalliance, and it was uncomfortably intriguing to hear another woman's account.

Yseult pursed her lips, composing her thoughts. "It is not that I am ashamed, precisely, more like shocked. Completely." Her eyes lost their focus, her mind drifting away to nearly forgotten memories. "These feelings, I have not had them in nearly fifteen years. I had only been with one woman, considered being with one woman, before I met my husband. Since then, I have not even thought about it."

A reflective smile graced Yseult's face as her attention returned to Olivia. "But then I changed into a new woman, more than ten years younger, and then I saw you in your orange dress today, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. The... emotions flooded back, though I did not know what they were till now. Till you had to point them out to me like I was blind. In a way, I guess I was."

Yseult flopped back down on her back, releasing a long sigh. Her fingers tapped her stomach in an irregular rhythm, eyes playing across the cieling, searching for something ephemeral. "I do not think I can ever make myself love another man, not with François still out there. It would feel a betrayal. But a woman... it feels different. Maybe I should try something new, for beginning a new life."

Yseult turned her head to offer Olivia a sheepishly grateful smile. "You came to me for comfort from your nightmares, yet you are the one doing all the comforting. You will have to let me make this up to somehow. For now, sharing the bed is fine."

One of the duffels opened unaided, several blankets unfurling like quilted sails as they landed on the foot of the bed.

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“I like helping people,” Olivia said honestly. “It distracts me from my own problems. And you’re nice enough that I hate seeing you upset.” She smiled warmly at the beautiful woman. “So don’t worry. You did help me.”

She pulled herself under the blankets and stretched out. Her dark eyes almost immediately began to cloud over with sleepiness. She knew she’d felt tired, but she didn’t realize how tired until she began to let herself drift away. Struggling, she pulled herself back awake and said sincerely, “Yseult, I think you should do whatever you need to do to be happy. That’s so rare in this world – you have to work at it, grab it, subdue it, but it’s wonderful… just being happy.” Her dark eyes blinked at her slowly. “And you have time – time to come to terms and learn what you really want. Just give yourself time.”

She balled up her fist under the pillow and smiled at the young doctor. There was no other word for the picture the sleepy specialist made than ‘adorable’.

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Yseult smiled at the sight of the somnolent specialist. "Bon soir et bonne rêves, Olivie," Yseult mumbled, a hand going to her mouth as her jaws cracked in a wide yawn.

Yseult curled up under the blankets, her eyelids heavy with the weight of today's events as Olivia's sleepiness exacerbated her own. It was only the second day for her out of isolation, and she had ended up doing much more than she had expected. The kindliness of the other specialists, especially Olivia, had drawn her out of her self-imposed prison of woe.

"Time and to be happy. I would like to be happy... again..." Yseult's soprano was thick with sleep and her accent.

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"I think you will be," Olivia murmured softly, her face already half-turned into the pillow and her voice thick with sleep. "Just nee' some time and some nice guy or girl to love ya." She yawned widely, and her last thought was whether she'd have a nightmare or not.

The answer was yes.

Click to reveal.. (Nightmare)
She was naked and bound with her arms holding her weight, bound by shackles at her wrists. She could kick her feet, but weights hooked to her ankles pulled painfully, making kicking hard and putting unbearable pressure on her shoulders. Olivia sobbed as she swung, trying to find a way to hang that didn't hurt as much as all the other ways.

The stone cell was something out of a medieval nightmare, and Olivia wasn't at all surprised when Hatchins walked in wearing period clothes that matched the dark surroundings. “Hey,” darlin’,” he drawled, pulling out a knife and testing the edge with his thumb. “We’re in for a treat tonight.”

“Please,” she begged, knowing it wouldn’t do any good.

Hatchins just laughed as he pushed her, sending her into a slow spin. “No worries, this’ll be fun. You’ll see.” He stopped her spin so that she was face-to-face with him. He placed the knife against her stomach, the sharp blade itching with its teasing presence. As she sobbed, he pressed and made a shallow cut. Grinning at her, he made another cut at a right angle at the edge of his first cut, then another at the other end. Starting with his first cut, he began to separate her skin from her body, laughing when she screamed.

When he’d removed a neat square, he smiled up at her. “I’ve hurt you,” he said, his voice rough. “But I can make you better.” His eyes flashed with sudden light and he announced in an echoing voice, “And best of all, you can join me forever – as my mate.” His hand came up, holding a thrashing Goa’uld. “All those things we did once, we’ll do again, forever, and you’ll finally enjoy them.”

Olivia screamed again as it bored into her neck, right where Jaltor had once attacked her. But this time, she felt it wiggle in. The last thought she had, the last one allowed to her, was that she wasn’t strong enough to save herself, again.

Around three a.m., Olivia began to whimper in her sleep. Had she been awake, they would have been screams, but the paralyzing effect of sleep limited her reaction to her internal stimuli.

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"... nice guy or girl to love..."

Yseult barely heard Olivia's soft voice before sleep and dreams claimed her like the tide over a disturbed beach, ripples in the sand washing away.

Click to reveal.. (Dream)
She was sitting in her favourite chair, back in her home on the outskirts of Montreal. Her two children sat on the floor by the fireplace. Loric was lining up frogs and mice in a row, while Monique was colouring in a book with blank pages.

"Oh! I've missed you so much. I'm never leaving again. Mother will always be here, my darlings." As she got out the chair to hug her children, they turned around and she stopped dead in her tracks.

Loric was sporting Adrian's too handsome face, while Monique's black hair turned blonde with streaks of purple, Aradia grinning at her from her daughter's body.

Before she could reflect on the strangeness of her children, she felt hands wrap firmly around her waist, lips bending down to nuzzle at her ear and neck. "François," She murmured in need, her children's faces no longer seeming strange.

She spun around in her spouse's hands and looked up into Olivia's dark, stunning face. She hugged Olivia's full, orange-clad figure tight, their breasts pressed firmly together.

"I have been to long without you, François," Yseult cried into Olivia's shoulder.

Olivia tilted her head up with a forefinger under her chin. "You are here now, and that is all that matters."

Olivia's face bent down to her lips, dark eyes locking onto dark eyes, then gave her a deep kiss, tongues entwining.

Her subconscious pierced by the sound of a whimper, Yseult snapped awake, her mother's senses alerting her to someone's need. She found herself pressed close to Olivia, the loose blankets between them muffling the dream-wracked specialist's trembling.

Her fatigue forgotten, Yseult smoothly sat up, propping herself against the headboard. Gently, she positioned Olivia's head on her lap, her hands soft with concern. Olivia's whimpers and trembles continued unabated, the dusky woman locked in sleep by her own fears.

"Ma pauvre chouette, vous êtes sûr maintenant. Dors sur tes deux oreilles, les cauchemars ne peut pas vous obtenir." [My poor owl, you are safe now. Sleep soundly, the nightmares can't get you]

Yseult's voice was soothing, the foreign language washing over Olivia like the warm tide the had claimed Yseult earlier. She stroked Olivia's hair with delicate fingers, and began to tenderly sing an old French lullaby, the soft soprano reaching Olivia without waking her.

Some time later, Olivia's distress eased, her breathing even and undisturbed, true rest flowing through her limbs. Yseult continued stroking her hair, voice fading into unintelligiblity. Her head nodded forward, chin resting on her clavicle, her face veiled by honey-hued tresses. A smile, satisfied and content, graced her lips.

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Olivia became aware that she was on an odd pillow. Mumbling drowsily, she slid one hand under the round, smooth head rest, only to have it jump under her head. Startled, Olivia lifted her head, to find it had been on Yseult's lap - and that she'd been groping a smooth thigh. "Oh god!" she yelped, jerking upright. "I am so sorry about that... how did my head get there? Did I move in my sleep? I'm usually only that lecherous in my sleep with people I'm having sex with, I swear! Just ask Aradia - I'm very well behaved with her!"

Olivia was aware that she was babbling, but she couldn't help it; waking up like that was deeply embarrassing. Worse, it meant that she was going to have to 'fess up to Vinny and, man, did she not look forward to that conversation. "Hi, I've been having terrible nightmares, and I normally sleep with Aradia, but while she was off canoodling with my brother, I bunked up with Yseult, who seems interested in pursuing a relationship with me now, and naturally, I woke up with my head on her lap, groping her thigh because I thought it was a pillow but you're still the one I want to be with, really." Fucking hell - how do I get myself into these situations? Probably by being an ass-tard. And now I even sound like him. Fu- Grr, good grief!

"I, uh, thank you," she said quickly, pulling her shirt back down over her dark midriff. "Nice night, lovely conversation... I should probably go now."

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Yseult jumped in startlement when she felt someone grab her thigh. She slowly raised her head, eyes still heavy with sleep. She smiled in amusement as Olivia quickly raised her head off her thighs. For once, it was the other woman ill at ease; Yseult was content.

Yseult tilted her head until vertebrae popped, then tried to wipe the sleep from her eyes, before answering Olivia.

"You did not do anything wrong Olivie. You were having a nightmare and woke me. I simply did what I could to soothe you. A gentle voice and gentle hands work every time. I just fell asleep before I could set you back down."

Yseult leaned back against the headboard, her smile still tired and amused as she watched Olivia leave in discomfitted haste.

"Pas de problème, Olivie. I will see you around."

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Yseult watched Olivia slip out the door, her smile fading into a pensive frown. She looked down at her hands, then her breasts filling out her nightie, her frown growing.

She fell back on the pillows, eyes heavy-lidded once more as she thought back to last night, and her and Olivia's confessions.

"Who am I?"

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