#simcl

   “Why, yes, I have killed a lot of people! You might have to be exactly who specific I killed and if it was in this face or one of my many others. That’s the thing about being a Time Lord. There is always so many faces.”

       ‘       that       depends.         are      you         asking       for       a       professional         standpoint       or      a        personal        one?    ‘        maura      was       used          to       giving        her        opinion,       especially       when      it        came       to        science.      but      this     .      .     .      it      seemed     more       hypothetical        than       anything.        what       was       the       harm      in        indulging       the       woman?        ‘        do      i       think        there         could       be       life    beyond       just      us       in        the        universe?      possibly.     i       think       new        things      are        discovered       every      day.        why        exactly        are        you      asking?     ‘      did        she      know        something       maura       didn’t?  

          𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇, 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐔𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓,   keys abandoned the moment that the door clicks shut.   Yearning has been replaced by hunger ever since Elizabeth died,   leniency and warmth gone ――   and all that is left is his hand keeping her silhouette steady against him,   mouth searching for ABSOLUTION against her lips.   Fingertips slide underneath the hem of a skirt,   patience a foreign concept when he pushes aside the fabric of underwear and slides fingers between her lips.   It’s not even foreplay,   feels more like desperate CONDITIONING;   she can simply look at him from across the street and he feels himself straining against his jeans,   painfully,   but the pain’s a welcome distraction.   The starving kiss doesn’t even break when he redirects his focus to his own pants,   fumbling briefly with buttons ――   and pulling jeans downward only enough to expose himself.   There’s a fire underneath his skin, underneath their skin;   and all he can do to suffocate it is to FEEL her. 

          “ Come here, ”   it’s a dry command,   with his figure leaning against an unused desk. H  e pulls her closer by her waist,   low groan escaping his throat when he wraps his hand around his own cock and pushes inside her.   There’s a lifeless copy of HOME in the way she meets him half-way,   one hand pressed against the small of her back and the other coming up to wrap around her throat,   just lightly so,   when he thrusts upward.     “ Tell me about the way he fucked you. ”

A DRY LAUGH RIPPLED PAST CHAPPED LIPS. “You’re a smart one,” the woman mused, quenching her thirst with a dredge of beer. Will savored the taste as it ran down her throat. God, she’d love to get shit faced right now, but she would never allow herself to lose control like that.

          𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃;   Peter does not remember,   the way she had been there since the advent of the trials,   always behind the scenes but her handwriting on the CHALKBOARD,   amidst Bell’s and Walter’s.   But Kathryn does,   remembers her picking her up when Walter refused to go home and Elizabeth couldn’t manage to pick them up herself.   Now she leans against her desk with Kat unwilling to even take a seat.   Away from Fred and Tom, she’s able to talk OPENLY ――   but it doesn’t make it easier.     “ Yes, I knew what he was doing in Baghdad. ”     An admission that shouldn’t cut the way it does.   Badge around her waist and gun inside the holster; she’s busy.   The recent Pattern-related events have given no time to BREATHE ――   every moment that is not spent out on the field,   she spends with Broyles and Sharp.   The lab, she stays clear of,   too unsettling the knowledge that no other Bishop knows the amount of TIME she spent with the family,   all those years, all those godforsaken memories.   Even during Elizabeth’s funeral,   she knew better than to leave the shadows.   But to recognise the way Kat looks at her ――   nothing could hurt MORE.     “ But I never let anything get close to him, Kat.   I raised him ――   like I raised you. ”