This story is being reposted from 2012 as part of this endeavor. It’s been lightly edited for spelling, punctuation, grammar and for clarity. See the original here.
Daniel, Vala and the sunrise—just a little bit of talking. And a lot more action.
1,632 words | [PG-13]
It’s still dark when Daniel’s watch goes off. He gropes for the small button that stifles the noise, groaning into his jacket balled under his head. With a yawn and great effort, he hauls himself up and slides his feet into his boots.
The air is crisp, smelling of pine and fresh rain. Daniel shivers and pulls his jacket closed, tucking his hands under his arms. He expects to see the fire going, maybe some coffee already brewing, but the clearing outside his tent is eerily empty—the fire long burned out.
“Crap,” he mumbles as he rubs the tired from his eyes. Where the hell is Vala? Mitchell is going to kill her.
He spends several minutes wandering around the woods before he finds her. She’s sitting on an outcrop of rocks, the valley far below. The view is amazing as the sun begins to peek over the horizon—the sky turning a pale shade of pink. Vala’s got her legs tucked up, chin resting on her knees, arms tight around her. Daniel can’t see her face, but he notices how her shoulders relax when a salty breeze blows in from the sea beyond the distant hills.
Her hair flutters around her, and a hand comes up to push it from her face. It glistens in the dawn light like the moon shimmering on a placid lake. Daniel’s struck by how beautiful she looks—hair coming loose, clothes coated in a layer of dust, the first rays of the morning sun casting a glow around her. His pulse quickens, unwanted thoughts rushing through his mind.
He can’t deny there’s always been some kind of attraction—even as they duked it out on the Prometheus all those years ago—but this feels different. His stomach flips, curls in on itself until his insides feel like a tightly wound ball of rubber bands. Just waiting to snap. Read more…