tiredI think I'll keep this public (for now)--not sure it'll make any difference, as I'm not sure that anyone but you,
officerjudy, actually knows I'm here, and I dislike intensely this feeling that I'm talking to myself. I mean, come on, if I'm going to talk to myself, I want to be sure of the fact!Anyway.
As the title suggests, this is an as-yet-untitled angstfic, specifically picking on Mike Cutter. It's not what I would consider intensely angsty, in that the pain is mostly physical rather than emotional, and ... well, I almost said superficial, but that's not really true ... it's a flesh wound. Yes, that's it. In any case, it has its moments.
It's also not done, which is why it's not titled. Oh, and if this ends up where I'm planning to take it ... there may be a post--or even two--that go back to friends-only. Fair warning.
After all, some things are not for ... certain eyes. ::evil grin::
Oh, yeah. They're not mine, not making money, blah, blah, blah.
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[Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] (Friends Only)
