To feel Guilt or Not to feel Guilt
By: Mog

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Rating: PSI (Penn Started It)
feedback welcome! maria.mogrevo@optiva.com

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"To regret or not to regret- that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler only
to think of slings and arrows of outrageous fortune brought upon one of the
Seven, or to take arms against a sea of mamby-pamby, sappy fic readers, And
by opposing, end him.  For Him To die- To sleep no more; and by 'a sleep' to
say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir
to.  Especially after Maggie's been whompin' on 'em for two pages.."
Hamlet, the original Great Dane.
 

>>The dark haired girl slit her eyes open and gave her friend a maniacle
grin. "Do you think I'd get a lot of death threats if I happened to
'accidentally' write another deathfic?"

Penn's heart suddenly stopped beating. "Not JD!"

Maggs waved her hand at the brunette. "Of course not. <<

It was at this point that the little voice in the back of Maria's head
dropped its feet from off the lateral hemisphere, grey-matter table it had
them propped up on; untangling a bit of basal ganglia caught around its
ankle.  The voice sensed something the rest of the brain hadn't (that *is*
the job of the little voice, after all).

It pulled out an 'oh, I hope this isn't going where I think it's going' card
and dropped it into the slot marked 'foreshadowing awareness'.

>>Cassie's little C-Harlot threat along with that MARY SUE drivel is still
roaming around
in my brain. No, I was thinking more along the lines of Ezra."<<

Mog's heart leapt into her throat.  Damn it!

Little Voice - 1
Hope - 0

Caught in your own little trap, eh?  Maria had whined about lack of Ezra fic
on the list.

'Well, I hope you're happy, missy, cuz I get the feeling you're about to get
slapped upside your pretty little fushcia head with some.'

Wait! Maybe if...but her lame attempts at Maggie-distraction faded as she
read the next line,

>>Maggie's eyes twinkled with delight as she jumped up to stand by Penny.<<

'Aaahhh! Not the *eye twinkle*! My little pretty boy is doomed!'

She sighed heavily, knowing that nothing she could do would purge the
atrocious, depraved, nefarious, vile..

'Hey! Little voice, here, I think they get the picture.  Get on with it.'

...vile musings from The Evil One's system.

Putting fingertips to keyboard Mog wrote herself up a bottle of 2 year old
single-malt. (Damn again...Make that *12* year old. -- When's Judy getting
back?  I'm lost without a beta'er.)

If she was going to have to have a little piece of her heart drawn from her
body, encased only in liquid, transparent drops and pulled from the corners
of her hazel orbs she was damn well gonna be sopping in melancholy when it
happened.  Not shooting someone in the back wasn't the only thing she
learned from Chris Larabee.

Alll right, Maggs, ::heavy sigh:: let loose the dogs of war, Release the
puppies of purgatory, free the Cockers of the Crusades.  BUT!.....(to
paraphrase Cyrano) he better go down with a piercing epigram upon his lips
and preventing cold steel from going through one of the guys' hearts.

Maybe Nathan, cuz he's never thought too highly of Ezra anyway.  At least
not on the show, but we writers have done a pretty good job of patching
that. ;-)
 
 

>>"I think you better ask Mog."<<