fic sample;

She knows that she's screaming.

That's the first thing that's different - that all the stories, and shows, and MySpace lyrics get wrong: There's no flash of understanding, no moment of starstruck revelation.

Someone is screaming. Alice knows that it's her.

Everything is flame, and then everything is nothing, and then it's sat in front of her in a tweed little suit; knee crossed over trouser, monstrously normal. Her head swims. Someone is laughing.

Everything raises a teacup and tuts: "That's enough of that,"

So maybe it is. There's a cup in her own hand (glimmering blue glass — no, the cup, not her hand; her hand is whole flesh and the cup — only the cup is shining reflected fire and,)

"I said, that's quite enough."

Alice stops heaving, breath caught; joke forgotten. The punchline reversed and unthrown.

"Unthroned," She murmurs, still adaze. Tweed's eyes narrow.

"You may find the next few minutes disorienting," Sympathetic. Treacle-sweet. Tea drips brown, blots a forgotten saucer. The saucer is a page. The page is a deal. "But you've all the time in the world to decide."

"We aren't in the world," She hazards. Another giggle threatens her teeth; Alice grinds against it. The words come faster, thicker than they ought. Her throat is raw. Someone has been screaming, "That's what this says, doesn't it? That we're between. That's where you're from."

Between. A flash of understanding, revelation: Save a conscience, and spare — what?

Her life? Theirs? Quentin,

"We can manage that."

Tweed unrolls the contract; Quentin bleeds into a cave. Alice is sitting at a table, and there's a pen in her hand — that's the second thing that's different.

The second thing is, that she signs.