so hot i could die

[schmerica]

I just realized that I am an idiot and forgot to save all the sexy, sexy Fraser/Victoria screencaps before pgsnapshots.com shut down this weekend. Those are, like, a necessity of life, dude! Damn my lack of s1 dvds.

To make up for it, I present a poll.

[Poll #485744]

Edited to add: How did I forget Fraser on his back on his bed with the suspenders and undershirt as one of the options in question 2? I fail.

Comments

[abelladonna.livejournal.com]

Okay, trying again. This might not help, but it's what your poll made me think of. And, since I wrote it, someone should read it.
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She wasn't sure what had happened. She didn't come here for this, for him, not like this. But when he opened the door, he looked so… so normal and so damn clean and everything that she had held inside since that day burst loose. Suddenly she was shoving at his shoulders, hard, wanting to hurt him, to tear him limb from limb.

To make him feel the way that she'd felt that day, in handcuffs, being lead away while he stood in the snow, back perfectly straight, eyes distant. It was as if those few days meant nothing to him. As if she meant nothing to him.

Victoria had sworn that she would never be nothing again.

She wouldn't be her mother, with her endless parade of loser boyfriends, none of them with jobs beyond drinking and smacking Victoria and her little sister around while their mother watched with gin-soaked eyes.

Just watched. That was all her mother had done. She'd never stepped between her daughters and her boyfriends, not one time. Victoria had protected her little sister as much as she could, but she couldn't always be there. To Victoria, it was enough that those men never visited Cathy's room late at night like they had hers.

Of course, mother never believed her. Margaret Metcalf was a drunk, and Victoria had gotten herself and her sister Catherine out as soon as she could. They'd both sworn in blood that they would never be like her.

And they never had been.

Cathy married young, was widowed too young, and almost fell apart without her husband. But Victoria, she refused to depend on a man for anything more than the obvious. One scheme to another, one bad job to another, and finally, she ended up in that bank. Not that it was the first illegal thing she'd ever done; it wasn't even the first bank.

But it was another kind of first. Because out there, on the tundra, in the frigid cold, Victoria began to hate herself. Because of Benton Fraser. Because he held her, and spoke to her in low, soft tones. Because he held her fingers in his mouth to keep her awake, to keep her alive.

Because he made her love him. Because over those few days, Victoria learned things about herself that she'd never known. She hadn't thought she was capable of love. But that was the joke of it- she was. As they lay, huddled together, within sight of that church, she'd done something she'd once thought impossible; she asked for help. She'd nearly begged Ben to let her go. Victoria Metcalf, begging. It hurt to think of it now.

(Cont in next comment.)