HETEROCHROMIA
By Angelina Vansen (angelina@gunmetaldark.com)

RATING: NC-17 for sexual and dark themes. Warnings here for both.
CODES: Uber J/7
SUMMARY: Set on present day Earth, local doctor Caitlyn Gunn (Janeway) has embarked on an intense affair with Tigerlily Abeyta (Seven of Nine) the fifteen year old daughter of her receptionist. In case you've forgotten what happened in the previous chapter, here's a nice link for you. Isn't Auntie Angelina generous? Since I wrote the last chapter, there has been a little to-do in some quarters concerning the fact that Tigerlily is a minor in most parts of the world. So if that bothers you, or you are worried you may be arrested, I wouldn't read this. I don't want you to.


Chapter Two

Caitlyn's head is in the pillow and she's trying to sleep. She's been trying to sleep for the past four days, ever since she saw the first news report. It hasn't been easy. Nights are long, and every time she hears a car outside on the road she thinks it's over.

In short, she's terrified.

They've been moving from motel to motel, driving across the country at night, spending days hidden away in these dingy little rooms that always smell of damp, or drink, or both.

At first, the first couple of days, Caitlyn had found it quite exciting. Romantic. They had barely been out of bed. There had been a kind of insane freedom about it all, about letting go of everything and just throwing herself at Tigerlily, merging with her. It had felt good. Right. Perfect.

She has given up everything for Tigerlily. Literally. Her house, her job, her place in society. If she had any doubts about that before, she doesn't have them now. The news reports she saw on the third day put paid to that.

They have been baying for blood. Her blood. The local news particularly, where they were taking great relish in interviewing every friend, acquaintance and distant relative of both her and Tigerlily. All of them expressing their outrage, their fears for Tigerlily's safety.

After they began showing a photograph of a ten-year-old Tigerlily in school uniform alongside the caption "Snatched Schoolgirl", Caitlyn knew she was fucked. Oh no, there was no way she was getting out of this one without a jail sentence.

Originally, she had thought she could pass off this little escapade as an attempt to save a suicidal teenager's life. Drastic, sure, irresponsible for a middle-aged family doctor, but not the kind of thing one went to prison for. She had figured that as long as no one knew (or could prove) that she and Tigerlily had gone to bed together, she could probably get away with it if push came to shove.

Unfortunately, there was no way she could do that now.

Tigerlily, it seemed, had kept a diary. A diary she hadn't thought to bring with her when she decided on this little sojourn. A diary she had poured her innermost thoughts into, every detail of their relationship, every time they had met for sex, everything they had said, everything they had worn, everything that had ever happened between them, down to the minutest detail. Then she had left it conveniently stuffed underneath her mattress for her poor, terrified mother to find when her daughter went mysteriously missing.

The newspapers have been having a field day with it, especially the gutter press. They have been practically salivating over the lengthy description the young woman gave of losing her virginity to Caitlyn at the age of fourteen. Reading it back to herself yesterday morning from a paper she had found in the trash, she had been sickened to see they had even printed Tigerlily's fears over pleasing her older lover, fears they had interpreted as symptomatic of Caitlyn's svengali-like hold over her. It all sounded so awful. Especially for the poor girl's mother.

Caitlyn hasn't been thinking about Jessie Abeyta. She hasn't been able to. Her receptionist is a good woman, friendly, personable. Not someone she knows too deeply, but someone she likes. Someone who respected her and trusted her. She hasn't been able to think about what this must have done to her.

She isn't thinking about it. She's trying not to. She's trying to think what she's going to do, she's trying to keep making decisions. She daren't stop.

Right now, Tigerlily is in the bathroom, dyeing her hair. Caitlyn can smell the ammonia from here, it's cloying in the small room, slightly acidic in the back of her throat. It's an oppressive smell but she doesn't want to open the window because she is too frightened to open the curtains to do it.

She bought the hair dye yesterday. It will help if Tigerlily looks older. Thanks to the news reports, everyone will be looking for a child. She dyed her own hair as soon as they got into the room this morning. A deep shade of red, cherry in the dark tones, golden in her highlights. She had looked at herself in the mirror as she'd dried it with the coin-operated dryer anchored to the dressing table, not recognising herself. Behind her, Tigerlily had also watched her, her eyes big and sullen.

"It suits you," is all she had said. Then she had got up and gone into the tiny bathroom to dye her own hair, leaving Caitlyn to try to sleep.

It is too bright for her to sleep. Too hot, as well. Even though she is wearing only a t-shirt and her panties, she is sweaty and uncomfortable and can't seem to stop moving around under the sheet.

Outside she can hear cars passing on the road, heading up towards the lake nearby. On a day like this, it will be busy, she thinks. Families, dog walkers. People fishing. Too many people. They will be stuck in here at least until the sun goes down.

She doesn't know if she can stand it, but she doesn't have a choice. Never mind what will happen to her, she is still haunted by the thought of Tigerlily taking her own life. Obsessed.

It seems that every time she has a thought to herself it twists into an image of her young lover hanging herself or slitting her wrists or blowing her brains out with that ugly, oily gun that she's buried in the bottom of her handbag out of Tigerlily's way. It's driving her crazy. She can't let that happen and she won't. She is determined.

She sighs loudly to herself, acknowledging that once again, sleep isn't coming. She sits up, hugging her knees to her chest, wanting to cry with frustration. She settles for going to the small, scale-encrusted kettle and making herself a cup of instant hot coffee. She sits up in bed drinking it, flicking through a newspaper that she bought three days ago but not reading it. Not daring to put the TV on. Wishing for the hundredth time she'd got her reading glasses.

Eventually, Tigerlily comes out of the bathroom looking pink and fresh from a hot shower, her hair wrapped in a towel.

Caitlyn offers her a lopsided grin. "How's your hair?" she asks.

Tigerlily remains stone-faced. "Fine," she shrugs. Then she sees what Caitlyn is drinking. "No wonder you can't sleep," she says.

"Oh, I know," Caitlyn laughs. "I just ... I need something ..."

"You can do better than coffee."

Caitlyn grins saucily, thinking she is talking about sex. That is one thing that really does pass the time. They've reached new heights these past few days. She crawls up to where Tigerlily sits on the bed, wrapping her arms around her from behind.

"What did you have in mind?" she asks, her voice low and throaty.

Tigerlily shrugs her off. "I'm bored," she states.

"I know, so am I. It's frustrating ..."

"It's more than fucking frustrating, Cait!" the young woman explodes. "I'm going crazy."

"Me too. But we can't help that, darling. You know we can't."

"Yes," Tigerlily concurs, chewing the inside of her cheek angrily.

Caitlyn pinches the bridge of her nose. A headache is forming. She needs some fresh air, a good meal and eight good hours of sleep. None seem likely right now.

"We'll move on again tonight," she says. "Somewhere quieter. Maybe we'll be able to wait it out somewhere a little more ... entertaining."

Tigerlily says nothing. She towels her damp legs angrily.

"I don't know what to do for the best, Tigerlily," she says. "I'll be honest, I ... I'm starting to think we could have done things a whole lot better."

"No bullshit," sighs Tigerlily heavily.

Caitlyn is starting to feel desperate. Close to tears. It seems that everything is spiralling out of her control. Tigerlily too.

"Maybe I should take you home," she says. Just wanting to say it.

"What?"

"We're being hunted, darling. I'm being hunted. I don't know how much longer we're going to be able to do this."

"What, so you want to just give up?!"

"No, I ..."

"Yes you do! You want to pack up and give up and go home, don't you?!"

"No, I don't. I'm not stupid, I know there's no way in hell I can do that now. Thanks to that diary."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What do you THINK it means?" she spits.

Tigerlily gets up with a snarl, taking Caitlyn by the shoulders, hard. Despite her youth, she has several inches on her lover. "I went through HELL this past year with you, Cait. Not knowing if you loved me, not understanding what the hell was going on inside your head. I couldn't talk to anyone. I NEEDED that diary, okay? It stopped me from going insane sometimes!"

Caitlyn nods, quiet, not wanting to upset her. Thinking again about the gun. "I know," she says. "I'm sorry."

But Tigerlily seems far from satisfied. "We are NOT giving up. You understand? I am not going back to my mother, or school, or anywhere near that town, ever again."

"Okay ... sshhh ... it's okay ..." Caitlyn desperately tries to pacify her. Putting a hand on her face.

"No, it's NOT!" Tigerlily screams, pulling away from Caitlyn's touch. "Jesus Christ, why don't you understand?! This is not a game I'm playing, I'm not kidding around! I'm not ever going back. Ever. One way or another."

The spectre of her suicide again, and again the horrible image of going into the little bathroom, finding it full of steam and hair dye fumes and seeing her ... seeing her, sitting in the shower with her wrists spread wide and dark treacle blood all over her pale white legs and body. Dead. That image. Anything but that.

Urgently, she pulls Tigerlily close to her so she can feel the warmth of her skin and the movement of the breath in her chest.

"Sshhh," she says, stroking the back of the young woman's neck, the soft, soft skin. "It's okay. It's okay, you don't have to go back, I wasn't saying that."

"Good," spits Tigerlily, pushing Caitlyn away again. She sits in silence on the edge of the bed , looking down at the floor.

Clearly, this is really getting to her. Not that Caitlyn is surprised. The lack of fresh air, the almost stifling mustiness of motel room after motel room, the constant risk of being caught ... It's a wonder they aren't both insane.

Caitlyn gets up and goes over to the window, wishing she could pull back the curtains and open the window for some air. They both need it.

"I'm just not sure how much longer we're going to be able to get away with this," she sighs.

Tigerlily is silent.

"I mean ... we're going to get recognised. These motel clerks, all they do all day is watch TV, it only takes one of them ..."

"You've got red hair now, and I don't look anything like that photo they've been showing."

"Red hair's not exactly plastic surgery, is it."

Tigerlily does laugh at that, a laugh of sorts, anyway.

"It's just so hard, darling. I want to be with you, God knows I want that more than anything, but I'm so scared they're going to catch us."

There is a long, overpowering silence then.

Tigerlily breathes. "I won't let that happen," she says quietly.

Caitlyn shakes her head, her throat tight with tears. What exactly does Tigerlily think she would be able to do?

The young woman gets up from the bed and comes to her, wrapping her in her arms and holding her tightly. Now she is the one doing the comforting, she is the one reassuring Caitlyn that everything will be all right.

Caitlyn wants to believe Tigerlily as the young woman kisses down hard on her lips and tangles her fingers in her newly-red hair. She wants to believe in the strength she feels in these long, youthful limbs.

These aren't kisses of love or passion right now, they are promises, evidence. Conviction. Tigerlily is not Tigerlily. She's Joan of Arc. She's on fire. As her lips roll over Caitlyn's trembling throat, she is at war.

She pins Caitlyn to the bed and holds her hands against the mattress by the wrists, hard. Pushing up her t-shirt to take each of her breasts into her mouth, clamping the nipples between her white teeth hard. Far off in the distance, Caitlyn hears her own gasps of pain, her own pleas for more of that pain.

The scent of Tigerlily, the sweet pressure of her naked breasts as she lets the towel fall off her body to the sheets. Those breasts, the weight and size of them, the brush of those rose-pink nipples on Caitlyn's bare belly. There is nothing else in the whole world right now. There is only this bed, these moments, those hands, that mouth ...

That mouth, travelling over the undersides of her breasts and dropping over her belly button with kisses like raindrops. Fingernails light and digging and dragging down the tense muscles of her stomach. That mouth again, reaching its goal and lapping gently, Tigerlily's tongue rasping softly on her sex.

Caitlyn's own voice, choking out cries, sounding like someone else's. But then, she realises as the wave rises in her pelvis, she IS someone else. Already it seems centuries ago that she was Dr. Gunn, sitting in her office doling out prescriptions. She will never be that person again, she knows. Never.

It hits her like a thunderclap and she comes, slamming upwards with her hips and biting on her bottom lip. Feeling herself rise almost out of her own body, not herself. Not herself at all.

She comes to her senses and sees her own hair spread out across the pillow, looking red like fire. Like a phoenix from the flames, she is reborn. She turns to Tigerlily and sees her hair as well, tumbled from the towel in which she'd wrapped it. Something, some flicker of something close to recognition passes through her. Tigerlily's blonde. Pale blonde.

I know this woman, she thinks for a second. But that's insane. Tigerlily's not a woman, she's a schoolgirl Caitlyn's known for years. But still, there she is, different and familiar.

Perhaps Tigerlily isn't Tigerlily any more, then, either. Caitlyn thinks this as she's turning over, crushing her palms against those voluptuous breasts and grinding herself unashamedly against Tigerlily's thigh. Taking greedy kisses from those lips that taste of her own sex. Perhaps this journey's changed them both too much, so much that Tigerlily's right, they could never go back.

She takes hold of a handful of Tigerlily's hair and holds her head back roughly. Much more aggressive than she normally is. Feeling free ... wild ... abandoned. Pulling Tigerlily's legs apart and pushing two fingers inside her, thrusting and digging. Almost wanting to hurt her, brand her, bind them together with pain and fire and destiny.

Tigerlily's eyes blaze blue, seeming even bluer now with her hair so much lighter. She bares her teeth at Caitlyn, hissing her pleasure between them, grabbing and clawing at Caitlyn's skin. She rakes her nails down Caitlyn's thighs, leaving red marks on white skin that hasn't seen the sun in days.

"Fuck me ... fuck me ... fuck me ..." she growls in her throat, over and over and over again. Caitlyn does fuck her, driving against her, riding her harder and harder until suddenly, shatteringly, she reaches her climax.

Tigerlily arches up, letting out a full-throated scream. Eyes shut tight, hips off the bed, a flush rising from her breasts to her face. She looks so beautiful in sexual extremis, so much like a force of nature.

As she collapses on the pillow there are tears of pleasure in the corners of her eyes. She seems unable to form words.

Caitlyn smiles and kisses her and they lie together holding each other on the musty sheets on the hard mattress until slowly the rest of the world begins to seep back in.

As the sweat cools on their skin it begins to feel clammy and claustrophobic to be lying in this room in the middle of the day without natural light or fresh air.

Tigerlily is asleep. Caitlyn envies her. Not even sexual exhaustion is enough for her. She finds her t-shirt among the crumpled sheets and puts it back on over her head. After she finds her panties she gets up and goes to sit in the bathroom, just for a change of scenery. She chances opening the window a sliver, and is surprised by just how good it feels to have the slight breeze blowing in on her face.

She really wants a gin and tonic, or a cold beer. Even a coke would be good right now. She's drunk too much coffee and water from bathroom taps recently. As a doctor she knows that this is really not a good idea.

It will be hours before they can chance leaving again, and even after dark it will be a big risk. The worry of being spotted, of trying to keep to back-roads, of trying to read a map in the dark while Tigerlily sleeps on the seat beside her is once again looming. None of that is easy.

Caitlyn sits down on the toilet, trying not to think about it. Wishing she could think of something, some plan to get them out of this dreadful, fearful existence. Right now, the weeks and months ahead look much the same as today, and she really doesn't think she can do this. She really thinks she will go crazy.

Once again, the image of her mother brandishing her shovel at Mrs. Rapeloew next door came to her mind. Just how far from that is she right now?

A knock on the bathroom door makes her jump out of her skin. For a second she is convinced it is the police. But then there is Tigerlily's voice, still a little croaky from sleep.

"Cait," she says softly. "Are you there?"

Fear in her voice, a little. She sounds like a child again.

"Yeah," Caitlyn calls out, her heart rate rising again. She gets up off the toilet and opens the door.

"Oh, thank God!" Tigerlily all but collapses with relief. She grabs Caitlyn's hand and pulls her close.

"What's the matter?" asks Caitlyn. "What's wrong?" She holds Tigerlily tightly.

"I thought you'd gone!" the young girl wails. "I thought you'd waited till I fell asleep and then left me here!"

"What ... no! Oh God ... sweetheart. As if I'd do that ..." she hushes and rocks Tigerlily back and forth in her arms.

Tigerlily starts to sob, that lost, hopeless crying she was doing on the first day, the day they decided to run away together. Caitlyn can't stand the sound of that sobbing. All those images, the horrible images of Tigerlily dead and in her coffin come back to her mind.

Despite the fact the young woman is several inches taller, Caitlyn cradles her into her neck, lets her cry and soothes her. Wanting her to stop crying. Needing her to.

"I opened the door," Tigerlily explains when her sobbing has slowed enough for her to catch her breath. "I woke up and I needed some air so I opened the door just a crack to breathe ... and when I couldn't see the car, I thought you'd gone!"

She dissolves into fresh tears and wraps herself even tighter into Caitlyn's embrace.

But Caitlyn is gripped by a new terror. It feels like her throat has closed over. "You couldn't see the car?" she asks.

"No," Tigerlily replies. "I thought you parked it right out front this morning, but ..."

"I did!" Caitlyn cries. "Oh, Jesus Christ ..."

She is out of Tigerlily's arms and across the room in four strides. She throws open the door to brilliant, blinding sunshine, the kind she hasn't seen in days. Her eyes sting and take a moment to adjust.

When they do, she still cannot bring herself to believe what they tell her. The car is not there. Only a space, right out in front of the door. A little broken glass, probably from her window.

"No!" she cries. "My car! My motherfucking car!"

"Oh God," says Tigerlily from behind her. Her voice is little more than a whisper.

Vomit rises up in Caitlyn's throat and she pushes past Tigerlily in a rush to get to the bathroom. Once there she falls to her knees and throws up into the toilet, three times.

Tigerlily stands in the doorway, watching her, trembling slightly.

"What are we going to do?" she asks in that same small voice as Caitlyn wipes her mouth with some toilet paper.

"I don't know," Caitlyn replies with her head still over the toilet bowl. "I've got no idea."

"When did they take it? We should have heard them ..."

Caitlyn snorts. "We were probably too busy fucking," she spits.

Tigerlily looks at the floor.

"Goddamn it!" Caitlyn screams. She slams her fist against the cold, dirty tiles, and it really hurts.

She can't help herself; she bursts into tears as well, tears of rage and frustration. The theft of her car is just the icing on the cake. This has been a hell of a week.

Tigerlily comes over to her, puts her hand on Caitlyn's shoulder, trying to offer her some comfort. Caitlyn slaps it away angrily.

"Don't touch me right now!" she shouts at the young woman. "Please!"

"Cait ..."

"Don't!" she yells. "What the HELL are we going to do, Tigerlily? Answer me that! You're the one with all the plans, all the brilliant fucking ideas about running away together. You tell me what the hell we are supposed to do now!"

Tigerlily takes a breath, but Caitlyn does not even let her get started.

"I mean, is it not bad enough that we ran away with nothing but the clothes on our backs? That we've got the police hunting us and your family heading up a nice little witch hunt? Now ... now I've got no car. No maps, no way of telling where we're going, no way to get out of here!"

"I know ..."

"We're FUCKED, you know that? Fucked!"

It's started now, all the rage and frustration of the past few days is pouring out of her. She feels like she could smash this place up, like she could kill them both, like she could get Tigerlily's gun out of her handbag, kick the door open and kill every person she sees.

She pushes past Tigerlily and goes back into the bedroom. Picks up her coffee mug and throws it straight at the young woman's head.

"This is your fault!" she screams.

Tigerlily ducks the mug easily, but it shatters on the wall behind her, splattering her with shards of china and cold coffee dregs.

"What the hell are you DOING?!" the young woman demands.

Caitlyn is too far gone to see reason. She has something else in her hand now, a heavy glass ashtray from the bedside table. She sends it spinning through the air and this time Tigerlily isn't so lucky. It strikes her on the shoulderblade as she tries to twist out of its path.

She cries out in pain and lunges as Caitlyn gets hold of the bedside lamp. It is heavy and metal and Tigerlily is clearly not keen on dodging it.

"No!" she shouts, managing to wrestle it from Caitlyn's grip. Despite her youth, she is much stronger.

The two of them struggle for a moment, and then Tigerlily ends it by hitting Caitlyn, backhanded across the cheekbone, knocking her backwards onto the bed.

"Calm down!" she shouts.

Caitlyn lies there, gaping up at the young woman. She brings her hand up to touch her throbbing face. It feels hot. She will not be surprised if there's a bruise there tomorrow.

Tigerlily is breathing heavily, her eyes bulging out of her head, her bare breasts rising and falling rapidly. She is watching Caitlyn, making sure she is not going to throw anything else.

She isn't going to throw anything though. All she is going to do is cry.

"I only had four payments left on that car," she wails.

Tigerlily stares at her. "Well, you weren't going to make them now anyway," she says.

That is true, but it really doesn't make Caitlyn feel any better. It's not really about her car, anyway. It's the fact that they're trapped now, totally trapped. Whatever they do from here will likely get them caught.

"What the hell are we going to do ...?" Caitlyn sobs, burying her face in her hands, balling her fists against her eyes like a child.

She rolls onto her side, into a foetal position on the bed. She sobs for all she is worth, absolutely at the end of her rope.

Tigerlily does not answer. She is moving around the room, dressing herself. Her bra and panties, a t-shirt they bought from a roadside tourist trap, knotted at the front so it shows her belly. Caitlyn's jeans, too small for her but left undone so they hang low on her hips. Caitlyn's sunglasses too, propped in that brilliant blonde hair. Her own lip gloss on those full pouty lips.

She picks up the room key from the dresser.

"Stay there," she tells Caitlyn, and leaves, slamming the door behind her before Caitlyn can even lift her head from the bed to protest.

Not that she could even if she wanted to. Caitlyn has no will left at all. If Tigerlily wants to get caught, why not? It's going to happen now anyway. She might as well take a walk to the nearest payphone and call the police herself.

Ironically, she can sleep now. It comes over her before she even realises she's tired. One minute she is crying, the next, she is nothing and nowhere at all.

She wakes to Tigerlily's hand on her face, smoothing back her hair. Calling her name.

"Cait ... Cait, wake up ..." she hears.

She opens her eyes and blinks. Some time has passed; the light through the curtains has a different shade. In a while, it will be evening.

"Come on," says Tigerlily. "Get your stuff together, I got us a ride."

"Wha ... what?" she manages to croak.

"A man ... from the bar. He's got a trailer. He's going North, he said he'll give us a ride."

Caitlyn blinks again, trying desperately to bring her head back from sleepville. "We ... we can't do that ... we'll get caught ..." she whispers.

Tigerlily shrugs. "Have you got a better plan?" she asks icily.

Caitlyn doesn't.

"It's a risk, I know ..." Tigerlily says. She's asking permission, almost.

Caitlyn looks at her face, wondering who this guy is and what he might expect in return for this favour. But then she thinks of the police, of prison, of going home and Tigerlily acting on her threat to kill herself. At least this way they have a chance.

She nods.

Tigerlily nods back, a little smile on her face. She helps Caitlyn to her feet and they start to pack up the room.

It takes them less than ten minutes.

Then they are trudging out across the parking lot, heads down, heading for the bar. Feeling exposed and dangerous out in the early evening sun. Feeling scared as well. Caitlyn is.

Tigerlily leads her to a trailer, parked at the back of the bar. It's old and dirty. There is a dreamcatcher hanging from the rearview mirror.

Right then, Caitlyn knows this is the wrong thing to do. She knows it. She doesn't want to get into this van, she doesn't want to let Tigerlily get into it, either.

But it's too late now. A tall man gets out, a tall, dark Spanish-looking man. He holds his hand out to her. He does not smile but looks at her with his dark unreadable eyes.

Tigerlily smiles. "This is my mother," she says.

Caitlyn looks at her sharply, horrified. It's sensible, she supposes. Still, it's a bit of a blow to the ego.

"Hello, mother," says the man, his lips curling slightly. "You have a name?"

"Ca - Caitlyn," she stammers, too shellshocked to think of a quick enough lie.

He smiles as he shakes her hand, as if it was the answer he was expecting. Her own paranoia, she hopes.

"I'm Chum," he tells her.

"Chum?" she asks, but he doesn't answer. He climbs into the driver's seat. Tigerlily gets into the back. No going back now then. She gets up into the passenger seat and sits down by his side as he starts the engine.

She is not sure about this. Not sure at all.


TO BE CONTINUED ....


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