Write Me into Your Daydream

"Don't do this, please James," I grabbed his arm and he turned to face me, "Let's just go, I don't want to be here."

"Don't worry, babe," he smiled as one of the nameless and faceless people in the barn with us handed him the gun. "We've played close to fifteen times now and no one's died. No one's even gotten hurt."

"Luck," I whispered, squeezing his hand, "You've been lucky fifteen times… how long do you think that's going to last?"

He smiled and in that smile I saw everything I needed to know. James would never believe me; he would never take this seriously. I'd known from the beginning that he was addicted to adrenalin. He literally hung over the side of the hand rail in the mall when we were on the third floor and said he would let go if I didn't go out with him. He was only kidding of course but I could see the rush he got. That rush, it meant everything to him.

"Jess," he said running his thumb over the back of my hand. "It's perfectly safe. I'll prove it to you," he turned to look at his friends, "WHO WANTS TO PROVE IT TO HER?!" He shouted at the nameless, faceless creatures around us who whooped and cheered. He laughed as he pointed it at a girl a few feet away who giggled and told him to bring it on. James pulled the trigger.

Nothing.

"See?" he turned back to me, those blue eyes met mine and I felt my world begin to fall apart. "Or do you need me to prove it again?" He pointed it at a boy this time. He was a kid, maybe fourteen, and he looked completely terrified.

"No James!" I shouted shoving his hand away before he could pull the trigger.

He looked at me like I'd struck him, "What the hell is your problem, Jess?"

"What the hell is yours?" I countered. "He's a kid!"

"He's fine!"

"He's lucky," I gestured around us, "You're all lucky, but your luck will run out and someone will die!"

"No one's going to die!"

I shook my head, "James… please, end this."

"Jess," he sighed, rolling his eyes, "You're over reacting."

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat and nodded my head slowly, "Okay..." I started. "Okay, if I'm over reacting then point it at me."

"What?"

"You heard me," I growled now, "If it's perfectly safe then point the gun at me… and shoot. But know that if you pull that trigger we're done. It doesn't matter if I live or die because I will walk out of here and I will never be looking back."

He shrugged taking a step back. He pressed the barrel against my forehead as a tear fell down my face. When I first met James, in that mall as he hung off the edge, I felt an instant connection to him. I loved him. I thought he felt it too. I thought he loved me too.

He loved the rush, he loved adrenalin.

He never loved me.

*BANG*

I pushed my laptop back to look at my work. Some major edits were required but overall I liked the story and it was an adequate first draft. I considered sending it to my agent who would then send it to the paper as proof that I was in fact working on their precious story but the thought made me laugh. Mayfor Night had a reputation to keep up and waiting till the absolute last minute to submit her work was of one of the things that, in my opinion, made her great.

Mayfor didn't play by the rules her typical clients tried to tie her down with. She wasn't afraid to tell them what she thought about their 'deadlines' and 'updates' that they tried to insist on. She worked at her own pace and if they wanted her to write for them then they would have fall into step with her.

How absurd, I thought with a bemused smile. Technically, I was Mayfor. Mayfor Night was my penname and yet I treated her like one of my characters. She was an ever growing story to be written down. But her biggest adventure, I thought, her biggest adventure was just around the corner.

My laptop was yanked out of my hands and I looked up just in time to see a flash of blonde running down the hall. "Aleta!" I shouted running after her. I turned into the hall as the bathroom door slammed and I pounded my fist against the wood. "Give it back!"

"Shhhh," she giggled, "I'm trying to read."

"No…." I groaned, banging my head against the cool surface of the door, "it's not ready…"

"Which is why I'm in the bathroom where you can't take it away from me," I could hear the smirk in her voice. "You really have no faith in love do you?"

"Why do you say that?"

She opened the door, "He shot her."

"So?"

"So, they were in love!"

"You obviously didn't really read it," I said yanking the computer out of her hands, "because if you had then you would know that he never really loved her. He loved the thrill of danger and taking risks."

"Then why ask her out in the first place?" she countered. "What about her made him want to ask her out?"

"The need for human companionship," I groaned out an exasperated sigh as I turned away from her. "I don't know, Aleta."

"You're the author," she protested, following me into the living room, "You're supposed to know everything about the story and the characters!"

"I'm still fleshing them out!" I shouted back as I set the computer on the coffee table. "This is an awful first draft of a story I hadn't even thought of before I started it this morning! I haven't don't character profiles or anything but this! So will you please back off?"

She gave me a nonchalant shrug walking into the kitchen for breakfast and I pinched the bridge of my nose. It was times like this that I wished I was more like Mayfor, who would have said something smart and then been the one to walk away. Mayfor would have never let Aleta get under her skin like I did. Mayfor would have the answer to the questions she asked. Mayfor is brilliant. I'm just me.

The phone rang, drawing me back to reality while my sister yelled from the kitchen, "Telephone!"

I rolled my eyes, "You could pick it up instead of being thoroughly unhelpful." She only smirked and I contemplated kicking her as I passed by the table. "Hello?"

"Lux?" My agent, Megan, sounded concerned on the other end. Probably because of the amount of menace in my voice when I answered the phone. "I've just called; how are you already this wound up?"

"It's not you," I reassured her, "Though it might be depending on what you have to tell me this early. I've barely had time for my coffee and my sister spent the night, you know how she terrorizes me in the mornings."

"Well then I should probably give you some good news then, huh?"

I raised an eyebrow, "Would this be your definition of good news or mine?"

"Yours," she sighed heavily, I could hear the clicking of her nails on a keyboard in the background. "Unfortunately for me this will only serve to assist you in your desire to procrastinate the project at hand away."

"Oh goody, do tell!" I grinned, "I love when things get in the way of work."

"You remember a few weeks ago when you asked me to send that waste of time story to those people in London?"

"First of all, Fanfiction is not a waste of time."

"Anything that stops you from working on commissions is a waste of time," she countered.

"Second, of course I remember," I sighed, leaning back against my kitchen counter, "It is the single most anxiety inducing thing I have done in my entire life."

"Apart from the never ending unease that you cause me," she sighed, "You have at least started working on the newspaper story, haven't you?"

"What are you asking about the email?"

I could feel her glare through the phone, "Well believe it or not, and I certainly did not, this particular story might not have been such a waste of time. They responded."

I paused, my eyes narrowing, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm looking at an email from one Mark Gatiss saying he must speak with the mastermind behind this brilliant story as soon as possible."

"This isn't funny Megan," I said pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Then it's a good thing I'm not joking."

"Seriously," I growled into the phone now. "After weeks of suffering in fear about that damn email you think it would be funny to just pretend to get a response saying exactly what I want them to say? I'm hanging up now."

"Lux!-" I hung up the phone before she could say anything more.

"You okay?" I turned to look at my sister and sighed.

"No, not really," I waved her off, "Go get ready for school, I'll drive you."

"Are you sure?" she asked, "You seem pretty upset…"

"I'm fine," I lied. "The newspaper suffered a breakdown in communication and expects the story a week before it's due. Megan is straightening it out."

She nodded slowly and turned away. "You look like Mom when you lie, did you know that?"

At noon I was standing in an unreasonably long line to order a cup of long overdue coffee. Because of Megan's lie and then Aleta's comment I'd spent what had been slated as work time driving around the city trying to calm down. How those two managed to stress me out this much I will never know.

This line wasn't helping any.

"Sorry about the wait," a girl, probably just out of high school, said as I reached the front. "What can I get for you?"

"My ususal," I yawned as I held out five dollars.

"Uh…" she looked from me to the money and back again.

"Oh," I laughed and gave her a tired smile, "You must be the new girl Ann was saying would start today. Sorry, I'm Lux, I'm in here all the time."

"Oh," she nodded with an uneasy smile. "So you're usual is…?"

I bit my lip as I thought, "Uh… large vanilla latte with a shot of peppermint and hazelnut and a double shot of espresso…. At kid temp because I don't care for burnt taste buds."

"Okay…" she looked lost as her eyes ran over the touch screen.

I leaned over the counter, "It's the button that says 'Lux'." I pointed to it on the screen and her eyes got big.

"So when you said you come in a lot-"

"I mean four or five times a day," I grinned holding up the cash again.

She took it and reached for a large cup, "Name- wait I know your-"

"I believe her name is Mayfor." I froze. The girl across from me looked confused and the voice revealing my secret chuckled. "But I could be thinking of someone else it is entirely possible."

"Someone else I'm afraid," I cleared my throat, refusing to look at the man. "I've never heard that name before."

"I have," the girl piped in and I raised an eyebrow, "Well it's the name of that Author, Mayfor Night."

"Oh really?" I frowned thoughtfully, "I've never heard of her."

"Well she's still kind of an underground thing," she shrugged, "But I know she's going to do big things someday. She's an amazing writer."

I smiled, "I'll have to look her up."

She smiled in return, "You're coffee will be done in a few minutes."

I nodded and stepped aside. My eyes falling to the floor as I made my way to my usual table where my laptop and notes where already laid out. I kept my back to the counter, my hands shaking as I struggled to keep my breathing under control. Someone knew my secret, but how? I never told anyone, Aleta and Megan would never; they knew how public scrutiny terrified me. How? Had I let something slip online? No, impossible. I was so careful!

"I didn't mean to traumatize you," the voice slid into the seat across from me and my eyes fell into my lap.

"Well that ship has sailed unfortunately," I swallowed, "You know who I am, no one is supposed to know-"

"Lux," I looked up and nearly fainted. "You're name is Lux, right?"

"Y-yes," I whispered; my eyes wide as saucers.

"Good, I was afraid I'd picked up the wrong cup," Steven Moffat slid a large coffee cup across the table and I shut my laptop.

"This is a trick," my voice shook, "Right?"

"I should hope not," he smiled around his own coffee, "Otherwise I flew out here for nothing."

"You…" I trailed off, my eyes narrowing just barely. "You want to use my story?"

"Yes-"

"Why?"

He let out a laugh, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement that was just a tad sadistic. "Because you're characters and ideas and plot is something I am very interested in. The things you wrote are not an uncommon plot line but how you wrote them… that is unlike anything I have ever seen."

I raised an eyebrow, "And you write Doctor who."

He chuckled, "I do so I should be used to unusual things from writers."

I nodded slowly, taking a sip of my coffee. "I should apologies to Megan."

"Who?"

"My agent, I may have… argued with her this morning." I explained, "I didn't think she was telling the truth."

"Understandable."

"Yeah."

I took another drink.

He did too.

"So…" my eyes narrowed, "What exactly do you want from me."

"We would like your permission to use your characters and plot for season three," he said leaning forward in his seat, his elbow resting on the edge of the table. "And we would like your assistance in developing and producing, probably even in casting. You know your character inside and out while we can only speculate at some of the things she does. You know what to look for in an actress that Mark and I could never see. If we are going to do this right, then we need you."

She laughed, "Steven Moffat asking for my help… You're sure this isn't a trick, a dream?"

"A trick; no," he mused taking another sip of his coffee, "A dream… well, who can ever really tell?"

I let out another laugh and nodded once. My eyes falling to my notes and then back again, "Okay, but I have some conditions."

"Of course."

"I get final say in the choices you make about my character and plot," I said leaning forward as well. "You want to change something I have to approve."

"Done."

"One more thing," I bit my lip, "Should things get out of hand I want to be able to pull the plug one the whole thing."

His eyes narrowed, "there could be potential financial problems with that."

"Tough shit," I said and his eyes widened. "You want to use my story? I want to make sure you treat it properly. If I think that anything is out of place I reserve the right to end it all right then and there. These are my conditions, Moffat. Take it or leave it."