Okay, author's preamble: this is my first fic-ish thing in quite some time, 
and I'm hoping to sorta make a series of lil proposal vignettes, just to see 
how many different people I can pair up. The title is probably not even 
worth the joke. I was going to start with Jonny and Jessie, but well, I 
didn't :) I'm not sure if I like how this turned out, but I like the idea. 
Maybe I'll redo it later. Thanks to Ina for making me stop and think about 
Benton as a young man. This one's for you babe.

A Decent Proposal
By LesliWeird

Vignette #1 Benton

Florida, July 10th, 1954

	“I’m going to change the world, Rachel. You’ll see.”
	Benton Quest waved his hand across the moonlit night as the waves caressed 
the shore. Wet sand clung to their bare feet. Rachel Wildey smiled quietly 
and watched the emotions play out on her lover’s face like he was a 
television. It was times like these that she adored him most; when he was so 
alive it almost seemed like she was a silent ghost or shadow following him.
	Benton smiled and practically skipped next to her, undignified as always, 
with his shaggy red hair muted by the evening’s touch, and the gangly 
beginnings of a beard on his chin. He wasn’t like the other boys at the 
university: the rich boys in their ascots, with their hair slicked back, who 
wore their thin lips twisted into a perpetual sneer. Benton was alive, and 
real; dirty sometimes, and crazy too. He was everything she wished she had 
the courage to be.
	Her hand went almost instinctively to the tight bun at the base of her 
neck. It huddled protectively around itself, walling out the world with its 
impenetrable, perfect professionalism. She wished she could let it down, for 
even a second, but she was a woman clawing her way ahead, and she could 
afford nothing less than an eternal vigilance. So she wore her hair like a 
shackle and watched Benton dance across the beach.
	The moon and the stars let their light dangle down to touch him as he threw 
his head back and drank in the smell of the ocean. “This is it!” he said, 
half laughing, half singing, like a barefoot lunatic, “This is the time to 
be alive! We’re on top of the world and we have the chance to improve 
everything! To split the atom and touch the stars.” His hand floated up to 
stroke the sky lovingly. Rachel grinned.
	“Are you going into outer space, Benton Quest?” she teased.
	“Even if I have to go to Russia...” he answered, never unlocking his eyes 
from the stars. She hissed a breath across her teeth.
	“Don’t say things like that! They’ll lock you up.”
	His eyes were on her suddenly, and she was painfully aware of how blue they 
were, even in the silver light. His hands were on her shoulders and his 
voice was soft, like the sound of the waves.
	“You wouldn’t tell them, would you? You’re the only other person here.”
	She could feel her face flush and she turned it down and touched her bun 
nervously.
	“Rachel?”
	“Uh huh?”
	“It’s the beach, Rachel. You’re not in the lab any more. Take it down.”
	Her hand fidgeted and her cheeks burned. It was easy for him to say, of 
course! Everything was easy for Benton Quest, boy genius. He didn’t have to 
fight tooth and nail for every ounce of respect, just for his presence to be 
tolerated. She wanted his life so badly her stomach twisted like her bun.
	He brushed his lips on her hairline, lightly, imploringly. In that instant 
everything fell away from her and the waves carried it out to sea. Her hand 
tore at the pins and bands. He lifted her chin softly and kissed her. His 
other hand wound behind her neck and deftly removed her restraints. She 
remembered for the rest of her life the instant when she felt her hair 
tumble down her back and his hand followed it in a single gentle stroke.
	“You’re a brilliant woman, Rachel,” he said at length, running his fingers 
through her liberated tresses, “and you’re very beautiful.”
	Rachel smiled graciously, glowing in the moonlight, and kissed his hand. He 
was the only one who ever said that to her, and no matter how many times she 
heard it, it never thrilled her less. Especially coming from Benton, who 
seemed to hold all the secrets of the universe and laugh at everything.
	“I’m going to change the world, Rachel.”
	“I know.”
	“Help me. Change it with me. Marry me.”
	Rachel’s hand went behind her, to the nape of her neck. They found only her 
loose hair, dancing crazily on the stroking sea breeze. She was unraveled, 
and she could almost feel her heart shaking. In later days she could never 
adequately describe that moment. All she could say was that she felt wild 
and awake, and that she never wanted it to end. She wanted to dance and 
brush her hands against the heavens. She wanted the secrets he could teach 
her.
        But most importantly, she loved him.
	And that was why she said yes.

Fin
Like I said, trying to do a lil vignette series :) again, sorry about the 
bad title.


A Decent Proposal
LesliWeird

Vignette #2: Race

	"You've certainly got cajones, Roger."
	It was August in Bogota, the mountains on the horizon were covered with the 
lush green of a flourishing jungle, and "Race" Bannon was looking down the 
angry twin barrels of his girlfriend's shotgun. If it weren't for the fact 
that he was almost certain she really would blow his head off, he would have 
told her how sexy that was.
	"Querida..." he managed with a smile, his hands still raised arrestee style 
over his head.
	"Don't you 'querida' me, Roger!" The shotgun barrels quivered. "Get out. I 
don't ever want to see you again."
	Race looked down at the woman holding him at gunpoint. She really was 
beautiful. And she had every right to be threatening his life.
	Whatever lies he had told her about winning his nickname on an obstacle 
course, the truth of the matter was that it had been a contest to see which 
of the new trainees could get one of the local girls into bed the fastest. 
Race had won with a charming college student at the language school by the 
name of Estella Guadalupe Valasquez Camancho. He was fairly sure she loved 
him, and for his part he was incredibly fond of her. That had been two 
months ago, and now it was time for the boys to leave, but Race faced a 
special dilemma. It wasn't just Estella he would be leaving; it was Estella 
and his unborn child. Both of them knew it.
	He had a choice to make, and he intended to do the honorable thing.
	"I'm not leaving," he stated bluntly as he gingerly nudged the gun away 
from his face, and moved in closer to her. His hand ducked into his pocket. 
"I'm not leaving this house and I'm not leaving Bogota. I'm going to marry 
you, and I'm going to help you raise that kid."
	He held the ring out to her, his hands less steady than his voice. Each 
tremble sent the light from the window dancing in broken flecks across 
Estella's astounded face, until she hung her head and her shoulders began to 
shake.
	Race stepped forward to hold her and she clubbed him with the butt end of 
her shotgun.
	"You ARE going to leave, 'Race'." Estella glared at him angrily through her 
tears. She pronounced the title he had won seducing her like she was 
spitting out bile, and he knew she'd found out the truth about it. "You lied 
to me and you...you did THIS to me," she indicated angrily to her belly, 
"and I hate you! It's too late to try and set things right! You couldn't 
desert even if you wanted to. You're going to leave me. I'm going to forget 
about you and I'm going to get rid of the baby."
	Her words hit harder than her blows and Race stood gaping in a profound mix 
of shock and pain.
	"Estella, you can't do that."
	"What do you care?" her words came out as a hoarse sob. "You won't be here 
to stop me."
	"I do care! Estella, I-"
	He meant to say "I love you," but he looked into her wet, glaring eyes, and 
for an instant he could see himself through them. He looked wretched. He had 
lied to her and used her, and now that he finally understood what it was she 
meant to him, it was too late. She had loved him until that day, and now 
that he loved her all traces of caring had left those eyes.
	It was a sad, sick irony.
	He shoved the ring into her hand. "Keep it," he whispered, his voice 
half-dead. "It's real diamond, and I know how expensive abortions can get 
around here. I don't want to set you back."
	He left the next morning, and watched the city till it faded out of sight. 
The ghost of that child haunted him for years, and when he came to live with 
the Quests, he did his best to teach and protect Jonathan as if he had been 
that long lost son.
	"I've always wanted a boy of my own," he had confessed to Estella one warm 
night, never guessing the implications. "I'd call him Jesse, I think. It's a 
good solid boy's name."
	Estella watched the plane fade into the pink morning sky as she held the 
ring and remembered. She really had loved him, and she wondered now if she 
had made the right choice. She didn't think she could have lived with him, 
knowing what she did, but maybe in the end it had been worth it. She stroked 
her belly and mumbled softly:
	"Jesse…"

Fin