FIC: In Another Life (2/21) - BtVS/Numb3rs
Dec. 1st, 2008 10:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lyl_devilTitle: In Another Life (2/21+Epilogue)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lyl_devil
Rating: PG-15
Fandom: BtVS, Numb3rs
Beta:strangevisitor7 & kallie_kat
Words: ~35,000 (as of Nov 22, 2008)
Disclaimer: I don’t own either show. I just like to play in their sandboxes.
Summary: Every action has a consequence and every deal comes with a price. Willow’s life is wiped clean, so she makes a new one for herself in LA.
Master Post
Note: I don’t claim to know anything about magic, medicine or the FBI – what I didn’t pick up from tv and books, I made up.
~!~
Part 2
One awkward coffee date led to another coffee date that led to another, which eventually culminated in an official dinner on one of the few nights the city of LA managed to survive on its own. By that point, the tentative awkwardness had mutated into easier conversation which Don found he enjoyed on multiple levels.
Willow seemed to be incapable of any sort of deception, and after days of dealing with all manner of people who lied, stole, cheated and killed for every reason under the sun, it was wonderfully refreshing. He wondered where it came from; if she'd lost the ability to lie when she lost her past, or if it was just something that was essentially Willow.
They weren't dating, that Don knew for certain. But it was more than simply friends getting together, because he sure didn't spend this much time with any of his other friends.
Willow was different in so many ways from every other woman he'd become close to - either romantic or platonic - yet in just as many ways, she was the same. She was smart - scary smart at times - and driven and strong. In fact, she might just be the strongest person Don had ever met. Not many could wake up with no past or sense of self, then carve a life out for themselves with no real family or friends. Yet she had done it, and just three years later she had friends, and a job she loved and was good at - several jobs actually. She was happy with herself and didn't let her lack of memories hold her back.
"It's really frustrating at times,” she told him during one of their frequent coffee dates. “I don't actually remember anything, but I know things. I mean, I get movie references, but I don't remember ever seeing the movie; I can tell you the plot of several books, but I don't remember reading them; I know how to drive, but I have no memory of learning to drive.”
“So is that how you know about computers or did you learn that after?” he asked her.
“No, that was one of those things I just knew. I was playing around on Milo's computer one day, and suddenly I was writing a pop-up blocker for his browser.”
“Milo?” asked Don, not remembering her mentioning a boyfriend.
“He's a friend,” she explained, taking a sip of her drink. “Well, he's actually one of the paramedics who found me outside of Sunnydale. He came to check up on me a few days later, and when he found out I had nowhere to go, he offered his spare room. I was confused and scared, terrified of leaving the hospital; he was the closest I had to a friend so I took him up on his offer.”
“Just like that he offered up a place to stay?”
“Yeah. Thinking back on it now it seems very strange, but at the time it seemed like a good idea,” said Willow, her mouth twisting in a rueful smile. “He still hasn't come up with a better answer other than I looked like a sad, lost puppy begging for attention.”
Don could hear the mix of affection and exasperation in her voice, smiling at her scrunched face.
“Did you learn anything else about your past? Family? Friends? School? Work?” asked Don.
“There were no missing persons’ reports, and no one has been looking for me in the last years, at least through official channels,” she told him.
“What have you been able to figure out so far?” he asked. Everything was computerized these days, and on some computer, some where, there was some tidbit of information about you .
“Well, according to Customs I went to England for a few months, about a year before I lost my memory. I dropped out of school half-way through the semester to go and came back a few months later. I went back to school, but dropped out again mid-semester.”
“Anything on the England front? Where you stayed; who you were with?”
“No, the building that was listed as my residence blew up a few months after I left,” she said with a frown, and Don wondered if Willow ever thought she'd either had something to do with the explosion or had at least known about it.
After four months of fairly regular meetings, Don knew quite a bit about Willow Rosenberg. He knew that there was still no missing persons report on her, and that while her parents weren't listed as dead, they were nowhere to be found. He knew she had just moved out on her own after living with Milo-the-paramedic for three years – she said it was to gain some independence, but privately Don thought that living with Milo and his girlfriend had become uncomfortable for her. He also knew that while she wanted to go back to school, her record of mid-semester drop outs and no declared major made the admissions board nervous and uncertain. Not to mention she had no way of paying for college and no memory of ever attending any school, at all.
Willow also knew quite a bit about him, as well. Don found that he could talk to Willow and tell her things he didn't feel comfortable telling anyone else. Not his Dad, not Charlie, not Robin or anyone on his team. In fact, she was the first person he told about his break-up with his federal prosecutor girlfriend, Robin Brooks, and then about the chemistry he felt with Liz Warner, a junior FBI agent.
Don was a private person, but felt comfortable enough around Willow to tell her things he wouldn't tell anyone else, not even his girlfriend. He knew that should bother him, or at least make him start questioning what exactly was developing between them, but didn't. Willow was one of the few people he met that he clicked with instantly – the last one had been Terry Lake, whom he'd met while in training at Quantico years ago. He'd stayed close with her for years after they'd broken up, even working side by side with her his first year back in LA.
He told her about his math genius brother, Charlie, who helped them out on cases periodically, and about the different personalities on his team. Don told her about how he'd been leery of taking on Colby Granger, a junior agent who had finished two tours in Afghanistan with the Army; about dealing with David Sinclair, the agent who'd been on his team the longest, but Don hadn't thought would last six months; about how much respect he had for Megan Reeves who routinely dove into the psyches of some of LA's worst and most deadly, yet still managed to remain almost untouched by all she saw.
And Willow told him about her friend Cherry, who's goal was to meet as many people in LA as possible, so she could say 'I met him/her once' when they became famous.
What always amazed Don was just how much Willow did with her time. She was always developing one pastime or another, in addition to the three jobs she held. Willow explained it to him once, but that still didn't lessen his sense that she was working too hard.
“Milo got me that first meeting with Vic, but because of this stupid amnesia, could only give me part-time hours,” she'd explained, and Don wondered how a paramedic knew the head of the IRU well enough to send him technical analysts for consideration. “Then came Arctic Morgan. I started doing a few side jobs, and now I do larger contracts.”
“That's the one that pays the bills, I'm guessing,” Don had added, having a pretty good idea the difference in pay scales between a part-time tech working for the federal government and a contract worker at a company with multiple contracts with the Department of Defense. “So why do you still work for the FBI?”
“I like to help people.” Don couldn’t argue with that.
The last job was the real odd one.
“A coffee shop?” asked Don, more surprised than he'd been in awhile.
Willow snorted in a very un-Willow-like way and took a sip of her drink to hide her smile, but Don could tell she was highly amused.
“It's a way to interact and meet people, instead of being holed up in front of a computer all the time,” she said after a minute, refusing to meet his eyes. Don waited her out, knowing from past experience that she would tell him in her own time. Usually. “Dr Chorlate suggested it.”
Ah, the psychologist she still saw several times a month. That made more sense. Though he'd have to drop by the coffee shop a time or two, because the characters she met were always so fascinating.
It also provided him with an endless supply of stories to be entertained by.
End Part 2
Part 3
Author:
lyl_devilRating: PG-15
Fandom: BtVS, Numb3rs
Beta:
strangevisitor7 & kallie_katWords: ~35,000 (as of Nov 22, 2008)
Disclaimer: I don’t own either show. I just like to play in their sandboxes.
Summary: Every action has a consequence and every deal comes with a price. Willow’s life is wiped clean, so she makes a new one for herself in LA.
Master Post
Note: I don’t claim to know anything about magic, medicine or the FBI – what I didn’t pick up from tv and books, I made up.
~!~
Part 2
One awkward coffee date led to another coffee date that led to another, which eventually culminated in an official dinner on one of the few nights the city of LA managed to survive on its own. By that point, the tentative awkwardness had mutated into easier conversation which Don found he enjoyed on multiple levels.
Willow seemed to be incapable of any sort of deception, and after days of dealing with all manner of people who lied, stole, cheated and killed for every reason under the sun, it was wonderfully refreshing. He wondered where it came from; if she'd lost the ability to lie when she lost her past, or if it was just something that was essentially Willow.
They weren't dating, that Don knew for certain. But it was more than simply friends getting together, because he sure didn't spend this much time with any of his other friends.
Willow was different in so many ways from every other woman he'd become close to - either romantic or platonic - yet in just as many ways, she was the same. She was smart - scary smart at times - and driven and strong. In fact, she might just be the strongest person Don had ever met. Not many could wake up with no past or sense of self, then carve a life out for themselves with no real family or friends. Yet she had done it, and just three years later she had friends, and a job she loved and was good at - several jobs actually. She was happy with herself and didn't let her lack of memories hold her back.
"It's really frustrating at times,” she told him during one of their frequent coffee dates. “I don't actually remember anything, but I know things. I mean, I get movie references, but I don't remember ever seeing the movie; I can tell you the plot of several books, but I don't remember reading them; I know how to drive, but I have no memory of learning to drive.”
“So is that how you know about computers or did you learn that after?” he asked her.
“No, that was one of those things I just knew. I was playing around on Milo's computer one day, and suddenly I was writing a pop-up blocker for his browser.”
“Milo?” asked Don, not remembering her mentioning a boyfriend.
“He's a friend,” she explained, taking a sip of her drink. “Well, he's actually one of the paramedics who found me outside of Sunnydale. He came to check up on me a few days later, and when he found out I had nowhere to go, he offered his spare room. I was confused and scared, terrified of leaving the hospital; he was the closest I had to a friend so I took him up on his offer.”
“Just like that he offered up a place to stay?”
“Yeah. Thinking back on it now it seems very strange, but at the time it seemed like a good idea,” said Willow, her mouth twisting in a rueful smile. “He still hasn't come up with a better answer other than I looked like a sad, lost puppy begging for attention.”
Don could hear the mix of affection and exasperation in her voice, smiling at her scrunched face.
“Did you learn anything else about your past? Family? Friends? School? Work?” asked Don.
“There were no missing persons’ reports, and no one has been looking for me in the last years, at least through official channels,” she told him.
“What have you been able to figure out so far?” he asked. Everything was computerized these days, and on some computer, some where, there was some tidbit of information about you .
“Well, according to Customs I went to England for a few months, about a year before I lost my memory. I dropped out of school half-way through the semester to go and came back a few months later. I went back to school, but dropped out again mid-semester.”
“Anything on the England front? Where you stayed; who you were with?”
“No, the building that was listed as my residence blew up a few months after I left,” she said with a frown, and Don wondered if Willow ever thought she'd either had something to do with the explosion or had at least known about it.
After four months of fairly regular meetings, Don knew quite a bit about Willow Rosenberg. He knew that there was still no missing persons report on her, and that while her parents weren't listed as dead, they were nowhere to be found. He knew she had just moved out on her own after living with Milo-the-paramedic for three years – she said it was to gain some independence, but privately Don thought that living with Milo and his girlfriend had become uncomfortable for her. He also knew that while she wanted to go back to school, her record of mid-semester drop outs and no declared major made the admissions board nervous and uncertain. Not to mention she had no way of paying for college and no memory of ever attending any school, at all.
Willow also knew quite a bit about him, as well. Don found that he could talk to Willow and tell her things he didn't feel comfortable telling anyone else. Not his Dad, not Charlie, not Robin or anyone on his team. In fact, she was the first person he told about his break-up with his federal prosecutor girlfriend, Robin Brooks, and then about the chemistry he felt with Liz Warner, a junior FBI agent.
Don was a private person, but felt comfortable enough around Willow to tell her things he wouldn't tell anyone else, not even his girlfriend. He knew that should bother him, or at least make him start questioning what exactly was developing between them, but didn't. Willow was one of the few people he met that he clicked with instantly – the last one had been Terry Lake, whom he'd met while in training at Quantico years ago. He'd stayed close with her for years after they'd broken up, even working side by side with her his first year back in LA.
He told her about his math genius brother, Charlie, who helped them out on cases periodically, and about the different personalities on his team. Don told her about how he'd been leery of taking on Colby Granger, a junior agent who had finished two tours in Afghanistan with the Army; about dealing with David Sinclair, the agent who'd been on his team the longest, but Don hadn't thought would last six months; about how much respect he had for Megan Reeves who routinely dove into the psyches of some of LA's worst and most deadly, yet still managed to remain almost untouched by all she saw.
And Willow told him about her friend Cherry, who's goal was to meet as many people in LA as possible, so she could say 'I met him/her once' when they became famous.
What always amazed Don was just how much Willow did with her time. She was always developing one pastime or another, in addition to the three jobs she held. Willow explained it to him once, but that still didn't lessen his sense that she was working too hard.
“Milo got me that first meeting with Vic, but because of this stupid amnesia, could only give me part-time hours,” she'd explained, and Don wondered how a paramedic knew the head of the IRU well enough to send him technical analysts for consideration. “Then came Arctic Morgan. I started doing a few side jobs, and now I do larger contracts.”
“That's the one that pays the bills, I'm guessing,” Don had added, having a pretty good idea the difference in pay scales between a part-time tech working for the federal government and a contract worker at a company with multiple contracts with the Department of Defense. “So why do you still work for the FBI?”
“I like to help people.” Don couldn’t argue with that.
The last job was the real odd one.
“A coffee shop?” asked Don, more surprised than he'd been in awhile.
Willow snorted in a very un-Willow-like way and took a sip of her drink to hide her smile, but Don could tell she was highly amused.
“It's a way to interact and meet people, instead of being holed up in front of a computer all the time,” she said after a minute, refusing to meet his eyes. Don waited her out, knowing from past experience that she would tell him in her own time. Usually. “Dr Chorlate suggested it.”
Ah, the psychologist she still saw several times a month. That made more sense. Though he'd have to drop by the coffee shop a time or two, because the characters she met were always so fascinating.
It also provided him with an endless supply of stories to be entertained by.
End Part 2
Part 3
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-02 12:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-03 04:05 am (UTC)PS - When are you posting your Numb3rs xover? I'm running out of reading material, and may actually be forced to do work soon.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-03 04:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-04 11:03 pm (UTC)