FIC: In Another Life (3/22) - BtVS/Numb3rs
Dec. 4th, 2008 09:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lyl_devilTitle: In Another Life (3/22+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: ~36,000 (as of Dec 4, 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 3
She'd helped him deal with Robin dumping him, and his decision to start something with Liz. In return, he'd found himself as the shoulder to cry on when she'd finally found her parents. Or, rather, when they found her.
"What happened?" he asked as he struggled into his jacket while trying to hold onto his cell phone.
"I don't know, man, but get over here," hissed Milo, his voice hushed and panicked. "I don't do crying women, Eppes."
Any other time, Don would have been ribbing him about hiding from one small woman, but he was too concerned. Willow wasn't the type for hysterical sobbing fits, adding to Don's worry.
"I'm on my way," he said, giving a quick nod to Liz as he left her apartment. He knew he'd be paying for it later, but right now Willow was more important.
Don's hand stalled on the door of his car when he heard a crash over the line, followed by sobbing curses.
"Milo?" Don asked, frowning at the driver side window.
"You got a siren, Eppes. Use it," was all the man would say before hanging up.
Don stared at the cell phone in his hand for a moment before cursing and hustling into the Suburban.
The twenty minute drive felt excruciatingly long as his mind ran over the possibilities. He'd last seen Willow yesterday, and she'd been happy and smiling and excited over finally having some connection to her past. Her parents had gotten in contact with her and were flying to LA so they could meet. All he knew about them was that they were psychologists. He had a few issues to hash out with them himself - like how could they not know their daughter was missing for almost four years?
Whatever expectations he'd had in regard to them, Willow had apparently had hers crushed if the call from Milo was any indication.
Pulling into the apartment parking lot, Don silently groaned at the sight of a patrol unit pulling in behind him. Someone had apparently called the cops, and knowing his luck, they were all going to the same place.
"You guys going up to 304?" he asked, flashing his badge as he drew near the officers exiting the patrol car.
"Domestic dispute," one said warily. "Neighbours called it in."
"This part of an investigation or something?" the other asked.
"Personal business," he said, knowing that wouldn't help. Don quickly considered booting them away, but knew if he did his name would be all over the beat sheet in a way he wouldn't like. It was necessary to maintain a good relationship with the LAPD, and using his badge and authority to wave off a domestic dispute call was a good way to cause bad blood.
A quick nod conveyed the message that he wasn't going to interfere, and together they headed up to the apartment.
"Milo, open up," Don said, knocking on the door.
"What the hell took you so long, Eppes?" snapped Milo as he yanked open the door, only to come up short at seeing the uniformed cops behind him. "Danning? Hewitt? What the hell are you doing here?"
"Neighbours called the cops, Milo," said Don pushing his way into the apartment, leaving Milo to handle the uniforms.
Another crash followed by a stream of swearing led him to the kitchen where he pulled up short. Willow was standing near the sink surrounded by what looked like the remnants of Milo's kitchenware, face red and wet, eyes puffy and wide, her shoulders hitching with every watery, breathy sob that was torn from her throat.
Don called her name gently, trying not to startle her too much. She turned to face him, her eyes clearing a little, and Don's heart broke a little when she called out "Don?" in a lost, confused voice.
"Don't move," he warned when he saw her starting to take a step. There were broken dishes all around her bare feet.
"Don - they just - and I don't know why...they wouldn't say...why wouldn't they - I don't understand..." Don listened to her half-formed sentences as he slowly made his way to her trembling form, sweeping the broken shards out of his way with his foot. "They wouldn't tell me. Why wouldn't they tell me?" she demanded as he pulled her to him, taking her weight as she slumped into him.
"I don't understand," she mumbled into his chest as she started to cry, her hands clutching at him.
Don made some - hopefully - comforting noises, feeling her go limp in his arms as she continued to sob against his chest.
"C'mon, let's get you away from this mess," he said, lifting her into his arms. Milo pointed him in the direction of her old room, and Don assumed he'd take care of the cops.
When she wouldn't let go of him, Don settled down on the bed next to her, holding her close until she was calm enough to talk about what had preceded the nuclear meltdown. Once she started to hesitantly describe the meeting with her parents, it took every ounce of training in him to remain calm. As she sobbed out the last details of the meeting, Don pulled her closer, his arms tightening around her. It took a while, but Willow finally faded into slumber, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted deep enough that Don could extricate himself without waking her.
Closing the door, Don found Milo sitting alone in the living room.
"Got rid of them?" he asked, moving wearily towards the closest chair.
"Yeah. They'll make sure no names get put into the report."
"Good, good," said Don as he sat down. Leaning forward, he put his face in his hands and wondered idly how he'd progressed to boyfriend duties with someone he wasn't even dating.
"What did her parents do?" asked Milo after a moment of silence. They'd both known she had gone alone to meet with her parents tonight. Don remembered how amusing he'd found her nervousness about the meeting, teasing her about it. Now, he wished her parents had never found her.
"They've been in Africa or Asia or India - somewhere out of the way - and just found out about Sunnydale when they popped their heads out of the sand," said Don, running his hands through his hair. "That was eighteen months ago. When they couldn't get hold of Willow, they searched for the 'hooligans she calls friends', who told them she was dead. They went looking for the 'body', and some investigating later, they found her alive and living in LA."
They both knew the story from there - how they'd contacted Willow through Arctic Morgan, one of her employers, and been told of her amnesia. It was the first contact Willow had had with anyone from her past, so her anxiety was completely understandable.
“So for two and a half years they don't notice their only daughter's missing?” asked Milo, sounding as incredulous as Don had been.
“From what Willow could tell, the Rosenberg's haven't used their Sunnydale home as more than a quick stopover point between research trips since Willow graduated high school.”
“Some family,” said Milo after a pause, and Don really didn't have anything to add that wouldn't get him kicked out of a church.
"And? So? What else did they do to send her ballistic like that?"
"They find her a fascinating case study," said Don. "So fascinating, in fact, that they want to see how she develops as an individual without any input from her old life."
"They're not going to tell her anything, are they?" said Milo after a moment of silence, more a statement than a question.
"Nope," answered Don. Right then and there Don hated them as much as Willow did. To wilfully withhold personal information from an amnesia victim - your own daughter - had to be illegal or something.
Looking up, Don met Milo's eyes, and for the first time since Willow had introduced them, a shared understanding passed between them and they were in complete agreement.
Willow's parents were now considered the enemy, and Willow would never be meeting them alone again, if either of them could help it.
End Part 3
Part 4
Author:
lyl_devilRating: PG-15
Fandom: BtVS, Numb3rs
Beta:
strangevisitor7 & kallie_katWords: ~36,000 (as of Dec 4, 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 3
She'd helped him deal with Robin dumping him, and his decision to start something with Liz. In return, he'd found himself as the shoulder to cry on when she'd finally found her parents. Or, rather, when they found her.
"What happened?" he asked as he struggled into his jacket while trying to hold onto his cell phone.
"I don't know, man, but get over here," hissed Milo, his voice hushed and panicked. "I don't do crying women, Eppes."
Any other time, Don would have been ribbing him about hiding from one small woman, but he was too concerned. Willow wasn't the type for hysterical sobbing fits, adding to Don's worry.
"I'm on my way," he said, giving a quick nod to Liz as he left her apartment. He knew he'd be paying for it later, but right now Willow was more important.
Don's hand stalled on the door of his car when he heard a crash over the line, followed by sobbing curses.
"Milo?" Don asked, frowning at the driver side window.
"You got a siren, Eppes. Use it," was all the man would say before hanging up.
Don stared at the cell phone in his hand for a moment before cursing and hustling into the Suburban.
The twenty minute drive felt excruciatingly long as his mind ran over the possibilities. He'd last seen Willow yesterday, and she'd been happy and smiling and excited over finally having some connection to her past. Her parents had gotten in contact with her and were flying to LA so they could meet. All he knew about them was that they were psychologists. He had a few issues to hash out with them himself - like how could they not know their daughter was missing for almost four years?
Whatever expectations he'd had in regard to them, Willow had apparently had hers crushed if the call from Milo was any indication.
Pulling into the apartment parking lot, Don silently groaned at the sight of a patrol unit pulling in behind him. Someone had apparently called the cops, and knowing his luck, they were all going to the same place.
"You guys going up to 304?" he asked, flashing his badge as he drew near the officers exiting the patrol car.
"Domestic dispute," one said warily. "Neighbours called it in."
"This part of an investigation or something?" the other asked.
"Personal business," he said, knowing that wouldn't help. Don quickly considered booting them away, but knew if he did his name would be all over the beat sheet in a way he wouldn't like. It was necessary to maintain a good relationship with the LAPD, and using his badge and authority to wave off a domestic dispute call was a good way to cause bad blood.
A quick nod conveyed the message that he wasn't going to interfere, and together they headed up to the apartment.
"Milo, open up," Don said, knocking on the door.
"What the hell took you so long, Eppes?" snapped Milo as he yanked open the door, only to come up short at seeing the uniformed cops behind him. "Danning? Hewitt? What the hell are you doing here?"
"Neighbours called the cops, Milo," said Don pushing his way into the apartment, leaving Milo to handle the uniforms.
Another crash followed by a stream of swearing led him to the kitchen where he pulled up short. Willow was standing near the sink surrounded by what looked like the remnants of Milo's kitchenware, face red and wet, eyes puffy and wide, her shoulders hitching with every watery, breathy sob that was torn from her throat.
Don called her name gently, trying not to startle her too much. She turned to face him, her eyes clearing a little, and Don's heart broke a little when she called out "Don?" in a lost, confused voice.
"Don't move," he warned when he saw her starting to take a step. There were broken dishes all around her bare feet.
"Don - they just - and I don't know why...they wouldn't say...why wouldn't they - I don't understand..." Don listened to her half-formed sentences as he slowly made his way to her trembling form, sweeping the broken shards out of his way with his foot. "They wouldn't tell me. Why wouldn't they tell me?" she demanded as he pulled her to him, taking her weight as she slumped into him.
"I don't understand," she mumbled into his chest as she started to cry, her hands clutching at him.
Don made some - hopefully - comforting noises, feeling her go limp in his arms as she continued to sob against his chest.
"C'mon, let's get you away from this mess," he said, lifting her into his arms. Milo pointed him in the direction of her old room, and Don assumed he'd take care of the cops.
When she wouldn't let go of him, Don settled down on the bed next to her, holding her close until she was calm enough to talk about what had preceded the nuclear meltdown. Once she started to hesitantly describe the meeting with her parents, it took every ounce of training in him to remain calm. As she sobbed out the last details of the meeting, Don pulled her closer, his arms tightening around her. It took a while, but Willow finally faded into slumber, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted deep enough that Don could extricate himself without waking her.
Closing the door, Don found Milo sitting alone in the living room.
"Got rid of them?" he asked, moving wearily towards the closest chair.
"Yeah. They'll make sure no names get put into the report."
"Good, good," said Don as he sat down. Leaning forward, he put his face in his hands and wondered idly how he'd progressed to boyfriend duties with someone he wasn't even dating.
"What did her parents do?" asked Milo after a moment of silence. They'd both known she had gone alone to meet with her parents tonight. Don remembered how amusing he'd found her nervousness about the meeting, teasing her about it. Now, he wished her parents had never found her.
"They've been in Africa or Asia or India - somewhere out of the way - and just found out about Sunnydale when they popped their heads out of the sand," said Don, running his hands through his hair. "That was eighteen months ago. When they couldn't get hold of Willow, they searched for the 'hooligans she calls friends', who told them she was dead. They went looking for the 'body', and some investigating later, they found her alive and living in LA."
They both knew the story from there - how they'd contacted Willow through Arctic Morgan, one of her employers, and been told of her amnesia. It was the first contact Willow had had with anyone from her past, so her anxiety was completely understandable.
“So for two and a half years they don't notice their only daughter's missing?” asked Milo, sounding as incredulous as Don had been.
“From what Willow could tell, the Rosenberg's haven't used their Sunnydale home as more than a quick stopover point between research trips since Willow graduated high school.”
“Some family,” said Milo after a pause, and Don really didn't have anything to add that wouldn't get him kicked out of a church.
"And? So? What else did they do to send her ballistic like that?"
"They find her a fascinating case study," said Don. "So fascinating, in fact, that they want to see how she develops as an individual without any input from her old life."
"They're not going to tell her anything, are they?" said Milo after a moment of silence, more a statement than a question.
"Nope," answered Don. Right then and there Don hated them as much as Willow did. To wilfully withhold personal information from an amnesia victim - your own daughter - had to be illegal or something.
Looking up, Don met Milo's eyes, and for the first time since Willow had introduced them, a shared understanding passed between them and they were in complete agreement.
Willow's parents were now considered the enemy, and Willow would never be meeting them alone again, if either of them could help it.
End Part 3
Part 4
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-04 04:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-04 10:57 pm (UTC)I really just needed another barricade between Willow and the Scoobies, but yeah. New levels of horrifying.
Don's there for her, so it should all be good. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-04 10:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-04 11:01 pm (UTC)It was really just to keep Willow isolated from Buffy and the others while I worked on the Don/Willow relationship...honestly! :)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-05 05:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-05 01:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-09 01:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-06 12:46 am (UTC)Actually, in this context it would be.
Any psychological experiments, case studies... with humans must be approved by an ethics committee and this would never be approved in the US in this day and age. So for them to do that would be illegal.
Anyway, interesting premise and I look forward to seeing where you go with it!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-09 01:08 am (UTC)Thanks. I know about the ethics involved in clinical trials and medical experimentation, but psychological testing is outside my knowledge base. :)