FIC: Present Possessive, Future Tense: 1
Title: Present Possessive, Future Tense
Fandom: The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo/Tintin
Genre: Drama, Mystery
Pairing: N/A
Rating: R
Summary: Lisbeth needs the help of a retired Belgian reporter to solve a crime from more than sixty years ago. And yes, I realize that it's a very odd crossover.
Warnings: Violence, murder, thousands of thundering typhoons, Lisbeth Salander
1
Lisbeth Salander was not wearing a bra. She sat at her laptop, smoking a cigarette with one hand and typing with the other in a pair of boxer shorts and a faded sweatshirt. The hood was up. She had not had a chance to shower.
Her apartment overlooked the snowy street and she stared out of the window blankly as she exhaled out of the side of her mouth. It was cold in the apartment, but she couldn’t bring herself to stand up and change the thermostat. Instead she rubbed at the goose bumps on her pale, thin legs and listened to the drip of the faucet in the other room.
Her cell phone vibrated on the table next to her. She paused in her one-handed typing and picked it up, lancing at the screen impassively.
She answered. “What is it, Mikael?”
“Can’t I call to say hello?”
Lisbeth took a drag on her cigarette.
“Uh.” The man on the other line cleared his throat. “Can we meet?”
“Why?”
“Because I need some research done.” Mikael paused. “And I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Three months, twenty days.” Lisbeth burned her fingertips on the end of the cigarette and let it fall onto an ashtray. “Where do you want to meet?”
“There’s a restaurant, Gaffel Och Sked. It’s on-“
“I know where it is. I’ll see you at one thirty.” Lisbeth pressed the end button and threw the phone onto the couch. It disappeared between the cushions.
The Gaffel Och Sked was a small restaurant. More of a café, really. The tables were mostly built to seat two people at most and they were crowded together under warm orange lamps. Mikael was sitting at a table in the corner, nursing a drink that had come in a very dark bottle, when Lisbeth came in. He stood as she pulled out her chair and sat down across from him, avoiding eye contact as usual.
“Hello.” He smiled at her. She frowned.
“Hi. What’s up?”
Straight to business, then. Mikael slid a folder to her across the table. “I’m doing an article on the Ivanski murders and the theft of the Jonasson jewels.”
Lisbeth raised a bleached eyebrow and looked down at the folder, opening it. “I don’t know what those things are.”
“No. Right. Of course.” Mikael sighed. “Back in the forties there were these jewels owned by the Jonasson family. Went back hundreds of years. The family had fragmented and the jewels were in all different places- one in America, one in Russia, and two here in Sweden. The one in America and one of the jewels in Sweden were both in private collections, but the second Swedish jewel and the Russian jewel were in museums.”
“What kind of jewels were they?” Lisbeth didn’t look up from the page.
“Diamonds. What else?” Mikael took a gulp of his drink. “Anyway, in 1944 the houses in America and Sweden were broken into and the diamonds were stolen. No one was home at the time. In early 1945 the Russian jewel was stolen while stolen from its display case at the museum.” A young couple came in from the cold, chattering happily and bringing a gust of freezing air with them. Mikael wrapped his coat tighter around his shoulders. “Then in June 1945 the last jewel was stolen from the museum in Sweden. The curators, Sasha Ivanki and his daughter Anna, were staying late at the museum that night and were murdered by the thieves.”
Lisbeth glowered at the tabletop. She had some choice thoughts on the topic of murder.
“Anyway, the diamonds were all missing until earlier this year, when the one stolen during the Ivanski murders was recovered in a basement in Stockholm.” Mikael watched Lisbeth’s face for any sign of a reaction. “It was handed over to Anna’s daughter, one Beatrice Hoder.”
“Stop.” Lisbeth held up a hand, silencing her companion. “I heard about this. It was on the news last week.”
“You were listening to the news?” Mikael said incredulously.
Lisbeth rolled her eyes. “Miriam had it on.”
“So you heard about Hoder’s murder, then?”
The girl nodded. “They weren’t giving out many details, but I recognized the name when you mentioned it.” She closed the file. “So they killed her and took the jewel?”
“Yes. How did you-?”
“It was an obvious progression. Seriously, Mikael.” She slid the file back over to him. She already had every page stored in her photographic memory. “So you want me to get information for your article.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to.” Lisbeth scratched her neck where there had once been a tattoo of a wasp. “I’ll do it.” She stood up.
“Thank you.” Mikael called to her retreating form. “Lisbeth-?”
She turned around. “What?”
“It was good to see you.”
She smiled. It was a very small smile.
Fandom: The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo/Tintin
Genre: Drama, Mystery
Pairing: N/A
Rating: R
Summary: Lisbeth needs the help of a retired Belgian reporter to solve a crime from more than sixty years ago. And yes, I realize that it's a very odd crossover.
Warnings: Violence, murder, thousands of thundering typhoons, Lisbeth Salander
1
Lisbeth Salander was not wearing a bra. She sat at her laptop, smoking a cigarette with one hand and typing with the other in a pair of boxer shorts and a faded sweatshirt. The hood was up. She had not had a chance to shower.
Her apartment overlooked the snowy street and she stared out of the window blankly as she exhaled out of the side of her mouth. It was cold in the apartment, but she couldn’t bring herself to stand up and change the thermostat. Instead she rubbed at the goose bumps on her pale, thin legs and listened to the drip of the faucet in the other room.
Her cell phone vibrated on the table next to her. She paused in her one-handed typing and picked it up, lancing at the screen impassively.
She answered. “What is it, Mikael?”
“Can’t I call to say hello?”
Lisbeth took a drag on her cigarette.
“Uh.” The man on the other line cleared his throat. “Can we meet?”
“Why?”
“Because I need some research done.” Mikael paused. “And I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Three months, twenty days.” Lisbeth burned her fingertips on the end of the cigarette and let it fall onto an ashtray. “Where do you want to meet?”
“There’s a restaurant, Gaffel Och Sked. It’s on-“
“I know where it is. I’ll see you at one thirty.” Lisbeth pressed the end button and threw the phone onto the couch. It disappeared between the cushions.
The Gaffel Och Sked was a small restaurant. More of a café, really. The tables were mostly built to seat two people at most and they were crowded together under warm orange lamps. Mikael was sitting at a table in the corner, nursing a drink that had come in a very dark bottle, when Lisbeth came in. He stood as she pulled out her chair and sat down across from him, avoiding eye contact as usual.
“Hello.” He smiled at her. She frowned.
“Hi. What’s up?”
Straight to business, then. Mikael slid a folder to her across the table. “I’m doing an article on the Ivanski murders and the theft of the Jonasson jewels.”
Lisbeth raised a bleached eyebrow and looked down at the folder, opening it. “I don’t know what those things are.”
“No. Right. Of course.” Mikael sighed. “Back in the forties there were these jewels owned by the Jonasson family. Went back hundreds of years. The family had fragmented and the jewels were in all different places- one in America, one in Russia, and two here in Sweden. The one in America and one of the jewels in Sweden were both in private collections, but the second Swedish jewel and the Russian jewel were in museums.”
“What kind of jewels were they?” Lisbeth didn’t look up from the page.
“Diamonds. What else?” Mikael took a gulp of his drink. “Anyway, in 1944 the houses in America and Sweden were broken into and the diamonds were stolen. No one was home at the time. In early 1945 the Russian jewel was stolen while stolen from its display case at the museum.” A young couple came in from the cold, chattering happily and bringing a gust of freezing air with them. Mikael wrapped his coat tighter around his shoulders. “Then in June 1945 the last jewel was stolen from the museum in Sweden. The curators, Sasha Ivanki and his daughter Anna, were staying late at the museum that night and were murdered by the thieves.”
Lisbeth glowered at the tabletop. She had some choice thoughts on the topic of murder.
“Anyway, the diamonds were all missing until earlier this year, when the one stolen during the Ivanski murders was recovered in a basement in Stockholm.” Mikael watched Lisbeth’s face for any sign of a reaction. “It was handed over to Anna’s daughter, one Beatrice Hoder.”
“Stop.” Lisbeth held up a hand, silencing her companion. “I heard about this. It was on the news last week.”
“You were listening to the news?” Mikael said incredulously.
Lisbeth rolled her eyes. “Miriam had it on.”
“So you heard about Hoder’s murder, then?”
The girl nodded. “They weren’t giving out many details, but I recognized the name when you mentioned it.” She closed the file. “So they killed her and took the jewel?”
“Yes. How did you-?”
“It was an obvious progression. Seriously, Mikael.” She slid the file back over to him. She already had every page stored in her photographic memory. “So you want me to get information for your article.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to.” Lisbeth scratched her neck where there had once been a tattoo of a wasp. “I’ll do it.” She stood up.
“Thank you.” Mikael called to her retreating form. “Lisbeth-?”
She turned around. “What?”
“It was good to see you.”
She smiled. It was a very small smile.