the middleman/sanctuary fic: there's a time to pray and there's a time to fight
Title: There's A Time To Pray And There's A Time To Fight
Summary: The Middleman/Sanctuary crossover - Wendy gets sucked into another AU (like in TMM 1x12), but this time it's like Pavor Nocturnus. Basically, I started shipping Stuck-In-An-AU!Wendy and Pavor!Will (evidence: one, two, three). This is what happened. I blame caffrey. And phrasmotic and subtle__sarcasm, too.
Words: 1778
Notes: It all belongs to Javi and Damian. Title comes from the song "Save Our City" by Ludo. Also, I wrote this really fast and it's a little cracky, so I apologize if it sucks.
They're stuck in a foxhole downtown. He's got dozens around the city for when he and the boys are doing patrols and get caught too far out from the base. It's not really made for two people, but getting to know each other a little too well is better than the alternative, so they make it work.
"When I get home," Wendy whispers, her breath hot on his neck, "I'm taking the longest, hottest shower you can possibly imagine."
She starts sentences, conversations like that a lot. When I get home. It's how Will knows she's just as crazy as he is.
* * * * * * *
The first time he sees her, she is standing in the middle of the street with a weird silver gun that shoots green laserblasts. His finger stays on the trigger, but he pauses to watch her pop the heads off six zombies before he steps in to help. She's screaming as she shoots; Will can't hear it all but he makes out "Not again! Not fucking again!" before her voice is swallowed by the wind and the rain. She's not dressed for the weather (or the place or the time) but little surprises Will anymore.
When they've taken care of the pack that followed her down the street, he knocks her over the head with the butt of his gun and carries her back to the base for decontamination.
She slugs him in the jaw when she wakes. The bruise lasts a week. It would hurt when he smiles but he doesn't smile very often anymore.
* * * * * * *
She tells a story of a temp agency that fights crime and a supervillain who can open up holes to other dimensions. She's done this before, she claims, but last time there was more aerosolized soup and goateed versions of her friends.
The other guys figure she's a fighter - same as them - who's been holed up alone for so long that she's gone loopy. Will would buy it but that doesn't explain the gun or her clean clothes. The boys couldn't care less about the details that poke holes in their theory; she's not infected and she can shoot straight and that's all they need to know.
Will stays up nights wondering if she really is from another place, time, world like she says she is. Magnus was right: he always needs answers.
But after a while he accepts her story.
Why not?
Wherever she came from, she's here now and that's all that matters.
* * * * * * *
As the protege to the great, dead Magnus, the other guys defer to him on pretty much everything. He's in charge and since no one else wanted the thankless job, he shoulders it like everything else.
Until Wendy.
She argues with him and teases him and defies him like this is all some kind of joke. She laughs and smiles and once tried to get him to play tag as he and the boys moved a patrol downtown.
He loses his temper with her more often than anyone else and when he demands to know what the fuck is she doing and does she want to get them all killed and reminds her that just because she's not from this world--
And that's always about the time that she interrupts, grin sliding away. She gets in his face and growls so the boys can't hear: "Life sucks, Zimmerman, and there's nothing to be done about that. I respect your authority when we're knee-deep in shit - and you know that, otherwise you would have shot me and left me for dead by now - but you guys need to lighten up. A few jokes wouldn't kill you, y'know, not any faster than these dead-heads."
And then she steps away with a salute and a "Yes, sir, anything you say, sir" that makes the other guys smirk.
He's forgotten how to smirk. And how to laugh and tease and take a joke. Sometimes he thinks he keeps Wendy around because maybe she'll help him remember. And, y'know, she's a damn good shot.
* * * * * * *
"When I get home, I'm going to buy the comfiest pair of pajamas and only change out of them to put on my second comfiest pair."
"When I get home, I'm going to play Stump the Band with Noser until his fingers fall off."
"When I get home, I'm taking all of my zombie movies and throwing them in the dumpster."
"When I get home, the first thing I'm going to eat is an ice cream sundae with three cherries."
[When she starts talking about food, Will and the boys threaten to gag her unless she shuts up.]
* * * * * * *
The first time she's injured, it's stupid. She doesn't sprain an ankle running from the creatures, or get hit with friendly fire, or get her face sliced by a particularly vicious ghoul wielding a knife. She gets her hand slammed in a door when they're locking up for the night.
"Shit!" she cries, shaking the sleeve of her borrowed jacket over her good hand and biting down on the fabric. The last thing she needs to do is let the creatures know where they're sleeping tonight. As far as Will can tell she didn't break anything but he wraps the hand between two thin pieces of plywood for the night just in case. Most likely she'll wake up with a deep bruise and, while it will hurt like a bitch, it's better than having a hand you can't shoot with for weeks.
He pulls the bandage tight.
"Fuckin' a-- fuck!" she spits and runs a shaky right hand over her eyes. "Sorry, boss," she whispers. He ties off the bandage, raps his knuckles against the thin pieces of wood gently.
"I'm 'boss' now?"
"Not you; my boss back where I'm from. He doesn't like it when I swear."
"Then he probably wouldn't like it here."
Wendy laughs, and it echoes off the cinderblock walls. "Yeah, all the swearing we do, that's what makes this place a hellhole."
"You miss him? Your boss." Normally he wouldn't care - he and the boys try not to talk about the good ol' days much anymore because there's no sense living in the past - but this woman doesn't fit and her mere existence reminds him of the times when he used to like mysteries and puzzles.
"Yeah. I miss a lot of people but he..." She looks anywhere but at him, searching for the right words. "I know he's looking for me, 'cause that's the kind of guy he is, but if he knew I was here and he couldn't get me out, he'd jump right in with us. That's the kind of guy he is, too. Big on loyalty, watching each other's backs."
She wiggles her fingers carefully between the boards. "What about you; you have a boss?"
"Used to. She's dead." He shrugs like it's no big deal because talking about Magnus makes his head pound and his hands shake and the nightmares start not long after. "I don't know how she'd feel about all the swearing."
"You miss her." Wendy doesn't ask.
"One more thing you and I have in common," he says, packing up the makeshift first aid kit.
Wendy squints at him, gun trained on the door since his own weapon is lying on the ground. It's habit now; she thinks it's strange how quickly she adapted to the apocalypse mindset. "We have other stuff in common?"
Will looks at her and feels a grin streak across his face, crooked and foreign: "Oh, c'mon, Watson: we're both crazy."
* * * * * * *
He turns once and sees a ghost.
From the back, she looks just like Kate.
He reaches out before he can think better of it and when he threads his fingers through her hair she whips around, gun level with his nose, at the unexpected contact.
"What's up, Zimmerman?" she asks, lowering her weapon only a fraction of an inch because his one good eye is glassy with memories.
"Sorry," he pulls his hand back, wipes his palm against his thigh. "So sorry. You just look-- for a second I thought--"
Wendy lowers the gun, grabs the hand he's rubbing against his pantleg like it's covered in something contagious. She squeezes his fingers. "S'okay," she nods and he copies the motion because - somehow - she understands. "I'm just lucky you don't look like anyone I know, front or back."
And she leaves it at that because there's nothing else to say.
* * * * * * *
"Why are you still fighting?" They're sitting back to back in the middle of a room, keeping an eye on both doors and waiting for one of the guys to get back from a food run. They found another stash of canned goods. Finally.
"So I can get home," she shrugs and he feels it in his shoulders.
"But you don't know how to get home."
She twitches; he can't tell if it's another shrug or a wince. "Why are you still fighting?" she counters.
"For my son," he answers honestly. They should give each other that, at least.
She elbows him in the back, gently: "But you don't think you'll ever see him again."
He nods and the back of their heads knock together.
They're both fighting for something they never think they'll have.
It's nice knowing they're the same kind of crazy.
* * * * * * *
He lights a twig on fire and holds it out to her.
"Make a wish."
"What the fuck for?"
"You've been here a year. Happy hell." The fire eats down the wood and threatens to burn Will's fingers. "Just blow it out already, would you?" She plucks the twig from his fingers, drops it on the ground, and stamps out the flame with her boot instead.
"Think your boss is still looking for you?" Will asks and immediately regrets it. It's a crummy thing to ask.
"I know he is. I wish he wasn't." Will looks at her, surprised. "He's not the kind of guy who would give up on a partner. And if I really can't get back..." she shrugs. "This'll eat him alive til the day he dies."
Will spares a thought for Magnus and what she would do if he disappeared like Wendy. She would do the same thing, he decides, never, ever stop looking. And it would kill him to know he was causing her that kind of heartbreak.
Will pulls out his canteen, unscrews the lid, and hands it to Wendy. "Then here's to hoping your boss thinks you're dead."
"I can drink to that." Her hands shake and the water sloshes onto her chin.
Summary: The Middleman/Sanctuary crossover - Wendy gets sucked into another AU (like in TMM 1x12), but this time it's like Pavor Nocturnus. Basically, I started shipping Stuck-In-An-AU!Wendy and Pavor!Will (evidence: one, two, three). This is what happened. I blame caffrey. And phrasmotic and subtle__sarcasm, too.
Words: 1778
Notes: It all belongs to Javi and Damian. Title comes from the song "Save Our City" by Ludo. Also, I wrote this really fast and it's a little cracky, so I apologize if it sucks.
They're stuck in a foxhole downtown. He's got dozens around the city for when he and the boys are doing patrols and get caught too far out from the base. It's not really made for two people, but getting to know each other a little too well is better than the alternative, so they make it work.
"When I get home," Wendy whispers, her breath hot on his neck, "I'm taking the longest, hottest shower you can possibly imagine."
She starts sentences, conversations like that a lot. When I get home. It's how Will knows she's just as crazy as he is.
* * * * * * *
The first time he sees her, she is standing in the middle of the street with a weird silver gun that shoots green laserblasts. His finger stays on the trigger, but he pauses to watch her pop the heads off six zombies before he steps in to help. She's screaming as she shoots; Will can't hear it all but he makes out "Not again! Not fucking again!" before her voice is swallowed by the wind and the rain. She's not dressed for the weather (or the place or the time) but little surprises Will anymore.
When they've taken care of the pack that followed her down the street, he knocks her over the head with the butt of his gun and carries her back to the base for decontamination.
She slugs him in the jaw when she wakes. The bruise lasts a week. It would hurt when he smiles but he doesn't smile very often anymore.
* * * * * * *
She tells a story of a temp agency that fights crime and a supervillain who can open up holes to other dimensions. She's done this before, she claims, but last time there was more aerosolized soup and goateed versions of her friends.
The other guys figure she's a fighter - same as them - who's been holed up alone for so long that she's gone loopy. Will would buy it but that doesn't explain the gun or her clean clothes. The boys couldn't care less about the details that poke holes in their theory; she's not infected and she can shoot straight and that's all they need to know.
Will stays up nights wondering if she really is from another place, time, world like she says she is. Magnus was right: he always needs answers.
But after a while he accepts her story.
Why not?
Wherever she came from, she's here now and that's all that matters.
* * * * * * *
As the protege to the great, dead Magnus, the other guys defer to him on pretty much everything. He's in charge and since no one else wanted the thankless job, he shoulders it like everything else.
Until Wendy.
She argues with him and teases him and defies him like this is all some kind of joke. She laughs and smiles and once tried to get him to play tag as he and the boys moved a patrol downtown.
He loses his temper with her more often than anyone else and when he demands to know what the fuck is she doing and does she want to get them all killed and reminds her that just because she's not from this world--
And that's always about the time that she interrupts, grin sliding away. She gets in his face and growls so the boys can't hear: "Life sucks, Zimmerman, and there's nothing to be done about that. I respect your authority when we're knee-deep in shit - and you know that, otherwise you would have shot me and left me for dead by now - but you guys need to lighten up. A few jokes wouldn't kill you, y'know, not any faster than these dead-heads."
And then she steps away with a salute and a "Yes, sir, anything you say, sir" that makes the other guys smirk.
He's forgotten how to smirk. And how to laugh and tease and take a joke. Sometimes he thinks he keeps Wendy around because maybe she'll help him remember. And, y'know, she's a damn good shot.
* * * * * * *
"When I get home, I'm going to buy the comfiest pair of pajamas and only change out of them to put on my second comfiest pair."
"When I get home, I'm going to play Stump the Band with Noser until his fingers fall off."
"When I get home, I'm taking all of my zombie movies and throwing them in the dumpster."
"When I get home, the first thing I'm going to eat is an ice cream sundae with three cherries."
[When she starts talking about food, Will and the boys threaten to gag her unless she shuts up.]
* * * * * * *
The first time she's injured, it's stupid. She doesn't sprain an ankle running from the creatures, or get hit with friendly fire, or get her face sliced by a particularly vicious ghoul wielding a knife. She gets her hand slammed in a door when they're locking up for the night.
"Shit!" she cries, shaking the sleeve of her borrowed jacket over her good hand and biting down on the fabric. The last thing she needs to do is let the creatures know where they're sleeping tonight. As far as Will can tell she didn't break anything but he wraps the hand between two thin pieces of plywood for the night just in case. Most likely she'll wake up with a deep bruise and, while it will hurt like a bitch, it's better than having a hand you can't shoot with for weeks.
He pulls the bandage tight.
"Fuckin' a-- fuck!" she spits and runs a shaky right hand over her eyes. "Sorry, boss," she whispers. He ties off the bandage, raps his knuckles against the thin pieces of wood gently.
"I'm 'boss' now?"
"Not you; my boss back where I'm from. He doesn't like it when I swear."
"Then he probably wouldn't like it here."
Wendy laughs, and it echoes off the cinderblock walls. "Yeah, all the swearing we do, that's what makes this place a hellhole."
"You miss him? Your boss." Normally he wouldn't care - he and the boys try not to talk about the good ol' days much anymore because there's no sense living in the past - but this woman doesn't fit and her mere existence reminds him of the times when he used to like mysteries and puzzles.
"Yeah. I miss a lot of people but he..." She looks anywhere but at him, searching for the right words. "I know he's looking for me, 'cause that's the kind of guy he is, but if he knew I was here and he couldn't get me out, he'd jump right in with us. That's the kind of guy he is, too. Big on loyalty, watching each other's backs."
She wiggles her fingers carefully between the boards. "What about you; you have a boss?"
"Used to. She's dead." He shrugs like it's no big deal because talking about Magnus makes his head pound and his hands shake and the nightmares start not long after. "I don't know how she'd feel about all the swearing."
"You miss her." Wendy doesn't ask.
"One more thing you and I have in common," he says, packing up the makeshift first aid kit.
Wendy squints at him, gun trained on the door since his own weapon is lying on the ground. It's habit now; she thinks it's strange how quickly she adapted to the apocalypse mindset. "We have other stuff in common?"
Will looks at her and feels a grin streak across his face, crooked and foreign: "Oh, c'mon, Watson: we're both crazy."
* * * * * * *
He turns once and sees a ghost.
From the back, she looks just like Kate.
He reaches out before he can think better of it and when he threads his fingers through her hair she whips around, gun level with his nose, at the unexpected contact.
"What's up, Zimmerman?" she asks, lowering her weapon only a fraction of an inch because his one good eye is glassy with memories.
"Sorry," he pulls his hand back, wipes his palm against his thigh. "So sorry. You just look-- for a second I thought--"
Wendy lowers the gun, grabs the hand he's rubbing against his pantleg like it's covered in something contagious. She squeezes his fingers. "S'okay," she nods and he copies the motion because - somehow - she understands. "I'm just lucky you don't look like anyone I know, front or back."
And she leaves it at that because there's nothing else to say.
* * * * * * *
"Why are you still fighting?" They're sitting back to back in the middle of a room, keeping an eye on both doors and waiting for one of the guys to get back from a food run. They found another stash of canned goods. Finally.
"So I can get home," she shrugs and he feels it in his shoulders.
"But you don't know how to get home."
She twitches; he can't tell if it's another shrug or a wince. "Why are you still fighting?" she counters.
"For my son," he answers honestly. They should give each other that, at least.
She elbows him in the back, gently: "But you don't think you'll ever see him again."
He nods and the back of their heads knock together.
They're both fighting for something they never think they'll have.
It's nice knowing they're the same kind of crazy.
* * * * * * *
He lights a twig on fire and holds it out to her.
"Make a wish."
"What the fuck for?"
"You've been here a year. Happy hell." The fire eats down the wood and threatens to burn Will's fingers. "Just blow it out already, would you?" She plucks the twig from his fingers, drops it on the ground, and stamps out the flame with her boot instead.
"Think your boss is still looking for you?" Will asks and immediately regrets it. It's a crummy thing to ask.
"I know he is. I wish he wasn't." Will looks at her, surprised. "He's not the kind of guy who would give up on a partner. And if I really can't get back..." she shrugs. "This'll eat him alive til the day he dies."
Will spares a thought for Magnus and what she would do if he disappeared like Wendy. She would do the same thing, he decides, never, ever stop looking. And it would kill him to know he was causing her that kind of heartbreak.
Will pulls out his canteen, unscrews the lid, and hands it to Wendy. "Then here's to hoping your boss thinks you're dead."
"I can drink to that." Her hands shake and the water sloshes onto her chin.