International Day of Femslash Bloodties/WMC crossover
Title: Meeting
Author's Name: sportysmurf
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms Crossed: Blood Ties / WMC
Pairings/Characters: Vicki/Lindsay
Prompt: Graceful isn’t my thing - IDF for cross_my_heart
Seasons/Spoilers: None
Warnings/Disclaimers: They’re aren’t mine and since they’re off the air, not sure who else but the authors own them so hats off to Tanya Huff and James Patterson. Just for fun.
Summary: A chance meeting leads…where? Mostly background because the more I write this pair, the more I think I could go further with them.
Author's Notes: I like the idea of these two, but as a pair of friends more than a pair really - I think they’d bust each other’s chops trying to outdo the other. This was harder than I thought and its not beta-ed but I did the best I could. All errors are mine.
Sighing, Vicki pushed her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose and stared up into the sky. Her deteriorating eyesight was becoming more and more of an issue. Not just now, with respect to her profession, but for everyday living. When would she have ever mistaken a garbage bag for a perp?
Still, her tattoo didn’t just twinge for nothing. Warily, she made her way down the alley between the houses. Nelson, you’re kidding yourself if you think you can find anything but trouble down here, she thought. You can barely see in the day, let alone in a proverbial dark alley.
Sudden movement near the end of the alley drew her into a run. This time, its something. I know its something, because the closer she got, the hotter her tattoo burned. Forgetting her inability to see, she charged towards it. And promptly tripped over another bag of trash, tumbling into the remaining daylight at the end of the alley.
“Aw, crap!” she muttered, noticing a pair of black boots in front of her.
“Can I help you?” inquired a rasping voice from above.
“NO. I’m fine, just lost my footing,” snapped Vicki.
“Well, this officer will be helping you find your footing elsewhere,” retorted the tall figure.
Vicki scrambled to her feet and looked up at the normally intimidating figure of Inspector Lindsay Boxer. Brushing off her clothes, she glared up at the brunette, trying to find something else to say. Instead she peered around, trying to pick up on where her quarry had gone.
“Look, you need to go, this is a crime scene -.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. Civilians can’t be here while you are still investigating. Which reminds me, if this is a crime scene, where’s the tape?” spat Vicki.
“What are you, a reporter?”
“Nope, former cop. So I get it. But since I accidentally “happened” onto your crime scene, you wanna lighten up? Its not marked and I certainly didn’t just lift the tape and wander in.”
Like someone else I know would, thought Lindsay.
“Alright, you want to tell me why you were barreling along into the area where my crime scene just happens to be?” she asked.
“Purely by accident,” Vicki managed a more conciliatory tone.
“You were accidentally running down a dark alley or you accidentally went ass over teakettle into my crime scene?” Lindsay couldn’t keep the grin from spreading across her face until she noticed that smaller woman wasn’t looking quite directly at her. “Are you sure you’re ok, Ms. -?” she asked, genuinely concerned for probably the first moment since she’d found the woman falling at her feet.
“Nelson. Vicki Nelson, formerly of the Toronto Police Service. I’m fine, why?”
“Inspector Lindsay Boxer, SFPD. First, I still need you to clear the scene. Second, you’re not actually looking at me and I’m wondering if either you are more hurt than you’re saying or there’s something here you’re looking for. Being that you are apparently a former cop, I’m going for - there’s something out here somewhere.” Lindsay looked at her expectantly.
Vicki toyed with telling the concerned woman the truth, but opted to state the obvious. “I am new here and got lost looking for an address. I got nervous and my sight isn’t too great, so here I am.”
“Uh-huh. And?”
“And nothing. That’s it.”
“’OK, since you’re fine,” Lindsay emphasized the word, “You can just - CRAP!” she tackled Vicki to the ground, just as a large fiery body swept through the air above them. “What the hell was that?” she exclaimed, ripping her gun out its holster and sweeping back and forth.
“Since I can’t see, I can’t tell you,” came the muffled response from beneath her, neglecting to mention that even if she weren’t lying on the ground she wouldn’t be able to see well enough to tell her.
Lindsay realized that she was likely suffocating the woman, seeing as she had covered her entire body with her own. Placing a hand on Vicki’s back as a silent warning to stay down, she rose to a knee scanning the area for whatever it was that had attacked them.
“Whatthehellwasthat?” Lindsay repeated, still vigilantly guarding their safety. “C’mon I KNOW you know what that was. Or at least you have a better idea than I have.”
Vicki rolled over and sat up. “Ouch.” She touched the fresh scrapes on her cheek and chin as well as the scuff on her forehead from her original tumble. Pushing up her sleeve, she checked her tattoo. “You can stand down now. Its gone.”
“Is that so. Again, just what was that? And how the hell do you know its gone?” growled the brunette, focusing her piercing stare on the blonde sitting beside her.
“It’s a long story. Can we possibly do this somewhere other than here? Perhaps somewhere not in the middle of the street?” asked Vicki, wearily.
Now how am I going to make her understand this without being fired into some psych ward? Inspector, you did say you were an Inspector, right? Well, that creature - demon, actually, is the reason I’m here in your lovely city. I can track its presence by the glowing tattoo emblazoned on my wrist.
Lindsay took the opportunity to take a good look at the disheveled young woman she was helping to her feet. Consciously or not, she was taking in her surroundings, including Lindsay herself, securing her location. Rising alongside her, she recognized that the blonde’s actions were very similar to hers, somewhat confirming her statement that she had been a cop. Some things just became instinctive.
“Give me a minute to report in and we can hit a diner close by.” Something told her that Jacobi and Tom wouldn’t be too pleased that she hadn’t just brought the woman in for questioning, but it was her call. She trusted her instincts that said there was a lot more to this woman and a lot more to this story. Both intrigued her.
Lindsay gave Vicki a quick clean up from her first aid kit since the ex-cop had vehemently rejected going to the hospital for “a few minor scrapes.” Minutes later, they were sitting in her favourite diner, sipping beer. Silently. Realizing that she ought to begin her explanation, Vicki pushed her bottle back and looked up at the inspector.
“Inspector?”
“Lindsay, please.”
“Ok, Lindsay, how much do you deal with the occult?”
Lindsay looked at her quickly. She remembered her brush with the occult and it wasn’t a fond memory. Several beers later the still incredulous inspector wondered what instinct had got her to this point. She focused on the blonde ex-cop across the table from her and remembered. Cindy.
Now why did Cindy come to her mind just then? Oh, right, the occult. And that cute little cross and bless herself thing she did. Who else could possibly make her believe? Well, coupled with their shared experience earlier that evening, Vicki Nelson might.
Despite her group of friends, Lindsay occasionally wished for another female cop friend. Someone who could truly understand the way she needed to make a difference and the manner in which she wished to pursue that need. This woman was so much like her. It didn’t matter that she was no longer an active police officer, her drive was the same and it showed that the old cliché was true - once a cop, always a cop.
This was the point where she would normally call the rest of her “club” and hash out how to attack the problem, but for once, the not-particularly-friendly Lindsay Boxer wanted to keep her new friend to herself. Conversation had now turned to random shoptalk about various cases they had had and stopped just short of having a Lethal Weapon 3 - type scar contest.
“Right, so you’re here until you, what, catch this thing?”
“Actually, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. I figure I’ll know when I catch up to it.”
“You’re kidding, right? You’re going to just walk up to a demon and say ‘Hey, demon, get lost?’”
“Got a better idea?”
“How about you call this Henry guy and I call my local occult authority and we formulate a real plan? I’ve just met you and aside from wanting to make sure this thing doesn’t go all occult on San Fran, I’d kind of like to see you live to return to Toronto.” And I’d like to have the chance to keep talking…
“I can agree to the last part, at least. I don’t have a death wish.”
“Deal. You contact your guy, I contact mine and we discuss tomorrow, er later this morning?” Lindsay was stunned to notice how long they’d been talking. Not generally much of a talker, she got the impression that Vicki Nelson wasn’t either.
“Ok. Just need to call me a cab,” Vicki stood, took a step towards the payphone and promptly stumbled into the table. “Maybe you need to call me a cab. I didn’t think I’d had that much to drink.” And she hadn’t she knew.
Lindsay looked from the table to the blonde just now settling herself back at the booth. “Uh, that’s the second, well third stumble you’ve had today - do you think…”
“Look, let’s just say graceful isn’t my thing and call it even, ok?” growled Vicki. She wasn’t about to tell her about the retinitis pigmentosa. She’d looked weak enough today and didn’t want to compromise her situation any further.
Having seen Vicki to a cab and called one of her own, Lindsay spent the short trip back to her home wondering what had come over her. All she knew was that she had truly enjoyed the time she’d spent with Victoria Nelson. And was looking forward to working with her on this case.
Author's Name: sportysmurf
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms Crossed: Blood Ties / WMC
Pairings/Characters: Vicki/Lindsay
Prompt: Graceful isn’t my thing - IDF for cross_my_heart
Seasons/Spoilers: None
Warnings/Disclaimers: They’re aren’t mine and since they’re off the air, not sure who else but the authors own them so hats off to Tanya Huff and James Patterson. Just for fun.
Summary: A chance meeting leads…where? Mostly background because the more I write this pair, the more I think I could go further with them.
Author's Notes: I like the idea of these two, but as a pair of friends more than a pair really - I think they’d bust each other’s chops trying to outdo the other. This was harder than I thought and its not beta-ed but I did the best I could. All errors are mine.
Sighing, Vicki pushed her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose and stared up into the sky. Her deteriorating eyesight was becoming more and more of an issue. Not just now, with respect to her profession, but for everyday living. When would she have ever mistaken a garbage bag for a perp?
Still, her tattoo didn’t just twinge for nothing. Warily, she made her way down the alley between the houses. Nelson, you’re kidding yourself if you think you can find anything but trouble down here, she thought. You can barely see in the day, let alone in a proverbial dark alley.
Sudden movement near the end of the alley drew her into a run. This time, its something. I know its something, because the closer she got, the hotter her tattoo burned. Forgetting her inability to see, she charged towards it. And promptly tripped over another bag of trash, tumbling into the remaining daylight at the end of the alley.
“Aw, crap!” she muttered, noticing a pair of black boots in front of her.
“Can I help you?” inquired a rasping voice from above.
“NO. I’m fine, just lost my footing,” snapped Vicki.
“Well, this officer will be helping you find your footing elsewhere,” retorted the tall figure.
Vicki scrambled to her feet and looked up at the normally intimidating figure of Inspector Lindsay Boxer. Brushing off her clothes, she glared up at the brunette, trying to find something else to say. Instead she peered around, trying to pick up on where her quarry had gone.
“Look, you need to go, this is a crime scene -.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. Civilians can’t be here while you are still investigating. Which reminds me, if this is a crime scene, where’s the tape?” spat Vicki.
“What are you, a reporter?”
“Nope, former cop. So I get it. But since I accidentally “happened” onto your crime scene, you wanna lighten up? Its not marked and I certainly didn’t just lift the tape and wander in.”
Like someone else I know would, thought Lindsay.
“Alright, you want to tell me why you were barreling along into the area where my crime scene just happens to be?” she asked.
“Purely by accident,” Vicki managed a more conciliatory tone.
“You were accidentally running down a dark alley or you accidentally went ass over teakettle into my crime scene?” Lindsay couldn’t keep the grin from spreading across her face until she noticed that smaller woman wasn’t looking quite directly at her. “Are you sure you’re ok, Ms. -?” she asked, genuinely concerned for probably the first moment since she’d found the woman falling at her feet.
“Nelson. Vicki Nelson, formerly of the Toronto Police Service. I’m fine, why?”
“Inspector Lindsay Boxer, SFPD. First, I still need you to clear the scene. Second, you’re not actually looking at me and I’m wondering if either you are more hurt than you’re saying or there’s something here you’re looking for. Being that you are apparently a former cop, I’m going for - there’s something out here somewhere.” Lindsay looked at her expectantly.
Vicki toyed with telling the concerned woman the truth, but opted to state the obvious. “I am new here and got lost looking for an address. I got nervous and my sight isn’t too great, so here I am.”
“Uh-huh. And?”
“And nothing. That’s it.”
“’OK, since you’re fine,” Lindsay emphasized the word, “You can just - CRAP!” she tackled Vicki to the ground, just as a large fiery body swept through the air above them. “What the hell was that?” she exclaimed, ripping her gun out its holster and sweeping back and forth.
“Since I can’t see, I can’t tell you,” came the muffled response from beneath her, neglecting to mention that even if she weren’t lying on the ground she wouldn’t be able to see well enough to tell her.
Lindsay realized that she was likely suffocating the woman, seeing as she had covered her entire body with her own. Placing a hand on Vicki’s back as a silent warning to stay down, she rose to a knee scanning the area for whatever it was that had attacked them.
“Whatthehellwasthat?” Lindsay repeated, still vigilantly guarding their safety. “C’mon I KNOW you know what that was. Or at least you have a better idea than I have.”
Vicki rolled over and sat up. “Ouch.” She touched the fresh scrapes on her cheek and chin as well as the scuff on her forehead from her original tumble. Pushing up her sleeve, she checked her tattoo. “You can stand down now. Its gone.”
“Is that so. Again, just what was that? And how the hell do you know its gone?” growled the brunette, focusing her piercing stare on the blonde sitting beside her.
“It’s a long story. Can we possibly do this somewhere other than here? Perhaps somewhere not in the middle of the street?” asked Vicki, wearily.
Now how am I going to make her understand this without being fired into some psych ward? Inspector, you did say you were an Inspector, right? Well, that creature - demon, actually, is the reason I’m here in your lovely city. I can track its presence by the glowing tattoo emblazoned on my wrist.
Lindsay took the opportunity to take a good look at the disheveled young woman she was helping to her feet. Consciously or not, she was taking in her surroundings, including Lindsay herself, securing her location. Rising alongside her, she recognized that the blonde’s actions were very similar to hers, somewhat confirming her statement that she had been a cop. Some things just became instinctive.
“Give me a minute to report in and we can hit a diner close by.” Something told her that Jacobi and Tom wouldn’t be too pleased that she hadn’t just brought the woman in for questioning, but it was her call. She trusted her instincts that said there was a lot more to this woman and a lot more to this story. Both intrigued her.
Lindsay gave Vicki a quick clean up from her first aid kit since the ex-cop had vehemently rejected going to the hospital for “a few minor scrapes.” Minutes later, they were sitting in her favourite diner, sipping beer. Silently. Realizing that she ought to begin her explanation, Vicki pushed her bottle back and looked up at the inspector.
“Inspector?”
“Lindsay, please.”
“Ok, Lindsay, how much do you deal with the occult?”
Lindsay looked at her quickly. She remembered her brush with the occult and it wasn’t a fond memory. Several beers later the still incredulous inspector wondered what instinct had got her to this point. She focused on the blonde ex-cop across the table from her and remembered. Cindy.
Now why did Cindy come to her mind just then? Oh, right, the occult. And that cute little cross and bless herself thing she did. Who else could possibly make her believe? Well, coupled with their shared experience earlier that evening, Vicki Nelson might.
Despite her group of friends, Lindsay occasionally wished for another female cop friend. Someone who could truly understand the way she needed to make a difference and the manner in which she wished to pursue that need. This woman was so much like her. It didn’t matter that she was no longer an active police officer, her drive was the same and it showed that the old cliché was true - once a cop, always a cop.
This was the point where she would normally call the rest of her “club” and hash out how to attack the problem, but for once, the not-particularly-friendly Lindsay Boxer wanted to keep her new friend to herself. Conversation had now turned to random shoptalk about various cases they had had and stopped just short of having a Lethal Weapon 3 - type scar contest.
“Right, so you’re here until you, what, catch this thing?”
“Actually, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. I figure I’ll know when I catch up to it.”
“You’re kidding, right? You’re going to just walk up to a demon and say ‘Hey, demon, get lost?’”
“Got a better idea?”
“How about you call this Henry guy and I call my local occult authority and we formulate a real plan? I’ve just met you and aside from wanting to make sure this thing doesn’t go all occult on San Fran, I’d kind of like to see you live to return to Toronto.” And I’d like to have the chance to keep talking…
“I can agree to the last part, at least. I don’t have a death wish.”
“Deal. You contact your guy, I contact mine and we discuss tomorrow, er later this morning?” Lindsay was stunned to notice how long they’d been talking. Not generally much of a talker, she got the impression that Vicki Nelson wasn’t either.
“Ok. Just need to call me a cab,” Vicki stood, took a step towards the payphone and promptly stumbled into the table. “Maybe you need to call me a cab. I didn’t think I’d had that much to drink.” And she hadn’t she knew.
Lindsay looked from the table to the blonde just now settling herself back at the booth. “Uh, that’s the second, well third stumble you’ve had today - do you think…”
“Look, let’s just say graceful isn’t my thing and call it even, ok?” growled Vicki. She wasn’t about to tell her about the retinitis pigmentosa. She’d looked weak enough today and didn’t want to compromise her situation any further.
Having seen Vicki to a cab and called one of her own, Lindsay spent the short trip back to her home wondering what had come over her. All she knew was that she had truly enjoyed the time she’d spent with Victoria Nelson. And was looking forward to working with her on this case.