The Unusual Suspect (1/?)
So I had refrained from making this journal fannish, but what can I say, it's what keeps me going. So here's my current KKBB WIP.
Title: The Unusual Suspect (1/?)
Characters: Perry Van Shrike/Harry Lockhart (eventually)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,026
Warnings: AU and mildly Western - can you stomach it?
Summary: Filled for rat_chan's Wild West AU prompt: Harry Lockhart is a reformed thief on his way to California to start a new life. Somewhere along the way, however, he gets mistaken for a bank robber with a price on his head. Perry Van Shrike is either a sheriff or a bounty hunter who realizes the mistake and has to protect Harry from the [other] bounty hunters. Bonus points for a scene about keeping warm on a cold desert night.
Author's Notes: This is only self-beta'ed and only vaguely researched.
Chapter 1
He was finally out of New York. After months of planning and saving up enough dough for a train ticket, Harry Lockhart was headed West with less than a dollar to his name and only the clothes on his back.
He’d been wary of the transcontinental railroad since he’d heard about it as a kid, but here he was, chugging along central New York, destination Chicago. From there he’d catch the steam engine heading out of Council Bluffs, Iowa and then it would be a straight shoot to the promise land: California.
As Harry watched the countryside glide past him, he could do nothing but sigh in relief. He was ready to start his life over. No more living day to day on nothing but stolen goods and petty cash. He’d get a real job in California. Maybe start his own business. He needed something steady, something stable.
He thought he’d found that with Harmony, but he’d soon found that the life of an aspiring dancer would never be predictable. He’d followed her to New York when she left home to be discovered by a talent scout. But when that didn’t work out and they could hardly scrape together room and board, Harmony split, went back home to Embry, Indiana to take care of her sister.
Harry was hoping to be able to get a lift into Embry before the train stopped in Chicago. It would be his one last chance with Harmony before he was gone from the East for good. Maybe he could convince her to come along. A great new state like California could sure use some fresh faced young dancers, right? She’d be sure to wow them out West, unlike the jaded bar owners in New York. Or at least that’s what Harry planned on telling her when he saw her.
The sound of squeaking wheels roused Harry from his thoughts as a young boy in a blue ticket checker’s uniform came by with a cart of newspapers. Harry dug in his pocket for the proper change and plucked a New York Times off the shelf, purely out of habit, and a curiosity of what he was leaving behind. Even if he wasn’t living there any longer, he should still keep up with the happenings, he thought to himself as he unfolded the pages.
Splashed across page one was the word WANTED in huge inky letters that practically oozed from the paper. Beneath it, Harry was shocked to find, was a familiar face. It was Ritchie, a fellow thief (or former fellow thief, as Harry tried to tell himself. He wasn’t associated with that crowd anymore), more commonly known to his friends as Handsome Dick and to his enemies as Little Dick. But Harry had met him years ago and they had formed a tentative friendship, working jobs together in New York. That was before he’d become infamous, before he had become the most well-known bank robber of the decade.
Below the grainy photograph it read:
RICHARD “DICK” GILLESPIE WANTED FOR ARMED ROBBERY OF THREE NEW YORK CITY BANKS TOTALING THE SUM OF 200,000 DOLLARS STOLEN. ANY INFORMATION SHOULD BE GIVEN TO THE NEW YORK POLICE DEPARTMENT AND WILL BE REWARDED ACCORDINGLY. LAST SEEN FLEEING THE CITY, HEADED WEST ON NEW YORK CENTRAL RAILWAY.
PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS:
- DARK HAIR AND EYES
- PALE COMPLEXION
- SMALL BUILD: HEIGHT - 5 FEET 7 INCHES; WEIGHT 160 LBS.
- LAST SEEN WEARING BLACK LEATHER JACKET, BROWN TROUSERS, AND BLACK WORK BOOTS.
Harry furrowed his brow at the description and looked himself over. That couldn’t be any more common, he thought as he continued to peruse the paper. Hell, that description could describe Harry himself and he was no bank robber. It made him wonder what led a man from being a little desperate like himself to just plain suicidal like Ritchie. He was thankful for his decision to leave town when he did, or who knows what sort of trouble he would be in at that very moment.
*
The newspapers were having a field day and Perry Van Shrike was glad to have been able to catch the midnight train out of New York City before the entirety of Manhattan was in a state of panic. He’d been tracking Richard Gillespie for almost a year now, but the man was more slippery than olive oil and was forever evading Perry’s grasp. Every time he got word of a robbery he’d be hot on Little Dick’s trail, only to be met with a dead end at the scene of the crime. The man was a fucking ghost.
But when news got out that he’d pulled a long con on the three largest banks in the city, hauling away two-hundred thousand dollars on a train headed west, Perry knew he could catch him. There was the thief’s mistake. There’s no way off a moving train, except a suicidal jump. And with all that money, Dick wouldn’t be ending his life anytime soon. All Perry had to do was figure out which train he was on and he’d be sure to nab him.
The morning’s Times had an enormous photo of Dick emblazoned across the front page, making it the hottest piece of news on the stands and sure to catch the eyes of bored travelers. With the help of the public and local police posted at every train station from here to Chicago, the thief was sure to be found.
Pulling a watch out of his vest pocket, Perry checked the time. It was nine in the morning - a perfect time to people watch in the grub car. He made his way out of the cabin and into the center aisle. As he suspected, the passengers were already buzzing with morning energy, roused by their excitement and growling stomachs.
The dining car was pretty full when Perry arrived and he settled himself in a far booth so he could keep an eye on the rest of the cabin. Not surprisingly this train was filled with a mix of working and middle class folks, some making their way to California in search of work and the possibility to strike rich on gold or oil, others looking to build a family. Perry’s eyes scanned each table, picking up on emotions, in search for worry and fear at the possibility that they were sharing their train with a bank robber.
As he let his eyes linger on each passenger, Perry did a double take on a man in the far corner. On first glance he bore a passing resemblance to Gillespie, but when Perry looked closer, he easily dismissed it. He matched the paper’s description, that was for sure, but this man’s narrow shoulders and scrawny build did not match Little Dick’s short, yet beefy and muscular body. Plus, Perry noticed, Dick’s eyes could never look that innocent. This man’s warm brown eyes looked more like they belonged to a child than to a bank robber. Yet Perry was disappointed to notice them lingering on a purse sitting not four feet from him. The woman whom it belonged to was distracted, attempting to feed her young child who fussed and fidgeted in his seat.
The man’s fingers set a steady patter on the wooden table before him and as the woman became more distracted, his fingers twitched all the faster. Perry stood up suddenly and made his way to the far end of the dining cabin, past the struggling mother. The man’s eyes finally left the purse when Perry’s body entered his field of vision and effectively blocked the tempting bag. Brown eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but Perry interrupted him.
“Can I buy you a drink?” It came out of his mouth before Perry could think of something better.
The man furrowed his brow and his mouth flapped open a bit before he responded. “Um, er, a drink? It’s not even ten o’ clock in the morning.”
“Well you look like you could use…a distraction,” Perry replied with a meaningful look and a raise of his eyebrows in a ‘Don’t fuck with me’ manner.
The man nodded weakly and gestured for Perry to take a seat across from him. For a few long minutes only the rocking of the train and the quiet murmurs and clinks of passengers sipping and stirring their coffee could be heard. But that didn’t last long. The man’s fingers began fidgeting again and Perry noticed that most of his left ring finger appeared to be missing.
“I’m Harry,” the man blurted, as if breaking a dam. He looked relieved to have finally spoken, and then couldn’t seem to stop. “Lockhart. Harry Lockhart. Or, er, Harold technically, but only my mother calls me that and I prefer Harry, anyway.”
Harry Lockhart continued to babble on about his name for a few moments longer until he noticed Perry staring at him, unblinking, and frankly not caring for an etymology lesson. “It’s nice to meet you Harry Lockhart,” Perry replied, his words drawn out carefully and deliberately. He almost felt that if he spoke as fast as Lockhart did, he’d begin twitching like him too and perhaps ogling ladies’ handbags. “I’m Perry Van Shrike”
“Perry? I think I had an uncle named Perry, or Peregrine…or maybe it was Pierre - no he definitely wasn’t French…”
Perry tuned Lockhart out as he watched the mother place her handbag over one shoulder and scoop the child up in her arms, leaving the dining car behind. When he returned his attention to Lockhart, the man was still prattling, albeit quieter and more to himself.
“Stop talking,” Perry said, and Lockhart seemed so surprised at the interruption that his words actually did die in his throat. But his fingers continued to drum upon the table. Only when Perry forcibly halted their movement with this hand did they stop. “Sit still,” he hissed, his hand still on Lockhart’s as their movement stopped.
They both looked down at their hands, and simultaneously pulled them back and tucking them under the table’s ledge.
“Sorry,” Lockhart mumbled, avoiding Perry’s gaze. “I’m not used to traveling by train. That weird feeling of movement while you’re sitting still. It’s unnatural, you know?”
Perry nodded vaguely and watched Lockhart. He didn’t look like a thief. But maybe he was just a bad one. “Where you heading?”
“California.” He looked uneasy when he said it, as if still struggling with the decision. “Well, actually Indiana first. Gonna check in on the folks and try to see if a friend of mine wants to come along. She could use some work...”
Before Perry could reply there was a cry across the car and a crowd was gathering around a fainted woman. He stood to get a closer look and saw that in one hand she gripped a fan and in the other, the front page of the Times.
Perry was suddenly on alert, his eyes scanning the cabin for signs of Little Dick. But the passengers had started to stir and panic made identification difficult. He kept his eyes on the exits.
“What’s going on?” Lockhart asked, pulling at Perry’s sleeve. “Did that lady faint?”
“Shut up, I’m trying to focus.”
“Focus? On what? She’s over there, looking, well, passed-out.”
Perry only half-listened as the commotion heaved even louder. Through the din of racing chatter he heard someone shout “Over there!”
Perry whipped his head to the source of the voice, and followed the direction of the pointing finger - to himself. Or rather, to Lockhart, sitting dumbly now with a gob smacked look on his face.
Shit. Perry cursed himself for not thinking about it sooner. If he, who had been following the bank robber for months, had thought Lockhart resembled Dick then the public was bound to think the same.
With a quick check that his pistol was securely in place within the confines of his jacket, Perry grabbed Lockhart’s arm.
“You’re gonna have to trust me for a minute, okay?” he whispered to a bewildered Lockhart. With his free hand, Perry pulled the pistol out and aimed it at Lockhart’s chest.
Chapter 2
Title: The Unusual Suspect (1/?)
Characters: Perry Van Shrike/Harry Lockhart (eventually)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,026
Warnings: AU and mildly Western - can you stomach it?
Summary: Filled for rat_chan's Wild West AU prompt: Harry Lockhart is a reformed thief on his way to California to start a new life. Somewhere along the way, however, he gets mistaken for a bank robber with a price on his head. Perry Van Shrike is either a sheriff or a bounty hunter who realizes the mistake and has to protect Harry from the [other] bounty hunters. Bonus points for a scene about keeping warm on a cold desert night.
Author's Notes: This is only self-beta'ed and only vaguely researched.
Chapter 1
He was finally out of New York. After months of planning and saving up enough dough for a train ticket, Harry Lockhart was headed West with less than a dollar to his name and only the clothes on his back.
He’d been wary of the transcontinental railroad since he’d heard about it as a kid, but here he was, chugging along central New York, destination Chicago. From there he’d catch the steam engine heading out of Council Bluffs, Iowa and then it would be a straight shoot to the promise land: California.
As Harry watched the countryside glide past him, he could do nothing but sigh in relief. He was ready to start his life over. No more living day to day on nothing but stolen goods and petty cash. He’d get a real job in California. Maybe start his own business. He needed something steady, something stable.
He thought he’d found that with Harmony, but he’d soon found that the life of an aspiring dancer would never be predictable. He’d followed her to New York when she left home to be discovered by a talent scout. But when that didn’t work out and they could hardly scrape together room and board, Harmony split, went back home to Embry, Indiana to take care of her sister.
Harry was hoping to be able to get a lift into Embry before the train stopped in Chicago. It would be his one last chance with Harmony before he was gone from the East for good. Maybe he could convince her to come along. A great new state like California could sure use some fresh faced young dancers, right? She’d be sure to wow them out West, unlike the jaded bar owners in New York. Or at least that’s what Harry planned on telling her when he saw her.
The sound of squeaking wheels roused Harry from his thoughts as a young boy in a blue ticket checker’s uniform came by with a cart of newspapers. Harry dug in his pocket for the proper change and plucked a New York Times off the shelf, purely out of habit, and a curiosity of what he was leaving behind. Even if he wasn’t living there any longer, he should still keep up with the happenings, he thought to himself as he unfolded the pages.
Splashed across page one was the word WANTED in huge inky letters that practically oozed from the paper. Beneath it, Harry was shocked to find, was a familiar face. It was Ritchie, a fellow thief (or former fellow thief, as Harry tried to tell himself. He wasn’t associated with that crowd anymore), more commonly known to his friends as Handsome Dick and to his enemies as Little Dick. But Harry had met him years ago and they had formed a tentative friendship, working jobs together in New York. That was before he’d become infamous, before he had become the most well-known bank robber of the decade.
Below the grainy photograph it read:
RICHARD “DICK” GILLESPIE WANTED FOR ARMED ROBBERY OF THREE NEW YORK CITY BANKS TOTALING THE SUM OF 200,000 DOLLARS STOLEN. ANY INFORMATION SHOULD BE GIVEN TO THE NEW YORK POLICE DEPARTMENT AND WILL BE REWARDED ACCORDINGLY. LAST SEEN FLEEING THE CITY, HEADED WEST ON NEW YORK CENTRAL RAILWAY.
PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS:
- DARK HAIR AND EYES
- PALE COMPLEXION
- SMALL BUILD: HEIGHT - 5 FEET 7 INCHES; WEIGHT 160 LBS.
- LAST SEEN WEARING BLACK LEATHER JACKET, BROWN TROUSERS, AND BLACK WORK BOOTS.
Harry furrowed his brow at the description and looked himself over. That couldn’t be any more common, he thought as he continued to peruse the paper. Hell, that description could describe Harry himself and he was no bank robber. It made him wonder what led a man from being a little desperate like himself to just plain suicidal like Ritchie. He was thankful for his decision to leave town when he did, or who knows what sort of trouble he would be in at that very moment.
*
The newspapers were having a field day and Perry Van Shrike was glad to have been able to catch the midnight train out of New York City before the entirety of Manhattan was in a state of panic. He’d been tracking Richard Gillespie for almost a year now, but the man was more slippery than olive oil and was forever evading Perry’s grasp. Every time he got word of a robbery he’d be hot on Little Dick’s trail, only to be met with a dead end at the scene of the crime. The man was a fucking ghost.
But when news got out that he’d pulled a long con on the three largest banks in the city, hauling away two-hundred thousand dollars on a train headed west, Perry knew he could catch him. There was the thief’s mistake. There’s no way off a moving train, except a suicidal jump. And with all that money, Dick wouldn’t be ending his life anytime soon. All Perry had to do was figure out which train he was on and he’d be sure to nab him.
The morning’s Times had an enormous photo of Dick emblazoned across the front page, making it the hottest piece of news on the stands and sure to catch the eyes of bored travelers. With the help of the public and local police posted at every train station from here to Chicago, the thief was sure to be found.
Pulling a watch out of his vest pocket, Perry checked the time. It was nine in the morning - a perfect time to people watch in the grub car. He made his way out of the cabin and into the center aisle. As he suspected, the passengers were already buzzing with morning energy, roused by their excitement and growling stomachs.
The dining car was pretty full when Perry arrived and he settled himself in a far booth so he could keep an eye on the rest of the cabin. Not surprisingly this train was filled with a mix of working and middle class folks, some making their way to California in search of work and the possibility to strike rich on gold or oil, others looking to build a family. Perry’s eyes scanned each table, picking up on emotions, in search for worry and fear at the possibility that they were sharing their train with a bank robber.
As he let his eyes linger on each passenger, Perry did a double take on a man in the far corner. On first glance he bore a passing resemblance to Gillespie, but when Perry looked closer, he easily dismissed it. He matched the paper’s description, that was for sure, but this man’s narrow shoulders and scrawny build did not match Little Dick’s short, yet beefy and muscular body. Plus, Perry noticed, Dick’s eyes could never look that innocent. This man’s warm brown eyes looked more like they belonged to a child than to a bank robber. Yet Perry was disappointed to notice them lingering on a purse sitting not four feet from him. The woman whom it belonged to was distracted, attempting to feed her young child who fussed and fidgeted in his seat.
The man’s fingers set a steady patter on the wooden table before him and as the woman became more distracted, his fingers twitched all the faster. Perry stood up suddenly and made his way to the far end of the dining cabin, past the struggling mother. The man’s eyes finally left the purse when Perry’s body entered his field of vision and effectively blocked the tempting bag. Brown eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but Perry interrupted him.
“Can I buy you a drink?” It came out of his mouth before Perry could think of something better.
The man furrowed his brow and his mouth flapped open a bit before he responded. “Um, er, a drink? It’s not even ten o’ clock in the morning.”
“Well you look like you could use…a distraction,” Perry replied with a meaningful look and a raise of his eyebrows in a ‘Don’t fuck with me’ manner.
The man nodded weakly and gestured for Perry to take a seat across from him. For a few long minutes only the rocking of the train and the quiet murmurs and clinks of passengers sipping and stirring their coffee could be heard. But that didn’t last long. The man’s fingers began fidgeting again and Perry noticed that most of his left ring finger appeared to be missing.
“I’m Harry,” the man blurted, as if breaking a dam. He looked relieved to have finally spoken, and then couldn’t seem to stop. “Lockhart. Harry Lockhart. Or, er, Harold technically, but only my mother calls me that and I prefer Harry, anyway.”
Harry Lockhart continued to babble on about his name for a few moments longer until he noticed Perry staring at him, unblinking, and frankly not caring for an etymology lesson. “It’s nice to meet you Harry Lockhart,” Perry replied, his words drawn out carefully and deliberately. He almost felt that if he spoke as fast as Lockhart did, he’d begin twitching like him too and perhaps ogling ladies’ handbags. “I’m Perry Van Shrike”
“Perry? I think I had an uncle named Perry, or Peregrine…or maybe it was Pierre - no he definitely wasn’t French…”
Perry tuned Lockhart out as he watched the mother place her handbag over one shoulder and scoop the child up in her arms, leaving the dining car behind. When he returned his attention to Lockhart, the man was still prattling, albeit quieter and more to himself.
“Stop talking,” Perry said, and Lockhart seemed so surprised at the interruption that his words actually did die in his throat. But his fingers continued to drum upon the table. Only when Perry forcibly halted their movement with this hand did they stop. “Sit still,” he hissed, his hand still on Lockhart’s as their movement stopped.
They both looked down at their hands, and simultaneously pulled them back and tucking them under the table’s ledge.
“Sorry,” Lockhart mumbled, avoiding Perry’s gaze. “I’m not used to traveling by train. That weird feeling of movement while you’re sitting still. It’s unnatural, you know?”
Perry nodded vaguely and watched Lockhart. He didn’t look like a thief. But maybe he was just a bad one. “Where you heading?”
“California.” He looked uneasy when he said it, as if still struggling with the decision. “Well, actually Indiana first. Gonna check in on the folks and try to see if a friend of mine wants to come along. She could use some work...”
Before Perry could reply there was a cry across the car and a crowd was gathering around a fainted woman. He stood to get a closer look and saw that in one hand she gripped a fan and in the other, the front page of the Times.
Perry was suddenly on alert, his eyes scanning the cabin for signs of Little Dick. But the passengers had started to stir and panic made identification difficult. He kept his eyes on the exits.
“What’s going on?” Lockhart asked, pulling at Perry’s sleeve. “Did that lady faint?”
“Shut up, I’m trying to focus.”
“Focus? On what? She’s over there, looking, well, passed-out.”
Perry only half-listened as the commotion heaved even louder. Through the din of racing chatter he heard someone shout “Over there!”
Perry whipped his head to the source of the voice, and followed the direction of the pointing finger - to himself. Or rather, to Lockhart, sitting dumbly now with a gob smacked look on his face.
Shit. Perry cursed himself for not thinking about it sooner. If he, who had been following the bank robber for months, had thought Lockhart resembled Dick then the public was bound to think the same.
With a quick check that his pistol was securely in place within the confines of his jacket, Perry grabbed Lockhart’s arm.
“You’re gonna have to trust me for a minute, okay?” he whispered to a bewildered Lockhart. With his free hand, Perry pulled the pistol out and aimed it at Lockhart’s chest.
Chapter 2