Visit the Foothills in Spring

Apr 13, 2012 03:06

**123/200**
YTD WordCount: 35,706

This story takes place in the Foothills MFUniverse created by Spikesgirl58 and is mostly about Del and only has Napoleon and Illya and the rest of the usual cast in it for a bit, so really, feel free to pass on by if you are looking for massive amounts of Illya/Napoleon. And to keep it thematic, the title is taken from some ABBA lyrics, just so ya know I'm following the rules as best I can.

Title: Where is the Spring
Author: Maggie
'Verse: Man from UNCLE
Claim/Characters/Pairing: Illya/Napoleon
Rating: G for Nothing Happens
Warnings: oh, there are ghosties and ghoulies and maybe one small kiss on the cheek between Illya and Napoleon, Matt and Rocky. And there is food. And planting roses.
Disclaimer: YO! I don't own them! I wish I did.
Summary: Just a girl on a return engagement.
Table/Prompt: Inspired by Fairy Tales Table Prompt: Pied Piper
Word Count: 8124
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“I heard a rumour of hot cocoa.”

Del looked up from the hole in the ground and squinted into the bright sun, holding her hand up to block the brightness. “That sounds wonderful, Napoleon. I’ll be about ten more minutes at this.”

Napoleon took a step to block the sunlight and was rewarded with a smile from Del. “I will be sure to save you a seat.” He smiled. “Are you sure I can’t lend a hand?”

“Thank you, but no. I’m nearly done and it’s a small job. But you can make sure Rocky doesn’t eat all the cookies.”

Napoleon laughed. “He’s not usually the one we worry about with the baked goods.”

“You haven’t seen him with the orange slice cookies trust me, watch you don’t pull back a stump from the plate.”

“I will save you a seat and a cookie.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Napoleon gave Del a salute and headed back toward the house, chuckling.

Del turned back to the dirt and the rosebush, smiling to herself and humming quietly. She finished filling in the hole with dirt and poured water around the bush, then started spreading wood chips over the freshly turned earth. She stood and surveyed her work, three freshly transplanted roses. Del continued to hum as she gathered up her tools and carried them to her truck, pulled the roomy coveralls off and bundled them into the footwell of the passenger side. She picked up her overnight case and turned toward the house. Once inside she slipped into the guest bath and washed up, put a sweater on over her jeans and tee shirt and checked one last time for dirt or twigs. No matter how careful she was in garden or greenhouse, she was a magnet for the detritus of her job. Del wrinkled her nose at her own reflection above the sink, “Face it girl, you are just too much an Earth Mother not to wear some wherever you go.” Her reflection stuck a tongue out and turned away when she did. Opening the door of the bath Del could hear voices from the kitchen and knew just where to find her hosts and her cousin as well as her cousin’s cute partner. She followed the laughter and smiled from the doorway when she found Napoleon holding a plate above his head and Rocky trying to cajole him into sharing. Illya’s back was to the doorway and Matt was looking through the refrigerator for something and none of them were aware of her watching, or so she thought.

“Welcome to Bedlam, my dear. Would you prefer marshmallows or whip cream on your chocolate?” Illya still didn’t turn from the stove, “Or both perhaps.”

“Yes please.” Del continued into the kitchen and smiled when Illya turned toward her as she leaned a hip against the counter next to him. “You do know my weaknesses.”

“I might have an informant. Shhhh.” Illya grinned at her.

“Or two.” Del reached over and took the plate of cookies, now behind Napoleon’s back. “Rocky, you’ll spoil your dinner.” She put the cookies on the counter behind her and crossed her arms.

“You sound like Aunt Darla.”

“And well I should.”

“Fair enough. I will return for a rematch.”

“Goofball.”

“But you love me.”

“Yes Rocky, I do or I would never have brought two more dozen of the things with me.”

“You’ve been holding out on me!”

Del rolled her eyes and ignored her cousin in favour of leaning closer to the stove top and inhaling the scent of hot chocolate approaching done. “Is there anything I can do to help, Illya?”

“No my dear, it’s really a one spoon job. You can lure your cousin and my partner into the other room with the cookies and get them out from under my feet though, that would be most welcome.”

“I’ll remember you said that, Kuryakin.”

Illya gave Napoleon a sly smile over his shoulder and Del could see a whole wealth of communication pass between them in that look. She sighed a little, not sure if she was impressed with their connection or jealous of that ease they had together. She decided it was maybe a little of both. She picked up the much sought after cookies and held the plate up over her shoulder and started for the livingroom.

“Does this make me the Cookie Piper? I don’t make pie, you understand.”

“Cousin, I don’t think the Pied Piper had a thing to do with pastry.”

“Well of course not, but I am not wearing particoloured clothes either, so still not pied.” The argument continued as they left the kitchen, Napoleon following and laughing at the bickering.

Matt joined Illya at the stove, “Never a dull moment.”

“No, and we wouldn’t change it, would we?”

“Not a bit.” Matt bumped Illya with a hip and Illya stepped to the side, still stirring his pan of chocolate as Matt opened the stove and pulled a roasting dish out.

Illya resumed his place when Matt shut the oven door and moved to the counter to take off the lid of the dish.

“So far so good.”

“Si, it looks glorioso, I hope it tastes as good.”

“We’ll see shortly.” Illya took the pan off the heat and turned to a tray of mugs on the counter and started pouring steaming hot chocolate into them. He sat the empty pan in the sink and went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl of whipped cream and set it along side the mugs. He dropped marshmallows in each of the mugs and then topped each mug with a generous spoonful of cream. A sprinkling of chocolate curls completed the process and he picked up the tray and headed for the living room. Matt followed after him.

“This is beautiful, Illya, thank you.” Del sat back with the mug Illya handed her and used a spoon to taste the whipped cream. “Oh, gods, it tastes even better!”

“Chef has secret skills.” Rocky was ignoring the spoon in favour of licking the melting whipped cream off the mug.

“I’m sure he does.” Del mumbled and took a tentative sip not wanting to burn the taste buds off her tongue. The chocolate was perfect for drinking, warm enough to melt the marshmallows and cream but not scorch her mouth, she swallowed a little more and closed her eyes to savor. “Vanilla and orange? And fresh made whipped cream.” She opened her eyes to see Illya smiling at her and nodding.

“I’m trying a few new recipes. It isn’t quite Spring yet so cold weather drinks and appetizers are still on the menu but I want some new things that aren’t holiday oriented but are still seasonal for Winter. We always have special items for Valentine’s day, but I want to change up some of our recipes. Matt and I have been working on some new dishes.”

“And Rocky and I have been bearing the brunt of the experimentation.”

“Napoleon, somehow I doubt that you have been abused.”

Napoleon grinned at Del and then nodded, “Oh you don’t know the tortures of trying new appetizers every other day, the horror-derves.” He made a tragic face and put the back of his wrist against his forehead, “I am so grateful you are here to help us in our hour of need.”

Del had to put her mug down to laugh, afraid she would spill the delicious drink. She hadn’t brought more than an overnight change of clothes and didn’t want to wear chocolate. “Incorrigible, that’s what you are Napoleon.”

“I’ve been saying that for years, it falls on deaf ears my dear,” Illya said before Napoleon could reply. Another look passed between the two and Del could tell by the way their lips almost curled into smiles but didn’t quite that she was witnessing part of an ongoing conversation, perhaps one that had been carried on for years.

Much later the table was littered with empty plates and empty mugs and nothing but crumbs to be found.

“I would say that your latest efforts were a success, gentlemen.”

“Not that you’re biased or anything, Mr. S.” Rocky grinned as he started to bus the table.

Del stood and started to help him but he waved her away. “You sit back down, you aren’t done yet.”

“I can’t possibly eat another thing.”

“Not eating, reviewing. Trust me, it’s your turn to get grilled.” Rocky turned with an armful of dishes and disappeared into the kitchen.

“It’s not as bad as that Del, but we would like to know what you think.” Illya turned toward her and smiled. “Your real opinion would be helpful.”

“My real unvarnished opinion is that this was all wonderful. There can never be too much garlic so the roasted garlic with capers and olives and everything, that was delicious. But I have to say that the scene stealer for me was whatever you did with the bacon wrapped things. What was that anyway?”

Matt laughed and said something to Illya in Italian.

Del turned to Napoleon with a questioning look.

“I think what Matthew said would loosely translate to ‘keep it simple stupid’, going by the look in Illya’s face.”

“I’m revealing my plebian tastes, am I?”

“I wouldn’t say that, Del,” Illya said. “I told Matthew that even the simplest dish, if served well, can be both satisfying and stylish. It doesn’t matter if a dish can be made perfectly well at home, good food is made better when you enjoy it out with friends.”

“I’m sorry Matthew, I don’t want you to think I liked the garlic dish less, I liked it differently. I liked it very much in fact.”

“It is not a worry, Del, I could tell you liked my garlic.” He smiled and leaned over to pat her hand. “We are almost ready for both to be on the menu, you are unhooked, si?”

Del’s eyes got wide and Illya laughed while Napoleon just sat with one hand over his mouth, mirth obvious nonetheless.

“He means off the hook, Cousin!” came a yell from the kitchen.

Napoleon gathered up the empty mugs and departed for the kitchen without a word.

Matthew said something to Illya, again in his own language. Illya chuckled again and nodded. “Yes, Matt, it means the same thing and it doesn’t. Remind me again how long you have lived in this country?”

Matt said something that did not need translation, and they both laughed. “Mi dispiase Del, the idioms, they are not my friends.”

“That’s ok, Matt. If it makes you feel any better I’d be lost trying to speak any Italian at all, let alone idioms.”

Napoleon returned to the livingroom, composure once more in place. “Don’t you boys have someplace to be? Why don’t you let us clean up here and you can go slave away some more.”

Illya checked the clock and nodded. “Come on, Matt, time to earn our keep.” He turned toward the kitchen, “Rocky?”

“On my way.” Rocky’s voice was muffled.

“You’re going to turn into an orange slice.” Del said as Rocky came out of the kitchen brushing crumbs from his shirt. “You’re a bottomless pit, you know.”

Rocky shrugged and took the stairs two at a time to catch up to the others. Shortly they all three returned dressed in work clothes and Rocky carried a bag that must have had their change of clothes in it. “Guest room is vacated, boss.”

Illya stopped in front of Napoleon while Matt and Rocky continued on to the front door.

“Have a good night, we’ll be along a little later.”

“We have some open tables for the second seating if you want?”

Napoleon looked toward Del, raised a brow. She shrugged. “Just let Celeste know that I will have a guest at the bar, so save a second spot,” Napoleon said, then leaned in to place a quick kiss on Illya’s cheek. “Don’t work too hard.”

“I never do.”

Napoleon just let out a snort and rolled his eyes.

***

Del noticed a few curious looks as the evening wore on. She and Napoleon were installed at the bar and she saw that more than one restaurant or bar patron would give her a speculative look and then if they were with a companion some clandestine whispering would take place and more looks would come their way. She wondered if it was because the locals had heard the stories from the previous year when she had helped in a search for a lost child or if it were more prurient speculation happening. On the other hand, the staff’s attention more than made up for the odd behaviour of the patrons. Every waiter and both bartenders had made a point to stop and say a friendly hello, Del suspected it was because Rocky had deigned to share some cookies in the back room. She was about to lean over and apologize to her host for the increased attention when Illya himself showed up to deliver the appetizer tray.

“I saved some for you, Del.” Illya leaned between Napoleon and Del and sat a plate of bacon wrapped water chestnuts on the bar. He put one arm around Del’s shoulders and leaned close, “The secret is to soak the water chestnuts in soy sauce all afternoon, then wrap them in bacon and hold that in place with a toothpick, then bake them slow until you have the perfect golden crisp caramelized appetizer. It also helps if you make extra because you will never have enough. Now, don’t mind all the sidelong looks. Napoleon can’t help but gain a reputation, no matter where he goes.”

Del looked from one to the other and Illya winked at her which made her smile. “I couldn’t decide if everybody was staring because of my reputation for being a bit strange,” she whispered, “or because everyone thinks I’m infringing on your territory.”

“We know the truth, and that is all that matters.” Illya smiled at both of them, his hand reaching out to pat her arm then lingering a moment on Napoleon’s forearm before he turned to go. “Rocky will be out with salad momentarily. Eat those while they’re warm,” he nodded at the tidbits and Del didn’t need any more invitation. Del relaxed after that and enjoyed the company and chatted with Celeste when she was not pouring drinks and was charmed all over again by Napoleon and his stories.

Napoleon had just ordered some after dinner coffee for the two of them when someone else approached their end of the bar.

“I hope I am not intruding?”

Napoleon turned and smiled, “Of course not, Sheriff. Would you like to join us for coffee?”

“I was rather hoping for an invitation, thank you.” He sat next to Del and took his hat off, smoothing his thinning hair and obviously ill at ease.

Napoleon was occupied making the additional order with Celeste and Del turned to the Sheriff. She watched him quietly as several expressions chased across his face, then he looked up and caught her and she noted with some surprise that he looked faintly guilty before his expression smoothed out to a detached and professional demeanor.

“You know, that lady with the daughter, she came to see me shortly after, ah, you found, we found…” Milt cleared his throat. “She said you went to the funeral, that you were a comfort to her.”

“I’m glad she thought so. I felt it only right, to make sure that her daughter was at peace finally.”

“And you’ve helped out around here I guess, that skeleton in the basement came with a story I heard.”

Del nodded, wondering what kind of story the Sheriff had heard about the very brief and thankfully solved haunting of the restaurant, or perhaps he had heard about the apartment above the wine shop that she had spent a night in and cleansed of a rather nasty looping energy left by an unhappy past occupant. It wasn’t a ghost per se that had inhabited the upstairs, but it had left a disturbing aura of difficulty that had needed dealt with. “I try to be helpful when I can. I’m guessing that you aren’t bringing this up because you have another missing person case that needs help?”

“Nope.” Milt shook his head and gave her a rueful glance. “Though your help with that incident was nothing short of incredible. Still not sure how that all works, just glad it did.”

“Those are the best cases to help with, when I find someone alive and well and can reunite the family for a happy ending.” Del smiled at the Sheriff, trying her best to put him at ease because he quite obviously wasn’t.

“I’ve heard around town that you sometimes help with, ah, unexplained things, stuff that seems out of the ordinary.”

“I have done a few house cleansings up here. There are a lot of old houses in the area and sometimes the new occupants want to be sure the old ones are really gone, or at least well behaved.” Del chuckled, “Sometimes they just want Great Aunt Martha not to play the piano at three in the morning. I do what I can to help.”

“So you make ghosts go away.”

“That’s the bottom line, I suppose. Or at least encourage them to move on to something better when possible. Do you have a ghost problem?”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of at the end of my rope here, and I hate to give in to superstition and whatnot.”

“If it’s any consolation, Sheriff, I have recordings you can listen to of actual unexplained phenomena. Though maybe that’s a bit too much information, mmm?” Del tried not to grin in the face of the alarmed look that the Sheriff was giving her.

“I’ve seen enough already, thanks,” he muttered, then more clearly, “Do you have some kind of contract or something, like calling an exterminator?”

Del laughed, “No, sir, I’m much more informal than anything like that. I don’t ask for payment or anything.”

“She says the people she is there to help don’t have the means to pay her.” Napoleon had been listening for a while. “But if you have something creeping around your house she’s your go to girl, Milt.”

“Well, it’s not my house, Napoleon. It’s my jail cells.”

Now both Napoleon and Del were trying not to grin.

“I wish it were as funny as it sounds, really.”

And that is how Del and Napoleon found themselves in the drunk tank.

“Do you need me to turn the lights down, or off, or…” The Sheriff’s voice trailed off as he once again ran his hand over his hair and down the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at the two people he’d just given a tour of his station’s small basement with its pair of cells, empty and standing open. “I have candles for emergency power outages, do you need something like that instead of electric light?”

Del looked at the Sheriff with concern, not sure if he was upset by the possibility of paranormal activity in his building or with coming to a point where he was willing to ask for help. She saw that Milt wasn’t really looking at her or Napoleon so she looked at Napoleon and gestured as if she were drinking. As she expected him to, Napoleon picked up on her plea right away.

“I do know what Del needs, Milt, water. And a lot of it. What do you say we let her do her thing for a few minutes and you can show me to the water cooler, hmm?”

The Sheriff seemed relieved to have a task to perform, he turned to lead Napoleon out of the hall and up the stairs. Napoleon hung back a little and stopped at the doorway, turned back to Del and held up his hand with the fingers spread wide, mouthed ‘five minutes’ and when Del nodded he followed Milt up the stairs.

“If only it were as easy as turning off the lights and waiting for something to go bump.” Del spoke aloud as she opened the bag she had retrieved from her truck before accompanying the Sheriff to his domain. She pulled out some jars and dishes, candles and a bundle of dried sage from inside and sat them out on one of the empty bunks. She tucked the pack under the bunk and set about putting the items out where she needed them, arranging candles and dishes of salt and blessed water around the two cells and in the short hall. She sat quietly on one of the bunks and breathed deeply, sighing out that breath and taking another, unconsciously toying with the small box of matches she held. She heard footsteps and opened her eyes to see Napoleon returning.

“Milt agreed to let you do what you needed to do. I hope this will help for now,” he held up an insulated coffee carafe and a pair of paper cones like what was provided with a water cooler. “Fresh and cold, one hundred percent spring water.”

“It’s lovely, thank you.” Del stood and walked out of the small cell and took the cups and pitcher and put them on the small sink in the other cell where she could get to them later.

“I’d be happy to help.”

“I might be a while, Napoleon, I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation anymore than I already have,” Del grinned.

Napoleon checked his watch then answered, “It’s barely half past ten and Illya will be clearing the kitchen until at least one. Besides, he knows where we are, he’s not above hunting us down if we don’t return home before he does.”

“Ai! Don’t even joke, I don’t want to be on the receiving end anything like that.”

Napoleon chuckled and shook his head. “I promise, it won’t happen.”

“I’d be happy to let you help, but I am not sure we’ll find anything, this place is practically sterile it’s so empty.”

“So all the stuff that Milt says happened?”

“Is undoubtedly what he and his deputies saw and heard. Folks like him don’t call in folks like me without a good reason. I just can’t,” Del turned in a circle, raising her hands up as if to catch something falling from the ceiling, “feel anything. It’s more empty than it should be even. In the normal scheme of things, we all leave traces of ourselves everywhere we go, strong emotions leave a kind of residue, a vibration if you will. And jail cells, even for temporary holding like these, should have some memories of the emotions that played out. It’s just strange that there is, well, nothing.”

“So if there is no ghost, who is doing all the crying and throwing things?”

“I have no idea. I’m not even sure there is no ghost.” Del started to light the candles, moving in and out of the cells then closing the door on the short hall to the stairs, coming back to the center where Napoleon stood.

“What’s your plan then, and how can I help?”

“This is a very small space, we can do a quick cleansing on it like we did at your home and then I’d like to see if I can get anyone hanging around in the ether to talk to me.”

“Do ghosts have conversations with you?”

“Sort of, sometimes. Other times I just see an endless rerun of past events. Most often I can feel the emotions of events that have happened in a place, I can sort of follow them to a particular something that happened, to the people involved. If those people are in spirit form sometimes they will talk to me, I can help them find their way out of where they are trapped.”

“And if they don’t want to be out of the trap?”

“Spirits get trapped because they can’t or won’t let go of an event or a person, or they get stuck in their fear of what’s next. Every once in a while I come across a spirit that is waiting for another to cross over, but they rarely cause problems. Very often they are a comfort to the person they are waiting for, still radiating care and love for them.”

“What about angry spirits?” Napoleon asked the question in a perfectly calm voice but there was a glimmer of something in his expression, there and then gone so fast that Del almost missed it, wondered if she’d imagined it.

“I don’t encounter them as frequently as you might think, but they do exist.” She was quiet for a moment then continued, “The angry spirits I’ve encountered are most often the ones trapped in a certain place, as if they are anchored by their anger. The strength of that emotion seems to keep them in place. It is difficult but not impossible to help them move on. Thankfully I haven’t had to deal with that for a very long time.” Del held out the string wrapped bundle of sage, “Do you still want to help?”

“Of course, my dear,” Napoleon smiled and took the sage she offered, “I’ve faced worse in my time, I’m fairly certain.” The look Del wasn’t sure she had seen was gone entirely and Del allowed herself to examine his aura more closely for a moment. The murky doubt was no longer there; the energy around her friend was clear and the colours were strong and deep.

It took them no time at all to circle the room with the sage and salt and water, cleansing the space of negative influences. Del sat on a bunk while Napoleon poured water into a cup and handed it to her. He poured another and sat next to her. “Cheers?” he lifted his cup toward her and she tapped the edge of her cup against his and sipped.

“And now the waiting. You don’t actually need to wait with me you know.”

“I know but,” Napoleon checked his watch, “it’s just after eleven and I don’t have plans until at least one. Unless my being here will inhibit your work?” Napoleon drank his own water.

“Of course not,” Del shrugged, “I am not really expecting much. I have no doubt that the Sheriff and his staff have seen and heard things, but I usually pick things up right when I walk into a place.”

“What would you usually do while waiting?”

“I’d sit quietly or meditate, I might recite some comforting prayers. If I already feel something in the room or area I invite them to come out, to show themselves or talk to me.” Del finished her water and held the cup up when Napoleon picked up the carafe with a questioning look. She nodded and he poured. “And yes, before you ask, even us heathens have prayers.” Del smiled at the look on his face.

“I would be the last to doubt your faith, Del. I’ve seen you…” Napoleon stopped speaking as a hollow knock softly sounded. They both looked toward the metal door, still shut. There was a window in the door and they could see no one on the other side of it. Napoleon drained his cup of water and sat it next to the pitcher, then stood and walked quietly to the door and looked out the window. He turned to Del and shook his head, the hall outside was empty. Napoleon took two steps away from the door and there was another sound, a rattling as if someone had thrown gravel against the cinder block wall. Napoleon stopped short, locked gazes with Del and they both stayed absolutely still. The moment passed and Napoleon continued forward, taking his place next to Del to sit again on the bunk. Del reached down and slid her pack from under the bunk and pulled out a cassette recorder. She pressed the record button and sat the recorder on the floor. She stated the date and her name for the recording and then Napoleon’s name.

“If you want to communicate with us, we’re here to listen.” Del glanced at Napoleon who simply sat next to her, seeming relaxed. His aura, she noticed, had a golden tinge to it. He was curious but also confident and not at all frightened. He had a soothing aura, the colours swirling slowly as a still pond would if a person just brushed fingertips across it. She addressed the room once more, “Will you knock again?”

Several minutes passed; nothing happened. Del was used to sitting quietly in near empty rooms, waiting for the unseen to make itself known. She was impressed with how still Napoleon was and wondered where he’d gotten his talent for patience. Del was just wondering if they should leave for a few minutes when the sound of gravel against the wall happened once more.

“Will you tell us your name or why you are here? We want to help you find your way.” Silence greeted Del’s words. She waited several more minutes and then stood and started to gather up the things she had earlier laid out, explaining as she went, “We’re going to go upstairs for a little while so I can have a chance to talk to the others who have seen and heard things here, it might be helpful.”

Napoleon gathered the cups and carafe of water and followed Del to the door where they paused and Del noted for the recorder that was still going that they were leaving. She softly shut the metal door on the little entryway and pair of cells.

“I still can’t feel a thing in there, Napoleon. I think they have a poltergeist.”

The pair were sitting in the Sheriff’s own office, Del drinking water and Napoleon inspecting the framed documents on the wall. He turned to her, “And that is?”

“Sorry, I forget sometimes that I need to actually explain things. It’s a manifestation of energy that can make noise and sometimes even move things, but it isn’t exactly a ghost.”

“We had things moving in the restaurant.”

“When I came up and cleared your ghost, it was an exceptional case. Your ghost, well, ghosts, those were intelligent entities that had an agenda and were actually stuck in place because of their sorrow and confusion. We helped them clear up the confusion and they moved on to what I hope is a better place. The furniture moving and whatnot,” Del paused and finished her water, “that was a byproduct of all the emotional energy that came out when the ghost was released from the accidental tomb in the basement.”

“So this poltergeist, it doesn’t have an intelligence anymore?”

“It’s more likely that this disturbance is being caused by someone living, they just don’t know it.”

The door opened and the Sheriff joined them, carrying coffee for Napoleon and himself, Del had declined in favour of water. Once Milt and Napoleon sat Del asked the Sheriff, “Do you have anyone working here in the station that has a young teen at home or have you had a reason to have someone that young down in your holding area recently?”

The Sheriff shook his head, “Nobody that young gets put in a cell, usually if a kid gets in trouble we keep them up here until their parents come to get them. Most of my staff seem like kids to me, but a couple of them have little kids. Except for Lions, his younger sister lives with him.”

“What does Lions do here?”

“Kelly Lions is a dispatcher and sometimes our jailer if we need one, he does a lot of fill in around the station, doing whatever we need. He’s a good kid and a hard worker.”

“And his sister lives with him?”

“Their parents were killed in a car accident so he’s her guardian. She’s fifteen, going on sixteen here soon. Quiet girl, never any trouble, adores her big brother.” Milt sipped his coffee and watched Del think this over.

“Let me take a guess here,” Del said after several moments of silence, “Kelly Lions was the first to report something strange in the basement.”

Napoleon and Milt exchanged a look, surprise and confirmation on Milt’s face and Napoleon simply shrugging. “Yes, he was,” Milt told Del.

“I think you have a poltergeist in your basement, but that isn’t really what we think of as the usual kind of ghost haunting things or places. A poltergeist is most often caused by a living person, though they aren’t aware of doing it.” Del finished her drink and sat the cup next to the empty pitcher of water. “You know how a young person will react to things that upset them, sometimes if they are angry they act out or pick fights or if they feel ignored will shoplift just to get attention, well, this is another kind of acting out. It might be from suppressed emotion or trauma and I can promise that it is not intentional.”

“And you think it’s Lions or his sister?”

“I can only guess at this point, but I suspect that the death of their parents has caused Mr. Lions’ little sister to feel a lot of things that she doesn’t have a way to express, she is probably overwhelmed by those emotions and her subconscious is trying to find an outlet.”

“But she’s never been in our jail cells.” Milt looked confused.

“She wouldn’t need to have been, her brother works here. She might be transferring her sorrow and fear and whatever else she is feeling to an attachment to him, and so the energy would follow him. Even when he isn’t present, that energy might bounce around here because he spends a lot of time in this building.” Del shrugged. “It’s only a theory.”

The paper cup Del had been drinking from rolled off the desk and onto the floor. All three of them looked at it for a long moment. Milt was pale, Napoleon had a slightly amused look on his face and Del just leaned over and picked up the cup and dropped it in the trash.

“I’m not leaving town until tomorrow afternoon Sheriff, perhaps a meeting with your Mr. Lions could be arranged and I’ll explain my theory and see if I can help him and his sister before this escalates into broken knickknacks and things in their house.” Del smiled as the Sheriff looked relieved.

“‘My’ Mr. Lions, as you call him, is working tonight. His shift started at eleven. It’s been a quiet night in dispatch, you can meet him now. Let’s see if we can clear this up.”

“I will be happy to meet him, but I don’t know if it will clear up overnight.”

Milt sat behind his desk for a moment, frowning in thought. He rubbed his chin and then smoothed his hair with both hands. “How will you know if it’s his sister?”

Del shrugged and spread her hands in front of her. “It’s not an exact science.” She chuckled, “It’s not a science at all, is it? I think if I visit with him, talk about what’s going on and what I think is causing it, we will see an upswing in activity as his emotions engage in the conversation. And I see the look on your face, Sheriff. He is not the likely source of the disturbance, just the focus.”

“I’m usually a better poker player,” Milt said under his breath. He continued louder, “You can visit with him in here if you want.

“Don’t worry, Milt, we won’t use it against you at the next charity poker game.” Napoleon said.

“You say that now, Solo.”

“It’s not a big thing, Sheriff, I’m just pretty good with expressions. Your secret is safe with me.” Del wasn’t going to tell Milt she had read the uncertainty in the muddy streaks through his aura. “I don’t think we should talk in here though, too many projectiles,“ she gestured at the frames on the walls and books on the shelves, so many loose items around.

“How about the break room, not so many pictures or whatnot.”

“That would be fine, Sheriff, thank you.”

“Come on then, I’ll give you the rest of the tour of my department.”

And that is how Del found herself sitting in a small windowless room that held nothing but a table and some chairs, an old refrigerator that seemed to be wheezing out its last breath and a sink that dripped. The door opened and the Sheriff came in followed by a young man in a sharply pressed brown uniform. From the tips of his polished shoes to the top of his nearly military cut hair, he was the picture of squared away officer of the law. His aura was clear bands of deepest blues and reds shot with violet; here was a man who felt he knew his calling and his place and would follow them true to his very best.

The Sheriff introduced Del and excused himself, “Solo offered to watch the dispatch desk but I’m not liking the idea, no matter how quiet it is out there tonight,” he shut the door softly after himself.

“Hello Deputy Lions, it’s very nice to meet you.”

“Did you really think I’d leave you alone with my radio equipment?” The Sheriff sat heavily in the chair behind the counter.

Napoleon turned from the window and grinned, “Obviously not.”

“What do you think of her theory?” Milt nodded back toward the hall that led to the little break room.

“I think she’ll do her best to get to the bottom of the problem. She‘s pretty sharp, I think you remember.”

Before Milt could reply, there was a rattling sound and the men watched a pencil cup on the desk shake.

“My sister worries about me. She shouldn’t, but I guess she can’t help it anymore than I can help worrying right back, you know?” Kelly Lions toyed with the bottle cap on the table, spinning it and sliding it back and forth even as he drank the soda-pop that the cap came from. “There’s twelve years between us so she was just a little kid when I left home for school. We were close anyway. We still are, but it has been hard on her, this last year. There’s only us now. Since mom and dad died in that car crash Angie has been living with me. I’m happy to have her and she’s no trouble at all, but it’s like she’s always waiting for something to happen. She’s on her best behaviour all the time, sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in an episode of Ozzie and Harriet. She’s a teenager, you know, she should be giggling with her friends and bugging me to buy her go-go boots.” Kelly finished his drink.

Del watched him play with the bottle cap and then the empty soda-pop bottle; he seemed to need to keep moving even if only to fidget. She didn’t think he was nervous but perhaps not used to talking about himself. “Have you noticed things going missing in your home, small items like keys or pocket knives, like that?” When Kelly nodded Del continued, “And then did you sometimes find them again in strange places, somewhere you never would have left your keys?”

“I keep finding my dad’s pocket watch in the dish drainer or on top of the refrigerator, strange places. It is supposed to be on my dresser but it went missing for a while and then turned up in the kitchen. I didn’t think much of it, but it kept happening. One morning I found it on the floor by the front door and I put it in my pocket as I was leaving for work. I took it out of my pocket and left it in my locker here at work for a while and it disappeared and I found it again several days later in my own kitchen. That was the first time we started having problems here in the station.”

The radio crackled to life and the Sheriff was busy for several minutes with it; if his other deputies wondered why he was manning the radios they didn’t say. Napoleon stood and paced along the front wall of the small office, dark windows covered by wooden blinds kept the dark night outside. He peered out the window in the door, nothing was stirring out there.

A hollow knocking sound came from behind him, he turned and saw that the Sheriff was still talking on the radio on the other side of the room. The knock sounded again, from the hallway this time and Napoleon followed. The knocking sounded just as it had in the basement, hollow and wooden. Every door in the station was metal or metal with glass, most of the walls were cinderblock. There was no explanation for the knocking, but Napoleon continued to follow it. He found himself at the head of the stairs to the cells in the basement where he and Del had started the night.

“I know you remember what it’s like to be a teenager, Kelly, it isn’t easy. And for some kids who might be a little more sensitive, well, what we find unbearable about being a teenager is nearly impossible for them. But we are pretty adaptable, us humans, so we find ways to push all that emotion and upset away. Some of us tamp it down into little boxes and ignore it. Some of us throw ourselves into sports or studies or things that distract us. We find ways to cope, at least until we can’t cope anymore.” Del watched the deputy sitting across the small table, his eyes seemed to hold an understanding of what she was saying that went deeper than mere sympathy. “I think your sister is a sensitive girl and she has had a lot to cope with recently. She is dealing not just with all the usual angst that goes with being nearly sixteen but also with missing her parents and more than likely a little guilt at feeling like a burden to you.” Del saw the look in Kelly’s eyes and headed his protest off at the pass, “I know you don’t think of her as a burden, but she loves you and I am willing to bet that she hates the idea that you got stuck with her, even though she knows you love her.”

Kelly nodded, his heated protest silenced. He sat and stared at the empty bottle he was rolling between his palms, then sat it aside and looked at Del again. “How do I know this is her? And how can I help her? We’ve never been religious, do I need to call a priest?”

Del tried not to laugh, managed to only smile. “Your sister is not possessed. This has nothing to do with demons or Sunday School. What I think is happening is that she is trying very hard to suppress a lot of emotions right now; she may not even be able to tell you all of them. This is causing a bunch of excess energy and that energy is making things move and sounds happen,” Del paused a moment. “It’s like static electricity building up when you shuffle across a carpet, then you touch something or someone and you get a shock. There are a lot of reasons why this phenomenon might be following you to work; the simplest is that your worry for your sister is causing just as much energy and so her energy and yours are sort of looping with one another. It could also be that she is projecting the energy in your direction because she is worried about losing you.”

The bottle cap that Kelly had abandoned on the tabletop started spinning.

Napoleon could see from the doorway that the tape recorder had stopped. He checked his watch and saw that the tape would have run out and the machine had stopped automatically. He picked it up and tucked it into Del’s pack, checked to see if there were any of her things still in the basement and then carried the bag out the door and upstairs. Halfway up the stairs again there was a knock. Napoleon stopped still, one hand on the banister and the other holding the strap of the pack.

“Can I help you?” he asked softly.

There was no answer.

The next day everyone slept late. Del finally wandered out of the guest room and found her hosts in the kitchen along with the sounds and wonderful scents of brunch.

“Sit down, my dear. We’re almost ready to serve. Coffee?”

“Yes please, Napoleon. May I help with anything?”

“No, it’s hardly a job for two, I just like to pretend I will ever be able to duplicate Illya’s culinary masterworks.” Napoleon brought a mug and the coffee pot to the table, filled the mug and returned the pot to the hotplate, bringing cream back to the table and offering it to Del who smiled her thanks. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a very sleepy baby, thank you,” Del sipped her coffee and closed her eyes in pleasure at the taste.

Illya brought plates to the table and sat them before his guest and partner, then sat with his own plate and passed a warmed pitcher of syrup around the table.

“I don’t know what this is but it looks fantastic,” Del leaned over and inhaled as she poured a drizzle of syrup over the food, “and smells even better.”

“It’s stuffed French toast with cane syrup.” Illya watched as Napoleon and Del took big bites and then when he was satisfied that they were pleased he started to eat his own breakfast.

“This apple filling is amazing, how do you get the apples to stay crisp and the filling to be so light, and this crunchy topping, oh so good!” Del stopped talking and started to eat with intent, stopping only to savor a new combination of the flavours from her plate.

It wasn’t long until their plates were nearly licked clean and the three were sipping one more cup of coffee. “You know, I have a client who is looking to have their berry thickets thinned a bit and it is nearly time to take care of them. How would you two feel about having some blackberries in your garden?”

“You do know you are welcome anytime, Del, you don’t need an excuse to come for a visit.” Illya smiled over his coffee cup as he spoke, glancing at Napoleon with a look that encouraged him to confirm the standing invitation.

“Illya’s right.”

“Thank you so much, but I really feel better if there is an exchange, you know. It makes it seem less like I’m couch surfing and more like I’m earning my keep.”

“Think of it like this, Del,” Napoleon reached out and patted her hand, “you helped us keep our place safe from otherworldly intrusion and so you will always have a place in our hearts and our home. And I suspect that you have a new fan in the Sheriff and he will be less reluctant to ask for help in future. You may find you need a place here more often.”

“Maybe I was thinking that a blackberry filling on this dish would taste good.”

“It would, yes.” Illya got a look in his eyes that Napoleon recognized.

“Come along Del, let’s leave my partner to his planning. He only gets that look when he’s ready to blow something up and I’d rather be outside when the shrapnel falls. We’ll come back in after we finish our coffee and take care of the dishes and any fallout, hmmm?”

Outside with their coffee nearly finished and lazily enjoying the late morning sun, Napoleon turned more serious. “Do you think that the Sheriff’s problems are solved?”

“Nearly. I am certain it is Lions and his sister unknowingly causing the disturbance. Ideally they would really benefit from some therapy, but I am not sure that Kelly will agree to it. It’s not very macho to see a shrink, no matter how much it would help his sister.”

“Oh, you might be surprised. I think he can be convinced. And he does adore his sister, we go pretty far for those we love, don’t we?”

“Thankfully, yes.” Del smiled up at Napoleon and then out over the garden filled with Spring.

spikesgirl's abba/foothills mfuniverse, slash, fanfic, mission_insane

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