FIC: In Another Life (12/22) - BtVS/Numb3rs
Title: In Another Life (12/22+Epilogue)
Author: lyl_devil
Rating: PG-15
Fandom: BtVS, Numb3rs
Pairing: Willow/Don
Beta: strangevisitor7 & kallie_kat
Words: ~37,500 (as of Dec 28, 2008)
Disclaimer: I don’t own either show. I just like to play in their sandboxes.
Summary: Every action has a consequence and every deal comes with a price. Willow’s life is wiped clean, so she makes a new one for herself in LA.
Master Post
Note: I don’t claim to know anything about magic, medicine or the FBI - what I didn’t pick up from tv and books, I made up.
~!~
Part 12
Don watched his girlfriend do CPR with a determination he'd never seen before. He'd only heard bits and pieces of what had been going on around Willow once she'd made it over to the receptionist he'd only met once. His attention had been divided between his worry over Willow and the starting of a plan.
Jack Munroe had pointed out all the off-duty security people, though Don figured he would have been able to pinpoint them himself. They all had the same look of intense fury on their faces while their eyes were wary and calculating. It was the same look that was probably on his face.
A few hand signals later - Don silently congratulated Jack for only hiring former military or law enforcement as security - and they were ready if the opportunity presented itself.
The moment arrived sooner than he thought, when the perps broke down at the arrival of the police. It was all over faster than he thought possible. The attackers were down and restrained by security - well, the perps who were still alive. The security guys hadn't been interested in wounding as they'd armed themselves, aiming for the kill shot instead.
This was a side of his life that he hadn't wanted Willow to ever see, and he worried that she wouldn't understand or be able to deal with the person he became on the job. It was probably why he had stuck to dating fellow law enforcement personnel in the past, Robin being the one exception.
He would just have to wait and see.
Then he heard Willow yell for an ambulance and his adrenaline spiked again. Luckily there was an ambulance less than a minute out. The police outside were more than happy to clear the way for the paramedics once it had been determined that Don and the others weren't the instigators of the night’s violence.
Don continued to watch her trying to save the life of a friend and co-worker, and wondered if maybe Willow wasn't the only one who would have to deal with a new side of the other in this relationship.
She fell away from the EMTs, letting the professionals take over but still staring wide-eyed as they tried to get the woman's heart started again.
Walking around behind her, he saw the smears and puddles of blood on the floor. Willow seemed to be wearing a lot of it, her dress stained black, red smeared from her knees down, and up to her elbows. A streak or two across her cheek and forehead showed she'd tried to brush some hair away from her face, and Don felt his heart clench.
She should never have to look like this, devastation and panic warring in her eyes, covered in the blood of her friend.
Taking off his jacket, he dropped it around her shoulders. She looked up at him in surprise, as if suddenly realizing where she was. He knew that look. He'd seen it on a lot of cops and fellow agents, usually after their first real fire fight or shooting. She was on the verge of shock, feeling disassociated and fuzzy.
“Hey,” he said softly, watching her blink. Her mouth wobbled slightly, and he could see her eyes starting to glisten, but she pulled it all back in. Crouching down next to her, he wrapped his arms around her, not surprised to fell her trembling.
“You alright?” he asked.
“I will be,” she said, her eyes going back to where the paramedics were working.
“We have a pulse,” one of the EMTs said, relief in his voice. “Let's get her on a stretcher.”
Don felt Willow sag into him at the pronouncement, and tightened his embrace.
“Hey, where's my badge?” he asked after a minute. He knew the cops would want to see it, proof that he was who he claimed to be.
Willow looked at him in confusion for a moment before shaking herself aware. A small smile tilted her lips as she shifted in his arms. He watched as she rearranged herself, pulling the left side of her skirt higher and higher.
He watched as she revealed his leather wallet safe and snug, strapped to her inner thigh by a black garter.
“If this was any other time,” he said as he accepted the badge, his voice gravelly. Don had a thing about her legs. He'd never been the kind of guy who was attracted to a certain body part, but Willow was different. He adored her long, luscious legs and couldn't get enough of them, whether they were encased in tight jeans, being hinted at through a slit in her skirt, or wrapped tightly around his waist. It was one of the main things guaranteed to set him off, and one which Willow took shameless advantage off. The black thigh high stockings and garter belt were proof of that.
Willow just blushed and looked away, pulling her skirt back down.
“Willow,” said a voice off to the side. Don turned slightly to see a young man approaching. He was blond and thin, looking just as wrecked as every other party goer. “Did you tell him?”
“Ethan?” she asked, slightly confused. “Tell him...?”
“About Level Twelve.”
“Oh, right!” she said, and Don had a feeling his evening wasn't even close to being over.
“What's this about Level Twelve?” asked another voice, this time older and more authoritative. Turning his head, Don caught sight of Malcolm Harrison, the head of Arctic Morgan security. He had more than a few bruises to match the lump on the side of his head. Traces of blood on his collar and shirt told Don it had been bleeding at one point, and that the man hadn't gone down without a fight.
“Ethan said he heard one of the robbers say something about Level Twelve,” said Willow, motioning to where the live gunmen were being led out of the ballroom.
“One of them had an earwig,” Don added, remembering the glimpse of the communication device in the leader's ear.
“'Earwig'?” asked Willow, her face scrunching up in confusion.
“Two-way radio that fits in your ear,” Don explained. He looked back to Harrison, asking, “What's Level Twelve?”
“Our secure servers on the eighth floor,” he explained after looking at Don for a moment. “It houses all the data for classified projects past and present.”
“So maybe all this was simply a diversion,” Don posited, eyebrows raised at Harrison. “But why need a diversion in the first place?”
“You need special access to even get on the eighth floor, and then only a few people have the necessary codes to gain entrance to the server room itself. No one's allowed access outside of business hours, except project leads - a security alarm goes off automatically if anyone even tries,” he explained.
“But if there was already a security breach somewhere else and the alarm went off...” Don said considering, his mind already going through plans and routes.
“Then they would probably assume it was associated with what was happening here, not a Level Twelve breach,” added Harrison, his face darkening with each word.
The security head strode off with a curse, already snapping orders into his radio. Don saw that many of the security guards were injured in some way, and that there weren't enough cops around to risk pulling them off the floor and perimeter.
“Willow-” Don began, looking down at the red head in his arms.
“Go, Don,” she said, her eyes earnest.
“You sure? I can stay here-”
“No, I'm fine,” she replied. “Go do your job.”
After a minute, he nodded in agreement. There were plenty of cops and semi-functional Arctic Morgan security; she should be safe. More EMTs were arriving every minute, accompanied by more police sirens.
He gave her a quick kiss before getting up and following after Harrison.
Don was only vaguely surprised when Harrison handed him a weapon and tac vest without question. Harrison understood that Don couldn't just sit back and let others go into danger if he could help, and Don understood that Harrison was only letting him help because so many of his team were unable to.
The one and only time Don had come to pick up Willow, he'd ended up waiting around the lobby for twenty minutes and had an informal interview with the man. Whatever the purpose had been - and he still didn't know - the result had been his name on the approved visitor list for whichever floor Willow was working on.
Accepting the assault rifle, Don checked it over with a professional eye before grabbing a handful of spare clips to fill every available pocket. The security armoury was deceptively well stocked, which shouldn't have surprised him as Arctic Morgan was a large and successful defence contractor with many enemies and competitors.
He also grabbed a hand gun, with a few extra clips for that as well. Harrison nodded in approval, and Don didn't know what to make of that.
In no time, the heavily armed group was silently making their way up the emergency stairs, Harrison in the lead. For once, Don had no qualms about taking a back seat to the other man, knowing that he wouldn't trust anyone else to lead his people into danger. Harrison had the experience, knowledge of the terrain and the trust of the six men with him.
They entered the eighth floor as silently as they'd ascended the stairs, and the hairs on the back of Don's neck prickled. His instincts were telling him that something wasn't right. The others tensed up as well, telling him that he wasn't the only one.
They spread out along the floor, bypassing large offices with multiple desks in each. Noises came from ahead of them, and Don tightened the grip on his gun. Harrison had briefed him that there was only one entrance to the server room, which required a swipe card and pass key to enter. He added that the door lock made an annoying beep when activated, meaning that anyone inside would know they were coming in.
They'd decided to simply toss in a couple canisters of knockout gas from the armoury and wait for them to either come out or drop unconscious.
It worked surprisingly well once the security guys popped the canisters and tossed them inside. They took up positions outside the doorway, waiting patiently for either the first perp to run out the door, or the five minutes required for the gas to fully dissipate. Harrison didn't want to go in guns blazing because not only was the door a bottleneck that would get his guys killed, but the servers themselves provided excellent coverage to hide behind. Also, Jack Munroe would kill him if he destroyed any of those servers, as several military contracts resided in them.
The first person to stumble out promptly collapsed and was pulled off to the side by two of Harrison's men. The next two came out almost simultaneously, but slightly more aware than the first one. They lasted a little longer than the first, but collapsed before they could raise their weapons.
They were the only ones to make it out the door as Don counted down the minutes. He wondered how many more were inside and if this was the end of their 'great caper'. He also wondered how they had managed to gain entrance to the server room, as he'd been led to believe that any form of tampering would immediately lock down the servers.
Harrison gave the signal when the five minutes was up, and they moved into the server room, Don following closely behind Harrison.
Don swept the room thoroughly but efficiently, absently noting the slumped figures on the floor. He counted four bodies, plus the three out in the hallway. Passing by the first one, he was startled to see a gas mask nearby, as if the wearer had been unable to put it on in time.
Don felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and knew something wasn’t right.
Before he could warn anyone, a figure lunged out at the security guy covering his back, knocking the other man to the ground and sprinting for the door. Don raised his gun, but was struck from behind before he could get off a shot.
He was aware that a few of the others were fighting their own assailants, but couldn't spare the time to think of them right now.
He fell to his knees and felt an arm wrap around his neck, squeezing. He realized he had precious little time to get loose before he was unconscious or dead. Dropping his rifle, he aimed his elbow into his assailant's chest, hitting hard and often until he felt the grip loosen and he was free.
Don barely had time to draw in a breath before a boot landed in his chest, kicking him to the ground. He was very grateful to the tac vest, as it absorbed some of the shock. He'd only have bruised ribs, instead of broken.
He pushed himself up fast and hard, sweeping out his leg on the off-chance he'd hit something. His leg hit a solid mass, which was shortly followed by a thud. Don crawled over, trying to go for his hand gun, but his assailant tackled him first. They rolled around on the floor, trading punches and hits. Don felt more than one knee hit his back and rib cage, and managed to twist around and deliver a hit to the throat in retaliation. That knocked the other man sufficiently off-kilter for Don to put him in a headlock, rendering him unconscious, but not before the man tried Don's own tactic of elbow-to-ribs in a bid for freedom. Don simply held on tighter.
As the man slumped in his arms, Don let him drop to the floor, not caring about the dull thud of a head impacting the ground. Looking around, he realized that the rest of security was just finishing off the last of the thieves.
Harrison looked up from the body by his feet - twisted unnaturally at the neck - and raised his eyebrows in question. Don nodded that he was ok, trying not to groan as he stood up.
There was a throbbing pain in his side where he'd been hit one too many times, and he hoped like hell his ribs hadn't broken this time. It had been a while since he'd been in a hand-to-hand fight.
The sheer number of throbbing points on his body reminded him of why he should be grateful that most of his action took the form of gun fights.
End Part 12
Part 13
Author: lyl_devil
Rating: PG-15
Fandom: BtVS, Numb3rs
Pairing: Willow/Don
Beta: strangevisitor7 & kallie_kat
Words: ~37,500 (as of Dec 28, 2008)
Disclaimer: I don’t own either show. I just like to play in their sandboxes.
Summary: Every action has a consequence and every deal comes with a price. Willow’s life is wiped clean, so she makes a new one for herself in LA.
Master Post
Note: I don’t claim to know anything about magic, medicine or the FBI - what I didn’t pick up from tv and books, I made up.
~!~
Part 12
Don watched his girlfriend do CPR with a determination he'd never seen before. He'd only heard bits and pieces of what had been going on around Willow once she'd made it over to the receptionist he'd only met once. His attention had been divided between his worry over Willow and the starting of a plan.
Jack Munroe had pointed out all the off-duty security people, though Don figured he would have been able to pinpoint them himself. They all had the same look of intense fury on their faces while their eyes were wary and calculating. It was the same look that was probably on his face.
A few hand signals later - Don silently congratulated Jack for only hiring former military or law enforcement as security - and they were ready if the opportunity presented itself.
The moment arrived sooner than he thought, when the perps broke down at the arrival of the police. It was all over faster than he thought possible. The attackers were down and restrained by security - well, the perps who were still alive. The security guys hadn't been interested in wounding as they'd armed themselves, aiming for the kill shot instead.
This was a side of his life that he hadn't wanted Willow to ever see, and he worried that she wouldn't understand or be able to deal with the person he became on the job. It was probably why he had stuck to dating fellow law enforcement personnel in the past, Robin being the one exception.
He would just have to wait and see.
Then he heard Willow yell for an ambulance and his adrenaline spiked again. Luckily there was an ambulance less than a minute out. The police outside were more than happy to clear the way for the paramedics once it had been determined that Don and the others weren't the instigators of the night’s violence.
Don continued to watch her trying to save the life of a friend and co-worker, and wondered if maybe Willow wasn't the only one who would have to deal with a new side of the other in this relationship.
She fell away from the EMTs, letting the professionals take over but still staring wide-eyed as they tried to get the woman's heart started again.
Walking around behind her, he saw the smears and puddles of blood on the floor. Willow seemed to be wearing a lot of it, her dress stained black, red smeared from her knees down, and up to her elbows. A streak or two across her cheek and forehead showed she'd tried to brush some hair away from her face, and Don felt his heart clench.
She should never have to look like this, devastation and panic warring in her eyes, covered in the blood of her friend.
Taking off his jacket, he dropped it around her shoulders. She looked up at him in surprise, as if suddenly realizing where she was. He knew that look. He'd seen it on a lot of cops and fellow agents, usually after their first real fire fight or shooting. She was on the verge of shock, feeling disassociated and fuzzy.
“Hey,” he said softly, watching her blink. Her mouth wobbled slightly, and he could see her eyes starting to glisten, but she pulled it all back in. Crouching down next to her, he wrapped his arms around her, not surprised to fell her trembling.
“You alright?” he asked.
“I will be,” she said, her eyes going back to where the paramedics were working.
“We have a pulse,” one of the EMTs said, relief in his voice. “Let's get her on a stretcher.”
Don felt Willow sag into him at the pronouncement, and tightened his embrace.
“Hey, where's my badge?” he asked after a minute. He knew the cops would want to see it, proof that he was who he claimed to be.
Willow looked at him in confusion for a moment before shaking herself aware. A small smile tilted her lips as she shifted in his arms. He watched as she rearranged herself, pulling the left side of her skirt higher and higher.
He watched as she revealed his leather wallet safe and snug, strapped to her inner thigh by a black garter.
“If this was any other time,” he said as he accepted the badge, his voice gravelly. Don had a thing about her legs. He'd never been the kind of guy who was attracted to a certain body part, but Willow was different. He adored her long, luscious legs and couldn't get enough of them, whether they were encased in tight jeans, being hinted at through a slit in her skirt, or wrapped tightly around his waist. It was one of the main things guaranteed to set him off, and one which Willow took shameless advantage off. The black thigh high stockings and garter belt were proof of that.
Willow just blushed and looked away, pulling her skirt back down.
“Willow,” said a voice off to the side. Don turned slightly to see a young man approaching. He was blond and thin, looking just as wrecked as every other party goer. “Did you tell him?”
“Ethan?” she asked, slightly confused. “Tell him...?”
“About Level Twelve.”
“Oh, right!” she said, and Don had a feeling his evening wasn't even close to being over.
“What's this about Level Twelve?” asked another voice, this time older and more authoritative. Turning his head, Don caught sight of Malcolm Harrison, the head of Arctic Morgan security. He had more than a few bruises to match the lump on the side of his head. Traces of blood on his collar and shirt told Don it had been bleeding at one point, and that the man hadn't gone down without a fight.
“Ethan said he heard one of the robbers say something about Level Twelve,” said Willow, motioning to where the live gunmen were being led out of the ballroom.
“One of them had an earwig,” Don added, remembering the glimpse of the communication device in the leader's ear.
“'Earwig'?” asked Willow, her face scrunching up in confusion.
“Two-way radio that fits in your ear,” Don explained. He looked back to Harrison, asking, “What's Level Twelve?”
“Our secure servers on the eighth floor,” he explained after looking at Don for a moment. “It houses all the data for classified projects past and present.”
“So maybe all this was simply a diversion,” Don posited, eyebrows raised at Harrison. “But why need a diversion in the first place?”
“You need special access to even get on the eighth floor, and then only a few people have the necessary codes to gain entrance to the server room itself. No one's allowed access outside of business hours, except project leads - a security alarm goes off automatically if anyone even tries,” he explained.
“But if there was already a security breach somewhere else and the alarm went off...” Don said considering, his mind already going through plans and routes.
“Then they would probably assume it was associated with what was happening here, not a Level Twelve breach,” added Harrison, his face darkening with each word.
The security head strode off with a curse, already snapping orders into his radio. Don saw that many of the security guards were injured in some way, and that there weren't enough cops around to risk pulling them off the floor and perimeter.
“Willow-” Don began, looking down at the red head in his arms.
“Go, Don,” she said, her eyes earnest.
“You sure? I can stay here-”
“No, I'm fine,” she replied. “Go do your job.”
After a minute, he nodded in agreement. There were plenty of cops and semi-functional Arctic Morgan security; she should be safe. More EMTs were arriving every minute, accompanied by more police sirens.
He gave her a quick kiss before getting up and following after Harrison.
Don was only vaguely surprised when Harrison handed him a weapon and tac vest without question. Harrison understood that Don couldn't just sit back and let others go into danger if he could help, and Don understood that Harrison was only letting him help because so many of his team were unable to.
The one and only time Don had come to pick up Willow, he'd ended up waiting around the lobby for twenty minutes and had an informal interview with the man. Whatever the purpose had been - and he still didn't know - the result had been his name on the approved visitor list for whichever floor Willow was working on.
Accepting the assault rifle, Don checked it over with a professional eye before grabbing a handful of spare clips to fill every available pocket. The security armoury was deceptively well stocked, which shouldn't have surprised him as Arctic Morgan was a large and successful defence contractor with many enemies and competitors.
He also grabbed a hand gun, with a few extra clips for that as well. Harrison nodded in approval, and Don didn't know what to make of that.
In no time, the heavily armed group was silently making their way up the emergency stairs, Harrison in the lead. For once, Don had no qualms about taking a back seat to the other man, knowing that he wouldn't trust anyone else to lead his people into danger. Harrison had the experience, knowledge of the terrain and the trust of the six men with him.
They entered the eighth floor as silently as they'd ascended the stairs, and the hairs on the back of Don's neck prickled. His instincts were telling him that something wasn't right. The others tensed up as well, telling him that he wasn't the only one.
They spread out along the floor, bypassing large offices with multiple desks in each. Noises came from ahead of them, and Don tightened the grip on his gun. Harrison had briefed him that there was only one entrance to the server room, which required a swipe card and pass key to enter. He added that the door lock made an annoying beep when activated, meaning that anyone inside would know they were coming in.
They'd decided to simply toss in a couple canisters of knockout gas from the armoury and wait for them to either come out or drop unconscious.
It worked surprisingly well once the security guys popped the canisters and tossed them inside. They took up positions outside the doorway, waiting patiently for either the first perp to run out the door, or the five minutes required for the gas to fully dissipate. Harrison didn't want to go in guns blazing because not only was the door a bottleneck that would get his guys killed, but the servers themselves provided excellent coverage to hide behind. Also, Jack Munroe would kill him if he destroyed any of those servers, as several military contracts resided in them.
The first person to stumble out promptly collapsed and was pulled off to the side by two of Harrison's men. The next two came out almost simultaneously, but slightly more aware than the first one. They lasted a little longer than the first, but collapsed before they could raise their weapons.
They were the only ones to make it out the door as Don counted down the minutes. He wondered how many more were inside and if this was the end of their 'great caper'. He also wondered how they had managed to gain entrance to the server room, as he'd been led to believe that any form of tampering would immediately lock down the servers.
Harrison gave the signal when the five minutes was up, and they moved into the server room, Don following closely behind Harrison.
Don swept the room thoroughly but efficiently, absently noting the slumped figures on the floor. He counted four bodies, plus the three out in the hallway. Passing by the first one, he was startled to see a gas mask nearby, as if the wearer had been unable to put it on in time.
Don felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and knew something wasn’t right.
Before he could warn anyone, a figure lunged out at the security guy covering his back, knocking the other man to the ground and sprinting for the door. Don raised his gun, but was struck from behind before he could get off a shot.
He was aware that a few of the others were fighting their own assailants, but couldn't spare the time to think of them right now.
He fell to his knees and felt an arm wrap around his neck, squeezing. He realized he had precious little time to get loose before he was unconscious or dead. Dropping his rifle, he aimed his elbow into his assailant's chest, hitting hard and often until he felt the grip loosen and he was free.
Don barely had time to draw in a breath before a boot landed in his chest, kicking him to the ground. He was very grateful to the tac vest, as it absorbed some of the shock. He'd only have bruised ribs, instead of broken.
He pushed himself up fast and hard, sweeping out his leg on the off-chance he'd hit something. His leg hit a solid mass, which was shortly followed by a thud. Don crawled over, trying to go for his hand gun, but his assailant tackled him first. They rolled around on the floor, trading punches and hits. Don felt more than one knee hit his back and rib cage, and managed to twist around and deliver a hit to the throat in retaliation. That knocked the other man sufficiently off-kilter for Don to put him in a headlock, rendering him unconscious, but not before the man tried Don's own tactic of elbow-to-ribs in a bid for freedom. Don simply held on tighter.
As the man slumped in his arms, Don let him drop to the floor, not caring about the dull thud of a head impacting the ground. Looking around, he realized that the rest of security was just finishing off the last of the thieves.
Harrison looked up from the body by his feet - twisted unnaturally at the neck - and raised his eyebrows in question. Don nodded that he was ok, trying not to groan as he stood up.
There was a throbbing pain in his side where he'd been hit one too many times, and he hoped like hell his ribs hadn't broken this time. It had been a while since he'd been in a hand-to-hand fight.
The sheer number of throbbing points on his body reminded him of why he should be grateful that most of his action took the form of gun fights.
End Part 12
Part 13