FIC: In Another Life (14/22) - BtVS/Numb3rs
Title: In Another Life (14/22+Epilogue)
Author: lyl_devil
Rating: PG-15
Fandom: BtVS, Numb3rs
Pairing: Willow/Don
Beta: strangevisitor7 & kallie_kat
Words: ~38,500 (as of Jan 11, 2009)
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 14
A pounding on the door seeped its way into his brain, bringing him to full consciousness. The room was brighter than it should have been for early morning, and a glance at the clock revealed why.
It wasn't morning.
Don wondered why he'd overslept so much, but a quick look at the red hair spilling across his pillow brought the memories rushing back.
Party. Gunmen. Blood. Hospital.
They hadn't gotten back until almost morning, and decided that neither of them would be any good at work today. He remembered calling Megan from the ballroom the night before, explaining what had happened.
Rolling out of bed, Don pulled on a pair of loose sweats and went to answer the door, remembering to close the bedroom door behind him.
Scratching his chest and yawning, he felt his ribs pull as he opened the door to find his father and brother, both looking equal parts irritated and hurt.
“Dad? Charlie? What's going on?” he asked. He debated whether letting them in was a good idea; this really wasn’t the best way for Willow and his family to meet.
“We dropped by the FBI for lunch - like you asked -” his father said pointedly, “Only Megan said you were taking the day off.”
“Oh, right. Yeah. Lunch.” Don stepped back from the door in invitation, remembering his arranged lunch with his family. He'd been planning to tell them about Willow, but had forgotten after everything that had happened the night before.
“She said something about a robbery at some party last night?” said Charlie, curious and questioning.
“Some party with your girlfriend,” added his father.
“That's what I wanted to talk to you about today,” Don said, closing the door behind them.
“Oh?” said his father, sounding slightly sarcastic.
“Her name's Willow Rosenberg,” said Don, moving towards the open kitchen area to make some coffee. He figured he wasn't the only one who needed some caffeine right now. “We've been seeing each other for a little over a month.”
“And it took you this long to tell us?”
“She's not who I usually go for,” Don admitted slowly as he finished prepping the coffee maker, setting it to brew.
“Oh?” asked his father, suddenly more interested than irritated.
Don opened his mouth to try and explain, but was interrupted by a soft voice calling his name. Looking over, he saw a sleep rumpled Willow in the doorway to his bedroom, wearing one of his shirts.
God, she looked edible, Don thought. If his family wasn't right there...
He could have easily and cheerfully kicked Charlie out, but his dad was another matter entirely.
“Willow. Remember me telling you about my father and brother?” he called out, not the least surprised when she let out a strangled sound of horror, took a step back into the bedroom and slammed the door shut.
Don felt a smile break out across his face. Turning back to his father he said, “That was Willow.”
~!~
Alan barely caught a glimpse of a slim redhead before the door slammed shut. He did, however, catch a look at her face, wondering at the surprised/scared look he'd seen. He turned back to his oldest son, and frowned when he saw him smiling and silently laughing.
“Donny!” he reprimanded, though not too harshly. It had been awhile since he'd seen his son smile like that. Anyone who could bring that out in him, no matter the cause, earned a couple points in his book.
Don shook his head at a joke neither Alan nor Charlie was privy to, a small smile twisting the corner of his mouth. “She's a little nervous,” Don explained. “This wasn't how we had it planned.”
Alan wondered at the need for planning a meeting between girlfriend and family, but he also wondered why it had taken Don more than a month to tell them about said girlfriend in the first place.
“So, how did you two meet?” asked Charlie. Alan could tell he was trying to mediate between the two of them. However, as subject changes went it was a good one, because Alan wanted to know the answer as well.
“Met her at work, actually,” said Don, and Alan had a worrying thought that this Willow was yet another fellow FBI agent.
“Really? I don't - I don't remember anyone by that name.”
“She works part-time down in IRU,” explained Don.
“What's the IRU?” Again, Alan blessed Charlie for his inquisitive nature. Charlie being Charlie meant that Alan didn't have to ask, which would make it sound like he was interrogating his oldest son about his newest girlfriend. Which he was.
“Information Retrieval Unit?” said Don in a tone that meant Charlie should know.
“I don't think I've heard of them before - what do they do?”
Alan watched an indulgent smile spread across Don's face, “They're the ones that get you those reams of data for all your math stuff.”
Alan cast a quick look at his youngest son and felt his lips twitch at the look on his face.
“What, you thought Colby and David spend all their time digging up three blocks worth of real estate prices for you? Or those reams of banking data you always ask for? We’ve got an entire department to do that stuff, who do it better and faster.”
“Oh.” Charlie's voice sounded small and taken aback, like his equations had suddenly rearranged themselves on him.
“Look, the coffee's almost ready,” said Don, moving away from the kitchen. “Why don't you guys have a cup and relax for a bit. I need to shower and get dressed, then we can go get a late lunch.”
“'We'?” asked Alan, stepping forward. “I do hope you're planning to include Willow in all this.” So far, this woman sounded a little off-type for Don, though Alan didn't know if that was a good thing or not.
“I'll ask, but I'm not going to make--”
“Of course I'll be there.” Alan turned to the bedroom door and got his first real look at his son's new girlfriend. She was petite and slim, but definitely a redhead. She looked almost delicate, if you didn't take into account her expression. Her lips were pursed in annoyance, her eyes narrowed as she stared intently at Don. “Why wouldn't I be there?”
“I didn't want to assume,” replied Don. Alan watched their interaction with a curious eye, noticing something vaguely familiar about the look his son was getting.
“You thought I'd hide in the bedroom from your family?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her as her eyes narrowed even more.
Yes, Alan was very familiar with the look on her face. It was the same look he'd often received from Margaret over the years; the one that said 'you're an idiot'.
Alan tried desperately to keep the smile off his face.
So far, he was getting a good feeling about this girl.
He was interested to see how Don would deal with this, and wasn't the least surprised to see his son walk over and put an arm around her while he whispered something too low for him to hear. Whatever he'd said had done the trick, because her expression smoothed out as Don talked, until he dropped a small kiss on her pursed lips and she pushed him away with a playful shove, “You smell.”
Alan waited until the bedroom door closed behind Don before turning his full attention on Willow.
“So, Willow,” he said, only realizing afterwards how ominous that sounded. It didn't help that she turned wide, panicked eyes on him.
“Would you like some coffee?” she asked nervously, moving towards the pot that was nearly full.
“Why not?” said Alan, hoping a small smile would calm her down. This was a situation he hadn't been in before - one of his son's girlfriend scared to meet him. “Charlie?” he asked his other son, hoping for some support but not really expecting any. Charlie may be brilliant at math, but girls, not so much.
“Coffee? O-okay,” he said, sounding unsure of his answer.
Yeah. No help from that corner.
“So, Don said you work at the FBI?” Alan was trying his best to not sound like he was interrogating her.
“Uh-huh. Part-time in the basement.”
“Do you enjoy it? The work I mean,” Alan asked, watching as the coffee pot shook in her hand as she poured.
“For the most part,” she said with a shrug. “I do low-level stuff; pulling financial records, background checks and other data. It's interesting, more than anything. Gathering together bits of information from different sources to get a better picture of a person or situation. People think that if you change your name or move, then the past is behind you, but the information is always there. Everybody leaves a trace somewhere. Do you want anything in your coffee?”
Alan blinked at her for a moment, then said “Just black, thank you.” The way her hands were shaking, he didn't want to risk a sugar overload or anything. Charlie apparently picked up on the same thing, asking for black, though Alan knew he rarely took his coffee straight. Besides, recently Don always seemed to have the good coffee at his place and sullying it with sugar or milk seemed wrong.
Willow brought the mugs over to them, and Alan was hard pressed not to rush over and grab them from her. Her hands were shaking slightly, to the extent where some of the coffee splashed over the rim onto his hand.
“Don't worry about it,” he insisted as she started to apologize.
“I'm a little nervous,” she admitted as she wiped up the spilled liquid. Alan raised his eyebrows in query, hoping she would take the hint. “I've never met the family before.”
“I find that hard to believe,” he told her, suddenly wondering if she was younger than she looked and desperately hoping she wasn't. Willow was already on the young side in his mind, but he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.
“It's never really been an issue before,” she told him as she poured herself a glass of juice.
“Not having any coffee?” he asked.
“Ooh, I'm not allowed to have coffee,” she said, the small smile on her face letting him know she was more amused than offended.
“Oh? And who decided that?” he said, feeling something in his chest loosen at her smile.
“Milo - my best friend,” she explained. “He gave me a cup of coffee once and decided I was to be banned for life.”
“Jumpy?”
“Oh yeah,” she said, and Alan had to smile at her exaggerated nodding as they all sat down in Don's living room.
“Why part-time?” Alan was startled to hear Charlie's voice, as he'd been silent this entire time. “You said you worked at the FBI part-time. What do you do the rest of the time?”
“I do some contract work for Arctic Morgan.”
“The defense contractor?” asked Charlie, the name suddenly clicking in his memory.
“Mmhmm,” she nodded, sipping at her juice. “I'm a software developer for them, but I mostly work on small, outsourced projects....” Willow trailed off after that, and Alan wondered what had captured her attention as she gazed off into space for a moment.
“Sorry. I forgot that I was offered a permanent position with them recently,” she said by way of explanation. “I decided to accept it last night.”
Alan felt his brow raise, wondering how you could forget something like that. The same look must have been on Charlie's face too, because Willow's eyes flicked between the two of them before determinedly avoiding eye contact.
“Other things took priority,” she said by way of an explanation.
“The armed robbery?” he inquired, remembering why Don wasn’t at work today. She made a small sound of agreement as she took another sip of her juice.
“You're okay, I take it?” he asked gently.
“Oh yeah. Hunky dorey,” she said with a patently fake smile. Willow may be fine physically, but Alan bet that mentally and emotionally she was still in shock. Charlie had been the same way after his first close call, but Alan was willing to bet that Willow wouldn't deal with it in quite the same way. No chalkboards, for one.
“We can go to lunch some other time,” he offered, not wanting to put any more stress on her. As much as he wanted to get to know her more, Alan understood that this was probably not the best time.
“What? No!”
“What's going on?” asked Don from the doorway, his hair still wet from the shower.
“Nothing,” announced Willow, perking up. “Just let me brush my teeth.”
Once she was out of earshot, Alan turned to Don and tried not to look guilty. He had made a conversational misstep, and he didn't know how bad it was.
“Dad?”
“I may have brought up the trouble from last night,” he told Don with a wince, feeling even more guilty at the hard look that overcame Don's face.
“One of her co-workers was shot,” Don explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “Willow stood up to a roomful of armed assailants so she could provide first aid. Saved the woman's life.”
Alan could only blink in astonishment.
“Try to avoid mentioning it, if you can,” Don suggested. Alan nodded his agreement, understanding Willow’s behaviour a little better.
“So, lunch?” announced Willow as she returned, a big smile pushing away the bad memories and emotions that were still too close to the surface.
“There's an outdoor cafe a few blocks over that I've been dying to try,” said Alan, clapping his hands together as he plastered an eager look on his face.
Actually, the 'eager' part wasn't an act. He was starving.
End Part 14
Part 15
Author: lyl_devil
Rating: PG-15
Fandom: BtVS, Numb3rs
Pairing: Willow/Don
Beta: strangevisitor7 & kallie_kat
Words: ~38,500 (as of Jan 11, 2009)
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 14
A pounding on the door seeped its way into his brain, bringing him to full consciousness. The room was brighter than it should have been for early morning, and a glance at the clock revealed why.
It wasn't morning.
Don wondered why he'd overslept so much, but a quick look at the red hair spilling across his pillow brought the memories rushing back.
Party. Gunmen. Blood. Hospital.
They hadn't gotten back until almost morning, and decided that neither of them would be any good at work today. He remembered calling Megan from the ballroom the night before, explaining what had happened.
Rolling out of bed, Don pulled on a pair of loose sweats and went to answer the door, remembering to close the bedroom door behind him.
Scratching his chest and yawning, he felt his ribs pull as he opened the door to find his father and brother, both looking equal parts irritated and hurt.
“Dad? Charlie? What's going on?” he asked. He debated whether letting them in was a good idea; this really wasn’t the best way for Willow and his family to meet.
“We dropped by the FBI for lunch - like you asked -” his father said pointedly, “Only Megan said you were taking the day off.”
“Oh, right. Yeah. Lunch.” Don stepped back from the door in invitation, remembering his arranged lunch with his family. He'd been planning to tell them about Willow, but had forgotten after everything that had happened the night before.
“She said something about a robbery at some party last night?” said Charlie, curious and questioning.
“Some party with your girlfriend,” added his father.
“That's what I wanted to talk to you about today,” Don said, closing the door behind them.
“Oh?” said his father, sounding slightly sarcastic.
“Her name's Willow Rosenberg,” said Don, moving towards the open kitchen area to make some coffee. He figured he wasn't the only one who needed some caffeine right now. “We've been seeing each other for a little over a month.”
“And it took you this long to tell us?”
“She's not who I usually go for,” Don admitted slowly as he finished prepping the coffee maker, setting it to brew.
“Oh?” asked his father, suddenly more interested than irritated.
Don opened his mouth to try and explain, but was interrupted by a soft voice calling his name. Looking over, he saw a sleep rumpled Willow in the doorway to his bedroom, wearing one of his shirts.
God, she looked edible, Don thought. If his family wasn't right there...
He could have easily and cheerfully kicked Charlie out, but his dad was another matter entirely.
“Willow. Remember me telling you about my father and brother?” he called out, not the least surprised when she let out a strangled sound of horror, took a step back into the bedroom and slammed the door shut.
Don felt a smile break out across his face. Turning back to his father he said, “That was Willow.”
~!~
Alan barely caught a glimpse of a slim redhead before the door slammed shut. He did, however, catch a look at her face, wondering at the surprised/scared look he'd seen. He turned back to his oldest son, and frowned when he saw him smiling and silently laughing.
“Donny!” he reprimanded, though not too harshly. It had been awhile since he'd seen his son smile like that. Anyone who could bring that out in him, no matter the cause, earned a couple points in his book.
Don shook his head at a joke neither Alan nor Charlie was privy to, a small smile twisting the corner of his mouth. “She's a little nervous,” Don explained. “This wasn't how we had it planned.”
Alan wondered at the need for planning a meeting between girlfriend and family, but he also wondered why it had taken Don more than a month to tell them about said girlfriend in the first place.
“So, how did you two meet?” asked Charlie. Alan could tell he was trying to mediate between the two of them. However, as subject changes went it was a good one, because Alan wanted to know the answer as well.
“Met her at work, actually,” said Don, and Alan had a worrying thought that this Willow was yet another fellow FBI agent.
“Really? I don't - I don't remember anyone by that name.”
“She works part-time down in IRU,” explained Don.
“What's the IRU?” Again, Alan blessed Charlie for his inquisitive nature. Charlie being Charlie meant that Alan didn't have to ask, which would make it sound like he was interrogating his oldest son about his newest girlfriend. Which he was.
“Information Retrieval Unit?” said Don in a tone that meant Charlie should know.
“I don't think I've heard of them before - what do they do?”
Alan watched an indulgent smile spread across Don's face, “They're the ones that get you those reams of data for all your math stuff.”
Alan cast a quick look at his youngest son and felt his lips twitch at the look on his face.
“What, you thought Colby and David spend all their time digging up three blocks worth of real estate prices for you? Or those reams of banking data you always ask for? We’ve got an entire department to do that stuff, who do it better and faster.”
“Oh.” Charlie's voice sounded small and taken aback, like his equations had suddenly rearranged themselves on him.
“Look, the coffee's almost ready,” said Don, moving away from the kitchen. “Why don't you guys have a cup and relax for a bit. I need to shower and get dressed, then we can go get a late lunch.”
“'We'?” asked Alan, stepping forward. “I do hope you're planning to include Willow in all this.” So far, this woman sounded a little off-type for Don, though Alan didn't know if that was a good thing or not.
“I'll ask, but I'm not going to make--”
“Of course I'll be there.” Alan turned to the bedroom door and got his first real look at his son's new girlfriend. She was petite and slim, but definitely a redhead. She looked almost delicate, if you didn't take into account her expression. Her lips were pursed in annoyance, her eyes narrowed as she stared intently at Don. “Why wouldn't I be there?”
“I didn't want to assume,” replied Don. Alan watched their interaction with a curious eye, noticing something vaguely familiar about the look his son was getting.
“You thought I'd hide in the bedroom from your family?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her as her eyes narrowed even more.
Yes, Alan was very familiar with the look on her face. It was the same look he'd often received from Margaret over the years; the one that said 'you're an idiot'.
Alan tried desperately to keep the smile off his face.
So far, he was getting a good feeling about this girl.
He was interested to see how Don would deal with this, and wasn't the least surprised to see his son walk over and put an arm around her while he whispered something too low for him to hear. Whatever he'd said had done the trick, because her expression smoothed out as Don talked, until he dropped a small kiss on her pursed lips and she pushed him away with a playful shove, “You smell.”
Alan waited until the bedroom door closed behind Don before turning his full attention on Willow.
“So, Willow,” he said, only realizing afterwards how ominous that sounded. It didn't help that she turned wide, panicked eyes on him.
“Would you like some coffee?” she asked nervously, moving towards the pot that was nearly full.
“Why not?” said Alan, hoping a small smile would calm her down. This was a situation he hadn't been in before - one of his son's girlfriend scared to meet him. “Charlie?” he asked his other son, hoping for some support but not really expecting any. Charlie may be brilliant at math, but girls, not so much.
“Coffee? O-okay,” he said, sounding unsure of his answer.
Yeah. No help from that corner.
“So, Don said you work at the FBI?” Alan was trying his best to not sound like he was interrogating her.
“Uh-huh. Part-time in the basement.”
“Do you enjoy it? The work I mean,” Alan asked, watching as the coffee pot shook in her hand as she poured.
“For the most part,” she said with a shrug. “I do low-level stuff; pulling financial records, background checks and other data. It's interesting, more than anything. Gathering together bits of information from different sources to get a better picture of a person or situation. People think that if you change your name or move, then the past is behind you, but the information is always there. Everybody leaves a trace somewhere. Do you want anything in your coffee?”
Alan blinked at her for a moment, then said “Just black, thank you.” The way her hands were shaking, he didn't want to risk a sugar overload or anything. Charlie apparently picked up on the same thing, asking for black, though Alan knew he rarely took his coffee straight. Besides, recently Don always seemed to have the good coffee at his place and sullying it with sugar or milk seemed wrong.
Willow brought the mugs over to them, and Alan was hard pressed not to rush over and grab them from her. Her hands were shaking slightly, to the extent where some of the coffee splashed over the rim onto his hand.
“Don't worry about it,” he insisted as she started to apologize.
“I'm a little nervous,” she admitted as she wiped up the spilled liquid. Alan raised his eyebrows in query, hoping she would take the hint. “I've never met the family before.”
“I find that hard to believe,” he told her, suddenly wondering if she was younger than she looked and desperately hoping she wasn't. Willow was already on the young side in his mind, but he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.
“It's never really been an issue before,” she told him as she poured herself a glass of juice.
“Not having any coffee?” he asked.
“Ooh, I'm not allowed to have coffee,” she said, the small smile on her face letting him know she was more amused than offended.
“Oh? And who decided that?” he said, feeling something in his chest loosen at her smile.
“Milo - my best friend,” she explained. “He gave me a cup of coffee once and decided I was to be banned for life.”
“Jumpy?”
“Oh yeah,” she said, and Alan had to smile at her exaggerated nodding as they all sat down in Don's living room.
“Why part-time?” Alan was startled to hear Charlie's voice, as he'd been silent this entire time. “You said you worked at the FBI part-time. What do you do the rest of the time?”
“I do some contract work for Arctic Morgan.”
“The defense contractor?” asked Charlie, the name suddenly clicking in his memory.
“Mmhmm,” she nodded, sipping at her juice. “I'm a software developer for them, but I mostly work on small, outsourced projects....” Willow trailed off after that, and Alan wondered what had captured her attention as she gazed off into space for a moment.
“Sorry. I forgot that I was offered a permanent position with them recently,” she said by way of explanation. “I decided to accept it last night.”
Alan felt his brow raise, wondering how you could forget something like that. The same look must have been on Charlie's face too, because Willow's eyes flicked between the two of them before determinedly avoiding eye contact.
“Other things took priority,” she said by way of an explanation.
“The armed robbery?” he inquired, remembering why Don wasn’t at work today. She made a small sound of agreement as she took another sip of her juice.
“You're okay, I take it?” he asked gently.
“Oh yeah. Hunky dorey,” she said with a patently fake smile. Willow may be fine physically, but Alan bet that mentally and emotionally she was still in shock. Charlie had been the same way after his first close call, but Alan was willing to bet that Willow wouldn't deal with it in quite the same way. No chalkboards, for one.
“We can go to lunch some other time,” he offered, not wanting to put any more stress on her. As much as he wanted to get to know her more, Alan understood that this was probably not the best time.
“What? No!”
“What's going on?” asked Don from the doorway, his hair still wet from the shower.
“Nothing,” announced Willow, perking up. “Just let me brush my teeth.”
Once she was out of earshot, Alan turned to Don and tried not to look guilty. He had made a conversational misstep, and he didn't know how bad it was.
“Dad?”
“I may have brought up the trouble from last night,” he told Don with a wince, feeling even more guilty at the hard look that overcame Don's face.
“One of her co-workers was shot,” Don explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “Willow stood up to a roomful of armed assailants so she could provide first aid. Saved the woman's life.”
Alan could only blink in astonishment.
“Try to avoid mentioning it, if you can,” Don suggested. Alan nodded his agreement, understanding Willow’s behaviour a little better.
“So, lunch?” announced Willow as she returned, a big smile pushing away the bad memories and emotions that were still too close to the surface.
“There's an outdoor cafe a few blocks over that I've been dying to try,” said Alan, clapping his hands together as he plastered an eager look on his face.
Actually, the 'eager' part wasn't an act. He was starving.
End Part 14
Part 15