March Fic Challenge
Title of Fic: Whatever It Takes
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Heh. That would be telling.
Brief Plot Summary: Set the night after FTX
Okay, so I wrote this very quickly tonight and it is still very rough and in need of work....
Michelle Brubaker was about the last person John Grant expected to find at his door late at night, but he invited her in nonetheless. "Is everything okay?" he asked her. "Nate's all right, isn't he?"
"He's fine," she said. "Well, except for that hole in his side. He's at home resting."
"What are you here for, then?" he said. "Uh, sit down, can I get you a drink?"
She nodded. "Yes, please. Whatever you're having."
He poured her some of the scotch he'd been drinking, handing her the glass as he picked up his own and refilled it. Sitting on the couch next to her, he asked, "What's going on?"
"I want you to convince Nathan to leave the VCTF," she said, sipping her drink.
"Michelle, you know I can't do that," he said, shaking his head. "This job is Nate's life. I'm not going to talk him into doing something he doesn't want to do. You two need to work that out yourselves."
"I can't keep doing this," she said. "Every time the phone rings I think it's someone calling to tell me he's dead. This job is going to kill him! It almost did today, didn't it?" She looked at John accusingly.
He shifted uncomfortably. "He's going to be fine."
Slamming her drink down on the coffee table, she rose and started pacing. "Jesus, John, it's almost killed you! More than once! At least you don't have a family waiting for you, but he does!" He didn't say anything, but the hurt her words inflicted must have been evident on his face. Her hand flew up to her mouth. "I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean it like that."
He shrugged and took a long swallow of his drink. "It's okay."
A tear rolled down her cheek. "It's not okay. I can't keep wondering every time I see him if it's going to be the last time. I can't keep having the nightmares that this Jack or some other psycho is going to kill him."
The display of emotion was unusual for her, John knew. Nathan had told him of fights he and Michelle had had, but in public, she always kept a cool demeanor, keeping her feelings locked down. He sometimes wondered what Nathan saw in her. Sure, she was beautiful, but sometimes she seemed so cold.
She was crying openly now, her breath coming in short gasps. He stood up and walked over to her, putting his arms around her. She pressed her face against his chest, shuddering.
He hadn't had a lot to drink, but enough so that his reflexes were slowed, so it took his brain a moment to register what was happening when she seized his face in her hands and started kissing him. "Michelle, what the hell are you doing?" he said, pulling away from her.
"I...I'm sorry," she stammered. "I just need someone tonight. I feel so alone and scared and empty."
"Why don't you go talk to your husband?" he said, stressing the last word.
She shook her head. "We're divorcing, John. Didn't he tell you that? I'm not going to play with his heart...not now."
"But you'll play with my head," he said, taking a step back.
She followed, pressing herself into his arms again. "I just want to feel desired. Please, John, just hold me."
His resolve began to falter as she kissed him again. He'd always found Michelle attractive, but like an untouchable ice goddess, and now here she was in his arms, begging for him. He wasn't sure how they ended up back on the couch, Michelle beneath him, her skirt hiked up around her waist, raking her nails down his back as she cried his name. But when they were done, he sat up, his face in his hands. "Oh, god," he groaned, unable to believe what he had just done. He'd slept with his best friend's wife. He couldn't sink much lower than that.
Michelle stood up, pulling down her skirt and buttoning her blouse. She found her jacket on the floor and pulled it on, smoothing the fabric, then running her hands over her hair to make sure it was place. She looked down at John. "Tomorrow," she said coolly, "you're going to convince Nate to leave the VCTF."
He looked up at her, confused. "What?"
"You're going to convince him to leave the VCTF," she repeated. "Or I'm going to tell him what happened here."
Sudden realization struck him. "You set me up," he said. "You planned this."
Her smile was thin and cold. "Yes. Nate will listen to you. He respects you. You can convince him to give up this job. And if you don't, I tell him about tonight. Either way, I win, because he'll leave the VCTF because he won't be able to stand looking at you."
"Or you," he said angrily.
"Perhaps," she said. "But remember, John, I'm a lawyer. It's my job to make people believe what I want them to believe. I assure you, he will blame you for this more than he blames me. So you have a choice. Lose Nate's friendship forever -- and, most likely, the respect of your colleagues as well -- or keep your friend and let him safe and alive with me. What's it going to be?"
Defeated, he sank back on the couch. "I'll talk to him in the morning."
"Good," she said. She picked up her briefcase and headed for the door. Her hand on the knob, she paused. "This is for his own good, John. I love him, and I'll do whatever it takes to protect him."
"Funny way of showing it," he snarled at her.
"I told you," she said, "whatever it takes." Then she was gone, leaving John alone to contemplate what he had done and what he had to do next.
Brought to you by my inability to believe a character played by Gina Torres isn't eeeeeevil.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Heh. That would be telling.
Brief Plot Summary: Set the night after FTX
Okay, so I wrote this very quickly tonight and it is still very rough and in need of work....
Michelle Brubaker was about the last person John Grant expected to find at his door late at night, but he invited her in nonetheless. "Is everything okay?" he asked her. "Nate's all right, isn't he?"
"He's fine," she said. "Well, except for that hole in his side. He's at home resting."
"What are you here for, then?" he said. "Uh, sit down, can I get you a drink?"
She nodded. "Yes, please. Whatever you're having."
He poured her some of the scotch he'd been drinking, handing her the glass as he picked up his own and refilled it. Sitting on the couch next to her, he asked, "What's going on?"
"I want you to convince Nathan to leave the VCTF," she said, sipping her drink.
"Michelle, you know I can't do that," he said, shaking his head. "This job is Nate's life. I'm not going to talk him into doing something he doesn't want to do. You two need to work that out yourselves."
"I can't keep doing this," she said. "Every time the phone rings I think it's someone calling to tell me he's dead. This job is going to kill him! It almost did today, didn't it?" She looked at John accusingly.
He shifted uncomfortably. "He's going to be fine."
Slamming her drink down on the coffee table, she rose and started pacing. "Jesus, John, it's almost killed you! More than once! At least you don't have a family waiting for you, but he does!" He didn't say anything, but the hurt her words inflicted must have been evident on his face. Her hand flew up to her mouth. "I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean it like that."
He shrugged and took a long swallow of his drink. "It's okay."
A tear rolled down her cheek. "It's not okay. I can't keep wondering every time I see him if it's going to be the last time. I can't keep having the nightmares that this Jack or some other psycho is going to kill him."
The display of emotion was unusual for her, John knew. Nathan had told him of fights he and Michelle had had, but in public, she always kept a cool demeanor, keeping her feelings locked down. He sometimes wondered what Nathan saw in her. Sure, she was beautiful, but sometimes she seemed so cold.
She was crying openly now, her breath coming in short gasps. He stood up and walked over to her, putting his arms around her. She pressed her face against his chest, shuddering.
He hadn't had a lot to drink, but enough so that his reflexes were slowed, so it took his brain a moment to register what was happening when she seized his face in her hands and started kissing him. "Michelle, what the hell are you doing?" he said, pulling away from her.
"I...I'm sorry," she stammered. "I just need someone tonight. I feel so alone and scared and empty."
"Why don't you go talk to your husband?" he said, stressing the last word.
She shook her head. "We're divorcing, John. Didn't he tell you that? I'm not going to play with his heart...not now."
"But you'll play with my head," he said, taking a step back.
She followed, pressing herself into his arms again. "I just want to feel desired. Please, John, just hold me."
His resolve began to falter as she kissed him again. He'd always found Michelle attractive, but like an untouchable ice goddess, and now here she was in his arms, begging for him. He wasn't sure how they ended up back on the couch, Michelle beneath him, her skirt hiked up around her waist, raking her nails down his back as she cried his name. But when they were done, he sat up, his face in his hands. "Oh, god," he groaned, unable to believe what he had just done. He'd slept with his best friend's wife. He couldn't sink much lower than that.
Michelle stood up, pulling down her skirt and buttoning her blouse. She found her jacket on the floor and pulled it on, smoothing the fabric, then running her hands over her hair to make sure it was place. She looked down at John. "Tomorrow," she said coolly, "you're going to convince Nate to leave the VCTF."
He looked up at her, confused. "What?"
"You're going to convince him to leave the VCTF," she repeated. "Or I'm going to tell him what happened here."
Sudden realization struck him. "You set me up," he said. "You planned this."
Her smile was thin and cold. "Yes. Nate will listen to you. He respects you. You can convince him to give up this job. And if you don't, I tell him about tonight. Either way, I win, because he'll leave the VCTF because he won't be able to stand looking at you."
"Or you," he said angrily.
"Perhaps," she said. "But remember, John, I'm a lawyer. It's my job to make people believe what I want them to believe. I assure you, he will blame you for this more than he blames me. So you have a choice. Lose Nate's friendship forever -- and, most likely, the respect of your colleagues as well -- or keep your friend and let him safe and alive with me. What's it going to be?"
Defeated, he sank back on the couch. "I'll talk to him in the morning."
"Good," she said. She picked up her briefcase and headed for the door. Her hand on the knob, she paused. "This is for his own good, John. I love him, and I'll do whatever it takes to protect him."
"Funny way of showing it," he snarled at her.
"I told you," she said, "whatever it takes." Then she was gone, leaving John alone to contemplate what he had done and what he had to do next.
Brought to you by my inability to believe a character played by Gina Torres isn't eeeeeevil.