Miracles/Jake 2.0 crossover - PG
Another one for the crossover pile. Not the characters I thought I'd write about meeting, but this idea just seemed to work.
If someone who's actually been in this airport (or any airport, ever) catches me out on any random unlikeliness-es, let me know, won't you?
Set: early Jake/late Miracles
"So you have a bullet in your brain? Wow, that's - lucky, I guess. That you're not dead, I mean. Not lucky that you, you know, have a bullet in your brain."
Evelyn Santos turned at the voice, then had to resist a laugh when she saw the too-earnest face of the speaker. One of the black-suited NSA agents had been pulled out of the anonymous crowd of the same. Now, he stood with her waiting by the metal detectors while airport security and local law enforcement sorted out their paperwork. He was younger than the rest, tall and gangling, and made less generic by his haircut and expression. "I know what you meant," she told him kindly, since he seemed unduly nervous - whether about the security or about talking to her, she wasn't sure.
"And you have--?" she tried after a moment, eying the rather smoother and obviously more senior NSA agent whose argument with airport security on the other side of the barrier was punctuated by frequent gestures at her companion. Further down, the police were still clearing out the public and trying to quash the panic.
He gave her a huge, awkward grin. "I don't have a bullet. I - have a medical condition. Those things, they kinda mess with me. I guess I must send them crazy right back, but I never actually saw it first-hand, 'cause... well, usually being picked up off the floor at that point."
Evelyn nodded. She thought she'd maybe heard of something like that once. Although even if she had, it didn't explain her inescapable impression that the NSA agent was lying.
"So, you?" he prompted. "CIA? FBI?"
"Police," she said with a smile. "Once upon a time, anyway. Hence the bullet. But today I'm here as part of a team that investigates... unusual sorts of phenomena." She caught sight of Alva's impatient hand signalling and illegible mouthed hurry-up across the commotion, and raised a hand in helpless acknowledgement.
Next to Alva, Paul was staring around with intensity, like he'd never seen an airport before. She wondered if an airport was all he was seeing now.
"You mean, say, phenomena like sixty-year-old bombers flying into Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport to execute perfect landings without a living soul on board? And that's what you do?" The NSA agent then spouted a line she'd personally never, ever expected to hear from the National Security Agency, "That is so cool!" He peered at Alva and Paul, and grinningly asked her, "Which one's Mulder?"
She frowned. "I think they both are."
He climbed down a bit from his giddy high. "You must have seen some pretty interesting stuff."
"On occasion. My partners are the experts in the field - I suppose you could say I'm the investigative muscle." She looked him up and down and thought that it could be no bad thing to have a contact in the NSA. She extended her hand. "Evelyn Santos."
"Jake Foley..." He took her hand only briefly - which was a relief, because he had an oblivious bone-crusher of a handshake - before diving into his inside jacket pocket for a badge he didn't need to show her. "NSA?" His grin faded as he seemed to realise how ridiculous he looked, and he hurriedly stuffed the badge away. Straightening himself out in an attempt to reclaim dignity, he said, "I - I'm sorry. This is all still very new to me."
She would never have guessed... but she kept the nugget of sarcasm to herself. It was something of a revelation to her that rookie NSA agents existed. She had always subconsciously assumed, she supposed, that they sprang full-fledged complete with suit, gun, and stony expression from a cloning lab in the National Security Agency's basement. Nothing about this guy had been grown in a lab, that was for sure.
Agent Foley was being waved over to the barrier by his supervisor. He shot her an apologetic glance before diverting his attention. She noticed that he really was very careful to stay well clear of the metal detectors. She wasn't quite sure how he could hear his supervisor above the background noise, given the distance he kept, but he must have done. He returned to her a bit subdued.
"Hey. Well, security won't switch off the metal detectors, so I have to go around--" He made a sweeping motion with both hands that went nowhere. "--So I will see you later, Ms Santos. Evelyn. Maybe. Hopefully."
She caught the weary roll of his eyes as he slouched off. Sketched a wave to him as, halfway to the exit with two airport security men marching formation at his side, he looked back.
Still got one more crossover concept to come up with. I'd totally do The West Wing, except Warner name-drops Condoleeza Rice a couple of times on the show. *curses* So still open to ideas.
If someone who's actually been in this airport (or any airport, ever) catches me out on any random unlikeliness-es, let me know, won't you?
Set: early Jake/late Miracles
"So you have a bullet in your brain? Wow, that's - lucky, I guess. That you're not dead, I mean. Not lucky that you, you know, have a bullet in your brain."
Evelyn Santos turned at the voice, then had to resist a laugh when she saw the too-earnest face of the speaker. One of the black-suited NSA agents had been pulled out of the anonymous crowd of the same. Now, he stood with her waiting by the metal detectors while airport security and local law enforcement sorted out their paperwork. He was younger than the rest, tall and gangling, and made less generic by his haircut and expression. "I know what you meant," she told him kindly, since he seemed unduly nervous - whether about the security or about talking to her, she wasn't sure.
"And you have--?" she tried after a moment, eying the rather smoother and obviously more senior NSA agent whose argument with airport security on the other side of the barrier was punctuated by frequent gestures at her companion. Further down, the police were still clearing out the public and trying to quash the panic.
He gave her a huge, awkward grin. "I don't have a bullet. I - have a medical condition. Those things, they kinda mess with me. I guess I must send them crazy right back, but I never actually saw it first-hand, 'cause... well, usually being picked up off the floor at that point."
Evelyn nodded. She thought she'd maybe heard of something like that once. Although even if she had, it didn't explain her inescapable impression that the NSA agent was lying.
"So, you?" he prompted. "CIA? FBI?"
"Police," she said with a smile. "Once upon a time, anyway. Hence the bullet. But today I'm here as part of a team that investigates... unusual sorts of phenomena." She caught sight of Alva's impatient hand signalling and illegible mouthed hurry-up across the commotion, and raised a hand in helpless acknowledgement.
Next to Alva, Paul was staring around with intensity, like he'd never seen an airport before. She wondered if an airport was all he was seeing now.
"You mean, say, phenomena like sixty-year-old bombers flying into Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport to execute perfect landings without a living soul on board? And that's what you do?" The NSA agent then spouted a line she'd personally never, ever expected to hear from the National Security Agency, "That is so cool!" He peered at Alva and Paul, and grinningly asked her, "Which one's Mulder?"
She frowned. "I think they both are."
He climbed down a bit from his giddy high. "You must have seen some pretty interesting stuff."
"On occasion. My partners are the experts in the field - I suppose you could say I'm the investigative muscle." She looked him up and down and thought that it could be no bad thing to have a contact in the NSA. She extended her hand. "Evelyn Santos."
"Jake Foley..." He took her hand only briefly - which was a relief, because he had an oblivious bone-crusher of a handshake - before diving into his inside jacket pocket for a badge he didn't need to show her. "NSA?" His grin faded as he seemed to realise how ridiculous he looked, and he hurriedly stuffed the badge away. Straightening himself out in an attempt to reclaim dignity, he said, "I - I'm sorry. This is all still very new to me."
She would never have guessed... but she kept the nugget of sarcasm to herself. It was something of a revelation to her that rookie NSA agents existed. She had always subconsciously assumed, she supposed, that they sprang full-fledged complete with suit, gun, and stony expression from a cloning lab in the National Security Agency's basement. Nothing about this guy had been grown in a lab, that was for sure.
Agent Foley was being waved over to the barrier by his supervisor. He shot her an apologetic glance before diverting his attention. She noticed that he really was very careful to stay well clear of the metal detectors. She wasn't quite sure how he could hear his supervisor above the background noise, given the distance he kept, but he must have done. He returned to her a bit subdued.
"Hey. Well, security won't switch off the metal detectors, so I have to go around--" He made a sweeping motion with both hands that went nowhere. "--So I will see you later, Ms Santos. Evelyn. Maybe. Hopefully."
She caught the weary roll of his eyes as he slouched off. Sketched a wave to him as, halfway to the exit with two airport security men marching formation at his side, he looked back.
Still got one more crossover concept to come up with. I'd totally do The West Wing, except Warner name-drops Condoleeza Rice a couple of times on the show. *curses* So still open to ideas.