Orange Blossom Queen - BtVS - PG - Kate Lockley
Title: Orange Blossom Queen
Author: Vesica
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1, 816
Still_grrr Prompt: 064 - Faith, Kate, Zoe
Characters: Kate
A/N: Sort of surprised I ended up writing Kate for this…Even more surprised at where Kate wanted to go with this.
As soon as the doors slid open, the humidity hit her like a wet washcloth to the face - which meant it was a normal spring day in Bartow, Florida. Kate could already feel her hair sticking to back of her neck and her suit was felt as heavy as a parka in the sweltering heat. I should have just worn a sundress. Sure, I'd have frozen in the air conditioning, but it's not like this little dog and pony show took that long.
She'd feel better once she got some air moving around her. She shucked the jacket once she got to the car and dropped the top on her Sebring, a happy sigh escaping her at the man-made breeze as she pulled out of the lot. It wasn't a particularly exciting drive back to Frostproof but it was a pretty drive.
Polk County was sleepy farm country, Bartow being the county seat, and a far cry from L.A. Two years ago, she'd slept off the last of the sleeping pills and woken up, really woken up for the first time in a long time, and taken stock of her life. She'd stayed in L.A. for her father, for her work, but never because she loved the city. Without both of her anchors torn out from beneath her and her pride still stinging from her white-knight rescue, she'd looked around her condo and realized she hated it all.
She hated the dingy beige linoleum in the kitchen and the way the first morning sun always hit her right in the face. She hated the tiny master bedroom closet and the fact the elevator broke once a month, leaving her to climb five flights of stairs. More than that, she hated L.A. - hated the dirt and the noise and darkness.
She hated the darkness most of all. One week, she'd thought the worst thing that came out at night were drug dealers, street gangs, and hookers with heartbreakingly empty stares.
And then - it all changed.
You'd think I'd be happier knowing the truth, but no…sometimes ignorance really is bliss. If she'd had any idea the price of the truth, she'd have taken one look at Angel and run. She'd lost everything - her father, her job, her confidence, and the thing that hurt most, her innocence. Even now, the thought that she'd had any innocence left after seven years of working her way up to detective made her laugh.
Still chuckling, she twisted the wheel and turned onto the first of many back roads. It wasn't the quickest way home, but she'd found a path that wove through the orange groves. It was the orange groves and gently rolling hills of this part of Florida that had seduced her. There was no other word for it.
After her little epiphany, she'd decided a vacation was in order, her first in four years. She wasn't sure why she'd decided on Orlando, but something about the overly cheery Disney commercials with their beaming families held a perverse fascination. For the first few days, she'd been a typical tourist - at the parks when they opened and wearily trudging to her rental only when the gates closed.
Then one morning, she just couldn't face the crowds and acres of concrete. The hotel had a few brochures for things outside of Orlando - the Citrus Tower and Bok Tower Gardens being foremost among the offerings. She'd gotten turned around at one point out in the wilds of the countryside, but even after she realized she was heading south, away from Orlando, she'd just kept going. It was late spring and when she'd stopped for gas, the air was thick with the smell of orange blossoms.
It was dumb luck that she saw a sign for an open house. Without really knowing why, she'd followed a breadcrumb trail of arrow-shaped signs away from the main road and into the groves. The house was nothing incredible - a smaller house in the old Florida style - but it was surrounded by groves on three sides. She'd skirted the path leading to the front door and walked into the groves instead, drinking in the pervasive but still delicate sweetness of the blooms.
She was bent over, pushing aside the glossy green leaves of one tree to peek at the tiny, hard buds that would swell into oranges, when a soft voice startled her.
"Be a while before those are good for much of anything, but they'll get there." A tall man with an almost handsome, if somewhat sun-weathered, face stood, arms crossed over his faded blue polo shirt, calmly watching her. He gestured at her hair and nodded, tiny smile playing on his lips. "I like that. Looks good on you."
She'd reached up, flustered, and her hurried fingers knocked the orange blossom she didn't remember tucking into her hair loose. He'd retrieved it with a laugh, reaching up to tuck it behind her ear. "Just as pretty as the Orange Blossom Queen."
"The what?"
"The who - Orange Blossom Queen - crowned every year at the Citrus Festival. Lucky for this year's winner you got here two weeks too late."
His casual familiarity bothered her and she hurried to find words to fill the silence. "I'm sorry. Am I trespassing? I mean, is this your grove?"
"Nah, this is a Ben Hill Grove. I just keep an eye on it."
"So, you're an orange grower?"
He'd smiled. "As much as any of us around here are anymore. Big companies hold the deeds, but we work the groves and sell the crop back to them. Tough going for individual growers these days, though joining up with the big boys isnt' much easier. Sort of tough way to make a living, but I like it."
"Oh." She was still trying to process his nutshell summary of the way of the world around these parts, but he pressed on.
"More importantly, I'm also a realtor." He held out his hand. "I'm Tim. I assume you came about the house? Wasn't really expecting anyone to come out today. Hoping - but not expecting."
Two hours later, she'd gotten back into her rental, his card in her pocket and a packet of papers constituting her initial bid on the house.
After that, things had just fallen into place - the move, settling into the house, and even getting a job. Most of the cities in Polk County were too small to have their own police force, making do with a local office of the county sheriff. She lasted three weeks rattling around in her new house before she started to feel a little stir crazy. On a whim, she'd stopped by the Frostproof office and asked if they were hiring. She missed being part of something, missed doing something important.
The sheriff looked like he came straight out of the screen from an episode of Dukes of Hazzard, a big guy with an even bigger gut and a drawl like warm honey. He didn't much care why she'd left L.A. and assumed she'd gotten burned out on the constant parade of crimes in a big city like that. She didn't bother to correct him and provided the only reference she could think of that might speak well of her, a friend of her dad's. He must have made her out to be some cross between Wonder Woman, Jessica Fletcher, and Cagney and Lacey because she had an offer, with a hefty signing bonus, within a week.
It was a different pace than she was used to and in such small offices, the deputy sheriffs all did a little of everything. In her first month, she'd tracked down cattle rustlers (after her partner managed to convince her there were still cattle rustlers), broken up three bar fights and investigated a possible meth lab explosion. In her two years here, there had only been two murders. And even that was two too many…
She pulled into her driveway, pausing to put the top up before pulling into the carport.
She grabbed her jacket and grabbed the plaque underneath.
Deputy Kate Lockley
In Recognition of her Outstanding Heroism and Dedication to Her Community
Heroism - yeah right. Her first year was a bad one for hurricanes, three storms ripping through the heart of Florida in two months. During the third storm, she and two other deputies had gotten the call that the roof had failed at a local shelter. Battling howling wind and pea-sized hail, they'd gotten everyone safely moved to a nearby church before the wind won the battle and one of the walls of the school collapsed.
It was funny - at the time she hadn't been scared at all, just focused on the task at hand. After everyone was moved and they were doing a second headcount - just to check - the nausea had hit. She ran for the bathroom, falling to her knees and retching until she was sure nothing was left in her.
Heroism was facing your fears.
With a shake of her head, she wedged the plaque between two thick tomes on her bookshelf.
She padded down the hall to her bedroom, the easy happiness of a long drive on a beautiful Florida day gone. Slipping out of her suit, she caught a glint of silver in the mirror on her dresser.
Her fingers closed around the cold metal resting against her chest.
She never took off the silver cross. She wore it beneath her uniform, slept in it, showered in it.
With a scowl, she turned her back on the mirror.
No, she was no hero. She'd run as far from L.A. as she could get without falling into the ocean but…even though the only thing that stalked the nights here were bobcats and tiny Florida deer, drawn to the tender plants in her flowerbed…even though she'd never seen so much as a hint of anything supernatural around these parts…she was still scared.
Some hero.
She slipped into a pair of jeans and well worn t-shirt, turning on every light as she made her way to the kitchen, though it was barely dusk outside.
Tim would be home in two hours.
Tim - orange grower, realtor, former next door neighbor (though the words still felt odd on her tongue when 'next door' was a mile and half up the road) and all-around decent guy.
Tim the live-in boyfriend, the one who didn't ask too many questions, and had learned how to stroke her back when she woke up crying, barely waking up himself as he tried to gentle away her fears.
Tim who never looked up at the full moon with a worried frown, who laughed at the wiccan wanna-bes who frequented a camp up the road, and who never wondered what might be watching him from the shadows.
Such innocence was a kind of heroism too, she thought.
The kind she wished she still had.
END.
Author: Vesica
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1, 816
Still_grrr Prompt: 064 - Faith, Kate, Zoe
Characters: Kate
A/N: Sort of surprised I ended up writing Kate for this…Even more surprised at where Kate wanted to go with this.
As soon as the doors slid open, the humidity hit her like a wet washcloth to the face - which meant it was a normal spring day in Bartow, Florida. Kate could already feel her hair sticking to back of her neck and her suit was felt as heavy as a parka in the sweltering heat. I should have just worn a sundress. Sure, I'd have frozen in the air conditioning, but it's not like this little dog and pony show took that long.
She'd feel better once she got some air moving around her. She shucked the jacket once she got to the car and dropped the top on her Sebring, a happy sigh escaping her at the man-made breeze as she pulled out of the lot. It wasn't a particularly exciting drive back to Frostproof but it was a pretty drive.
Polk County was sleepy farm country, Bartow being the county seat, and a far cry from L.A. Two years ago, she'd slept off the last of the sleeping pills and woken up, really woken up for the first time in a long time, and taken stock of her life. She'd stayed in L.A. for her father, for her work, but never because she loved the city. Without both of her anchors torn out from beneath her and her pride still stinging from her white-knight rescue, she'd looked around her condo and realized she hated it all.
She hated the dingy beige linoleum in the kitchen and the way the first morning sun always hit her right in the face. She hated the tiny master bedroom closet and the fact the elevator broke once a month, leaving her to climb five flights of stairs. More than that, she hated L.A. - hated the dirt and the noise and darkness.
She hated the darkness most of all. One week, she'd thought the worst thing that came out at night were drug dealers, street gangs, and hookers with heartbreakingly empty stares.
And then - it all changed.
You'd think I'd be happier knowing the truth, but no…sometimes ignorance really is bliss. If she'd had any idea the price of the truth, she'd have taken one look at Angel and run. She'd lost everything - her father, her job, her confidence, and the thing that hurt most, her innocence. Even now, the thought that she'd had any innocence left after seven years of working her way up to detective made her laugh.
Still chuckling, she twisted the wheel and turned onto the first of many back roads. It wasn't the quickest way home, but she'd found a path that wove through the orange groves. It was the orange groves and gently rolling hills of this part of Florida that had seduced her. There was no other word for it.
After her little epiphany, she'd decided a vacation was in order, her first in four years. She wasn't sure why she'd decided on Orlando, but something about the overly cheery Disney commercials with their beaming families held a perverse fascination. For the first few days, she'd been a typical tourist - at the parks when they opened and wearily trudging to her rental only when the gates closed.
Then one morning, she just couldn't face the crowds and acres of concrete. The hotel had a few brochures for things outside of Orlando - the Citrus Tower and Bok Tower Gardens being foremost among the offerings. She'd gotten turned around at one point out in the wilds of the countryside, but even after she realized she was heading south, away from Orlando, she'd just kept going. It was late spring and when she'd stopped for gas, the air was thick with the smell of orange blossoms.
It was dumb luck that she saw a sign for an open house. Without really knowing why, she'd followed a breadcrumb trail of arrow-shaped signs away from the main road and into the groves. The house was nothing incredible - a smaller house in the old Florida style - but it was surrounded by groves on three sides. She'd skirted the path leading to the front door and walked into the groves instead, drinking in the pervasive but still delicate sweetness of the blooms.
She was bent over, pushing aside the glossy green leaves of one tree to peek at the tiny, hard buds that would swell into oranges, when a soft voice startled her.
"Be a while before those are good for much of anything, but they'll get there." A tall man with an almost handsome, if somewhat sun-weathered, face stood, arms crossed over his faded blue polo shirt, calmly watching her. He gestured at her hair and nodded, tiny smile playing on his lips. "I like that. Looks good on you."
She'd reached up, flustered, and her hurried fingers knocked the orange blossom she didn't remember tucking into her hair loose. He'd retrieved it with a laugh, reaching up to tuck it behind her ear. "Just as pretty as the Orange Blossom Queen."
"The what?"
"The who - Orange Blossom Queen - crowned every year at the Citrus Festival. Lucky for this year's winner you got here two weeks too late."
His casual familiarity bothered her and she hurried to find words to fill the silence. "I'm sorry. Am I trespassing? I mean, is this your grove?"
"Nah, this is a Ben Hill Grove. I just keep an eye on it."
"So, you're an orange grower?"
He'd smiled. "As much as any of us around here are anymore. Big companies hold the deeds, but we work the groves and sell the crop back to them. Tough going for individual growers these days, though joining up with the big boys isnt' much easier. Sort of tough way to make a living, but I like it."
"Oh." She was still trying to process his nutshell summary of the way of the world around these parts, but he pressed on.
"More importantly, I'm also a realtor." He held out his hand. "I'm Tim. I assume you came about the house? Wasn't really expecting anyone to come out today. Hoping - but not expecting."
Two hours later, she'd gotten back into her rental, his card in her pocket and a packet of papers constituting her initial bid on the house.
After that, things had just fallen into place - the move, settling into the house, and even getting a job. Most of the cities in Polk County were too small to have their own police force, making do with a local office of the county sheriff. She lasted three weeks rattling around in her new house before she started to feel a little stir crazy. On a whim, she'd stopped by the Frostproof office and asked if they were hiring. She missed being part of something, missed doing something important.
The sheriff looked like he came straight out of the screen from an episode of Dukes of Hazzard, a big guy with an even bigger gut and a drawl like warm honey. He didn't much care why she'd left L.A. and assumed she'd gotten burned out on the constant parade of crimes in a big city like that. She didn't bother to correct him and provided the only reference she could think of that might speak well of her, a friend of her dad's. He must have made her out to be some cross between Wonder Woman, Jessica Fletcher, and Cagney and Lacey because she had an offer, with a hefty signing bonus, within a week.
It was a different pace than she was used to and in such small offices, the deputy sheriffs all did a little of everything. In her first month, she'd tracked down cattle rustlers (after her partner managed to convince her there were still cattle rustlers), broken up three bar fights and investigated a possible meth lab explosion. In her two years here, there had only been two murders. And even that was two too many…
She pulled into her driveway, pausing to put the top up before pulling into the carport.
She grabbed her jacket and grabbed the plaque underneath.
Deputy Kate Lockley
In Recognition of her Outstanding Heroism and Dedication to Her Community
Heroism - yeah right. Her first year was a bad one for hurricanes, three storms ripping through the heart of Florida in two months. During the third storm, she and two other deputies had gotten the call that the roof had failed at a local shelter. Battling howling wind and pea-sized hail, they'd gotten everyone safely moved to a nearby church before the wind won the battle and one of the walls of the school collapsed.
It was funny - at the time she hadn't been scared at all, just focused on the task at hand. After everyone was moved and they were doing a second headcount - just to check - the nausea had hit. She ran for the bathroom, falling to her knees and retching until she was sure nothing was left in her.
Heroism was facing your fears.
With a shake of her head, she wedged the plaque between two thick tomes on her bookshelf.
She padded down the hall to her bedroom, the easy happiness of a long drive on a beautiful Florida day gone. Slipping out of her suit, she caught a glint of silver in the mirror on her dresser.
Her fingers closed around the cold metal resting against her chest.
She never took off the silver cross. She wore it beneath her uniform, slept in it, showered in it.
With a scowl, she turned her back on the mirror.
No, she was no hero. She'd run as far from L.A. as she could get without falling into the ocean but…even though the only thing that stalked the nights here were bobcats and tiny Florida deer, drawn to the tender plants in her flowerbed…even though she'd never seen so much as a hint of anything supernatural around these parts…she was still scared.
Some hero.
She slipped into a pair of jeans and well worn t-shirt, turning on every light as she made her way to the kitchen, though it was barely dusk outside.
Tim would be home in two hours.
Tim - orange grower, realtor, former next door neighbor (though the words still felt odd on her tongue when 'next door' was a mile and half up the road) and all-around decent guy.
Tim the live-in boyfriend, the one who didn't ask too many questions, and had learned how to stroke her back when she woke up crying, barely waking up himself as he tried to gentle away her fears.
Tim who never looked up at the full moon with a worried frown, who laughed at the wiccan wanna-bes who frequented a camp up the road, and who never wondered what might be watching him from the shadows.
Such innocence was a kind of heroism too, she thought.
The kind she wished she still had.
END.