(Community/Lost) The Rainbow Connection for virtual_toast
Title: The Rainbow Connection
Author: princess_vevay
Fandoms: Community/LOST
Characters: Abed, Annie, Troy; Claire, Sawyer
Pairings: slight Abed/Claire
Rating: PG
Word count: 1830
Spoilers: through series finale of LOST, and episode 3.07 of Community
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Community and LOST belong to their respective creators.
A/N: Thank you to aurilly for beta’ing.
Summary: Abed wants to know Claire’s story. He’ll even make one up.
She’s blond and beautiful and possibly broken, as well as Australian. Her attractiveness is not the first thing that Abed notices; it is the air of a damaged damsel-in-distress who is willing to save herself and any prince, knave, or peasant brave-or foolish-enough to risk life and/or limb to rescue her. But there’s also something about her that gives off the vibe of the female protagonist of every romance novel ever written and in every dramatic love story. Her life is not a romantic comedy; her blue eyes are sad and tortured.
“Are you part of a study group?” he asks her one day as they’re walking out of class. She shares a class, one solitary class, with Abed and Annie (it won’t be until Abed has introduced Claire Harding to everyone that finds out she has shared at least one class with every member of the group since they enrolled in the Fall of 2009), but she seems so lonely and so desperate for human contact that Abed can’t help himself. He has to extend an invitation to her because he can hear Britta’s voice in his head about how some people need to be reached out to, to know someone cares, even if that someone is a stranger.
It takes weeks before Abed is able to coax her from her shell and she begins to talk to him, an occasional glimpse of a smile here and there, actually carrying on conversations (she’s still holding back so much, almost everything except tinkling bits of laughter) in the lobby outside the counseling center. There’s something about the way that her body tenses and her eyes widen, in the quickest of flashes, imperceptible to most, when he mentions the annual paintball contest, that gives him pause.
What could she possibly have against paintball?
A couple weeks later, Abed will file away the clip of Claire quickly ducking into the front seat of a car being driven by the mysterious gunslinger from that spring’s paintball competition.
Huh. Interesting.
He mentions this to Annie one evening while she’s folding her laundry. “You’re sure it was The Black Rider?”
“Positive. Same dimples, same dirty blonde hair, same dark piercing blue eyes and overall ruggedly good looks. If I’d been close enough to hear him speak, I’m sure it would have been with the same swoon-worthy Southern drawl.”
“I don’t know if I want to be that guy or if I should hate him. I must say, part of me does find him oddly attractive. Does that make me gay?” Troy wonders.
Annie giggles. “He is rather handsome from what I recall.” She grows serious, “So, wait, do you think City College is planning something else?
Ignoring her question, Troy changes the subject, “Do you think she’s like a Bond girl? Sexy and evil with a heart of gold buried deep down inside whose redemption will come with her untimely death?”
Abed mulls Troy’s query over for a moment, a finger pressed to his lips. He pulls it away, and then directs it at Troy, “No.” Then, this time addressing Annie, he says, “I have considered that Claire was sent to Greendale on a reconnaissance mission, she’s the perfect mole. She comes across as unassuming and inconspicuous.”
Annie can hear the doubt in his voice. “But?”
“There’s something else. I can’t quite put my finger on it but I don’t think she is a mole. I think she’s lonely. She needs friends.”
Annie frowns. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her talk to anyone at school other than you.”
“She is very stand-offish. I’m thinking about asking her to be a guest on our morning show. Or perhaps casting her in my next film. I think she’d be a great heroine.”
“Just make sure she’s not evil first,” Troy warns, grabbing a pint of ice cream out of the freezer before shuffling over to the sofa in his footie pajamas.
* * *
Sawyer pulls a beer out of the refrigerator. “Hey, Mamacita, whatcha readin’?”
“I’m studying. I have a test tomorrow,” Claire says simply, highlighting a definition in her notes. She twirls the highlighter between her fingers.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
She puts the highlighter down. She looks so fierce and vulnerable at the same time. “I want more than this, Sawyer. We’ve been living lies for the past four years.”
“Newsflash, Sweetheart, we’ve all been living lies for longer than that.”
Claire swallows her concerns. “When is Kate coming home?”
He snorts. Kate doesn’t consider this place home; she doesn’t consider anyplace home. His voice becomes gruff. “I don’t know, she doesn’t tell me anything.”
“Is she bringing Aaron this time?”
“I told you, Claire, I don’t know. I don’t know when she’s coming back or if she’s bringing your boy. Hell, why don’t you call your damn ‘mum’ and ask her to bring your kid?” He stops when he sees her nostrils beginning to flare the way that they do when she’s pissed or on the verge of tears. He feels like a jackass and he’s fully willing to admit that he is (to Claire at least). “Aww, hell, Mamacita, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you-it’s just-you know it’s never been the same with Freckles since-”
“Since Jack and Juliet died.” She sniffs. “Do you ever want to go back?”
“Never.”
She chews on her bottom lip for a moment before blurting, “I want to stay here, Sawyer.”
“We’ve been here two years.” It’s residual from his conman days, he never wants to stay in one place too long and two years is pushing it. If she hadn’t insisted on enrolling in on-site classes, they would’ve been long gone by now.
“You can leave. You don’t have to stay with me, Sawyer. I don’t need you to take care of me or protect me. You can chase Kate or you can go be with your daughter, try to be a family-”
“We are a family, Claire, you and me, and Freckles, when she decides to grace us with her presence. The Ghost Whisperer, too, when he pops in.”
She curls and uncurls a corner on a sheet of notebook paper. “I’m making friends, Sawyer. There’s this guy-”
His face brightens, and he smiles. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place? That’s great. I mean, it’s about damn time! Shit, Claire, you deserve to be happy after everything that’s happened. Tell me about this guy.”
She tells him everything she currently knows about Abed Nadir, including his avid participation in the paintball competition.
Sawyer smirks. “Oh, he was one of those, huh? I gotta say, if I hadn’t been in it for the pay, I might’ve had more fun. There was this sweet little brunette with blue eyes-”
“Annie,” Claire offers. “I have a class with her.”
“She single?”
“Sawyer…”
“Kidding, Mamacita.”
She smiles at him. “No, you’re not.”
He winks at her. He’ll always have the oozing charm of a snake oil salesman. She laughs.
* * *
“Big Thanksgiving dinner coming up?”
Claire turns, her short hair whipping around. “I’m sorry?”
“I was just asking if your family has a big celebration for Thanksgiving,” Abed clarifies as he slides into his seat.
“Oh, no. I think this year it’s just going to be me and a friend.”
Claire misses the look that passes between Abed and Annie. “Hmm. It’s the first year Annie, Troy, and I have truly ventured out on our own. None of us have ever attempted to cook a turkey before so it’s bound to be a comedy of errors. At the very least, a food fight is sure to ensue. There’ll probably be a pop hit from the nineties playing in the background. Perhaps the theme song from Friends or Len’s ‘Steal My Sunshine;’ personally, I’m hoping for the latter.”
Annie blurts, “Would you and your friend like to join us?”
“I…” She looks slightly confused. She’s exchanged pleasantries with Annie since she and Abed started becoming friends but this sudden invitation comes completely out of left field. She’s not comfortable with the thought of spending the holiday with people she barely knows, who will never know the real her. And she knows Sawyer won’t want to go, not if they’re going to recognize him and start asking questions. Questions, simple or not, always lead to more questions and more lies. Maybe Sawyer was right; maybe it is time to pull up stakes and hit the road again. “I wouldn’t want to impose. My friend and I don’t really celebrate Thanksgiving; it’s not a big holiday for us.”
“Oh.” Annie looks disappointed, a small frown marring her features.
“We could bring you a plate if you’d like,” Abed offers.
“Oh, no thank you. I appreciate it but…” she gets quiet. “No thanks.”
The last day of classes before Thanksgiving break, Abed, Annie, and Troy watch from the bushes as Claire she waits for her ride. The car slows and Annie’s eyes widen, “Oh my God, it is The Black Rider!”
“Just as I suspected.”
“He really is ruggedly handsome,” Troy sighs. “How is it fair for him to be that good looking?”
Annie’s eyes narrow as the petite blonde tosses her backpack into the backseat before climbing into the front passenger seat. “What do you think their connection is?”
Abed shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
The wheels turn in Troy’s head and his snaps his fingers, “Maybe she’s in Witness Protection and he’s her handler. It would explain why she’s so secretive, and doesn’t have any friends here, and is against having company over.”
Annie nods slowly. “Okay, but if he’s her handler, why did he infiltrate the paintball game last semester?”
Troy deflates. “I don’t know. It could have been part of his cover. I hadn’t gotten than far yet.”
Abed has pulled out a notepad and is scribbling in it, “You know, this would make for a great noir film. I would be washed-up the private eye, Annie, you’d be my feisty secretary, and Claire would be the mysterious femme fatale I’d find waiting in my office late one stormy night, desperately seeking my help to solve a mystery involving her past. The Black Rider would be the cryptic, street-worn police detective who believes she’s guilty of something, of what, he’s not sure, but he’s going to find out and put her away. And Troy, you would be a plucky young newspaper reporter who stumbles across the mystery Claire is tied too.”
“I don’t die, do I?” Troy asks seriously.
“You’ll be wounded, we both will, but you’ll have a speedier recovery and your story, Claire’s story, will make the front page.”
Troy pumps his fist into the air. “Sweet! Best fictionalized version of someone’s backstory ever! You know, as of yet.”
Annie chuckles, “You guys realize that’s probably way more interesting than whatever their real story is, don’t you?”
Abed shrugs, “Yeah, probably.”
-END-
Prompt:
-paintball
-a loving family
Author: princess_vevay
Fandoms: Community/LOST
Characters: Abed, Annie, Troy; Claire, Sawyer
Pairings: slight Abed/Claire
Rating: PG
Word count: 1830
Spoilers: through series finale of LOST, and episode 3.07 of Community
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Community and LOST belong to their respective creators.
A/N: Thank you to aurilly for beta’ing.
Summary: Abed wants to know Claire’s story. He’ll even make one up.
She’s blond and beautiful and possibly broken, as well as Australian. Her attractiveness is not the first thing that Abed notices; it is the air of a damaged damsel-in-distress who is willing to save herself and any prince, knave, or peasant brave-or foolish-enough to risk life and/or limb to rescue her. But there’s also something about her that gives off the vibe of the female protagonist of every romance novel ever written and in every dramatic love story. Her life is not a romantic comedy; her blue eyes are sad and tortured.
“Are you part of a study group?” he asks her one day as they’re walking out of class. She shares a class, one solitary class, with Abed and Annie (it won’t be until Abed has introduced Claire Harding to everyone that finds out she has shared at least one class with every member of the group since they enrolled in the Fall of 2009), but she seems so lonely and so desperate for human contact that Abed can’t help himself. He has to extend an invitation to her because he can hear Britta’s voice in his head about how some people need to be reached out to, to know someone cares, even if that someone is a stranger.
It takes weeks before Abed is able to coax her from her shell and she begins to talk to him, an occasional glimpse of a smile here and there, actually carrying on conversations (she’s still holding back so much, almost everything except tinkling bits of laughter) in the lobby outside the counseling center. There’s something about the way that her body tenses and her eyes widen, in the quickest of flashes, imperceptible to most, when he mentions the annual paintball contest, that gives him pause.
What could she possibly have against paintball?
A couple weeks later, Abed will file away the clip of Claire quickly ducking into the front seat of a car being driven by the mysterious gunslinger from that spring’s paintball competition.
Huh. Interesting.
He mentions this to Annie one evening while she’s folding her laundry. “You’re sure it was The Black Rider?”
“Positive. Same dimples, same dirty blonde hair, same dark piercing blue eyes and overall ruggedly good looks. If I’d been close enough to hear him speak, I’m sure it would have been with the same swoon-worthy Southern drawl.”
“I don’t know if I want to be that guy or if I should hate him. I must say, part of me does find him oddly attractive. Does that make me gay?” Troy wonders.
Annie giggles. “He is rather handsome from what I recall.” She grows serious, “So, wait, do you think City College is planning something else?
Ignoring her question, Troy changes the subject, “Do you think she’s like a Bond girl? Sexy and evil with a heart of gold buried deep down inside whose redemption will come with her untimely death?”
Abed mulls Troy’s query over for a moment, a finger pressed to his lips. He pulls it away, and then directs it at Troy, “No.” Then, this time addressing Annie, he says, “I have considered that Claire was sent to Greendale on a reconnaissance mission, she’s the perfect mole. She comes across as unassuming and inconspicuous.”
Annie can hear the doubt in his voice. “But?”
“There’s something else. I can’t quite put my finger on it but I don’t think she is a mole. I think she’s lonely. She needs friends.”
Annie frowns. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her talk to anyone at school other than you.”
“She is very stand-offish. I’m thinking about asking her to be a guest on our morning show. Or perhaps casting her in my next film. I think she’d be a great heroine.”
“Just make sure she’s not evil first,” Troy warns, grabbing a pint of ice cream out of the freezer before shuffling over to the sofa in his footie pajamas.
* * *
Sawyer pulls a beer out of the refrigerator. “Hey, Mamacita, whatcha readin’?”
“I’m studying. I have a test tomorrow,” Claire says simply, highlighting a definition in her notes. She twirls the highlighter between her fingers.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
She puts the highlighter down. She looks so fierce and vulnerable at the same time. “I want more than this, Sawyer. We’ve been living lies for the past four years.”
“Newsflash, Sweetheart, we’ve all been living lies for longer than that.”
Claire swallows her concerns. “When is Kate coming home?”
He snorts. Kate doesn’t consider this place home; she doesn’t consider anyplace home. His voice becomes gruff. “I don’t know, she doesn’t tell me anything.”
“Is she bringing Aaron this time?”
“I told you, Claire, I don’t know. I don’t know when she’s coming back or if she’s bringing your boy. Hell, why don’t you call your damn ‘mum’ and ask her to bring your kid?” He stops when he sees her nostrils beginning to flare the way that they do when she’s pissed or on the verge of tears. He feels like a jackass and he’s fully willing to admit that he is (to Claire at least). “Aww, hell, Mamacita, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you-it’s just-you know it’s never been the same with Freckles since-”
“Since Jack and Juliet died.” She sniffs. “Do you ever want to go back?”
“Never.”
She chews on her bottom lip for a moment before blurting, “I want to stay here, Sawyer.”
“We’ve been here two years.” It’s residual from his conman days, he never wants to stay in one place too long and two years is pushing it. If she hadn’t insisted on enrolling in on-site classes, they would’ve been long gone by now.
“You can leave. You don’t have to stay with me, Sawyer. I don’t need you to take care of me or protect me. You can chase Kate or you can go be with your daughter, try to be a family-”
“We are a family, Claire, you and me, and Freckles, when she decides to grace us with her presence. The Ghost Whisperer, too, when he pops in.”
She curls and uncurls a corner on a sheet of notebook paper. “I’m making friends, Sawyer. There’s this guy-”
His face brightens, and he smiles. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place? That’s great. I mean, it’s about damn time! Shit, Claire, you deserve to be happy after everything that’s happened. Tell me about this guy.”
She tells him everything she currently knows about Abed Nadir, including his avid participation in the paintball competition.
Sawyer smirks. “Oh, he was one of those, huh? I gotta say, if I hadn’t been in it for the pay, I might’ve had more fun. There was this sweet little brunette with blue eyes-”
“Annie,” Claire offers. “I have a class with her.”
“She single?”
“Sawyer…”
“Kidding, Mamacita.”
She smiles at him. “No, you’re not.”
He winks at her. He’ll always have the oozing charm of a snake oil salesman. She laughs.
* * *
“Big Thanksgiving dinner coming up?”
Claire turns, her short hair whipping around. “I’m sorry?”
“I was just asking if your family has a big celebration for Thanksgiving,” Abed clarifies as he slides into his seat.
“Oh, no. I think this year it’s just going to be me and a friend.”
Claire misses the look that passes between Abed and Annie. “Hmm. It’s the first year Annie, Troy, and I have truly ventured out on our own. None of us have ever attempted to cook a turkey before so it’s bound to be a comedy of errors. At the very least, a food fight is sure to ensue. There’ll probably be a pop hit from the nineties playing in the background. Perhaps the theme song from Friends or Len’s ‘Steal My Sunshine;’ personally, I’m hoping for the latter.”
Annie blurts, “Would you and your friend like to join us?”
“I…” She looks slightly confused. She’s exchanged pleasantries with Annie since she and Abed started becoming friends but this sudden invitation comes completely out of left field. She’s not comfortable with the thought of spending the holiday with people she barely knows, who will never know the real her. And she knows Sawyer won’t want to go, not if they’re going to recognize him and start asking questions. Questions, simple or not, always lead to more questions and more lies. Maybe Sawyer was right; maybe it is time to pull up stakes and hit the road again. “I wouldn’t want to impose. My friend and I don’t really celebrate Thanksgiving; it’s not a big holiday for us.”
“Oh.” Annie looks disappointed, a small frown marring her features.
“We could bring you a plate if you’d like,” Abed offers.
“Oh, no thank you. I appreciate it but…” she gets quiet. “No thanks.”
The last day of classes before Thanksgiving break, Abed, Annie, and Troy watch from the bushes as Claire she waits for her ride. The car slows and Annie’s eyes widen, “Oh my God, it is The Black Rider!”
“Just as I suspected.”
“He really is ruggedly handsome,” Troy sighs. “How is it fair for him to be that good looking?”
Annie’s eyes narrow as the petite blonde tosses her backpack into the backseat before climbing into the front passenger seat. “What do you think their connection is?”
Abed shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
The wheels turn in Troy’s head and his snaps his fingers, “Maybe she’s in Witness Protection and he’s her handler. It would explain why she’s so secretive, and doesn’t have any friends here, and is against having company over.”
Annie nods slowly. “Okay, but if he’s her handler, why did he infiltrate the paintball game last semester?”
Troy deflates. “I don’t know. It could have been part of his cover. I hadn’t gotten than far yet.”
Abed has pulled out a notepad and is scribbling in it, “You know, this would make for a great noir film. I would be washed-up the private eye, Annie, you’d be my feisty secretary, and Claire would be the mysterious femme fatale I’d find waiting in my office late one stormy night, desperately seeking my help to solve a mystery involving her past. The Black Rider would be the cryptic, street-worn police detective who believes she’s guilty of something, of what, he’s not sure, but he’s going to find out and put her away. And Troy, you would be a plucky young newspaper reporter who stumbles across the mystery Claire is tied too.”
“I don’t die, do I?” Troy asks seriously.
“You’ll be wounded, we both will, but you’ll have a speedier recovery and your story, Claire’s story, will make the front page.”
Troy pumps his fist into the air. “Sweet! Best fictionalized version of someone’s backstory ever! You know, as of yet.”
Annie chuckles, “You guys realize that’s probably way more interesting than whatever their real story is, don’t you?”
Abed shrugs, “Yeah, probably.”
-END-
Prompt:
-paintball
-a loving family