fic: To Serve and to Protect, Lost (James, Miles), Rated G
Earlier this week, ciaimpala asked for reunions at the lostsquee luau. It made me think of the sideways verse, but that not everyone got reunited in the last episode/scene. No, some managed to find each other before the events that would have happened if flight 815 had crashed on a mysterious island. Jack and Juliet of course. But also Miles and quite a lot of people: his dad, Charlotte, but most of all - please don't fall out of your chairs, here - James. This is my take on how that happened.
Title: To Protect and to Serve
Characters: James, Miles
Word count/Warning: 860 words, rated G
Summary: In a few weeks, he'll be a cop.
Sprawled in his chair, half listening to what's going on in front of the class, it suddenly hits James that in a few weeks he'll be a goddamn cop.
A police officer, yes sir.
It's cause for a couple of blinks, because not even five months ago, he'd came this close to try to con a woman out of her life savings.
He's still not following whatever is said - seriously, classes about report writing? - but the guy beside him snorts quietly. He's short but wiry, definitely of Asian decent, and he doesn't seem impressed one bit by the quality of the education provided to the future men in blue. James is pretty sure he has never met him before, save from the Academy's classrooms, but he none the less seems familiar. The guy notices James is looking at him and raises a questioning eyebrow. James shrugs and looks away. No, they've never met.
He's pretty sure.
***
"Hey, wait up!"
James hears the shout but doesn't slow down, not until a hand touches his arm.
"Are you deaf?" It's the guy from the classroom, now looking a bit pissed. "Talking to you, floppy hair!"
There's a lot of circulation in the corridor, so James steps to the side, he's at the door anyway.
"What do you want?" James asks. He was just about to get a smoke, and it's not like they have that much time for breaks.
"I need someone to spar with," the guy says, looking serious.
James laughs.
"Maybe you'd better find someone your size, Kato," he teases. He must have at least 50 pounds on the guy. It makes the little guy roll his eyes.
"I did. They don't wanna play with me anymore," Midget says. If he wants to get his ass handed to him, James can do that.
"Okay, sure," James says. "What time?"
"Seven?" the guy says, looking pleased.
"See you there," James answers, before pushing out the door.
***
His ears are honest to God ringing, and James shakes his head, hoping to make it stop.
"Will you stop pussying around and just hit me?" the dude says around his mouthpiece, bouncing just out of reach.
James would if he could, dammit. The fucker is fast and he can raise his feet like nobody's business.
"Oh, I'll hit you," James says. "Eventually."
It makes the guy's eyes twinkle with amusement, relaxing for just the half second James needs to land a left hook right to the jaw. Midget stumbles, but stays up, eyes narrowing.
"Oh, this is on," he mumbles, before starting to dance around James once more.
****
It might be because they're both too stubborn and competitive, but they only get out of the ring when Old Bear kicks them out.
"You boys go cool it off elsewhere," he says. "I don't need no accident in my gym."
James has no idea what happened, here. He should have destroyed a guy this small, but he's got at least as many bruises as he inflicted. There's a little consolation in the fact they're both totally wiped out.
They're under the spray in the showers when his sparring partner speaks up, forehead against the tiles as if it's the only thing holding him up. He's got a huge tattoo of a dragon taking most of his back, and Sawyer's eyes keep going back to it. The rest of him is nice, too.
"Name's Miles, by the way," he says. "Miles Straume. Please no joke, I've heard them all."
It makes James chuckle.
"Ford. James Ford," he answers. "I've got to admit, you pack a punch for a munchkin."
Miles turns his head to the side just enough so he can look at James and grin.
"You were sure I'd cry uncle, huh?" he says. "Well you're more vicious than I thought you'd be, and that's a compliment. It was nice to have a good workout for once."
"You ask to get you ass kicked, I won't hold my punches," James says as he steps out of the water and starts toweling dry.
"That's why I asked you," Miles says, as he follows to dry off too. "I find our little clone army of wide eyed and idealist classmates a tad too predictable."
James has to agree. Some are so painfully All-American poster boys and girls; it makes him want to mess them up a little.
"I don't fit the mold?" James teases. He's never fit anywhere, but he usually can fake the blending in pretty easily.
Miles emerges of his black t-shirt and he shakes his head.
"Nope. It's a jungle out there," Miles says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder that most probably means Los Angeles, but possibly the whole world. "And when I'm let loose with a badge and a gun, I'm gonna be prepared."
"Looks like," James says. It's late, he's bone tired and should head home, but for some reason he likes Miles' company. He's done 21 weeks here without trying to make a single friend, but that seems about to change. "Hey, want to go grab a beer?"
The offer seems to surprise Miles, but then he grins too.
"Sure thing, boss. Lead the way."
The End
Title: To Protect and to Serve
Characters: James, Miles
Word count/Warning: 860 words, rated G
Summary: In a few weeks, he'll be a cop.
Sprawled in his chair, half listening to what's going on in front of the class, it suddenly hits James that in a few weeks he'll be a goddamn cop.
A police officer, yes sir.
It's cause for a couple of blinks, because not even five months ago, he'd came this close to try to con a woman out of her life savings.
He's still not following whatever is said - seriously, classes about report writing? - but the guy beside him snorts quietly. He's short but wiry, definitely of Asian decent, and he doesn't seem impressed one bit by the quality of the education provided to the future men in blue. James is pretty sure he has never met him before, save from the Academy's classrooms, but he none the less seems familiar. The guy notices James is looking at him and raises a questioning eyebrow. James shrugs and looks away. No, they've never met.
He's pretty sure.
***
"Hey, wait up!"
James hears the shout but doesn't slow down, not until a hand touches his arm.
"Are you deaf?" It's the guy from the classroom, now looking a bit pissed. "Talking to you, floppy hair!"
There's a lot of circulation in the corridor, so James steps to the side, he's at the door anyway.
"What do you want?" James asks. He was just about to get a smoke, and it's not like they have that much time for breaks.
"I need someone to spar with," the guy says, looking serious.
James laughs.
"Maybe you'd better find someone your size, Kato," he teases. He must have at least 50 pounds on the guy. It makes the little guy roll his eyes.
"I did. They don't wanna play with me anymore," Midget says. If he wants to get his ass handed to him, James can do that.
"Okay, sure," James says. "What time?"
"Seven?" the guy says, looking pleased.
"See you there," James answers, before pushing out the door.
***
His ears are honest to God ringing, and James shakes his head, hoping to make it stop.
"Will you stop pussying around and just hit me?" the dude says around his mouthpiece, bouncing just out of reach.
James would if he could, dammit. The fucker is fast and he can raise his feet like nobody's business.
"Oh, I'll hit you," James says. "Eventually."
It makes the guy's eyes twinkle with amusement, relaxing for just the half second James needs to land a left hook right to the jaw. Midget stumbles, but stays up, eyes narrowing.
"Oh, this is on," he mumbles, before starting to dance around James once more.
****
It might be because they're both too stubborn and competitive, but they only get out of the ring when Old Bear kicks them out.
"You boys go cool it off elsewhere," he says. "I don't need no accident in my gym."
James has no idea what happened, here. He should have destroyed a guy this small, but he's got at least as many bruises as he inflicted. There's a little consolation in the fact they're both totally wiped out.
They're under the spray in the showers when his sparring partner speaks up, forehead against the tiles as if it's the only thing holding him up. He's got a huge tattoo of a dragon taking most of his back, and Sawyer's eyes keep going back to it. The rest of him is nice, too.
"Name's Miles, by the way," he says. "Miles Straume. Please no joke, I've heard them all."
It makes James chuckle.
"Ford. James Ford," he answers. "I've got to admit, you pack a punch for a munchkin."
Miles turns his head to the side just enough so he can look at James and grin.
"You were sure I'd cry uncle, huh?" he says. "Well you're more vicious than I thought you'd be, and that's a compliment. It was nice to have a good workout for once."
"You ask to get you ass kicked, I won't hold my punches," James says as he steps out of the water and starts toweling dry.
"That's why I asked you," Miles says, as he follows to dry off too. "I find our little clone army of wide eyed and idealist classmates a tad too predictable."
James has to agree. Some are so painfully All-American poster boys and girls; it makes him want to mess them up a little.
"I don't fit the mold?" James teases. He's never fit anywhere, but he usually can fake the blending in pretty easily.
Miles emerges of his black t-shirt and he shakes his head.
"Nope. It's a jungle out there," Miles says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder that most probably means Los Angeles, but possibly the whole world. "And when I'm let loose with a badge and a gun, I'm gonna be prepared."
"Looks like," James says. It's late, he's bone tired and should head home, but for some reason he likes Miles' company. He's done 21 weeks here without trying to make a single friend, but that seems about to change. "Hey, want to go grab a beer?"
The offer seems to surprise Miles, but then he grins too.
"Sure thing, boss. Lead the way."
The End