MM/Heroes, MM/Bones, Heroes/SCC, Heroes/House: Dialogue fics
Blanket Disclaimer: Anything you recognize isn't mine. Which, in the case of these little ficlets, is pretty much everything.
Title: The Animal Rights Protest Negotiation
Rating: G, pretty much
Word Count: 244
Summary: Lacey from The Middleman and Peter from Heroes for visiblemarket.
“So, you can fly.”
“Yeah.”
“Read minds?”
“That too.”
“Heal from anything.”
“As long as my head’s intact.”
“Okay. You’re super-strong. And you can travel through time. And become invisible.”
Peter sighs, “Yes, yes, and yes, Lacey... Among other things.”
“So why won’t you help me free those animals?!”
“Because it’s against the law!”
“So? Take it from me, it’s not so bad. And it gets easier, you know, the first few times. You move around for a while, maybe pick out a few aliases- it’s a piece of cake!”
“I should probably forget I heard that.”
Lacey pouts, crossing her arms and pointedly turning away. Then she grins slowly, “You know... it’d probably impress that guy you hang around with.”
“What? Lacey, I’d be really surprised if Claude... well... You think so?”
“Sure! He’s got a bit of the rebel, rebel thing about him, doesn’t he?”
Peter shrugs, a fond if reluctant smile gracing his face. “I guess.”
“Sooo...?” Lacey is all encouraging eyes and coyly bitten lower lip.
“I... well, maybe.”
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Thanks so much, Peter!” Lacey throws her arms around the empath in a brief but enthusiastic hug.
“You know for sure the animals will be put down if they aren’t rescued?”
“Yes, they will. All those heinous chum-suckers care about is their precious profit margin. They wouldn’t know the true value of life if it pantsed them in the street.”
“Well, when you put it that way...”
***
Title: The Man in the Eisenhower Jacket
Rating: PG-13 for gore
Word Count: 384
Summary: The eponymous Middleman and Hodgins from Bones for corellianjedi. Probably has a little more plot than it should have, but The Middleman IS the most crossover-able show in universe.
Hodgins was reluctantly impressed when the man crouched down right next to him and the corpse, didn’t stand on the edge of the smell like an idiot. “Doctor Hodgins? I’m Agent Seth Brundle with the Medicocriminal Entomology Department of the FBI. Would you be so kind as to tell me what you’ve found so far?”
Hodgins blinked, a none too friendly comment on federal weight-throwing ready on his tongue, but something about this Agent Brundle made him pause. He couldn’t quite figure it out, so he filled the air with new case jargon, “Well, I can tell you this woman’s been out here for a while. Judging by the Calliphora vicina maggots I’ve found, maybe up to fifteen days.”
Brundle’s gaze changed abruptly, from bland interest to sharp, alarmed focus. “Fifteen days? My fair lady!”
Hodgins frowned, too curious to bother with the odd euphemism, “What? Is that a problem? I mean, more of a problem than usual?”
Brundle glanced at him distractedly, “Only if you’re a law-abiding citizen of this great nation, Doctor Hodgins.” He stood, and Hodgins followed, then suddenly found himself feeling even shorter than usual. The man was a damn giant, with posture a yardstick would envy. He was peering around the foliage like- well, like there was something to see besides foliage.
“Is there something I should know about going on here?” Hodgins inquired, frown deepening.
Brundle sighed through his nose, “Trust me, you’ll know when you should know. And by then, you’ll know.”
Hodgins glanced around, wondering if maybe he was dreaming. Brundle hadn’t actually said what he thought he’d said... had he? “Oh-kay... Should I bother taking any soil samples? Or just hole up in my bunker til this blows over?”
Brundle turned to Hodgins and placed a steady hand on his shoulder, steady eyes meeting his... steadily, “While I can’t in good conscience make promises, I will do my best to keep that from happening.”
“... Who are you?”
“No one. Just the middleman.” Brundle shot Hodgins a crooked, all-American Boy Scout, headstrong and cocksure grin, then strode out into the woods.
Hodgins stood there, utterly bewildered. Not as able as he should’ve been to convince himself that what had happened had actually happened. He almost jumped out of his skin when Brennan called his name.
***
Title: Potential
Rating: PG for some language
Word Count: 228
Summary: Claude from Heroes and Cameron from Terminator: the Sarah Conner Chronicles for c_quinn.
A Company scientist once explained to Claude exactly what he does when he goes invisible. He hadn’t understood a word, but it sounded about right. “Now?”
“I can see you.”
“Damn.” Claude blows out a sigh, “Where are we?”
“One-hundred terahertz,” Cameron replies, eyes trained unblinking on him, “Three-hundred ten nanometers.”
“That’s the top of visibile, yeah?”
“Yes. Almost near-ultraviolet. You’re- faint.”
That pulls up a grin, “Faint, am I? That’s something. We’ll go for low now.” Claude closes his eyes, draws in breath slow and even. Thinks about the infinitesimal space between him and the world. Photons jumping like water on a hotplate, all in a great fit because this one won’t be seen. ‘S all a matter of will-power, in the end. “Now?”
“Aproximately three-hundred terahertz, one point four nanometers.”
“That’s near-infrared,” Claude says, voice strained as he holds off light.
“Yes. Two-hundred ninety terahertz. Three micrometers. Within near-infrared range.”
“And?”
“... I can’t see you.”
Claude lets out a triumphant, “HA!” and drops his concentration. “Let’s see them use their bloody heat vision goggles on me now!”
Cameron cocks her head, “You won’t be able to maintain that level of concentration long enough to escape a T-800. Or agents sent by the Company.”
“No, I won’t- yet.” Claude gets off the couch and tweaks Cameron’s nose on his way to the fridge for a drink.
***
Title: Diagnosis
Rating: PG
Word Count: 295
Summary: Wilson from House and Claude from Heroes for kiltfriction. If this sounds familiar, it's because I stole most of it from the brilliant film Wit.
“So why cancer?”
“I’m sorry?”
Claude frowned and pointed a short glare at Wilson. Long experience told the oncologist several things. “Why cancer? Of all the wide medical world, why go for the disease that kills most it infects?”
“Actually, these days there aren’t that many kinds of cancer that are automatic death-sentences. They’re coming up with new and effective treatments all the time-”
“Leave off the brochure speech, friend, an’ answer my question. Why’s a bloke like you devote himself to one of the heavy-weight champions of illness? It kill off a family member?”
Wilson looked away, discomfort getting the better of him, “No, it’s not like that. It’s not cancer’s effects that interest me.”
When he glanced over, he found Claude’s gaze still pinned on him, bright and sharp, “No?”
“It’s cancer itself. You know, all this time, all the research that’s been thrown at it and we still aren’t sure what causes our cells to just start multiplying out of control. Why they spread and destroy whole people. And we still don’t know why it’s so hard- why cancer is practically unkillable. Immortality in culture... it’s fascinating.”
“Ah...” Wilson looked to see an oh so familiar smug grin, “I see. You’ve a clever disguise, but I see. ‘S not your patients’ mortality you’re worried over. It’s your own. Think maybe, if a tumor can’t be killed, you can’t be killed. I wouldn’t worry too much, if I was you. Firstly, there’s plenty more than cancer that people don’t understand. Secondly, immortality is highly overrated.”
Wilson couldn’t resist asking, because he was sure he’d had this conversation before, “Your real last name wouldn’t happen to be House, would it, Mr. Rains?”
The grin vanished, the blue eyes frosted over. “How’d you know that?”
Title: The Animal Rights Protest Negotiation
Rating: G, pretty much
Word Count: 244
Summary: Lacey from The Middleman and Peter from Heroes for visiblemarket.
“So, you can fly.”
“Yeah.”
“Read minds?”
“That too.”
“Heal from anything.”
“As long as my head’s intact.”
“Okay. You’re super-strong. And you can travel through time. And become invisible.”
Peter sighs, “Yes, yes, and yes, Lacey... Among other things.”
“So why won’t you help me free those animals?!”
“Because it’s against the law!”
“So? Take it from me, it’s not so bad. And it gets easier, you know, the first few times. You move around for a while, maybe pick out a few aliases- it’s a piece of cake!”
“I should probably forget I heard that.”
Lacey pouts, crossing her arms and pointedly turning away. Then she grins slowly, “You know... it’d probably impress that guy you hang around with.”
“What? Lacey, I’d be really surprised if Claude... well... You think so?”
“Sure! He’s got a bit of the rebel, rebel thing about him, doesn’t he?”
Peter shrugs, a fond if reluctant smile gracing his face. “I guess.”
“Sooo...?” Lacey is all encouraging eyes and coyly bitten lower lip.
“I... well, maybe.”
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Thanks so much, Peter!” Lacey throws her arms around the empath in a brief but enthusiastic hug.
“You know for sure the animals will be put down if they aren’t rescued?”
“Yes, they will. All those heinous chum-suckers care about is their precious profit margin. They wouldn’t know the true value of life if it pantsed them in the street.”
“Well, when you put it that way...”
***
Title: The Man in the Eisenhower Jacket
Rating: PG-13 for gore
Word Count: 384
Summary: The eponymous Middleman and Hodgins from Bones for corellianjedi. Probably has a little more plot than it should have, but The Middleman IS the most crossover-able show in universe.
Hodgins was reluctantly impressed when the man crouched down right next to him and the corpse, didn’t stand on the edge of the smell like an idiot. “Doctor Hodgins? I’m Agent Seth Brundle with the Medicocriminal Entomology Department of the FBI. Would you be so kind as to tell me what you’ve found so far?”
Hodgins blinked, a none too friendly comment on federal weight-throwing ready on his tongue, but something about this Agent Brundle made him pause. He couldn’t quite figure it out, so he filled the air with new case jargon, “Well, I can tell you this woman’s been out here for a while. Judging by the Calliphora vicina maggots I’ve found, maybe up to fifteen days.”
Brundle’s gaze changed abruptly, from bland interest to sharp, alarmed focus. “Fifteen days? My fair lady!”
Hodgins frowned, too curious to bother with the odd euphemism, “What? Is that a problem? I mean, more of a problem than usual?”
Brundle glanced at him distractedly, “Only if you’re a law-abiding citizen of this great nation, Doctor Hodgins.” He stood, and Hodgins followed, then suddenly found himself feeling even shorter than usual. The man was a damn giant, with posture a yardstick would envy. He was peering around the foliage like- well, like there was something to see besides foliage.
“Is there something I should know about going on here?” Hodgins inquired, frown deepening.
Brundle sighed through his nose, “Trust me, you’ll know when you should know. And by then, you’ll know.”
Hodgins glanced around, wondering if maybe he was dreaming. Brundle hadn’t actually said what he thought he’d said... had he? “Oh-kay... Should I bother taking any soil samples? Or just hole up in my bunker til this blows over?”
Brundle turned to Hodgins and placed a steady hand on his shoulder, steady eyes meeting his... steadily, “While I can’t in good conscience make promises, I will do my best to keep that from happening.”
“... Who are you?”
“No one. Just the middleman.” Brundle shot Hodgins a crooked, all-American Boy Scout, headstrong and cocksure grin, then strode out into the woods.
Hodgins stood there, utterly bewildered. Not as able as he should’ve been to convince himself that what had happened had actually happened. He almost jumped out of his skin when Brennan called his name.
***
Title: Potential
Rating: PG for some language
Word Count: 228
Summary: Claude from Heroes and Cameron from Terminator: the Sarah Conner Chronicles for c_quinn.
A Company scientist once explained to Claude exactly what he does when he goes invisible. He hadn’t understood a word, but it sounded about right. “Now?”
“I can see you.”
“Damn.” Claude blows out a sigh, “Where are we?”
“One-hundred terahertz,” Cameron replies, eyes trained unblinking on him, “Three-hundred ten nanometers.”
“That’s the top of visibile, yeah?”
“Yes. Almost near-ultraviolet. You’re- faint.”
That pulls up a grin, “Faint, am I? That’s something. We’ll go for low now.” Claude closes his eyes, draws in breath slow and even. Thinks about the infinitesimal space between him and the world. Photons jumping like water on a hotplate, all in a great fit because this one won’t be seen. ‘S all a matter of will-power, in the end. “Now?”
“Aproximately three-hundred terahertz, one point four nanometers.”
“That’s near-infrared,” Claude says, voice strained as he holds off light.
“Yes. Two-hundred ninety terahertz. Three micrometers. Within near-infrared range.”
“And?”
“... I can’t see you.”
Claude lets out a triumphant, “HA!” and drops his concentration. “Let’s see them use their bloody heat vision goggles on me now!”
Cameron cocks her head, “You won’t be able to maintain that level of concentration long enough to escape a T-800. Or agents sent by the Company.”
“No, I won’t- yet.” Claude gets off the couch and tweaks Cameron’s nose on his way to the fridge for a drink.
***
Title: Diagnosis
Rating: PG
Word Count: 295
Summary: Wilson from House and Claude from Heroes for kiltfriction. If this sounds familiar, it's because I stole most of it from the brilliant film Wit.
“So why cancer?”
“I’m sorry?”
Claude frowned and pointed a short glare at Wilson. Long experience told the oncologist several things. “Why cancer? Of all the wide medical world, why go for the disease that kills most it infects?”
“Actually, these days there aren’t that many kinds of cancer that are automatic death-sentences. They’re coming up with new and effective treatments all the time-”
“Leave off the brochure speech, friend, an’ answer my question. Why’s a bloke like you devote himself to one of the heavy-weight champions of illness? It kill off a family member?”
Wilson looked away, discomfort getting the better of him, “No, it’s not like that. It’s not cancer’s effects that interest me.”
When he glanced over, he found Claude’s gaze still pinned on him, bright and sharp, “No?”
“It’s cancer itself. You know, all this time, all the research that’s been thrown at it and we still aren’t sure what causes our cells to just start multiplying out of control. Why they spread and destroy whole people. And we still don’t know why it’s so hard- why cancer is practically unkillable. Immortality in culture... it’s fascinating.”
“Ah...” Wilson looked to see an oh so familiar smug grin, “I see. You’ve a clever disguise, but I see. ‘S not your patients’ mortality you’re worried over. It’s your own. Think maybe, if a tumor can’t be killed, you can’t be killed. I wouldn’t worry too much, if I was you. Firstly, there’s plenty more than cancer that people don’t understand. Secondly, immortality is highly overrated.”
Wilson couldn’t resist asking, because he was sure he’d had this conversation before, “Your real last name wouldn’t happen to be House, would it, Mr. Rains?”
The grin vanished, the blue eyes frosted over. “How’d you know that?”