Fic: Got Sin? (1/?)
Media: Fic
Title: Got Sin?
Author: slayerkitty
Characters/Pairings: Luke/Reid, Damian/Lily, Eventual Holden/Lily, Past Katie/Brad
Genre: AU, Romance, Angst
Warnings: Exploration of Religion (particularly Catholicism) and Atheism, homophobia (From other characters as well as religious beliefs and some internalized homophobia), violence, mild (currently, but subject to change) blood/gore, Characters impersonating religious figures
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Through Sept 2nd, 2010 to be safe (but this is AU, so no real spoilers)
Word Count: This chapter: 1,206/Total: 11,258 (so far)
Disclaimer: ATWT and its characters are not mine. I'm just playing with them.
Summary: There's no religion that can save me, no matter how long my knees are on the floor.
Author’s Note: I came up with this random idea to do a LuRe seven dead sins fic. In the course of trying to figure it out, the fic suddenly mutated into what you see now. I have no idea what possessed me (hah!) to write this, but the idea won't let me go. PLEASE, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS - if you think something in this fic might offend you in some way, please don't read it. Summary is from “It Will Rain” by Bruno Mars.
No Luke in this first chapter, but he's in chapter 2, which will most likely be posted next Wednesday.
Thanks to alissablue for being an awesome beta. Also thanks to erikssiren for helping me out with the Catholicism related items.
Thou Shalt Not Kill - Exodus 20:13
Reid fought back a yawn as he made his way through the nearly empty parking garage, headed for his car. It had been a very long forty-eight hours. He’d come to the hospital two days ago for his shift, and had ended up in nearly back to back trauma situations, with very little sleep available in between.
All he wanted to do was go home, fall into bed, and sleep.
Reid attributed his lack of sleep as the reason for what happened next. His normally sharp eyes would have seen what was going on in the darkened corner of the parking garage and he would have hid instead of nearly stumbling into it.
Reid turned the corner, eyes only for his car when a loud moan reached his ears. He glanced up as a voice began speaking in Italian. “Dove sono i miei soldi?” the voice said, angry and demanding. Reid saw a tall blond man, the speaker, staring down at a dark haired man cowering on the ground.
“Per favore, non lo so,” the man on the ground begged. Two other men were standing behind them, as if they were holding guard.
Reid should have ducked behind his car then. He should have turned around and gone the way he came. He should have gathered his fucking wits and done something instead of just standing there, because then the tall blond man pulled the trigger on his gun and blew the cowering man’s brains out.
Eyes wide, Reid couldn’t fathom what had just happened and he didn’t have the time to worry about it because his phone rang.
Loudly.
Three heads turned in his direction, and Reid swore as he locked eyes with the killer. Instinct kicked in as he heard the three men swearing in Italian, and Reid started to run. He tore back across the parking garage, the sound of bullets flying behind him. He paid no attention to them. It was harder to hit a moving target, especially if the shooter was moving too.
Reid slammed his way back into the hospital doors tearing down the hallway. It was late, the lights were down low and the hallways were silent. Reid ran, hearing them behind him. He grabbed his badge and waved it in front of an employee only door. He pulled out his cell phone once it shut behind him, and dialed 9-1-1 before turning around a corner and slipping into the nearest supply closet.
*
One Month Earlier
Reid sighed, getting off the plane. The brisk winter wind blew as he descended the steps of WorldWide’s company jet, the imposing figure of Lucinda Walsh at the bottom of the stairs.
“What, no flowers?” Reid asked as he got closer to her. She reached up a hand and pinched his cheek hard. He glared at her and she slapped him lightly.
“Don’t get smart with me, young man,” she ordered. “I might be twice your age, but I can still turn you over my knee.”
“Sorry, but you’re not my type,” Reid replied. “Also, that’s a disturbing image, so thank you for that.” Lucinda just smiled.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “Let’s get a move on and get you settled.”
“Do we have to?” Reid groaned. He hadn’t wanted to come here. He hadn’t wanted to leave Texas.
He hadn’t wanted Annie Judd to die.
“Now, now, my dear,” Lucinda tucked her arm through his free elbow - he was carrying his suitcase in his other hand. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
*
“Your name is Dr. Reid Oliver,” the petite blond in front of him repeated once again.
“Yes,” Reid sighed for the millionth time. “Is this going to take much longer? I’d like to get home and get some sleep before I’m due back at the hospital.” She frowned, meeting his gaze.
“Do you understand what happened tonight, Dr. Oliver?” she asked.
“Yeah, I saw a guy get shot, which is why I’m here. So if we can move this along…” He gestured impatiently with his fingers. Once he’d given the guys from the garage the slip, Reid had holed up in a linen closet (his heart pounding the entire time - killers with guns plus enclosed spaces, not his best night ever ), and called 9-1-1.
Detective Jack Snyder had taken him down the police station, a team had been dispatched to the parking garage to check out his story after a short wait in interrogation, and the petite blond had walked in, introducing herself as Special Agent Katie Snyder.
Agent Snyder pulled out a manila folder and opened it, holding out some pictures. The first two were of the goons in the parking garage who’d just stood there. The third was the blond guy, the one who’d done the actual killing.
“Do you recognize these men?” Agent Snyder asked.
“They’re the ones from the parking garage,” Reid answered.
“But do you know who they are?” she pressed.
“No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that I had to know everyone in Oakdale. I’m pretty sure I don’t actually like any of you all that much.”
“This is Dusty Donovan and this is Paul Ryan.” She pointed to the goons. “They’re big names in Oakdale, and supposedly have ties to this guy.” Agent Snyder pointed at the blond man’s picture again. “Damian Grimaldi, head of the Grimaldi Family Crime Syndicate.”
Looking back, Reid figured he probably shouldn’t have laughed but at the time that was funniest fucking thing he’d ever heard.
“What, so you're telling me I'm suddenly trapped in Oakhell's version of The Godfather?” Reid asked, once he'd stopped laughing. “Look, Goldilocks,” he continued, enjoying the agent’s bristled reaction to his name calling, “I'm sure this Grimaldi guy is bad news. He shot someone in the head, I get it.”
“No, Dr. Oliver, I really don't think you do,” Agent Snyder protested. Reid stood up.
“Look, I gave my statement - multiple times now,” Reid said. “It's beyond time for me to go home, I'm exhausted and I have to be back at the hospital in twelve hours for rounds. If you'll excuse me...”
“Sit down, Dr. Oliver!” Agent Snyder ordered. Reid regarded her carefully, pausing in his walk to the door. “If you take one step out that door, you're a dead man.”
“You can't be serious,” Reid replied, laughter in his voice. Agent Snyder opened another manila folder and slapped it onto the table. She opened it and held out a picture.
“Dawn Roberts,” she began. “Twenty-nine. Mother of two. Witnessed Damian Grimaldi murder someone in cold blood. Jason Fox, Paul Ryan's right hand man. Engaged to a wonderful girl. Turned in evidence that Paul Ryan and Dusty Donovan were cahoots with Damian for the bomb that hit the City Times building last year. Bradley Snyder,” her voice was shaking now. “Husband and father of one. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time and saw Damian and his minions in the process of blackmailing someone.”
“What's your point, Agent Snyder?” Reid sighed, staring her. “What do they have to do with me?”
“They're all fucking dead, asshole,” she snapped. “Now sit down, because I'm about to try and save your life.”
Title: Got Sin?
Author: slayerkitty
Characters/Pairings: Luke/Reid, Damian/Lily, Eventual Holden/Lily, Past Katie/Brad
Genre: AU, Romance, Angst
Warnings: Exploration of Religion (particularly Catholicism) and Atheism, homophobia (From other characters as well as religious beliefs and some internalized homophobia), violence, mild (currently, but subject to change) blood/gore, Characters impersonating religious figures
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Through Sept 2nd, 2010 to be safe (but this is AU, so no real spoilers)
Word Count: This chapter: 1,206/Total: 11,258 (so far)
Disclaimer: ATWT and its characters are not mine. I'm just playing with them.
Summary: There's no religion that can save me, no matter how long my knees are on the floor.
Author’s Note: I came up with this random idea to do a LuRe seven dead sins fic. In the course of trying to figure it out, the fic suddenly mutated into what you see now. I have no idea what possessed me (hah!) to write this, but the idea won't let me go. PLEASE, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS - if you think something in this fic might offend you in some way, please don't read it. Summary is from “It Will Rain” by Bruno Mars.
No Luke in this first chapter, but he's in chapter 2, which will most likely be posted next Wednesday.
Thanks to alissablue for being an awesome beta. Also thanks to erikssiren for helping me out with the Catholicism related items.
Thou Shalt Not Kill - Exodus 20:13
Reid fought back a yawn as he made his way through the nearly empty parking garage, headed for his car. It had been a very long forty-eight hours. He’d come to the hospital two days ago for his shift, and had ended up in nearly back to back trauma situations, with very little sleep available in between.
All he wanted to do was go home, fall into bed, and sleep.
Reid attributed his lack of sleep as the reason for what happened next. His normally sharp eyes would have seen what was going on in the darkened corner of the parking garage and he would have hid instead of nearly stumbling into it.
Reid turned the corner, eyes only for his car when a loud moan reached his ears. He glanced up as a voice began speaking in Italian. “Dove sono i miei soldi?” the voice said, angry and demanding. Reid saw a tall blond man, the speaker, staring down at a dark haired man cowering on the ground.
“Per favore, non lo so,” the man on the ground begged. Two other men were standing behind them, as if they were holding guard.
Reid should have ducked behind his car then. He should have turned around and gone the way he came. He should have gathered his fucking wits and done something instead of just standing there, because then the tall blond man pulled the trigger on his gun and blew the cowering man’s brains out.
Eyes wide, Reid couldn’t fathom what had just happened and he didn’t have the time to worry about it because his phone rang.
Loudly.
Three heads turned in his direction, and Reid swore as he locked eyes with the killer. Instinct kicked in as he heard the three men swearing in Italian, and Reid started to run. He tore back across the parking garage, the sound of bullets flying behind him. He paid no attention to them. It was harder to hit a moving target, especially if the shooter was moving too.
Reid slammed his way back into the hospital doors tearing down the hallway. It was late, the lights were down low and the hallways were silent. Reid ran, hearing them behind him. He grabbed his badge and waved it in front of an employee only door. He pulled out his cell phone once it shut behind him, and dialed 9-1-1 before turning around a corner and slipping into the nearest supply closet.
*
One Month Earlier
Reid sighed, getting off the plane. The brisk winter wind blew as he descended the steps of WorldWide’s company jet, the imposing figure of Lucinda Walsh at the bottom of the stairs.
“What, no flowers?” Reid asked as he got closer to her. She reached up a hand and pinched his cheek hard. He glared at her and she slapped him lightly.
“Don’t get smart with me, young man,” she ordered. “I might be twice your age, but I can still turn you over my knee.”
“Sorry, but you’re not my type,” Reid replied. “Also, that’s a disturbing image, so thank you for that.” Lucinda just smiled.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “Let’s get a move on and get you settled.”
“Do we have to?” Reid groaned. He hadn’t wanted to come here. He hadn’t wanted to leave Texas.
He hadn’t wanted Annie Judd to die.
“Now, now, my dear,” Lucinda tucked her arm through his free elbow - he was carrying his suitcase in his other hand. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
*
“Your name is Dr. Reid Oliver,” the petite blond in front of him repeated once again.
“Yes,” Reid sighed for the millionth time. “Is this going to take much longer? I’d like to get home and get some sleep before I’m due back at the hospital.” She frowned, meeting his gaze.
“Do you understand what happened tonight, Dr. Oliver?” she asked.
“Yeah, I saw a guy get shot, which is why I’m here. So if we can move this along…” He gestured impatiently with his fingers. Once he’d given the guys from the garage the slip, Reid had holed up in a linen closet (his heart pounding the entire time - killers with guns plus enclosed spaces, not his best night ever ), and called 9-1-1.
Detective Jack Snyder had taken him down the police station, a team had been dispatched to the parking garage to check out his story after a short wait in interrogation, and the petite blond had walked in, introducing herself as Special Agent Katie Snyder.
Agent Snyder pulled out a manila folder and opened it, holding out some pictures. The first two were of the goons in the parking garage who’d just stood there. The third was the blond guy, the one who’d done the actual killing.
“Do you recognize these men?” Agent Snyder asked.
“They’re the ones from the parking garage,” Reid answered.
“But do you know who they are?” she pressed.
“No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that I had to know everyone in Oakdale. I’m pretty sure I don’t actually like any of you all that much.”
“This is Dusty Donovan and this is Paul Ryan.” She pointed to the goons. “They’re big names in Oakdale, and supposedly have ties to this guy.” Agent Snyder pointed at the blond man’s picture again. “Damian Grimaldi, head of the Grimaldi Family Crime Syndicate.”
Looking back, Reid figured he probably shouldn’t have laughed but at the time that was funniest fucking thing he’d ever heard.
“What, so you're telling me I'm suddenly trapped in Oakhell's version of The Godfather?” Reid asked, once he'd stopped laughing. “Look, Goldilocks,” he continued, enjoying the agent’s bristled reaction to his name calling, “I'm sure this Grimaldi guy is bad news. He shot someone in the head, I get it.”
“No, Dr. Oliver, I really don't think you do,” Agent Snyder protested. Reid stood up.
“Look, I gave my statement - multiple times now,” Reid said. “It's beyond time for me to go home, I'm exhausted and I have to be back at the hospital in twelve hours for rounds. If you'll excuse me...”
“Sit down, Dr. Oliver!” Agent Snyder ordered. Reid regarded her carefully, pausing in his walk to the door. “If you take one step out that door, you're a dead man.”
“You can't be serious,” Reid replied, laughter in his voice. Agent Snyder opened another manila folder and slapped it onto the table. She opened it and held out a picture.
“Dawn Roberts,” she began. “Twenty-nine. Mother of two. Witnessed Damian Grimaldi murder someone in cold blood. Jason Fox, Paul Ryan's right hand man. Engaged to a wonderful girl. Turned in evidence that Paul Ryan and Dusty Donovan were cahoots with Damian for the bomb that hit the City Times building last year. Bradley Snyder,” her voice was shaking now. “Husband and father of one. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time and saw Damian and his minions in the process of blackmailing someone.”
“What's your point, Agent Snyder?” Reid sighed, staring her. “What do they have to do with me?”
“They're all fucking dead, asshole,” she snapped. “Now sit down, because I'm about to try and save your life.”