FIC: In Another Life (13/22) - BtVS/Numb3rs
Title: In Another Life (13/22+Epilogue)
Author: lyl_devil
Rating: PG-15
Fandom: BtVS, Numb3rs
Pairing: Willow/Don
Beta: strangevisitor7 & kallie_kat
Words: ~37,500 (as of Dec 28, 2008)
Disclaimer: I don’t own either show. I just like to play in their sandboxes.
Summary: Every action has a consequence and every deal comes with a price. Willow’s life is wiped clean, so she makes a new one for herself in LA.
Master Post
Note: I don’t claim to know anything about magic, medicine or the FBI - what I didn’t pick up from tv and books, I made up.
~!~
Part 13
Don lowered his arm with a wince as the nurse finished wrapping his ribs. How the evening had degenerated into a trip to the ER was no mystery to him, though he had to wonder how he kept finding himself in these situations. A night out spent accompanying his girlfriend to a work-related party had turned into a robbery gone wrong and a hostage situation, capped off by industrial espionage.
Don felt mildly better just thinking about how Jack Munroe was going to take his competitor apart piece by piece, and that was before the police had found a solid connection between the attackers and the rival software company. But still.
This was his night off, damnit!
He should be at home, wrapped around a red headed goddess in black garters, not sitting on a gurney while Nurse Hatchet failed at Bedside Manner 101.
“Are you done?” he asked snidely as she poked his ribs yet again. He was tired, sore, annoyed and coming down from an adrenaline rush. He was also missing his girlfriend. The cops had told him she'd gone to the hospital to be looked at, and one of the EMTs had said something about shock.
The nurse gave him a sour look before leaving, saying he was free to go.
Don slid off the gurney very carefully and slowly pulled on his shirt, ribs protesting the movement. He'd refused the good pain meds, settling for aspirin and a good night's sleep. Most agents he knew shied away from the heavy meds unless absolutely necessary, all of them having seen more than one colleague fall into their clutches. Cracked ribs did not require Percocet, no matter what the doctor said.
Just as he was buttoning up his shirt, the curtain was pulled aside and over walked Willow. She looked like he felt, and he had no doubt she'd been questioned by the police for hours like he had. The only difference was that her questioning had probably taken place in the ER, while his had been back at Arctic Morgan.
“Hey,” she said, sounding tired and relieved.
“Hey, back,” he replied, looking her over. She looked as tired as she sounded, dark rings already visible under her red-rimmed eyes. “How's Melanie?” he dared to ask.
“They think she'll pull through. She's in surgery now,” she said, stepping closer. “Her husband's here. So are her kids.”
Don closed his eyes in sympathy.
“Did anyone else get hurt?” she asked.
“A couple of bumps and bruises among the guests, worse for the security teams, but nothing serious,” he told her, noticing she was still wearing his jacket over her dress. The edges of the black jacket opened as she moved her arms, revealing the blood-stained dress underneath. A sudden, overwhelming mix of emotions overtook him at the sight. It was too confusing to sort out, so he went with the one he was familiar with. Anger.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?!” he snapped at her, barely cognitive of his raised voice.
Willow just looked stunned. “What?”
“There were men with guns - who had no problem shooting people - and you put yourself in their sights!” Even as he was speaking - yelling, really - he knew he should stop, but the panic and fear he'd been holding back since the instant she stood up in that ballroom was the only thing he could see.
“I-I was just-” she stuttered, as taken aback by his anger as he was, apparently.
“Were you even thinking?!” he shouted at her, arm waving in her direction. “You could have been killed!”
“Melanie was hurt. Dying!” she said, getting angry herself. He could see her eyes narrowing when she looked at him, and it only made his rage intensify.
“You could have been hurt! You could have been the one lying on the ground, bleeding to death!”
She just looked at him in silence, her face tight and eyes glistening.
“I couldn't do nothing,” she said quietly, her voice trembling but strong. “I couldn't just sit back and watch someone die while I had the ability to help. I just couldn't.”
Something inside Don broke at that, dissipating his anger in one fell swoop. Don moved forward and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.
“I know you couldn't,” he said. “It's not in you to ignore someone in need; to not help someone who's hurt. It's one of the reasons I l--” Don's throat closed up on that, not sure he was ready to face his feelings, especially at a time like this. “I was scared,” he admitted, finally.
He could feel her relax in his arms, her face pressed against his neck.
“I was terrified,” she admitted as well, wrapping her arms around him. He could feel her entire body trembling as she spoke, griping him tighter as the trembling increased.
He hissed in pain when she pressed too hard on his newly bound ribs, pulling away from her slightly.
“Don?” she said, looking worried.
“A couple of cracked ribs, nothing serious. Promise,” he added, seeing that the worry didn't diminish. “Let's go home.”
Willow nodded in agreement, letting him lead her out of the hospital. His car was still in the Arctic Morgan parking lot, and he decided to leave it until tomorrow. Right now, getting back to his place was more important.
The cab ride back seemed to take an eternity but they eventually made it, though Willow looked like she was barely holding on. Her entire body shook as the evening caught up with her. There was shock, and then there was emotional shock, and Don suspected this was the latter. She'd probably held herself together by sheer determination, and with the ER being flooded by the injured from the party, the doctors had most likely let her get away with it.
They reached his apartment and Don immediately sent her to the shower, hoping that washing off the remainder of the dried blood would do her some good. While the shower was running, the dress, garter and stockings, her blood-stained shoes and his tux jacket all went into the trash, never to be seen again.
He changed himself, wincing at the pain the movements caused. Looking at the clock, he realized she'd been in the shower for too long, and went in to retrieve her.
Walking into the steam-filled room, he called her name, not surprised to hear muffled whimpering from behind the shower curtain.
“Hey, hey,” he murmured as he pulled back the curtain, seeing her curled in a ball under the spray. Turning off the water, he grabbed a towel and wrapped her in it, pulling her up and out of the room. Shutting the lights off as he went, Don laid her down on the bed, disentangling her fingers from his shirt as he tried to tuck her under the covers.
Climbing in beside her, Don pulled her up against him. She felt impossibly small in his arms, and Don had another moment of heart clench at the thought.
Murmuring reassuring, meaningless phrases into her hair, he was unsurprised when she started to quietly cry. He was trained to deal with situations like tonight, and he had the experience to know how to handle the after effects. Willow had no such training to fall back on. All she had was Don.
As she buried her face deeper into his chest, fingers gripping his shirt, Don promised himself that she would never have to go through an experience like that again.
Soon after, Don felt her crying slow to nothing as her body went limp. She was finally asleep.
Don felt his body begin to relax before it started its own occasional jerks. His own denied reactions were setting in, and he buried his face in Willow’s hair and held on tighter.
Days like this, he was glad he had someone to hold on to, to ground him in the moment.
Someone to hold on to him.
End Part 13
Part 14
Author: lyl_devil
Rating: PG-15
Fandom: BtVS, Numb3rs
Pairing: Willow/Don
Beta: strangevisitor7 & kallie_kat
Words: ~37,500 (as of Dec 28, 2008)
Disclaimer: I don’t own either show. I just like to play in their sandboxes.
Summary: Every action has a consequence and every deal comes with a price. Willow’s life is wiped clean, so she makes a new one for herself in LA.
Master Post
Note: I don’t claim to know anything about magic, medicine or the FBI - what I didn’t pick up from tv and books, I made up.
~!~
Part 13
Don lowered his arm with a wince as the nurse finished wrapping his ribs. How the evening had degenerated into a trip to the ER was no mystery to him, though he had to wonder how he kept finding himself in these situations. A night out spent accompanying his girlfriend to a work-related party had turned into a robbery gone wrong and a hostage situation, capped off by industrial espionage.
Don felt mildly better just thinking about how Jack Munroe was going to take his competitor apart piece by piece, and that was before the police had found a solid connection between the attackers and the rival software company. But still.
This was his night off, damnit!
He should be at home, wrapped around a red headed goddess in black garters, not sitting on a gurney while Nurse Hatchet failed at Bedside Manner 101.
“Are you done?” he asked snidely as she poked his ribs yet again. He was tired, sore, annoyed and coming down from an adrenaline rush. He was also missing his girlfriend. The cops had told him she'd gone to the hospital to be looked at, and one of the EMTs had said something about shock.
The nurse gave him a sour look before leaving, saying he was free to go.
Don slid off the gurney very carefully and slowly pulled on his shirt, ribs protesting the movement. He'd refused the good pain meds, settling for aspirin and a good night's sleep. Most agents he knew shied away from the heavy meds unless absolutely necessary, all of them having seen more than one colleague fall into their clutches. Cracked ribs did not require Percocet, no matter what the doctor said.
Just as he was buttoning up his shirt, the curtain was pulled aside and over walked Willow. She looked like he felt, and he had no doubt she'd been questioned by the police for hours like he had. The only difference was that her questioning had probably taken place in the ER, while his had been back at Arctic Morgan.
“Hey,” she said, sounding tired and relieved.
“Hey, back,” he replied, looking her over. She looked as tired as she sounded, dark rings already visible under her red-rimmed eyes. “How's Melanie?” he dared to ask.
“They think she'll pull through. She's in surgery now,” she said, stepping closer. “Her husband's here. So are her kids.”
Don closed his eyes in sympathy.
“Did anyone else get hurt?” she asked.
“A couple of bumps and bruises among the guests, worse for the security teams, but nothing serious,” he told her, noticing she was still wearing his jacket over her dress. The edges of the black jacket opened as she moved her arms, revealing the blood-stained dress underneath. A sudden, overwhelming mix of emotions overtook him at the sight. It was too confusing to sort out, so he went with the one he was familiar with. Anger.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?!” he snapped at her, barely cognitive of his raised voice.
Willow just looked stunned. “What?”
“There were men with guns - who had no problem shooting people - and you put yourself in their sights!” Even as he was speaking - yelling, really - he knew he should stop, but the panic and fear he'd been holding back since the instant she stood up in that ballroom was the only thing he could see.
“I-I was just-” she stuttered, as taken aback by his anger as he was, apparently.
“Were you even thinking?!” he shouted at her, arm waving in her direction. “You could have been killed!”
“Melanie was hurt. Dying!” she said, getting angry herself. He could see her eyes narrowing when she looked at him, and it only made his rage intensify.
“You could have been hurt! You could have been the one lying on the ground, bleeding to death!”
She just looked at him in silence, her face tight and eyes glistening.
“I couldn't do nothing,” she said quietly, her voice trembling but strong. “I couldn't just sit back and watch someone die while I had the ability to help. I just couldn't.”
Something inside Don broke at that, dissipating his anger in one fell swoop. Don moved forward and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.
“I know you couldn't,” he said. “It's not in you to ignore someone in need; to not help someone who's hurt. It's one of the reasons I l--” Don's throat closed up on that, not sure he was ready to face his feelings, especially at a time like this. “I was scared,” he admitted, finally.
He could feel her relax in his arms, her face pressed against his neck.
“I was terrified,” she admitted as well, wrapping her arms around him. He could feel her entire body trembling as she spoke, griping him tighter as the trembling increased.
He hissed in pain when she pressed too hard on his newly bound ribs, pulling away from her slightly.
“Don?” she said, looking worried.
“A couple of cracked ribs, nothing serious. Promise,” he added, seeing that the worry didn't diminish. “Let's go home.”
Willow nodded in agreement, letting him lead her out of the hospital. His car was still in the Arctic Morgan parking lot, and he decided to leave it until tomorrow. Right now, getting back to his place was more important.
The cab ride back seemed to take an eternity but they eventually made it, though Willow looked like she was barely holding on. Her entire body shook as the evening caught up with her. There was shock, and then there was emotional shock, and Don suspected this was the latter. She'd probably held herself together by sheer determination, and with the ER being flooded by the injured from the party, the doctors had most likely let her get away with it.
They reached his apartment and Don immediately sent her to the shower, hoping that washing off the remainder of the dried blood would do her some good. While the shower was running, the dress, garter and stockings, her blood-stained shoes and his tux jacket all went into the trash, never to be seen again.
He changed himself, wincing at the pain the movements caused. Looking at the clock, he realized she'd been in the shower for too long, and went in to retrieve her.
Walking into the steam-filled room, he called her name, not surprised to hear muffled whimpering from behind the shower curtain.
“Hey, hey,” he murmured as he pulled back the curtain, seeing her curled in a ball under the spray. Turning off the water, he grabbed a towel and wrapped her in it, pulling her up and out of the room. Shutting the lights off as he went, Don laid her down on the bed, disentangling her fingers from his shirt as he tried to tuck her under the covers.
Climbing in beside her, Don pulled her up against him. She felt impossibly small in his arms, and Don had another moment of heart clench at the thought.
Murmuring reassuring, meaningless phrases into her hair, he was unsurprised when she started to quietly cry. He was trained to deal with situations like tonight, and he had the experience to know how to handle the after effects. Willow had no such training to fall back on. All she had was Don.
As she buried her face deeper into his chest, fingers gripping his shirt, Don promised himself that she would never have to go through an experience like that again.
Soon after, Don felt her crying slow to nothing as her body went limp. She was finally asleep.
Don felt his body begin to relax before it started its own occasional jerks. His own denied reactions were setting in, and he buried his face in Willow’s hair and held on tighter.
Days like this, he was glad he had someone to hold on to, to ground him in the moment.
Someone to hold on to him.
End Part 13
Part 14