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Aug. 5th, 2011 09:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
liptonrm_backupAll right, now on to less frustrating things. A couple months ago ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dodger_sister had a dream that, when she recounted it the next day, we all thought it would make a delightful story. I have the privilege of being the only one off my rocker enough to attempt to tell it. I think I'm going to try this whole "posting things as a WIP" for a while so here's the first part.
This doesn't have a title yet, the name on the draft is Codename: Hotass. It involves Victor Henricksen as a P.I., Dand Scully as a Professor/Forensic Scientist at a local college, and Dean Winchester and Calvin Reid as police detectives. I'm sure you can all guess why it's called Hotass. =D
Victor Henricksen stood at the edge of the field. The space glowed under the April sun, grass only now beginning to green after the winter cold. Trees lined the river bank, some misted with new spring growth but most still barren. Victor sighed and stepped onto turf still wet from the morning's rain. He didn't want to be here, knew that it was a dead end. The trail in the Meg Masters case had been cold for almost five years. But here he was, anyway, trudging across a field, getting mud on his cuffs, all because Sandra Masters had sat on the other side of his desk, tears in her eyes, asking him to look for her little girl in this one last place.
He'd say that he was turning into a sap, that P.I. work had worn the hard-boiled son of a bitch right out of him except he knew that wasn't true. He'd always been a sucker for a bad luck case, for the people whose lives got lost between the cracks in the system. He couldn't count the number of sleepless nights he'd had running through other people's problems, other people's broken lives. Back in the bad old days, when he'd been a cop, that's what he'd relied on his partner to do, to keep him level, keep his head in the game. Now there was no one to keep him from making a damn fool of himself.
He broke through the tree line at the far edge of the field. The Huron River bubbled a few yards ahead, the water running fast, the banks overflowing from the neverending rain. He began walking along it, well away from the bank, trusting his instincts to point him in the right direction. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for, only that he needed to find it.
Images flashed through Victor's mind, darkness and rain and blood. One second he'd be in the real world, the sun flickering over his face, and the next he'd be thrown back to that night when his world came crashing down on him. He could still feel his partner's blood thick on his hands.
Suddenly, over the rush of the river he heard branches breaking, footsteps coming up behind him. His whole body twitched and his hand jerked for thee butt of the gun he no longer regularly carried. He tried to even his breathing, to control his speeding heart. But a part of him was still stuck there in that night. He would never be free.
He spun around, muscles tense and on edge. Dana Scully stood a few feet behind him, arms raised, palms forward. “Hello Victor,” she greeted, voice deliberately light. He could see the readiness in her. She would put him down if she had to.
Tension drained out of Victor's shoulders and the past flickered away. He took a deep breath and rolled his neck, the pop of he tendons an old friend. He really hated the woods. “Oh, it's just you.”
“Nice to see you too,” Dana dead-panned. She glanced around, eyebrow raised. “Out for an afternoon stroll?”
“Something like that,” Victor responded, tone dry. He liked Dana, hell, she was one of the few people in the world he trusted, but he wasn't quite ready to look the fool in front of her.
Her eyebrow quirked higher. “Well, enjoy yourself. Unless, of course, you want to help me look for the missing Masters girl.”
He snorted and shook his head. He really should have guessed that they shared a common purpose. “So which member of the Masters family conned you into coming out here.”
A grin pricked at the corners of Dana's lips in response to his rueful tone. “Nikki Masters is in my Anatomy clinical.”
Victor nodded, mouth quirked. That was the thing he respected about Dana Scully, she needed the truth as badly as he did and she was willing to do anything to find it.
Together they moved further down the river, the distance between them gradually widening. Eventually Dana ended up down by the river while Victor strolled along the treeline, within spitting distance of the field's wide expanse. He was bent down, examining a piece of red fabric caught amongst the roots when her voice called him down to the river.
“Victor, come look at this!”
He stood and pushed through the undergrowth toward her voice. He found Dana crouched down, leaning slightly out over the water. She looked up, face set and serious. “I think we found it.”
Victor knelt into the wet leaves on the bank and let his line of sight follow the path marked by her outstretched finger. Below them a skeletal heel stuck out of the muck. The water bubbled around it, nature slowly exposing the hidden body.
Their eyes met. It was time to call this in.
~~~
comments at http://liptonrm.dreamwidth.org/32029.html.
dodger_sister had a dream that, when she recounted it the next day, we all thought it would make a delightful story. I have the privilege of being the only one off my rocker enough to attempt to tell it. I think I'm going to try this whole "posting things as a WIP" for a while so here's the first part.This doesn't have a title yet, the name on the draft is Codename: Hotass. It involves Victor Henricksen as a P.I., Dand Scully as a Professor/Forensic Scientist at a local college, and Dean Winchester and Calvin Reid as police detectives. I'm sure you can all guess why it's called Hotass. =D
Victor Henricksen stood at the edge of the field. The space glowed under the April sun, grass only now beginning to green after the winter cold. Trees lined the river bank, some misted with new spring growth but most still barren. Victor sighed and stepped onto turf still wet from the morning's rain. He didn't want to be here, knew that it was a dead end. The trail in the Meg Masters case had been cold for almost five years. But here he was, anyway, trudging across a field, getting mud on his cuffs, all because Sandra Masters had sat on the other side of his desk, tears in her eyes, asking him to look for her little girl in this one last place.
He'd say that he was turning into a sap, that P.I. work had worn the hard-boiled son of a bitch right out of him except he knew that wasn't true. He'd always been a sucker for a bad luck case, for the people whose lives got lost between the cracks in the system. He couldn't count the number of sleepless nights he'd had running through other people's problems, other people's broken lives. Back in the bad old days, when he'd been a cop, that's what he'd relied on his partner to do, to keep him level, keep his head in the game. Now there was no one to keep him from making a damn fool of himself.
He broke through the tree line at the far edge of the field. The Huron River bubbled a few yards ahead, the water running fast, the banks overflowing from the neverending rain. He began walking along it, well away from the bank, trusting his instincts to point him in the right direction. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for, only that he needed to find it.
Images flashed through Victor's mind, darkness and rain and blood. One second he'd be in the real world, the sun flickering over his face, and the next he'd be thrown back to that night when his world came crashing down on him. He could still feel his partner's blood thick on his hands.
Suddenly, over the rush of the river he heard branches breaking, footsteps coming up behind him. His whole body twitched and his hand jerked for thee butt of the gun he no longer regularly carried. He tried to even his breathing, to control his speeding heart. But a part of him was still stuck there in that night. He would never be free.
He spun around, muscles tense and on edge. Dana Scully stood a few feet behind him, arms raised, palms forward. “Hello Victor,” she greeted, voice deliberately light. He could see the readiness in her. She would put him down if she had to.
Tension drained out of Victor's shoulders and the past flickered away. He took a deep breath and rolled his neck, the pop of he tendons an old friend. He really hated the woods. “Oh, it's just you.”
“Nice to see you too,” Dana dead-panned. She glanced around, eyebrow raised. “Out for an afternoon stroll?”
“Something like that,” Victor responded, tone dry. He liked Dana, hell, she was one of the few people in the world he trusted, but he wasn't quite ready to look the fool in front of her.
Her eyebrow quirked higher. “Well, enjoy yourself. Unless, of course, you want to help me look for the missing Masters girl.”
He snorted and shook his head. He really should have guessed that they shared a common purpose. “So which member of the Masters family conned you into coming out here.”
A grin pricked at the corners of Dana's lips in response to his rueful tone. “Nikki Masters is in my Anatomy clinical.”
Victor nodded, mouth quirked. That was the thing he respected about Dana Scully, she needed the truth as badly as he did and she was willing to do anything to find it.
Together they moved further down the river, the distance between them gradually widening. Eventually Dana ended up down by the river while Victor strolled along the treeline, within spitting distance of the field's wide expanse. He was bent down, examining a piece of red fabric caught amongst the roots when her voice called him down to the river.
“Victor, come look at this!”
He stood and pushed through the undergrowth toward her voice. He found Dana crouched down, leaning slightly out over the water. She looked up, face set and serious. “I think we found it.”
Victor knelt into the wet leaves on the bank and let his line of sight follow the path marked by her outstretched finger. Below them a skeletal heel stuck out of the muck. The water bubbled around it, nature slowly exposing the hidden body.
Their eyes met. It was time to call this in.
~~~
