Echoes of Time [Whoniverse One-Shots][Closed] Read 13056 times


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Re: Echoes of Time [Whoniverse One-Shots][Closed]
« Reply #60 on: May 08, 2015, 05:52:15 pm »

Despite the fact that it was very likely that he’d get caught, and the fact the he couldn’t lie himself out of this one, Juls did not stop. What would they do to him? Humiliate him? That wasn’t possible, no matter how hard they had tried before. He’d laughed. Would they cut him off? That hadn’t worked before either. He got around just fine without them; he had friends. Ignore him? That would be a gift more than it would ever be a punishment.

He wanted them to ignore him.

“Fuckers,” he said under his breath, but it was completely inaudible. The loud rumble of the bright red motorbike underneath him drowned out any other sound. He turned a tight corner, his foot grazing the pavement as he dashed forward and his pastel pink hair whipping behind him.

Juls zigged and zagged around the cars, running past yellow lights and honking at civilians in his way. He told himself that he wasn’t being aggressive because he’d gotten upset that morning, confronted. It was probably just because he was feeling particularly adventurous, right? It didn’t matter that his parents refused to listen, and it didn’t matter that he had stopped trying to talk to them anymore. When at long last he came to the parkway of his high school, he sped up, spun, and park in a spot that was clearly not his own.

The pink-haired boy jumped off of the bike swiftly. The sound of the tires’ screech had announced his arrival to everyone else. He kicked the bike to stand up while he fetched the stand that was strapped to its side. The students from outside the classrooms looked to him with a queer eye, and Juls couldn’t really care less. After a few seconds of trying to make the stand hold the bike, he got frustrated and kicked the thing again, toppling it over.

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a pair of perfectly round and large sunglasses. He put them on with an angered smile as the morning sun shone down on him to reveal a striped black and white loose shirt, partly covering his too-tight blue jeans. Black leather boots covered the bottom of his jeans, and the laces were only loosely tied. Before walking into the high school’s gates, Juls ran his fingers through his pink partly-shaven hair and pulled the middle finger behind him.

Clearly, it was meant to someone who was not there.

He walked through the gates and approached the closest person to him. A woman, probably a teacher of the school. “Where is the front office, mate? I need my schedule.”

The woman couldn’t say anything, as she was completely stunned by this strange young man. Instead, she only pointed to one of the larger buildings in the campus. Everyone else also looked to him without speaking, some of them tried to stifle laughs.

“Great, thanks.”

Juls gave the woman a playful tap of the shoulder before going on his merry way, and this inspired more laughter from the students behind her. Sadly, the sound of sirens made him stop in his tracks, and it hushed the laughs immediately. Juls groaned and rolled his eyes, going into the front office anyway. If they’d find him, then he would deal with it. If not, then good. The get this one for free.

Apparently the news of his arrival traveled fast, as the people behind the front desk looked at him as if they were almost scared of him. It was entirely laughable. He wasn’t dangerous, he was just mad. Couldn’t they see that? One girl didn’t seem scared, she seemed curious about what he wanted – the one with the pastel blue sweater and short brown hair. There was no time for him to even approach the front desk, compliment the sweater, or even speak, for the policemen soon spotted him through the glass double doors. They signaled to the staff to stay put, motioning for them to also stay quiet. The sirens hinted that the cars were parked by the bike out by the parking lot.

“Well, I guess I can pick up my schedule later.” After a small detour. He smiled to them before turning.

“Wicked glasses,” said the girl as the policemen entered.

They cuffed him familiarly, as if this had happened before and they knew exactly who Juls was.

“I know,” said Juls as they took him away, and he didn’t look back.

« Last Edit: May 08, 2015, 05:53:30 pm by Bleu »

Krystal Itzume

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Re: Echoes of Time [Whoniverse One-Shots][Closed]
« Reply #61 on: June 05, 2015, 09:29:30 am »
Fucked Up

click for music

Smoke lifted from the end of a cigarette. The ashes on it were long, about to fall off, as Aeron Harper sat in a leather chair and looked at the mess on the satin sheets.

The woman had black hair. He didn’t remember the color of her eyes, but in the night it hadn’t mattered. They could be whatever he wanted them to be.

So, Aeron imagined they were green, and he allowed a chuckle to come to the surface. He flicked the ash off his cigarette as he idly wondered how he was going to explain this to Setsuna, who was growing increasingly agitated with these murders he was committing.
‘You don’t even smoke, Aeron.’ He tossed the cigarette and crushed it into the carpet with his bare foot.

He tried to see this through Setsuna’s eyes.

How would he react if Arthur was committing murder of strange women who looked like a fiancé that fucked him over?
‘Well, I’d understand.’ And tell him to grow up.

Aeron’s head hit the back of the leather chair and he pushed his hands back through his brunette hair.
“Damn it,” he exhaled.

Four years, and he was still acting out whenever he got the chance. Oh yes, he could cover this up and make it vanish, but he knew that he was playing with fire by killing these girls. Some day, UNIT or Torchwood would get on the case, and then he’d have problems.
‘You have to stop.’

“How?” He asked aloud, and let his tongue find the drop of blood that had been bothering him, still on his cheek.

How and why?

Soon enough he’d figure out how to punch through this dimension and into the next. Soon enough, he’d have the tools to rule over both, to go beyond Arthur’s dreams of just leaving this universe behind. No, he’d rule them. He’d rule all of them. He had the tools Torchwood abandoned, and he would soon have everything that UNIT had.

His hand fell to the arm of the chair, and his eyes returned to the girl.
‘Because if you don’t, you might make one wrong move. You chastised Arthur for being too arrogant. It is your flaw, too. Remember Maya? Remember when nothing could go wrong?’

“I can do more than just leave.”

Her threat had proven true, though he had doubted her.

He’d blame her for this, but he knew the actions were his. He got to his feet and walked to the sheets. He pulled the limp body towards him, and saw that her eyes were brown. Her skin was darker than Maya’s—in fact, he was starting to think she must be Indian as he examined her.

‘Well, Maya’s name was Indian.’

Britain stole a lot from India.

For once in a very long time, Aeron felt something like disgust with himself. The woman wore a look of horror on her face. She’d realized what was going on in spite of the pleasure, and she’d fought him.

Needless to say, that didn’t go well for her. He did more than just drain her. The woman’s body was a showcase of his ability to lacerate the flesh. He’d gagged her with his own tie and other articles of clothing that had been close enough. As he picked them out of her mouth, he could see the bits of vomit that truly choked her sticking to the articles, and it caused him to toss them away and then turn away.

He dialed Setsuna’s number.

“What is it?” Setsuna hated getting calls at this hour.

“I…,” confession was on his lips, and then destroyed, “you haven’t gotten me any more information on Harkness, have you?” Aeron would deal with this problem himself.

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Re: Echoes of Time [Whoniverse One-Shots][Closed]
« Reply #62 on: June 05, 2015, 10:44:04 am »
How To Be Free

‘I want to go back.’

A thousand times, Maya had thought that. Today, she'd figured out that wasn't quite true.

That day, she’d erupted in an argument with Angelus and swore she was moving out before locking herself in her room to pack. That wasn’t at all what she did, though. She slipped out her window, despite the fact they did not live on the base floor of the apartment complex.

It had not been smart to wear heels, Maya realized when she reached the ground, but she didn’t care now.

Her phone buzzed to life, and she glanced down to see it said ‘Angelus’.

Again and again it would buzz, too, until Maya decided to just turn it off and spare Angelus the agony of waiting to go to voicemail. That happened just a little bit before she walked into a new bar. She couldn’t go where John was, or where any familiar faces would be. She did walk into a venue she’d been avoiding.

It was one of those classy piano lounges. She fit in well, black gown and all, and she walked right up to the counter and ordered herself a red wine.

Some confrontations and some demons had to be fought without the assistance of others. She had been avoiding many of the things that she liked not only because they reminded her of her past, but also because her friends weren’t the sort to go to places like this. Angelus couldn’t be dragged in her, and though Juls would come, his personality wouldn’t allow him to blend in.

“Thank you,”
she said when the wine was delivered, and she brought it to her lips, “Do you mind if I play the piano for a bit?” She inquired. It was too early in the day, it seemed, for anyone to be at the instrument.

“Can you play?”
The bartender sounded appropriately wary. No doubt he’d had problems before.

Maya didn’t allow a beat of hesitation. The civic theater had a piano she’d been using to practice on and maintain her skills, but it wasn’t the same as playing before a crowd.

“Well…all right, but if anyone complains you’ll have to stop,”
he said. Maya gave a nod of understanding, but didn’t think anyone would. She took her glass with her to the piano, and lifted the cover over the keys. Her fingers ran over the whites and blacks.

‘No, it isn’t back I want to go. I just….’
She set the wine aside. She took a seat on the bench, and let her finger find the first key.

It rang out, and trembled in the air. It decided the first song, as her fingers immediately dove into a familiar song, playing by ear and memory one of those old, classic tunes. Brahm, of course.


No one complained. Maya stayed much longer than just one song, and each one made her forget Angelus more and more. Each one almost made it feel like she’d never left London, but the negative memories washed away in the melodies that poured from her fingers. She was rewriting the night in the piano lounge, when she’d met Aeron.

She was rewriting it as if she never met him, and restarting.

‘I want what’s mine.’

It was a gasp in her throat, a beat in her heart, that told her this was her, as much as the raves were her. There was a balance to strike between them, and a decision to make—but the decision could be put off for years.

By the time she left the lounge, she was asked by the manager for her number to be contacted in the future, in case they needed her to play the piano. She willingly gave it, and then made her way to a bar she was more familiar with. Of course, with her fight forgotten, she never considered that John would rat her out to Angelus during that wonderful karaoke night. All she knew was that she wanted on that stage and in the spotlight.

‘A decision for later.’
Maya reminded as she picked a song from the list. ‘Right now, I can just enjoy local fame.’ Greater fame, she’d consider, when she wasn’t so afraid of the attention it would bring.

That day would come.

That day would have to come.

Until then, though, she’d find that perfect balance.

And she’d remember to call Angelus back so he didn’t end up storming into the bar just as her song came on.

“Sometimes I feel I've got to
Run away, I've got to
Get away from the pain you drove into the heart of me.”

Angelus’s gaze turned right towards the stage, hearing her voice, and he glared. He was met with a wide, cocky smile.

“The love we share
Seems to go nowhere
And I've lost my light.
For I toss and turn,
I can't sleep at night!”

Maya had a bit of explaining to do, she suspected, but she would do that after the song. Angelus had found her, and he’d be content to sit. He looked torn between being furious and apologetic, at least.

“Once I ran to you,
Now I run from you.
This tainted love you've given,
Give you all a girl could give you
Take my tears and that's not nearly all!”

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Re: Echoes of Time [Whoniverse One-Shots][Closed]
« Reply #63 on: July 08, 2015, 02:13:30 am »
Sharing is Caring

“Everybody ‘round me sayin’ I should relax
‘Cause I’ve been going hard till my eyes roll backwards
All I wanna do is forget about my past and smoke a little weed
Really, nothing too drastic.”

Aeron couldn’t help but be a little amused at the scene he found himself in, tie loose, jacket unbuttoned. Setsuna had dragged him here, said it was ‘upscale’, but the song Setsuna was singing told another story.

It was where Setsuna hunted, or so he said. Aeron could see why. The clientele of the club were more or less elites, heirs rather than owners, wrapped up in nihilistic hedonism. Drugs moved around Aeron, but he declined partaking.

Setsuna’s influence flowed freely.

“Shoutout to the ones who spend money like a habit!
Even if they had a million dollars they’d be trapping.
Gotta a couple girls shooting movies on the mattress,
Then I hit the booth, make the motherfucking soundtrack,”

Men and women alike were caught in the spell. It wasn’t that Setsuna’s voice was good—Aeron wouldn’t call it that—but the soul in it, that decadent aristocrat, promised them all wonders if they worshipped appropriately. So people swayed, stared adoringly, smiled.

‘What was it you quoted me? Power is power.’ From some TV show Setsuna was watching, said by some Lion Queen. Everyone had their scene and their power. He hadn’t expected this to be Setsuna’s.

Someone jarred him, and Aeron quickly shot a glare at the offending woman who spilled her drink on his sleeve.
“I—I’m sorry, let me,” she reached for napkin and reached to wipe Aeron’s sleeve off, but he slapped her hand away.


The blonde stepped back. It looked like she might run, the illusion of humanity before her briefly broken. Prey knew predator.

She didn’t run, though. She left quickly, and Aeron went back to observing the way Setsuna drew in others, up until the song ended and he all but jumped from the small stage and into the gathered crowd. He laughed and he joked with a few who were clearly regulars here, before latching on to one red-head and taking her aside, taking her back to where Aeron was.

“And this is Aeron, my friend,”
Setsuna introduced, poorly. Aeron arched an eyebrow at the casualness of the introduction. Before Setsuna could continue, Aeron spoke.

“His boss, actually,”
he extended his hand to the red-head, “Setsuna didn’t mention you when he told me of this place. Aeron Harper,” as she locked eyes with him, Aeron made sure to hold her gaze, letting her sink. Her body leaned away from Setsuna’s arm around her waist, “What’s your name?” He really couldn’t care less.

“Charlotte, but everyone calls me Lottie. Lottie Parks.” She looked to Setsuna, “You’ve always said your boss was a jerk, Setsuna!” It was clear teasing, a half-joke as she imagined Aeron wasn't, in fact, a jerk. 

Aeron dropped Lottie’s hand, and chuckled,
“Setsuna and I have our issues, but they’re more personal than professional,” with the hand that had held Lottie’s, he reached out to brush Setsuna’s chin with his finger, eyes locking with Setsuna. The poor boy was susceptible to him, the way Aeron had once been susceptible to Arthur. “He would prefer to be my, ah, top man as you might say.”

The woman’s cheeks went scarlet under the implication, and the images that played in her head as Aeron’s finger brushed Setsuna’s own,
“But he’s never had any complaints working under me.”

Setsuna was flush. He’d found Aeron attractive since day one, but he knew quite well Aeron didn’t feel the same way. He was playing a game. Logically, Setsuna knew this, but he found hope kept his mouth shut against a joke to defuse the situation. Aeron’s eyes moved back to Lottie,
“What is it you do, Lottie?” Aeron’s hand fell from Setsuna’s face to brush his jacket, before resuming its place at Aeron’s side.

“I, um, my father, he's into the oil business,”
she answered, the images wreaking havoc on her ability to speak. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you two were—”

“Oh, we’re not opposed to sharing. Your father is into the oil business, you say?”
He glanced to Setsuna, “Is that where you’ve been getting all that baby oil lately?”

Lottie’s cheeks went a furious red to match her hair.
“It isn’t that sort of oil, Aeron,” he purred, not realizing he was playing into the game.

“N-no, it’s more the kind that goes in cars,”
she offered. Rich heirs and heiresses, all of them. She allowed herself to be forward and asked, “So, ah, you two don’t mind sharing?” She glanced between them, and Setsuna nodded his agreement with the statement, only after Aeron nodded.

Of course Setsuna didn't mind sharing! He would enjoy being with both Aeron and Lottie. He couldn't even believe his ears.

Aeron leaned towards him, placing a hand lightly on Setsuna’s shoulder, thumb touching his neck. He allowed it to caress that sensitive spot as he spoke,
“I’m glad you agree,” he spoke with little room between them, then shoved Setsuna backwards with enough force to make him take two steps back. He offered a hand to Lottie, “Shall we?”

She accepted, clearly not registering what had just happened. She was too wrapped up in Aeron to care. If she had looked back, she would have seen Setsuna’s once happy expression darken in pure malice as Aeron left the club with Lottie.
“Son of a bitch.” Setsuna cursed him, then took a deep breath and tried to compose himself and his own racing heart.

Every. Single. Time.

He had to stop hunting with Aeron. That, or only draw men. Aeron would never take them up.

Someone dared to compliment,
“Man, you’re a generous wingman. Lottie's a freak!”

Setsuna nearly threw the cup of a stranger at them.

The night's too long
I took too much
And I've gone too far
And I might not make it
I might not make it
This time, I might not make it.
« Last Edit: July 08, 2015, 02:14:32 am by Krystal Itzume »

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Re: Echoes of Time [Whoniverse One-Shots][Closed]
« Reply #64 on: July 10, 2015, 08:43:38 pm »

Angelus did not like this job all that much. He considered it unforgiving, but the pay was good. Good enough to get him out from under his mother’s roof, and that was all he really wanted. The bass in the club was hitting hard as he stood at the door, his hair long and put back in a ponytail.

The club had strict rules, but Angelus had talked them out of forcing him to wear a tie. Instead, he wore a nice, black button up and black slacks, with tennis shoes rather than dress shoes. He had to present a professional image, since the club deluded itself into being high-class.

It was Ange’s job to keep the unsavory people out, as well as minors, and people already far too drunk. That usually meant he had people bitching at him all night.

‘But the pay is good.’

Some underage woman was bitching him out presently. Sixteen with the mouth of a sailor, and the drug addiction of a Hollywood star. She had tried to seduce him to get in, but he had still said no.
“…I eat meals that pay more than you’ll make in a year. I know the owner of this club and oh, I can have you so fired if you don’t let me in,” she’d been ranting like that for a while. Angelus lifted his eyes above her head and spotted a regular he knew. He motioned him to come forward, and the man did, passing Angelus a sympathetic look as the teenager gasped.

“Sorry mate,” he muttered as he paid the cover in cash. Angelus hid it away smoothly, rolled his eyes in response.

Roared the indignant woman as the man walked easily by Angelus. She tried to walk by, but Angelus moved and caught her on his arm.

“I’m sorry, miss, your ID was obviously fake. I can’t let you in.”

She tried to kick him, but he deflected it with a tilt of his own leg. He lightly pushed her back, but she made an elaborate show of tripping over own legs, and then yelling at him about how seriously injured she was. Her ankle was so, totally, broken
. “You should go to the hospital then. I’ll call them for you,” he reached for his phone to do so.

That straightened her out quickly. She hopped to her feet without so much as a limp, and then off she went to rage elsewhere. Angelus put the phone away.
‘Fucking idiots.’

The hours ticked on in much the same way, until he heard the beginnings of a commotion in the club. He glanced in, and noticed that regular leaning against the bar counter, and leaning far away from someone who looked quite irate. Angelus groaned,
“Hold on,” he muttered to the crowd outside. He walked in, locking the door behind him. It would let people out, but it wouldn’t let them in. There was someone inside who gave Angelus a nod, one of the attendants. They’d watch the door in his stead.

He spoke just before moving between the two,
“What’s the problem here?” Though he’d heard some of the slurred speech from the non-regular.

“This,” the man started, “this son of a bitch,” he pointed back towards the regular, “he stole my girl. He fuckin’ denies it.”

Angelus glanced to the regular. There was no girl around.
“I don’t even know who he is.” He stated plainly, “He has me confused with someone else.”


Of course, the regular shook his head. Bradley was not his name,
“I’m not even seeing anyone!” He insisted.

“Oh, oh is that all she was, some…some hit it and quit it? She was everything to me, man!”

Angelus frowned,
“Look, sir, I think you have the wrong person. Let’s get you outside, and—”

“No! He took my Cassandra, and the bastard is gonna fucking pay.”

“I cannot allow that. This man isn’t Bradley, his name’s Je—”

The stranger squinted his eyes,
“Oh, oh I get it. You’re in this together, aren’t you?”

“No, I am not, I’ve—”

“Well fuck you, too!”

The regular moved as the stranger decided to grab an empty bottle nearby, and fling it. It struck Angelus’s head, breaking and cutting open his forehead and the top of his head.

Angelus knew drunks were often unreasonable, but the move still took him by surprise—mostly because the aim was on point. There was a collective gasp as Angelus took a step back, into the counter. He threw a hand back to steady himself as blood dripped into his eyes.
“What do you think now, you think you wanna get in my way, you pussy?”

When Angelus smiled, no one dared to step forward to find out if he was okay. Angelus moved a hand up through his hair, and listened as the glass shards fell to the ground and counter.

“You fucked up,” someone in the crowd said, right before Angelus moved.

The belligerent stranger knew that in a heartbeat. Angelus put an elbow into his jaw, hard and fast. Blood spilled almost immediately, lip breaking open, nose cracking. He wasn’t allowed to step back, as Angelus reached around and grabbed the back of his head.

He brought the man’s head down on his own knee, then wrenched the head up before kicking out and slamming his foot into the man’s groin.

Needless to say, the man toppled backwards over a table, spilling glass upon himself as he slipped to the floor. He was out cold.

“Fuck!” Someone cried out.

Angelus was certain he was out of a job for this, and looked back towards the regular,
“Don’t suppose you could give me a lift to the hospital, do you?”

The regular chuckled, a bit nervously, and set his drink down,
“Yeah, I can,” he saw how badly Angelus was bleeding.

Later that night, as Angelus was getting stitched up in the hospital, his boss showed up to pay the bill and reassure Angelus everything was fine. He was told to take the next night off, though.


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Re: Echoes of Time [Whoniverse One-Shots][Closed]
« Reply #65 on: August 19, 2015, 05:43:39 pm »
Dropping Bagels Part 1

“Agent King, your husband has been arrested.”

Regina King, who was reading a debriefing report while leaning on her desk, dropped the afternoon bagel she was holding and looked up to her supervising officer. Her bright brown eyes showed a brief moment of confusion, but fellow agent Torres, who had only broken eye contact with her to notice the plain bagel littering the floor, did not give any room for doubt with his expression.

“Why? What did he do?” Agent King’s first instinct was to challenge what was surely some form of practical joke, but the agent inside her seemed to want to take the professional approach. This simply could have been because she was at work, and her mindset was already in motion. 

“We don’t know yet. He’s being held in an interrogation room.”

Agent King’s eyes widened in shock, and her hand showed the slightest twitch.

“This is ridiculous,” she said after a few moments of awkward silence, “Beckett is a middle-school teacher. He teaches grammar. What could he have done to get arrested, Torres?” There was more silence from agent Torres, and so King continued. “Where is he, exactly?”

“The Connolly Interrogation Room,” said Torres briskly, “a team brought him in a few minutes ago.”

“You mean he was arrested by us?” Agent King could no longer contain her confusion, shaking her head and crossing her arms. That CIA office was not in the business of arresting teachers, or anyone, so this made no sense at all.

It didn’t take agent King long at all for her to realize that she would only get answers by speaking with her husband. She gave agent Torres only a brief look before she walked out of her office at an intimidating pace. Luckily, the other agents around her didn’t seem to think that this was unusual behavior.

Torres followed closely behind her. “Clean up that bagel,” he said to a passing intern and was gone before there could be any query.
A few minutes later, and after some initial struggle, agent King managed to argue her way into the interrogation room where Beckett was being kept. When she entered, her expression softened slightly to reveal that aside from confusion, King also felt deep concern. Just looking at Beckett seemed to brighten the woman's expression.

“What is this about?”

Beckett was sitting calmly in his chair, both of his handcuffed hands – dirty and scratched – were resting on the metal table before him. He looked to King and offered an apologetic smile. He was wearing the same clothes he wore that morning when they shared breakfast, except now they were dirty and worn, a scattered tear here and there. There were no visible injuries on his body, but his untidy hair suggested that he hadn’t really gone to work that day.

“You’re going to have to let me go, baby,” said Beckett in a perfect American accent, sounding apologetic. “I was doing y’all a favor, and somehow things got complicated.”

Agent King moved towards the chair and sat across from Beckett, her almond-colored ponytail resting over her shoulder as she did. She stretched out her hands towards Beckett’s, an invitation for him to take them in his.

“Agent King,” warned Agent Torres, who King had not noticed had also gone into the room.

“He’s my husband, Torres. He's not going to hurt me.” King snapped, giving him a side glare before turning to Beckett. “Beckett, just tell me what you’ve done, honey. I know you must be scared, but we’ll find a way to overlook this somehow. I don't want you to worry.”

Torres didn’t voice his disapproval right then.

Beckett took his wife’s hands in his and sighed. “Baby, I need you to do me a favor.”

“You need to tell me what happened, Beckett,” King insisted, her voice carrying both concern and the unmistakable need for an explanation. “You can tell me.”

“Listen to me. There is a file, V9-1989, upstairs in one of your manuscript libraries. Probably in the library that only a few people know of, the one I know you have clearance for. I need you to bring it to me as soon as you can.”

Agent King straightened up, withdrawing her hands and giving Beckett a very suspicious look. Clearly this had not been a subject they had discussed before. “How do you know about that, Beckett?” Her tone of voice suggested that this was highly confidential intelligence. She was the only person with the clearance to reach those files.

“Agent King,” warned Torres again, this time more forcefully.

“Shut the fuck up, Torres,” said King, turning back to Beckett as Torres left the room, his hand reaching for his ear as if he was being called. “Answer me, Beckett.”

“I need the file, Regina.”


“To protect you.”

There was another moment of silence. “What did Beckett have with him?” Regina turned to glance at the mirror behind her, and surely the group of agents studying them from behind.

“An unidentified wristband and a stake,” said the intercom.

Before anything else could be asked, the door to the interrogation room flew open and a short, albeit stern and intimidating, older woman marched in. She was wearing a gray suit and a glare that could turn people to stone. Two men followed suit, prompting agent King to rise and greet them appropriately. It was quite obvious that this woman was way higher in the jurisdiction of the CIA. She was not to be trifled with.

“Agent King,” she greeted seriously, “I’ll have the room, please.”

“Permission to stay, Director Avery?”

“Granted, but do so at your own risk, King,” once agent King stepped to the side, Avery took a seat and looked to Beckett, who was simply sitting there without saying anything. One of the men that followed Avery inside placed a folder in front of her. “Mr. Damon,” began she, flipping through the pages of the surprisingly thin file. Avery only had the man’s legal name, and that was just because he had recently gotten married. “Do you want to tell me what you were doing in Boston earlier today?”

“Boston?” Agent King could not believe her ears. "What the hell were you doing in Boston?"

“I was shopping,” said Beckett casually.

Avery’s expression did not change. “Shopping for what?”

“Dead meat,” he offered a smile, one Avery did not return.

“What do you want with file V9-1989?”

“I want to read it, clearly.”

“Please spare me your games, Mr. Damon. You visited the Boston office this morning, hacked the security system, and set up arbitrary clearance under the name Reginald King, an agent of this office who has clearance for all V files. You injured two of my agents in the process. So tell me, what do you want with that file?”

Beckett’s face grew serious.

“Mr. Damon, I urge you to cooperate. What do you want with that file?”

“I want to see how the subject in that case died,” Beckett’s expression was now completely blank, and he was speaking in an English accent.

Agent King began to only then realize that she had been a pawn, a small tool that was a singular part of a much bigger plan. Had it all been a lie? Looking at Beckett now, he seemed like a completely different person.
Beckett was no longer the man that made her breakfast every morning. He wasn’t the man that had insisted on getting a cat because they needed a new chapter in their relationship, the man that couldn’t sleep without the ceiling fan on, the man that liked flour fights when they baked on the weekends, or the man that couldn’t stand going through his meal without first calling her.

Beckett was not the man that Regina King had married. Had it all been a lie?

Avery did not seem so surprised.

“Who are you, Mr. Damon?”

Beckett’s eyes followed a quietly weeping agent King as she exited the room.

“I am literally nobody.”

“Do you think you’re clever, Mr. Damon?”

The man shrugged. From somewhere inside his mouth, Beckett had pulled a small black object – a box that wasn’t bigger than the eraser of a school pencil. The agents inside the room were immediately alarmed with this unusual behavior, reaching for their weapons and taking a few steps back. Holding the small black object with his teeth, Beckett gave them all a wide grin.

Just before anyone could do anything else, Beckett bit into the small black box between his teeth, and a massive electromagnetic pulse made the whole place go dark.

“I think am quite clever.”

Krystal Itzume

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Re: Echoes of Time [Whoniverse One-Shots][Closed]
« Reply #66 on: October 04, 2015, 07:07:38 am »
What Does The Fox Say?

Angelus couldn’t help but shake his head a little as he walked into the chaos that was the civic theater. He was used to it, of course, but this chaos was different. It had decided to convert The Devil’s Carnival to the stage, and needless to say, all the fans of the film dressed up—as they did for Rocky Horror. The outfits were bizarre and demented.

Angelus was the most normal looking person there, in his hoodie and jeans, as he sought out Maya. The play had ended that night, and he didn’t want her walking home alone in her costume, as he knew she would. It wasn’t difficult to find her—she and “Lucifer” were putting on a bit of an encore together. The circle of people made it obvious where Maya was.

He stayed back, though, to watch as Lucifer put one of the audience members through his own game. He was one of those in the improv show, though Angelus couldn’t remember his name despite seeing him so often.

“You say you are more clever than I?”
Lucifer was saying, and he took a knowing glance to the Painted Doll, who’s expression was impassive except for a glint in her eyes, and the posturing of her eyebrows as she came up behind Lucifer and let her fingers trail his shoulders, before those heterochromatic eyes turned to the audience-member with the horns. “Doll, do you know the story of the Fox and the Cat?”

She gave two nods of her head, a thoughtful expression on her face. Maya did know it; she’d started to voraciously read Aesop’s fables when she got the role for this play.

“Once upon a time,”
Lucifer spoke to the clever one, as Painted Doll stepped aside, only to retrieve the violin she’d brought with her. “A cat and a fox were conversing together, and the fox was boasting of its cleverness to the cat.”

Angelus glanced to Maya as he heard the violin’s strings come to life. He was actually rather impressed when he saw one of the other actresses—the one he knew played the ‘greedy’ woman—was playfully pushed into the area. She looked about, confused, and started to examine her hands, then turned herself around as Lucifer continued speaking.

“The fox was saying how it had a hundred ways to escape from harm,”
the actor of Scorpion was brought forth, to laughter from all the gathered and a wry smile from Doll.

He puffed himself up like the arrogant fox, and began to speak, following the cue given from Lucifer. He took Greedy’s arm in his and started to walk a bit, as if the pair were having a nice stroll,
“And you see those walls? I could jump those to escape if I needed to, or I could dig right under them. Why, I could even blow a hole through it to escape, go around it—the ways to escape any situation are endless, and I know them all!”

Lucifer spoke,
“But the cat was not impressed with this.”

Greedy stroked the leather jacket of Scorpion to say,
“I do not need so many methods.”

She didn’t know the story as well, and Lucifer caught on to that,
“For you see, the cat had but one way of escape.”

Scorpion put on a smug little smirk at that.
“Before either could debate this matter further, the sound of hounds reached them.”

The music, which had been tame and pleasant, suddenly changed to indicate the threat presented. Someone barked, and giggles broke out. There was someone recording it all as Maya swayed and moved about with the violin, never speaking, only watching.
“The cat, hearing the hounds, raced up a tree to escape them.”

Greedy saw Angelus, and ran over to him immediately, and whispered,
“Let me up.”

Though Angelus wanted no part of this, he couldn’t deny her, and so he helped her up onto one of his shoulders and he walked in with her sitting on one of his shoulders to the center of the circle that the crowd had created.

“The fox, however, considered all of his options. Should he climb the tree, too?”

Maya was behind Scorpion then, leaning against his back. She moved with his movements, a twisted grin on her lips as he debated options.

“No, that would make it look like I was copying her,” Scorpion denied.

“Should he dig a way under the wall?”

“No, the dogs could follow.”

“Should he run around the wall?”

“No, the dogs are faster.”

“Should he hide in the bushes?”

“No, the dogs—”

“And then!”
A clap of his hands, as if Lucifer were shutting a book. Maya spun away, “the dogs were upon him. Fox’s hundreds and hundreds of ideas made him too slow to act, and so he was ripped apart by the hounds.”

The actors who played the Hobo Clown and Twin rushed forward and tackled Scorpion to the ground, to laughter from the trio of them as he collided on his back.
“And so you see, my dear, clever little friend,” Lucifer clapped a hand upon the back of the audience member, “You might be more clever than me, but,” he grinned widely, unkindly, “I know what works.”

Greedy tapped Angelus’s head, and he glanced up.
“Down now?”

He nodded, and took to his knees to let her easily down. She slid off and smiled,
“Thanks, Porter!” She didn’t know his name, either, just that he was Maya’s long-suffering brother.

And then more laughter erupted as the song Maya was strumming became familiar. It was odd to hear it on a violin, but when someone added in clapping, and Scorpion began to sing, Angelus groaned. Everyone joined Scorpion in singing, too.

“What does the fox say?”

Angelus wasn’t getting out of here early, it seemed. The after party for this show, and for Rocky Horror, was ridiculous. And all through it, Maya was always silent, just like Painted Doll herself. She’d started bringing her violin along because of that.

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Re: Echoes of Time [Whoniverse One-Shots][Closed]
« Reply #67 on: November 11, 2015, 04:58:22 am »
The First Time

“But somehow I can see just exactly how I’d be if I loved you.”

Maya could hear Devlin singing, practicing for the show, as she walked down the hall of the civic theater. She knew he would be here early. He was always here early. He had only joined a year ago, but already Maya knew him well.

He had said he could dance.

“Time and again I would try to say all I’d want you to know, if I lov—”
Devlin cut himself off as he heard the door open to the stage room. “Oh, it’s just you,” fifteen and fourteen. Some had already decided the two were young lovers. Devlin put on a bright smile for her, “What’s up, Maya?”

“You said you could dance,”
Maya said, reaching the stage and climbing up onto it. He put a hand on his hip.

“So did you.” He said, “What of it?” Maya walked to the boombox that was ever present, though no one knew why. She knelt down besides it and took a CD from within the denim jacket she wore, then tossed the jacket aside.

“I want you to prove it.” Maya stated as she shut the CD into the boombox.

Devlin canted his head.

“Because I don’t want do ballet and solo dances for the rest of my life.”
Angelus was an unsuitable partner. She’d tried to teach him, but the boy just wouldn’t learn, and she had no one else. “So what do you do? How long?”

Devlin was clearly taken aback by the intensity in her green eyes, but he regrouped, smiled, and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I’ve been professionally enrolled in dance classes since I was in the first grade. Swing dance, line dance, popping styles, salsa, rumba, tango, and ballroom.” He could see she was impressed, “Well, what’s your resume?”

“Ballet, tap, ballroom, tango, and argentine tango…professionally. I’ve got a lot of dance videos at home of different styles my mom won’t let me take classes in,”
her eyes averted down, “it’s hard to do the pair dances without a good partner, though.” And so her eyes came right back up to him. “You don’t have a partner either, right?”

“Yeah, but…why?”

“There’s dance competitions. I might want to be a professional, and I need to win competitions to do that.”

“Touche. Press play.”

Maya gave a nod,
“One rule.”


“You can’t mimic what you’ve seen before.”

“Deal. You have to follow one rule.”
He didn’t wait for her to ask what it was. “Trust me. That’s all.”

With a nod, it was decided, and Maya hit play. 


Neither of them had any idea that the song which came from those speakers would come to mean so much to the pair of them. Devlin knew it instantly and he smiled at the choice.

Maya approached, heels clicking with each step, and Devlin listened to the beat—watched her posture, and took his moment. He grabbed her arm, and brought her around to face him. There were a few seconds of posturing, of establishing their roles as Roxanne and her Lover, and then Devlin brought Maya back to him, back against his chest, and his head near her neck as his hands ran up her side.

If there was going to be mistrust or hesitation, it would have been there. Two teens in puberty would, after all, get awkward about such a thing.

Yet, they were two teens, in puberty, who were extremely good actors. There was the tension, but it was the tension that the dance needed as the beat truly started to get going, and Devlin lifted Maya’s arms up and with a guiding gesture, pushed her away.

He took the lead, hand to shoulder, turning her as he needed her, spinning her, and even grazing her neck with his hand. He could have easily grasped too hard, or been too rough, and hurt her, but Maya followed along expertly.

He did not need to use such a strong hand; Maya could bear her own weight, and he was astonished by it. So many of the girls he had danced with didn’t realize that was how it was meant to be. The guy was there for balance, not to hold the woman up, most of the time.

The dance became more of a tango than an argentine tango, as Devlin didn’t know that style well, but the movements were far looser than a standard tango. They were not as sharp, evidence of Devlin’s history in hip-hop and liquid styles, so-termed ‘popping’.

Maya was the more rigid one, but she made it fit the role, the act, of the woman ‘caught’ and ‘afraid’.

As Ewan sung, Devlin put Maya to another test, convincing her to lean into him and be pulled along with him, which she did fantastically. She was reading his gestures and needs without words passing between them, both on the same frequency for the dance.

When it ended, with him kneeling and Maya looking up at him, head above his knee, he found he was nearly out of breath. He hadn’t realized it until just then. With a push forward, and the slap of two hands on the wood of the stage, he rose to his feet and let out a deep breath as the CD rolled into another song.
“Maya, Maya, Maya,” he said with a shake of his head, as she got back to her feet and turned around to face him. “What do you know…you do dance. Well. Prodigically.”

“That’s not a word.” She stated as she got back to her feet, a bit unsteady now on the heels, some of the mask worn away.

“Planning to be a triple threat one day?”
She gave a nod. Devlin already knew she was musically inclined, and of course, he knew she acted. “Why?”


Devlin nodded, and he did not elaborate. Maya seemed to be waiting for that, but when it didn’t come, she frowned.
“Because I…I like these things.”

“Which best?”

“Acting,” no question. “I…I chose that one.”

His expression softened. He didn’t ask anything further, but felt then she might not back out on him or disappear. She wasn’t lying, though he’d thought she might be, driven by the whip of parents. Devlin’s disapproved of his hobbies, but he did it anyway.
“All right. We can be partners then.” Her eyes lit up, “You have to come with me to get classes for the Argentine though, okay?”


« Last Edit: November 11, 2015, 05:27:57 am by Krystal Itzume »

Krystal Itzume

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Re: Echoes of Time [Whoniverse One-Shots][Closed]
« Reply #68 on: December 13, 2015, 03:54:53 am »
The Cub and the Drake

Maya was humming when Devlin came up to her, sitting by the piano and dancing her fingers over the keys without pressing them.

“What’s that song?”

Maya jumped, fingers pressing down keys in a clatter of noise as Devlin came to a pause. A smile alighted on his lips, quick and apologetic,
“Sorry,” his hands lifted in apology, “I didn’t realize you were thinking. What song is that?”

“No song yet,”
Maya said, “My brother just got through the battle of Blackwater,” Devlin grinned wickedly, “He didn’t appreciate my addition to the Rains of Castamere, but I realized after I added it, that I don’t know how the song goes.”

“Huh? Everyone knows—”

“The melody,”
she emphasized, and let her fingers move over the keys. Softly, her voice added to the sounds, “And who are you, the proud lord said….” An incomplete thought, an incomplete song. “There’s still something off.”

Devlin spoke as if it was obvious, “The Rains wasn’t meant for piano. It’s a song for strings.” It was like a lightbulb lit up in her head, and she ran for her violin, taking it up and quickly letting her thoughts run over the strings, testing melodies, pitch, everything in rapid-fire. Devlin drew near the piano and leaned on it, watching her work.

Maya liked to deny her ability to create. She could cover anyone, but create? No, she denied. No, that was not her. Devlin knew it for a lie, but he let he wear the illusion. One day, she’d be making the music he danced to, instead of just editing songs for the pair of them.
“So what was this additional bit you added that so offended your brother?”

“And who are you, the light’s lord asked
To keep my throne from me?
A crown of horns on a lion’s head
Is all the truth I see.
It is blood and birth
Not crimson and gold
That make a man a king.
My blood is purer than yours, my boy
The comet shows it true.

And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
That Lord of Dragonstone
But now the waters doused his flames
With no sparks left to fight
Yes, now the waters doused his flames
And no shadows dancing.”

Devlin laughed. He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t at Maya, so much as the epic burn captured in those lyrics.
“Have you thought of anything for Robb? Oh, let’s figure it out together,” he dropped his own bag and took a seat on the stage. Maya set he violin down, and walked over to him, and the pair began to plot it out.

Eventually, Devlin was singing:

“And who are you, the young wolf said
To claim the north as yours?
A child of summer with golden hair
Shivering on the throne.
With a pride of lions
Or a herd of stags
A wolf still has its pack
And mine is fierce and strong, young cub
With winter at our backs.

And so he spoke, and so he spoke
That Lord of Winterfell
But now the tombs are stark and bare
With no wolves left to howl.
Yes now the tombs are stark and bare
And not a wolf to howl.”

They spent the day at that, instead of practicing for the dance competition. They wrote for the Martells, for the Greyjoys, for the Tullys, for all—it was at the Targaryen and Tyrells that they got stuck, since they weren’t sure how Rose and Dragon would do. They made up lyrics as if the Lannisters would win, all the same.

“Lord Tywin would be proud,”
Devlin said, and then his grin grew wide, “You should put all the songs to music, Maya!”


“The songs of the series. Especially My Featherbed. That one is my favorite.”

She smiled,
“I’ll…consider it.”

Little did she know that she would rise to the challenge, and also start to work on songs from other books.


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Re: Echoes of Time [Whoniverse One-Shots][Closed]
« Reply #69 on: May 07, 2016, 08:19:33 pm »

There was a ring at the door, and only the dim orange light of sunset illuminated the otherwise dark home. An older plump woman walked to the door, and peered through the window. There was a faint chuckle before the lady made her way to the dining room.

“Laura, he’s right outside the door.”

“I was afraid of that,” murmured Laura as she craned over the dining table, several books and notebooks open and spread out across the entire thing. Her tone of voice suggested that this hadn’t been the first time she had an unwanted visitor, and that it hadn’t made a difference.

“Are you going to see him?”

“In a second,” replied she, her eyes hadn’t yet left the pages of a textbook. Not a single page of the books was free from highlights, circles, or comments. Across the room and by the window was a dry erase board, with a plethora of calculations and arrows.

“You should forgive him, baby,” replied Laura’s mother gently, as if this advice hadn’t been well-received before. Laura had been ambiguous about her entire relationship with Donovan, but she’d claimed to have already forgiven him. “He’s a good boy, and he loves you. This is the third time this month.”

‘The third time you’ve noticed.’

Laura flipped the page, rose from where she sat, and made her way out of the dining room and towards the living room. “I’ll take care of it,” she said before her mother could say anything else. 

“I hope you do,” said Laura’s mom before she left the room. She didn’t need to know the details about her daughter’s history with the handsome boy outside to know that they would need some privacy. 

Laura opened the door and looked to Donny, who was standing right outside. He looked thin compared to the last time she’d really looked at him. She tried not to think of the possibility that he had changed so much because of her.

“Donny,” she said in a voice that was surprisingly familiar, “I thought I told you that you can’t keep coming back here.”

Donny nodded his head. “I know, but I wouldn’t have to come here if you weren’t actively avoiding me.” The boy had in fact not been the same after his separation with Laura. He had lost the motivation that had so often defined him, and nobody was happy about it – not his parents who expected so much of him, and not his agency, which was not pleased he no longer looked the part. He wasn't particularly happy with himself either, but this was something he couldn't help. He'd never felt this way before, and this was not something he could study.

“I’m not avoiding you. I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“And what idea is that?”

“That my forgiving you means something more than just that. I told you that there are no hard feelings between us, but I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t want to get back together with you.” It had not taken her long to realize that Donovan could be poisonous to her, and she was not going back to that no matter how much she had loved him. What he'd done was not something terrible, most people could have easily overlooked something like that. In fact, to some people Donovan's attitude was not entirely wrong. She wasn't like those people.
“That’s not enough for us to be apart. You haven’t given me a reason.”

Laura shook her head, not feeling the need to provide one. Why should she? It would only hurt him more, and she knew how big Donny’s ego was. After all, it had also been her ego that had been wounded. “No reason will be good enough for you, Donny.”

Donny looked away, jaw clenched in defiance. 

Laura walked closer to Donny. “Look at me, Donny,” he didn’t move, and so she repeated. “Come on, look at me.”

When she met his gaze, she realized just how broken he was. She had never quite figured out why he sometimes got that same look on his face, and she hadn’t dared asked when they were together. She just knew that there was something that gnawed at him. She placed her hands on the side of his face.

“Please know, Donny, that you don’t need my forgiveness. You have it, but you don’t need it. You don't owe me anything.”

“I can’t,” he struggled, angry. “I can’t breathe without you.”

“Yes you can. You can breathe even through the guilt, with whatever is that you carry here,” she pressed her hand against his chest. “But you don’t need to feel guilty. I am fine. You will be fine, too.”

Donny pulled her into an embrace, and she offered him at least that much comfort. She had little clue of what her words meant to him, and what other burdens he carried with him. 

“Go home, Donny,” she said as she pulled away, giving him only a smile. She’d said that to him before, but it was somehow different this time. “Please take care of yourself, because you are needlessly tiring yourself. We’ll see each other around, yeah?”

Donovan couldn’t speak, but he gave her a nod. She caressed his face one more time before heading back inside. He stood alone for a few minutes, but eventually he turned back around and went home. For a while thereafter, he would feel better every day.

His burdens, however, would not go away.


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Re: Echoes of Time [Whoniverse One-Shots][Closed]
« Reply #70 on: May 25, 2016, 10:49:41 pm »
Dropping Bagels Part 2

There was movement quickly after the electromagnetic pulse, and a large slam echoed throughout the suddenly panicked room. Several other struggles ensued, but no actual words were spoken in the brief lapse of time. Contact, struggle, and strain.

The emergency batteries flickered on for only a second, revealing Agent Avery tumbled over the interrogation table face down, her bodyguards fallen on the floor, and Beckett prying open the door with both Regina’s and Avery’s key cards in hand. Regina King was staring at Beckett in wild disbelief. The lights would go out again soon, as the EMP would have wiped out the object behind the batteries.

The EMP would buy him only minutes, but that was all he needed to make his escape. It went dark again.

Once he was out the door, Beckett needed not the light to guide him. He’d been inside the building many times, and he had memorized all that he needed to carry out his plan. He knew the doors well, he knew the floors, and more importantly, he knew the staff. Just like her husband, Regina didn’t need the lights, and she followed him out effortlessly, gun in hand. She knew where he was going.

“Beckett!” The sound of her harsh voice alerted security of the direction in which they were heading.

It didn’t matter, for there was not an obstacle that Beckett faced that he couldn’t easily dispose of. Within seconds, Beckett had gone through multiple doors without using the key cards, which were now safely in his pocket. The key cards would serve their purpose in another way entirely. It was within seconds that Beckett localized the file he needed and made his way back out of the oddly shaped room. There weren’t many other files in the place where this one had been kept.

Regina and the others knew which file he was after, and so Beckett knew that they were following him closely. It would still not be enough time to catch him.

The bright light from the outside sun shone through the window at the end of the long corridor, which timely snapped and unhinged from its place clean. Beckett leapt through the window, stopping his momentum with his hand on the side of the building, and acrobatically making and swinging his way all the way down. The file was tightly clasped in his mouth.

A car stopped in front of him the very second his foot touched the ground, the tires screeching as it skidded to a stop. On the driver’s seat was a black mechanical structure, engulfing the steering wheel and most of the seat. A subtle red laser could be seen on the front of the car. Only a trained eye could have caught such a thing.

Beckett casually slipped into the passenger seat, running his fingers through his hair with one hand and taking the file with the other. The car was speeding down the road at a neck-breaking speed before Beckett even closed the door of the car. By the time that Regina had made her way down, followed closely by a hunchbacked and barely stable Avery, the car was long gone.

“Find. Him.”

Regina lowered her gun, breathing heavily and absolutely livid. This had been the perfect escape, planned to the very second, and she was kicking herself for not seeing it earlier. What the hell did Beckett want with that file? Would she reveal where he was heading?

Beckett was looking through the file as the car drove, using the key cards to decode the encrypted written words. Both the key cards granted clearance, but they were also used for something much more important. From what Beckett had gathered from his marriage with Regina, some very specific files housed in the building could only accessed and read by certain agents.

It was why he had picked Regina.

She hadn’t known any better. She would have never gotten a clue to be suspicious of him, bless her. Throughout their time together, Regina had grown comfortable around Beckett, and she had dropped her guard. She had let mistakes slip through the cracks of her comfort, because her husband was only a middle school teacher, who corrected the way she spoke and read over her press releases. He was silly and goofy. The perfect mask.

Beckett noted the patterns, and when he visited her for lunch, he noticed that her changing key cards were specific to the cases she complained of at home. They were the key to it all, and she was ever so careful about not misplacing them, of keeping them always with her.

It was why he had waited so much time before acting. It was why he married her, and why he needed to be patient more than ever before.

Now it was all in his grasp. It took Beckett a minute, but he decrypted the only thing that he needed. An address. The CIA was waiting to act, doing research that was going nowhere, but Beckett would not do that. Now that he had what he wanted, he was unwilling to wait any longer. He knew things that the CIA didn’t. 

By sunset, Beckett had wandered into the slums of Brooklyn. He’d made his way up the stairs of an apartment complex with a second stake he retrieved from the third car he’d used to keep the CIA off his back. Regina, despite her anger, would not rat him out. He had that on good authority.

Upon reaching the door to his destination, Beckett didn’t bother knocking.

“What the hell?”

Across the room, which had clearly hosted a very violent altercation, was a  great vampire, with a hand covering a deep wound on his chest. A steel stave was still turning on the floor. The dust of the altercation had not yet settled, but there was no one else in the room. This vampire was confused, and he was dying.

“How did you do that? You were just here!” he struggled. “I had you!”

The explained it. Beckett would fight this vampire sometime in the future.

“That certainly didn’t go your way, now did it?”

“Fuck you.”

“Would you be inclined to tell me where it is?”

The vampire didn’t speak, but his eyes subconsciously revealed the location of what Beckett was looking for. When Beckett moved, the vampire tried to intercept him, but fell on his side, weak. He could’t see clearly, and so he didn’t question the strange events he’d been part of.

“Ah, there it is. Excuse me,” Beckett said in a sing-song voice as he stepped over the struggling vampire. On the floor, under a toppled bookshelf, was his vortex manipulator, the one he’d had before his current one had been compromised. This was the vortex manipulator that would allow him to leave, and the one that had been stolen from him.

“You played a good game, vampire.” Beckett’s voice was flat, completely void of emotion. “You should have thought twice before playing with me. I always have someone keeping tabs on me.”

He’d find out more later, he was certain.

“It took them a year to find you,” the vampire spat. The vampire clearly didn’t know just what he had stolen.

“No,” said Beckett, “it was a year before someone could come to my aid. Time is a fickle thing, you know. It has to be a good time, and I had some time to spare. Do you want to tell me how you found me? Who sent you?”

Clearly, this had been a small piece of a much larger puzzle.

“Nothing would thrill me more,” said the vampire, reaching into his wound even deeper, and crushing his own heart.

Beckett shook his head, wrapped the vortex manipulator around his wrist, and disappeared.


Regina was waiting patiently in her home, waiting to hear of Beckett’s capture. It was inevitable, wasn’t it? He couldn’t escape them. They knew where he was going, and they had secured her safety, despite her wishes.

She had never been so confused.

When he appeared out of thin air, suddenly and so forcefully in front of her, she felt her breath leave her body. Regina’s eyes teared immediately, and her hand tempted to reach for the gun resting on the table.

“How did you—?!”

Beckett shushed her gently, knowing very well she would not hurt him. Not really.

“They won’t look for me here if you don’t tell them. They’ve cleared the house, and they’re making sure I can’t come back here. There are many things you don’t know about me, but I am not your enemy, baby. I’m your husband.”

Regina slapped Beckett, multiple times, but he didn’t fight back. She wasn’t fighting to hurt him, she was fighting to make a statement, to express her anger and her frustration. Beckett pulled her into a tight hug, one that she fought silently for a minute before giving up.

They stood still for many minutes before speaking.

“This doesn’t have to change our life,” whispered Beckett, his American accent perfect. Regina fought back, but then she looked at her husband. “We can go back to who we were, and forget everything that happened. This doesn’t have to change anything. Not tonight.”

Beckett leaned in and kissed her. It was forceful, passionate kiss - a kiss that that could consume a person. It was not long before the both of them lost each other in it, ignored everything else. It was aggressive, and it quickly led to the pair of them leading to the bedroom. Regina pulled off Beckett’s shirt, and his hands had unbuttoned her blouse by the time they crossed the door.

Their hands and their legs were entangled with the other’s, and their breaths grew labored as Beckett forcefully pushed Regina into the bed.

Beckett would be gone within the hour, and he would not come back.