Disclaimer: I do not own Chase or any of its characters.
A/N: I know the writers came up with something else to explain how she got the nickname 'Boots', but this is what the plot bunnies brought to me. Props to my beta, Mellimon. Thank you!
Jimmy Godfrey, U.S. Marshall and true Texan to boot sat alone in the bullpen, reviewing the case on their latest fugitive, Don Taylor. Taylor allegedly murdered five people and ran when given bail. He and Annie had been close to apprehending him twice with the last instance being at a coffee house in Katy, Texas. So while they were waiting on the data dump from the computer Taylor used, Jimmy looked for anything that they might have missed while Annie had gone home for the evening.
"Hey Jimmy, got your info." One of the tech's drops a packet on his desk. Taking the offered clipboard, he signs the evidence into his custody and hands it back to the guy. "Thanks, man."
"Now, what were you looking up that was so important," Jimmy said to himself. As he was flipping through the pages he came across one that stops him in his tracks and he grabs his cell phone from his desk.
"Come on, come on, pick up your phone."
Beeep. "You have reached the voicemail of Annie Frost…" He slams the phone shut. "Damn it!" He grabs the radio by his desk. "I need a unit dispatched to 765 Rancher Street. I repeat, send a unit to 765 Rancher." Grabbing his keys and gun, he runs out the door.
"There's a yellow rose in Texas that I am going to see." Annie sings, while rinsing the shampoo out of her hair. Today had been rough without much of a lead, so she had decided to actually go home for the first time in what felt like a week. It was nice to actually use her own shampoo rather than the stuff they had at the office.
Hearing a tinkling of a bell, she freezes, her hand stilling in her hair. She had bells on all of her doors rather than locking them most of the time and in her opinion they were a much better alarm system than something that could be just turned off. She sticks her head out of the curtain and listens again. Nothing.
Keeping the shower running, she slowly gets out and pulls one of her Velcro towels from the cabinet. Toeing to the door, she listens at the doorway and then slips inside her room. She grabs the gun from her bedside table, turns the safety off, and slips on the shoes next to her bed. Crouching next to her bedroom door she slowly opens it a crack and looks out into her living room. Not noticing anything at first she opens the door a little more.
Slamming on the brakes and throwing the truck into park, Jimmy vaults out of his seat and runs into the house. "Annie!"
Hearing steps to his left, he tracks in that direction with his gun. "He ran out the back!" Annie yells, as she slides into his view. He takes off toward the back door, sprinting ahead of Annie and hearing the bang of the door hitting the wall behind him after throwing it open.
Taylor was running as fast as he could, but it wasn't fast enough for two bound and determined U.S. Marshals. Jimmy tackles him to the ground and Taylor comes up swinging. Taking one to the stomach, Jimmy swings back with all of his strength, catching the fugitive in the jaw, knocking him unconscious. Flipping him onto his stomach, he brings the guy's arms around and cuffs them.
Finally turning to look back at his partner, he gets the surprise of his life. She is standing there, holding a gun at Taylor, wearing only wet hair, a towel, and cowboy boots.
He grins up at her. "Hey Annie, nice boots."
I absolutely love these two. Thanks for reading this, it was my first fic, so any mistakes are my own. ~ picchic