Disclaimer, I own nothing. Nothing. Or Damian and Terry would be reinacting King Lear as Edmund and Edgar.
I'M BACK! Really, after my last piece I felt like I'd lost my flow but then I got into this and with Duquesne I just couldn't stop. I never meant to get so into the characters but I ended up totally adoring them. If CampionSayn doesn't protest too much, I might just steal them for a series of one shots – if I can find the time to think something up, little on write. This was meant to an extended spin off of The Blue LineChapter, fromTwinningbyCampionSayn at her request but... it sort of to a life of its own.
All I could see was the slightly goofy but never the less smart Alcana, who flirts too much and the irritable workaholic Duquesne, who stresses too much and tends to intimidate or threaten those around her and takes things wwwwway to personal. Then she kept on developing... and developing... and developing. And here we are.
Love it! I've wanted to do a Beyond 'Gotham Central' for aaaagggeeess
And yeah, the title has two meanings. XD
GCPF – Gordon's Prodigy
It took less time than Deidra would have expected (and longer than the rest of the detectives under Barbara Gordon had guessed) to settle into her new job. Yes, she was still a skittle as a doe in headlights but she was making – well, not friends but allies amongst the detectives she worked around.
If only she could get the image of their reactions to discovering the cute little assistant to the Commissioner, who melted their hearts with her baking, was the twin sister to none other than the she-devil, Crime Princess herself out of her head. Every time Sanchez or Alcana smiled at her in a way that wasn't just politeness but genuine friendly affection or when the all too serious Duquesne gave her a small nod of approval, Deidra was reminded with a small jolt of guilt that she was lying to them. It wasn't Deidre Dennis, ex-Jokerz, once part Dee Dee and currently vigilante Darling Quinn but Deidre Larkin, a timid sixteen year old family 'friend' of the Commissioner who only had her job because of that friendship that the detectives liked. A girl who didn't really exist but as a convenience.
It had taken her a month to convince most of the department otherwise, and given the fact they love her baking as much as the Commissioner did, no one was going to question her decision. Openly at least.
Duquesne, whose reputation was as legendary as Bullock's- for results, had been a little more vocal in her displeasure. It wasn't like she hated Deidre, more that she didn't think she belonged in the police HQ.
"God, have you tried these Duq?" Alcana gasped as he sat down, a milk chocolate bit of heaven in one hand and a hand full of more in the other. Duquesne, who was now wondering where the coffee she had sent Alcana for was, looked up from her paper work, eyebrow raised.
The other detective was staring at the cookie like he had found god.
"You want milk to go with that Alcana?" she muttered sarcastically, hinted with a little disgust. She wasn't sure if Alcana was drooling over the cookies or the bumbling blonde who had made them.
"Awww don't be like that, you should try these - they are amazing." The easy going ginger leant back in his seat. While Alcana was far from a slacker in his job (there was nothing more important to him), he lacked the intense obsessivness Duquesne had for it with her pinpointed focused professionalism. Hence her infamous nickname 'Sherlock'.
Natural, this meant of the two 'Watson' was by far the more approachable.
Duquesne tried to smile but it came out of more a grimace. She really needed that coffee. She looked down at the half filled out report and then at the stack of tablets containing other forms and reports to still be finished. She sighed. She needed a caffeine fix.
"I don't need sugar, I need caffeine – that's what I sent you for or did the blonde glory make you forget that?"
The rustic ginger raised a hand against the coffee-deprived onslaught, "Hey, I didn't forget, Duq, Deidre offered to get some from Starbucks when she was getting lunch. It's better that the vending machine stuff yeah?" He smiled at her, with his stupid 'I'm-just-to-cute-to-stay-mad-at' smile that Duquesne always used as an excuse to kick him.
She smacked him over the back of the head. He coughed as he inhaled a few loose crumbs.
"I think someone's jealous." He stage whispered as he moved the digital mountain of paper on his own desk around to mimic the mess actually doing his job might make. Duquesne's eyes widened.
"What? Jealous of what?" she demanded, dropping her pen.
The innocent look Alcana pasted across his face didn't make him look any less mischievous – and certainly didn't deter Duquesne for raising her hand in a threatening sort of way again.
"Hey! Gees, I just meant that you've been muttering and giving Deidre the death-glare since she got here. What do you have against the kid? She's the figurative wallflower; she flinches every time someone blinks in her direction." Alcana shifted back, subtly moving his chair so he wasn't in slapping distance.
"Jealous? Of that that pipsqueak? I'm not jealous of her and I'm not glaring at her. I have better things to do with my time (like our due in paperwork) that waste my time with some little blonde bimbo–" Duquesne snapped loudly.
"-Coffee?"
Alcana and Duquesne started and jerked around. Deidre was only a few feet behind them, two large polyester cups in each hand and a small smile on her lips. Alcana's mouth fell open in shock and Duquesne froze up. Deidre just stared at them.
"...o-kay, I'll...just leave them here, 'kay?" She placed them on Duquesne desk and with a small smile disappears across the department floor. Duquesne blushed, mortified and guilty.
"I think she heard you, Duq, she looked upset." Alcana observed sombrely, as he picked up one of the Starbucks coffee.
Duquesne turned a deeper red, upset. It had never been (and never would have been) her intentions for Deidre to hear her rant and neither would she never want to upset the girl. Duquesne might be, in the words of her fellows, an 'anti-social, workaholic, street kicker' but she would never trash someone when there was a change they could find out about it.
Gordon was going to skin her if Deidre's ego ended up bruised.
"I –I'm going to see if there's any more cookies left, yeah." She muttered standing up and following Deidre's path. Alcana sarcastically saluted her off, stuffing another cookie in his mouth before glancing down at his work mournfully.
Outside the door to the 'staff room' – or the room that held the dilapidated coffee maker and the ancient toaster – Duquesne bit down on her lips. She was... uncomfortable and found herself cursing Gordon for bring the girl – the little little girl – here in the first place. Major Crimes, Special Circumstances Department was no place for a girl most likely not even out of school, hell most fresh academy grad struggles to work here for a small times without ending up scarred.
That and Duquesne hated having to deal with any kind of emotions.
'You and your big mouth has probably got the kid crying her heart out in there and you, antisocial nix that you are, can't leave her on her own,' Duquesne mental berated herself as she took a small breath and raised her hand. The door opened.
Duquesne mouth dropped out slightly as Detective Sanchez raised a surprised, if sceptical, eyebrow. "Problem, Duquesne?" He asked, his words shaking with his deep, slight rich rumble that normally made the women blushed.
Duquesne scowled harshly, "Move, Sanchez." She ordered, not bothering to explain why nor was she answering the unspoken question of why a woman who not only detested the kitchen but who always – always - ended up destroying something when inside wanted him out of there. There was a reason Alcana did the coffee runs and it wasn't that he liked ditching paperwork.
Or at least, it wasn't just that.
Sanchez shot her a sceptical look down his nose (damn him and his basketball player height compared to her own shortness) and a ragged grin took over. She glared. The smile faded, slightly, and he nodded over his shoulder at the unseen person in the kitchen and stepped aside. Duquesne gritted her teeth as Sanchez noisily bit into a cookie on the way back to his desk.
Pushing down the grimace (and the rising discomfort) Duquesne stepped into the room. Deidre was looking out the window and from the looks of it, washing up some of the dishes in the sink. She... didn't look like she had been crying her heart out but then, Duquesne couldn't see her face.
"Detective Duquesne, what can I do of you?" Smiling brightly Deidre turned around, wiping her wet hands on a faded dishtowel. Duquesne flustered but noticed the dim look in Deidre's blue eyes, like a normally bright blue skies covered in storm clouds.
"Larkin, I – I wanted to apologise about what I said, it – it wasn't – I," Duquesne stammered, making sure the door was closed. God forbid the men hear.
She took a deep breath, "It wasn't about you – or at least, it wasn't anything you've done. It's just... it was other detectives, the way they've been acting since you started here. It's been driving me insane- and those cookies you bake! They're always eating them every time I turn around and... I can't cook. At all. Period." She admitted red faced, "and the guys keep looking at me as if to ask why I hadn't baked for them. But that's not what annoys me, I'm fine with my inability to cook –"
Privately, Deidre doubted it since the near hysterical rant Duquesne took on never mind her – to put it mildly – extreme perfectionist traits coupled with a fierce feminist attitude, probably meant that Deidre's domestic skills were driving her to despair. Some people really couldn't face their weaknesses.
"- but the way every guy hits on you, kid or not and the fact that Bab- the Commissioner actually listens to you. And you're here. At Sixteen! It took me years of hard work to get to even a lackey position in this department. The amount of overtime and collars I had to get before anyone, little on Barbara, would notice me – and you just walked in –" Duquesne broke off, gasping for breath, eyes stinging. She turned around, eyes closed, more mortified that she could imagine.
Deidre felt a little overwhelmed as she watched Duquesne take several deep breaths and pretended to not notice the small harsh tears on her jacket lapel.
"Detective Duquesne," she started quietly "I – I never meant for you to – to feel undermined or anything. I meant you're the famous detective here, I just get the coffee and the make some cakes – that's all I can really do" besides beat men twice my size to a pulp, fix any kind of chemical poison/explosive/cure from household products and smash the majority of industrial locks and security to pieces, she amended silently.
"As for the Commissioner, I know she listens when I ask her things but I don't think she'd take any advice I offer seriously. I don't know anything about police work," Crime on the other hand, "but I know you're one of her most valued officers. Everyone knows you, even Civilians – you're Desdemona Duquesne, Commissioner Gordon's prodigy detective. You're the youngest officer to ever make Major Crimes and the youngest to make it through the Gotham Academy with high honours." Deidre didn't try to touch Duquesne or hug her but she did side step around her, so they were face to face.
"You're one of the most famous officers in Gotham, please don't ever think differently."
Duquesne stared at Deidre for minutes, for all her flushed features and slightly red eyes her focus was as sharp as ever and her slightly trembling lip pressed firm. She nodded her body suddenly still like a cool breath had washed over her.
"I came to apologise," she started, her tone no longer awkward but sincerely regretful.
Deidre shook her head, "I've already forgiven you. I guessed it wasn't personal, I've seen how Alcana and paperwork tends to wind you up." She lied slightly but then, she didn't define whether it was just Alcana's view on paper pushing or just the rustic would-be ladies man himself that flustered the detective.
Duquesne smiled. It was small and strangely out of place on her but personally Deidre felt the woman, who put herself under too much pressure, looked even more beautiful than normal when she relaxed and let herself be happy.
Deidre opened one the cupboard doors and pulled out a retro wicker basket and offered it to the detective. "My secret stash," she winked and left, feeling like for the first time in a long time she was well on her way to having, not an ally but a real friend of her own making in the department.
The detective simple stared at the basket before pulling back the cover. Inside held a slight jumble of not just the milk chocolate cookies Alcana was worshiping but mixture of cookies, cakes, pasties and other goodies Deidre made on a regular base. Duquesne felt a little gobsmacked.
Then tentatively, she picked up a cookie (rather like it was an armed bomb) and took a small bit out of it. Her eyes widen comically as her taste bud got their first hint of Deidre's baking and she humped. Hoisting the basket under her arm, she took another bit and exited the staff room.
"Hmm, not bad."
XD Well Detective, they do say 'don't knock it until you've tried it'. I enjoyed this too much.