Disclaimer: No recognizable characters are mine. Any person or event that is slightly recognizable to you is a coincidence, but I'd certainly like to know about it! Please don't sue me for the drabble my mind vomits out.
Also, no offense to Bruce Coville fans by stealing his title. Like the rest of the fic, it makes no sense, but I like it.
Note: Since the Lone Gunmen TV show's been canceled, I figured: what the hell. Post this long, bizarre crossover with very little point on the site. It's been sitting on disc for way too long. Let me repeat myself: it's long and bizarre.
The crossover is due to a made up mutant (okay, Mary Sue) from the X-men. If you're at all interested in learning about Quinn, your best bet is to check out the stuff I've got posted in the X-men category.
For anyone who might possible care, this is a slightly different universe than the original. How, you may ask? Quinn's not dead! Oh, the joys of being an omnipotent author . . ..
Enjoy!
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Unexpected Visitor
A sharp buzz from the door alarm briefly interrupted Langly's and Frohike's argument. Byers looked up from his computer screen. Between the storm outside and the quibbling inside, it was hard to hear.
"Isn't it raining? Who could that be?"
"Go get it, Frohike," Langly insisted, giving the shorter man a shove.
"Get it yourself, hippie. No way am I letting you have this computer back. You've been on it all day."
"I've been trying to hack into the AT&T satellite all day. You're just going to look up porn!"
Byers, who'd listened to the fight for an hour, sighed dramatically. "Frohike, go find out who's out there."
"But—"
"The computer'll be here! Just go."
Mumbling obscenities under his breath, Frohike pushed himself away from the table. Langly smirked and continued typing madly.
The buzzing hadn't ceased.
Walking to the door slowly, Frohike was still too far away to make out distinguishing features of the person displayed on the monitor beside the door.
"Open up you guys! I know you're in there!" a woman's voice yelled over the noise from the alarm. A roll of thunder punctuated her words ominously. Byers watched Frohike's progress; Langly was absorbed in his computer screen.
"Who is it?" Frohike called, refusing to be hurried.
"Frohike! Open this door!"
He was near enough the monitor now to recognize the woman. The dark leather trench coat, the long hair, the set jaw . . . the torrential downpour soaked had her through, but she was unmistakable. He stopped, stunned, a hand on the doorknob.
"I swear to god, Frohike—I'm giving you the count of three to open this goddamn door or I'm blowing it open myself! I'm also betting I can hit you pretty good too." Frohike watched the woman pull a handgun and aim at the door. "One—two—"
Frohike scrambled and fumbled with the multiple locks. He threw open the door and made sure it remained between him and the woman. Without taking his eyes off her, he called over his shoulder,
"Langly! Your ex is here!"
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All three men were shocked silent as she pushed passed Frohike. In two quick movements she holstered the gun and ran a hand over her hair to squeeze some of the rain water out. She was drenched.
"Please, make yourself at home," said Frohike sarcastically.
"Thanks," she replied absently. As he shut the door to the elements, she made her way through the dim maze of electronic equipment to the other two men. Slight squeaking from her boots and puddles left their mark where she walked.
"Quinn," Langly managed to squeak out, his hands poised at the keyboard but his hacking forgotten.
"Hi," she replied. "It's nice to see you. And you too, John. It's been a long time."
Byers gave a slight nod. He looked apprehensive. "You know I don't like guns in here."
"Take it easy. It's put away, safe and sound."
"Right," Frohike snorted, coming up behind her, "but what about you? I seem to recall a little incident that somehow managed to blow out a whole shelf full of monitors and a set of really expensive subwoofers. Not to mention the fact some of us were knocked out cold for an unspecified amount of time."
Quinn rolled her eyes. "If someone hadn't startled me, someone wouldn't have been knocked on his ass. Besides, I'm in better control now. You've got nothing to worry about from my gun or me."
Frohike muttered, "That's not what my gut tells me," but Quinn ignored it and turned back to the other two.
Langly caught her eye. "Um . . . so—what are you doing here?"
"I've got some trouble," she replied. Her tough-woman exterior cracked a bit; now she only looked waterlogged and tired. She dropped her noticeably bloodshot eyes. "I need help, guys, and I didn't know who else to ask."
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In the silence that followed, Quinn took a breath and steadied herself. She wished for a drink, but there hadn't been any for days, and little chance of one here. She broke the silence again.
"I'm not asking for charity. I've got the cash to pay."
With a tired movement she yanked a bundle of bills out of her duster and dropped it to the tabletop. It landed with a wet slap. It, like the rest of her, was dripping.
"Whoa—whoa!" Frohike exclaimed. "Get that hot money out of here! I don't want blood money! We've got enough problems as it is without spending that and getting tracked down for murder!"
"Give it a rest, Doohickey," Langly replied. "It's not hot. Right, Quinn? Or is that the kind of trouble you're in?"
She shook her head. "Never. It's bounty money—live money. No one got hurt." She paused, then added, "By my hand, at least."
Frohike threw up his hands. "Oh, that makes it so much better!"
"Ignore him, Quinn," Byers suggested.
"I usually do."
Frohike gave her a disgusted look.
"What is it you want exactly?" Byers continued.
"I need all the information you can give me on the Friends of Humanity organization. And a group that splintered off called the Genesis Project. I can give you some basic stuff to start with, but I don't have any hacking skills or knowledge of how to read the computer files.
"Will you help me?"
"Genesis," Byers mused. "Didn't I read that they were even more irrational than FOH? That they didn't just want to know who was a mutant, but to force them into concentration camps?"
"They don't just want to isolate us, John. They want to do a lot worse," Quinn informed him with conviction.
"Why's this so important? I'd think you'd want to stay as far away from nut jobs like them as you could," said Langly.
Quinn ran a hand over her face. They could see it was to cover tears.
"I've got a friend who's been taken into custody by Genesis. I need to get all the data I can on them and everything else so I can find him and get him out. Since they got him, it means they were on to me too. So, uh, I also need a place to lay low for awhile."
The three men looked to each other.
"Them?" Frohike muttered sarcastically, only half under his breath. "They're after you?"
He was met with sharp looks from his partners. Quinn's shoulders sagged, and she didn't reply.
"We'll see what we can do," Byers told her sincerely.
"Who's the paranoid one now?"
Again, Quinn didn't rise to Frohike's bait. She wouldn't even turn to the older man as she gave the other two a half smile in thanks.
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Without a word being spoken, Langly was unanimously elected to take Quinn into the back. In the far corners of his mind, he was secretly glad. In the close corners, he was angry.
"You can sleep here," he told her shortly, indicating the door with a jerk of his thumb.
"Your room?" she questioned, in a surprised tone.
"It's most familiar, isn't it?"
"I was just thinking if that's what was planned all along I could have shown myself back. You could have stayed at your precious computer."
He glared at her.
Quinn held up her hands. "I'm sorry, Ringo. It just caught me off guard, that's all. I never expected you to offer me your room."
"Well . . ." his glare softened. "It's easiest, after all. I can be comfortable on the couch. You wanna take a shower? You're still soaked to the bone."
"That'd be nice."
Again, even though she knew the way, he lead her deeper into the building. At the bathroom, he flicked the light switch, and just as quickly flicked it back off.
"It may be best if you don't look at things," he told her.
Quinn laughed in spite herself. "Trust me. Nothing can compare to some of the places I've been lately. Lights, please. It's the only room in this place that isn't dim."
With a smile and slow shake of his head, Langly hit the switch again and entered. Quinn followed him inside. She watched as he pulled a clean towel out of the closet and started the water in the shower.
"Hot as can you can stand it, right?" he asked over his shoulder.
"Right," she replied slowly. Before he turned around, she asked, "Why are you doing this?"
She caught his slight shrug. When he turned around, his glasses were steamed over. "There's no reason for me not to, Quinn. Frohike's already taken over my computer."
"Porn?"
He grinned.
"Well," Quinn sighed, "since you're being so obliging, help me out of these damn pants."
He looked startled. "Excuse me?"
"Come on, Ringo," she insisted, shrugging her leather duster off and hanging it on the back of the door. "This leather is a pain in the ass to get off when it's wet. I need your help pulling. You're most familiar with it." With a mischievous gleam in her eye she added, "But if it's too awkward for you, I'll call Frohike back. Even though he pretends to hate me, he'd be more than willing to learn, I think."
"You may be right. Cyber geeks like us don't turn down offers like that. Lord knows we don't get any." As she stifled a laugh, Langly made sure the warped door was shut tightly before he turned back to her. "And because of that pathetic fact, I will help. Sit down."
Quinn undid the button and fly on her pants, then kicked off her boots, and with Langly's help managed to struggle out of the tight leather. It took some time, though, and by the end they were both cursing and sweating. The steam from the shower had filled the small room, and didn't help.
Finally she stood before him in only thin underwear and her shirt.
Trying to ignore the tightening in his stomach, Langly asked, "You need help out of that too?"
She smiled, and lifted it easily over her head. Langly swallowed, and resisted the urge to wipe his glasses off for a better view.
"That's new," he managed to say, indicating her single nipple ring.
"Yeah. You like it?"
He tried to shrug indifferently.
Quinn gave him a slight smile. "Listen. You got a work out pulling those pants off. You want to join me? Clean off some of that sweat?"
He choked, "I think it'd be replaced with a different kind of sweat."
She laughed out loud. Stepping up against him, she whispered, "Would that be so bad?"
Instead of answering, he asked, "Why're you doing this to me?"
"Hey, you started it. Not going back to your computer, drawing the water—"
"You asked me to take off your pants!"
"You asked to take off my shirt."
"You want me to take a shower with you!"
"You haven't said no."
Quinn carefully ran her hands up his back. She could feel his heartbeat, strong and fast, through his shirt. He wasn't looking at her any more. The steam had plastered his blond hair to him, and made his clothes damp as hers. One of his hands tentatively brushed her hip. She stretched up and kissed the sensitive spot under his ear.
"We were good together, weren't we?" he whispered, his eyes still closed.
"Oh yes . . ." She reached and gently removed his horn rims.
"And then you left."
"I seem to recall you freaking out."
"You lied to me!"
"I didn't lie!" Quinn retorted. "I just didn't . . . tell you."
"Exactly." Langly opened his eyes. Without his glasses, she was very slightly blurry. Her skin was shiny from steam and sweat. "What you do is illegal!"
"And breaking and entering plus industrial espionage isn't? The high level hacking you're so good at isn't?"
He tightened his lips and looked away again.
"You kill people. We try to get evidence to expose the truth."
She was silent.
A few seconds passed, and Langly whispered, "If only you'd told me. If Frohike hadn't shoved your photo into my face . . ."
"Then what, Ringo? You'd have been okay with it? If I'd come out and told you that while you and your D and D buddies were busy pretending to kill each other, I was out in the world actually doing it—then that would have been all right?"
He sighed a little. "Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know. Could you repeat the question?"
Quinn moved closer again and caught his face in her hands. "We were good together, Ringo. We had good times. I've missed you. Haven't you missed me, even a little?"
Without giving him a chance to say anything further, she pulled him down to her lips. He resisted a moment, too many conflicting thoughts in his head, then made a conscious effort to ignore them. The feel of her hands on his face, the taste of her tongue, the heat from her body was too much. Even as his better judgement screamed against it, Langly wrapped his arms around her slick waist and deepened the kiss.
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Twenty minutes later, warm from the water and feeling cleaner than she had in a long long time, Quinn shut off the shower and stood with her head against the tiles. What was she doing here? What could the Lone Gunmen really do for her? They were only paranoid government watchdogs—ah, there was her answer. If anyone could ferret out the truth about the Genesis group, these three could.
Fine. Then the next question was: why was she suddenly so drawn again to Ringo Langly? He was the past. Not a mistake, and not a regret, but definitely the past. What was she thinking seducing him fifteen minutes after barging back into his HQ? What is going on, Quinn?
Langly didn't brush off her advances, she mused. Of course he wouldn't; even though he joked that 'cyber geeks' don't get propositioned, the statement was bare bones truth. But could it also mean he didn't think her a mistake? No regrets on his part?
Quinn was still trying to figure out her own mind, drifting in her thoughts, when Langly pulled back the shower curtain with a quick movement. It made her jump.
"Jesus, Quinn, I remember when nothing startled you," he remarked. "You okay? You're gonna get chilly again, standing there."
She hadn't known he'd stayed as she washed. She didn't comment that there was also a time nothing escaped her attention. Unexpectedly, she felt slow.
Langly held the towel open as an offering. "You're beat. Dry off, and go to bed."
Bed. She hadn't slept in a bed for a long time. Dazed, she nodded.
He must have noticed her stupor, because instead of leaving he helped her out and wrapped the towel around her. Carefully, she was dried, and even more carefully, her hair was combed out. The gesture was odd but comforting.
Covered with the towel Quinn followed Langly obediently from the bath to the bedroom. His room looked the same as she'd remembered, untouched by time: box spring and mattress on the floor, sheets and blankets askew, one wall dominated by a sound system, the others papered in old posters of heavy metal bands, various articles of clothing strewn about.
"Sorry about the mess," he said sheepishly, even as he dropped her clothing in a heap to the floor.
She managed to give him a smile. Her eyelids were heavy.
"So," he said, suddenly flustered. He snagged one of the blankets from the pile. "You crawl into bed. Sleep as long as you want. Tomorrow we'll start cracking down on Genesis, okay?"
He left her standing and made for the door.
"Ringo?" she whispered just as his hand took the knob.
He turned back. Her back was still to him. Her shoulders were slightly hunched.
"I've been through some tough times lately. It's been hard for me. I know it's early for you, but . . . would you . . . could you possibly just . . . stay with me tonight?"
Langly bit the inside of his lip. This wasn't a come-on, it wasn't like the sultry aggression Quinn tempted him with in the bathroom. She'd caught him off guard with that, and he'd responded with habit. She was exhausted out of her skull tonight—how would she feel tomorrow morning waking up next to him with a clearer head?
"If you won't, I understand," she continued. "I don't blame you. I understand."
Would he hate himself for turning down a woman who asked him to sleep with her? Langly didn't think Byers or Frohike would even be having a mental argument with themselves about this situation.
Well, maybe Byers.
"Sure, Quinn," he replied, keeping his tone low so his voice wouldn't shake, "I'll stay with you tonight."
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The mattress was comfortably familiar. Langly's lean body was even more so as Quinn settled close his side. He had slipped an arm under her neck, like old times. Quinn carefully ran a hand over his stomach, across the line of hair that extended from his navel to his groin. He caught his breath quickly and his heartbeat came faster in response.
A wave of déjà vu slid over her.
But instead of riding the crest, Quinn let her hand rest. Sleep was crowding out coherent thought.
"Thank you, Ringo," she whispered into his chest.
A slight shifting and a warm kiss on her forehead eased her into unconsciousness.
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