It Could Be Worse (2nd Season)
Episode 17:
Gone
By Sulia Serafine
[A Protector of the Small fanfic set in an alternate universe; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.
BAD LANGUAGE (I. E. cursing, swearing…)! E-mail me at silverwlng@aol.com okay? And you know the drill: titles or subjects of emails are fanfiction.net, s.serafine, or icbw.
NEW! For those of you I left in the dark (so sorry, by the way), I have a new series: The Gift. It's the sequel to ICBW, but I'm running it parallel to its mother series so you, the wonderful reader, can get little tidbits of foreshadowing and the like. It only makes sense after you read episode 9 of season 2, so that's why I waited. For every three episodes of ICBW, an episode of The Gift will come out, so have fun reading! EPISODE 3 IS NOW POSTED!
I'm still accepting people into the mailing list. That means you'll be told when the next episode is posted, as well as other tidbits of information about the series whenever I put them online. ALSO: Every now and then, as a pledge, I'll send everyone bonus material, such as drawings of ICBW characters and little random facts about ICBW.
~~
"This is really heavy stuff," Cleon muttered.
"Really? You think so?" Neal snapped sarcastically. He looked at his watch. "Doing all this investigating and interrogating is boring the hell out of me. Want to grab lunch?"
Keladry glared at both her companions. "We are in the middle of an assignment, Neal! One involving national security! How can you think about lunch?"
Neal leaned forward. "Well, let me see. I haven't eaten since 6:30 this morning when you woke me up. It's noon. My poor stomach is making noises, Kel! I understand how serious this all is, but we're not the only officers on this case!" He folded his arms. "Sometimes you make me think that it has to be you who solves everything. It doesn't have to be, Kel. Pace yourself."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, you two go ahead and have lunch. I'm going in to question the next man on the list and dig up history on the two people before them."
Cleon pouted. "Kel, come on. You need to eat."
"I'll eat when I want to!" she cried and stormed off, swinging her arms stiffly at her sides.
Neal touched the redhead's shoulder. "Leave her. She's got some issues to work out."
"She was doing so well for a while. Do you know what happened?"
He nodded. "She just had a little dose of reality. Rejection sounds more like it."
The sharpshooter chuckled. "Rejection? I bet you could give her advice about that—OW!"
"Watch your mouth, clown-boy."
Cleon rubbed his right bicep where Neal had pinched him. The two DJPF officers left the station, planning to meet their favorite poker player during his lunch break. They exchanged painful, irritating pinches during the whole trip.
It was snowing harder than the day before. Snowplows were going all around the city, attempting to clear the streets for safe passage. Those with ground vehicles suffered traffic while those with hover vehicles needed only to use more solar energy and fuel than normal.
"How come we were issued a hover vehicle?" Cleon groaned.
"Because Flyn knew that every now and then, you would be driving the car. Must have scared him from the option," Neal replied, yawning. They were stuck in a long line of cars, moving only as fast as the snowplow could.
They contacted Faleron and asked him to take a late lunch break so that by the time they reached him, they could still eat together. Cleon even offered an invitation for Roald and Lalasa to join them, but his short civilian friend informed him that the couple was out walking in the riverside area.
"Okay then. We'll see you in about…" the redhead sighed and stuck his head out the car window so he could see the snowplow. "One hour."
"Close that window! You're letting the cold in, doofus!" Neal yelled.
Cleon withdrew back into the car and put the window up. They slumped into their seats and watched the snow drifting down onto their windshield.
"I miss sunny Tortall," Neal murmured. His eyelids drooped and he felt a yawn beginning to take over his mouth. "Aaahhh," he did so, and flexed his legs to stretch them out. "Winter makes me so tired. Especially in places where it's ten below zero."
His passenger snuggled in the warmth of his many coats. "It's not ten below. If it were, I'd be calling in sick every single day and staying at home with a huge electric blanket."
"Mmm. Electric blanket. Warm fuzziness on a cold winter day."
They smiled at each other.
~~
When they finally arrived at the office building where Faleron worked for Daine, he was organizing his employer's schedule and taking on some duties himself so she was not swamped with work. Roald and Lalasa had still not returned from their leisurely stroll, but it was awkward to have lunch with them anyway. Neal always felt like he was intruding upon a private, intimate conversation whenever he stood with them.
Faleron finished typing and saved the file. He put Daine's electronic organizer beside his computer so that the automatic laser sync would transfer the information. "Hold on, I'll be right with you," he told them, a tad impatient with the organizer. When it was done, he went into his employer's office and handed her the organizer. Faleron exited with a flourish, pushing the sliding wooden doors to each side and smiling like a showman. "Let's eat!"
Single women in the building watched the three young men stroll down the hall. They were often working overtime so they had few opportunities to search for potential husbands. Unfortunately for them, the majority of men working for the Council were married or engaged.
"Good afternoon, Faleron!" a young woman with short black hair called from her cubicle. She winked at him slyly and sat back down.
"Good afternoon!" he called back, out of politeness.
Neal frowned. "They do know you have a girlfriend, right?"
"And stop them from doing little favors for me—like running to the copy machine or going to the post office? Are you kidding me?" Faleron frowned. "I mean, I never take them up on their offers, but it doesn't hurt to be a little secretive about my personal connections."
The tall green-eyed man whistled. "You have some pretty women here. Think they'd go for a dashing young First Class DJPF officer?"
"No. These women are looking for diamond rings, chap. If you're not interested in commitment, they will throw you to the curb like that." Faleron snapped his fingers.
Cleon cringed. "Doesn't look like your kind of singles' place, Neal."
"No matter. I'll make do with what I can get elsewhere."
Even when they got to the lounge and bought their food, they continued their almost routine chat about the opposite sex. They sat at a circular table so they all had equal shares of space. And as per usual, they switched drinks halfway through the meal so that no man had whatever drink they had started with.
"I do find it terribly uncomfortable when they stare at me while I go by. I feel like a piece of meat," Faleron admitted before putting a forkful of Stir Fry vegetables into his mouth.
A plastic wrapped napkin fell to the floor. Neal bent down to reach for it, all the while talking from below the table. "I wouldn't mind. I pray on a regular basis to be stared at like a piece of meat! It's easier to bait a girl all ready interested instead of trying to get an uninterested girl to notice you."
"I'd be happy, too. I mean—that is if I didn't already have a girlfriend who could kick my ass if I so much as thought of another woman."
"But you think about them every time we have lunch and talk—"
"You know what I mean, Ice Cream Pants!"
He smiled. "Whatever you say, Grasshopper."
Neal rolled his eyes. "You two are so weird."
"Not as weird as you. We asked Kel about how you used to act in the Academy. Sunglasses and sliding down the dorm halls in your underwear and uniform jacket?" Faleron snickered. "You sound like that guy in the movie Risky Business."
Cleon tapped his fingers on the table thoughtfully. "Tom something. Aw, who cares?"
"Forget about that. Anything exciting happening in the nation's law enforcement?"
Both officers looked down at their food trays. Cleon shrugged it off casually. "Not much. There's this stolen software program that's like a skeleton key for everything you ever imagined that speaks a billion different languages, but," he raised and lowered his shoulders again in an over-exaggerated manner, "it's no biggie."
"That does sound important, though."
Neal coughed nervously. "It's supposed to be hush-hush. The Councils would go the Federation head in Tortall and have the entire DJPF drawn and quartered for the failure of the program retrieval."
The ex-thief winced. "That bad, huh?"
The resident sharp shooter made a sound similar to a whining dog. "Can we please pick a friendlier topic of conversation?"
"Women?" Faleron suggested
"Don't we always talk about women?" Neal griped
"Why do we do that?" Cleon asked in genuine wonder while slurping his soda. They continued to talk in due turns for the rest of the lunch break, though the sentences spoken weren't very significant or worth saying at all.
"We're men."
"Should we talk about men instead?"
"Why would we talk about ourselves?"
"Because there's more to men than talking about women!"
"I agree. Though at the moment, my mind is a blank except for that seemingly young lady staring at me from across the lounge."
"I think we've lost him," Cleon observed, waving his hand in front of Neal's face.
Faleron sighed. "Another casualty."
"Hhelllllloooo, Miss, would you like a side order of 'helpless-man' with that fine body of yours?"
His two lunch mates stared at him before shaking their heads. They returned to their meals with the known fact that intelligible conversation was impossible among them, even if they honestly attempted to grasp at it with all their wits. The clock chimed the hour and remained the only sound to reach the three men's ears besides the occasional slurping caused by a straw and an exceptionally hungry mouth.
~~
Roald couldn't have asked for a more picturesque winter day. The cold bothered many people trudging through the knee deep snow on the sidewalks, but since he and Lalasa were happily perched on a high rail just above the riverside boardwalks, they didn't have to deal with soaked and cold feet until they jumped off. The chilly weather served perfectly as an excuse to hold his girlfriend close to his side and allow her to nuzzle his scarf-covered neck with her cold nose.
He could catch pneumonia and not mind if she agreed to be his personal nurse—with chicken soup (hand fed) and all.
"Let's get out of here. If we don't, the canopies we walked under on our way here are going to give and the snow will drop down on us," Lalasa said. She grasped the rail with her hands and carefully swung one leg over. She successfully put both feet on the concrete and held out her hand to help him.
The Vice President's son followed suit. They resumed their previous stroll along the canopied sidewalks of riverside Tusaine and headed toward their place of occupation once more. Daine would not be too upset that they had stayed out later than usual. She hadn't intended to be driven anywhere and Faleron usually took over some of Lalasa's tasks when she was not there. Lalasa mentally made a note to buy her co-worker a belated winter holiday present.
"I think I'll buy Fal a nice silk tie to thank him for always covering for me," Lalasa said aloud.
"A tie?" Roald frowned. "You give all men a tie. You gave me a tie."
"I didn't give you only a tie," she corrected, staring at him in such a way that made Roald blush.
"Right. I forgot."
"Well, what else then?"
Her boyfriend shrugged as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I don't know. It used to be that you covered for him whenever Fal got dragged out of work to hang out with Cleon and Kel."
"Used to. We Sarrasri employees have been pushed to the stage wings now. Our DJPF friends are having their adventures without us now. We settled; they didn't."
Roald frowned. "I wouldn't say settled."
"Why not? We have steady jobs that don't require us to race around to disarm a bomb or risk our lives. We've become mundane and boring! Bor-ing," she pronounced each syllable loud and clear so he could not mistake it.
He looked at Lalasa with a worried face. "You're missing that exciting, night club life, aren't you?"
Her stomach twisted itself in a knot due to her guilt. "Sometimes. But I'd rather be here with you. Really, I would. Especially after that stupid fight we had months ago. I'm glad to be settled!"
He blushed. "Can we use another word besides 'settled'?"
"Why? Because it reminds you of marriage?" she taunted.
His whole face was now red and she knew it wasn't from the frosty winds.
Lalasa giggled. She leaned toward him and planted a quick kiss on his nose. He smiled shyly at her like a boy on his first date. He still amazed her with an attitude she could only describe as Roald-ness.
His expression changed. "Isn't that Stone? With a gun in hand?"
He pointed across and down the street where a familiar blond biker dressed in black had just removed his motorcycle helmet and was cocking a gun in broad daylight.
"Where are we?" Lalasa whispered.
"We must have wandered off our path," Roald murmured, still staring disbelievingly at the DJPF officer. He frowned. "Stone isn't in uniform. Why… the gun…?"
His girlfriend tugged at his arm. "Let's go, Roald. Remember what Kel said that one time? He used to work all the time as a secret operative. That's the technical term for some sort of spy or agent, I think." She growled in frustration. "He could be undercover! I don't care! Let's just get out of here! I've got a bad case of the creeps!"
He looked down at her jittery expression and decided that they'd better depart before anything bad happened. He rubbed her back comfortingly as he led her away in the opposite direction—whether or not it was the right way back to the Council office building.
~~
Keladry sat at her desk, tapping a pen stylus repeatedly against a gray pad that was supposed to be used for electronic signatures. She signed off on more information documents she had assembled concerning the Tkaa Project. Suspect after suspect had been individually crossed off. Currently, she was experimenting with imaginary webs associating different men and women in certain ways.
"Hey, Mindelan. Don't think too hard; your head will explode."
She looked up. "Major Linden. Good afternoon to you as well."
Ulliver leaned against her cubicle wall. "You know I hate it when you call me that. So what's got you stressed? Some lousy scum bucket just asking for his butt to be kicked?"
"No. Actually, all the scum of Tusaine seem to be keeping it quiet right now. Everyone's too frozen to move. Even them."
"Yeah. I'll say. Every five minutes, a snow plow passes my window!" He examined her with partially squinted eyes. "So it's not work-related."
It partially bothered her that he was sticking his nose in her business. Keladry pointed out to her skeptical mind that he had provided wonderful advice to her during the winter holiday security watch. So she decided that he could be trusted again with such matters.
"Not work related."
The SWAT team leader nodded. "Okay." He hummed two notes before looking back down at her. "Trouble in paradise?"
She snorted. "What paradise?"
He pushed off from her cubicle wall and shook his finger. "Oh! So you broke up with…? Oh!" He realized how loud he was and cleared his throat. In a milder voice, he said, "I'm sorry to hear that. Is that what's been bugging you?"
Keladry cringed. "No. Not entirely. It's part of it, but the other half is a bigger problem."
Ulliver knew right away that his temporary hope would once again stay unsatisfied. He nodded slowly and scratched his chin. "If this is about that blond 'wrestling' partner of yours, then I guess the only thing I have to say is fight for him. Don't fight him, but don't give up, either. Shove your way into his life." He looked over his shoulder, expecting the officer in question to show up at any given moment. "I don't know him that well, but I can tell he's stubborn. So you're just going to have to tough it out."
She felt the corner of her lips instinctively tugging upward in a smile. "Yeah. That makes a lot of sense. Thanks, Ulliver."
He sighed in resignation. "Yeah. You're welcome. See you around."
The rest of the day went a lot smoother and cheerier for Keladry than usual. But somewhere in the Special Weapons And Tactics Department, a certain major was cursing the gods for his habit of bad timing.
~~
Author: I did it! Another episode in one day! Okay… That's… four more episodes until the end of the season! And school… *sighs* starts tomorrow. *starts to cry softly*
Please tell me what you think, whether by review or email. In this depressing time, I'm going to need all the cheering up I can get…
-Sulia Serafine