Title: Relic Hunter
Author: SRu
Summary: Lydecker and a friend pick up some lost luggage.
Rating: PG
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel. This is just for fun.
Spoilers: None, but it will make more sense if you read "Dawn takes in a Stray" first.
Relic Hunter.
Dawn leaned against the cool steel door of the storage unit. The flashlight in her hand was off, so she couldn't tell what color the thing would be in daylight.
Lydecker crouched with his face next to the lock, and tugged it experimentally with a gloved hand.
"Okay, light now," he whispered, putting a hand on her hip and pulling her so the lock was almost resting against her stomach. She switched the light on, and the six-inch pool of brightness shone on the lock, her jacket, and the turquoise blue paint of the door.
He held his right glove in his teeth, and for a long couple of minutes the steel tools made tiny scraping sounds inside the padlock. Then he tugged, and the lock snapped open.
"Kill it," he mumbled. The tools went back in his pocket, and his hand disappeared back into the glove.
She waited in the dark while he rummaged around inside. She didn't feel like she was missing anything. Rental storage units all looked alike: a square room with concrete block walls and a concrete floor. Close it with a garage door, and the only thing to distinguish one from the other was the sign in front.
"What's in the bag?" she asked when they were back in her truck.
He shook his head, and stared out the window at the black shapes of trees silhouetted against the dark sky.
Dawn followed Dek up the stairs to her apartment. In the light, the signs of wear were evident on the black nylon bag. Its zipper pull had been replaced by a paper clip, among other things. When she opened the door, he dropped the bag more or less in the center of the living room carpet.
She latched the door behind her, and hung up her jacket while Lydeker leaned into one corner of the sofa and settled into the cushions. "Okay. . . What now?" she wondered, and took off her sneakers.
The bag didn't do anything interesting, and he didn't seem to be looking at it, not really.
Dawn dropped her keys on the corner of the kitchen counter, and his eyes finally tracked to meet hers.
"Relics from the past, Dawn. You should probably open it before the suspense kills you." She decided that his expression wasn't a smile, but was probably as close as she was going to get for the moment.
She sat cross-legged on the floor next to the bag. The zipper protested when she pulled on the paperclip, but a few energetic tugs separated the two rows of brass teeth.
She poked experimentally at the lump of burgundy towel that had clearly been the last thing into the bag, however long ago it had been packed. When she reached in with both hands to lift it out, her fingers touched a slick vinyl surface underneath it.
It was a little bit too heavy to be just a towel, and she set it down on the rug. One corner came free, and she was startled by a faint metal noise. "Like quarters sliding across each other, " she thought. "Halfway between poker chips and washers."
Unfolding the towel revealed gold coins, sewn to the edge of a wide, curved red belt. Dawn picked it up, and decided that it would settle at hip level on someone with a more generous bottom than hers. She gave it a little shake, and the coins rang, like tiny wind chimes. The red-and gold sequin design seemed to flicker in the light. The next fold of towel muffled a bra with the same coins and the same red and gold embroidery.
"The rest is under the photo album," interrupted Dek. He had one foot on the edge of the couch, and was untying the shoelace.
Dawn pulled out the vinyl-covered binder, and looked in bag. Bright red material rested in a swirl or a knot. When she let it hang from her hands, it was clearly a skirt that would hang almost to the floor. Along with the belt and the bra, it would be a belly-dancer's costume, in red and gold.
She settled the album in her lap, hooked her fingers under the edge of the front cover, and raised her eyebrows. Lydecker nodded, so she opened it.
The pictures fascinated her. A dark-haired dancer was frozen in mid-step, with a sweep of bronze-colored fabric trailing behind her. Other pictures showed her in other costumes and other poses. Sometimes her hair was curly, sometimes straight, and sometimes hidden by a turban, but the girl was always beautiful.
"That's why I couldn't stop drinking," he said when Dawn looked up from the book. "I had this Zen riddle in my head. I've got the bells, but what good are the bells without the dancer? After a couple of drinks, I started to think that it might make sense. It never did."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, closed the album and tried to put it back in the bag. Something else was in there; she would look at it later. She stood up, and crossed the room.
"If I had a choice," he continued, "Angel would still be here, and I wouldn't care where all of that junk was." Dawn sat down on the couch next to him.
"She was beautiful. Wouldn't you have been sorry if she'd quit dancing?" Dawn rested her hand on his knee.
"Angel was a tremendously gifted athlete. She would have been good at anything she wanted to do, and that was what she wanted." He shifted a little, and leaned closer to her. "You would have liked her."
Dawn imagined the dancer with grey in her hair, and a bit more weight. The two of them would have some kids, who would be Dawn's age by now. Colonel and Mrs. Lydecker would have holiday parties with all the relatives, and too much food. Dek would greet her when she came in, and bring her a drink, then Dawn would leave when the party was over, and go home by herself. "I don't think I would, Dek." She wanted to cry. "How can I be jealous of someone who's dead?" she scolded herself silently.
"Angel and I were total opposites," said Lydecker, running his fingers through the hair at the back of Dawn's neck. "People do what I want because they are scared not to. They would do what she wanted just *because*. She'd smile, and somehow anything she said seemed reasonable."
"Did that work on everyone?"
"Yes, absolutely everyone."
Dawn leaned forward to drag the bag towards her. She rested it on her feet, and reached under the photo album. Her fingers closed around something leather.
"So that was where those were!" Lydecker looked at the cowboy boot that Dawn held in her hand. "I think that answers your question."
"What question?" She reached in and found the other one.
"Well, you have the cowboy." He smiled, for real this time. "Did you ever feel like the boots were missing?"
Author: SRu
Summary: Lydecker and a friend pick up some lost luggage.
Rating: PG
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel. This is just for fun.
Spoilers: None, but it will make more sense if you read "Dawn takes in a Stray" first.
Relic Hunter.
Dawn leaned against the cool steel door of the storage unit. The flashlight in her hand was off, so she couldn't tell what color the thing would be in daylight.
Lydecker crouched with his face next to the lock, and tugged it experimentally with a gloved hand.
"Okay, light now," he whispered, putting a hand on her hip and pulling her so the lock was almost resting against her stomach. She switched the light on, and the six-inch pool of brightness shone on the lock, her jacket, and the turquoise blue paint of the door.
He held his right glove in his teeth, and for a long couple of minutes the steel tools made tiny scraping sounds inside the padlock. Then he tugged, and the lock snapped open.
"Kill it," he mumbled. The tools went back in his pocket, and his hand disappeared back into the glove.
She waited in the dark while he rummaged around inside. She didn't feel like she was missing anything. Rental storage units all looked alike: a square room with concrete block walls and a concrete floor. Close it with a garage door, and the only thing to distinguish one from the other was the sign in front.
"What's in the bag?" she asked when they were back in her truck.
He shook his head, and stared out the window at the black shapes of trees silhouetted against the dark sky.
Dawn followed Dek up the stairs to her apartment. In the light, the signs of wear were evident on the black nylon bag. Its zipper pull had been replaced by a paper clip, among other things. When she opened the door, he dropped the bag more or less in the center of the living room carpet.
She latched the door behind her, and hung up her jacket while Lydeker leaned into one corner of the sofa and settled into the cushions. "Okay. . . What now?" she wondered, and took off her sneakers.
The bag didn't do anything interesting, and he didn't seem to be looking at it, not really.
Dawn dropped her keys on the corner of the kitchen counter, and his eyes finally tracked to meet hers.
"Relics from the past, Dawn. You should probably open it before the suspense kills you." She decided that his expression wasn't a smile, but was probably as close as she was going to get for the moment.
She sat cross-legged on the floor next to the bag. The zipper protested when she pulled on the paperclip, but a few energetic tugs separated the two rows of brass teeth.
She poked experimentally at the lump of burgundy towel that had clearly been the last thing into the bag, however long ago it had been packed. When she reached in with both hands to lift it out, her fingers touched a slick vinyl surface underneath it.
It was a little bit too heavy to be just a towel, and she set it down on the rug. One corner came free, and she was startled by a faint metal noise. "Like quarters sliding across each other, " she thought. "Halfway between poker chips and washers."
Unfolding the towel revealed gold coins, sewn to the edge of a wide, curved red belt. Dawn picked it up, and decided that it would settle at hip level on someone with a more generous bottom than hers. She gave it a little shake, and the coins rang, like tiny wind chimes. The red-and gold sequin design seemed to flicker in the light. The next fold of towel muffled a bra with the same coins and the same red and gold embroidery.
"The rest is under the photo album," interrupted Dek. He had one foot on the edge of the couch, and was untying the shoelace.
Dawn pulled out the vinyl-covered binder, and looked in bag. Bright red material rested in a swirl or a knot. When she let it hang from her hands, it was clearly a skirt that would hang almost to the floor. Along with the belt and the bra, it would be a belly-dancer's costume, in red and gold.
She settled the album in her lap, hooked her fingers under the edge of the front cover, and raised her eyebrows. Lydecker nodded, so she opened it.
The pictures fascinated her. A dark-haired dancer was frozen in mid-step, with a sweep of bronze-colored fabric trailing behind her. Other pictures showed her in other costumes and other poses. Sometimes her hair was curly, sometimes straight, and sometimes hidden by a turban, but the girl was always beautiful.
"That's why I couldn't stop drinking," he said when Dawn looked up from the book. "I had this Zen riddle in my head. I've got the bells, but what good are the bells without the dancer? After a couple of drinks, I started to think that it might make sense. It never did."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, closed the album and tried to put it back in the bag. Something else was in there; she would look at it later. She stood up, and crossed the room.
"If I had a choice," he continued, "Angel would still be here, and I wouldn't care where all of that junk was." Dawn sat down on the couch next to him.
"She was beautiful. Wouldn't you have been sorry if she'd quit dancing?" Dawn rested her hand on his knee.
"Angel was a tremendously gifted athlete. She would have been good at anything she wanted to do, and that was what she wanted." He shifted a little, and leaned closer to her. "You would have liked her."
Dawn imagined the dancer with grey in her hair, and a bit more weight. The two of them would have some kids, who would be Dawn's age by now. Colonel and Mrs. Lydecker would have holiday parties with all the relatives, and too much food. Dek would greet her when she came in, and bring her a drink, then Dawn would leave when the party was over, and go home by herself. "I don't think I would, Dek." She wanted to cry. "How can I be jealous of someone who's dead?" she scolded herself silently.
"Angel and I were total opposites," said Lydecker, running his fingers through the hair at the back of Dawn's neck. "People do what I want because they are scared not to. They would do what she wanted just *because*. She'd smile, and somehow anything she said seemed reasonable."
"Did that work on everyone?"
"Yes, absolutely everyone."
Dawn leaned forward to drag the bag towards her. She rested it on her feet, and reached under the photo album. Her fingers closed around something leather.
"So that was where those were!" Lydecker looked at the cowboy boot that Dawn held in her hand. "I think that answers your question."
"What question?" She reached in and found the other one.
"Well, you have the cowboy." He smiled, for real this time. "Did you ever feel like the boots were missing?"
