A/N: Much to my misfortune, I do not own Charlie's Angels. I would be rich if I did. I wish I owned Crispin Glover. I wish I owned Alan Rickman, too, but that's a different story. All I've got at this point are Morgana and the Ciafatellis.
"Will you two be alright?" Bosley asked when they pulled up to Dylan's apartment building. Anthony and Dylan nodded. "'Night guys," she said quietly, and they got out of the car and headed up the stairs.
Morgana moved to get out as well. "Where do you think you're going?" Natalie asked. "I left my car here," Morgana replied acidly. She was tired, and although the adrenaline rush from singing was good, it was wearing off and she was not in the mood for blonde reasoning. The door slammed behind her, and Bosley drove off.
"Glad she's gone," sighed Natalie, leaning back.
"What do you mean?" asked Alex.
"Oh come on, Alex," she said, "She's a bitch."
"I like her," said Bosley. Natalie glared.
"Look," Alex rolled her eyes, "Just because she's not as perky as we are normally doesn't mean she's a bitch. She can fight really well."
"How do we know that?" asked Natalie.
"Hello? Watched her brother lately? And he said he taught her everything she knows. Which means she's as good as him, if not better."
"He's not that good."
"Nat, if that nuthatch hadn't chirped back on the Knox case, he's have sliced me into ribbons."
"Exactly. He tried to kill us."
"And then tried to save us."
"Because he was hired to."
"And now he's in love with Dylan. Look, as much as you dislike her, neither of them would hurt us, even though they're perfectly capable of it."
Natalie shrugged.
Dylan stared at herself in the mirror. She had changed out of her clothes and was wearing a pair of boxer shorts and an old white T-shirt. She pulled out her hair sticks and tossed her head, letting her hair fall haphazardly around her shoulders. Then she walked out of the bathroom and saw Anthony. He had taken off his shoes, tie, and suit coat and was getting ready to bed down on the couch.
"Please," she said, and he turned and saw her standing in the doorway, "Stay with me." He stood up and walked over to her, embracing her and kissing her forehead. "I won't let him hurt you," he promised. She smiled weakly.
She climbed in to bed, still holding on to him, and he followed. She had her back to him, and he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her to him until he had a firm hold around her waist. His nose was nestled conveniently in her gorgeous red hair. "Good night, Anthony," She whispered. His voice melted into her ear, "Good night, my angel."
Morgana sat alone in her dark, minimalist bedroom on her small bed. That bastard O'Grady was still alive. That worthless worm that had made her think her brother was dead for three months. If it was up to her, she would go after him right then. But, she was working for someone now, and had to wait for the order.
She made fun of herself. "Is this what you stoop to in your grief?" she asked her reflection in the plain mirror on her wall, "Taking orders from an appliance?" She shook the thought from her head. The angels weren't all bad. Dylan was her favorite of course; she liked her for the same reasons her brother loved her. She had fire, she had spirit, she was a loner in her own sense but she still needed companionship.
But that Natalie. It wasn't bad enough she was ditsy. She had to be a pretentious bitch too. Of course, she wasn't to Alex and Dylan and Bosley, not even to Anthony. Just to her. 'You know why,' she thought as she took off her tie while simultaneously kicking off her boots, 'She sees you as a threat.' She smirked, throwing off her suit jacket. 'We'll play off it then. Make a little game.'
Bosley poured himself a stiff drink and sat down on his leather sofa. He had changed into a flannel robe and slippers and propped his feet up on the coffee table. 'What's gotten in to you, Bos?' he wondered into the maple colored liquid, 'What's wrong?'
He knew. It was her. She spoke more, but she was as much of an enigma as her nearly silent brother. He couldn't forget her casual, confident air as she nonchalantly dropped the market value of a hand-made rug. He couldn't forget the power of her voice as she tore through Led Zeppelin and Ozzy Osbourne, resting in between with the silken Black Sabbath tune. "You're kidding yourself," he said aloud, "Like she would ever fall for a Bosley."
Pete was sound asleep when Natalie got home. Quietly, she crept into the bathroom and pulled out a makeup removal cloth, carefully cleaning each eyelash free of mascara. Morgana hadn't worn any makeup that night. So how was it that her face glowed flawless ivory under those stage lights? How was it that an assassin could have such a powerful singing voice?
'You're jealous,' said a voice in her head.
'I am not.'
'Yes, you are.'
'Not.'
She brushed out her hair. Morgana's was lank and pitch black without a conceivable lowlight or highlight. It fell at her neck and the ends moved restlessly every which way. Natalie's was blonde, with honey-toned streaks here and there. She pulled out her chandelier earrings and put them on her earring holder.
'Why would I be jealous of a cross-dresser, anyway?'
Jason was snoring comically, laying almost spread-eagled and taking up the whole bed. Alex sighed, shaking her head and smiling. She flopped down on the couch and looked up at the ceiling.
Why did Nat hate Morgana so much? She was rude to her from the beginning.
She was definitely feeling threatened by her. But why? Most Extreme scenario, she would be Dylan's sister-in-law. Nat was just judging before she knew someone well.
Alex decided that there was no reason not to give her the benefit of the doubt. Especially seeing that Charlie trusted her.
Charlie trusted Vivian Wood.
But this was different. They didn't know Wood. They didn't know Morgana either, but they knew her brother. Maybe it was because he had saved her neck, too, but Alex trusted Anthony. And if his sister was so devoted to him, she would trust her too.
'Nat'll come around,' she decided, and turned on her side to get some sleep.
'Am I doing the right thing?' Charles Townsend ruthlessly questioned.
'Of course you are,' he reassured himself, 'You've never led the angels astray before.'
Knox. DeSoto. Madison Lee.
He sighed. Anthony was in love with Dylan, that much he knew. All Charlie knew was that he had better not hurt her the way Knox had. The way O'Grady had.
Somehow, he knew that the assassin was sincere. And his sister! She was sharp as a razor, smart as a whip. In a way, they too were angels. Dark angels, with raven's wings. He smiled. Morgana's was more like a bat's wing. They watched over his girls, they watched over the nuns and their orphanage, and in a way they watched over him.
They had in their agile hands the very people who were most dear to them, and they held them as though they were glass. Even Natalie, he realized, Morgana was watching out for. Natalie had a bit of an attitude, that was certain. She was normally very sweet, though. He couldn't understand why she felt insecure. Morgana couldn't replace her. Wouldn't replace her. He knew, because he had once asked her...
He didn't finish the thought, for jet lag had finally caught up with him.
"Will you two be alright?" Bosley asked when they pulled up to Dylan's apartment building. Anthony and Dylan nodded. "'Night guys," she said quietly, and they got out of the car and headed up the stairs.
Morgana moved to get out as well. "Where do you think you're going?" Natalie asked. "I left my car here," Morgana replied acidly. She was tired, and although the adrenaline rush from singing was good, it was wearing off and she was not in the mood for blonde reasoning. The door slammed behind her, and Bosley drove off.
"Glad she's gone," sighed Natalie, leaning back.
"What do you mean?" asked Alex.
"Oh come on, Alex," she said, "She's a bitch."
"I like her," said Bosley. Natalie glared.
"Look," Alex rolled her eyes, "Just because she's not as perky as we are normally doesn't mean she's a bitch. She can fight really well."
"How do we know that?" asked Natalie.
"Hello? Watched her brother lately? And he said he taught her everything she knows. Which means she's as good as him, if not better."
"He's not that good."
"Nat, if that nuthatch hadn't chirped back on the Knox case, he's have sliced me into ribbons."
"Exactly. He tried to kill us."
"And then tried to save us."
"Because he was hired to."
"And now he's in love with Dylan. Look, as much as you dislike her, neither of them would hurt us, even though they're perfectly capable of it."
Natalie shrugged.
Dylan stared at herself in the mirror. She had changed out of her clothes and was wearing a pair of boxer shorts and an old white T-shirt. She pulled out her hair sticks and tossed her head, letting her hair fall haphazardly around her shoulders. Then she walked out of the bathroom and saw Anthony. He had taken off his shoes, tie, and suit coat and was getting ready to bed down on the couch.
"Please," she said, and he turned and saw her standing in the doorway, "Stay with me." He stood up and walked over to her, embracing her and kissing her forehead. "I won't let him hurt you," he promised. She smiled weakly.
She climbed in to bed, still holding on to him, and he followed. She had her back to him, and he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her to him until he had a firm hold around her waist. His nose was nestled conveniently in her gorgeous red hair. "Good night, Anthony," She whispered. His voice melted into her ear, "Good night, my angel."
Morgana sat alone in her dark, minimalist bedroom on her small bed. That bastard O'Grady was still alive. That worthless worm that had made her think her brother was dead for three months. If it was up to her, she would go after him right then. But, she was working for someone now, and had to wait for the order.
She made fun of herself. "Is this what you stoop to in your grief?" she asked her reflection in the plain mirror on her wall, "Taking orders from an appliance?" She shook the thought from her head. The angels weren't all bad. Dylan was her favorite of course; she liked her for the same reasons her brother loved her. She had fire, she had spirit, she was a loner in her own sense but she still needed companionship.
But that Natalie. It wasn't bad enough she was ditsy. She had to be a pretentious bitch too. Of course, she wasn't to Alex and Dylan and Bosley, not even to Anthony. Just to her. 'You know why,' she thought as she took off her tie while simultaneously kicking off her boots, 'She sees you as a threat.' She smirked, throwing off her suit jacket. 'We'll play off it then. Make a little game.'
Bosley poured himself a stiff drink and sat down on his leather sofa. He had changed into a flannel robe and slippers and propped his feet up on the coffee table. 'What's gotten in to you, Bos?' he wondered into the maple colored liquid, 'What's wrong?'
He knew. It was her. She spoke more, but she was as much of an enigma as her nearly silent brother. He couldn't forget her casual, confident air as she nonchalantly dropped the market value of a hand-made rug. He couldn't forget the power of her voice as she tore through Led Zeppelin and Ozzy Osbourne, resting in between with the silken Black Sabbath tune. "You're kidding yourself," he said aloud, "Like she would ever fall for a Bosley."
Pete was sound asleep when Natalie got home. Quietly, she crept into the bathroom and pulled out a makeup removal cloth, carefully cleaning each eyelash free of mascara. Morgana hadn't worn any makeup that night. So how was it that her face glowed flawless ivory under those stage lights? How was it that an assassin could have such a powerful singing voice?
'You're jealous,' said a voice in her head.
'I am not.'
'Yes, you are.'
'Not.'
She brushed out her hair. Morgana's was lank and pitch black without a conceivable lowlight or highlight. It fell at her neck and the ends moved restlessly every which way. Natalie's was blonde, with honey-toned streaks here and there. She pulled out her chandelier earrings and put them on her earring holder.
'Why would I be jealous of a cross-dresser, anyway?'
Jason was snoring comically, laying almost spread-eagled and taking up the whole bed. Alex sighed, shaking her head and smiling. She flopped down on the couch and looked up at the ceiling.
Why did Nat hate Morgana so much? She was rude to her from the beginning.
She was definitely feeling threatened by her. But why? Most Extreme scenario, she would be Dylan's sister-in-law. Nat was just judging before she knew someone well.
Alex decided that there was no reason not to give her the benefit of the doubt. Especially seeing that Charlie trusted her.
Charlie trusted Vivian Wood.
But this was different. They didn't know Wood. They didn't know Morgana either, but they knew her brother. Maybe it was because he had saved her neck, too, but Alex trusted Anthony. And if his sister was so devoted to him, she would trust her too.
'Nat'll come around,' she decided, and turned on her side to get some sleep.
'Am I doing the right thing?' Charles Townsend ruthlessly questioned.
'Of course you are,' he reassured himself, 'You've never led the angels astray before.'
Knox. DeSoto. Madison Lee.
He sighed. Anthony was in love with Dylan, that much he knew. All Charlie knew was that he had better not hurt her the way Knox had. The way O'Grady had.
Somehow, he knew that the assassin was sincere. And his sister! She was sharp as a razor, smart as a whip. In a way, they too were angels. Dark angels, with raven's wings. He smiled. Morgana's was more like a bat's wing. They watched over his girls, they watched over the nuns and their orphanage, and in a way they watched over him.
They had in their agile hands the very people who were most dear to them, and they held them as though they were glass. Even Natalie, he realized, Morgana was watching out for. Natalie had a bit of an attitude, that was certain. She was normally very sweet, though. He couldn't understand why she felt insecure. Morgana couldn't replace her. Wouldn't replace her. He knew, because he had once asked her...
He didn't finish the thought, for jet lag had finally caught up with him.