There's a disclaimer on the other chapters and only Jessica is mine.
Michael finished his meal quicker than the others, who seemed to be too busy listening to Dawson's tales of bravado to actually eat. Standing up, he scarpered, weaving his way to the kitchen. Jessica was sure enough sitting at the table, staring miserably at the bottle of Old Jack Daniels in front of her. She was talking to herself miserably as well and Michael approached as quietly as possible to hear what she was muttering about.
"… in there now yapping on about how he's so great and how he's rescued me, when it was me that's rescued his sorry arse every time, the bastard. I wish he'd just die…"
Michael coughed politely, attracting her attention.
"Holy shit," she slurred, the whiskey taking effect,
"You eat as fast as I do. Pull up a chair and help yourself to the whatever it is…erm…oh aye whiskey stuff."
Michael nodded and dragged a chair over from a bar area,
"Who were you talking about?"
"Oh Dawson," said Jessica taking another swig from the bottle,
"The little arsehole's been on my case for ever. Thinks he's God's bloody gift to women, me included, but he's so damned annoying. Well, I think so anyway, everyone else thinks he's brill."
"Oh. Say, you don't know what Devon and Oswald are talking about do you?"
"Nope. Ya know I used to know Devon. Met when I was like 15."
"What are you English or something?" Michael leant forward; the girl was too drunk to stop herself from giving away important information.
"Hell no! I'm Northern Irish. We're so much better and our accent rules and it's what gave me away isn't it?" she trailed off at the end, looking up.
"Yeah, it was American until you got drunk there and then it went slightly foreign."
That was true, she had put on a Texan accent until just there when it had turned into a harsh mixture Scottish and Irish and caused her to pronounce everything differently; for instance she pronounced Northern Ireland, 'Norn Iron'.
"Shit, sorry. Listen, I'll keep me American accent on for as long as possible so you can understand me but it might go N.I on me after a bit and enough whiskey," she grinned vaguely at him and picked another bottle of whiskey and a six-pack of Bud off the floor,
"Have somethin'. Can't have you dying from thirst on me now."
Michael dutifully pulled a beer from the pack and opened it, still staring at her as she gulped more whiskey down.
"Jessica…. Do you know why Devon and Oswald are acting so strange? It's getting annoying," said Michael sipping the frothy beer.
The girl slammed the whiskey bottle down hard on the table,
"Dunno 'bout you but Oswald normally acts like that. Nothing weird to me."
"Yes, but Devon's awful secretive. They sure as hell wanted me and RC out of that room while they were talking."
"Well, last time I checked, Oswald was retiring in June. None of the other law enforcement agencies want me since I have a nasty tendency to get my colleagues hurt."
She took another swig and added at Michael's terrified glance:
"Of course I don't mean to and it's never any fault of mine but not a single person on this god-forsaken planet believes me."
She snarled at the end of the sentence and waved the now empty Jack Daniel's bottle in front of Michael's nose.
"Y'know what? I hate everything. I hate Dawson, I hate Oswald, I hate every single person I've had to work with, I'd hate myself but I've had to much to drink to do that. I even hate this stuff and yet you can find me every night in this room with a bottle of this and a pack of cigarettes. And I hate smoking too! And y'know what's driven me to this?" She stood up and kicked the chair back, walking over to a patio window.
"Them. It's them. Oswald and his poncy bugger of a son, Dawson. They drive me mental, so I end up smoking to calm myself down and apparently Dawson's allergic to something to Diet Coke so I can't drink that at all! It isn't bloody fair!!"
Michael watched silently, all rants about the injustices of the world ended in the person slumped against a wall, normally crying.
"I'm sick of it. I'm sick of everything and I just wish I had someone who understood me. Who thinks life sucks too. Who I could talk to about everything and anything I wanted. It's just not fair…."
Jessica slid down the large window, eyes staring blankly ahead, glazed by the whiskey. Michael crunched the empty beer can and got up and crouched by her side,
"By the sounds of things, you'll be rid of them soon enough and I'll see if Kitt will listen to your sorrows, cause he's pretty damn good at listening to people complain about life." He coughed slightly; the whiskey fumes were really strong.
"I'd better stay away from naked flames, eh?" she laughed grimly and stood up wobbling.
"I'd advise it," replied Michael, "Want some water? You gotta be thirsty after that."
"Sure. Thanks."
Michael grabbed a glass from the sideboard and rinsed it before filling it with water and handing it to Jessica. She sat back down at the table and shuddered.
"Did I really go on like that?"
"Yeah," Michael sat down with a glass of water too,
"Don't worry about it. Sometimes it's good to get stuff like that off your chest"
"Huh. You're not the one who poured out their life's troubles to someone they just met earlier in the day."
"Hey, listen. People I'd only met a minute before have told me their entire life story in Technicolor."
They sniggered a bit and sat in silence watching the sky darken through the patio window. Just as Michael downed the last bit of water Dawson popped his head round the doorway.
"You two in the living room pronto," he drawled, winked at Jessica who clutched her glass tighter and disappeared again.
"Don't break the glass" said Michael pulling it out of her white-knuckled grip.
She gave him a wan smile and stood, gesturing towards the door. Michael nodded and set off towards the living room again.
Everyone else was already sitting in the room and the FLAG operatives were all looking grim, including RC who had obviously been let in on the secret.
"Please sit down Michael" said Devon nervously, trying to avoid his friend's eyes.
Michael had a sinking feeling about this; all of his friends were looking scared. Maybe they were going to replace him….? They wouldn't do that – would they?
"Michael, Miss. Dalzell is going to be joining our ranks soon," said Devon carefully looking at the wall,
"And you know that you and Kitt have proved an excellent team over the years, but we need reinforcements."
Thank god, thought Michael, I'm not fired then. But one little doubt here….
"But she'll need a partner. She can't work on her own," he said studying Devon's face.
"We're aware of that, Michael," Devon took a breath and sighed, "We're giving her Karr."
It's been done to death, I know, but I had the theory and the people and the means of writing it so why not. And I want everyone to know I thought of this loooong before I discovered fan fiction (the deprived soul I was then).
That'd be great if you could help me, StormDracona. You see I cannot get female characters at all – I may be a girl but I never got the point of pink and I started fancying people waaaaaay too early. And don't worry I'm only 14.