After rewatching Blitz, I just had to write a crossover with Brant and Kate. There will be topics/themes in this story that might be triggering. I don't think it is M worthy, but if it feels like it is, just let me know and I'll change it.

Blitz is not on the movie list yet (I've sent the request in), so it's under Misc. Movies for now. If it becomes a category, I'll change it.

Happy reading!


Detective Sergeant Tom Brant was not known for keeping his temper under wraps most of the time. Ask his partner, Sergeant Porter Nash (even Detective Inspector Craig Stokes agreed after being on the wrong end of it once or twice). And he hated being called Tom. He wanted nothing to do with his father, whom he was named after, and not using his name was a way of enforcing that in his mind.

No, Brant was known for using whatever means necessary to get the job done. His superiors didn't like it, but then they appreciated it when he did. Go figure.

He was surging through the streets of London towards a rundown building now, feeling anger pulsing through his veins. He didn't like this group he was infiltrating. He didn't like being undercover. Why anyone thought it was a good idea to send him in disguised as a dirty, rotten bastard, he'd never know.

Maybe it had something to do with the temper...

He flung the door open, making two armed men look at him. One reached for his pistol in its holster out of reflex.

"Relax," Brant said gruffly. "I'm here for the meet up. Where is he?"

"In there," the other one said, gesturing. Brant walked past, feeling on edge and his skin prickling. He found the ringleader, Norman Haggerty, standing off to the side as four women kneeled on the floor in front of him. Brant swallowed his rage and bile. He couldn't wait to have this case over so he could kill Norman. Jail be damned, and why give him the chance to escape? No, he was not going to let this man have the luxury of breathing after this was over, no matter what his bosses said.

"Mr. Goodwin," Norman said to him now. "Glad you could make it."

Brant gave a curt nod. He'd gone with Brant Goodwin as his undercover name. It seemed like a good idea at the time because the good was damn well going to win after all of this.

"The others are coming."

"Fine."

Brant took in each woman, working his jaw. They were in dirty attire after being shipped across the ocean. Only two were gagged while two sat silent. Their arms were bound behind them. Norman liked to traffic girls and women. Sometimes he did boys and men for hard labor, but not often. Norman liked to traffic drugs as well. He liked it even more when his gang bangers picked a woman he brought and essentially used them for whatever they wanted and turned them out...the cash coming back to him, of course. Brant had not participated in this in the time he'd been involved.

Until today.

"I was beginning to question your loyalty," Norman said to him now, making Brant look at him again. "No one else on my team declines this opportunity."

"You didn't bring any decent ones before," Brant retorted, hating the sound of those words. He looked back at the one woman in particular. He could clearly see how scared she was.

Moose, Justin, and Kip walked in then, full swagger. Moose lived up to his name by being big and bulky, dark eyed, dark skin, and dark hair. Justin was an obvious user, skinny, pale, and sickly looking with limp blonde hair and foggy blue eyes. Kip was stocky and broad, tanned, and with a shaved head of brown hair and green eyes. Brant could see Kip eyeing up the same woman he was, and he knew he had to act fast.

"Alright, we're all here," Norman said now, his cold, grey eyes having a gleam to them almost. He was also in good shape with a decent tan. Brant could see the scar on Norman's arm as he walked. "You know what to do."

Brant was quick. He clamped his hand on the arm of the woman he was after, and he hauled her up hard and fast.

"Hey," Kip started, moving to stop him. Brant pulled out his gun and aimed it at Kip's head, making everyone pause.

"It's done," he said. "And if anyone ever touches her, they'll be ripped apart limb by limb, got it? She's my property now." Again, he felt sick saying it, and he could feel her fear next to him, but he had to be believable or they were both screwed.

"You heard him," Norman said to Kip. He nodded at Brant. "Good choice. Watch her, though, she's feisty."

"Understood." Brant moved to walk away, hauling her with him. She was one of the ones who was gagged; he guessed she'd been vocal and fighting for her life. He didn't blame her. He'd do the same thing.

He got her to his car, keeping his gun on her so she wouldn't freak out or attack him. Once he got to the place he was renting for this job in an abandoned, sketchy part of town, he stopped and parked. She was breathing hard when he pushed his door open and went around to get her.

"Come on," he said, pulling her out. She tried to drag her feet, so he just hoisted her up and slung her over his shoulder. He held her legs so she couldn't kick him. After getting inside, he set her down onto a kitchen chair. Then he pulled the tape off her mouth.

"Please don't," she said instantly, sounding emotional despite trying not to. "Just let me go. I won't say a word. I swear to God." He ignored her as he did a quick sweep of his place to check for bugs. She was still trying to bargain her way out of this when he finished.

He opened his pocket knife then, and she whimpered. He knelt down in front of her.

"Kate Thatcher," he said, and she gave a slight nod.

"Yes," she whispered, seeing he wanted a verbal confirmation.

"But you're really FBI Special Agent Kate Macer," he said, making her jaw drop in shock. "I'm Detective Sergeant Tom Brant. I understand you've been undercover back home with this group and wound up here."

"Y-You're a cop?" she asked. He held up his badge and I.D. he'd just collected to show her, and she stared at it.

"Your handler reached out to us saying you went dark, and he had a bad feeling about it. Since I was working the case, your file got put on my desk to look out for you. As luck would have it, you were here tonight, saving me from having to pick another girl or getting shot cos I wouldn't."

Kate wasn't saying anything, just breathing and trying to focus.

"Now," Brant said, resting his hands on her knees. She flinched, and he felt bad, but he needed her to stay grounded. "This is your chance to get out, Kate. I'll make up something to Norman...beat myself up a little to make it look like you whupped my arse and escaped. You don't have to stay and deal with this anymore." He held her gaze, and he could already see her answer forming.

"I'm staying," she said firmly. "I've invested too much into this already."

"You're a kidnap specialist, right?"

"Yes."

"Who are you looking for?" He knew that was the reason she was staying.

"An old friend's daughter," she answered quietly. "I think she's over here."

"Did you intentionally work it that you'd get sent here too?"

"You're smart," she said, tilting her head at him. "Yes, I did. My handler doesn't know that. He thinks it's an accident."

"It stays with me," Brant promised. He got up and went to cut her hands free. She brought them around and rubbed at her wrists gingerly. He went to get her some water and something to eat, keeping an eye on her every so often.

"So what now?" she asked finally, looking at him as he set down a glass in front of her and slid over a plate of crackers and cheese. She was quick to nip them up in her fingers and stick them in her mouth. He wondered when she'd eaten last. He knew she was probably trying to forget her experience of going across the ocean.

"I inform my boss that you're working with us."

"Thank you, Tom."

"No," he said curtly, making her startle a bit. "Just Brant."

"Okay."

"Also, I'm Brant Goodwin to these guys. I'm not known to be nice," he added. "So you're gonna have to play the part if you want to stay in this, got it?"

She swallowed before nodding slowly.

"I got it."

"Trust no one but me in this circle. Outside of it, you can trust my partner, Porter Nash, and my colleague, Craig Stokes, but be leery of anyone else."

"Okay."

"I've spent six months doing this," Brant said, giving her a stern look. "You're not wrecking it on me because you want to go all hero."

"I won't," she promised. "I'm your bitch."

"Don't say that," he barked.

"Well, to Norman I am," she advised. "I'm playing the part, remember?" It really did unsettle him inside to act this part, but if it saved people, then it was worth it.

"I've almost got him," Brant told her. "I just need to make connections to how he transports the drugs and the girls. Then it's over."

"What about his partner back home?" Kate asked. "Elijah Hamilton?"

"Once Norman falls, he will too."

"You promise?"

"Yes."

"You'll help me find my missing girl?"

"I'll try."

"You really have to trust me too, don't you?" she asked, scanning his face.

"Yea, I do," he answered. "Don't make me regret it."

...

Kate shivered a little as she tried to sleep. Brant's living quarters was noisy from street sounds and sirens, among other things. The screams and shouts were a bit unnerving when they occurred. She pulled the blanket farther up to her chin, feeling bad he took the couch. She was still trying to process what had happened earlier. One minute she was stuck in a shipping container with three other women and the next minute, she was waiting for some guy to collect her and make her life a living hell. She had not expected a local cop to pick her out of the group and offer her an escape.

No way was she leaving now, though. She'd promised her brother she'd get Delia back. She felt bad for that small fib to Brant. It wasn't her old friend's daughter missing but her own niece. She knew if she'd said it was family, he'd definitely kick her off the case. Having it be a friend's child was bad enough.

She thought about Brant a bit. He was definitely gruff and tough, but she could tell he was sickened by the actions this group carried out. She could tell he was a good man.

She fell into a fitful sleep. Nightmares of Delia reaching out for her and screaming rotated between a face leering down at her, their hands holding her down and preparing to—

"No!" she half gasped, half shrieked. Her arms and legs flailed, trapped under her sheets. She fell off the bed and onto the floor, trying to breathe and stop her crying. She saw the light turn on in the living room, and she turned her head to look at it. She waited for him to come and check on her, but he didn't. She appreciated that he was giving her the space but also letting her know he was there.

Kate pushed herself up and fixed the sheets. She stared at the bed, trying to will herself to crawl back into it and sleep again, but she couldn't. She rubbed her arms, grabbing the hoodie Brant had left for her and tugging it on over her head as she padded out to get something to drink. Brant was sitting up on the couch, a finger curled against his lips as he held a file in his hands.

"Did I wake you?" she asked, pausing a few feet away from him. He glanced at her.

"No," he answered. "Just had a thought and am trying to piece it together."

It felt like a small lie, but she let him have it. "Need some help?"

"Not right now."

"Please," she said, making him look at her again. "I...I need the distraction." She watched him survey her and then give a curt nod. She abandoned the drink idea and went to sit next to him after he shifted to make room for her. He leaned forward and spread out the contents of the file on the coffee table for her to see.

"I can't figure out how he is moving the drugs," Brant advised. "I thought maybe by the girls, old tunnels, or hidden in crates on trucks...nothing."

Kate picked up some of the papers and photos, thinking hard. There were a lot of photos of nice, fancy cars in the pile.

"He likes his cars, huh," she noted.

"He does races."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Nothing should surprise you with him." He gave a sigh and pressed his fingers into his closed eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"I wish I could help you with the smuggling of women," Kate said quietly. "I was drugged, though, when they got me. I woke up in a container with three other women. When we got here, they put bags over our heads before taking us out."

Brant made a type of grunting noise of confirmation. Kate rested her elbows on her knees as she leaned forward, her hand against her cheek. His handwriting was terrible, but she was able to read it...mostly.

"You said you had a partner?" she asked, turning her head to look at him.

"Yea. Nash."

"You trust him?"

"With my life," Brant answered. He wasn't looking at her as he reached to slide photos around on the table.

"I have a partner too. Reggie."

"Mhmm."

Kate could tell he wasn't really interested. It made her feel a little bit irritated. She was in a strange place on a different continent after being shipped in a damn container and roughed up a bit by bad guys. Where was his empathy?

"You don't converse much with people, do you?" she asked. He looked at her finally.

"What?"

"It's typical in a conversation to hold eye contact and at least pretend you care a little."

He stared at her, and she thought for a moment he was going to let her have it, but then he started to laugh. She wasn't sure how to take that.

"I'm sorry," he said, still chuckling a little. "Did you think we were gonna be best friends?"

"No," Kate said curtly, standing up. "I just thought you'd at least be decent." She started to walk away when he called out after her.

"I don't get close to people," he said, making her stop and turn to look at him again. "It has never ended well for me."

"Me either, but I still try," she retorted. "If we just gave up on everyone, we're in for a very sad, lonely existence." He simply pressed his lips together without saying anything else, so she went back to bed. Maybe she was being unrealistic, but if they were going to be working together, she felt like there should be some sort of camaraderie between them. She didn't want to be stuck dealing with an emotionless brick wall.

She tossed and turned for a while, but eventually, she fell asleep.

The Next Day

"You're being nice to her I hope," Porter Nash was saying in Brant's ear. Brant held the phone close, shooting glances at the closed bedroom door.

"Of course," he said indignantly. "Why would you even say that?"

"Because I know you," Porter said with a chuckle. "And I know how long it takes you to trust someone."

"People have to earn it," Brant reasoned.

"And lucky for me, I earned it quick," Porter replied. "But she's probably scared, Brant. She's been through hell, and now she's stuck with you. Just...be nice."

"Alright, Dad," Brant said sarcastically. "I'll share the ball."

"Don't go all Donald Duck on her either."

"I do not appreciate that comparison," Brant said grouchily.

"You said she was looking for someone?" Porter went on, ignoring him. Brant could hear him shuffling papers in the background.

"Yea."

"I can try to help find them if you give me a name."

"I'll try to get it from her."

Brant heard movement now, and he ended the call with Nash and moved to the kitchen by the time Kate emerged. He internally winced at her attire. He was going to have to fix that today. She seemed surprised when he handed her a mug of coffee. She put her hands around it, but he held firm to the handle to stop her from taking it entirely, which made her look into his eyes. He needed her to know that he'd heard her last night and wanted to make an effort to change.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'll do better."

She looked a little surprised and a bit relieved. "Thank you."

He let go, and she went to sit down, taking a sip. He grabbed the toast when it came up and slid it to her on a plate across the table as well, along with a jar of jam, butter, and a knife.

"What is our plan today?" she asked between chewing.

"Get you something to wear first," he advised. "Wait for instructions from Norman. Pick up some cash from Nash." He snickered to himself at his little rhyme. Kate lifted a brow.

"Cash for what?"

"Your hooking."

"Excuse me?" she asked, outraged.

"Calm down," he stated. "That's part of your job, but you're not actually going to be doing it. As long as I give Norman the money, he'll think you're doing it."

"Oh."

She finished eating while he tidied up a bit. Then he dug around for a cigarette until he found one and stuck it in his mouth. He was going to the balcony to light it when Kate stopped him.

"You smoke?"

"What?" he asked. "You gonna lecture me too?" Porter liked to do that. Constantly. Annoyingly.

"On the contrary," Kate answered. "Mind if I bum one?" This surprised Brant, but he felt another small bit of connection with her for some reason. Maybe it was stupid to connect with someone over a cigarette, but what it meant to him was that she wouldn't judge him for it.

"Sure." He handed her one. She stood up and sipped her coffee again before setting the mug down and following him to the balcony. He lit his first and then held the lighter under hers after she stuck it in her mouth and bent her head towards him. She inhaled and then exhaled, a look of satisfaction on her face followed by a delighted groan. Brant knew the feeling.

"I've tried to quit so many times," she said, blowing smoke.

"But the grip of nicotine is too strong," Brant finished for her, and she nodded. He knew it was a bit ironic since his sister had struggled with addiction and all, but everyone had a vice, and this one was his.

"Seems to be," she murmured, taking another drag.

"Nash said he'd start looking for your person," Brant said now, watching her face carefully. As suspected, there was more to this person that she'd let on. He wasn't an idiot. "What's her name?"

"Delia," Kate answered carefully.

"Full name."

"Delia Montenegro."

"What aren't you telling me about her?" he pressed. She put the cigarette in her mouth, buying time. He held his stare on her.

"Nothing," she tried after exhaling again. The smoke curled and floated away with the breeze.

"Kate, part of building trust is honesty. If you're lying to me, this isn't going to work."

"If I tell you, you'll just kick me off the case," she reasoned.

"Maybe, maybe not. Why don't you let me decide that?"

She looked a bit aggravated, but she let out a sigh after a moment. "She's my niece."

Brant wasn't sure whether to laugh or get pissed. Of course this was a huge conflict of interest, but he also knew that if it was him, he'd do the exact same thing...to hell with anyone who got in his way. Kate was watching him warily, and he debated on what to do as he chewed on the inside of his bottom lip for a moment. Then he sucked his teeth.

"I don't like it, but you've put yourself through a lot to get here, so I won't kick you out."

"I appreciate that."

"Do I have your word that you will do exactly as I say when I say it?" he asked.

"Depends," she replied, sipping her coffee again.

"I mean it."

"No offense, Brant, but I'm an experienced agent. I know how to call shots and make decisions."

"At home. You're not at home right now," he advised. "You're in my sandbox, so you go by my rules."

"If you're wondering if I'll lose my head because it's my niece we're dealing with, you don't have to worry about it," she stated. "I do know how to keep my cool."

"Good, but you're still gonna obey my orders."

There was a stare standoff for a moment, but then Kate finally gave a curt nod of understanding. Satisfied, Brant put out his cigarette and then went inside to collect his jacket and gun.

"Come on," he said to her. She put hers out too, came inside after shutting the sliding door and locking it, and stuffed the last piece of toast from her plate into her mouth before cramming her feet into her shoes. He walked them to his car, looking around carefully. Kate hugged herself from the wind and shivered.

"Damp and rainy, just like they said," she commented. Brant made a face and opened the car door for her. She got in, and he shut it hard. Once they were off, he cranked the heater up.

"So basically my job is to satisfy you and the general public?" she asked.

"Basically."

"What about general labor?"

"He usually sends boys and men in that direction."

"Oh."

He pulled into a parking lot and stopped, shutting the engine off. He looked at her.

"Tell me your size," he said.

"I can't come with you?"

"You wanna go in there looking like that?" he countered, and she crossed her legs.

"Fine." She told him, and he went inside.

...

Kate was bouncing her leg impatiently when Brant returned. She eyed up the bags as he put them in the backseat.

"Really?" she said, noticing some of the items. At least he'd gotten some jeans, hoodies, and t-shirts, though.

"Have you already forgotten you have a role to play?" he asked, annoyed. "I know it's shitty, but it is what it is."

"I know. I just don't like men buying my lingerie," she retorted.

"Too bad."

She glowered slightly as he started driving again. Despite her irritation, she was grateful that he'd pulled her out of what would have been a disaster. She shivered to think that the other women hadn't been this lucky. It made her harden her resolve to end this as quickly as she could. Then she saw something, and her heart lurched. Without thinking, she reached to grab Brant's arm.

"Oi!" he exclaimed, startled as her fingers dug into him hard.

"Stop!" she shouted. He hit the brakes, and she shoved open the car door before it even came to a full stop and jumped out.

"KATE!" he hollered after her, but she wasn't stopping.

"Delia!" she cried, running harder after the figure she'd seen disappear into the shadows. "Deliaaa!" She rounded the corner only to find herself face to face with the barrel of a gun, a sick smile on the face of the man holding it.