![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fic: crossover written for womenverse, Excalibur/Person of Interest, PG
This is rough, unedited, and too long to post as one comment (AND i HATE multiple comments). Also untitled.
Fandoms: X-Men (technically, Excalibur), Person of Interest
Characters: Kitty Pryde, Joss Carter
Prompt: dog years (not that I'm sure how it applies to this, but it's what I've got)
Length: 1000+
When Alistaire Stuart called you up and asked for a favor--and you owed him more than a few (and he owed you)--one tended to do as requested. For Kitty Pryde, that meant getting herself added to MI-6's database as an agent, manufacturing orders for herself and landing up in a police station.
Not in handcuffs, of course.
Joss Carter was someone that Alistaire wanted Kitty to check into, as he thought she might have a connection to something he'd heard about on the grapevine. Just what that something was, he'd been deliberately vague about. The sort of vague that had Kitty packing an extra kit, laptop included, and setting up a safehouse before even venturing to her appointment.
Reading her jacket on the way up in the elevator, Kitty discovered she was some sort of financial accounting agent, looking into irregularities in the fine city of New York's murder squads. She squinted at it, wishing that it wasn't obvious Alistaire had farmed out the jacket to sub-standard contractors. Even Torchwood did better work, as far as she'd seen. Her cover would hold, but the description of her job and duties was sorely lacking.
Still, she could roll with it, and stopped in the ladies to get rid of the file in a manner which would only have worked for her. The mice living between the walls would probably appreciate the new nesting materials.
Detective Carter was reading over a similar folder as Kitty approached her desk, and didn't look exactly thrilled about it. She looked even less thrilled when Kitty caught her attention and introduced herself. There hadn't been much on Carter in the notes she'd read, but enough to know that the other woman would resent the interference in an outside agency into whatever they were supposedly investigating.
With the mandate handed to the captain, Kitty could request as much--or as little--of the detective's time as she felt like. She made a note to take only as much as she needed for her true mission. The precinct looked as over-worked as normal, and taking her away from a legitemate case for Alistaire's little shot in the dark wouldn't help matters. Still, discussing it here--the real reason--would be a bad idea, not to mention something she wasn't comfortable with.
"Coffee?" she suggested, and the detective acquiesced with an annoyed sigh.
Kitty made small talk as they walked down the stairs. As they reached the bottom, she found her gaze passing over an older, bald man. Recognition didn't make her stumble until they were out in the open air. For that, she was grateful.
Scratch. What the hell was Scratch doing in Manhattan, in the same police precinct that Alistaire had sent her to?
Chills ran down her spine at the very idea of encountering him again. True, it had been years, but she was still angry over what he'd done to her friends, her lover, her family (no blood relation, but Excalibur had been close then). Rage swept over her, coloring everything red, and she found her hands clenching into fists.
A dog barked, jerking her out of herself, and she tried to plaster a smile on her face as a man jogged past with a german shepherd on a leash. Police dog, probably.
Drawing in a deep breath, Kitty knew it was only a matter of time before her cover was blown. Scratch wouldn't hesitate to try to kill her--suddenly, setting up a safehouse seemed like it had been the best idea she'd had in a long time.
"Agent Pryde?"
Carter jostled her, nodding at the Starbucks, "You gonna go in, or stand out here admiring the Halloween display?"
Releasing her breath, Kitty grabbed the door. "I'm thinking pumpkin latte."
Her voice was even, steady, but her hand on the door handle was shaking if she looked too hard at it. Nerves, she snapped at herself. Get ahold of yourself, it's only nerves. He didn't see you, you're safe. Alistaire wouldn't have sent you here if he'd known--
That last was a comforting lie. Stuart would use her if he had to, even if it would put her life at risk.
Kitty had accepted that a long time ago.
"So, what is this case about," Carter asked as they waited for the barista to make their orders. "The details weren't exactly forthcoming."
"It's a cover." Stating the words baldly was probably a no-no in Spy Etiquette 101, but Kitty didn't have time for that bullshit. Not if Scratch had recognized her. "I'm here on behalf of a sub-section of the British Secret Service, looking unofficially into a very delicate matter."
"And you're talking to the NYPD why?" The detective sounded disbelieving and derisive. "If this is just to get points in some leg-pulling contest, Pryde--"
"Neither of us has a dick, and it's complicated." Cutting her off probably wouldn't put her in Carter's good graces, but it didn't matter. Kitty glanced out of the window and froze as she met the glittering black eyes of a nightmare she'd thought long banished. "Crap."
"Agent?"
Kitty already knew there would be an exit out the back of the shop, but she didn't think she could just drag Carter into a chase. "You don't know me, detective. I'll have to contact you later. For now, keep a wary eye out for the man who's about to follow me across the street. He's a killer."
Leaving the detective looking more annoyed than baffled, Kitty grabbed the order that had just come up on the counter, turned and ran.
Scratch wasn't expecting her to exit the shop, and she had time to throw the contents of the cup at him--which he dodged--before she legged it across the traffic-busy street. Horns blared, and people cursed.
And as a dog on a fox, Scratch followed her.
She didn't look back. She'd lose him soon, go to ground. And then she'd have to re-work her strategy to find this super-computer Alistaire was so interested in.
-f-
Fandoms: X-Men (technically, Excalibur), Person of Interest
Characters: Kitty Pryde, Joss Carter
Prompt: dog years (not that I'm sure how it applies to this, but it's what I've got)
Length: 1000+
When Alistaire Stuart called you up and asked for a favor--and you owed him more than a few (and he owed you)--one tended to do as requested. For Kitty Pryde, that meant getting herself added to MI-6's database as an agent, manufacturing orders for herself and landing up in a police station.
Not in handcuffs, of course.
Joss Carter was someone that Alistaire wanted Kitty to check into, as he thought she might have a connection to something he'd heard about on the grapevine. Just what that something was, he'd been deliberately vague about. The sort of vague that had Kitty packing an extra kit, laptop included, and setting up a safehouse before even venturing to her appointment.
Reading her jacket on the way up in the elevator, Kitty discovered she was some sort of financial accounting agent, looking into irregularities in the fine city of New York's murder squads. She squinted at it, wishing that it wasn't obvious Alistaire had farmed out the jacket to sub-standard contractors. Even Torchwood did better work, as far as she'd seen. Her cover would hold, but the description of her job and duties was sorely lacking.
Still, she could roll with it, and stopped in the ladies to get rid of the file in a manner which would only have worked for her. The mice living between the walls would probably appreciate the new nesting materials.
Detective Carter was reading over a similar folder as Kitty approached her desk, and didn't look exactly thrilled about it. She looked even less thrilled when Kitty caught her attention and introduced herself. There hadn't been much on Carter in the notes she'd read, but enough to know that the other woman would resent the interference in an outside agency into whatever they were supposedly investigating.
With the mandate handed to the captain, Kitty could request as much--or as little--of the detective's time as she felt like. She made a note to take only as much as she needed for her true mission. The precinct looked as over-worked as normal, and taking her away from a legitemate case for Alistaire's little shot in the dark wouldn't help matters. Still, discussing it here--the real reason--would be a bad idea, not to mention something she wasn't comfortable with.
"Coffee?" she suggested, and the detective acquiesced with an annoyed sigh.
Kitty made small talk as they walked down the stairs. As they reached the bottom, she found her gaze passing over an older, bald man. Recognition didn't make her stumble until they were out in the open air. For that, she was grateful.
Scratch. What the hell was Scratch doing in Manhattan, in the same police precinct that Alistaire had sent her to?
Chills ran down her spine at the very idea of encountering him again. True, it had been years, but she was still angry over what he'd done to her friends, her lover, her family (no blood relation, but Excalibur had been close then). Rage swept over her, coloring everything red, and she found her hands clenching into fists.
A dog barked, jerking her out of herself, and she tried to plaster a smile on her face as a man jogged past with a german shepherd on a leash. Police dog, probably.
Drawing in a deep breath, Kitty knew it was only a matter of time before her cover was blown. Scratch wouldn't hesitate to try to kill her--suddenly, setting up a safehouse seemed like it had been the best idea she'd had in a long time.
"Agent Pryde?"
Carter jostled her, nodding at the Starbucks, "You gonna go in, or stand out here admiring the Halloween display?"
Releasing her breath, Kitty grabbed the door. "I'm thinking pumpkin latte."
Her voice was even, steady, but her hand on the door handle was shaking if she looked too hard at it. Nerves, she snapped at herself. Get ahold of yourself, it's only nerves. He didn't see you, you're safe. Alistaire wouldn't have sent you here if he'd known--
That last was a comforting lie. Stuart would use her if he had to, even if it would put her life at risk.
Kitty had accepted that a long time ago.
"So, what is this case about," Carter asked as they waited for the barista to make their orders. "The details weren't exactly forthcoming."
"It's a cover." Stating the words baldly was probably a no-no in Spy Etiquette 101, but Kitty didn't have time for that bullshit. Not if Scratch had recognized her. "I'm here on behalf of a sub-section of the British Secret Service, looking unofficially into a very delicate matter."
"And you're talking to the NYPD why?" The detective sounded disbelieving and derisive. "If this is just to get points in some leg-pulling contest, Pryde--"
"Neither of us has a dick, and it's complicated." Cutting her off probably wouldn't put her in Carter's good graces, but it didn't matter. Kitty glanced out of the window and froze as she met the glittering black eyes of a nightmare she'd thought long banished. "Crap."
"Agent?"
Kitty already knew there would be an exit out the back of the shop, but she didn't think she could just drag Carter into a chase. "You don't know me, detective. I'll have to contact you later. For now, keep a wary eye out for the man who's about to follow me across the street. He's a killer."
Leaving the detective looking more annoyed than baffled, Kitty grabbed the order that had just come up on the counter, turned and ran.
Scratch wasn't expecting her to exit the shop, and she had time to throw the contents of the cup at him--which he dodged--before she legged it across the traffic-busy street. Horns blared, and people cursed.
And as a dog on a fox, Scratch followed her.
She didn't look back. She'd lose him soon, go to ground. And then she'd have to re-work her strategy to find this super-computer Alistaire was so interested in.
-f-