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theajaheira · 6 years

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regarding honor and honesty in the workplace (18/?)

read on ao3!

this chapter: we finally find out what exactly went down during the angelus case.

from the personal files of Jenny Calendar:

As this investigation comes together, I find myself feeling more and more discombobulated with regards to Lilah, and it frustrates me that I can��t place why. Our relationship is going perfectly, and Rupert and I have done an excellent job of finding all the people she might need to construct a case against Wolfram and Hart—so why do I still feel like there’s a piece of the puzzle I’m missing?

Maybe it’s just that Lilah hasn’t really discussed the potential case she might build against Wolfram and Hart, or how exactly she’s planning on taking down a powerful law firm with a handful of witnesses who are at best liabilities and at worst minor threats. I’ve seen a lot of cases fall to pieces in the court that were better structured than the one we’re putting together right now, and without a good lawyer, our two to three pieces of vague evidence might not hold up.

I hope my girlfriend’s a good enough lawyer to make this whole thing work.

The Hyperion Hotel was a surprisingly high-end establishment for two people who seemed to be making every effort to go off the grid, and Jenny found herself feeling more than slightly underdressed in her leather jacket and jeans. Even Rupert, who always looked polished and professorial in his suits and vests, seemed a bit dilapidated in comparison to the designer clothing everyone around them seemed to be sporting.

Jenny stepped up to the front desk. “Uh, hey,” she said. “We’re looking for—Scholar and Starlet?”

The concierge gave them both a scrutinizing look, then said, “Who’s asking?”

“Well—”

“Two people who need their help,” said Rupert, “and who are—” here he winced before continuing, “—desperate for the specific expertise that only Scholar can provide.”

Still looking somewhat wary, the concierge picked up a phone and pressed a few buttons. Jenny turned to Rupert, amused. “What was all that about expertise?” she asked.

“Wesley’s a blowhard who responds bloody well to flattery,” said Rupert quietly. “Appealing to his vanity might mean at least a chance at an audience with him.”

From the desk, the concierge cleared his throat. “So hey,” he said, “is this kinda thing a problem no one else can solve? Like, you know, helping the helpless?” He said the last phrase with deliberate significance, as though it should mean something to them both.

“Exactly as such, my good man,” said Rupert without missing a beat. “My colleague and myself need all the help we can get.”

“Weird you came asking for Scholar,” said the concierge with an amused grin. “It’s definitely gonna go to his head. The name’s Charles Gunn.” He stuck out his hand, only narrowly missing the stunned look Jenny and Rupert exchanged before Jenny took it. Shaking her hand, he added, “Room 428. Knock three times and say Caritas.”

“You know Lorne?” said Jenny, startled.

“Who doesn’t in this line of work?” Charles let her hand drop, inclining his head. “I’d recommend you guys get going. Crime doesn’t sleep around here, and the crew’s usually pretty tied up as it is.”

“Gotcha,” said Jenny, grinning. “And, uh—” She hesitated, then said, “This is a long shot, but do you know a Professor Burkle?”

Charles’s face softened and he turned a little pink. “Yeah,” he said. “Fred. She’s a pretty good friend of mine. Why do you ask?”

Jenny felt a small twinge in her chest. This, then, was the Charles Gunn who was still looking for his sister. She knew she shouldn’t have pried, but some slightly masochistic part of her had wanted to put a face to the name, and—it felt worse, somehow, knowing that this kid only a few years older than Buffy and Willow was dealing with stuff not even she would be able to handle.

“My daughter’s one of her students,” said Rupert with careful lightness, who seemed to be getting the reason behind Jenny’s inquiry and was attempting to cover it up. “Professor Burkle mentioned your name in conversation.”

“Anything good?” Charles asked the question casually, but there was a note of shy hope in his eyes.

“Very complimentary,” Rupert reassured him.

Charles’s grin widened. “Well, thanks for passing that along,” he said, and went back to the phones with a much larger smile on his face.

Jenny watched him as they walked towards the elevators. “He seems like a nice guy,” she said a little sadly. “I—honestly can’t imagine how he’s coping, not knowing whether someone he loves is alive or—”

“Alive,” said Rupert, quiet and somewhat shaky. To Jenny’s surprise, he tucked his arm around her waist, tugging her almost protectively closer. “Let’s leave it at that.”

Jenny leaned into his side on the elevator ride up, her thoughts on what they might find upstairs. The way Charles had said helping the helpless seemed unusually purposeful, almost businesslike—as though he’d said that sort of thing before. And the way Lilah had talked about Cordelia and Wesley being the most integral part of any case—was it possible that they might be running some kind of operation of their own?

Rupert let go of her when the elevator bumped to a stop. Jenny felt a strange sense of loss as she watched him walk ahead, and had to take a moment before following him to where he’d stopped in front of room 428. “You should do the honors, Ms. Calendar,” he said, and gave her a small, sideways smile. “This really is your operation, after all.”

“Yeah,” said Jenny, eyes on the door, and knocked three times. “Caritas,” she said.

From inside the hotel room, there was a bit of a laughing scuffle and the sound of cheerful voices. A few seconds passed, and then a slightly disheveled Cordelia Chase opened the door, beaming up at them. “Welcome to Angel Investigations!” she said brightly. “We help the hopeless—oh, shit, it’s helpless, isn’t it.”

“I did tell you, Cordelia, you should have let me handle it,” came an affronted voice with a British accent. “They asked for me down at the desk, didn’t they?”

“Scholar and Starlet both start with an S,” came a very familiar voice. “It’s possible they could have made a mistake.”

“Yeah, Wesley, they made a mistake—” Cordelia, laughing, threw the door open all the way, and her smile faded as she suddenly registered the expressions on the faces of her companions. It was true that Wesley was looking at Rupert with the beginnings of bemused recognition, but that wasn’t what had Jenny and Rupert rattled.

Sitting on the bed, wearing a grey sweater and dark slacks, was a wide-eyed Angel.

THE ANGELUS FILE (stored in a lockbox in Jenny Calendar’s office three years ago; hasn’t been opened since)

About two years ago, a young woman who is as of yet only known to the authorities as Darla set up shop in Los Angeles. She’d been working a pretty efficient smuggling-and-thieving ring in Europe, and a profitable one too—enough to start looking into expanding her operation to the West Coast. Her boyfriend Liam O’Connor came with her, as well as two foster kids they’d picked up for the jobs that needed small hands—William Pratt and Drusilla Keeble, though they went by Spike and Dru on jobs.

Six months after that, Liam began to lose his appetite for the work that they were doing. Apparently, in Europe, he’d been farther away from the process, enjoying the spoils and not having to bother himself with what went into obtaining the money. He saw that they were hurting people and told Darla he was quitting, and she didn’t take it all that well. He described it to us later as her becoming possessive of him—as though he was one of her treasures—but I’m of the mind that she did love him, albeit in a twisted, painful way. Liam doesn’t seem ready to admit to that, though; it’d make him culpable in what happened next.

Liam, using the alias “Angelus” and going by “Angel” for short, took a job as a docent at a local museum, and entered into a relationship with high school junior Buffy Summers, whose adoptive father Rupert Giles happened to be the museum curator. Rupert looked fondly on his colleague, though he was largely unaware of the romance beginning to blossom between Buffy and Angel.

This period of grace lasted for a good four months, during which Buffy and Angel grew closer, Rupert and Angel formed a solid friendship, and Darla continued to search for Liam, putting all other business on hold in an attempt to find him and bring him back to her. Darla discovered Buffy’s relationship with Angel fourteen months ago, when she spotted them kissing outside the museum, and spent the next five months planning an elaborate heist that would not only benefit her financially, but had the potential to ruin Buffy’s life.

I read about the aftermath of the heist in the newspaper a few days later: a number of expensive paintings had been stolen the night a Mr. Rupert Giles was working late, and the security footage in the exhibit had cut out right when he left his office. The police had no tangible proof that he did it, but Los Angeles was in an uproar—every newspaper was reporting on Mr. Giles’s clear guilt and demanding that his adopted daughters be placed with a more capable parent.

That’s where I came in.

Rupert Giles showed up in my office two days later, desperate for any kind of help to clear his name. I was initially a little skeptical, as the evidence was stacked significantly against him, but the way he talked about his adopted daughters (“they lost their mother two years ago, and I’ve been doing my best to give them a stable home—I would never risk their welfare just to steal some bloody paintings”) was fiercely loving and something I completely understood. I told him I’d work the case free of charge, and his response was to offer up his services in assisting me.

That part was a little awkward. It was pretty clear neither of us really knew how to work with someone else—Rupert being an antisocial museum curator and me being, well, a one-person department—but after about two weeks of screaming arguments and baseless accusations (okay, that last part was mostly me), we managed to find an awkward common ground, as well as track down the security tapes that revealed exactly who had stolen those paintings.

Buffy, meanwhile, was devastated. Angel, recognizing that Darla was trying to ruin Buffy’s life in order to get at him, had left Buffy without letting her know what was going on. With her adoptive dad under investigation and her boyfriend pulling a disappearing act, she actually ended up hanging at my apartment a lot—not with me, but with Faith, who had gone through some tough stuff herself and who was pretty good at providing a listening ear. I think those two are going to be friends for a long time after this. Unfortunately, Buffy’s friendship with Faith had unforeseen consequences: while Faith was watching TV, Buffy happened upon my notes for the Angelus case and pieced together what exactly was going on with her boyfriend, as well as why Rupert was under investigation for a crime he definitely didn’t commit.

Buffy, using my notes, went after Darla on her own. Rupert and I were already en route to her last known location, which was incredibly lucky; I’m fairly certain that, if we hadn’t reached the scene in time, Buffy would have been dead. But Rupert knocked the gun out of Darla’s hands, and I called the cops, and Buffy sort of just sat down and started crying until Rupert could come over and hold her. I bought them ice cream and drove them home. Felt like it was the least I could do.

The thing is, though, there was still a permanent black mark on Rupert’s reputation. It was true that he hadn’t stolen any paintings, but it was also true that his adopted daughter had been dating the ex-boyfriend of a high-profile criminal that had caused the museum a world of bad press. Rupert was unceremoniously fired from the job he’d held for nearly ten years.

This is a difficult file for me to write, because Rupert Giles believed in the work he did at a level few people have ever reached. He didn’t work with me solely to clear his name—it’s obvious he’s got a penchant and a passion for putting pieces of a puzzle together, and it’s clear he devotes his time only to things he’s genuinely interested in. This loss hit him painfully hard. I haven’t seen or heard from him in days, and Buffy says he’s just been staying at home.

I don’t know what I can do to make things up to Rupert. What could I possibly offer him that would make any of this even slightly better?

#fic #regarding honor and honesty in the workplace #A SURPRISE EARLYISH UPDATE.#and a mystery solved!

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wolfpawn · 5 years

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I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 42

Chapter Summary - With Tom in Sudan and Danielle in Wales, they are tested for the first time on the ability to be apart from one another for a notable amount of time, can they hack it, and what are they planning for their little reunion?

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @lys-syl @youcantcatchafallingstar

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

“You got it!” Tom was forced to hold the phone away from his ear as Danielle shrieked excitedly down it at him.

“I have not gotten anything yet, technically speaking.” Tom pointed out.

“But you were brilliant, and half of the nominations, I haven’t heard of the shows, much less the actors.”

“Elle, that’s mean.” Tom scolded.

“But I haven’t.”

“Well, you’re not renowned for your love of watching telly.” He pointed out.

“Guilty,” she admitted nonchalantly, causing Tom to chuckle. “Who else has congratulated you?”

“So far, I have had texts from Luke, Ben, the cast, obviously, Kenneth Brannagh, a few of my previous work colleagues, couple of the guys from school and college, cousins, my aunt, Sarah, and of course, mum called, but I only got a message because I was charging my phone, I will ring her back in a while.”

“And Emma?” Danielle asked, noting that he had not mentioned the youngest of the Hiddleston siblings.

“She hasn’t sent anything yet, but mum said that her schedule is hectic at the moment and that Jack was saying she does not get home from the show until three or four most mornings, so I think she is still asleep now, it’s lunch time here, but I think you are still midmorning.”

“Yeah, it is. That’s fair enough.”

Tom had been about to ask Elle something when he noticed the disheartened tone to her voice. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“She’s not talking to me.” Danielle almost sounded like a child, her voice was so small.

“Emma?”

“She’s barely responding to anything I text her, she only responds with one-word answers.”

“She will get over it with time, as you said already; it’s just a little weird for her. Though it’s not fair for her to guilt you like this.”

“It’s also not fair to go after a friend’s brother.” Danielle countered.

“What, are you saying you broke some ‘girl code’?”

“I don’t think there is something officially written out, but yes, I have done something worthy of being told to go fuck myself in many people’s books.”

Tom felt crestfallen. “Do you regret us?”

“I know it sounds bad, but no, I don’t. Emma is one of my closest friends, I have never really been as close with anyone like I have her, I love her, I would do anything, legal or otherwise for her, but I love you, and I like being with you.”

“These are different sorts of love you have for us both, I assume?”

Danielle laughed, “Obviously.”

“It will be resolved soon enough, darling. She cannot stay too mad at people for too long, it is not her way. Do you want me to say something?”

“No, if she needs to be mad for a bit, then let her be, I rather not talk to her until she is ready to. She could say something in anger that could make a big difference to everything and I don’t want to do that.”

“I don’t think I have ever heard of you not confronting something head on before,” Tom noted.

“Because normally, I don’t feel like I could lose my best friend from it.”

“You won’t lose her.” Tom felt hurt on Danielle’s behalf. “She’ll realise soon enough that she’s not actually mad at us and that this isn’t some sort of trashy little fling and that we are happy together, then she will realise you are all the more special.” His smile was blatant through the phone.

“Especially when we decide to…Shit, I am being called back onto set here. Tom, I will talk to you later and I am so happy for you, bye.”

Tom did not even get to say goodbye before Danielle hung up the phone, not that he would have been able to utter the word anyway. He stood, phone still to his ear as he processed what Danielle had been saying before she was called off. She was clearly about to mention something that indicated that she was thinking of something regarding the long-term future for them. His curiosity was piqued at what she could have been about to say. Looking at the screen, he realised he had received several more texts of congratulations, one of which was from Emma.

Emma – Just heard, well done. X

Tom stared at the message before deciding what to text back.

Tom – thanks, sis, sort of shocked, obviously, in an honoured sort of way. By the way, is everything okay? Elle thinks you are angry at her.

Tom looked at the phone for a moment wondering should he have mentioned Elle, before pressing send and turning it off, heading through the departures lounge to start the journey back to London. His trip back to Sudan was over, and in truth, felt worn from it, but, armed with new experiences of the situation there due to his revisiting, he would be able to speak more of it and the terrible situation there, so hr knew it was worth it.

“Hey Irish,” Danielle looked at the sound guy who was standing nearby with a few other behind the scenes set staff. “We’re stuck working this weekend, but off earlyish Saturday and late on Sunday, so we are having an unofficial Christmas Party, you in?”

Danielle had taken out her phone as soon as he had informed her that they were working to tell Tom. “I’m probably not going to be able to.”

“Cancelling plans?” he asked, referring to her phone.

“Himself and I were supposed to be going to friends, so yeah.”

One of the make-up artists looked at her curiously. “You never mentioned a boyfriend.”

Danielle froze for a moment, thinking as fast as she could. “Does anyone around here, if you don’t have a wedding band or a diamond ring, I don’t know anyone’s relationship status.”

“True actually. So what will be your plans now?” The artist conceded.

“I will have to tell him the situation and see what he does about it, he may come here instead now.”

“Surely he can join us all then.”

She looked at the other woman apologetically. “He’ll be just back from a tedious flight, so I will mention it, but I can’t give a definite answer yet.”

“Ooh, he sounds fancy, what does he do?”

“Promotion,” Danielle thought quickly, technically, it was not a lie.

“Meh, scratch that,” The other woman dismissed, “at least in makeup, I get to work up close with celebrities. So Danny has an introvert boyfriend, let me guess, you two sit in, watch Game of Thrones and read most days off.” She smiled playfully.

“Not really a big fan of the show, but yeah, read, relax, walk the dog and going for a run usually.”

“Ooh, a dog and everything, very cosy. I hope we get to meet him.”

Danielle smiled politely, but in her mind, she feared such a thing, not yet mentally ready to declare to the wider world about her celebrity boyfriend. “Maybe if he is feeling up to it, we can join you all.” She commented as she thought of what to say to Tom of what was now her weekend, knowing full well he would plead for her to allow him to join her for it.

“Cool, so Danny is a ‘maybe’, what about you Jack?” the makeup artist decided to focus on who else could be roped into a drinking session.

Danielle just smiled, part of her relieved that she already had set up the excuse for her not being there at the weekend. A piss-up, in the guise of a Christmas party, was the last thing she wanted, especially that she knew Tom would be back. Unlocking her phone, she decided to finish and send the text to Tom.

Danielle – Your coming home has saved me from a weekend of hangovers and regrets. Are you coming Friday or Saturday?

“It hilarious,” Danielle erupted in fresh giggles.

“I respectfully disagree,” Tom grumbled, though he was somewhat surprised by her reaction, relieved that she had not been upset.

“It’s hilarious, trust me.” Danielle reaffirmed, looking at her laptop. “Though what has me concerned is; the artist putting it there because they knew you lived nearby, which is somewhat odd and unsettling, and how did the paparazzi know you would be passing there. Was it all done as a stunt?”

“You think I set this up?” there was both hurt and anger in his voice.

Danielle sighed, she knew he was jetlagged and that he was always somewhat sensitive when people suggested that he was media hungry. “No, I am saying that they would, of course, know you are home, since you were on the TV this morning, talking about your trip, which, by the way, was a very well done piece, but let’s face it, I knew it would be, I think they did the stunt to keep making money off you and her, even if all you were doing was going to Sainsbury’s for some milk.”

“Sorry,” Tom groaned, his tiredness blatant in his voice, “I shouldn’t…”

“Love, you’re exhausted, please, go get some rest.” Danielle encouraged.

“I’m not…”

“Tom, you seem to forget you were on telly this morning, I saw you with my own two eyes, you’re bollixed tired, don’t deny it. Get some rest, after all, you promised to come see me this weekend.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out with the others, I can entertain myself for a couple hours?” Tom asked, turning on the kettle to make a cup of tea while he read over a few things that had accumulated while he was away.

“Well, let us look at everything for a moment, I could go drinking, something you and I both know of my lack of interest in, with a bunch of people I only know three weeks and will only be working with for another two, or I could hide away in a hotel room with my incredibly sexy boyfriend and show him how much I have missed him over the past few weeks, especially when I may have bought something just for the occasion. Such a difficult decision to make.” She feigned a tone of deep thought for a moment before giggling. “I ought to spank that delectable derrière of yours for even suggesting such a thing.”

“I am not going to lie, I am looking forward to seeing…wait, you want to spank me and you bought something, please tell me it’s something I can ogle you in?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” She could not hide the grin on her face or the excitement in her tone.

“Darling, you have no idea how much I want to get in my car and drive there to you, right this instant.” He groaned in frustration.

“Aw, is my poor man frustrated?” she half-joked.

“Well, thanks to your imagery, I am now sporting something that could…”

“Herd cattle?” Danielle laughed, loving how he was getting more and more wound up.

“Country mouse.” Tom grinned, using Danielle’s own analogy of herself.

“City mouse,” she retorted jestfully.

“Darling, I cannot wait to be around you.”

“Are you heading to your mum’s between now and then?”

Tom’s brow furrowed slightly, unsure as to why she was asking about his mother. “I don’t plan to, why?”

“I was just going to ask you to send me a picture of Mac, I miss him.” she stated sadly.

“If I do, I will.” He promised.

“They have a collie dog staying here at the moment that reminds me of him, I think one of his parents was a collie and the other a German Sheppard, it is so like him.”

“They let dogs stay there?”

“Yeah, not everyone wants to put their dogs in kennels when they go away, so they allow them here for another ten pound a night.”

“That’s a great idea.”

“I know, right? So if you see him, tell him I miss him and I will see him soon, and get me a photo.”

“I promise if I see him, I will.” He smiled, loving how much Danielle cared for the scraggy pup he had rang her about one cold morning while he was on set. “I will talk to you soon, and trust me when I say, I cannot wait to join you.”

“Goodbye Tom, I…I love you.” She admitted in a meek voice.

Tom’s eyes widened at her words, she had said them once or twice before, but never over the phone like that. “I love you too, Elle.” He smiled, “Goodbye, darling.” As soon as Danielle hung up, Tom thought to himself for a moment and then grinned slyly, so with a quick Google, he retrieved the number he required and pressed the call button. When a woman answered the phone, he put his most charming voice on. “Hello, I know this is an odd request, but I need to ask a favour and keep something secret for me.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #I Hate You I Love You #chapter 42

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