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dontyoudarejudgemesworld · 4 years

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The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far: Chapter Three

Alright guys, so this takes place after a bit of a time skip. While I know that time skips are like coma theories (as in a sort of cheap way out) this is meant to illustrate the sort of relation ship Bill and her 'uncle' are creating. It's a long one (6,000+ words) but gives some insight to the characters. I know not everyone is a fan of time skips but if I were to go from start to finish for this whole fic it would be longer then the whole Lord of the Rings series so forgive me. The next few chapters will all include some kind of time skip as the focus of them is more to establish and form relationships serving as kind of independent one shots instead of parts of the over arching story-line. I understand that this may be a bit unpopular but considering what's coming it seems the best way to structure it to achieve my end goal with out having it drag on forever. I told you this was going to get weird. Also as an aside, I know there were some grammar and spelling errors in the first two chapters, this is due in part to my normal Beta reader being unavailable (because adulting is time consuming). That being said I had a stand in look this over an took much more time in transcribing it so I hope most of the errors were addressed.

Once again it’s posted here on AO3. And now onward to the insanity.

~*~ One Year Later

Stan sat pantsless in the TV room wondering if this was what contentment felt like. Beside him on the floor sat Billie leaning back against the dinosaur skull staring at the trash TV that played across the screen. Murphy announced ‘you ARE NOT the father’ for the third time in a row and the young woman who sat beside him burst out crying as a man who looked like he should be selling used cars jumped up triumphantly to the jeers of the audience. Beside Stan, his ‘niece’ let out a sharp bark of laughter as she took a sip of her soda. He glanced at her and shook his head; she really was a strange one.

In baggy basketball shorts and a tank top, he could see the mural of tattoos she sported. The sleeve on her right arm was actually a bed of colorful flowers and vines with skulls woven in, macabre but beautiful if he was honest. On her left shoulder was a raven’s head that looked like it was tearing through her flesh that was a little to photo-realistic for his taste. She also had a peacock on her left thigh with a long flowing tail that curved around to end on her knee cap, and a small green dog robot thing from some cartoon or other with the word ‘DOOM!!’ in crude childish letters on her right ankle. Wild black curls spilled over her shoulders in an unkempt mane and dark circles around her eyes told him that she had spent too long at the Skull Fracture last night getting rowdy with the lumberjacks. “Told you, Stan that means you’re picking up the tab at Greasy’s,” she told him cheerfully and he let out an exaggerated groan. He should know by now that betting against her was a fool errand. Over the last year, he’d learned a lot of things about Billie. Like she had no fixed address just various post office boxes, and instead, she lived out of a duffle bag and motel rooms. She worked for herself and seemed to make pretty decent money though he had all but confirmed his suspicion that she toed a very fine line between what was legal and what wasn’t. In truth, she played it pretty close to the vest when it came to discussing her work but she’d let a few things slip and he was willing to bet that she was a bloodhound at least part of the time. Someone that loan sharks and crime lords used to find people that didn't want to be found. A dangerous and ethically ambiguous profession at best. And while he couldn’t help but dislike that idea he couldn’t exactly say too much on the matter, instead of taking some small comfort in the fact that at least she wasn’t a full-fledged criminal like he’d been. Maybe if she had kids one day they’d manage to be upstanding members of society, but something told him she wasn’t the settling down type. Overall throughout seven visits and quite a few calls they had developed a comfortable relationship. After the fourth visit, he’d broken down and invited her to just come to stay at the Shack instead of staying at The Twin Beds. Which he regretted almost instantly; Wendy and Soos had both noticed at once and plied him with questions. Fortunately, Billie seemed to have inherited his Ma’s snake tongue and smoothly lied that she was the daughter of an old acquaintance that he was helping out with a place to stay between jobs without batting an eye. Soos and Wendy had been a bit wary of her at first, but they’d come to warm up to her. She tended to help around the shop and was generally amicable flashing charming smiles and quick wit to win them over. He was fairly certain she’d won over Wendy by covering for her so she could skip out to hang out with her friends a few times but couldn’t prove it. And Soos’s natural good nature had caused him to warm to her quickly, especially when she started helping him come up with and build new attractions for Stan to take credit for. When he wasn’t leading tours and she wasn’t off drinking and brawling with the bikers of the town (a pass time she seemed to enjoy a tad too much in his opinion) the two of them usually spent their time watching trash TV in between runs to Greasy’s diner and the bar. Though after she’d started staying with him he’d discovered that the woman could cook. He’d told her at one point that she didn’t need to but she’d shrugged it off with a smile and that cool laugh of hers saying ‘I spent enough nights hungry and cold that it’s a pleasure to be able to make a decent meal.’ That thought had given him pause to wonder what exactly she’d been through; her mother certainly sounded like a piece of work, but it seemed like so much more. But as much as he wanted to know he didn’t ask. In fact, he hardly asked her anything about her past and she in return didn’t ask about his. Instead, they had found a strange sort of comfort in each other's company. Two broken people who had had hard lives that could spend time around the other without pretending to be anything more than they were. The first few visits they'd both been on their best behavior, Billie had kept her habits of beer and brawling to herself and he had cut back on the cigar and shoplifting. But after an incident involving Billie sucker-punching a guy for asking her if she wanted to come back to his room and put a smile on her pretty face after which Stan had declared it was time to leave snatching the guy's wallet as they fled they had come to a silent agreement that they didn't need to put on 'upstanding citizens' acts anymore. He had thought a few times that he vaguely remembered that this strange feeling of accepting each other for who they were was what family had felt like back when Ford and he had been children, but he couldn’t quite be sure. “Earth to Stan,” Billie’s smooth southern drawl broke through his thoughts pulling him back to find her head cocked staring up at him one brow cocked curiously, “You didn't hear a damned word I said did yuh?” she asked a smirk pulling on her lips. “Naw, I was too busy thinking how sick I’m gonna feel at dinner so I cant go to Greasy’s,” he told her to cover his sappy musing. She rolled her eyes as she shook her head. “The most expensive thing on the menu is 15 dollars. I know you're cheap but…,” she began only to be interrupted as an obnoxious commercial can on the volume raising ten octaves. “Are you completely miserable?” came Bud Gleeful’s voice. “Well I am now,” she growled putting one hand over her ear and glaring at the TV as the commercial played. Watching she cocked an eyebrow as Stan’s picture flashed up to be stamped with ‘FRAUD’, “What bullshrimp is this?” she asked incredulously, “That the chubby car salesman? He’s ten times the liar yuh are, how the hell does he have the gall to call yuh out like that?” “I know, right? At least my customers have some interesting stories to go with the junk I sell them,” he said indignantly, “And what’s worse is it’s working. He’s got his kid pretending to be psychic and the tourists are eating it up. Heck, even the locals are. Putting a real cramp in my wallet. I wish there was something I could do to hit him hard but nothing seems to be working. Even the Squid-abitt isn’t enough,” he railed shaking his head. Beside him, Billie cocked her head one eye squinted in thought as she stared at the TV. “What about someone who can talk ta the dead?” she asked and his head snapped over to her his eyebrows shooting up. “What? Well, yeah that would be a real money maker but who the hell do I know that can do that?” he scoffed as he took a drink of his soda, “Even I can't pull that off.” “I can,” she said matter factly and his face pulled into a look of bored skepticism. “Yeah, and I can teach a pig to fly,” he snorted and she looked up at him that sly smirk of hers slowly crawling over her lips. “Ya wound me, Stanford. I’m from the south where snake oil peddlers are ah’ dime ah’ dozen. Hell Bud’s one that’s why he’s pulling this off so well,” she told him in a slightly condescending tone, “Tell you what I’ll go double or nothing on Greasy’s. If I can give yuh a two-night show that will make more then you do in the same two days. That means two dinners at Greasy’s and braggin’ rights from now until the end of the world,” she challenged and he couldn’t help the lopsided grin that pulled at his lips. “Only if you get it up and running by Saturday,” he added, that would give her the rest of the night and tomorrow to prepare. Not to mention that those were the moneymaker days with tour buses on top of regular foot traffic. A challenge he was sure even she couldn’t pull off but she just grinned and put her hand out. “Prepare ta eat crow, Stanford Pines,” she told him as he grasped her hand causing him to let out a sharp hoarse laugh. “Even you aren’t that good kid,” he sniped unable to help the smug laugh that escaped him at the fire that lit in her eyes at his challenge. “Oh you’re fixin’ ta eat those words old man,” she warned as she hopped to her feet. “Hey what about dinner,” he barked as she turned on her heel to head up to the attic. “Time is money, Stanford. Order Chinese from that there place at the mall, card’s by the phone,” she snapped as she hustled off to get started. Watching her go he couldn’t help but smile. She really was something else, and he’d managed to get dinner without paying for it.

~*~

A day and a half…that was all he’d given her. And now he was thinking that had been too much time. The woman had to be some sort of witch. There was no other explanation as to how literally overnight she’d managed to pull this off. By Friday morning there had been flyers plastered all over town with the simple drawing of a closed eye with the words ‘Esmeralda. Two nights only at the Mystery Shack.’ And apparently, somehow everyone in town had heard the whispers about a real live gypsy that could talk to the dead by noon (he had a theory that Billie had somehow gotten Wendy to help her spread the word but once again couldn’t prove it). By Friday night there was a deceptively large tent set up around the totem pole that looked like it had come out of some storybook. It would have been impressive if he didn’t feel the impending loss breathing down his neck. His one hope was that she wouldn't be able to pull off the act; after all, she had become someone the locals recognized by now so they surely wouldn't buy it when they saw her. That was until he’d come downstairs Saturday morning to find a gypsy woman sitting at the table nursing a cup of coffee. Her skin held an olive tint, her eyes a rich deep brown, and her curly black mane was held away from her face by a scarf. She wore a frilled white shirt that hung off one shoulder and a skirt made up of layers of gauzy material in a rainbow of colors with a coin skirt hung low on her hips. Bangles crowded her wrists and a few on her ankle making her every movement musical. Staring at her she flashed him a bright grin. “Good morning Mr. Mystery I’m Esmeralda and I speak to the other side,” she greeted him in an accent that was European but not too strong. Staring at her it took him a minute to realize that she was his daughter. What gave it away was the bandage on her left hand, it was neatly wrapped and wouldn't be worth much note if he didn’t see the slight bump where her extra finger was folded across her palm to hide it. Shaking his head he stared open mouth at her, she looked like a cliche and it was brilliant. The tourist would eat it up. “How?” he demanded his voice cracking in indignant awe causing her to chuckle. “Lots of foundation, contacts, and years of practicing a dozen accents,” she told him smugly in that outrageous but somehow totally believable accent, “You can always admit defeat now Stan and I will only demand one of my dinners,” she offered. “No way toots. You never call a fight early,” he replied and she shrugged as she took another sip of her coffee. Arrogance rolled off her and he let out a low grumble, while he could appreciate her confidence speaking to the dead was a tall order. He opened his mouth to say something to her when Wendy's voice came from the gift shop. "Stan a tour bus just pulled up!" Glancing at 'Esmeralda' she flashed a wicked smile as she stood in a rattle of bangles and rolled her shoulders. Looking him up and down she couldn't help the smirk that pulled at her lips. "May the best con win, " she laughed resting all her weight in on hip as she stretched. Stan couldn't help but let out a bark of laughter that rose in him as a competitive fire lit in him. "Age and treachery with overcome youth and exuberance every time, " he reminded her and she shrugged as she moved to slip out the back door. Watching her go he shook his head getting his cane and flipping his eye patch down, he had to admit having some competition was making the day a bit more exciting. The next 10 hours were a whirlwind of activity as a flood of tourists poured through. He spun his stories with a flare he hadn't felt in years as Esmeralda flittered about. He had to admit that she was good; adding some rustic flare to his stories telling of sighting of the Cat-a-peid in the 'old country' and backing up the claim that the magic crystal they sold were steeped in the mystical energy of the forest. Between the two of them, they managed to create a fevered excitement in the visitors who all but threw their money at Wendy. But even as he reveled in what were surely record profits he couldn't help but notice that all of Billie's help was a double-edged sword. Even as she hyped his attractions she filtered about reading palms and offering charms that she made appear from her skirt. Shiny rocks and crudely carved figures on a bit of string, things he recognized from the bulk supply warehouse he bought his own junk from. A ten here and a twenty there that she slipped away with a smile and an offer to come see her tonight as the spirts had many messages and perhaps one was for them. And he finally got to see her speak to the dead, at least that was what it looked like. Gravitating to a cluster of tourists she placed a hand on her temple as she closed her eyes. Letting out a humming sound she peered up at the curious group. "There is a woman. Older, matronly who wishes to speak to one of you. Some connection with the letter T, " she said softly as she hummed again pausing for dramatic effect, "A name or hobbies maybe. Teresa. Or Teapots. Or Tammy. Or trains...tarting. Tabatha, maybe. I'm sorry it's hard to hear her. Her voice is a soft one but warm like..., " he began only to have one if the men, a middle-aged guy speak up suddenly. "Thelma?" he asked suddenly, "My Mema was named Thelma, " he said excitedly and a murmur went through the crowd. Billie smiled softly as though listening to someone speak before nodding. "Yes, Thelma. She passed suddenly, but not unexpectedly right, " she told him and he nodded his face pinching ever so slightly with emotion. "In her sleep, but she was 98," he supplied and Billie smiled gently as she nodded. "She wants you to know that it was painless and she is at peace, " she told him kindly as she shifted as though leaning closer to someone to hear, "She says that you're worrying over something financial. A promotion or payment of some sort. You are concerned that it won't happen, that it keeps you up at night. You are sleeping and it worries her. Do you know what she's talking about?" she asked and he nodded silently the crowd around him starting in wonder. "Ye...yea. I know what she's talking about, " he choked and Billie nodded sympathetically, "She says that you don't need to worry. That it will all work itself out. She says to tell you to have faith, that God wouldn't have you face a trial you could not handle, " she said her eyes flattering closed once more, "She says she loves you and that you need to read for your own health." For a moment silence hung in the air before the man moved forward and threw his arms around Billie thanking her. Around them, the crowd had tripled in size and an excited clamor rose from them all talking at once. It was amazing and a total sham. He'd seen this sort of psychic before, they were all over daytime TV. And while he had no idea how they did it he knew in his bones they were fakes. But even so, the audiences ate it up including the one now swarming around Billie. "Oh she's good, " he growled as he stood watching her work the crowd telling them that she would speak to the spirits tonight and they were welcome to come, no latter than 7 and cash only for her small admission fee. She only asked 20 dollars so she could continue her travels. And every single one ate it up like starving men. She smiled at just the right moments and spoke just the right word. And that when it hit him. This wasn't her first time pulling this con. She was poised and practiced like she did this every day. This was an old hand to her, a well-practiced grift not some idea she"d randomly thrown out. He'd assumed she was just winging it, she was a PI not a psychic. At least she was now. Just like he was Mr. Mystery now. But before that, he'd been a lot of other things. And it appeared before being a PI Bill had been other things as well. In that moment he realized that he'd been played, that he'd assumed she'd been bluffing without knowing her tells. She was a con artist just like him, and he should have known. Betting against her was a fools errand, and not just when it came to daytime talk shows. She was his daughter after all, and it seemed some of his talents had passed on.

~*~

Billie sighed as she she leaned against the support of the porch, a cigarette in one hand and a can of Pitt cola in the other. She felt like a whole new person after a hot shower to wash off the ton of bronzer and foundation she’d used to make her pale skin darker. It was nice to be out of that stupid heavy skirt and back in sweats and a t-shirt. Pre-dawn just started to brush the sky above the trees with thin lines of pinks and oranges the trees shadows stretched out like fingers of darkness trying to resist the coming day. It got light so early up here it made her feel like it was later (or earlier) then 3:30 in the morning. It really was beautiful though, like a Rob Boss painting. She had to admit when she’d first rolled into the little Organ town the year before she had found the picture perfect place a bit unsettling. It had been the plan to show up meet Stan and never look back, after all she’d never thought he would want anything to do with his brother��s vagabond daughter. Guess that’s what she got for thinking. It turned out her uncle seemed to want something to do with her after all, and surprisingly she wanted something to do with him.

After her research she had expected to find a cold logical man who had no room for sentimentality. While she knew scientific papers were written specifically lacking any emotion his had seemed extra sterile. Even the forwards to the where normally the researcher had some kind of tone had been devoid of anything to give her a glimpse of personality. But instead she had found a man who was the furthest thing from a cold clinical researcher. He was warm in a gruff kind of way and she liked it. It occurred to her that the time line of his published works ending and the Murder Shack coming into being seemed to overlap with Stanley’s death. Perhaps, the sudden change in profession had also been a sudden change in personality, grief was a powerful thing after all.

Or perhaps he’d simply decided that this strange little corner of the world was too wonderful to waste with his head buried in in books. And it was wonderful. And weird. Over her first few visits she’d began noticing strange shadows and odd movement in the trees. And while she’d written off the little men she’d seen rummaging in the diner’s dumpster and the Moth Man she’d seen batting at a street light outside the hotel one night to tricks of the mind and the local legends getting to her, she’d quickly realized there was something inherently odd to the place. Not bad just odd. But once she’d come down one morning to find Stan luring a walking camp fire out from under the porch with marshmallows she’d realized it wasn’t in her head. Instead she had decided that she rather liked this place, after all she was an odd person so she didn’t feel so out of place. It was like she could breath freely in this strange little town with her eccentric uncle.

Her uncle, that was still a strange thought. Billie had never really had a family, her mother had always been too busy being a drunken whore druggie to be anything else. And while she technically had four older siblings they’d all been to busy finding their own way to survive to bother with anything as trivial as bonding. Hell, after she’d been taken into state custody she hadn’t seen any of them for years, a few she still hadn’t seen even after all these years. It had always been her, she’d learned early to never depend on anyone else. Survival was the end game and others had always been passing acquaintances to her. But for some reason she kept coming back here, kept calling to check in on Stan. Perhaps, it was that he never asked any questions or judged her for smoking and drinking. Or maybe it was that she knew that the tired eyes and world weary voice she had was a mirror of his. Not that it mattered, she had come to really appreciate the time she spent with the old con.

It was a nice change of pace. Most people seemed to think that being a PI was like the movies; chasing down leads, sneaking around to get photos, and all that, but it wasn’t. While sure it had its exciting moments (especially when it came to some of her less than reputable clients) it was a lot of time sitting around and waiting for someone to show up. It was digging through mountains of trash and public records to find a lead. It was asking a lot of questions that never got answered to people who didn’t want to talk to you. Over all it was exhausting in more ways then one. She’d always spent her time between jobs partying or holed up in a hotel room getting stoned and sleeping, but now she found coming here to be a much better past time.

There was always some new creation Stan was working on or some project to help Soos with. She had found walks in the woods were eventful as she seemed to run across odd little creatures and weird rocks no matter what direction she went. Even when it was boring around the Shack she at least had company. And Stan sure made for interesting company. He was always ready to snipe at each other or make stupid bets over anything. Heck, the last two days had been the most fun she’d had in years. She had enjoyed watching the old con slowly realized that this wasn’t her first rodeo, though, she knew she had shown her hand and he wouldn’t fall for it again.

Then again even she was surprised she’d pulled it off. While the gypsy shtick had been something she’d acquired as a teenager the rest had been dumb luck. She was constantly surprised that for such a nowhere town Gravity Falls seemed to have everything. 24 hour copy shop to make the flyer? Yup, Shenkos beside the mall. Party rental shop with a thematically appropriate tent? You bet. Costume shop? Yup. Local teenagers willing to spread rumors and wield social media like a finely honed weapon for $20 bucks? Well, everywhere had those but Wendy was a sweet kid who seemed more then willing to recruit help. It just went to show that helping the kid ditch work a few times had been a good idea. Still, some how it had all come together and she’d been able to back up her cocky words. Even with the expenses she’d pull in over a grand in a weekend beating Stan by a hundred buck and some change.

So she’d won, though, since she had told Stan to keep it since it was his customers to begin with she had basically bought herself two dinners and some expenses but useless bragging rights. In truth, she didn’t need the money, she got paid well for her work and had nothing to spend it one. She didn’t pay rent since she refused to settle, and aside from weekly hotels, food, and smokes she didn’t buy anything really. So she had a huge bank account that she just let sit for when she decided to retire. Plus, she’d liked the idea of helping Stan out, if in no other way then sticking it in Bud’s face. How dare he call Stan a fraud when he sold junk cars at astronomical prices? A small self aware part of her knew that she had done it because she cared about the old man, but she just ignored it.

Shaking her head she snorted, she had to be tired to be getting all introspective and squishy. Feelings weren’t her bag, she’d just done it for fun. At least that was what she told herself. Shifting slightly she groaned, her body felt heavy and her eyes kept trying to close. She was exhausted two days and nights of putting on a show took a lot out of a woman. Not to mention, she’d had to strike the tent after last night’s performance so the rental company could pick it up first thing, and of course she and Stan had sat up counting out their respective earnings. Stad had recounted hers twice growling she’d padded them, before finally admitting defeat. The look on his face had been worth it.

“Alright kid, how’d you do it?” came a gruff voice and the smell of cigar smoke pulling her eyes from the trees. Looking over at him she flashed a smile earning a half hearted scowl in response and a dismissive grunt, “Come on out with it. It’s only fair I know how I got beat.” Smirking she let out a sharp bark of laughter.

“It’s called cold reading,” she told him causing one of his eyebrows to shoot up in question, “You size up a crowd; age, clothes, general stuff you know. Then you throw out a line; something vague enough to not be a definitive statement but specific enough to be convincing. One you get a bite you reel them in, double talk so they tell you everything but it seems like you told it to them and bam you talked to their dead aunt,” she explained as she took a drink.

“Sounds like it would be easier to actually talk to the dead,” he grumbled, “Yur Grandmother would be proud. So where on earth did you learn to pull that off? It doesn’t seem like somethin’ you’d learn for a party trick,” he observed as he took a long puff off his cigar groaning as he settled back on the couch. Shrugging she sighed as she moved over to sit next to him staring out at the dark woods tucking one leg under her.

“When I was round about 16 I ran off from the group home. I was tired of being passed around homes like a fruit cake at Christmas yuh know. So I landed at a traveling fair after a while and met the Amazin’ Jezabel. She pulled the same gimmick and taught me how since my weird hand gav’ ah bit of a witchy vibe. I traveled with them for a year or two, ‘fore getting sick of making her a ton of money and gettin’ hog spit in return. I went out on my own and was good at it,” she told him cracking her neck a touch of melancholy settling over her as she recalled the days she spent running the con at fairs all over the south, “I probably could have gone on with it, got one of those shows on TV, but after a while people started coming to me looking for real answers. Sure, stuff like this weekend is fine. Tellin’ people that their grandma loves them or their dog is always hangin’ around them don’t hurt nothin’ It makes them happy, but when you have people comin’ to yuh lookin’ for their missing kid offering their life’s savin’s for answers it changes the game. I couldn’t bring mah’self ta lie to them. I didn’t want to give ‘em false hope so I quit. I was tryin’ to feed myself not cheat desperate people, yuh know?” she finished before calming up. She hadn’t needed to say all that, and it kinda broke the unspoken agreement they had to avoid anything too honest about themselves.

Glancing over she expected to find him either half listening to her ramble on or looking at her with the inscrutable look of mild disappointment he got when she came in half cocked with a split lip from brawling with the guys at the Skull Fracture. Instead his brows were furrowed and the corner of his lips pulled down in a half frown. It wasn’t that he looked disgusted at her words more…saddened by them. For a long moment they just stared at each other before he looked away taking a drink of his own soda.

“What?” she asked finally ignoring the slight feeling of insecurity that his silence had brought on.

“Nothin’. I was just thinking about your Dad,” he said his voice slightly rougher then normal, “That’s impressive though. You got any other tricks up your sleeve?”

“Naw, nothing worth noting,” she said as she looked away from him resting her elbow on the arm of the couch and leaning her head on it. For a moment they were silent, sitting there smoking before her eyes slid over to him again.

“What about him?” she asked unable to stop herself. While she excepted that Stanley was gone, and he seemed to be a subject Stanford didn’t seem keen on she couldn’t help but wonder about Stanley. He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes knowing what she was asking at once. For a second she thought he wasn’t going to answer before he shrugged.

“Nothin’ really. Just that you’re a lot like him. He may have been a cheat and a liar but he never preyed on desperate people. He’d probably be proud of you for that,” he said as Billie barely suppressed the pleased smile that threatened to surface at his words, “Though if he’d have known about you’d you could bet you wouldn’t have even been in a position to have to decided who were acceptable marks,” he added under his breath like he was speaking to himself not her. Smiling she looked back out at the trees.

“Yeah well if that were the case I wouldn’t have been able to get some free meals and braggin’ right now would I?” she chuckled to break the heavy silence that had settled on them and she saw his lips twitch from the corner of her eye.

“Yeah, yeah live it up kid. You cheated and you know it. That was dirty trick, I wouldn’t have made that bet if I’d have know you were a professional psychic,” he grumbled and she chuckled as she finished her drink and stood stretching.

“I’m goin’ ta bed. I’m beat,” she announced with a small yawn, “You should get some sleep too, Stan yuh look like hell,” she added glancing down at him causing him to chuckle.

“You ain’t the boss ah me kid,” he grumbled as she couldn’t help the stern look that crossed her face causing him to laugh, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll finish then and head to bed,” he assured her waving his hand at her. Smiling she yawned again as she headed in.

“Night Stanford.”

“Night Billie.”

#gravity falls #stan pines #Stanley Pines #billie pines #lost pines daughter #gf #au gravity falls #the apple doesnt fall far #AO3 #gravity falls fanfiction #screaming pointlessly into the void #Mystery Shack #tent of telepahy #pines family #pines family bonding #ugh I suck at hashtags

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faveficarchive · 5 years

Text

Together

By Blue Dragon

Pairing: Mel/Janice

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: Mel and Janice are on another dig with friends, and come to terms with the shifting nature of their relationship.

Staring out at the sun setting low on the desert horizon, Doctor Janice Covington pulled a cigar from the inside pocket of her jacket. This was her favorite time of day. The locals hired on to be diggers had all gone home, except for those few trustworthy enough for sentry duty, that is. The rest of the staff was either taking a breather before dinner or preparing for tomorrow's labors.

Hopefully, they'll get better, Janice thought as she lit her cigar. The day's labors were nothing to write home about.

It was the time of day where Janice was free to stand outside her tent in the meager shade, relax with a cigar and survey her kingdom.

Not that its much of a kingdom, she told herself, letting the thick smoke play in the air as she exhaled. But it will suffice. At least for now. She thought about that for a moment or two. "No, this is all I want. All I can handle." She muttered aloud. Looking around to see if anyone was in hearing distance, Janice chuckled. "Wonder if Gabrielle talked to herself. Guess I'll never know."

Janice relaxed after ascertaining that no one would be privy to this little habit she shared with both her father and mother. Thinking aloud was apparently a genetic trait. At least in her family. At least that was what her father told her. How could she know?

Shaking her head to free her mind of what ifs surrounding her family, she settled on contemplating the more recent past. Three months recent in fact. She grimaced at the memory of Ares and his "cursed" tomb. It had taken this long for the team to regroup, move the dig about two miles to the south, and get settled in. Surprisingly, the cover story they devised had worked and the crew was able to continue with their work unsupervised for at least the last month. The first two months had the Greek officials out to the sites every other day to make sure no more accidents occurred.

The cover story was that Smythe had held Janice, Melinda and Jack hostage in the tomb while his bullies searched it. Unfortunately, they didn't find anything. Also unfortunately, when one of the thugs opened a previously sealed door to another cavern, Smythe himself went to investigate. Too bad that the cavern was filled with natural gas and Smythe was a smoker. Apparently his cigarette caused a massive explosion. Janice, Mel, and Jack were barely able to escape with their lives. It was only fair, they were in a different part of the tomb after all and couldn't see what was going on.

The Greek officials said nothing condemning towards them. It wasn't their fault. These things happen. It was a risk in Archeology. Everyone knew that. They did warn Janice to be more careful about trusting certain people and to make sure that the caverns were aired out properly in the future. She agreed with appropriate humility, and all was well. The head of Greece's Department of Archeology didn't like Smythe anyway. He was happy it was "all above board" as he called it.

Getting Jack to agree hurt. A lot. She ended up bribing him with two of the Joxer Scrolls as he called them. She wasn't too much worried. Knowing Jack, he'd have them translated, put in a box and they'd be the archeological find of the next century when his great grand kids finally clean out his attic. With her luck, they end up being the basis for a cheap movie or radio program. What was it Ares had said? Idiocy was a family trait? Nope, She thought, nothing to worry about there.

The locals that had helped set everything up for the explosion eagerly went along with the idea. In exchange for an extra two days off, one with pay, of course. Most of them were just happy to be rid of the curse that had haunted the dig site. None of them realized that Smythe was cause of the curse. Then again, they really didn't care.

Convincing the rest of the staff and the students working the dig was also not a problem. She simply told them what she told the Greek officials. The senior staff members were all on a holiday anyway, playing around in one of the nearby villages buying supplies, getting laid, relaxing, whatever. Janice really didn't care what they were doing at that time, just that they believed her story. They did. After all, being able to talk her way out of anything also ran in the family. She did, however, tell two of her most trusted friends on the staff, Julie Waitreford and Roger Grant, the truth. They didn't believe her. She hadn't expected them to really.

Melinda, on the other hand, had posed a problem until Janice had her recite the story aloud. Janice had laughed hearing Mel's version of events. She could still hear the Southerner's voice in her head:

"Well, Smythe and his bunch of bullies accosted us and dragged us into the tomb. We found the Scrolls after Smythe had disappeared, and then found half of this round killin' thing that had belonged to Xena. Smythe showed up with the other half and tried to kill me. Dr. Covington saved me and we went into this other part of the tomb where all the torches lit by themselves. Then I was possessed by Xena so she could fight Ares, the God of War. The next thing I know was Dr. Covington helpin' me to my feet and then blowin' up the tomb to keep Ares from escapin'."

It still made Janice smile. After hearing for herself just how incredible the story sounded, Melinda agreed that the lie was better. Although she still didn't agree with the concept of falsehoods.

The dinner bell rang at that moment, tearing Janice away from thoughts of the tall, dark and enigmatic Southerner. She took one last look at her little kingdom, extinguished her cigar, put it away to keep it safe for later and went to wash up for dinner.

***

Dinner in the common mess type tent was a self serve affair. It was set up in a buffet style line and the staff, whatever field workers stayed at the camp, and their families could help themselves to whatever the cooks had decided to make that day. The kitchen was only open for three meals, and only for an hour and a half for each meal. It was a strict policy that if you missed out, you were on your own. Long ago, on one of her father's digs, Janice had learned never to wait and try her luck. She didn't appreciate missing a meal.

Janice grabbed a tray and walked through the line mindlessly gathering food onto her plate. She, like certain ancestors before her, didn't care what it was, as long as it was edible. She had that one, of several, advantage over most of her colleagues. She had found very few types of food that disgusted her in her travels. Most of the time she barely even noticed what she was eating unless it was either very good, very bad, or squid. Squid and sushi fell into the very bad, do not touch, I-can't-believe-you- want-me-to-eat-that category. She made it a point to interview the cooks closely to ascertain their feelings of seafood. If they believed fish should be cooked and squid should be used only for bait, they were hired.

Dr. Paul Stafford, Julie, Melinda, and Roger were already sitting at the "Round Table" when she finished gathering enough food to satisfy her appetite. She walked over and sat her tray down as Melinda was engaging Stafford in a conversation on Southern cooking.

"Really, Dr. Stafford, you must try some of our cuisine. Why I'd give almost anything to taste some of old Melba's hush puppies, turnip greens, creamed corn, fried chicken, catfish, black eyed peas, corn bread and white gravy. You just haven't lived until you've had a plate full of good ole home cookin' Southern style." Melinda finished by looking at her plate as if by sheer will it would transform into the food she was just describing. The rest of the party seemed satisfied by the food in front of them, and showed no interest in turnip greens. Janice was actually wondering what on earth they could be.

"My dear Ms. Pappas, I've actually been to the South. Mississippi in fact. I had to go and stay in this town, they called it a city, but still...Biloxi, I believe. They wanted to find the original site of the founder's landing. I was only there for two days before going to New Orleans, but they had the best shrimp. Its right on the Gulf of Mexico, and some of the restaurants catch their seafood fresh daily before dinner. It was marvelous. I could live without the hush puppies, but everything else was great. Especially in New Orleans. Now, that's a town that knows cuisine." Paul smiled kindly in Melinda's direction before returning his attention to his tray.

As Julie began her dissertation on her favorite meal, Janice studied her companions as she ate. The five of them were the top rungs of the dig's hierarchy, and commanded a table the undergrads and grad students working the dig had nicknamed the "Round Table" in reference to the sharing that went on there. Janice was not a control freak. She asked questions of her teammates and expected questions to be asked of her. In her mind, it was a group effort. Her tiff with Melinda over the discovery of the Scrolls was due to her distrust of the Southerner, and her disgust with what she thought was a spoiled, rich, naive woman-child trying to live off of her father's accomplishments. Xena's appearance straightened that out, but Janice still was not comfortable around Mel, and had only talked with her when necessary. She had only recently begun to warm up to the Southerner. More than warm up to her, if she would admit that to herself, which she wouldn't.

Straight across from Janice sat Paul. Dr. Paul Stafford was with the university funding the dig. He had actually arrived the day after Melinda. His mission, which he had chosen to ignore, was to spy on Janice. He chose to ignore it for two reasons. They were old friends from their days as undergrads and he had kept in touch with her enough after school to know that she did not share her father's moral views on the value of antiquities. He was a nice enough guy, intelligent, funny, compactly built with blond hair and blue eyes that twinkled with mischief. Paul and Janice had gotten into a lot of trouble with pranks their senior year when the dreaded senioritis hit them both with a vengeance.

To her left sat Julie "Curly" Waitreford. She was nicknamed Curly in adolescence because of the unruly blonde curls that she insisted on wearing long. Julie was the camp's secretary and generally Janice's right hand. Her father had been one of Harry Covington's most trusted staffers, and her mother was the camp nurse. After Janice's own mother deserted them, Mama Waitreford took charge of a young Janice and her baby sister Amanda. Add to the mix of Julie, Janice and Amanda, Julie's younger brother Robert, who was the same age as Janice, the four of them raised hell on the digs. It was kind of fitting that the four paired off. Janice and Julie still worked together continuing their parents' work and Amanda and Robert were married just before Harry was killed in a cave-in.

"So Janice, what do you think?" Roger asked interrupting her train of thought. Roger had also been one of her father's closest friends and staffers. Both Roger and Niles Waitreford were the only ones who stayed with him until the end.

"I'm sorry Roger, I was thinking about something else. What do you want me to agree to?" Janice asked turning to face him.

"Poker. Just poker. It must have been some heavy thinking if you didn't hear the plans for your favorite weekend activity." He teased.

"Well, I'd have to say that poker isn't my favorite weekend activity," The group chuckled at Janice's innuendo, all except for Melinda who blushed faintly as was befitting a proper Southern woman. Janice cleared her throat after seeing that. "Yeah, sure, I'll play. Same as always? Here about 8 o'clock?"

The rest of the group nodded. Julie excused herself after making a comment about pretending to take a bath in her tent. Paul left a moment or two later heading in the same direction Janice noted. Roger got up to refill his coffee mug, leaving Janice where she didn't want to be. Alone with Melinda Pappas.

"So, Dr. Covington, have y’all ever been to the South?" Melinda asked, obviously trying to make conversation.

"Yeah. I flew through Dallas on my way to Mexico once or twice. Does that count?"

"My dear Doctor," Mel laughed. "We in the deep South don't consider Texas as being all that Southern. Its more Western with the Mexican influence and all." She stated gently.

"Sorry, I guess my US geography isn't what it should be." Janice looked down at her cup and silently begged Roger to hurry back. She wasn't good at small talk, and the beautiful Southerner made her nervous in a way no one else ever had.

"That's ok. I'll forgive ya for it. Its really an easy mistake to make because only Southerners bisect themselves further than the rest of the county." Melinda on the other hand was a master at small talk. It was a Southern art form that had prompted Mark Twain to scorn their favorite topic, the weather, by saying something like "everyone complains about it but no one does anything about it." Melinda never could remember the exact quote, but it was a favorite one of her daddy's.

"So what are you two ladies discussing?" Roger asked as he sat down. Janice hid a sigh of relief and was about to excuse herself for more coffee when Roger placed the pot on the table. He filled Janice's glass and reached over to refill Mel's but the Southerner just shook her head, declining his offer.

"Geography." Janice replied to his question as she reached for the sugar and proceeded to empty at least three tea spoons of the white powder into her coffee.

Roger looked to Melinda for an explanation, but the tall Southern belle just shrugged.

"Well, if ya'll will excuse me, I think I'm gonna go back to my tent and rest awhile. Evenin' Dr. Grant. Dr. Covington." Melinda rose, gathered up her personal belongings, and exited to her left.

Roger watched her leave and then contemplated his companion in silence. Janice just drank her coffee. Finally the silence became unbearable for the older man.

"Janice, honey, why do you avoid Melinda?" He asked as he turned his chair to face hers.

"I don't avoid her Uncle Roger. I just don't know how to talk to her outside of the Scrolls." Roger smiled at the term of endearment. He had adopted Janice as soon as he hired on with her father a little less than twenty years ago. Janice was only five at the time. It had amused her father and scandalized her mother. They did make an interesting sight, a little strawberry blonde imp with a nice base tan as was only befitting the child of an archeologist, and a six foot five black man chasing one another through the camp. For awhile, Roger would have sworn that he was only hired as a babysitter. He didn't mind, and he taught Janice a lot about life. After Ms. Covington disappeared a year later, the confirmed bachelor took it upon himself to assist Harry and the Waitrefords with the two kids she left behind. He made his vow to continue looking after his stubborn adopted niece at Harry's grave side.

"Just talk. She won't bite you."

"I know, but I'm not good at making small talk, and...well...I don't know." Janice continued to stare into her mug as if it held the answers she was looking for. She refused to admit her fear of falling for her.

"Little one," Janice smiled at the endearment and lifted her eyes to meet his. "You know we raised you best as we could..." He started unsure of how to continue. Janice saved him the trouble by interrupting him.

"I have never once, and I mean NEVER, regretted the way I was raised or by whom." Janice made sure to keep eye contact with her uncle. "You helped raise Amanda too, and she turned out fine. Even if she did marry Robert."

"Now Janice..."

"I'm just kidding. Robert's a nice guy and will keep her happy and safe. I'm just glad its her and not me he wanted. I can't see myself doing the whole marriage with children thing." Janice chuckled at the image. So did Roger.

"No, although I can see you happy with someone, but you'll never know if you don't open up to others." Roger dropped his eyes to his cup. "I will tell you that if I was younger, I'd spend a lot more time with Ms. Pappas. She's quite smart and very lovely" Janice almost inhaled her coffee.

"What, I mean..." She sputtered frantically looking for a way to turn this away from where she thought it might be leading. "Are you trying to tell me that you have the hots for our translator?"

"I didn't say that. And no, I don't. I just thought that maybe she'd make a good friend. That was all I meant." He covered a grin by refilling his coffee mug. "Why? Did you think I meant something different?" He asked innocently. She had never told her father about her preference for women. He had never asked, and as far as she knew neither her father nor any of his contemporaries knew. She was wrong. Harry Covington had never asked because he hadn't had to, neither did Roger. They knew it, accepted it, and got over it. It was just one more thing that ran in the family. "She'd make a great partner."

"How did you know?" Janice asked looking at him with a mixture of confusion and fear. "I mean other than the clothes, which is mostly because of the heat and for comfort and stuff like local customs..." Janice realized she was babbling. A nervous habit that also ran in her family. "Did Dad know?"

"Yes your father knew. No, it did not disappoint him. No I do not think less of you." He answered the questions her eyes asked. "Little one, as for how we knew, we raised you. We just knew." He answered vaguely. Roger Grant was not a coward by any means, but he felt this conversation would be more appropriate at a later date. Janice seemed to agree and let the matter drop.

"I, ah, I think I'm going back to my tent and get ready for the poker game," She said standing up and pushing her chair back underneath the table. "Be ready to lose a lot tonight, old man. I feel a winning streak coming on." Janice grinned and left him alone at the table.

Roger sighed and finished off his coffee before he too left the table and headed back to his tent.

***

Melinda Pappas sat on the bed in her tent contemplating the changes her life had gone through in a year. God, has it only been a year? She asked herself, taking a sheet of paper and using it for a fan. I really need to start dressing in something more appropriate for the climate. Mother would never make it here. No wonder Daddy never took her along. The paper fan helped a little, but not much. Mel let her thoughts return to her recent past.

Not long after her daddy died the year before, a week and a half after the funeral as a matter of fact, her mother and grandmother began planning her wedding. It didn't matter to them that Jason was stationed on a ship somewhere in the south seas, as soon as he got leave to come home, they wanted to have the wedding. They also disregarded the fact that Melinda didn't want to get married to Jason. Matter of fact, she didn't want a husband at all. When she first told her mother and grandmother that, they chalked it up to nervousness. She was only 18 at the time, so they decided to wait. She quit dating and began studying whatever her father would let her. That was how she learned ancient Greek.

A year ago she turned twenty-seven, and they wouldn't take no for an answer. She had been "dating" Jason for four years and her mother and grandmother felt it time to take the relationship down the aisle. Her father had gone to bat for her every time the subject came up, so had her older brother who was already married with children of his own. After Mel Pappas died, his daughter lost her edge. The matrons ignored Thomas, and to a certain extent Melinda, and set about making plans for the wedding. A week before Mel had hopped a flight to Greece, Jason's ship was sunk off the coast of an undisclosed island. There had been no survivors. The telegram had come four days after the event. Mel had allowed herself two days of mourning for an old friend, then packed and headed out.

She had actually found the telegram Janice had sent asking for Melvin Pappas's assistance shortly after her father died. He had left all of his books and papers to her instead of her mother. Upon reading the telegram and the note he had left with it, she understood why. It wasn't until Jason's death that she was able to find the strength to defy her mother and grandmother by taking her father's advice to flee the household.

What was it the letter said? Mel asked herself. She had it with her, but didn't feel like looking for it at the moment. She knew it by heart and could hear her father's voice so clearly it was as if he were reading it to her. The only way, you'll ever really be happy, my dear child, is to get out of this house as soon as you can. Greece is a good place as any to start. I know the young lady - Mel smiled at that. Janice couldn't really be called a lady, but her daddy always tried to see the best in others - who is running the dig. I dare say the two of you will get along admirably. She will at least help you to answer some of the internal questions you have about yourself and about life.

Now, here she was in a rough camp somewhere in Macedonia. She couldn't pronounce the name of the local village. “How come I can read ancient Greek, but I can't speak the modern version well enough to ask where the restroom is?” She pondered that for a moment before turning her thoughts to Janice Covington and why her father had advised her to find the young archeologist.

That woman is impossible She thought. Although, she has been getting better. And then wondered why she so badly wanted to befriend a woman that didn't seem to need more friends than she already had. And she wondered why her father insisted that she find Janice. What questions about life? She asked herself. Giving that train of thought up as being too philosophical, Melinda turned her mind to solving the problem of getting through Janice's emotional and mental walls.

Melinda Pappas didn't stop to think about why she was staging expanding her relationship with Janice into a full blown friendship as a battle. She just went a head and prepared a strategy, rehearsed it, worked the kinks out of it, got dressed, and headed out for the poker game. She was determined to at least befriend a certain gruff doctor of Archeology. Though her thoughts concerning the dig's director were not all that friendly or sisterly. Melinda didn't understand that either, but she was willing to make the first step toward finding out what her father had meant.

Melinda did know that drawing battle plans ran in her family; however, she had no way of knowing that none of her ancestors ever needed to attempt what she was going to. She also had no way of knowing that roughly two thousand years earlier, a petite strawberry blonde had set in roughly the same area plotting almost the same thing. The exception was that the Bard wanted in, not the Warrior. Never the Warrior, until now.

Neither Janice nor Mel realized that the Universe, in all its vastness has a twisted sense of humor, and when coerced by the Fates, cajolled by Time, and pleaded with by certain spirits and a forgotten god or two now residing in what has become known as heaven, it releases its power with irony in full force. As punishment for crimes neither woman committed that happened before their country of origin was even thought to exist, both Mel and Janice were forced to take on roles defined by their ancestors. The twist that made the Universe quiver with glee, and the Fates to laugh coffee through their collective noses was that the current players were not cast to play the original roles as defined by the first actors on the stage of life. The Bard had become the Warrior, and the Warrior a gentile Southern belle. Even the originals, resting on their halos in the Fields laughed and placed bets on the outcome with their friends. Neither Janice nor Mel would have appreciated the joke.

***

Janice Covington jumped out of bed. She stood in the center of her tent for a moment or two to let her thoughts catch up to her reflexes. The foremost question on her mind was why she was getting up. The answer was slow to appear, but when it did, it galvanized her into action. She had a reputation to protect, and she was not going to sully that rep by missing a poker game.

She ransacked her trunk to find a different shirt, preferably a clean one. Upon finding one and changing quickly, she grabbed her pile of coins saved for just this occasion, threw on her hat and ran to the mess tent. Janice slowed a few feet away from the entrance to compose herself before joining her friends and colleagues inside.

Paul, Julie, Roger, and (surprise, surprise) Melinda Pappas were already seated around the Round Table when Janice joined them. She took the seat nearest Mel, which had been conveniently left open. Janice peered around suspecting a conspiracy, but her friends just smiled innocently at her. That gave her curiosity a mighty tug, but she decided to play along.

"Ok, hotshot," Paul said to get Janice's attention. "I'm feeling lucky tonight. Think I might make back that money I still owe you from college." He reached around behind his chair and produced a bucket filled with water. "But first, I have a surprise for everyone. Close your eyes." He commanded setting the bucket on the table.

"Paul if I get soaked, I'm gonna kill you." Julie warned. Janice and Roger echoed the sentiment. Only Mel was close enough to see what the bucket contained and was not impressed.

"No one is going to get wet. At least not yet, so close those eyes up real tight." They complied and Paul set before each of them one bottle of German beer. Needless to say, Janice, Roger and Julie were very impressed.

"Now, then, I could only get six, and it cost me...well, lets not worry about that. Lets just enjoy the beer, game and friendship." He stated sitting back down.

Roger produced a pack of playing cards as Janice, Paul and Julie opened their beers. Melinda just looked at hers.

Well, I guess if I wanna fit in, this is one way. When in Rome and all that She thought as she struggled to open the bottle before her. Paul took pity on her and opened it with a bottle opener that had been sitting on the table.

"Ok, the rules are as follows," Roger said while shuffling the deck. "Maximum bet is twenty-five cents US or the local equivalent, dealer changes after three hands, the dealer is also in charge of calling the game, and if you get caught cheating..." He took a deep breath before continuing, "Then you obviously need more practice and deserved to get caught." The rest of the group laughed as he began dealing out the cards. "Five card draw."

"Well, I'll tell you one thing," Janice said after a long pull on her bottle. "Those Germans may be twisted sons of bacchae, but they do make great beer."

"Gee, Janice, don't you know," Julie asked as she assembled the cards before her in some type of order, "that beer is what Germans do best?"

Those at the table laughed, save for Melinda who tried to turn her grimace into a smile. She detested beer, and generally tried to avoid it. I guess its an acquired taste She thought as she took a smaller sip. Although she did have to admit that this one was better than the beer her brother drank. She soon found herself with another type of problem. She had no earthly idea what to do with the cards in front of her. Bridge she could play, poker was not one of her skills.

The rest of the group anted up and Roger prompted Mel to do the same. Mel noticed that the others were discarding cards and wondered if she should. She held a two of clubs, five of hearts, ten of diamonds, ace of spades and jack of clubs in her hand, staring at them as if they were Arabic. Taking a gamble, she placed the numbered cards face down on the table as she had seen Janice do, and waited. Soon Roger handed her three new cards before turning his attention to Paul.

Gingerly, they placed bets. Each one trying to feel the others out without looking like that was what they hoped to accomplish. Melinda kept an eye on Janice and mimicked her movements, except she refused to raise the bet any. After all, she really didn't understand what she held, and didn't want to be out that much change.

Finally, it was time to show hands, as the betting had begun to wear itself out. Paul and Julie showed only a pair each, one of threes and the other of eights. Roger turned his cards over with disgust. He really didn't have anything good to show, while Janice sat hers down with a smile.

"Three of a kind. Sorry fellas. Looks like this one is mine." She placed three nines on the table and reached for the pile of change. Roger stopped her hand.

"Wait a minute there little one, there's still one more hand to check. Melinda?" All eyes turned to the Southerner. Mel just shrugged and laid her cards down on the table face up. Janice let out a sigh of relief after seeing the pair of aces, jack, five and four.

"Yep, this one is all mine." She wiped the pile from the center of the table and proceeded to mix it with her own. Janice grinned the whole time. Mel shrugged again and handed her cards to Roger so they could be reshuffled.

The next two hands saw Paul winning one and Melinda winning the other. Dealership was then transferred to Janice as Julie went to the kitchen to fetch more beer. This time it was Greek and voted inferior to the German beer by all present. However, it was wet and it was beer so the grumbling didn't last too long.

The group talked as they played and drank. Mostly it was rehashing memories of digs gone by or voicing their hopes for the current site, even the occasional political discussion was started. Although that one was usually finished shortly before it could really begin.

Roger made the next beer run after Janice relinquished control of the deck to Mel. Mel was at a loss as to what to do. She didn't think that the others would be interested in bridge, so she did the only thing she could think of (with a little help from two beers): she dealt them all in a game of go fish. Julie and Roger were ecstatic with the choice as it was a break from the norm, however, Paul and Janice considered themselves avid poker players and grumbled at the choice.

Three hands later, Paul took control over the deck. Janice cheered, mainly because she lost all three hands of go fish, and volunteered for the next beer run. While she was gone, Mel took the opportunity to talk. She had been quite for most of the evening, nervous in Janice's company.

"I'm sorry for that game before, but I've never really played poker before tonight," She looked down at her hands while apologizing. Julie reached across the table and laid her hand on Mel's arm in a gesture meant to convey reassurance.

"Don't worry Mel, it was fun. Don't let Janice fool you. She's just upset that she lost." Julie told her with Paul and Roger nodding in agreement.

"I guess you're right, but I just...oh, never mind...its foolish and this is supposed to be fun. I guess the beer is just getting to me." Mel wanted to talk to someone and thought that Julie would listen, but she didn't want to do so in front of the others. Especially when she didn't know when Janice would return.

"Melinda," Julie tightened her grip on the Southerner's arm and looked her in the eye. Mel saw compassion and understanding there. "I know. Its tough, but its worth it." Julie would have said more, but she looked up in time to see Janice balancing five bottles of beer in her arms. Melinda didn't.

"What's worth it?" She asked before being clued in to the Archeologist's presence behind her.

"Yeah, what are you talking about. What's worth what?" Janice asked setting the beer on the table and laughing as it was snatched from in front of her.

"You are, you scamp. You're worth a pot of gold and the heart ache you give someone who tries to find it." Julie said unscrewing the top of her beer. Her eyes twinkled as Janice did something she rarely did. She blushed. "Seriously, I was just assuring Mel that all the effort we put into unearthing a dig is more than worth it."

Janice relaxed and sat down. Melinda hid a sigh of relief. She was not, by any means, a dumb woman, after all, intelligence ran in her family as well. She more than picked up on the hints that Julie had dropped, the innuendo placed out in the open, and the support of a willing ally.

By the time the evening was over, Janice had made good on her boast. She had won most of the remaining hands of poker and ended up with a good portion of the overall pot. With one annoying exception: Melinda had won the last bottle of German beer two hands before when Paul bet it in lieu of money. The poor guy had a horrible run of bad luck, and was forced to watch the remaining two hands as a spectator. They had adamantly refused to let him cash in more money. No one played with anything but the change they had collected between games. That was why they only played once a month. It kept them from getting into real trouble by losing part or all of their pay.

The last game had come down to Julie and Janice. Melinda had lost all but the beer and retired for the evening after the second to last hand. Roger pulled out early on while he still had some change left, and watched the two women go against each other. Julie had two pair, kings and fours, but Janice had three of a kind. To her chagrin, they were sixes. Roger and Paul teased her unmercifully about receiving the "unholy" hand.

After a few minutes of conversation while cleaning up and finishing what was left of their beers, the group dispersed. Janice was actually the last one to leave and smiled when she realized that Paul and Julie had walked back to his tent. She knew that they would probably see the night end and the sunrise together. A small part of her envied them, but the logical self denying part of her reminded her that she had too much to do to get involved with anyone.

As she walked back to her tent, she contemplated the choices she had made in her life. Satisfied with the outcome she dressed for bed. It wasn't until she reached up to turn out the light that she noticed the single bottle of beer on her desk. Getting up and examining it, she realized that it was the same bottle that Melinda had won an hour earlier. Janice placed the bottle in her desk drawer for safe keeping and went to sleep with a small smile on her face.

***

Days off were always done on a Saturday, and were done on a rotating schedule that had one fourth of the staff off at one time. Holidays were the only exception. Janice had adopted that from her father. It made sure that someone was always on hand in case of an emergency, and it kept the staff happy. Sundays were the one day everyone had off thanks to local law. The diggers had the entire weekend free. It kept them happy.

As a result of the relaxed schedule on Saturdays, it was generally a day to do inventory, clean the recent finds, catch up on paper work and do something other than manual labor for a change. Everyone, whether it was their turn to have a free day or not looked forward to Saturdays. Janice was no exception.

She had the chance to participate in her favorite weekend activity for as long as she wanted. Sleep. She slept long and hard on the weekends, making up for the long days and short nights the week before. When she finally did put in an appearance in the mess tent for breakfast (the only thing that could awaken her from solid slumber was food) only Melinda was there.

"Morning. Where's everyone else?" Janice asked as she sat her tray on the table and took her seat across from Mel. She was usually the last one to arrive for breakfast, which was served at a later hour on weekends, and the lack of Roger made her a little nervous. She figured Julie and Paul were worn out and still sleeping.

The tall Southerner had just finished her breakfast when Janice sat down. She hadn't been able to sleep very well the night before. Her sleep was plagued with weird dreams that she kept trying to remember over breakfast. She failed.

"Melinda?" Janice attempted to get Mel's attention, as the Southerner had yet to acknowledge her presence.

"What?" Startled blue eyes looked up into bemused green as Mel came back to earth. "Oh, I'm sorry Dr. Covington. What did you say?"

"I just asked where everyone else is." Janice was both puzzled and intrigued by the evidence of Melinda's wavering attention. The Southerner was usually on top of things as a rule.

"Oh, Dr. Grant was here earlier, but he left to go direct some grad students in proper record keepin'. Apparently they weren't doin' that great a job, and I haven't seen Dr. Stafford or Julie. Do ya think somethin' bad happened to them?" Janice almost lost the mouthful of coffee she was trying to swallow at Mel's innocent question.

"Nah, I'm sure they're fine. Probably just overslept." She assured the Southerner. I'm sure something happened between them, not to them, but I'm not sure if it was something bad or not Janice thought to herself.

While Janice ate her breakfast, Melinda sat at the table drinking her coffee and furtively inspecting her companion. Janice didn't look quite the ruffian she had first appeared to be. The clothes were pretty much the same, and she still smoked cigars, but after Smythe's unfortunate accident, Janice had quit wearing the gun. Mel reasoned that the overall appearance hadn't changed too much, but her perspective had.

When Janice had been packing up the truck to move the Scrolls to a safer site, she had promised Mel that they would see this out together. She had kept her promise, hiring Mel on as the official translator and giving the Southerner a reason to stay in Greece. The hard part for Mel was that her idea of together was obviously not the same as the good doctor's. Janice had meant being colleagues, Mel had hoped for friends at the very least. It was that hope that kept her in the camp despite the homesickness and heat. She felt drawn to the young Archeologist like no one else she had ever met before.

"Melinda? Earth to Mel. Miss Pappas are you in there?" Janice was standing above Mel looking down on her and waving her hand in front of her eyes. Mel looked up to see a faint sheen of pink tinge the doctor's face as she stepped back and allowed the Southerner some room. Gods, she really has no idea how attractive she is Mel thought. Her eyes followed Janice as the shorter woman reclaimed her seat.

"Melinda, are you all right?" Janice asked, feeling much better with some space between them. Standing by Mel's chair and looking down at her had allowed Janice the opportunity to see down the sundress that Mel was wearing. Janice brought her hand up to wipe away any drool that may have made an appearance at the sight. She should register those breast as lethal. Anyone would surrender just to see them up close.

Melinda looked down at her lap and then back up at Janice. "Yes, I'm fine. I've just had a lot on my mind. That's all." Yeah, like how to catch you and what to do with you once I've got you The Southerner felt herself flush at the thoughts that were running through her head.

Janice did something then that Mel would have never guessed her capable of. She asked if she could help with the problem.

Yeah, I just don't know how to tell you that. Mel thought. Aloud she said, "That's mighty nice of you to offer Dr. Covington, but this is somethin' I need to work on. Somethin' personal."

Janice, thinking that it was jealousy over Paul and Julie's relationship, let the matter drop. Which was good for all involved, because at that moment the two entered the tent.

"See, Melinda, I told you they just over slept," Janice changed the subject (sort of, at least she thought so) and pointed out the couple to Mel.

"That's good. I'm happy for them. You know, that nothin' bad happened to them." The tall, self possessed Southerner began to ramble. "I think I'm gonna go work on the translations a bit more. I'll drop the preliminary notes off by your tent this evening. Is that ok?" She asked standing to her feet. Janice just nodded at the uncharacteristic ramblings the older woman evidenced. Mel nodded back and blindly rushed out of the tent.

"What did you do to her?" Julie asked as she sat down her plate.

"Nothing. At least I don't think I did." Janice replied before standing up. "I think I'm going to go review the new plans and get started on some overdue paper work. Enjoy your breakfast." She smiled and nodded to both Julie and Paul who had just arrived at the table.

"Do I smell bad or something?" Paul asked sniffing his shirt.

"No, why?" Julie asked with a slight grin.

"Then why did they both leave when we came in? I know you don't smell bad."

"Thanks. I think our dear friend and our translator are just experiencing a small case of UST." Julie informed him.

"UST?" Paul looked blank at the term.

"Yep, Unresolved Sexual Tension. Don't worry, I'll have a chat with Janice about it this afternoon."

"As long as you don't resolve it for her." He warned her. "Unless I'm invited." He added waving his eyebrows up and down in an imitation of the movies.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm just going to talk to her." Julie assured him.

"Shucks"

Seconds later, the kitchen staff was complaining of water stains on their table clothes. Which is amusing because the tables weren't covered, but they were relatively new to the English language, so it could be excused.

Paul had forgotten to put up the bucket of water from last night. Because of his comment, Julie deemed a lukewarm water dowsing as fitting. Moments after that, she was running full speed through the encampment with a very wet Dr. Stafford hot on her heels.

***

"Janice, can you spare a minute?" Julie asked as she walked into the records tent. Other staffers and various students were engaged in either cleaning vases or catching up on their field reports. Janice was hunched over a list of the recent finds from the site. It wasn't a long list. This site hadn't been that productive.

"Damn it! I know there's something here." The Archeologist began pacing, heedless of the others present in the tent. Julie had long since grown used to this habit and just let Janice rant.

"There has to be something here. Maybe on the South ridge." She continued on in that vein for several minutes, all the while pacing back and forth in front of the table. Finally she stopped and noticed Julie standing patiently in the corner.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Paul decided it would be funny to drop me in the stream outside." Julie told her. She looked, to Janice and the rest of the tent's occupants, like a dirty, half drowned rat. Her blonde curls hung loosely around her face and down her back, and she was covered in clay. She looked pitiful. Those not too awe struck by the normally composed woman's appearance found it hard to contain their laughter.

"So, was it?" Janice asked trying to casually hide her mouth behind the report she had been reading.

"Was what, what?" Julie asked shaking her head. That did nothing to improve the situation.

"Was it funny?" Janice managed to get the question out before laughing. Julie looked down at herself and started laughing as well.

"Seriously, Jan, can I talk to you for a minute or two?" The blonde asked. "In private?" She added after Janice had nodded and indicated for her to go ahead with the conversation.

"Yea, I guess so. We can go to my tent if you want." Janice answered as she led the way outside the records tent.

The trip to Janice's tent was quite. Both women were absorbed in their own thoughts, and neither felt like making idle conversation. Janice thought she had a good idea of what Julie wanted to discuss, the relationship between the camp secretary and Dr. Stafford was beginning to heat up. The Archeologist assumed that they would be discussing Paul.

Julie was pondering how to broach the topic she had intended to advise Janice on. That of UST. It was obvious to Julie, Paul (well, maybe not Paul) and Roger that both Melinda and Janice were suffering from it. Though whether it was over each other remained to be seen. They could both just be incredibly horny. She also could have been misreading the signals, but she doubted it. Something deep inside her was telling her that this time, it was different.

They ended up seated in Janice's tent with one of them on the bed, and the other at the desk. They set in silence for a few moments while each one thought of and discarded possible ways to begin the conversation. Janice leaned back on her bed and took the initiative.

"So, Julie, what's going on?"

"Uh, well, I really don't know how to start this..." She trailed off and lit a cigarette to hid her awkwardness with the topic. Janice sighed and lit a cigar.

"Julie?" Janice tried to get her friend's attention after moments passed with no other sounds in the tent other than the exhaling of smoke.

"Sorry, Jan, I guess I wondered off there for a moment. We've known one another for how long now?" The blonde asked.

"Longer than I can remember." Janice answered getting annoyed with the beating around the bush. "Look, Curly, I think I know what this is about."

"You do?" Julie raised her eyebrows in question. She thought this would take the petite Archeologist by surprise. "What do you know?"

"Its kinda obvious. You and Paul have hit it off extremely well." Julie made as if to interrupt, but Janice kept on going. "I love you both dearly, and if you're worried I might be jealous or anything, don't be. I'm happy for you both. Honestly I am. Just don't try to make me wear a dress to the wedding." She chuckled.

"I wouldn't dream of it, but Janice, about Mel..."

"Melinda Pappas may be jealous a little, but I wouldn't worry too much about it. She hasn't known Paul all that long. I'm sure she'll get over it." Janice got out of bed and motioned to the front of the tent. "Now, let's get back to work. Shall we?" She extended an arm to Julie.

"But Janice, what about you?"

"What about me?" The Archeologist was confused by the turn in conversation.

"I mean, you can't do all this alone." Julie took her hand and stared her friend in the eye. "Honey, I'm worried about you. Solitaire is not a good game to play all the time."

"Thanks for the concern, Curly, but really, I'm fine. Happy even." The shorter woman shrugged. "Besides, I'm not alone. I do have friends you know. You are even one of them." Julie smiled sadly. She knew Janice was right, but she still felt she had to try.

"I know, but Janice..."

"Its fine. I'm fine. Let's leave it at that ok? Now let's get out of here before Paul thinks I've seduced you." Janice smiled as she deftly avoided the topic and started toward the tent opening.

"Well, he does have good reason to think that. You are a charmer when you want to be, Janice Covington." Julie laughed and headed out behind her friend.

"Thanks, but I wouldn't even try it a second time. Although it did work once."

"Yeah, but Janice we were only children. You were what, 16 and I was 18?" They both smiled at the memory of their long ago tryst. It was after the death of Julie's mother. Their combined tears had led to one night of misery turned to fumbling passion. It had only happened that once, and neither one of them regretted the act, denied it, nor tried to continue it. Even though Julie sometimes wondered if it would be better now that Janice had more practice. The closest they had came to it was after Harry Covington's death. Julie could now say that Janice was one hell of a kisser, but that was all.

"I think so. You were right. We're much better as friends. Paul's a lucky guy, and you're a lucky girl." Janice picked up her pace a bit before adding one last comment. "He's pretty good too you know. For a guy." At that she took off running. Julie was right behind her.

Janice made it all the way to the stream before Julie tackled her. Soon both women looked like dirty, half drowned rats. Their screams of mock outrage and laughter could be heard echoing through out the dig site.

***

Melinda, like most of the others in the camp had heard the screams as Julie and Janice ended up in the stream. She had gone to investigate, but soon realized her assistance was not needed. So she watched the two old friends frolic a bit before returning to her tent.

She hated to admit it to herself, but she was jealous. Not of Julie really. She was well aware that the two half drowned rats were nothing more than friends, but she envied that friendship. She had began to realize that she wanted that type of bond with Janice, and it depressed her that someone else had been there before her.

It wasn't until she tried to get back to work that she realized she was jealous of Janice and Julie's relationship for more than Janice. She never had that feeling of freedom both women seemed to take for granted. They laughed, drank beer, played poker, did whatever they felt like they wanted to. I bet they bed whoever they want whenever they want, the Southerner thought a little ruefully causing herself to blush. Her experience with sex was limited to maybe three nights of fumbling with Jason. She still didn't understand the attraction so many had for physical acts of passion.

Her mother and grandmother had kept her under strict control while she was growing up. She wasn't allowed to do anything that failed to meet their approval. Melinda Pappas had a lonely childhood as a result. Obviously, they didn't. She thought about the Archeologist and the Secretary. Bet they caused all sorts of trouble. Yes, Melinda was envious of their freedom both past and present. The same way she was envious of her brother, for the same reason.

Visions of Janice as a child soared through the Southerner's mind. Her imagination compared her's with Janice's in various situations. Placing them both in Melinda's memories, she saw Janice defy the Southern Matrons, and herself cower in front of them. The edges of the visions were blurred, as if someone else were showing her these things, or trying to stop her from seeing them. Abruptly they stopped.

You aren't under anyone's control now, you know.' A voice said into Melinda's mind. You have gained your freedom. Let go of the past and embrace the present. You'll never live until you do.'

Melinda jerked out of her bed wondering just when she had fallen asleep. My goodness, what did that dream mean? With each second the dream faded back from her awareness, but the voice stayed. That voice, it was so like Janice, only softer somehow. Gentle.

Melinda put her head in her hands and sat that way for a long few minutes. Finally she decided the heat was getting to her mental state, and resolved to dress more for the climate again. No matter what her upbringing had imprinted on her.

With that in mind, she collected the notes she had made on one of the Scrolls, and went to go find Dr. Janice Covington.

***

Janice had just changed out of her now filthy clothes and was reaching for a cleaner undershirt when someone cleared their throat in front of her tent.

Damn tents. No doors to knock on. She looked down at the pile of clothes at her feet and grimaced. Julie, it was fun, but now I've really got to do laundry. Maybe I can send a few of the grad students into the village Monday to have it done.

"Come in," Janice yelled to the silhouette outside her tent as she put on the white cotton t-shirt and grabbed for a more decent shirt to wear over it. Melinda walked in just as Janice had located one.

Oh, my. Melinda thought as she walked in on Janice. The Archeologist was wearing a pair of khaki pants that had yet to be buttoned, and a plain white men's undershirt, no sock, boots or anything else. Her strawberry blonde hair had been washed but not dried and was pushed back behind her ears. God, she looks great like that, and so young. The Southerner flushed.

Janice, who had forgotten that Mel wanted to talk to her after the translator had reviewed the Scrolls, just stood there for a moment pondering the look in Mel's eyes. Is that look what I think it is? She asked herself before regaining her senses. She turned around, tucked in the t-shirt into her pants, and fastened them. Nah, it can't be, can it?

"Well, Ms. Pappas, what can I do for you?" She asked turning back around to find Melinda staring at the floor.

"Well, I thought that maybe you wanted to read the notes I've made on the Scroll I've been working on." Melinda shyly looked up at Janice and handed her the notebook. Janice dropped her shirt on the bed and took the notebook from Mel's hands.

"Thanks, here have a seat," Janice cleared the papers off her desk chair and indicated that Mel should sit there. The Archeologist stared at the notes in her hand a minute before looking at Mel. "Sit down, really, I don't bite. At least not too hard." She smiled at Melinda until she realized the joke fell flat.

"Maybe I should just let you read over those. We can discuss them when you're finished." Mel had no idea why she was suddenly shy. Janice had on more clothes than those pictures she had found in her brother's room once a long time ago. She had to admit that the Archeologist looked better than those Frenchwomen in the photos, and she shaved too. That was a big plus. It was just that the tank style shirt accented the younger woman's curves, and Mel had to admit, that she look sexy disheveled. The Southerner blushed again.

"Sure, if that's what you want." Janice told her. She was slightly confused about the Southerner's reaction. Maybe there's something in the Scrolls. "Listen, I'll find you when I'm done looking these over. Does that sound ok?"

Melinda nodded and silently left the tent. It wasn't until Janice sat down on her bed to read that she realized how she had been dressed when the Southerner had entered the tent.

"Now, that was an odd reaction," She said to herself. "You'd think she'd never seen anyone half dressed before." The blonde Archeologist shook her head and started to read the understated yet neat handwriting of the dig's translator.

The story in the most recently translated Scroll turned out to be the story of the Warrior and Bard's first meeting with a god. Morpheus, the ancient god of dreams. It was obviously written sometime after the actual event had occurred. Although how much time had passed was not certain.

"This was probably written after Gabrielle decided to become a Bard," Janice muttered aloud.

The Scroll was written from an uninterested third party point of view, but the language used suggested that Gabrielle was the author. She rarely made mention of herself, but Janice felt a grudging respect grow for her ancestor. According to the Scroll, the Bard (who referred to herself as either Xena's young companion, which made Janice raise an eyebrow at the implied relationship, or as the would be bride of the Dreamworker) had managed to keep herself alive and her blood innocence intact long enough to be rescued. It sounded like it was quite a feat, and the young woman had accomplished it very well. Janice was impressed.

Janice rested the notebook on her knee and thought about the tale. She wondered if Gabrielle had really been that humble or if she had written that Scroll before she had been associated with Xena for a long period of time. It’s a shame we know so little about her. Janice thought. After all, Boswell, the man who recorded Ben Johnson's life had his own biography. Homer had his, sort of. At least, he can be proven to have existed outside of spirit saying so She wasn't sure if her colleagues at the university would accept Xena's word of her friend's existence as fact since Xena was roughly 2,000 years dead.

All in all, Janice thought it was a good story and a believable one for her colleagues. The god in question never appeared, and it read like a ancient cult acting out a ritual. The supernatural overtones of the dreamscape would be over looked as creative metaphor by those that either refused to believe or had not been trapped in a tomb with Ares. Ares had turned Janice into a believer of the so called supernatural real fast.

The young Archeologist had first begun searching for the Scrolls to prove her father right. That had been a little over two years ago. She had just gotten her doctorate and was on a dig in Mexico when word of her father's death had reached her. She had made a promise at his grave side in Cairo that she would continue his work and realize his dreams for him. It took her three months to find a replacement for herself at the Mexican dig, and to arrange for university funding to take over her father's dig in southern Macedonia, with herself as the director of course. She tried to keep everything above suspicion, for she was, like her long dead ancestor, an honest, honorable person with a very persuasive will. The university had agreed and Janice stepped into her new position.

It wasn't until they had stumbled onto Ares's tomb that Janice had begun to wonder about the identity of the Scrolls' author. It wasn't until Xena possessed Mel that Janice saw Gabrielle as something more than a tag along. She had seen it in the Warrior's eyes (Mel's eyes as...never mind) as she told the story of Gabrielle. Xena had obviously respected and cared for her friend. To Janice that translated as the Bard was worthy of admiration. From all she knew about Xena, the Warrior didn't suffer fools (except for Joxer) and had very little patience (even with Joxer).

The conversation with Xena had made Janice curious about Gabrielle. Two years after assuming her father's work, Dr. Janice Covington had turned the search for the Scrolls into her own. Oh, she'd admit that she was half in love with Xena, which was why Melinda made her so uncomfortable, but now the search was to know her family, to know her history, to learn about her so-far-removed-I'm-not-sure-you-can-call-her-that grandmother.

"Its about time," A low voice sounded in her ear. "You finally figured part of it out. Congratulations, I won the bet. The next part is easier if you'll let it be." The voice was soft and melodic with a slight accent to it that sounded Australian for some reason.

Janice jumped out of bed and looked around her empty tent. "Some dream," She mumbled as she picked up the notebook from its current resting place on the floor. She tried not to think about the dream, which involved the Warrior, Mel, the Bard and herself. She sat back down on the bed for a moment before making up her mind to go find the Southerner.

"Maybe Mel can shed more light on Gabrielle," Janice told herself. She was aware of the perfectionist side of the Southerner. Mel would translate a rough copy of a Scroll, refine it, proof it, set it aside and work on another before going back to the previous one for a final proofreading. It was a slow process, but Janice felt it was worth it. She hadn't found any errors that first time when she had checked the translation to the original. Not that she would, Mel was infinitely better as a translator than Janice was. So, the Archeologist reasoned that Mel would have rough translations for at least two or three different Scrolls.

With that in mind, Janice grabbed her hat, lit a cigar, and headed out to find Melinda. She made it five feet outside her tent before rushing back inside, pulling on the other shirt she had abandoned hours previous, and then resumed her quest.

The distant thunder sounded suspiciously like laughter. It was the Universe enjoying its game.

***

After leaving the Archeologist's tent, Melinda decided she needed to talk to someone about her confusing thoughts and feelings. She had to admit to herself that she was attracted to Janice, but had no idea what, if anything, she should do about it.

She remembered Julie's comments from the night before and thought that she would be a good person to talk to. Mel had always thought women were easier to discuss matters of the heart with, she had found only two exceptions: she had always felt as if she could tell her father anything, and never trusted her mother. That lesson had been learned the hard way.

With the thought of a willing ally in mind, the Southerner began her search for the camp secretary.

***

Julie had been sitting outside under a piece of canvas trading laughs with Paul when she looked up and noticed Melinda walk by. The tall Southerner looked so sad and distraught that Julie pointed her out to her companion then whistled for her attention. Melinda turned, noticed the couple and shyly walked over to join them.

"Well, well, Ms. Pappas, what's the long face for?" Paul asked as Melinda gingerly took a seat on the ground.

"I'm just tired, I guess." She told him. Julie was not convinced that the Southerner was just tired and searched her brain for a way to get Paul to leave without being obvious.

"Why don't we play some more poker this evening?" the blonde woman suggested. She knew Paul loved poker and would volunteer to set up the game.

"That sounds good, but what are we going to bet? I'm all out of change." They pondered that in silence for a minute before Paul had a brainstorm. "How Ôbout we use matches and stuff like that. I'm sure I can get Roger to help me locate some stuff." He stood up and dusted his pants off, excited about the suggestion.

"That sounds like a good idea. Maybe Melinda and I can go to my tent and see what we can find there. How Ôbout you tell Janice to meet us in an hour?" Julie stood up and extended an arm down to Melinda and helped the Southerner stand. They both dusted themselves off and straightened their clothes.

"That sounds like a plan. See ya there." With that, he jogged back to the camp and Melinda followed Julie to the secretary's tent.

They walked in an uneasy silence, but once in side the tent's entrance, Julie motioned for Melinda to sit on the bed, as she took a seat on her trunk.

"Wanna talk about it?" The blonde asked quietly.

"I'm not sure if I can. I'm just so confused about everything."

"You're attracted to Janice aren't you?" Julie was nothing if not blunt. Melinda nodded and stared at the floor. "Is this the first time you've been attracted to a woman?" She thought that was what caused the taller woman's discomfort. Finding a difference like that, especially in someone with Mel's upbringing, was often tough for someone to face within themselves.

"It's..." Melinda brushed a tear off her cheek. "The first time I've ever really been attracted to anyone." She told Julie in a subdued voice.

"So, you've never been with a woman, sexually?" At Melinda's shake of negativity, Julie continued. "Have you ever been with a man?" Melinda nodded again, still looking at the floor. "Were you attracted to him?" God, getting this woman to open up is tougher than getting Janice too. At least Jan will spill everything once prodded long enough. She thought to herself.

"I was sorta engaged to be married before his ship went down." Melinda took a deep breath before continuing. "My mother was going to make us get married. I had been datin' him for about four years, just to keep them quite. He was a friend, and I loved him, but I was never in love with him. Never attracted to him, never enjoyed it." She was crying openly now, so Julie got up and held her.

"When my daddy died, he told me to come here and meet Janice, but I never really knew why until now. I think I'm falling in love with her, and I don't know what to do about. I don't know what to do." Julie just held her until the tears had run themselves dry and Melinda was ready to listen to reason.

"Well, that's a tough one. Lucky for you, Janice is...," She stopped to find a way to put it delicately, "She does appreciate the female form. She's more than worth any effort. I think you need to decide what you want. If you want her, you'll have to catch her. She won't chase you."

"Why not?" The Southerner asked as she unwound herself from Julie's embrace. She had been worried that Janice would be upset or offended. Or worse, not interested in her. That would hurt.

"She respects you." Came the reassuring response. "Janice won't try anything with someone she respects, unless they give her a clear signal to go ahead."

"Did you...are you...have you..."

"Yes," Julie cut her off "Once, a long time ago. And almost again two years ago, but we're better as friends. Janice... we..." She sighed. "I wish that...sometimes I wish it could be different, but I'm just not that way. Paul's more my type."

"Why not two years ago? What happened?" Melinda was curious despite herself.

"She passed out." A rueful chuckle accompanied that statement. "It was right after her daddy died, well, right after the memorial in Cairo. We went out and got completely drunk. I held her as she cried, and one thing started to lead to another. I did learn that she has become one hell of a kisser, even intoxicated." Melinda blushed and wiped the tear stains from her face.

"Um, don't you think maybe we should go join the others?" Julie asked standing up and heading out the tent.

"Julie," Melinda came up behind her and reached for her arm. "Thank you for that. I really needed someone to..." The camp secretary cut her off by giving her a hug. The startled Mel returned it.

"It was my pleasure," The blonde told her. "Now, go get cleaned up. I'll meet you in the main tent."

The two women parted ways. Neither one saw Janice Covington standing behind them.

***

Janice had fruitless searched the area around Mel's tent and the records tent before running into Paul. He had just returned from putting all the matches and rocks he had collected into little piles on the Round Table.

"Hey, there, boss. What do you say we play some poker tonight. We're gonna bet with something other than money." The blond man was enthusiastic about the planned game.

"Sure, Paul, that sounds great. Have you seen Mel anywhere?" Janice would not admit that she was concerned, but she was.

"Yeah, she went off with Julie. I think they wanted to be alone for a few minutes." Paul didn't see the curious look that crossed his friend's face. "Listen we're supposed to meet in about ten minutes. See ya there?"

"Yeah, sure. Say Paul, when was it you last saw those two?"

"Um, about an hour ago why?"

"I was just looking for Mel. Had a question about one of the Scrolls. That's all." She turned in the direction of her childhood friend's tent and called back over her shoulder that she would see him at the game.

The walk to Julie's tent was a short one, and when she got there, she saw Julie stride out of the tent looking slightly rumpled. Melinda followed her a moment later. It was obvious to Janice that Mel had been crying. As she watched the two women hug and listened to their conversation, she became confused.

That didn't really sound the way I took it? Did it? The Archeologist thought as she headed toward her tent. She thought best while she moved. Nah, Melinda probably cried out her homesickness on Julie's shoulder. That's all.

Janice was surprised by a sudden feeling of jealousy over that thought. And it had nothing to do with her childhood friend. That really surprised her. She ducked back inside her tent to think about it.

"Ok, I know I'm attracted to Mel, I mean really, who wouldn't be? But jealous over her crying on Julie's shoulder? Why? I mean, I like her..." Janice was pacing around her tent as she muttered her thoughts aloud. She didn't hear Roger enter. She didn't see him until she walked into him. "I know I like her...oomph."

"You need to pay a little more attention, little one. Are you alright?" The big man asked, rubbing his chest where Janice had collided with it.

"Yeah, I think so," She answered rubbing her nose. "What are you wearing under that? Armor?"

"Nah, chain mail. Its easier to conceal. You're about to miss the poker game. We're all waiting for you." He advised her.

"Go ahead and start. I'll be there in a minute. I hafta make sure you didn't kill my nose." She shooed him out.

"I'm sure its fine. See ya there," He chucked and turned to leave. "Oh, yeah, Janice? I'm glad you figured it out." He left before she could reply.

"Figured what out? That I like Mel, or that his chest is as hard as his head?" That got her started on another circuit. "I like her and I'm attracted to her. What am I going to do about it? Guess I could find out how she feels. Or I could just go for broke and let her know. What would Gabrielle do?" She wondered as she followed the trail from her tent to the poker game.

Little did she know, that the situation between her and Melinda was still causing the Universe to chuckle. Had she known, then she would have understood why the thunder she kept hearing never got any closer. Janice would also have benefited from asking what Xena would have done, ok, on second thought, no she would not have. The Bard had plotted the capture of the Warrior's heart. Janice was right to ask what her ancestor would have done.

In the Fields, the Bard got pinched for laughing at that. Everyone else got a glare. Warriors are a touchy lot. Even long dead ones.

***

When Janice entered the tent she noticed that everyone was in the same position they were in the night before. She again took a seat next to Melinda. This time, she was a little nervous. She had decided to approach the Southerner after the game to test the waters. She wanted to see where she stood before anything else.

The game was already in full swing, so she just sat back and waited for the hand to be played out. Sitting in front of her was a pile of rocks, a pile of matches, and a pile of chipped pottery. She pondered the pottery for a moment before she recognized it. It was what was left of the vases Smythe's men had broken when they attacked Mel three months ago. She had forgotten that an industrious undergrad had put all the broken pieces in a box. He wanted to see if he could put them back together. Janice had told him that he had a severe obsession with Humpty Dumpty.

"Um, Janice?" Mel felt she was taking a risk by calling the Archeologist by her first name. She was encouraged when Janice turned greenish blue eyes her way and didn't protest. "Can you tell me what I should do here?"

Janice looked around and saw no protest before she nodded and scooted her chair closer to Mel's.

"Let's see what you have." Janice leaned closer to peer at the cards and almost closed her eyes as her pupil's perfume hit her. It was a light fragrance, kinda like fresh roses and vanilla. For some reason, she had been expecting jasmine and leather with the faint sent of horse. It was disconcerting.

Turning her attention back to the task at hand, She noticed that Mel had the most elusive of all hands. A Royal flush in hearts. Not wanting her companions at the table to hear, she leaned even closer to whisper in Melinda's ear. Of course being that close to the translator was a secondary reason. Well, maybe it was the other way around.

"You should hold what you have there. Its an unbeatable hand. Keep a straight face and bet whatever they ask you to." She advised. It took a minute for Mel to understand what she had said. Janice's close proximity was a little distracting, as was the warm breath that tickled her ear.

"Have you ever had one of these?" She whispered back. Causing Janice to entertain several lewd thoughts about the translator. She just shook her head and backed off to a more respectable distance.

The others took their cards and looked at Mel in suspicion when she declined to draw any others. They understood why five minutes later when she won the pot and Janice patted her on the back. The Archeologist had a smile on her face, and Mel returned it when she looked up. For a minute, neither woman could speak. Roger broke the moment when he handed the cards to Janice and explained what each pile represented monetarily.

She looked around and saw understanding smiles on her friends' faces. Well, not Paul's he was a little oblivious about the whole thing.

"What do you say? Seven card stud?" She began dealing before they could answer.

The evening went along almost like the previous one. They drank coffee instead of beer, none of them were really big drinkers. They only indulged on occasion, and the monthly poker game was one of the few occasions they agreed warranted it. Paul still didn't win that much, but Melinda did. Between her and Roger, the others lost their rocks. Nobody complained, not even Janice. They just wanted another evening of fun and companionship. It was hard to find anything else to do in west of nowhere.

Once again, Melinda left before the last hand. The rest voted Roger the clean up man since he won, and since the only things to put up were the cards and substitution betting chips. They all put away their own coffee mugs. Most were taken back to the tents for the evening.

Janice went to Mel's tent after she had lit a cigar for courage. It gave her something to occupy her hands with. She used a cigar as a tool of distraction.

To her surprise, the Southerner was not in her tent. Janice, losing courage, went back to her own.

She had just gotten into bed and fallen asleep when she had a nightmare. According to her watch, only half an hour had passed since she left the poker game. She was filled with an undeniable urge to find Melinda. The urge was so strong that Janice only slipped on a pair of pants, her boots, and threw her jacket on over her t-shirt before she was outside her tent.

Some compulsion led her to the eastern part of the dig. It was an area as yet untouched by the diggers, and looked unpromising. Janice saw her quarry sitting on a little rise staring at the moon.

***

After leaving the poker game, Mel decided to walk around the camp a little. She needed to work things out in her head, and thought the peace and quiet of the dig site would help. She sat down on a little rise overlooking the eastern part of the dig and stared at the stars.

Wonder if they ever saw them like this? If they ever had time to just stop and stare at the stars? She wondered about the ancient Warrior and Bard. Nothing she had read about in the Scrolls so far had said much about their private lives. So far most of them had been about the first year of their acquaintance, and they really didn't even seem to be friends. Just companions without the company.

Kinda like me and Janice. I guess they grew closer over time. Bet we can too, we have so far. She assured herself, after all, things had been warming up between them over the past few days. Maybe when we find more Scrolls, we'll learn more about their lives outside Xena's heroic deeds. Melinda shared Janice's view that there were more Scrolls out there to be found. They just had to know where to look. She believed that the Warrior and the Bard had several years together, and that the Bard had written more than just the nineteen Scrolls they had found. Well, twenty one if you count the two that went with Jack. Three of those not counted in the nineteen were continuations of other Scrolls, and two more contained two stories each, those like the Marcus one were short and distant. That made for a total of 23 stories, twenty one of which they had, and ten of which she had fully translated. Who knew what she would find in the others.

Melinda was so deep in thought over the Scrolls, having cowarded out and not given much consideration to the reason she was on the ridge, that she didn't hear Janice approach.

"Nice night, mind if I join you?" She asked as she extinguished her cigar under her heel. It gave her something to do while she waited on Mel's answer.

"Sure, I mean no, um..please, have a seat." Seeing Dr. Janice Covington standing in the moonlight with only a t-shirt under her jacket and shyly staring at the ground, gave Melinda the answer she was looking for. Yes, she wanted the woman before her, she loved her, she was attracted to her, and she would fight for it.

"Thanks," Janice sat down beside the Southerner. She felt the change in the air flow around them and realized that the thunder she had been hearing all day was gone. The Universe was holding its breath.

"So, what are doing out here?" Melinda asked politely. Her heart was beating so hard that she would have sworn the Turkish forces could hear it.

"I came out to find you." It was said quietly, so quietly that Melinda almost didn't hear it, but then super hearing ran in her family.

"Did you have a question about the Scrolls?" She wanted a negative answer. She really wanted a negative answer.

"No, I just wanted to talk to you. Is that ok?" Now Janice was nervous.

"Yeah, that's fine. Great. Its nice. What do you want to talk about?" Babbling didn't run in Melinda's family, but she was certainly doing that.

"Are you, uh, happy here, Mel?" The Archeologist asked her. Please say yes, please.

"I guess so. I'm not unhappy" At least not now.

"But are you happy?" Janice stressed. Seeing Melinda's shrug she continued. "What would make you happy?"

"You." It was a whisper. Janice barely heard it, and could have ignored it if she wanted to. She really didn't want to.

"I was hoping you would say something like that." The Archeologist felt the wind stir around them as the Universe sighed. "I've begun to like you a great deal. I don't want you to go anywhere like back home. Unless you want to, I mean."

"No. I like it right here. I'm not going to leave you Janice." Melinda promised. "We go together." It was a test. She wanted to see if Janice meant the same thing she did by together.

"Together." Janice reaffirmed. The Archeologist paused for a moment and then leaned over and kissed a startled Mel. "Was that alright? You're not going to flip or anything are you?"

"I'm fine. I don't think could do a flip if I tried." Mel quipped. This time she leaned in, Janice met her half way. They took their time, Janice kept all contact light. She didn't want to frighten Mel by going too fast.

"We have all the time in the world, right?" She asked. Mel, being a little short of breath, nodded. "Then let's take it slow and easy. Together." She promised again.

"Together." Melinda echoed. "Julie was right."

"How so?" Janice was confused by the sudden change in conversation.

"You are one great kisser." Melinda had the distinct thrill of seeing Janice blush for a change.

Janice stood up and brought Mel along with her. "Why don't we go shopping on Monday. We can take off and go to one of the larger villages. And I can get my laundry done."

"That sounds good." Mel stood up to her full height, and then took advantage of it by leaning down and kissing Janice. "Maybe we should go back and go to bed." She blushed again at Janice's upraised eyebrow. It had taken centuries before anyone in her family could do it, and Janice, although she didn't know that, wasn't going to let the skill go to waste.

"I know, separate tents. Separate beds. Shared dreams." Janice took Mel's hand and led her back to the camp.

Together. They both thought.

In the Fields, certain spirits were giving one another high fives, while two were claiming their rewards from each other. The Universe sighed again. The Fates warned it against sighing. That's how comets collide. It replied that this time, two hearts did. Two souls were rejoined. Together.

end

#xena #xena warrior princess #xena/gabrielle #xena/gabrielle fanfiction #mel/janice #mel/janice fanfiction #author: blue dragon #mature #femslash #fanfiction

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withercat-writes · 5 years

Note

strife 90

Hey uuuuuuuuh what the hell happened to this? I’m sorry I didn’t mean to ramble. Warning for drug use but it’s Strife c’mon you expect that. AO3 Link

It was a rainy night, but Strife paid it no mind, umbrella in hand and sunglasses pushed over his eyes to avoid detection, he walked confidently into the dingy warehouse, not bothering to look behind him as the car pulled away. He’d been waiting for this all month, and he had made extra sure to Parvis proof the plans, and thus, he was alone, finally.

Walking in the warehouse was dark, but an area with a few candles caught his eye, yes there it was. He walked over, a table set up and a deck of cards, he looked over at the people playing hand and he tossed some money onto the table, “Deal me in Minty.”

Minty gave a polite smile and said “Oh I’m glad you made it Strife, I was worried that the weather would stop you from coming,” though Strife knew that even if she was quite polite, she could break most people like a toothpick, and while normally he would never lump himself in with ‘most people’ Minty could absolutely break him like a toothpick also.

“Of course an evening playing cards and away from Parvis-” he gave a small glare at Xephos who gave a knowing look. “Nothing could have stopped me.”

“Really I think you were late because you were a chicken! A pansy chicken” Sips crowed, grinning, he had the most chips on the table, someone was doing quite well tonight Strife noticed, before slipping his shades back to his head.

“Not a chance Sips, someone has to take your dirty money from you and clean it up” Strife remarked back, making the entire table groan as Strife smirked

Xephos in particular held his face in his hands “Must you Strife? We’ve all heard that joke so many times.”

“And make the William Strife come up with new material? We both know he could never!” Ravs snarked taking his chips out of his mug and stacking them on the table to clean the mug more, a clear sign of bragging, seems Ravs was doing second best.

Strife finally took a chair and Sips slid him a cigar, Strife happily took it, no comment made between them, as Strife waited for the next hand. After a few minutes of watching and a few more cards dealt to no reaction beyond Ravs sighing and folding and the others throwing a few more chips into the pot they flipped up there cards to Minty’s check, she was a good card shark, Strife couldn’t help but smile as he remembered the one time Sips tried to cheat and got hogtied to the roof by her with ease, that was hilarious he still had the pictures.

“Xephos has a straight, Sips has a three of a kind, Nano has a two of a kind, Nilesy has, a straight flush? Seems it’s turning up for you, Nilesy wins the hand.” Minty said after a quick examination of the cards and Nilesy grinned and pulled in the cash, Strife realized he hadn’t seen any other chips with him, he must have gone all in.

“Oh come on! Must I lose every good hand I have??” Xephos groaned as he looked to his dwindling pile of chips, at this rate he’d be first out.

“Don’t blame me Xeph, the cards just like me more! Really if you slips me a few diamonds I could lend you a few of mine-” Nilesy wheedled before Xephos interrupted

“Isn’t the price usually that or friendship”

Strife snorted a bit at that, ah Nilesy, still so idealistic. Nilesy seemed to huff though as he pointed his nose in the air and said “Well I thought we were already friends Xephos how dare.”

“Well we uh are I suppose hm, still not paying you diamonds though.”

“Geeez what a cheapskate whatever though enjoy the walk of shame in oh, five minutes.”

Snickers littered the table at Xeph’s expense who blushed a bit.

“Alright boys settle down, mama needs a new pair of shoes, Minty deal for us wont you?” Nano interjected, getting the game back on track

“Of course, usually blinds, Ravs and Sips you’re up.”

Ravs and Sips rolled there eyes but tossed a few chips in the pot and Strife asked while Minty dealt “Let me guess, Rail Bros failed to show again?”

Nano shrugged as she checked her cards “Eh when do they ever, say they should be less busy next month hopefully, maybe we’ll even get to see them for a minute!”

The table laughed for a few seconds as they also checked there cards and Ravs spoke up “Eh screw them anyways we don’t need them to have some fun, since this is all of us you guys want to break out the keg I brought? Only a hundred bucks to use it!”

Strife found himself feeling a bit parched and spoke up “I’ll give you fifty and a hit of redstone.” taking out the bag, he would need that concentration for the game and Ravs grinned.

“Deal give me that hit!” and reached into his big bag by his feet and pulled out a decent sized keg with ease.

“Dealer gets free drinks.” Minty said casually as she grabbed a cup and got some to Ravs rolled eyes, but he didn’t protest. “Besides your swill isn’t worth 100 anyways, it’s basically fifty percent squid ink these days.”

Ravs crossed his arms and complained “Rythian doesn’t notice or care you should all be like him” very notably not denying the claim.

“I think if Strife tried to be more like Rythian, he’d explode he’s basically the antirythian.” Xephos remarked, not grabbing a cup himself, just taking a swig from a flask, someone was pregaming.

Strife checked his cards ignoring the banter, red jack heart and red heart four, not bad. His neutral face scanned the group as they settled back down for another round, Xephos itched his nose, he had a bad hand if he had to guess, Sips was as steadfast as ever, not giving a thing, and Ravs had no shame in thumping his face into the table in defeat, he was bluffing he’d use that trick before, he must have a great hand. Everyone else gave away nothing yet, Strife clicked his tongue as the table went around to him “Check.”

“Oh someone’s being a pussy.”

“Shut up Nilesy”

“He does have a point though Strife, the nights young.”

“You just want me to lose more money then you might.”

“I take offense at that.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Watching as the game continued and soon Minty dealt cards onto the table, Strife clicked his tongue, dammit, black spades eight, black jack clubs, and a red six heart, dammit all. At least he still had a pair which was better then an ace high.

“Check again”

“Chicken”

His eyes darted to the speaker, Sips, before speaking, his brow had a slight furrow, he had a terrible hand now, and he had bet earlier hadn’t he, bastard probably was hoping he could at least get ahead of him in money lost here.

“Bite me”

The hand continued a six black spades had appeared, giving Strife a two pair, and everyone was checking, wait no Ravs had just raised, and soon it was his turn to call, the hand was no longer free, and Strife figured they were right, the night was young.

“Call.”

“So Strife how is your business going anyways, still taking that leave of absence with Parv?”

He rubbed his face, how dare Nano remind him, “Unfortunately yes, someone has to keep him alive and that’s my problem to deal with, he listens to me the most so I can’t just hire someone easily, it’s a pain. Xephos you know the debt wasn’t worth this pain.”

“Well I didn’t know at the start he’d get into blood magic Strife, that’s your fault.”

“Augh.”

Holding his face in his hands, the rest of the hand went by without any notice as Strife grumped about being stuck with Parvis. He tied the hand with Ravs, who also only had a two pair, huh guess the move earlier was a double bluff, when did he get good at poker?

Strife didn’t know but the rest of the night Strife’s concentration wavered, even as he took a few hits of redstone, he found himself, uninterested in the game, and he looked around the area he was in, a dusty old warehouse, no electricity or heating, the sound of a storm outside, why was he here. His eyes fell upon his companions, and wondered how they got here, old memories of a childhood long gone flashed behind his eyes.

He looked to Nano, when did she get so, defensive? Sure even as his childhood friend and crush she had always been feisty, but never so on guard, she went missing when he was sixteen, and only recently a few years was found in the Nether, memories of her childhood gone, his heart tugged for a minute for her, she was still the girl he had loved, but she never did settle back in with the group again, never fully having the connection the others had, and yet she showed, why did she force herself to show? Strife wasn’t sure, but he could tell that she was in pain, was it the flux? Or something more? He would never know.

Next up was Nilesy, a skittish kid the group met in high school that swindled away Sips’ entire wallet, he fell in fast with the group when he realized they weren’t about to murder him when they confronted him, a kind trustable face to a cunning viper in a tie, rumors spread about what happened in Cabertown, but whatever had happened there, it changed Nilesy, now on guard as well, with a stiff posture, what had he and Ravs done?

And Ravs, the pickpocket and get away driver in the band of youths, he used to be so carefree yet wise at times, just wanting money and something in his hands to fiddle with. People say there were no survivors of the Cabertown Riots, and yet, he and Nilesy sat before them, denying they had ever been there, but a greed of a new kind had entered Ravs eyes, it worried Strife, what had driven such a simple guy into a frenzy behind his smile? Why did Nilesy always keep an eye on him? What had he done?

Minty served up another hand, and Strife couldn’t help a small smile as he remembered the day he and her met, she beat him up thinking he was Sips, the dumb and mildly concussed Strife of only thirteen had proposed on the spot, must have been weird for her, She did seem apologetic when she learned he was in fact not the half dwarf Sips, and instead the supposedly completely human Strife. She brought him homework and sweets, tutoring him where he fell behind and training him how to break out of grips when she wanted to practice her martial arts. She now had a knife under her sleeve at all times now even more poison in her polite smiles, rumors of all kind swirled around her, perhaps military service? Or she became a mercenary? The more, crass rumors he had stomped out sparing no expense, Minty didn’t deserve that. All Strife knew for sure, is that Minty has killed at least one person, and it changed her forever.

The Rail Bros, well, they were an oddity, while not here tonight they had been the groups dealers, and the ones with the bail money, while they had fallen mostly out of contact with the bros, they still had a place for them at there table.

Then there was Xephos, yup there was certainly Xephos, Strife was glad his hero complex was doing better, that caused them a lot of trouble in there youth, Xephos need to cause trouble, just to save the day, its a miracle they weren’t arrested, its a miracle Xephos got Honeydew. Though Strife was still pissed about Parvis, he knew Xephos was a good man, better then him that’s for sure.

Last but probably least, was Sips himself, the half dwarf was an oddity among the group. The only openly nonhuman, the group made sure any who fucked with him got beat the shit out of, Sips was too slow to anger for his own good after all. He had been the comic relief and sleaze of the group, joking and charming his way out of trouble, though rarely taking the group with him with it. The unofficial leader, he encouraged Strife to go to college with him, and later saved his life from the blood magic. He changed the least, out of the group, but even he wore the weariness of age, no longer just zoning off, Sips always looked like he knew something, and that he desperately wish he didn’t. Strife could only guess what it was, he heard rumors about something to do with copper? What abyss had Sips looked into?

Strife leaned back in his chair as he folded his shit hand, and now here they all were, meeting in an abandoned warehouse to play poker once a mouth, just like they were 14 again and had the world in there palms. They really did have it now, but Strife wondered if it had been worth it, what had happened to the energetic group that loved life? He didn’t know, and now they played poker pretending the atrocities they had seen and done never existed, that everything was still okay, that there was some semblance of sanity. Maybe that’s why the Rail Bros never came around anymore, perhaps they grew up where he could not? Perhaps they gave up holding onto the past? Strife frowned, he couldn’t do that, it was one of his very few chains, if he forgot the past he’d just become, a shell, he had to remember why he was here, and not get lost to his secrets and drives for power and cash, to remember his humanity. He knew the day he stopped coming, was the day he could no longer be called human, and so as he watched the group play, a fakeness and feeling of forced from every action, Strife could not stop himself from asking to the group, letting every inch of weariness and age show in his words.

“Do you remember when we were all little?”

Then the group was silent, and Strife knew he had broken every facade there, the group would never be the same.

Strife could only pray it would do some good, and not bring the chaos he feared so dearly that would befall it from challenging the unspoken rules.

#Nilesy #Ravs #William Strife #Xephos #Minty #Nanosounds #Sips #Yogscast

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orderoftheavengers · 6 years

Photo

The Other Guy

BRUTUS “BRUCE” BANNER

Summary: Ilvermorny potions prodigy, turned giant green werewolf.

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Ilvermorny House: Horned Serpent

Species: Human, werewolf (unique, potion-created breed) Blood status: Muggle-born

Wand: Womping Willow wood, 15 inches, unicorn tail hair

Broom: Tinderblast (not the fastest, but the most durable)

Familiar: Cute little barn owl named Ruffalo/Ruffles

Specialty: Potions

Patronus: Brown Bear

A New Kind of Werewolf

When Brutus "Bruce" Banner was in his first year at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he was taking potions class with the sixth years. His house was Horned Serpent, the egghead house. He was dating Zarabeth "Betty" Ross, of Thunderbird (the "warrior" house), daughter of auror Thaddeus Ross. For his final project of his first year, Bruce was working on an assignment that involved creating a potion that would grant the drinker some impressive powers. Wanting to go above and beyond, Bruce tried to re-create the super-auror serum that had resulted in Steve "the Captain" Rodgers.

Now, mixing the saliva of a werewolf and the blood of a troll into the Polyjuice potion, adding a dash of Doxy venom, a few hairs from a Metamorphmagus, and dropping in a dragon scale to finish it off, and then testing this concoction on yourself probably doesn't sound like a very Horned Serpent or Ravenclaw thing to do. But for an eleven-year-old, Bruce was showing some stunning genius, and took more precautions than most first years in his place would've.

Still, the results were catastrophic. And green. And furry.

On the Run

Thaddeus Ross became obsessed with "containing" the "monster," or worse. (Which is obviously kind of fucked up, since Bruce was still not even twelve yet.) Obviously the Ministry of Magic wasn't going to let Thaddeus kill a kid, but even they couldn't completely control the overzealous auror. Thaddeus's daughter Betty helped Bruce flee Ivermorny. Bruce tried hiding out in some magical communities at first, but soon discovered that the more magic there was around him, the more likely he was to lose control. Maybe it was physical contact with extra magic that made the wolf harder to control, or maybe it was just the stress of being in a community where everyone knew what he was. But in any case, Bruce fled the wizarding world, and lived among muggles in various foreign countries, usually in the sketchiest parts of the cities. A muggleborn, Bruce was already somewhat estranged from his parents, and didn't feel much loss in cutting contact with them.

While hiding out in a muggle favela in Brazil, he kept regular owl-contact with a mysterious pen-pal who went by "Professor Blue," who helped Bruce come up with temporary antidotes for his condition. The now twelve-year-old wizard supported himself mixing colorful paints for those kickass favela buildings, and made a few friends. His next-door-and-one-square-up neighbor was a snake who apparently knew Harry Potter. (Communication between Bruce and his scaly neighbor was limited though, as Bruce didn't speak Parselmouth and the Snake could barely write in Portuguese.) Thaddeus eventually found Bruce, and rode into battle astride a Portugues Longsnout. The dragon's flames however had no affect on the giant green werwolf. Fortunately, no muggles were hurt in the battle, except a group of drug lords who'd just assumed they were hallucinating and didn't get out of the way. Bruce fled into the rain-forest, where he transformed back into a human. He wandered alone for a while until he happened on a friendly chuppacabra that agreed to give him a lift. The chuppacabra didn't speak Protuguese, but told Bruce in Spanish that he wasn't in Brazil anymore. Figuring hiding out wasn't working, Bruce decided to go back to Ivelmorny where most of his old research was, and continue working on a cure. The chuppacabra gave Bruce a ride all the way back to the States, stopping for a few portions of goat for lunch along the way. Bruce reunited with Betty, and together they traveled overseas to Hogwarts to meet "Professor Blue." How did Bruce figure that was where Blue would be? Well in all his letters he kept mentioning "tea" and "ugly Christmas jumpers," and regularly had to be reminded that the asshole chasing Bruce was not a "Slytherin." When they finally met, Blue--actually a forth year named Samuel Sterns--was very disappointed to learn his cover had been blown so easily. (It appears that while Ravenclaws are usually brilliant in some areas, a lot of them lack some ingenuity outside the lab.) While the three worked on finding a cure for Bruce, the Sorting Hat dropped by to inform Betty that she was a Gryffindor, and Bruce a Ravenclaw. (Betty had a mind for science yes, but that was overriden by the courage and fortitude she'd inherited from her homicidally brave father; it takes a Gryffindor to go after a Hulk, and an even bigger Gryffindor to love one.)

Ross caught up to them again, now with a Chinese Fireball. A massive battle ensued all over Hogwarts' grounds. While on his defensive rampage, Wolf-Hulk wound up toppling a few castle towers, uprooting the Whomping Willow, and flinging the Giant Squid through the wall of the Great Hall (insert sushi joke). The Quidditch pitch was also pretty much decimated. This was not a good day for groundskeeper Argus Filch. The battle finally ended when Professor Neville Longbottom (now teaching herbology) announced via microphone-wand-spell that if Thaddeus didn't break off his attack ASAP, he'd call the Ministry on him and he'd have all of his medals and mustache confiscated indefinitely. The Ministry of Magic had arrived by then, and took Betty and Bruce into custody.

Unbeknown to our heroes, a neighbor back at the favela named Emil Blonsky had witnessed Bruce transform into "the incredible green furry," and was overcome with awe and envy. He tracked the heroes to Hogwarts, and cornered Sterns in his lab, demanding the Ravenclaw transform him into a badass like Bruce. Sterns immediately replied, "Holy balls, you look JUST like that guy from 'Four Roo--'" Blonsky's hand around his throat cut him off. Sterns reluctantly agreed to inject Blonsky with Bruce's blood, and then ran for cover (all the way down to the dungeons, past some Slytherins entering thier common room, and diving under a green-and-silver sofa where Tony Stark was reading a dirty "Veela" magazine).

Blonsky transformed not into a green wolf-ogre, but instead, an orange ogre-troll. He bellowed, "I AM ABOMINATION BITCHES!!!!" to the un-phased Hogwarts populace (who witnessed stuff like this every other week), and then promptly began smashing down the towers, Quidditch stadium and Whomping Willow that Argus Filch had just finally finished repairing.

Everyone in Hogwarst was quickly evacuated to Hogsmeade, so Bruce could smash-fight Abomination without worrying too much about collateral damage. Betty however secretly stayed behind, and at the end of the battle, begged Bruce not to kill Abomination.

"Bruce please, he's already died in 'Reservoir Dogs'..."

"Huh?"

"I AM NOT TIM ROTH!"

Bruce punched Blonsky, shutting him up.</b>

The Ministry of Magic quickly arrived to the scene and transformed Blonsky/Abomination into a ferret, before taking him into custody. Ross was about to order his dragon to blast another fireball at the Hulk-Wolf; but seeing human Bruce hugging his daughter, Ross finally admitted to himself, "Maybe there is something a little bit wrong with trying to kill or arrest a twelve-year-old..." The Ministry still wanted Bruce in custody though, and Bruce was forced to flee again after bidding Betty a tear-jerker farewell. After the credits, Thaddeus then went to the Three Broomsticks to get drunk and smoke a cigar; Tony Stark attempted to make a cameo, but didn't get one sentence out before Rosmerta noticed the firwewisky margarita in the underage Slytherin student's hand, and chucked him out.

Order of the Avengers

Bruce went back to hiding out amongst muggles, this time in Asia. The stress of trying to keep the wolf repressed resulted in half a head of gray hair before the poor little wizard was old enough to be bar-mitzvahed. Things got so low that at one point, he stood before a mirror and attempted to cast Avada Kadavara on himself. The "other guy" spit the green death-blast out (incinerating a nearby adult video store and causing a mass UFO conspiracy in the area). So he got passed his depression, and moved on by helping people. He used his magic to cure diseases for sick muggles in the slums of the third world, ignoring the Ministry's rules completely. Then one day, a redhead confronted him with a wand, and introduced herself as Natasha Romanoff. She wasn't here to kill him. She was here to recruit him for the Order of the Avengers. The program was at Hogwarts, so he'd have to go back to school; but at least it wouldn't be the school where his accident had happened, with all the bad memories. Bruce finally gave in, and began classes as a third-year Ravenclaw. Bruce contributed both brains and brawn to the Order, and became "potions bros" with Tony Stark. Bruce learned the hard way that while Ravenclaws and Slytherins make great lab partners, the latter can be a very bad influence on the former. If Bruce had a knut for every time Tony talked him into some experiment that backfired on them, he'd be richer than Harry Potter.

Bruce's other closest friend was fellow Ravenclaw Natasha, who had once been brainwashed by Death Eaters. She and Bruce bonded over the fact that at heart, they're both Ravenclaws, but have been transformed into some kind of monster or another against their will. They began dating, but no one's sure if they're still a thing, or if it was just a fling.

Detention With the Grand Master

In his final year at Hogwarts, Bruce, along with Thor, had to miss out on the epic illegal Quidditch match the other Avengers arranged. (Fortunately, it sounds like Thor and Bruce didn’t miss much, as the whole “civil war” game was less of a “deep clash of ideals” than a “drunken brawl fueled by Idiot Balls.”)

Defense Against the Dark Arts Class. Actually, most of the Avengers were behind in that class. But when Professor Masters--AKA “the Grand Master”--assigned all the failures to detention in the Dark Forrest, Bruce was the only one studious enough, and Thor the only one concerned with his fighting skills enough, to obediently attend their detention instead of playing Quidditch.

In detention, the Grand Master--Hogwarts’ latest eccentric D.A.D.A. professor--forced various badass students to duel each other, for cheering crowds of cheering centaurs, unicorns, merfolk, and other strange creatures. And while wearing ridiculously fruity gladiator outfits. (And the Grand Master’s henchmen will tell you, forcing a giant green wolf into Roman armor is no cakewalk.) Bruce and Thor had an epic duel, before the werewolf noticed Loki, and made like a pooch chasing a screaming, squealing car.

But the group wound up having to play Hooky after all, with Thor’s homeland at stake. Bruce helped Thor and Loki defeat their evil half-sister Hela, and almost caught himself a break....

As if.

Waning Powers

A regular werewolf will change with the moon no matter what. But Bruce was no regular werewolf. The potion that had transformed him had contained hairs from not only werewolves, but Metamorphmagi as well. And those who knew Nymphadora Tonks know that a Metamorphmagus’s powers can be affected by their mood.

Thanos gave the green wolf such a frightening beating, that the “monster” refused to “come out” afterwards, even when Bruce desperately needed him to. Thus, Bruce was forced to fight like a boring regular wizard, on a broom with a wand. Green asshole.

But after Thanos’s Dusting Curse murders half of Bruce’s friends, and half the universe he’d worked so hard to redeem himself by protecting, the wolf returned full-force...

Professor Wolf

With help from Tony and Shuri, and his own Ravenclaw cleverness, Bruce finally found a way to make peace with “the other guy.” He now walked around in the form of a furry green humanoid, taking the name “Professor Wolf.” Since Thanos’s curse and following tyrannical rule exposed the magical world to the Mugggles, Professor Wolf gained some new Muggle fangirls, mainly from the segments of Muggledom that frequented DeviantArt and Fur Affinity.

Time Travel

Deep in Snape’s old Potions dungeon, Tony, Bruce, Rocket, and Shuri–who was not Dusted!–all get together to brainstorm how to use the Spirit Realm for Time Travel (since Thanos destroyed all the Time Turners).

The four geniuses exchange ingenuity and banter, and it is brilliant. Rocket, a niffler, is enamored with Tony’s chest amulet, and steals it, causing some health problems for Tony. This angers Professor Wolf, who chases the niffler/raccoon hybrid around the lab until he catches him and makes him into a violent chew toy.

Shuri snags Rocket from the Wolf, and the amulet from Rocket. Struck with inspiration, the Wakandan princess makes some adjustments to the amulet, to Tony’s embarrassment and begrudging awe. This leads to a “eureka!” moment for the four of them, in regards to the Time Travel problem, and they finally get it solved.

Ravenclaw to Ravenclaw

Bruce gets the Time Stone from fellow a Ravenclaw, the Ancient One. Not battle or trickery is needed for this one; just honest, Ravencalw-to-Ravenclaw reasoning. When Bruce tells her about Strange sacrificing the Time Stone to save Tony, she realizes what this must mean, and hands the Stone over to Bruce.

After losing the Ravenclaw closest to him--Natasha Romanoff--Bruce is as devastated as Clint. Professor Wolf roars, and tosses a bench into the lake. The kids sitting on the bench, Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley, barely react, as they too were close with Nat and are mourning her. Even the Giant Squid is too sad to be bothered by the littering of his lake.

But later, when Bruce is fighting Thanos in the final battle, something extraordinary happens...

Bruce and the Wolf fight Thanos once more, now together, and wielding the red Infinity Wand. Professor Wolf is struggling to simply turn Thanos and his minions to dust, but it’s one Infinity Wand up against another. As the two Infinity Wands blast against each other, a light begins to glow in the middle of the two spells. Bruce suddenly hears a familiar voice, half in his head. “Bruce, give someone else a turn.” Natasha–or a ghostly version of her–is emerging from the middle of the two Infinity Wands’ spells. “Priori Incantatem!” shouts Shuri, from her blue-and-silver panther broom. “Or something like it! Two sets of Infinity Stones blasting against each other, their past spells are regurgitating!” The moment of shock distracts Bruce long enough for Thanos to blast him to the ground. The grape bastard is about to pick up the other Infinity Wand, but spirit-Nat delivers a kick to his face. It’s not a huge amount of damage–she only has the typical strength of a very angry poltergeist–but it buys enough time for Spidey to swing by and snag up the wand with his web, and the battle continues...

Epilogue

Bruce, Sam and Bucky have a brief scare, when it seems that Steve has massacred the timeline for personal gain; but this false Steve turns out to be only a Boggart. The real Steve has returned just a few minutes after schedule, and has only made one tiny change to the timeline; saving Nat.

Professor Wolf is now in the dungeons of Hogwarts, teaching Potions. Bruce can alternate between any of his three forms at will, and actually tends to teach in his boring, adorkable human form (with only the green tail).

Wand, broom, etc. Ollivander has crafted for Bruce a wand from a branch of the Whomping Willow, the only wood green-Bruce can't instantly snap in half. It contains a unicorn hair. Bruce's broom is a Tinderblast; though not as fast as some other models, it's highly resilient, so Bruce can ride it even if he transforms. Bruce's Patronus is a bear (all Patronuses are silver, so Black, Brown, or Polar isn't really a factor here). His specialty, obviously, is potions--his initial first-year accident notwithstanding. A/N: Bruce was blessedly easy to sort, draw, and write a Potter AU for. Tony and Dr. Strange are too overflowing with Slytherin-style heroism for me to let them go to waste as Ravenclaws, just because they happen to be geniuses. Bruce on the other hand, his personality and powers really do revolve around his mind--even his Hulk related ones.f

#bruce banner #hulk #hogwarts house #ravenclaw #werewolf #chibi #hogwarts #potterverse #harry potter #order of the avengers #incredible hulk #mark ruffalo

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