(no subject)

[nike_ravus]

Title: Custodian (2 of 8)
Author: Alsike
Rating: M, for Murder
Pairing: Look, do you want the various hook-ups or the true-love destiny, because either way I'm not telling you.
Summary:

Sent to San Francisco to eradicate a leak, Jill, Emily and Claire wind up on the trail of a serial killer that leads them into the dark depths of the Connecticut Mafia.

(Even if no one is reading this, i am posting the damn thing, because it's finished and has irritated me for a month!)

Jill fell asleep on Emily’s shoulder during the flight.  Claire got an upgrade to first class, leaving Emily to sit awkwardly and wonder whether it was her own fault for being neurotic and emotionally unavailable that she felt so uncomfortable with physical contact, or if it was her mother’s fault for being unaffectionate and emotionally remote.  She usually blamed herself.  Emily had never been physically affectionate.  Surely it couldn’t be her mother’s fault that the- (she counted) -four relationships she had ever been in were either secret, based on convenience or both secret and based on convenience.  She didn’t believe in Freud.

And before she had started working for the Cabots she hadn’t had a friendship that wasn’t about manipulation or personal gain.  The FBI was as bad as politicians in that way.  It was odd that the first person who hadn’t treated her like an enemy or a pawn was her colleague in the Connecticut Mafia.  Morgan had been a bit of an idiot, but he had treated her like a person.  She had almost gotten used to the idea of ‘joking around’ when he screwed up and was transferred to Siberia (technically northern Saskatchewan, but the difference was minimal).  Jill had taken his place, and had somehow automatically assumed that they would get dinner together, and talk about unimportant things and eventually important things, and after the first time Jill had hugged her goodbye Emily realized that she had someone she could call a friend without the irony and air quotes.

Unfortunately, Emily thought, as Jill twisted away from her shoulder and leaned against the window, leaving her with a nagging feeling of disappointment, she wasn’t very good at having friends.

It was only 9 by California time, and Jill, completely refreshed from her nap, decided it was still early enough for them to go out.  She seemed to assume that Emily would do whatever she wanted, which wasn’t exactly untrue, and focused her attentions on convincing Claire, who seemed unimpressed with the idea.

Ignoring them, Emily glanced around as they passed out of the secure area.  There was a woman holding a sign that read Kirchner.  It was professionally lettered and she was even wearing a chauffeur’s cap, but her expression of utter disdain made it obvious that this was not her usual job.  Emily suspected that this was their contact.  She was incredibly good-looking, as most employees of the Cabots seemed to be, tall and athletic-looking with brown hair and long legs in well-cut slacks.  Emily glanced back to her companions and she suddenly felt a stab of fear.  Jill was giving her that look that said she had caught her checking the woman out.  She elbowed Emily surreptitiously.

“Go for it.”

Emily cringed.  One of the problems with being friends with Jill was that she had been pegged as ‘repressed,’ and Jill made it her personal mission to encourage her into as many liaisons as possible.  Emily’s tendency towards tragically unrequited love affairs was verboten.

And, as expected, Jill strode right up to the woman and stuck out her hand.

“Hi, I’m Jill, that’s Claire, and the one who was checking you out is Emily.”

Emily went scarlet.

“And you?”

“Sara.”  They shook hands.  Sara turned to Claire and gave her an odd half bow.  “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

“I have too.”

Jill was confused and looked at Emily, who didn’t understand either, but hadn’t forgiven her yet, and looked away.

Sara led them out to the car, another ubiquitous black SUV, a Lexus this time.  Jill wouldn’t let Emily ignore her for long.  They slid into the back, while Claire took shotgun and Sara drove.

“Who is this girl?” Jill muttered to Emily, not quietly enough.  Claire turned in her seat to look at them.

“Don’t you read those papers you steal?  Sara Sidle is our regional expert on forensic evidence.  She developed two new methods of untraceably destroying a body.”

“Then why’d you bring me?” Emily grumbled.

“Because you shoot people.”

Silence filled the car.

“Not for fun,” Emily finally responded, and put her hand on Jill’s to make her stop shooting invisible lasers into the back of Claire’s head.  Claire had only heard about it through official channels, and criticizing her lack of tact in only this situation would be unfairly arbitrary.

They pulled up outside of a plain house, the drive shadowed by trees.

“This is it.”

“Sara,” started Jill.  “We were thinking of going out and having a good time tonight.  Do you want to come along?  Show us some good places?”

Sara looked surprised at the invitation.  She glanced at Claire who looked irritated but resigned.  “Uh, sure.”

“Great!  Ten thirty?”

“Okay.”

Claire groaned audibly.  Jill leaned into Emily and whispered into her ear, “Help me bully Claire into something sexy.  We need to get her laid tonight, since you’re set.”

“Shut-up,” Emily hissed.

Jill was complaining about Claire’s sneakers when Emily got out of the bathroom.  She glanced over and then looked.  Emily froze.

“Fuck,” said Jill.

Emily cringed, and then cursed her mom for giving her an involuntary revulsion to swearing.  But her mom had expected her to go into politics, not crime.

“You are so fucking hot.”  Jill shook her head.  “If it weren’t for my rules…”

Emily had heard this one before.  Jill didn’t sleep with friends.  From her research, Emily had decided that Jill divided all her relationships into two groups: people I like, and people I fuck.  In regards to this, Emily thought Jill’s complaining about her own romantic neuroses to be a little rich.

“Yeah…” Emily looked at Claire, who was regarding the situation with her usual impassivity.  Jill had done a good job.  She had gotten her out of the hooded sweatshirts that made her look like a high-school student.  Bony shoulders though.  “You look nice.”

Claire nodded, obviously not caring.  Emily found that attitude to be healthy and resolved to imitate it in the future.

Sara was precisely on time.  No one else was ready so Emily stood in the kitchen with her awkwardly.  She deduced that this wasn’t really Sara’s thing.  Starting conversations with people she didn’t know wasn’t Emily’s thing.  The clock above the doorway ticked away a full minute.  This was humiliating.

“So, Claire said something about you developing a new way of destroying corpses?”

Sara’s relaxation was visible.  “Two ways, actually.”

Her awkwardness cut the arrogance of the statement.  “Are they convenient?  Because the worst part of a scene always seems to be dragging stuff around.”

Sara nodded, agreeing.  “Well, they’re not good for any situation.  And they don’t solve any problems except what to do with the body.”

“What are the methods?  I mean, burning isn’t convenient, and the cement shoe has gone out of style.”

“I have this one using bugs.”

Emily blinked.  “How fast…”

“It only takes two or three days.”  Sara looked exited now.  “If you get enough of them they’ll destroy the body completely, planting larvae in the bones and even breaking them down.”

“That’s incredible.”

”Have I just stumbled upon the most disgusting conversation on the planet?”  Jill looked truly repulsed and Claire gave her an odd look.

“How did you get involved in cleaning crime scenes?”

Jill shrugged as they all started for the car.  It was a long story.  “How did you?”

Claire pressed her lips together into a thin line.  No-go area, obviously.

“Better question.  What’s your type?  I’m having an altruistic day today, and I need to know who to hook you up with.”

Sara was looking absolutely dumbfounded.  Emily sighed.  “We’re not usually this trivial, honestly.”

“I don't have a type.”

“Have you had sex?”

That was blunt.  Claire glared at Jill over the tops of her glasses.  “Yes.”

“And…”

“I can’t say it created a desperate urge for more.”

Jill grinned.  “Guy or girl?”

“It was a man.”

“Okay, we’re looking for a girl tonight then.”

“What?”

“Well, men obviously failed to impress, so let’s try a new option.”

“I’m not attracted to women.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me that Emily is not one of the sexiest women on the planet.”

Emily shuffled down in her seat and tried to reduce her visibility.

Claire looked blandly at Jill.  “Emily is not one of the sexiest women on the planet.”  Her voice was utterly flat.  There was a long pause and no one blinked.  Then Emily heard her the most unnerving uncanny sound.  Claire was laughing.  Jill’s jaw dropped.  “All right!  That is such a blatant lie.  But it means nothing!”  She shook her head.  “Why are we wasting our time on this?”

“Team bonding,” replied Jill.  “Emily’s idea.”

Even Sara glared at her for that.  Emily hid as best she could.

*            *            *

Jill thought things were going pretty well.  Sara and Emily were comparing stories about escaped brain matter, which made her want to vomit, and about three people had checked Claire out already, even though she was acting like a seriously peeved robot. 

Getting the drinks was a good way of avoiding brain splatter stories as well as the next series of Claire’s bored fidgeting.  Altruism didn’t feel as bad as expected.

She had been hit on by two guys already, one skinny with Italian stubble, and the other built with washboard abs, but even if it wasn’t her altruism day, she was having a pizza night.  That was how she explained it to herself.  In general Jill went for guys with the occasional exception.  But working around women like Emily and Claire all day everyday made guys less than satisfying.  It was like working in a pizzeria, surrounded by bubbling sauces and melting cheese, and not being allowed to sample anything, and then, after work, someone offers you ice cream.  You like ice cream, but seriously, you need pizza.

The bartender looked up from under the bar and smiled.  It was the widest, brightest smile she had ever seen.  The skin around the woman’s blue-grey eyes crinkled.  Her eyes were a strange contrast to her dark hair.

“Sorry.  The management don’t like it when I flash the populace.”

The woman was holding shut the front of her strapless halter-top where the laces had come undone.

“No trouble.  I can wait.  Or… help?”

“I charge extra for that,” she replied with another broad grin, and Jill made her decision.  She had to hook Claire up with this woman.

“How much?  Don’t double knot that thing, you never know when you need to get out of it.”

“More than you can afford.”  She replied, not offended at all.

“How about her?” Jill jabbed her thumb in Claire’s direction and the bartender glanced over.  Suddenly all the playfulness in her expression was gone and her odd pale eyes looked strangely cold.

“Who is she?”

“…Claire?”

“I think she could afford anything.”  Then the woman seemed to focus and her smile was back.

“Yeah?”  Jill frowned.  She didn’t trust that quick change.

“Sexy glasses, you know, I have a weakness.  What’s your order?  I’ll bring it out.”

Jill gave it to her, hesitantly.  She’d give Claire a heads-up, just in case.  She slid into the booth across from her and leaned on her elbow.  “I may have picked someone up for you.”

Claire’s glare could have melted steel.  Before Jill could explain her worries the woman was over there setting down the four drinks, giving a smile to each of them, and lastly putting down the one in front of Claire.

“For you.”

Claire flashed Jill a harsh look and then glanced up into the woman’s face.  The bartender smiled and Claire looked shocked and unsettled.  Jill frowned and wished they hadn’t had to leave all their weapons in New York.  But then Claire looked away, as if she were embarrassed, and Jill gave up on following what was going on.  Either they were long-lost enemies, or this was what love at first sight looked like from the outside.  And truthfully, Jill had no clue which one it was.

“Lori!  Get back to your post!”

The bartender, Lori apparently, glanced over at the voice and wrinkled her nose at him.  “Don’t screw this for me, loser!”

Then she bent quickly and wrote her number on a napkin.  “I’m off at midnight.”  She gave a brazen grin, tapped Claire on the nose and left.  Claire looked floored.

“What is this?”  She picked up the napkin between her fingertips as if it were contaminated evidence.

Jill sat back, smiling awkwardly.  “I have no clue.  But I’m pretty sure if you want to test that lesbian hypothesis, you have a willing subject.”

Claire crumpled up the napkin, but didn’t throw it away.  Instead she stuffed it in her pocket.  “I’m not attracted to women.”

Jill glanced over to the bar where the woman was laughing and arguing with the guy who had called her away.  “You sure?  Because I’d hit that.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed.  “Don’t you dare.”

And Jill just laughed.

*            *            *

Sara was really cute when she smiled, Emily had noticed, but her smiles were rare, and usually sad.  It was also clear that if she made the first move, Sara wouldn’t say no, but it would also be just the one night, and that would make the rest of the week awkward.  Either way, Emily wasn’t one to make the first move.

Her eyes drifted over to where Jill was trying to convince Claire to dance, or at least go sit at the bar and chat up that really intense bartender.  Claire was having none of it.  She almost laughed when she saw Claire break her impassive mold and lunge to throttle Jill, who side stepped out of the way.  Then she caught Sara watching her with an understanding smile and Emily felt the rush of panic hit her.  She couldn’t understand.  That was not okay.

Sara’s hand was suddenly on hers and she tipped her head towards the door.  “Let’s go outside.”

The air was chill, but not near freezing like it would have been in New York.  Still, San Francisco was not the 70-degree paradise that Jill had described.  Emily wrapped her arms around herself and stood awkwardly next to Sara who was twitching her fingers.

“This was a lot easier when I smoked.”

Emily let out a chuckle.  “I can see that.”

Emily Prentiss had never smoked, well, according to her mother.  Still, one cigarette outside her private school in Turkey was not something to brag about.

“This sort of partying isn’t my thing.”

“I guessed.”  Emily sighed and turned to Sara who had her hands in her pockets, her head tipped forward.  It was pretty clear that she wanted to say something but didn’t know how to start.  “Look, can we just not talk about it?  I don’t need…”

“No!  I totally understand.”  Sara shared another of her shy half-smiles, and Emily thought she might understand quite a lot.  Still, not talking about it was the best plan.

“Good.”  Emily stepped into Sara’s personal space and cupped her cheek.  “Is this okay?”

This time Sara really smiled.  “I thought you didn’t want to talk.”

I don’t, Emily considered saying, but it was a waste of time, and just kissed her instead.  Yeah, that never making the first move thing was more of a guideline than an actual rule.

*            *            *

Emily and Sara had disappeared, and Jill finally gave up on trying to make Claire dance or move any closer to the bar.  Her altruism had run its course, and she was pretty sure the other two had departed with the car, so she and Claire had to make their own way home.  But she was out, and if you were out you ought to dance.

Jill turned, surveying the room, and caught sight of a redhead sitting half turned out of a table full of rowdy drunken boys.  She looked bored and like she wanted to be anywhere but there.  It was as good an opportunity as anything.  She sauntered over and gave the girl a smile.  “You want to dance for a bit?”

The girl looked surprised and did that stupid glance around thing to certify that she was the one being asked.  She looked eager, then guilty.  One of the guys at the table gave her a shove.  “Go on, Cin.”

“Oh man, I won’t need porn tonight.”

Jill caught her hand and pulled her up.  “You looked like you wanted to get away.”

The girl chuckled softly, pushing escaped hair behind her ear.  “Yeah, drunken reporters, ugh.”

Jill tensed and then forced it away so the girl wouldn’t notice.  “Reporters?”  Newsmen were bad news.  When you committed crimes for a living (or practiced law), you knew to avoid them.  Let something slip and your cover was gone.

“After work drinks.”

“So… You’re a reporter?”

“Cultural Events.”  Cultural Events, that was okay.  As long as it wasn’t crime.  “But I really want to be an investigative reporter.”

“Oh.”

“What do you do?”

Jill froze.  “I’m a lawyer for the mob.”  Cindy looked at her oddly and then gave a hesitant smile.  Jill laughed at the discomfort on her face, and Cindy laughed along with her, assuming it was a joke.  “I’m a lawyer.  But I defend scummy corporations, so it feels like I work for the mob sometimes.”

“Cindy Thomas.”  She stuck out her hand, an awkward dance move to say the least, but Jill shook it.

“Jill Bernhardt.”

Cindy was cute, but cute wasn’t Jill’s type.  Still, they had a good time dancing and split a cab after the reporter boys had left.  Claire was still sitting at the table, nursing her drink.  Jill was pretty sure she was waiting for the cute bartender to get off.  Two hookups- she had been successful tonight.

She made sure Cindy was dropped off before her.  You didn’t want reporters knowing where you lived.

“I had a good time.”

“Me too.”  They hugged awkwardly and Cindy got out, giving her an odd glance that seemed a bit like regret.  Jill hoped it wasn’t regret that she hadn’t weaseled out more information about the ‘lawyer for the mob’ comment.  She really needed to learn how to shut her mouth.

*            *            *

Ten minutes after midnight Lori slid into the booth across from Claire and gave her a questioning look.

Claire pushed her glasses up her nose and looked hard at the woman, oddly familiar and yet unrecognizable, and prepared her statement.

“Look.  I’m not particularly interested in you… or… this.”  Claire wasn’t certain what she was implying with the ‘this,’ but Lori grinned, and she assumed some meaning had come through.  “But, I’ve been pressured to… experimentally validate a statement I made.  And if you’re not diseased, or planning anything… weird…”

“I have a fake cock I could fuck you with.”

Claire considered this for a moment and nodded.  “That sounds fine.”

A broad slow smile crossed the other woman’s face, and for a moment Claire felt like prey.  She pressed her knees together.

“I’ll get my jacket.”

Claire waited outside the back door by the dumpsters for her.  It felt like an appropriate place.  She was having second thoughts.  Lori came out and leaned against the wall next to her.

“Shouldn’t I tell you my name?”

“Don’t bother.  Let’s get this over with.”  Claire turned and started off.  Lori grabbed her wrist.  Claire couldn’t throw her off.  She was surprisingly strong. 

“Hold up.”

Claire turned on her, her mouth opening to curse her.  But the woman stepped into her, so close their hips brushed, and threaded her fingers through her hair.

“Aren’t you going to let me kiss you?”

“Here?”  Claire was ashamed of the quaver in her voice.

“Just a kiss.”  Their mouths met, and it felt like breathing again after suffocating.  Claire groaned internally.  Jill was going to gloat about this forever.

*            *            *