noteasytobepink | Canon AU ~ Clarice and Bill beginning

Canon AU ~ Clarice and Bill beginning

Owwwwwwww...

There was a flash of magenta light and the shadow of a woman flying through the air at a rather high speed. What world had it been? 739? Mutants Everywhere Planet, let's stop a serial killer because the Talus said so planet.

A super powered serial killer who had been rather hard to hit, much less hurt, especially with the team down several members. She'd been able to create an opening, at cost, for the others to take, but now, well, she was bleeding. And dizzy. And oh, that was a knife in her shoulder, huh, what if teh cops had needed that for evidence..

...right back on track. The talus had flashed, they'd been getting ready to leave and the partner, the killers partner that the Talus had told them NOTHING about had come careening in with a scream. Her lower arm ached, dully. and trailed more blood from where she'd lost the Talus. It had been ripped away and she'd been shoved through a half-formed portal. Not a fun ride.

By the time she tumbled to a halt she couldn't tell left from right, much less what world she was on. There could have been snipers in the trees and giant mutant snakes rearing to strike at her and she'd have just said 'Wha?'. She was...hitched up against a tree. Nice tree, yeah, she was going to...pass out now.

Yep.

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"Kree? Skrull?" Apparently these were the two big bads in space aliens she was most worried about? Galactus, after all, was too big for a little home town to handle and the Shi'ar would still be very, very evident.

"Oh, wait, do you mean invaded and landed more like Normandy? Foreign invaders but not alien?" She...should have thought of that possibility first. Duh.

Bill blinked at her reaction and the names she gave, then shook his head.

"Slugs. Aliens. Do you-- have you dealt with stuff like that?"

"....huh." Yep, slugs were a new one on her? "No shapeshifting? No sudden and brutal need to rule over you? No raining fire from the sky and setting people on each other in arena combat for their amusement?" Yeeeah, she hadn't liked that world. At all.

It left scars.

"Slugs." Damn. "Fill me in. They had to be a little more scary than I'm imagining right? Not exactly the salt them and they die type." Because she didn't think Bill would exaggerate the scary danger part?

For a moment he thought she wasn't taking him serious, her questions and what they suggested so off the wall she had to be joking.

When he realized she was serious he wondered just exactly what kind of screwed up place she came from.

"They infected people, changed 'em into... into monsters."

Zombies, but he really hated to use that word.

Shaking his head, he stood up and went to retrieve his coffee.

"Tried takin' over the town, an' did a lot of damage."

He hated talking about that night, and with his back to her he tried to shake the memories as he also tried swallowing the cold sludge in his cup.

"Anyways, it's all over with, so y'don't gotta worry 'bout it. Just be aware some folks are still sensitive, an' most don't really like bringin' it up."

Ugh. Taking people over. Never a good way to go. Ever. "Infectious parasite type?" Ew ew ew. "Hive mind I take it? Something that could coordinate?" Because one couldn't normally stuff enough brains for independent thought in something like a slug.

"How long ago?" Better to know. And even more importantly..."Any likelihood of return? Should I keep an eye out for them?" Because...true monsters rarely stayed dead.

Especially infectious kinds.

"Yeah. Took out the center of it all an' that stopped it."

There was a phantom ache in his gut, and he smoothed his hand over his stomach where there was now a scar.

"Happened a couple years ago. They ain't comin' back."

He said it with conviction, as if his words alone would make it true.

"You got a plan just in case?" She said it with the tired practicality of someone who had been fighting, one way or another, since she was little. "If you do, factor in anything I can do teleport wise." Because if there was a powerful tool available, it HAD to be used in emergency situations.

"You took it out?" And...yep, she was tilting her head, watching him rub his belly. He'd been tagged, hurt doing it. Maybe he understood a bit more about her taking that knife than she'd thought. Well then. "Good job."

He sees her eyes on his hand and drops it, tugging his uniform straight.

"There is no 'in case', the man's dead, the slugs are gone, an' we've moved on."

He sets his coffee back down again, disgusted with it, and retakes his seat.

"I did my job."

Above and beyond, but he doesn't like taking so much credit, especially when he thinks about all that was lost that night.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Sheriff, but part of the JOB of law enforcement is to plan for worst case scenarios. In case. Because people NEED to be protected. Assuming something and not planning for it ALWAYS comes back to bite you in the ass. Always." Take it from a veteran adventurer? She lifted the little plastic pitcher of water on her bedside table, offering it to him as a substitute for crappy coffee.

"I have more scars than I care to count anymore, most of them from things I thought were dead. You, and people like me, have to be smarter than that, bite the damn bullet, and think about bad things so others don't have to." That said she sighed. "Granted, I always end up in life and death situations and it may have made me paranoid."

Bill's jaw tightened, and Clarice just crossed a line Bill was very defensive about.

Straightening up in his seat, he managed to rein in most of his temper, but there was still an edge to his voice when he responded.

"Look, I can see you're tryin' to be useful here, but I don't need anyone tellin' me how t'run my town. I know my job, I've been doin' it my full grown life, an' you better believe I can handle it."

Standing up, he grabs his chair and moves it back to its place across the room.

"The day I wake up on the side of the road with a blade stickin' out of me is the day you get t'tell me I'm not smart enough for what I'm doin'."

Snatching his cup up, he heads for the door.

"I'm gonna get some more coffee, don't go anywhere."

Way to go Clarice, always good with local law enforcement.

Wonderful.

"I lost my best friend because we thought the scientist was dead. I lived, he didn't. And everything was suppose to be okay after the bad guy died. I get touchy and I'm sorry." It was...better, for her, yes, Mr. Creed found her in the rubble. Still. Not planning got people dead.

Very dead.

"No where to go, sir. No one to help, no one to keep alive." She watched him storm out and slipped from the bed so she could at least poke around the room and see what it had to offer. That and...peer out the window in case she needed to port out quickly given her stellar people skills. Gah, hospital gown. Easy to move in yes...but a little cold.

He didn't give a reaction to her words, but he heard them.

Out in the hallway, after the door was closed, he shook his head at himself and scrubbed a hand over his face.

Wasn't he turning out to be a great welcome committee?

Looking down at the cup in his hand, he headed off to go find a refill for it.

When he returned it was with a tray. With help from a nurse he was able to put a small meal together, and then he sent her off to tell Dr. Mitchell Clarice was awake, while Bill took the food back to Clarice himself.

Walking through the door, he tried not to look as awkward as he felt. He set the tray with a sandwich, some fruit juice, and the prerequisite jello on it near her bed.

Clearing his throat, he gestured at it.

"Thought y'might be hungry."

"No, thank you sir." She was...leaning against the window and looking outside. This was because, like any incredibly driven hero she'd needed to move and...ran out of energy to get herself back to bed but HELL IF SHE"D ADMIT IT. "Drugs and I don't get along well. I've got something in me now, probably pain killers and antibiotics given it's a hospital, but trying to eat would make me...worse." Queasy, panicky, such.

"Thank you for the thought though. Did you get your coffee? I never did manage to like that stuff..."

"You c'n-- " He was about to say she could call him Bill, but figured he'd probably already ruined that. Making the offer and having her choose not to would just make this whole thing worse than it was.

Instead, he took notice of the way she was standing.

Tilting his head and studying her, he took one step forwards, then stopped.

"Are you alright?"

"Given the circumstances that's almost a rhetorical question isn't it?" She turned her head to flash him a wry smile. And a nice way to dodge saying 'no'.

"It's pretty here. I get so jealous of places like this some times. Quiet, and green, and still."

He backed off, but kept an eye on her, almost sure she needed a hand or something.

"It's real pretty here. Wheelsy's a nice place, gotta lot of nice folks livin' an' workin' here, an' all the green an' quiet you can handle."

He spoke with pride for his home town; looking past Clarice to take in the small town himself.

Logically she knew this kind of place, this kind of town, would bore her to tear soon. She wasn't meant for holding still or taking it easy. For now though the pause to take in the scenery and life here was...justifiable. She was injured. That meant at least a little down time.

And...making her way back slowly to the bed. Yep. Stubborn woman.

"I'm seeing that. And your trees are friendly and supportive of strangers. So...where should I say I'm from if I'm staying here?"

Again he took a step closer, but wasn't going to help unless she really needed.

(He knew a thing or two about being stubborn.)

Retaking his seat, he scratched at the stubble forming on his jaw and shook his head.

"We'll figure all that out in a bit. Y'ain't leavin' yet, so we've got some time."

He was already running through a list of things that would have to be done to make this work, and not liking half of it.

"We're gonna have to bring the doc in on this. He's gonna have to help me with records an' all."

A stabbing couldn't go unreported, but it's hard to fill in the sheet when the victim doesn't technically exist in this world.

"Does this...country..." yes, she'd been getting ready to say World instead, "...do naturalization tests? Should I get a pamphlet or something?" She was going to cooperate to the best of her ability! Honest!

Especially given she didn't know how long she'd be here. If she disappeared in the morning, hey, no harm no foul, but if she was stranded here for years, well, she didn't want to be a problem.

Not that the 'town secret' was much better but hey, it lacked the torch and pitchfork quality so it was awesome! "I can do tests. Do I need a permit for my quiver?"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't carry that thing around," he said, starting with the question about the quiver. He was actually on the fence about giving it back, but that decision could wait.

"You could get naturalized, I'm sure. I just... don't know a whole lot about the process. I'll find out for sure, an' maybe your team'll show up before we gotta really worry about that."

He was sure it wouldn't be an easy thing to do, especially if she didn't have a country of origin to start with. Mostly, though he was hoping she wasn't stranded completely. He knew if he was in her place he'd want to get home as soon as possible.

"Canada. My adopted father was from Canada, before countries dissolved." She offered that in case it helped? "And I promised not to carry it in town, I do want to keep it where ever I end up living though and I don't know this worlds weapon policy. For all I know only enforcement types are allowed anything." Because in more controlled realities it was exactly that. Illegal for standard citizens to own weaponry.

Those worlds were generally hit or miss on the 'likability' scale.

She finally reached her bed properly again and crawl into it, settling back on the mattress with a sigh. "This is going to be 'fun' isn't it? In that way where we grit our teeth a lot as we fay the word. As for my team...they go where they are needed, they have things to do. If they're lucky, and fix things right, they have worlds and lives to go back to. I don't, so it's low priority. You aren't likely to get more visitors soon."

Countries dissolving, strict rules on who gets to have what, Bill's not so sure it's a bad thing she's ended up here after all.

"You c'n have 'em back, just so long as you don't go struttin' through town with 'em, or huntin' without a license." The last part was sort of a joke, and he cracked a small, quick smile after saying it.

He relaxed some when she laid back down after sitting tense and ready to go over and help her if she needed it.

"I wasn't too worried, 'bout visitors. I was more thinkin' about you, an' havin' to be gone from home too long."

"Good. My father made that quiver." She'd held onto it despite it all. "All I've got of Mr. Creed now. He stayed on a world to help some kids that needed it." And how that had hurt too, but in a good way. A proud way. "And...I only hunt if there's no other source of food. I hate having to waste what I can't eat and I can't salt or smoke for beans. If I can't get a grocery store or freezer, then well..." Then they weren't nearly as civilized here as she thought?

Given the heart rate monitor machine she'd unplugged though, she was probably fine on tech level.

"I...don't. Have a home. Some worlds just...end. I was on the team because there was no where else to go and there needed to be someone in the team who was constant."

"I was kiddin' 'bout the hunting thing," he said quietly.

Hearing about her father, and her world, Bill felt like he'd stuck his foot in his mouth right good. This certainly wasn't his best first impression ever.

"When you're feelin' better I'll show you around town. It's small, but we outta have everything you need."

He didn't know what to say about her not really having a home. He thought about suggesting maybe here is where she'd find one, but decided he better not, and just let it go.

"Oh good. I hate paperwork anyway, so licenses are a pain." In any world, license meant paperwork. PAPERWORK. Best part of being a vigilante was the distinct lack thereof.

"Also, it may shock you, but I never learned to drive either. I hope this town is walkable." She glossed over the quiet parts. The possible pain and awkwardness. They didn't matter. Not really.

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