noteasytobepink | Ah, those phonecalls ~ AU Bill/Clarice

Ah, those phonecalls ~ AU Bill/Clarice

It had been a few days since his new patient appeared. Appeared being the operative term since Bill and the girl both had filled him in. On one hand, he was an old man and he didn't like the world getting set on it's ear so much. On the other, well, he'd always believed there was more out there, enjoyed X-files shamelessly when it was airing, and felt that Clarice was an excellent opportunity to observe alternate biology pathways.

Plus she was a cheerful, if bad patient.

It was the second part that had him on the phone to Bill.

Well, Bill's answering machine. "Bill, it's Dr. Mitchell. I nearly have all the proper paperwork done boy, and certainly not too soon. She's one of those type you know? Needs to be doing something. I nearly had to tie her arm to her side to keep her form doing arm exercises. As if she'd lose muscle mass that quickly! And the room, don't get me started on her cleaning, and moving, and sneaking off to read to the kids in pediatrics..." No, don't get him started.

"....who think she's a fairy by the way. I guess this is a roundabout way of asking if you've found anyone with a hunting cabin she can hole up in yet."

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It was a purely natural defense mechanism! Nature was kind to her!

"And you probably look better un-gnawed." She grinned then reached out to poke what she was pretty sure was rust there on his truck. "Picky truck or just rabidly territorial?"

"I am not rabid," he denied, even as he shooed her hand away from its poking.

"She's a bit touchy, is all."

And he was a bit (read: a lot) protective.

"Oh, wait, hint of fang there..." she teased, obviously contemplating poking again, though eventually deciding against it. "She? Why is it everyone who actually likes vehicles assumes they're girls?"

Waiting to see what she's going to do, he gets into the drivers seat when she leaves the rust alone.

Looking over at her, Bill arched a brow.

"Doesn't she seem like a lady?"

Starting the truck, Bill snorted.

"An' unlike some of those idiots drivin' around out there, my truck doesn't have nuts."

"Looks like a truck, Bill. Plus you have to have nuts, they help hold your truck together." Just because she didn't drive and didn't really care didn't mean she hadn't help strip a vehicle or two for parts later!

"Maybe an old battleaxe?" Yes, she was half expecting ejector seats.

"I meant-- forget it. You obviously don't understand the value of a good machine."

He shook his head like this was a great shame.

"An' there's nothin' this truck needs that she don't already got."

That includes axes and ejector seats.

"I meant it could maybe be a woman if she were considered an old battleaxe." She stuck her tongue out cheerfully and cranked down her window so the breeze could flow in. Mmm, breeze. "Like an aged, and might valkyrie. A Brunhilde of mighty, aging, female wrath." Stories she knew.

"I prefer to be my own machine."

"My truck is not an' old battleaxe."

His truck isn't old. She's... well aged.

"You say it like that an' it makes me think of that fat chick with the horn hat in that Bugs Bunny cartoon."

"The who with the what now? Bunny?" Morph may have done an impression of Bugs Bunny once. He didn't mention who he was suppose to be though (besides a giant rabbit).

"Bugs Bunny. Looney Tunes?"

Bill glanced over at her.

"Y'don't know Bugs Bunny?"

"No, no I don't. Sorry." Seemed she'd have to do some studying to be a part of this world. "Television I take it then? Usually it's television that trips me up."

"Yeah. It's a cartoon."

He needed to remember she came from a totally different world. But at least she knew about tv.

"Anyways, my truck ain't a fat viking lady." That was the point of all of this, right?

"Valkyries aren't fat. They're warriors. They may be scarred, but not fat." It just didn't work really, at all. "You learn lore from cartoons? How can that be accurate?"

"I-- "

Bill searched for an intelligent answer, but none came so he went with the truth.

"Cartoons make it a lot more interestin' than the books."

You never see rabbits dress in drag and sing opera in the history books.

"...and when you meet a Valkyrie in person how do you cope?" Simple question! Why yes, Norse pantheons were INCREDIBLY active on some worlds! "Choosers of the slain, announcers of heroism and worth. Mr. Creed told one to 'Fuck Off' once since he wasn't the sort to die."

"We don't have Valkyries... "

At least, Bill's never met one. Or heard of any running around.

"Did uh... did you, where you come from?"

"...huh." Weird world.

She blinked at him, then smiled. "Yeah. Apocalypse, on my world, tried to establish himself as a God. The Norse pantheon wasn't exactly thrilled with it, but not too worried since he wasn't really a god? I'm not exactly sure how that shakes down. One thing the world did create a lot of was heroes, which meant Valkyries were often seen on the mortal plane."

There was a whole lot in what she just said that Bill didn't understand.

Making a turn, Bill cleared his throat.

"You're world sounds pretty... well kinda crazy. It's probably best if you don't bring up that kinda stuff with other folks. We really don't have any of that kind of stuff here."

"It was crazy, it's why it doesn't exist anymore." She admitted that simply, like one would admit it was sunny, or that yesterday couldn't be relived. "Only with you then huh? What am I suppose to talk about then?"

"Yeah, an' Dr. Mitchell might wanna hear about it."

Dr. Mitchell was into all that sci-fi stuff.

"Well, we'll help you figure out this place. Ask other people 'bout themselves, most folks here are happy t'go on an' on."

"I have the vague suspicion that Dr. Mitchell may be planning to write a book, or paper or something about things I tell him." She huffed and thunked her chin on her fist. "He listens...too well." Avidly, attentively, and with notes.

"He may think I'm messed up. I'll do the asking people questions thing though. We'll start with you Bill...why are you doing all this?"

"He's probably just tryin' to write the next X-Files movie."

Bill threw her a smile, then looked back at the road.

His eyes cut to her in a quick glance at her question, and he focused on making another turn.

"I'm not one of those chatty people." He gave a short chuckle, then a partial shrug.

"Because... it's my job, an' because I can. Y'know, I try an' help folks out, an' you needed a hand, an' I could give it so... so, here we are."

And they were here, as he pulled into the driveway of his small house.

It was a nice place; gravel drive, porch up front, and a big live oak in the yard.

"I'm not sure I want my life on television." She wasn't one for Hollywood fame?

"And you're chatty enough with me, else I'd have gone crazy in the hospital. I just had to wait until your visits." Doom doom doom? "You've absolutely no reason to help a random stranger who appeared with a crazy reality skipping story Bill. Not saying I'm not grateful, but still, it does beg the question doesn't it? It's okay if you don't have a reason though, that happens sometimes."

Ooooo, nice house. And a tree she'd no doubt be climbing!

"Yeah, I don't blame you."

Bill wasn't too keen on the whole spotlight and fame thing, either.

Pulling the key from the ignition, Bill got down and rounded the truck to get her door and try and help with the things she had to carry.

"What if it's just 'cause I'm a nice guy?" He liked to believe that answer was good enough.

"In many worlds nice just means 'Naive' or 'Slow', terms I don't think apply to you." She chuckled and slid down from the truck once he had her door open, the duffel already swinging to rest on her good shoulder.

"Do you think it's just because you're a nice guy?"

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