Fic: Belladonna Leaves
Fandom: Crossover - SPN and Leverage
Rating: Primetime television
Warning: Canon character death
1.
“You don’t want that one.”
“Oh, I think I do.”
“No, you got hired for this one.” She tossed it. Parker caught the orb from the air, but her eyes stayed on the skull. Bela grinned wihtout humor. “And that one takes special equipment.”
“It’s just a pressure plate with a nitrogen chamber. Not all that special.”
“As tempted as I am to let you remove yourself from the industry, I hate to waste potentially useful people.”
“So you are going to steal it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why shouldn’t I?”
“I have a buyer and I have a lead lined sack, which means I’ll live to get to my buyer. You want to leave now?”
The rope slithered up into the ceiling.
“That’s rather what I thought.”
2.
Parker sat on the park bench, thin as the bare trees around her. Bela smiled, unfolded her paper and sat next to her.
"You have to go away," Parker whispered.
"There's plenty of room for me here."
“No, you have to go away. I'm meeting someone.”
“Right, you are meeting someone about a job.”
“Yes, now go away.”
Bela rattled her paper and crossed her legs. She could feel Parker vibrate with anxiety and frustration.
“If you don't go away, my contact won't show.”
“Oh, I think she'll show.”
“You can't know that. Oh. You can know that.”
“Finally. Here's the deal.”
3.
Bela glanced back over her shoulder. “He’s too close.”
“This is all your fault.”
“Which is why I’m the one getting us out of it. Follow my lead.”
“Wha!Mmmph.”
The guard rounded the corner. “Excuse me, miss. Uh, and, uh, miss. Misses. Ma’ams. This is private property.”
“Oh, come on.” Bela purred, pitching her voice low and throaty. “The club’s too…”
The radio at his hip squawked and he murmured into it. Parker twitched. Bela couldn’t catch words.
The guard walked them to the door, then to the edge of the parking lot. He found the outer door she’d jimmied open an hour ago and left them to walk quickly back inside. She kept her arm over Parker’s shoulders as they walked back to edge of the fence.
“So what did he mean by ‘Lesbian lovebirds’?”
“Meant he and his little friends get fantasy fodder for their sordid imaginations and we are escorted off site rather than chased.”
“Because we let him catch us?”
“No, he was chasing thieves from the 12th floor. He found two women drunk from the club across the parking lot. Therefore, we weren’t the thieves he was chasing. Man-logic.”
“That’s a neat trick. I’ll have to remember that.”
“You do that. First, though, give me the feather back.”
“It’s worthless anyway.”
“So you won’t mind giving it to me.”
“Whatever.”
Bela tucked the feathered charm back into her pocket and watched Parker vault into the garage structure.
4.
Parker closed her phone thoughtfully. It wasn't as if she and Bela Talbot were friends, but it was unlike her to be so short on the telephone. Parker was curious. Even better, she was in the area.
She hung upside down outside the window of Bela's bedroom, and wondered what Bela had gotten mixed up in, and just how much blood one body could hold. A kick and a twist took her to the living room window and she let herself in. Enough of the breeze came in with her to raise a puff of gritty dust from the floor. Some kind of electronics had gone, because over the perfume from the flowers sagging in a vase, the air smelled burned, like a blown out match or the ozone crackle of a blown fuse box. Despite whatever had happened, the safe opened to her quickly enough and in it was a leather journal, a ledger with the names of Bela's buyers, and the locations of the goods they were interested in purchasing. On top of all of that was a folded notecard addressed to her. Everything was in Bela's elegant handwriting. Parker flipped open the card with one hand while dropping the notes into her bag with the other. The card read, "Stay away from the freaky stuff. Steal something normal and burn this book. Or not."
Parker stepped around the blood on the floor. She didn’t look at the body. She decided there was nothing in the apartment that she wanted and turned on the gas stove and laid the ledger on top of it. She was pragmatic, practical. She'd be up on the roof and over two buildings before there was any danger.
5.
Parker sat crosslegged and in sock feet in the middle of the pool table as Eliot banked shots around her. She looked around, happy if not smiling, since smiles were more difficult than anyone admitted and when she really tried to smile, Hardison got very nervous and Sophie went sad around the eyes. So she sat and she listened to the sharp clack of the balls as Eliot and his cue spiraled around her, and Nate grumbled to himself over something in the papers he had spread all over the couch, and Hardison set his glass bottle on his desk, nearly silent on the neoprene coaster.
Sophie called from the kitchen, “Alec? Are you busy?”
Hardison flicked between screens with his left hand and answered, “Nah, I’m running a codecracker that’s gonna take a second and the others are divvying up the loot. Nothing else is in real time.”
She came into the room. “Loot?”
“In the game, Sophie.”
“Oh, pictures of jewelry. Would you mind looking up someone for me?”
“Sure.” He turned to the keyboard and Sophie stood behind him. “What are we working with?”
“Two known aliases and a phone number that’s probably real.”
“Let’s start with that, then,” he said, and she started with forty four.
Parker said, “That’s the country code for England.”
Sophie smiled indulgently. “Remarkably, I knew that. Do you recognize the number?”
Parker shrugged. Numbers, names, faces. Who could keep track of them all? Why would anyone bother to?
Alec said “Hunh” and grabbed his soda. “Remember when I said I could track a ghost? I didn’t actually mean that literally. She killed off this alias and swept the trail clean. Let’s try the names.”
Sophie didn’t glance at the paper in her hand. “Do Bela Talbot first.”
Parker stood into a roundoff, vaulting off the table and over Eliot’s head to peer over Alec’s shoulder. Nate asked, “Who’s Bela Talbot?” but she could feel his eyes on her, not on Hardison. She glanced to the side where Sophie was watching her openly. Parker stepped up onto the chair’s base as Alec tried to roll it where she was standing. He twitched in surprise, but answered Nate. “A set of fake ids that starts in 1996 and ends in…,” he said and turned back to the keyboard.
Parker tipped her head to the side and said “2006. She died in 2006. She was a thief. ” She didn’t say ‘like me’ or ‘a ‘friend’ because she wasn’t dead and they hadn’t been friends. She put her hands on the back of the couch and pushed into a handstand. If they were going to look at her like that, she might as well give them something to watch.
Co-writer and beta credit both to beadslut who comes up with the very best of ideas.
Rating: Primetime television
Warning: Canon character death
1.
“You don’t want that one.”
“Oh, I think I do.”
“No, you got hired for this one.” She tossed it. Parker caught the orb from the air, but her eyes stayed on the skull. Bela grinned wihtout humor. “And that one takes special equipment.”
“It’s just a pressure plate with a nitrogen chamber. Not all that special.”
“As tempted as I am to let you remove yourself from the industry, I hate to waste potentially useful people.”
“So you are going to steal it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why shouldn’t I?”
“I have a buyer and I have a lead lined sack, which means I’ll live to get to my buyer. You want to leave now?”
The rope slithered up into the ceiling.
“That’s rather what I thought.”
2.
Parker sat on the park bench, thin as the bare trees around her. Bela smiled, unfolded her paper and sat next to her.
"You have to go away," Parker whispered.
"There's plenty of room for me here."
“No, you have to go away. I'm meeting someone.”
“Right, you are meeting someone about a job.”
“Yes, now go away.”
Bela rattled her paper and crossed her legs. She could feel Parker vibrate with anxiety and frustration.
“If you don't go away, my contact won't show.”
“Oh, I think she'll show.”
“You can't know that. Oh. You can know that.”
“Finally. Here's the deal.”
3.
Bela glanced back over her shoulder. “He’s too close.”
“This is all your fault.”
“Which is why I’m the one getting us out of it. Follow my lead.”
“Wha!Mmmph.”
The guard rounded the corner. “Excuse me, miss. Uh, and, uh, miss. Misses. Ma’ams. This is private property.”
“Oh, come on.” Bela purred, pitching her voice low and throaty. “The club’s too…”
The radio at his hip squawked and he murmured into it. Parker twitched. Bela couldn’t catch words.
The guard walked them to the door, then to the edge of the parking lot. He found the outer door she’d jimmied open an hour ago and left them to walk quickly back inside. She kept her arm over Parker’s shoulders as they walked back to edge of the fence.
“So what did he mean by ‘Lesbian lovebirds’?”
“Meant he and his little friends get fantasy fodder for their sordid imaginations and we are escorted off site rather than chased.”
“Because we let him catch us?”
“No, he was chasing thieves from the 12th floor. He found two women drunk from the club across the parking lot. Therefore, we weren’t the thieves he was chasing. Man-logic.”
“That’s a neat trick. I’ll have to remember that.”
“You do that. First, though, give me the feather back.”
“It’s worthless anyway.”
“So you won’t mind giving it to me.”
“Whatever.”
Bela tucked the feathered charm back into her pocket and watched Parker vault into the garage structure.
4.
Parker closed her phone thoughtfully. It wasn't as if she and Bela Talbot were friends, but it was unlike her to be so short on the telephone. Parker was curious. Even better, she was in the area.
She hung upside down outside the window of Bela's bedroom, and wondered what Bela had gotten mixed up in, and just how much blood one body could hold. A kick and a twist took her to the living room window and she let herself in. Enough of the breeze came in with her to raise a puff of gritty dust from the floor. Some kind of electronics had gone, because over the perfume from the flowers sagging in a vase, the air smelled burned, like a blown out match or the ozone crackle of a blown fuse box. Despite whatever had happened, the safe opened to her quickly enough and in it was a leather journal, a ledger with the names of Bela's buyers, and the locations of the goods they were interested in purchasing. On top of all of that was a folded notecard addressed to her. Everything was in Bela's elegant handwriting. Parker flipped open the card with one hand while dropping the notes into her bag with the other. The card read, "Stay away from the freaky stuff. Steal something normal and burn this book. Or not."
Parker stepped around the blood on the floor. She didn’t look at the body. She decided there was nothing in the apartment that she wanted and turned on the gas stove and laid the ledger on top of it. She was pragmatic, practical. She'd be up on the roof and over two buildings before there was any danger.
5.
Parker sat crosslegged and in sock feet in the middle of the pool table as Eliot banked shots around her. She looked around, happy if not smiling, since smiles were more difficult than anyone admitted and when she really tried to smile, Hardison got very nervous and Sophie went sad around the eyes. So she sat and she listened to the sharp clack of the balls as Eliot and his cue spiraled around her, and Nate grumbled to himself over something in the papers he had spread all over the couch, and Hardison set his glass bottle on his desk, nearly silent on the neoprene coaster.
Sophie called from the kitchen, “Alec? Are you busy?”
Hardison flicked between screens with his left hand and answered, “Nah, I’m running a codecracker that’s gonna take a second and the others are divvying up the loot. Nothing else is in real time.”
She came into the room. “Loot?”
“In the game, Sophie.”
“Oh, pictures of jewelry. Would you mind looking up someone for me?”
“Sure.” He turned to the keyboard and Sophie stood behind him. “What are we working with?”
“Two known aliases and a phone number that’s probably real.”
“Let’s start with that, then,” he said, and she started with forty four.
Parker said, “That’s the country code for England.”
Sophie smiled indulgently. “Remarkably, I knew that. Do you recognize the number?”
Parker shrugged. Numbers, names, faces. Who could keep track of them all? Why would anyone bother to?
Alec said “Hunh” and grabbed his soda. “Remember when I said I could track a ghost? I didn’t actually mean that literally. She killed off this alias and swept the trail clean. Let’s try the names.”
Sophie didn’t glance at the paper in her hand. “Do Bela Talbot first.”
Parker stood into a roundoff, vaulting off the table and over Eliot’s head to peer over Alec’s shoulder. Nate asked, “Who’s Bela Talbot?” but she could feel his eyes on her, not on Hardison. She glanced to the side where Sophie was watching her openly. Parker stepped up onto the chair’s base as Alec tried to roll it where she was standing. He twitched in surprise, but answered Nate. “A set of fake ids that starts in 1996 and ends in…,” he said and turned back to the keyboard.
Parker tipped her head to the side and said “2006. She died in 2006. She was a thief. ” She didn’t say ‘like me’ or ‘a ‘friend’ because she wasn’t dead and they hadn’t been friends. She put her hands on the back of the couch and pushed into a handstand. If they were going to look at her like that, she might as well give them something to watch.
Co-writer and beta credit both to beadslut who comes up with the very best of ideas.