(no title) (original) (raw)

Title: Time Out of Mind
Fandom: LXG
Characters: Brigitte Fitzgerald; Mina Harker; Beatrix Kiddo; Ash ; Seth Gecko; Warlock; Hannibal Lector; Carrie White; Charlie McGee; Frank Dux; Shaun
Rating: PG-13
Summary: While the American Secret Service may have crumbled from religious superstition and fear, Britain's Shadow Parliament has never faltered in it's protection of crown and country from any infernal force. Now it needs one of their 'undesirables' to come back and finish a job she started.
Disclaimer: I own very little in this world.
Author's Notes: This is LXG revamped. . .no pun intended. I have a feeling that it's going to be longer than the initial intended comment fic, that came about from a lovely journal demanding more stories to star women, Mary-Sue or not—in fact, to be proud of our ladies that can do everything, be attractive, and kick ass while doing everything. Just like all the male characters we love. In any event, this was supposed to be a Mina-centric tale yet I found that I needed the framing device of another female to make it work. Shout out to Pride & Prejudice & Zombies! And yeah, it totally ties-in with my other League fiction.

1

She had finally stopped examining how they had tracked her down in that lone shack—(Brigitte wouldn't give that pile of lumber more credit than it deserved)—in lower Pennsylvania. Barbed wired and signs had diverted all but the most desperate or sickening of the human populace, only three transients having disappeared in the five months since the werewolf had settled in for the winter. She had been prepared for several eventualities: other werewolves obviously; psycho prepubescent girls that had haunted her dreams for over a decade; Pam. So when the model-tall blond with a sword and the fire producing redhead arrived with the spring thaw, Brigitte Fitzgerald was knocked off kilter to say the least. Like a stalker they had timed their arrival with her latest dosing, leaving her no energy to chase them off her property; they stayed to explain there was another life out there for her—not so much better or even safer than her present situation, but a life where she could use her abilities to help others and not have to keep looking over her shoulder for lone males that wanted to procreate. After a brief discussion they carted her intoxicated ass off on a private plane set for jolly old England. But she had finally stopped examining the 'how' and was currently giving eagle-eyed focus to the 'why'.

The armoured van moved surprisingly smoothly along the narrow side road, night having settled heavily in this little traversed section of Derbyshire. ("No one lingers there any longer," the creepy doctor who had been introduced as the brains of the operation tried to explain. "You see Brigitte, over two hundred years ago there was a rather interesting occurrence. Speak with Shaun—" the short balding Englishman who thought he was funny. "Apparently it is a cycle in which these Brits have become accustomed.") The blond, Kiddo, drove with an easy confidence, her skin-tight ensemble covering more than it exposed on her thin frame. The vampire slayer—and Brigitte had never thought she'd say that in a real life situation—sat shotgun, appearing bored, but the werewolf knew better; the short, raven black hairs on the back of her neck were up and Seth Gecko was on edge, smelled of it.

"The turn-off's coming up, sweet cheeks."

"I'll have no qualms in relieving you of that other burdensome hand, Ash."

The muscled, one-handed engineer, with a deep chin cleft and chainsaw, ("Who carries a fucking chainsaw?" "Ask all the bodies I've left behind, baby."), had done nothing but flirt and annoy since they'd left the immeasurably large underground facility beneath the British Museum, and while Beatrix seemed to take it all with quiet good humour B had no doubt the blond could and would use that Hanzo sword with extreme efficiency—not that the born and bred Prairie woman knew anything about Hattori Hanzo, but it damn well was a source of vicious argument between Kiddo and Dr. Lector. Brigitte remained silent in the seat behind Seth. They had given her a gun and a few lessons on how to use it, but she felt more like a sacrificial lamb compared to the other three: sword and chainsaw notwithstanding, the tattooed slayer was armed to the teeth. Belts of bullets filled with holy water and silver—("I don't take chances with my own neck")—all attached to two automatic hand-helds that he treated better than he would children. For all her twenty six years of non-maternal living, Brigitte hoped the man didn't have any kids. They didn't expect her to have to use it though. Lector expected her to Change.

Brigitte had long-ago learned that her monkshood was no cure. When the full moon rose and the wolf wanted out, there was no stopping it; all she could do was lock herself into the cold cellar—a necessity of any property she acquired—and hope for the best. The monkshood was a deterrent for any protracted urges. It was a comfort. But the idea that B could Change at the drop of a hat, like some circus act, was insulting not only to the years she'd lived in solitude but to herself as a human being. ("My dear, you are not a human being. Why is it that so many refuse to embrace the monster within when it will grant such advantages." Both she and redheaded Charlie shared brief knowing looks at that non-question.) And why a werewolf was important in catching a vampire no one would explain.

The Pemberly estate was a poorly kept construct of columns and timbre. As the foursome left the van and looked up at the three stories B was hit with the thought that no self-respecting vampire would hide out in this shit hole, but Seth was already moving forward and there was no time to debate the personal tastes of the undead. The vampire they were searching for was old but reportedly immobile.

"Doc's notes say she's ensand—ensoon—"

"Ensanguinated," Brigitte offered bluntly, resting a palm against what once must have been an elaborately decorated entranceway, now dotted with mould and other substances. "It means she doesn't have any blood in her." B rolled her eyes at the older man's expression. "I read, jackass. Get over yourself." Kiddo was already searching the main level, her stealth useless fighting against their echoing voices and Ash's heavy step. Brigitte would have felt sorry for the woman if she hadn't kidnapped her.

"Whatever ladies," Ash hauled a threadbare curtain off it's rod, coughing as an explosion of dust rained down upon him and waving his one flesh hand in front of his face. B backed up, wondering if there could be any asbestos involved. "Are we looking for a skin sack or a skeleton?" Seth snorted.

"Could be a bit of both. Vampires aren't pretty."

Brigitte didn't say anything to this, having learned from Charlie that Seth had lost his brother to a vampire set-up years ago. ("He'll bring it up to argue a point and make you look like an idiot," the redhead had spoken with equal parts sympathy and irritation. "It's a sore spot for him; just try to remember that he's really good at staying alive.") That assumption was put into question when the slayer kicked open a large double set of doors, guns drawn and apparently looking for a fight.

"Are you insane?!" Brigitte's voice hissed across the filthy marble floors and particulate-filled air. Was she the only one to have ever watched a horror movie? Forget the vampire for just one fucking second, with all the noise they were making they were bound to attract all sorts of other creatures she had only recently learned actually existed. She was the damn noob here! Her jeans were suddenly too tight, her coat too heavy, and all B wanted to do was run, her flight or fight response spiking. It was impossible though. They had implanted a tracking device. Somewhere. "She won't be up here anyway. It's the basement. It's always the basement."

"Agreed." Kiddo's succinct tone cut, all eyes turning to where she stood down one hall beside a nondescript servant's door, sword drawn and pointed towards a bundle that, on closer inspection, was a combination of dust bunny and bones. Rat bones. Brigitte could see a trail coming from the foyer now that she was paying attention. "Seth?"

"You and Ash stay up here in case of ghouls—"

"Ghouls?"

"Puppy here and I'll go down to find sleeping beauty."

Brigitte gifted the smirking man with a glare that showed she'd love nothing more than to shove him down the dark winding staircase, until she realized that Ash and Kiddo were watching her with similar expressions.

"Fuck you," she muttered. "As far as I'm concerned I'm the most trustworthy person here." That seemed to break the tension, Kiddo's mouth curving in an understanding smile. For a woman who had never quite grown into her nose it only enforced B's first thoughts about the League, that for a secret international government body it was chock full of pretty white people with problems.

"What if there's a coffin?" Ash scratched his head with his metal wrist cuff. There were grooves where his chainsaw or various other paraphernalia could attach. "Or this bloodsucker is eight hundred pounds? How are you getting her up?"

"I think we'll manage," Seth accepted a flashlight from the other man and shone it down into the darkness, the yellow light waving back and forth and illuminating unusually wide steps but not much else. His tanned visage turned to her sallow one, mocking. "New girl's stronger than she looks. Ain't that right Brigitte."

"Start walking asshole." She cocked her chin towards the possible abyss—and from Ash's abundant tales of demons it could well be an abode of the damned—knowing that if she took offence at everything the bastard said she would never hear the end of it. They passed the first ten steps with Ash's warning following after. Deadites. Who the hell named these things?