Time Out of Mind (2/?) (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. And yeah, it totally ties-in with my other League fiction. Shout-out to Buffy in this part.

2

"Is this part of the initiation or will there actually come a time when someone will tell me what the hell is going on?" Brigitte extracted a string of cobwebs that had snagged onto her long lank black tresses, the dust and residue disturbed by Seth's and her movement after what must have been decades of absolute stillness. She wasn't unclean, far from it; sometimes a good wash was all that kept her sane, waking up with blood in mouth and under her nails and no memory of the night before. But up-dos didn't cover pointed ears or curtain eyes that changed colour on a whim. As with her monkshood, B liked her security blankets.

"What's to tell?" Seth was moving cautiously but steadily forward. Unlike Ash or even his own display upstairs, Seth's steps were sure but silent. He wasn't turning his head around to talk or distracting himself with thoughts of how many spiders may take offence to their unannounced intrusion. Brigitte didn't feel distracted. She felt like kicking someone. "You were there for Lector's lecture." B pretended she hadn't heard that. No way this man was that witty.

"I meant the organization, you dick. Shadow Parliament. The League." Though her voice was low, almost spoken into her chest from trying to watch the steps and her footing, the tone spoke of exactly what she thought of them. "Where did they come from? And how does that creep know so much about—"

"You?"

Brigitte grimaced and Seth chuckled. "He is a creep, I'll give you that. Before I signed on for this job I thought he was trying to pick me up."

"Think a lot of yourself don't you."

"I don't have to tell you anything, bitch."

Brigitte bit her tongue and after a moment Seth continued. "If I hadn't seen what he was talking about, hadn't already know that fucking vampires existed and were making a great profit with sex and alcohol—"

"What?"

"But like you said, I only trust one person. Me." They had literally reached the ground floor, packed rock and sand showing up under the flashlight's yellow beam, travelling down one long enclosed brick hallway rather than opening up into a wide cellar like B had expected. It was freezing down here! Seth cursed under his breath, said something about shovels and sticking them up the Doctor's ass—all of which Brigitte heard—then moved inexorably forward. "You see something move, you get that skinny ass of yours back up those stairs. Anyways, so I ask him. . ."

("My interest started like most stories." Dr. Lector had brewed himself a cup of tea while Seth waited for coffee and a steak, the high inner walls of the secret British Museum blinding white and silver and chasing away all shadows. "I happened to meet a stranger in a strange land. Venice. Have you ever been, Mr. Gecko?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Italy is such a lovely country. I wouldn't be incorrect in seeing an Italian heritage in your face." A tray was set on the table and Seth purposely picked up the serrated blade.

"Let's have less talk about me Doc, and a bit more about this so-called research you do here." The Doctor's smile was oily, and with those cold eyes on him Seth couldn't help the feeling of being flayed out, as if Lector was trying to mentally dissect him. He should have stared the older man down. But he turned to his meat instead.

"Of course. That temper must have served you well in your previous profession." There was a light clink of fine china to accompany the scrape of Seth's knife on the dishwasher safe plate. "As I was saying, I met a man. I always believed he was travelling in order to forget a woman—his daughter, a lover, it was never clear; he was very depressed you see, but philosophical, talking of universes to be found inside a physical form, of the nature of good and evil, and, as our conversations progressed, certain mythological creatures as well."

"Vampires ain't a myth," Seth chewed and spoke at the same time, getting the impression that the Doctor was amused by this breach of etiquette. Like a zookeeper with a chimpanzee. Fucking fag.

"But unlike myself, Mr Gecko, you have the astonishing advantage of personal experience in that particular debate." Lector sipped his tea. "Most mere mortals can only live on simple faith. Now as I was saying, this Englishman—a Rupert Giles, quite the ripper once he had a few drinks in him—spoke to me of vampires and werewolves, ectoplasmic visions and various beings of primitive lore. Not in the metaphorical sense I assure you, I am very intuitive to the use of metaphor—but rather this man fully believed these creatures to be, in one sense or the other, living entities in this world. Like many dabblers in the occult he had a library of books to assert his opinion, the most glorious collection of literature. Do you read, Mr. Gecko?"

"I can read."

"I didn't ask

can you, I asked do you." Seth sat back, running his tongue along his bottom teeth to stave off retaliation when every nerve was telling him to shove a fork into the smug prick's face, only to notice annoyance in Lector's expression for the first time. "Let me be clear: I do not appreciate being misunderstood.")

"Fuck, that man can talk." They had reached the end of the of the hall, Seth's steps having slowed to the point that Brigitte simply leaned against the brick wall and gently tapped her filed fingernails over the ravaged stone. Nothing had climbed it's way out of the dirt so far. In B's experience it was only in movies that the boogeyman took this long to kill you. The door was less than two feet away and, unlike the rest of the crumbling manor, appeared strong and whole. No lock. No handle either. "You claustrophobic?" Brigitte rolled her eyes.

"So what happened to that Giles guy?"

"No fucking clue," Seth examined the archway leaving B in the pitch black, and, as with the door, it was solid hardwood but one could only imagine how thick. "Doc implied Giles' own people got rid of him but I don't think he gave two shits about that. It was the books he wanted, the information."

"Books?" Brigitte immediately cursed how interested she really sounded and the chuckle that meant the older man had heard it too. He was testing his foot against the jamb though and B only had a moment to cover her face before he was once again kicking in a door. "Christ, did you skip out on secret agent training? Because you suck at this covert operations shit!"

"Did I say you could speak, puppy?"

"I do have a gun." She knew she was being ignored when Seth automatically stepped into the small, silent, unadorned room.

"Ten minutes tops. I wanna get this bloodsucker and get the hell out."

Something about this Infiltration 101 didn't sit well with the werewolf. The house was as sinister as one could get but it had been someone's home, and if this. . .vampire had locked herself away, for whatever reason, who were they to disturb her? That is, if there was anything more than dust left.

CRACK!

Brigitte refused to admit she had jumped, but at least the lessons had sunk in and the gun was in her hand.

"What the hell was that?!"

"A femur. I think."

B opened her mouth, closed it, then carefully put the gun away. He had found the bitch's bed. Now he had to clean it.