Pete, Amanda - backdated

[xp_daytripper]

Cue the wayback machine - Pete, Amanda, a pub and a lot of chat. Bonding of the scary kind. Set before Heiress Discordia, obviously...



"Oi! Amanda! Beer!" Pete yelled, as he knocked on the door. "Also cigarettes and bad bar food. Cab's here in ten minutes! Bring your fake ID."

There was a flurry of noise, sounding very much like books being slammed shut and a closet being flung open, and then Amanda opened the door, boots on but still unlaced, jacket in the process of being pulled on and wallet in her mouth. "You sure you ain't a telepath?" she asked once she'd managed to finish pulling her jacket on long enough to shove the wallet in her pocket. "'Cause I was thinkin' of comin' down an' draggin' you out meself."

---

A short cab ride later, and they were ensconced in the back corner of one of Pete's favourite bars. It was dark and smoky, and no-one bothered anyone else. The last time a bunch of students from one of the local colleges had walked in, the police had found them all three days later, wandering naked through fields three counties away. Those that retained the power of speech claimed to have no memory of what had happened, but all of them suffered from traumatic flashbacks when alcohol was set in front of them.

"Right then. We have drinks, and we're away from that bloody school. How're you?"

Amanda didn't answer for a minute, being busy concentrating on the first swallow of her pint. Beer. Real beer. Ah. "Better for gettin' away," she replied honestly, setting the glass down and looking him over. All in one piece, no obvious bullet holes... must have been a good trip. "I might've been overdoin' the healin' a bit," she admitted.

Pete raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Did someone put you in charge of fixing the world while I wasn't looking?"

He lit up, and slid the packet across the table to her.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Not exactly. 'S the bloody accident-prone people 'round the place that need fixin' all the time. Not that I could do much for Alison - there's just too much damage." Busying herself with the business of lighting a cigarette of her own, she inhaled deeply and blew out smoke before going on. "'M not the only one - anyone who's got anythin' t' do with medlab's been going bonkers lately. Still, 's easier with the blue hairball back." She tilted her head at him. "Yer've got that smug look. Good trip?"

"Yeah, well bear in mind that the people in medlab are all insane, and you're supposed to be here to learn, you know, useful things, not to catch brain diseases off people who're too daft to know when to stop. Also, when you overdo it, Strange complains. To Romany. And then she starts with the threats."

Pete grinned. "But to answer the bloody question, yeah, I had a good trip. Think I've found a way to kick someone's legs out from under them for a bit - I'll tell you about it when I'm sure I've got it right."

"Point taken. An' Bartlet kicked me out an' told me t' not come back until I'd gotten some decent rest, so 's not like they're runnin' me too ragged." A slightly relieved look crossed her face. "Means I'm off the hook from healing Lee, at least." Taking another sip of beer, she snickered. "Ooh, someone's for it. I can tell. You only look that pleased with yerself when someone who deserves it is about t' have a right bastard of a day. Oh, an' speakin' of which... Word's out in the magic community about Patches. Seems everyone's steerin' clear of anythin' that's got Rom's name anywhere near it, includin' me. Thought yer'd like t' know yer educational session got results."

Pete took a drag on his cigarette, and blew the smoke down through his nose, still grinning. "Good - I'd hate to think I was losing me touch. And Romany says it's the look I get when I'm about to 'happen to someone'. She says she saw it a lot when I was your age."

"You were my age? Pull the other one," Amanda replied cheekily, relaxing back in her chair. Oh, she'd missed this. "Well, I'd say you happened t' Patches an' then some. Even the hard core types have gone all quiet. Not that I have a lot t' do with 'em, but Craig keeps his eye on things internet-wise. 'Specially after this whole mess with Jubilee. He's kickin' himself he didn't twig earlier that she was pokin' her nose in where it wasn't wanted."

"Yeah, like Romany hasn't told you all the really humiliating stories." Pete took a sip of his Scotch. "Craig ain't the only one - I meant to look the little mick bastard up after that business with Rack anyway, but something came up, like it always bloody does." He shrugged. "No mileage in what-if's, though."

"Just a couple, yeah," Amanda replied, her grin turning evil. Then she shrugged. "'S over an' done with now. All that..." A slightly wondering expression came over her face. "'S weird - gettin' rid of the bindin', all that, 's made for a lot less shite in my head. An' there's stuff I can do now I couldn't do before - makes me wonder whether Rack put in some blocks I didn't know about." Another shrug. "It'd make sense if he had - didn't want me gettin' better 'n him too soon."

"Wouldn't surprise me, the twisted fuck." Pete shook his head. "Still, you got rid of him in the end." The smile on Pete's face had none of the usual traces of 'evil grin' about it.

"And speaking of things in your life getting sorted out, what's going on with Manuel? It looks a lot like he's trying to turn over a new leaf..."

"He is," Amanda said, looking pleased and not a little proud. "'S not easy, but he really is tryin'. Listenin' t' people, tryin' not t' be such a git, gettin' help from theh X geezer with his trainin'..." A brief, impish grin crossed her face. "Gettin' me t' kick him in the arse when he forgets. I just wish he'd drop this whole Hellfire business - he'd have a real shot at not bein' the monster everyone thinks he is if he did that. Still, can't expect him t' give up everythin'."

"If you think it'd help, I can sit down, have a chat with him. I've worked with some of the bastards in the London branch a few times, and Emma and I talked about me being the White King for a bit, so I've got some idea of the score there." He shrugged. "Hell, if there's anything else I can do to give him a hand, let me know..."

"You would?" Amanda blinked at him, surprised - she'd gotten so used to people telling her Manuel was a hopeless case, she'd pretty much resigned herself to helping him on her own. "Yeah, that'd be good. Brilliant, even. That place... it's not my sort of thing at all. All I know is, it gives me the creeps." She pulled a face. "Goin' there for this big party on Manny's birthday this Monday. Don't really want to, but it's important to him, so I will, just this once."


"Yeah, I would. I think he's been a bit a of a wanker up to now but y'know, if he's making an honest stab at turning himself into something a bit better, of course I'll give him a hand. It'll probably drive the both of us up the wall, but y'know, it ain't like I'm going to try and teach him ethics, or anything about his bloody power." Pete grinned. "I mean, I am a bloody guidance counsellor, after all."

She snickered at that. "An' scary as it sounds, I think you actually do all right at it," she remarked, reaching for her beer again. Mustn't neglect the beer. Or the cigarette burning down in her hand. "I appreciate it, Pete, I really do. An' I think he will, as well. Even if he probably doesn't say anythin'."

Pete took another drag on his cigarette.

"Yeah, I imagine I'll spend a while explaining to him that I don't want anything from him."

And sip of his scotch.

"But this is starting to sound suspiciously like talking about work, for me at least. We can do better than that. Got any plans for Christmas?"

"Christmas? That'd be that whole Christian holiday that we pagans don't tend t' celebrate on account of the whole genocide thing?" Amanda asked with a mock-innocent grin. "Dunno yet. Go an' see Rom for Yule, maybe head over t' Muir if Nate an' Moira are doin' Christmas there... What about you?"

"Genocide, my arse. Come to that, christian holiday, my arse, too. I grew up with Romany. Would you like me start quoting the stats on the number of witches that were actually killed?" Pete grinned back at her.

"I'm heading back home, too. I ought to look in on Dad, and I haven't had more than a couple of days to see Romany all year. We're about due a proper family christmas - all me scars from the last one have faded, and Dad's got new neighbours who need frightening even more than the old bastard has managed so far..."

"You know, I've never met yer Dad..." Amanda began in that tone of voice that said there was possible fun to be had. "Need help with the neighbour terrorisin'?"

"'Course, but I warn you now, he's old, evil, and smells bad. You're going to be horribly disappointed." He took another drink.

"He'll probably spend Christmas attempt to explain why the Freemasons had JKF killed so he couldn't get Marylin Monroe pregnant with lizards. Or how the Jimmy Hoffa was dismembered and buried in seven different places in a ritual to break the power of the left wing in America."

Amanda laughed. "Well, 's more entertainin' than Le Beau's theories 'bout the X geezer's army of mutant killers," she said. "Or Manny rantin' 'bout Nate's brain-eatin' parasites. An' he can't smell worse than some of the winos I've run across before I came here."

"Yeah, but at least with them, you can be bloody sure they're wrong. Dad finds evidence.
I don't have the first fucking clue how he does it, but he's got me half convinced that he's right about the Hoffa thing."

He took a drag on his cigarette.

"Still, at least I know he's wrong about JFK."

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[x-pete.livejournal.com]

Heh. I completely forgot about posting this one. Sorry.