#I do rather like the idea of Alice being able to lift and carry Victor

[victorluvsalice]

AU Thursday: As Long As You Love Me -- First Meeting

Okay, Dirk Gently featured prominently at SDCC this year -- at least on my dash, where my friend @dont-offend-the-bees reblogged a few of the new clips -- so let’s have some of the DGHDA AU that’s not the Holistic Coffee Shop! Here’s the snippet of Victor and Alice’s first meeting. A bit of context -- Victor’s been kidnapped by a bunch of rough types, and is behind held for ransom in a mysterious warehouse. The leader, Hugo, is just about to start on more drastic measures to get William and Nell to pay up -- when one of his men bursts in with news:

"Boss! We've got an intruder!"

"Intruder?" Hugo repeated, straightening. "Police?"

"I don't know!" Scott cried. "Just Todd radioed me about somebody coming, and before he could say anything else. . ." He cringed. "It d-didn't sound good."

"Shit," Hugo hissed. He shoved Victor's chair back into the closet – Victor yelped as his head bounced off the wall. "Shut up! Lemme deal with this." He pulled out his pocket knife and unfolded the blade, holding it level with Victor's eyes. "And then we'll get back to convincing your parents that they should pay up."

Victor whimpered, hands clenching into terrified fists under his bonds. Hugo smirked, then shut the door, leaving him in a private sea of darkness. "Scott! Let's show this bastard how we do things around here!"

There was the click-click-click of guns being readied, then footsteps tramping out of the room. Victor shut his eyes and prayed that the intruder was indeed a policeman. Though to survive against this lot, they'd have to be a SWAT member. . .please, please, I want to go home. . .

BANG! BANG! BANG! "AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGHHH!"

Victor's eyes flew open. That – had been an awfully loud and tortured scream. And it was quickly followed by a number of others:

"Scott! Fuck, I – shit! shit shit shit–"

BANG! BANG! click "The fuck, I just–"

"How the hell is she doing this?!"

"I dunno, I just – glurkkk. . ."

"Oh God – fuck this noise! I'm – AAAAH!"

BANG! "This – this can't be – fuck!"

A clatter, and then the footsteps were back, this time running in the opposite direction, toward his closet. There were followed by a rather measured pair, slowly advancing on the runner. "No! No no no!" Hugo's voice came. Victor's eyes went wide – for the first time since they'd met a fortnight ago, he sounded panicked. "Look, look, we can – we can negotiate, right? We can – here! Here, take it, take it all!"

There was a soft little thwap, like a leather wallet hitting concrete. The slower footsteps paused. "Yeah, see?" Hugo said, a touch of relief in his voice. "Loads of money. And I got more coming on the way, I promise! You leave me alone, and – and fifty-fifty cut of the profits here. O-once I get some new guys. But fifty-fifty. Hell, sixty-forty. We make a good buck. I-It's an investment!" Victor could picture him trying to smile. "That sound good? We got a deal?"

A moment's silence. Then – "No."

And then the world outside the closet was nothing but screaming and a distressingly meaty series of thwucks and thwunks and the occasional crunch. Victor gaped, eyes locked on the door. Oh God. . .whoever this mystery woman was, she was certainly not a policeman. And she could take on Hugo? Apparently without a gun? His brain started flashing images of hulking bodybuilders before his eyes, women who could lift him above their heads and snap him in two without even trying. And one was right outside his door, slaughtering the toughest man he'd ever met. . .

The screams trailed off into a cold silence, followed by one last thwunk. "I do thank you for the money, though," the woman continued. "I was running a bit low." Another thwap of leather on concrete. "You can keep the wallet, I have my own. Now, let's see. . ."

Victor held his breath as he heard the woman stand up. Oh God – was her bloodlust sated? Or was she now on the hunt for a new victim? Would she think to look inside his closet? Please don't, he begged. Please don't please don't it's just vacuum cleaners and mops in here nobody else please don't please don't –

The door opened. Victor squeaked, blinking at the change in light –

Then blinked again as he got his first proper look at the woman who'd taken on Hugo and all the rest. Instead of the expected muscle-bound madam, the person standing before him was a rather small and slight young lady about his age. She was dressed simply, in a white t-shirt and jeans, a blue jacket tied around her waist, and a leather knife sheath peaking out from beneath it. A tangle of dark hair fell around her face, and she had honestly the prettiest green eyes he'd ever seen – bright and sharp. Honestly, Victor would have had trouble believing she was the killer if it weren't for the knife still clutched in her hand –

And the blood covering her body from head to toe. Victor hadn't seen so much red on a person outside of a slasher movie. Worse was the fact that the woman herself was completely ignoring it – as if this happened often enough that it wasn't even registering anymore. "Curiouser and curiouser," she commented, looking him over. "You don't look like a broom and bucket."

Victor whimpered. Part of him wanted to plead for his life, say that his parents would likely give her a reward if she brought him back in one piece – but that hadn't helped Hugo any. He could see in graphic detail just behind her legs how much it hadn't helped him. Maybe it would be better to just stay silent and hope that granted him a swift and relatively painless death. "Can't you talk?" the woman continued. "They do seem like the sorts who–"

She stopped abruptly, head turning toward an empty spot of floor beside her. "I beg your pardon?"

Victor blinked. Now what? "I–"

"Not you," the woman said, holding up a hand, eyes still on the floor. "You want me to – why?" She listened for a moment, then frowned at her unseen conversational partner. "Important? You're sure?" Another pause, leading to her putting her hands on her hips with an irritated scowl. "Well, it wasn't like I was just going to leave him here! I just don't get why–" She sighed at a silent interruption. "Fine, fine, if you're sure. . ."

With that, she loped around Victor's chair, knife at the ready. Victor shut his eyes tight, waiting for the bite of steel in his throat. Please, I'm begging you, just make it quick –

Zzz-zz-zzz-snap! Zzz-zzz-zz-snap! Zz-zz-zzz-snap!

That – definitely wasn't his neck. Victor's eyes snapped open again as the ropes around his wrists fell away. On automatic, he stretched the stiffness from his shoulders, then rubbed the aching lines cut into his skin. She'd – released him? But why? Was the hunt not any fun for her if her victims couldn't fight back or run away? Or – against all hope – was she letting him go?

It can't be that – you've seen her face, the more pessimistic side of his brain pointed out as she moved to the bonds around his legs. She's probably recognized you, realized what was going on, and decided she can be the one to get the ransom. She took Hugo's money, after all.

Yes – but – why let me up from the chair, then? Victor asked himself through another round of zzz-zz-zz-snap! Wouldn't it be safer to guarantee I can't run?

His eyes found the bloodstained knife again. She has other ways of making sure you don't go anywhere.

The last rope yielded to the blade's teeth. "I hope that hasn't blunted it too badly," the woman murmured, testing the edge against her finger. Those bright green eyes met his. "Do you think you can walk?"

To Victor's continued bafflement, she sounded absolutely sincere – even a bit concerned. "I – I don't know," he admitted. "It's b-been a while since I was let up. . . ."

"Right." The woman slid the knife into its sheath and stood. "Well, I don't think it prudent we stick around too long, so allow me."

"Allow – oh!"

Strong arms wrapped around his waist, and hoisted him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry. Without another word, she turned and carried him away, like a sheep to the shearing. A very large and awkward sheep, admittedly – his head was about level with her bottom. Which, unfortunately, gave him an excellent view of the carnage she'd inflicted on Hugo. He gulped as he watched the cooling blood drip out of the stab wounds. "G-goodness. . ."

"Evilness," the woman corrected. "I have no pity for him, or the others. They had no pity for their victims. Do you know what business they were in, or were you stuck in the closet before you could find out?"

"Um – m-movies, of some sort," Victor said, recalling the few times he'd been out of the closet long enough to see the camera equipment stored in the little warehouse.

"Snuff porn," the woman replied, without preamble. Victor's jaw dropped. "One of their recruiters gave me a business card. Last thing he ever did."

"Want to be in pictures, Van Dort? Bet I could make you a star." Victor shuddered as Hugo's words replayed themselves in his head. He'd guessed that they were almost certainly making pornography, but to learn they'd tricked innocent people into being killed for a shot at fame. . . They entered the hallway, and while the bodies strewn around were gruesome, Victor had a lot harder time feeling sorry for them. Would something like this have been his fate if his parents hadn't paid the ransom? Or even if they had? He didn't like to think about it. Especially with so much blood and gore so close to his face.

It was a thankfully short walk out of the building – soon they were in the parking lot under cloudy skies, passing the remains of Todd (who seemed to have been let off with just having his throat cut – probably because she'd been in a hurry to get to the others before they could prepare for her arrival) and heading towards an old red convertible. The woman opened the passenger side door and dumped him in his seat. "I do hope you'll be able to move on your own soon," she commented, going around to the driver's side. "I can't carry you everywhere, you know."

"I know," Victor murmured. He glanced across the expanse of gray concrete and white lines. He could make a run for it now, he supposed – but he didn't trust his chances of getting more than a few feet before tripping or getting tackled. Or stabbed. "I'm sorry."

"Not really your fault, you've been in a closet." The woman started up the car. "Seat belts. Not that I think we'll crash unless we're meant to, but just in case."

Victor obligingly buckled up. "The police are a-already looking for me," he said, wondering if it would actually make a difference. "I'm sure of it."

"Well, of course. I imagine your family wants you back," the woman said, unconcerned. She shifted the car into drive and peeled out of her space. Victor grabbed onto the door to steady himself as they whipped around toward the road. "And I'll get you to them. Eventually."

Victor gulped. "I – I don't have my phone. H-Hugo took it. I don't know how you'd c-contact them for the ransom."

The woman gave him a funny look. "Why would I want a ransom? I just got five hundred dollars off that idiot. I'm not pestering some poor couple for more."

Victor's thoughts screeched to a halt. "I – you – you don't know who I am?"

The woman shook her head. "I've been out of the loop for about twelve years, and even now watching the news or celebrity talk shows is not on my list of priorities. If you're someone famous, I'm afraid you'll just have to suffer my ignorance." She zoomed onto the quiet highway. "Of course, since Cheshire seems certain that we need to stick together for now, I guess introductions are in order." She gave him a nod. "Alice Liddell."

"Victor," Victor managed to get out after a further moment of astonishment. "Victor V-Van Dort. I – I g-guess you don't like canned fish?"

"Not particularly. Do you?"

". . .Not really."

She flashed him a smile. "Then we'll get along just fine."

[victorluvsalice]

Happy Birthday, Auntie Keith!

@dont-offend-the-bees I’ve actually had this saved up specifically for this day -- it’s a sequel to those three sentences you wrote about the coffee shop AU. Rather MORE than three sentences on my end, but -- well. Hope you like!

I can't believe I'm actually hoping you're not working today.

Victor swallowed anxiously as he pushed open the door. Normally he'd be looking forward to this part of the day – anticipating the honeyed earthiness of his green tea, the plush softness of his window seat, and of course the beautiful face of his favorite counter girl. But now. . . .

It was his own dumb fault, he knew. He should have asked before committing her form to his sketchbook. He just – he hadn't been able to help himself. He'd been sitting with the blank page before him, trying to wring some inspiration out of his midday snack, and said favorite counter girl – Alice, as he'd learned by reading her name tag countless times – had passed by with her hands full of old wrappers and paper plates, and – well. Even carrying a load of garbage, she'd been lovely – long dark hair falling over her shoulders in a slightly-tangled waterfall, pink lips set in a determined "why can't people figure out how to clean up after themselves?" frown, bright green eyes locked on her goal of the trash can. Not capturing such beauty in ink had seemed a terrible crime at the time. And he'd assumed she'd never know – that it would be something for him to admire privately in his dorm room while he worked up the courage to actually say more than "Large green tea with honey and a chocolate chocolate chip muffin," to her. He'd never expected her to actually come up to his table to see if he needed anything. He certainly hadn't guessed she'd do so just as he was adding the final loving touches to her lips. Victor winced as he recalled seeing a shadow falling over his page, and looking up to find his subject staring right at it. Why me? Why then? Wasn't there anybody else who needed her attention?

The worst part was that he had no idea what she'd thought of the piece. Her expression as she'd studied it had been hard to read. And he'd been much too flustered to ask, instead just tossing some coins down on the table before sweeping up his things and making his escape to his dormitory. If she'd only smiled, or frowned, or torn the page out, or even told him he was a creep, maybe he wouldn't have spent most of last night staring at the ceiling and wondering why he had such awful luck with girls. Well, all right, if she'd done any of the last three, he still would have, but at least he would have known for sure. I wonder if I've clued another one into the fact that she prefers ladies. . . .

"Hey."

Victor started out of his thoughts. Oh dear – there she was, standing at the counter, in her regulation yellow Sunny Brews shirt, watching him. . .and smiling? "We should set our clock by you," she continued, sliding the familiar yellow cup and brown muffin toward him. "Here – I took the liberty of getting your order ready early."

"Oh. Ah – t-thank you," Victor said, off-balance. Wow. Usually it's just "That'll be eight pounds sixty, please." And she looks so cheerful. . .I guess she can't be that upset about the picture. He reached for his wallet.

Only for her to wave him off. "On us today," she told him, handing him an extra napkin. "For a loyal customer."

Victor blinked, slowly taking his hand out of his pocket. Free? She was giving him this for free? Slowly, cautiously, his spirits lifted. I thought for sure she'd be upset. . .perhaps she was flattered instead? Maybe – maybe I could ask her later? "Thank you," he repeated, finally smiling back. "That's very kind of you, Alice."

She shrugged, then leaned on her hand with a playful smirk. "I'll think we'll survive without your money for one day. Perhaps not two, though."

Victor chuckled. "I'll make sure to remember to pay tomorrow." With a little parting wave, he headed to his usual seat. That was – that was nice! Oh, I'm so glad I didn't ruin our – well, our acquaintance, I suppose. But if she's willing to joke around like that, she probably wouldn't mind being friends. And perhaps –

Okay, Victor, don't get ahead of yourself, he scolded himself as he pulled out his chair. Just be glad she didn't order you out of the place. Have your snack and then later – what's that?

He blinked and looked at his napkin. Was that – ink, bleeding through? Oh dear – she didn't accidentally hand me the notes for someone else's order, did she? Puzzled, he turned it over.

To see what was very distinctly a phone number.

He stared at it, frozen, for what had to be a solid minute. Had she really – his head snapped around toward the counter, but she'd vanished, presumably to do something in the back. He turned back again, gaping at the string of digits. She – I – I thought these sorts of things only happened in the movies!

Well, there was only one thing to do. Victor whipped out his iPhone and opened his contact list, hitting the plus at the top. 07310-060704. Alice the Waitress. . .who definitely is interested in more than just friends.