veneficusvenato (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
veneficusvenato) wrote2016-03-16 10:15 pm
veneficusvenato) wrote2016-03-16 10:15 pm
Alice, Through the Looking Glass
Do your job, you love it, Lee had said,
and Sokka hadn't helped adding, Be good
and we'll make it worth your while even.
For them, Jo'd stood still while two of the costumers got to make her over in a way she rarely agreed. She told herself if was for Sokka and Leah, but it was for Gillespie, too. Who might have been a Gil, but could have been a Dick, John, Harry or Bartholemuel, too. That was the job, after all. Part of which was dressing up and dragging the newest trainee to a Ministry Function, because that, too, required training this high up. Learning that this was all part of it, too.
Blending in, using your real name, but with the longest-lived lie you were handed.
Today, which involved watching two people curl her hair and apply her makeup with wands, and even a board that looked more like an artists pallet. Then a short white dress, with just enough give to hide her wand but nothing else, and an even smaller, more ornamental, looking shoulder jacket.
It would have been lovely if that was the worst the night could offer. Dresses, makeup, small talk, and Gillespie. But things never went that easy, really, did they. She couldn't just go home and bitch to her people about the mind numbing boringness and the funny tasting food. No, of course not. Instead the night went from that to explosions, sparks raining purple and black, from two dozen people dressed in black and purple, and running.
Shoving Gillespie, while shouting and and firing behind them. Creating a diversion. A spectacle. They weren't meant to be the people who did clean-up or cattle herding of the ministry wives and children. This wasn't exactly what they were for either, but they excelled in a pinch. Just like a handful of the other groups that had been in the milling dinner crowd.
The throbbing knuckles, and the disarray of her curls, as well as a rip along one side of her skirt, had happened before the running started, but they were lost in that. The way running did. Took every thought that wasn't attacks, hexes, and counter-spells. Stumbling through the doorway that should have led to a staircase, but didn't. She felt it sizzle through her skin, but all the three wizards were following right after, and as a burst of purple exploded toward them, Jo shoved Gillespie out of the path.
But it slammed straight into her, acid burning and needle stinging, sending her stumbling backwards, with a crack that she was sure was one of those damned heels they'd insisted on, which only helped it. She reached out to catch the reddish drape hanging behind her, but her fingers went straight through it, and her shoulders followed sending her into a tumble.....
Or the one after that. Everything went black around, and she swore she would
have Gil's ass for breakfast, as well as the costumers, and her best friends.....
....before the light returned in a blinding assault and Jo collided solidly,
in an all too familiar feeling, with another body beneath her.
in an all too familiar feeling, with another body beneath her.
[ Jo's Timeline: 1 Year Before Order of the Jobberknoll
SPN Timeline: ??? ]
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He laughed and slid off the bed, then petted Amy, once, before padding toward a bureau, then bending to retrieve underwear and pants. He slid them as he spoke. "Complaints, always complaints. Damn, it's good to see you again, Jo." Even if she wasn't his Jo.
"Now that I have pants on, we should get you sitting up and figure out what the heck is going on."
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"If you two want to catch up, I can go? She didn't mind, she could go make them something to eat before heading into the archives. Leaving them to talk.
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Jo doesn't know what to make of that comment. It's the last thing she'd expect Sam to ever say to her. It's been years, and it wasn't like she'd left with so much as even a goodbye glance at Dean. She'd dropped him cold and she'd let the Ministry play Big Bad Block for her. Even if she threatened to send back ribbon'd boxes of anyone who dared touch Dean or take away his memories of her.
It was fucked. But it was all she had to give, or could take, then. Six of one, half-dozen of the other.
She looked down at the little paw and actually reached out a hand to touch it lightly. Soft, against her slowly forming focus of her vision and against her fingers, as she slitting a half look toward Sam. Like she was being careful he wouldn't be a dick and just be standing there naked. Except he wasn't Dean, and he did have pants. Letting her blink and look at him normally, offering. "Already sitting. Point one, WHD."
She looked between the two of them at the foxes question -- maybe a little surprised when it spoke than by it at all. Who exactly was the animagus that Sam drug into his bed, that could somehow actually speak in English while in an animal form? She let the question hang between them, uncertain how much Sam wanted a civilian hearing or not hearing.
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"Amy, stay. I have a feeling we can use your knowledge. You've spent more time here around these books than any of us. And frankly, I trust you more than almost anyone else in the worlds. Also, your senses might have some answers I don't."
He spoke clearly and succinctly, meeting both of their eyes to make his point.
Then he nodded. "Can you tell us, exactly, what happened before you were suddenly landing on me?"
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Amy had to wonder what Jo was thinking. If she wanted her to leave, if she'd speak up. But Sam saying how much he trusted her. How kind he was n the way that said that she didn't get out all that much. It made her feel better. She wanted to tell him all that and more but with Jo... That wasn't going to be possible right then.
"I love you, Sam..." She promptly felt like she should be blushing. Thankful she had fur and was red anyway. "I'll help if I can."
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Well. That's not awkward or anything. Jo's totally not rubbing at her neck and waiting for them to finish having their moment there. Since it's not like she fell into their bed or anything. Probably while they were potentially already busy and up to what people got up to. In bed. With clothes. Where people did not usually fall out of the sky on to you, suddenly. Which the thought of made her look up, but there was nothing else there.
The blank ceiling was blank and mostly dark, as Sam started talking to her again. Making her look over.
"I was in a fight." There's a second her gaze tracks back to the fox, but Sam chose to have her stay and he knew what that could meant. She had to, too. Still she was careful. Because there were oaths, and then there were oaths. "There were three of them, and I was trying to get Gillespie out before the worst of it could hit him. It was his first night in the field. At one their functions."
his their gets a faintly beleaguered pressure and look, like he'd understand.
Minstry functions. Faults of the job, like glass in your shoe, but you did it. For the job.
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"Okay. Now go back and... " he rubbed his face. "I don't know who you work for. This isn't your universe, I don't think." He shook his head.
"Somehow, you were knocked... here." His lips twisted lopsidedly. "At a delicate moment, which might have contributed. " He didn't know a lot about tantric magic, but he knew some of it could build up even without knowledge.
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Amy was about to put her paw on Sam's arm when she thought he was about to say what they were doing. In absence of anything to hide under, Amy put her paws over her eyes. Maybe they'd forget about her.
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"You know, can we not say that? And just pretend you never did? Just. No."
The last thing she wanted to think about was Sam Winchester, in flagrante delicto, dragging her down from the sky, or through curtains or whatever the bloody fuck that had been. She was going with No. Just. No, and more no. Magic, yes. Sam Winchester's penis? No.
The rest was beating hard at the edges, as she clung to the only thing she could correctly reject outright as his other words sank in with alarm speed. Trying to take the breath out of her chest. The breath she'd barely gotten back to breathe, in the chest that still ached like someone thought she was gong and rang every cell in her body at 300%.
"What are you talking about?" Not knowing who she worked for. She worked for the only real government force the country had.
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"A few times, over the years, Dean and I have been propelled into alternate universes, universes that possess the same people, but some event has gone differently. Often, it changed everything." He sighed.
"I have no idea who you work for, or where you're from, but I know you're not from this universe, as..." he fixed his eyes on hers. "the Jo Harvelle in this universe is dead."
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It's idiotic, that's her first thought when she realizes she's still staring at Sam, to the fox, back to Sam, but her hand went to the amulet at her neck at first reaction. Fist curving too familiarly around it. The solid, heavy weight of the brass in her hand. Before she drops it. The second she realizes. How idiotic it is. Even while the words tumble out, hard and incredulous, "That's not possible."
She wasn't dead. (Even if she wouldn't be surprised if Dean wanted her to be. Or wanted to pretend she was. Or wished she had. For how she vanished. For how she let the Ministry be the wall between them it was supposed to be between her and the world. He'd deserved better.
But so had she. Hadn't she? Is he'd loved her at all?)
She couldn't be somewhere else.
Could she?
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"Which isn't? Being dead or being here?" Amy then nudged Sam's hand with her nose at Jo holding whatever her necklace held. Something that she did herself plenty of times with the little stars and moon when she needed reassurance. Maybe it was time to face being human again. Recovering enough energy to keep herself to her normal appearance.