Title: "Playing With Fire Pt. 1"
Author: Rebecca Bradstreet
Rated: PG-13
Archive: Sure.
Summary: Dolph asks Bailey for help, and Bailey gets it.
Warning: Darkness, and death.
Disclaimer/Notes: This is a Profiler/Anita Blake Vampire Hunter Crossover. I don't own John Grant, Bailey Malone, or any other Profiler character. I don't own Rudolph Storr, Jean-Claude or any other Anitaverse character. I do own Rebecca Belinda "Becca" Drake. After all she is just a dragon version of me. I've dreamt a couple of Profiler/ABVH X-Overs. This is my attempt to turn one into a story. I use // for thoughts, and ** as emphasis. It's not beta'd so all mistakes are my own. ;)
"Playing With Fire Pt. 1"
Rebecca Bradstreet (c) 2001St Louis
Thursday Feb 15, 2001After dark, the quiet little suburban neighborhood seemed very lonely. During the day the houses had station wagons in their driveways, and kids played on tire swings in the yards. After dark there were no kids just the tire swings hanging from the trees like deadmen. Detective Sergeant Rudolph Storr, head of the Regional Preternatural Investigation Team, stood outside one house that wouldn't spring to life in the morning. Something had destroyed all the life in it. The Spook Squad had been called in because whatever had killed everyone in the house was definitely preternatural.
Though there hadn't been a lot of remains in the house the Medical Examiner was pretty sure some of them had been those of a child. Remains -- leftovers was truer. Storr was looking at his *third* crime scene where something, or things had killed everyone in the house. He wished he had the faintest idea what the preternatural monster was. Dolph was exhausted, he needed help, and he didn't know where the Hell Anita was. He'd tried to get her the first time whatever it was had struck. Anita Blake animator, vampire executioner, and RPIT's preternatural expert was...out of town.
After the second attack The Master of the City had given Storr an interview. Jean-Claude had offered to take a look at the second crime scene, but he couldn't say what was loose in his city. And, he couldn't say where Anita was just that she was alive. It was definitely time to make a phone call.
"What are you thinking?" Detective Zerbrowski asked, glancing up at his partner, and running a hand tiredly through his greying black curls.
"I think it's time to call Bailey Malone," Dolph responded, starting towards his car.
"The Fed?" Zerbrowski checked, pushing his glasses up his nose and falling in behind Storr. Though Dolph was 6'8", Zerbrowski only 5'7", Zerbrowski had plenty of experience keeping up.
"Yeah, the Fed. Anita isn't here. The Master of the City was unhelpful. And we *need* help. Malone may know somebody who can help with this mess. It's worth a try anyway." Storr explained tiredly before picking up his cell phone.
Atlanta
Headquarters of the VCTFBailey Malone, Senior Agent of the Violent Crimes Task Force, was sitting in his office drinking his scotch and listening to his opera when the phone rang. From the moment he answered it Storr had his undivided attention. Dolph told him all about the killings, and how badly RPIT needed some help.
"I know someone Storr. We'll be along soon," Bailey promised Dolph. They talked a bit more, and then Malone hung up. He sat for a few moments wondering if he'd gone too far promising he could provide Storr with an expert; wondering if the team could help Dolph without one. Whatever, the next thing he did wasn't making a phone call. He stuck his head out of his office, and barked, "George, tell them to get the jet ready! John, I've got someone I want you to meet!"
"Now?" Grant asked surprised.
"Yes, if you've got plans cancel them," Bailey told him before he pulled his head back into his office.
Albion
Rebecca Drake's House
Friday Feb 16, 2001John wondered how wide the driveway was without the snow. The branches of a crabapple tree brushed the top of the snow bank on his left. He parked the car carefully outside the house, and asked, "Okay, Bailey, what are we doing way out here?"
"RPIT's preternatural expert's missing. They called us for help. Rachel's specialty is human monsters. Rebecca Drake's is shapeshifters," Malone told him, getting out of the car, and going to knock on the front door.
"Rebecca Drake? Never heard of her," Grant said, standing behind Bailey on the front steps.
"That's why you're here," Malone smiled at John. Bailey knocked on the door. At first there didn't seem to be anyone home. Then Grant saw a woman coming to answer the door. She was 5'5" tall with her light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and the sleeves of her sweater shoved up above her elbows. Rebecca Drake opened the door, and looked them both over. She knew Bailey. His face had more wrinkles, but there wasn't any grey in his brown hair; no stoop to his 6 foot frame. She met Malone's brown eyes, and Bailey knew she wouldn't come easily.
The man behind Bailey she didn't know. He was 6'2" with curly brown hair, and very blue eyes. Becca felt an ache that made her want to close her eyes -- the door, tell them to go away and leave her alone. Looking into John's sky blue eyes she wanted to get to know him -- wanted to hear his laugh and see his smile. Drake took a deep breath, and Grant wondered what she was struggling with. Was it the same vertigo he'd felt when her eyes had met his? Becca gave Bailey a warm, but cautious smile, "Bailey, do I want to know what brings you way out here?"
"Becca, can we come in?" Malone asked evenly.
"Sure, I guess. Come in Bailey, and..." Drake couldn't let Grant cross her threshold without getting his name.
"Grant, John, John Grant," John introduced himself as he slipped across her doorstep. He wanted to give Becca his first name, but he wasn't sure if he should.
"I like what you've done with this place since I saw it last, Becca," Malone said as he sat down on her living room couch.
"Thanks, Bailey. Should I offer you coffee, or ask you to cut to the chase?" She offered distractedly as she watched Grant pick her favorite chair to sit in.
"I'd love some of your coffee, but we don't have the time. People are dying. The RPIT's got a killer on their hands they can't identify. Their preternatural expert is missing. They called me hoping I could get them some help. Can I?" He gave her a long hard look. Becca stared back at him.
"You *know* why I quit. I tried to live like that, but..." Her eyes changed. One moment they were some pale changeable color grey, or blue, or green. The next moment, they were dark green, and lit with some kind of fire from with in. Malone had seen fire opals that matched her dragon eyes. To John's credit he didn't fall right out of the chair instead he just croaked hoarsely, "Bailey?"
"John, Rebecca Drake is a 4,000 year old member of a race of dragons that aren't in any history, or biology books." Bailey's smile was patronizing. Becca felt an instant flash of anger at Bailey, and sympathy for Grant. She shifted her eyes back to pale human ones, and tried to think of what to say to John.
"Dragon? You mean as in fire breathing, scales, and..." Grant flapped his hands as wings. Drake laughed at that, and asked Malone, "Didn't you at least tell him my specialty is shapeshifters?"
"I *am* a shapeshifter, not a lycanthrope, an old immortal shapeshifter. This is my human form, I have two others, and one is a large fire breathing, scaled form with wings," Becca smiled at John the laughter gone from her lips, but not her eyes.
"You want to take *her* to St Louis? You think the Spook Squad won't be able to tell she's a shapeshifter?" Grant grumbled, not pleased with Becca's, and Bailey's amusement at his expense.
"The Spook Squad hasn't seen her kind before. Becca can help them if she's prepared to go." Malone left the if hanging.
John stared at Bailey then Drake. She shifted something in her eyes. This shift wasn't a magical one it was mental. Somehow Grant knew the walls Becca let down she didn't drop often. She looked not just human, but young 25 or 30 tops as long as she didn't let those walls down. Looking into her eyes with her walls down John could see Drake was something very old. Something that had seemed perfectly human when it answered the door, but behind its -- *her* walls was ancient, beautiful, and not human. Becca wasn't human, but she wasn't a monster either.
"Okay, maybe you can pass for human. Are you going to be able to tell them anything they don't already know without giving away the fact you aren't human?" Grant began to shift gears. Drake was pleased, though she hadn't really decided if she wanted to go.
"Yes. I won't give away what I am by blurting it out in conversation. I might... Bailey, how many dead?" Becca didn't want to -- couldn't finish explaining to John how she might slip up, better to focus on Malone's case.
"That they're sure of? Nine, possibly more. I'm not asking you to come back inside the Bureau. I just want you to help on this case. Come to St Louis, take a look around, and if you can't help go home." Bailey got up off the couch. He stood in front of Drake for a moment looking for something in her eyes. Then he put a hand on her shoulder.
"You're not asking me to rejoin the Bureau? You're asking me to go to St Louis, and have a baby-sitter trail me around the city?" Becca sounded angry at the thought of a baby-sitter, but truthfully she was hoping Grant would be her baby-sitter.
"Not a baby-sitter, an agent, sooner or later you'll need someone with a badge." Malone wore another self-satisfied grin. He was sure Drake was deciding to come.
"Okay. I'll go to St Louis, and look around *as* a consultant." Becca took Bailey's hand from her shoulder. She stood for a moment with uncertainty written large on her face. Then she gave him a quick hug.
"I'll need to make some phone calls," Drake smiled up at Malone, turned her smile on John, and ducked out of the room.
"Let me guess, I get to baby-sit her?" Grant asked as soon as Becca was out of the room. He sounded disgusted at the thought, but he'd suspected it before she left, and been careful not to let his suspicion show. He wanted to get to know her better.
"She has 4,000 years of experience in her head if you pay attention you might learn something from her," Bailey advised Grant.
Hotel
Saturday Feb 17, 2001"Are we getting out of here today?" John asked Bailey as they warmed themselves with coffees before heading back to Becca's house.
"Becca, will be ready to go before things are ready back in Atlanta. We'll have to take her back to Atlanta before we can head for St Louis. George is getting her credentials ready, and Grace is putting together a review of the ME reports on the St Louis killings," Malone told Grant as he finished his coffee and got up to head for the car.
"Credentials? You told Drake she could come along as a consultant." John winced at his calling her Drake instead of Becca, and at his sudden surge of hope that she was going to join the team.
"She's agreed to be an FBI consultant. George is putting together ID for her," Bailey grinned, and patted Grant on the shoulder. John finished his coffee, and got up to follow Malone to the car.
"Becca is taking a risk consulting. She might come back inside the Bureau, but not until she's reassured herself she can handle the risk." Bailey told Grant as he started the car.
Becca's House
"I've got everything set here, Bailey. I'm ready to go whenever you are." Drake, standing holding her bags, smiled at Malone.
"That's great, Becca. I've got a few more phone calls I need to make. John..." Bailey took one of Drake's bags and held it out to Grant.
"Let's get these in the car and find some lunch," John grinned at Becca as he took her bag from Malone.
"Okay... Don't stick me with a huge phone bill Bailey Malone." Drake tried to scowl over her shoulder as she followed Grant to the car.
"Who said I was going to use your phone?" Bailey called to her from her doorstep waving his cell phone.
"Are we really going to leave him here while we get lunch?" Becca whispered to John as their heads nearly bumped settling her bags in the back of the car.
"My marching orders were to keep you occupied while he makes his phone calls. You got a good Chinese place around here?" Grant surprised himself admitting to his marching orders, and he waited to see how she'd react to them.
"He's probably going to be making a bunch of 'I could tell you who I was talking to, but then I'd have to kill you,' phone calls. He definitely better not make them from *my* phone. I like the food at the Jade Dragon, but I admit my weakness may be partially do to its name," Drake smiled as she slid into the passenger seat, and buckled herself in.
"Do you need the seat belt? I mean..." John felt silly asking the question, but there was so much he didn't know about what she was much less who.
"If you mean, 'Would I survive going through the car windshield at 90 miles an hour?' I'd survive it, but it would hurt like Hell, and I'd have to explain how I did it. I'm safer using the seat belt just like you." Becca wanted to reach across him and fasten his seat belt. She settled for watching him fasten it, and start the car.
"So where is the Jade Dragon?" John asked Becca.
Jade Dragon
"This place is good," Grant managed to say without choking on his noodles as Drake did another trick with her chopsticks.
"I try to keep a clear idea of what is 'good' Chinese food, and what is 'good' Italian in my head. After a while you can lose track of what is 'good,' or at least what the current standard of 'good' is. Of course you have all kinds of time to learn tricks." Becca stopped playing with her chopsticks, and watched John swallow a mouthful of noodles safely.
"You really are 4,000 years old?" Grant whispered half from concern he might be over heard half from simple disbelief.
"About. John..." She let her walls down again. Her eyes didn't make his head swim like they had when he'd first looked into them. They didn't threaten to swallow him the way they had when she'd lowered her walls the day before, but this time he could almost make things out in them -- places, and people he'd never seen. He could get lost in her eyes, and what scared him was it didn't scare him.