Other People's Sandboxes

Title: Dinner Date
Fandom: Inception/West Wing (sort of)
Characters: Ariadne/Arthur, Josh/Donna
Word Count: 423
Rating: G
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Notes: Written for tinylegacies's 2010 fandom_stocking.
----

Ariadne blinked and found herself in front of a familiar-looking building. The sting of the needle ghosted in her arm, but she was too distracted to notice it.

"The White House? You dreamed up Washington DC?" she asked her companion. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but couldn't we have gone here in, you know, reality?"

Arthur merely shook his head and smiled mysteriously.

"But what about that whole 'don't dream up real places' thing that you and Cobb are always going on about?" she demanded. "And what are we supposed to do here anyway?"

"Patience, my love," Arthur said, still looking enigmatic.

Whatever Ariadne was going to say next was cut off by a shout from someone emerging from the gates.

"Arthur! So glad to see you! Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

Ariadne turned to see a man hustling towards them. "Josh Lyman?" she blurted out when he got close enough for her to recognize.

The man - Josh - brightened up. "You must be Ariadne. I've heard a lot about you." He extended his hand to her. "So where do you guys want to go to dinner?" he continued brightly. "I know of this great little place in Georgetown and - "

"Josh!" This time it was a female voice and Ariadne turned to see a tall blonde woman coming through the same gate. She carried an overcoat draped over one arm and a purse in the other.

"Leo says that he needs you back by nine to go over the Holwitz briefing, Sam needs you to review the file he sent over before tomorrow morning, and CJ says that you're treating us all to dinner," she said, handing Josh the overcoat. "I swear, he would forget his head, if it wasn't attached," she said confidentially to Ariadne. "I'm Donna. You must be Ariadne."

Ariadne could only stand there dumbfounded, as two of her favorite tv characters argued in front of her.

"Well, come on then," Josh said. "Since I'm apparently buying dinner, let's get going."

Ariadne felt a tug on her hand, and she and Arthur trailed behind the other couple, who were still bickering congenially.

"You dreamed up West Wing's Washington?" she asked Arthur in a surprised whisper.

"Do you like it?" he asked shyly, suddenly looking very unlike the confident point man she had grown accustomed to.

"Best. Present. Ever!" she agreed enthusiastically, and stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Title: To Exist
Character(s): Dawn, Connor
Rating: PG
Word Count: 240
Prompt: After Hours
Written the daily theme of “Movie Titles” on comment_fic.
----

They weren’t supposed to exist, neither of them. So of course that meant that they went out of their way to live. It became a game, to see which one of them could sneak out first. Sometimes it was Dawn, using every skill she had learned from her Slayer sister, to make it past the inevitable guard (“receptionist” - as if) at the front desk. Sometimes it was Connor, although he denied ever cheating.

Then they would run to the darkest, skivviest clubs in LA and stand in line just like any other normal couple. Well, any other normal couple who knew which things that went bump in the night to be afraid of and which could safely be ignored.

And once they got in, they danced, the Girl Who Didn’t Exist and the Boy Who Shouldn’t Exist, Dawn in her too-short skirt and too-tight top, long hair hanging heavily down to her waist, and Connor, betraying his parentage in his black leather pants and black shirt with the first three buttons undone.

They danced to verify their existence, every movement, every thrust a challenge to a universe that said they shouldn’t exist. In the comfort of the dark, home to both of them, they danced and loved and danced some more, knowing that when daylight came, they would each go back to their curious half-life, existing but not. And each of them hoped that someday they would simply be.

Fandom: Eddings's Belgariad/Tamuli crossover
Characters: Danae & Eriond
--

"He's being so stubborn about it," Danae complained. "It's not as though he doesn't know who I am. He's known that since before the wedding. And yet he refuses to let me fix this."

Eriond smiled and lay his hand on the shoulder of the frustrated princess. Danae's features softened briefly, but then she scowled and pulled away.

"Don't do that, Eriond. I taught you that trick, remember?"

"And yet it still works on you," he replied in amusement.

"Don't change the subject," she replied tartly. "You're supposed to be telling me how to get through to my oh-so-stubborn husband, remember?"

"Have you tried asking your father? I imagine Sparhawk would be more of an authority on this subject than I am."

"I tried. He just tells me that I chose to take a form that would require I grow up, and that this is part of being an adult and a princess," Danae grumped, throwing herself down on one of the many benches that lined the courtyard.

Eriond frowned. "He's right you know. And princesses don't flop, Danae. Nor do goddesses," he reprimanded her.

Danae stuck her tongue out. "You've spent too much time with Polgara. And I should have known you'd take father's side in this."

"Because you know we're both right. Look," he asked as he sat down next to her, "have you tried asking Talen why he objects so much? You can't hope to convince him if you don't know why he's objecting in the first place."

"No. . ." Danae replied sheepishly. "I guess I should do that, shouldn't I?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Thank you, dear brother, I'll go try that." With a quick kiss on Eriond's cheek, Danae trotted off. Eriond shook his head in amusement. Even he wasn't immune to her kisses. Talen didn't stand a chance.

Fandom: Lackey's Valdemar/X-Men crossover
Characters: Tarma, Keth, Warrl & Logan
--

The creature lay unmoving in the small clearing in the stand of trees. It was fortunate it was not winter, or Tarma would have worried about it (him?) freezing to death. But as it was late spring, predators - four legged and two - were the biggest concern.

"Changechild?" she quietly asked her partner.

"Hmm," Kethry replied, a frown marring her normally cheerful face. "I would say yes - there is something decidedly animalistic about this one - but there is no trace of magic at all."

"None at all? Strange, this close to the Peligars."

:None, Mindmate,: Warrl confirmed. :It is as if he has never been exposed to magic. At least not as we know it.:

The creature moaned, cutting off further discussion. With silent hand signals, Tarma sent Kethry and Warrl out of sight. Tarma leaned against a tree and waited for the creature to awaken.

The creature groaned again and half propped himself up on his elbows. "Ugh, did anyone catch the number of the truck that just ran me over?" he asked, shaking his head as if trying to clear it.

Tarma was mildly surprised that she could understand him, but replied in the same common trade tongue. "I know not of what you speak, stranger, but if you are in need of assistance, I shall provide what I can."

Faster than Tarma could believe, she found herself pinned against the tree by three wicked-looking daggers, one on either side of her neck, one just barely touching her throat. She blinked once, her only sign of surprise. Then in another heartbeat, Tarma's own dagger was at the stranger's throat.

"See, I can do that too," she said coldly. "Although mine are not attached. Tell me, do you find it to be a great advantage, having your daggers embedded into your hand?"

With a snort that Tarma suspected was a sign of amusement, the stranger stepped back, and she watched in fascination as the blades retreated into his hand and the cuts rapidly healed.

"Occasionally," he replied. "Sure beats having them out of reach when I need them. Does make them tough to throw, though."

The corner of Tarma's mouth twitched. "Shall we try introductions again, this time without the edged weaponry? I am Tarma shena Tale'sedrin, Swordsworn of the Warrior. Not that I expect that to mean anything to you."

"Huh. Name's Logan. And you're right, it doesn't mean anything to me. Why don't you ask the other two to come out here so we can all be properly introduced."

"I'm impressed, Mr. Logan," Kethry said, stepping back into the clearing. "Most people would not have detected our presence. I am called Kethry."

"'m not most people," Logan replied with a shrug, eying the mage with faint curiosity.

:No, you are not, warrior,: Warrl said, appearing at Tarma's side. :I am known as Warrl.:

To his credit, Logan seemed to be barely phased by the kyree. He merely gave Warrl a hard look and then muttered "Great, another damned telepath," mostly under his breath.

"I am impressed, sir," Tarma said with a chuckle. "Most people react to our strange little group much more than you have."

Logan gave her another long, considering stare. "One of my fr- someone I know is 6 feet tall, weighs 400 pounds and is covered in bright blue fur. Another can shoot lasers out of his eyes," he finally said in an off-hand manner. "My definition of 'weird' ain't what most peoples is." He paused and looked around. "So you wanna tell me where the hell 'here' is and how I got here?"

After a quick glance at Keth and a brief mind-touch with Warrl, Tarma smiled. "If you will come back to our camp with us, we will see about answering all of your questions. I suspect that for every one we answer, it will generate three more."

"Isn't that how it always works?" Logan asked sourly. "Lead on, then, warrior."

Fandom: NCIS/Babylon 5 crossover
Characters: Susan Ivanova & Ziva David
--

"Well, I think that just about covers every possibility, don't you?" Sheridan asked, looking around the table.

"No." The response was oddly stereo, and it took him a minute to realize that it had come from the two women sitting on each side of him.

"Commander? Agent David? You have something to add?"

Ivanova shrugged. "We haven't even mentioned the possibility of telepathic spies, alien technology, spontaneous combustion - "

"Natural disasters, weapons malfunctions, bribery or misunderstand," David picked up right where Susan had left off.

"Did you two rehearse that or something?" Garibaldi asked, bemused.

Ziva David rolled her eyes. "It is merely common sense. I try to operate on the theory that if I can think of it, it could happen. That goes doubly for ways in which a plan could go wrong." Ivanova nodded in agreement.

"Are you two always this pessimistic?" Franklin asked.

Ivanova shrugged. "I am Russian, we don't do optimism," she replied, at the same time David said "I'm Israeli, we have a lot of experience with things going wrong."

Sheridan merely dropped his head into his hands and whimpered quietly.

Fandom: Babylon 5/NCIS crossover
Characters: Marcus & Abby
--

"Can I-"

"No."

"But what if I-"

"No."

"Why not-"

"No."

"B-"

"No."

"Maaaarrrrrcuussssss," Abby whined and pouted so cutely that Marcus had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Then her lower lip began to wobble, and he felt his resolve crumble.

"Look," he said, giving in a little, "it's not that I doubt your ability to learn the controls. I'm sure you'd make a superb pilot with the proper training. But now isn't exactly the best time!" He paused and maneuvered their Mimbari Flyer a little lower into the atmosphere. A quick glance at one display told him that the Earth Alliance vessel was still on their tail.

"And beside," he continued, "it's blastedly hard to fly this thing without learning all three of the Mimbari languages."

"I guess," Abby replied, sounded defeated. Then she sighed. "I just hate feeling so useless."

A quick glance over at his companion told Marcus that she was fighting off tears by stubbornness alone, and he risked taking his hands off the controls to give her a quick hug. The girl had borne up remarkably well under all the pressure, but he could see she was nearing the ends of her reserves.

"You're not useless, Abs. Without you, we would be flying around completely blind. Now we at least have a fighting chance."

"Oh!" she exclaimed with a catch in her voice. "You called me 'Abs'. I didn't think anyone but G-Gibbs would call me that."

"We'll find him," he promised, patting her hand, "we'll get him back."

Fandom: Eddings (Belgariad/Mallorean)/PotC crossover
Characters: Silk & Jack

--

"It's all about the game, really," Silk said confidentially, taking another swig of rum.

"Ab-so-hic-lutely!" Jack agreed. "The game, the chase, the thrill of the hunt."

"Coins are just a way of keeping score. Back home, I have a lot of coins."

"Good on you, mate. I tend to keep score by how many ships I've sunk, but it amounts to the same thing, really. To victory!"

"To victory!" Silk echoed and they clanked their bottles together. He took another drink and tugged on his nose thoughtfully. "So if we're winners in this game of ours, how does that explain why we're stuck here on this little island with a stash of rum, while Liselle and 'lizabeth are off running around with your boat?"

"Ship," Jack corrected absently. "And it doesn't. You see, mate, women have a different set of rules. And they change them when you're not looking."

Silk nodded sagely. That made perfect sense of course. He always knew Liselle was cheating, and said as much.

"Lizzy too," Jack agreed. "Awfully good at what they do, though."

"I'll drink to that."

And so they did.

Fandom: X Files/Highlander crossover
Characters: Scully, Mulder, unnamed former-Immortal
Written for debc 's 2009 fandom_stocking

"Dammit, Mulder," she said as she slammed the folders down on the desk, "these autopsy results make no sense!"

He looked up at her over his glasses with a lazy smirk, which only infuriated her further. She glared at him, but he merely raised one eyebrow and continued to hold her gaze calmly.

With an annoyed huff, she blew an errant piece of hair out of her face and began pacing the small hotel room.

"I know we have seen a lot of strange things together, Mulder, some of which even I am hard-pressed to find an explanation for. I'm even willing to concede that there might - might, mind you - be things out there that our current science cannot explain. However, even I can come up with no reason why I should have found no less than five mutually exclusive causes of death for this John Doe."

The chair which Mulder had habitually tilted back suddenly came forward with a thud.

"What?" he choked out. "Scully, the body was found decapitated. Are you telling me that beheading wasn't the cause of death? It occurred post-mortem?"

Now it was her turn to smirk. "Oh, it very well may have been the cause of death. This time."

"This . . . time . . .?"

"In addition to the beheading - which was certainly done while the John Doe was still alive - this man was shot in the heart at two separate times, took some kind of blade wound to the stomach, and had enough scarring in his lungs to inhibit their function by nearly 80%. Mulder, there is no possible way this man should have been alive to be beheaded."

"This may seem like a nit-picky question, but how do you know he was shot in the heart two separate times? Why not a double-tap?"

Scully pulled two small vials out of her coat pocket and held them up. "Because two different bullets were still in him! I'm no ballistics expert, but even I can tell that one of these," she tossed one of the vials to Mulder, "is probably a musket ball."

Mulder held the vial up to the light, fascinated. It was, as his partner said, a musket ball. Or a reproduction of one.

"We need to get these over to a lab so they can tell us if this thing is modern or 18th century," he said in awe.

"What? You think that in addition to being hard to kill, he's over 200 years old?"

Mulder grinned in the way that always made Scully stomach flip-flop. "Why not?" he asked. "That might explain a lot."

Scully shook her head, but didn't say anything. At least this time her partner was willing to wait for scientific evidence before coming to one of his outlandish conclusions. It wasn't much, but it was a start. Maybe she would be a good influence on him yet.