Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-05-03 03:20 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-05-03 03:20 pm
John/Kate - I Owe Him One
Fandom: Supernatural/LOST
Title: I Owe Him One
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT/PG-13
Characters: Dean Winchester, Kate Austen, mentions of Sam and John, implied past John/Kate
Content Warning: Spoilers for "What Kate Did," "Catch-22," "D. O. C." (LOST), and Season 2 through "Nightshifter" (Supernatural).
Summary: It sucked, to have been hiding so well for this long, but—as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. And she was ready to accept whatever consequences.
Author's Note: Set post-island for Kate, mid season 2 for the boys. Sequel to Just Passin' Through. This probably works as a standalone, but might make more sense if you've read that one first.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of LOST or Supernatural. They're owned by ABC and the CW. However, any and all original characters are mine, so please don't use them without my permission.
It was amazing how quickly they can pick you up once they find out you didn’t really die in a plane crash.
Kate rested her forehead against the window of the car waiting for the FBI agents to come back from whomever else they were busting, thinking back on the past three years of her life. She had spent eight months on the island. How they managed to survive eight months she would never know but they did. Eight months on the dot was when they finally got the chance to go home, but going home did have its costs. She still needed to lay low. She couldn’t settle down, have a family. She needed to keep moving, and keep moving she would. She’d kept moving for two years already.
That didn’t mean she didn’t see people though. She visited Hurley in Los Angeles, Alex and Carl in Florida. Sun and Jin settled down in San Francisco, and Jin’s English was starting to get better than Kate’s was. Claire and the baby settled down in back in Australia, but Kate had seen them the last time she went to visit Hurley. Aaron was getting so big now, toddling on his own. Last she’d heard, Sayid was in New York, and Jack and Juliet settled down somewhere, she wasn’t exactly sure. Juliet had her own private practice while Jack was back to being a spinal surgeon. Desmond went off to find Penny—Kate never realized he was such a romantic. And Sawyer—
Well—not all of them made the eight months. Charlie didn’t make it either. Locke, Bernard and Rose had actually decided to stay with the Others on the island, and for the reasons they had, Kate couldn’t blame them. But she was ready to go home. Although—she didn’t necessarily have a home to go home to. All she knew was that she couldn’t stay on the island. So when the time came—she did left.
She managed to lay low for two years after that. She flew below the radar of the FBI, the US Marshalls, and other forms of law enforcement for two years. Then she witnesses one crime and tries to save a life, and the next thing she knows the FBI’s got a hit on her fingerprints and were banging on her motel door before she could leave town. It sucked, to have been hiding so well for this long, but—as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. And she was ready to accept whatever consequences.
Now she was sitting in the back of their little black Sedan, waiting for them to bring out whoever else they were picking up, and frowned when she saw they were two of them. The two men had at least had the courtesy to roll the windows down when they left her there, so she could hear bits and pieces of their conversation.
“—Hendrickson doesn’t want us to stick them together, afraid they’ll get the slip on him again.”
“So what do you wanna do?”
“Let’s stick one with Austen, and the other one by himself.”
“I want Sam to ride with me,” a tall black man, whom she could only assume was this ‘Hendrickson,’ said as he came out of the precinct, “Put Dean in with the other monster.”
Monster? “Well, excuse the hell out of me,” Kate smirked, chuckling slightly to herself.
“Now, c’mon Hendrickson,” one of the FBI agents who had been handling her—Kingston, maybe?—spoke up, “She ain’t a monster. She’s too pretty.” She grinned. Definitely Kingston. He had been flirting with her the whole way down, and she was flirting back, waiting for the right moment where she could use the flirting to her advantage.
“Pretty or not, you’re forgetting the fact that she murdered someone in cold blood?” Hendrickson replied, “Blew a house up in order to kill someone? That makes a monster in my book.”
“You boys don’t even know what a monster is,” she whispered to no one, looking away from them and leaning back into the seat. The cuffs around her wrists weren’t as tight as they usually were—these agents seemed to like her, felt like being nice to her. Probably because she cooperated, didn’t try to run once they had her cornered. She knew she needed to go with them. Time to pay for her sins.
She didn’t turn away from the window until a warm body was shoved into the car next to her, the cool leather of his jacket brushing against her arm. She turned to look at him, and frowned when he saw his face. He didn’t look strikingly familiar, but there were pieces of him that she felt she had seen once upon a time, but she couldn’t quite place where.
“Kate Austen,” she sighed, extending one cuffed hand to him. He stared at her for a minute, and she frowned.
“I figured since that guy out there seems to think we’re both monsters, we might as well get to know each other,” she sighed, “But of you’re gonna blow me off—”
“No, sorry,” he shook his head, before flashing her a quick grin, “I’m just a little paranoid.” He wasn’t a bad looking guy, but there was something else that tugged at her, made her think. Something in his voice that reminded her of someone she knew, once upon a time. He cleared his throat, and she realized that she had been staring at him.
“Sorry,” she sighed, “You remind me of someone I knew once.”
“Oh,” he nodded, “Anyway—Dean Winchester.”
Winchester? That name brought her back to a large pick-up truck and a tall gruff man who seemed to have lost something good a long time ago. Back when she was still running. Back before the island. She gave him a small smile, before speaking again.
“Do you happen to know a John Winchester?”
Dean was taken aback, the paranoid look returning to his eyes, “My father’s name was John.”
“And her frequented a Roadhouse in Nebraska,” she frowned for a minute, biting her lip, “Can’t remember the name of it now but—”
“The Harvelle Roadhouse?” Dean said, the paranoid look worsening.
“Yes!” Kate’s face lit up with a smile, “Your dad—I met him once. He actually knew me as Lucy, but—yeah.”
“Really?” Dean nodded.
“Yeah,” she grinned, “How is he? Have you talked to him recently?”
He frowned slightly, looking down at his hands, “My father died late last year.”
It was suddenly her turn to look down at her hands, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” he shook his head, “You didn’t know.” She gave him a small smile before turning her head back to the window and watching the trees as they sped by. She could feel Dean watching her, studying her. She turned back to him for a minute, and gave him a small smile.
“Can I ask you a question?” she sighed, “It might be just as uncomfortable as the ones I asked before.”
He shrugged, “Go ahead.”
“Your father—” She paused, trying to choose her words carefully, “—he mentioned a woman named Mary.” She paused again, trying to judge his reaction, “Mind if I ask who she was?”
Dean swallowed before he responded, “Mary was my mother. She died in a fire when I was four.”
“I’m sorry,” Kate sighed, before taking a beat and tacking on, “Again.”
He chuckled slightly, before shaking his head, “It’s alright.”
There was a long pause as the car drove away, before Dean turned to look at her again, “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”
“I’m sorry?” she frowned, still not quite used to getting that question.
“You were on that plane that went down in the Pacific,” Dean frowned, “It was all over the news.”
“Oceanic Flight Eight-Fifteen?” she replied softly.
“Yeah,” he nodded, “I thought there were no survivors.”
“Things aren’t always what they appear to be,” she said softly before looking up at him with a smile, “So what’d you do to land yourself back here with me?”
“They’re accusing me of three counts of first degree murder, assault, fraud, and grave robbing,” he nodded.
“Not bad,” she nodded.
“How ‘bout you?”
“I blew up a house,” she sighed, “And there was someone still inside.”
“You have a good reason?”
“Guy was a drunk,” she said, a bitter tone climbing into her voice, “Beat up on my mom a lot. I did it to protect her.” She paused and glanced away from him to the window again, “She turned me in.”
“That must have hurt,” Dean nodded.
“Yeah, but—it’s OK,” Kate nodded, before turning back to him, “You said ‘accused’—you didn’t do it?”
“It’s complicated, and kinda crazy,” Dean shook his head, “But no, I didn’t. Not the murder and assault anyway.”
Kate glanced up at the other agents, before leaning into his shoulder and whispering, “You wanna bust outta here?”
Dean gave her a look like she was crazy, but dropped his voice with her, “You’re kidding me right?”
Kate shook her head, “Nope. I’ve gotten out of worse. Just gotta wait for the right moment.”
“Why?” he frowned.
“Let’s just say I’m not really for wrongful imprisonment,” Kate said with a smirk.
“So you believe me—that I didn’t do it?”
“There a reason I shouldn’t?” she replied, giving him a look.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I knew your dad,” she said softly, “He helped me out when I was in a jam once—not necessarily as big as the one you’re in, but he did help me. Let’s just say I owe him.”
Dean grinned at her slightly, before glancing back through the window at the car behind him, “We’re not leaving without Sammy.”
“Sam? That the other guy you were with?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, “My brother.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t leave people behind.”
Dean nodded, his grin widening, “You seemed pretty happy with where you were when I got in the car. What changed your mind?”
She shrugged slightly, before looking out the window again. “I dunno. Maybe I’m not done running yet.”
Title: I Owe Him One
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: FRT/PG-13
Characters: Dean Winchester, Kate Austen, mentions of Sam and John, implied past John/Kate
Content Warning: Spoilers for "What Kate Did," "Catch-22," "D. O. C." (LOST), and Season 2 through "Nightshifter" (Supernatural).
Summary: It sucked, to have been hiding so well for this long, but—as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. And she was ready to accept whatever consequences.
Author's Note: Set post-island for Kate, mid season 2 for the boys. Sequel to Just Passin' Through. This probably works as a standalone, but might make more sense if you've read that one first.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of LOST or Supernatural. They're owned by ABC and the CW. However, any and all original characters are mine, so please don't use them without my permission.
It was amazing how quickly they can pick you up once they find out you didn’t really die in a plane crash.
Kate rested her forehead against the window of the car waiting for the FBI agents to come back from whomever else they were busting, thinking back on the past three years of her life. She had spent eight months on the island. How they managed to survive eight months she would never know but they did. Eight months on the dot was when they finally got the chance to go home, but going home did have its costs. She still needed to lay low. She couldn’t settle down, have a family. She needed to keep moving, and keep moving she would. She’d kept moving for two years already.
That didn’t mean she didn’t see people though. She visited Hurley in Los Angeles, Alex and Carl in Florida. Sun and Jin settled down in San Francisco, and Jin’s English was starting to get better than Kate’s was. Claire and the baby settled down in back in Australia, but Kate had seen them the last time she went to visit Hurley. Aaron was getting so big now, toddling on his own. Last she’d heard, Sayid was in New York, and Jack and Juliet settled down somewhere, she wasn’t exactly sure. Juliet had her own private practice while Jack was back to being a spinal surgeon. Desmond went off to find Penny—Kate never realized he was such a romantic. And Sawyer—
Well—not all of them made the eight months. Charlie didn’t make it either. Locke, Bernard and Rose had actually decided to stay with the Others on the island, and for the reasons they had, Kate couldn’t blame them. But she was ready to go home. Although—she didn’t necessarily have a home to go home to. All she knew was that she couldn’t stay on the island. So when the time came—she did left.
She managed to lay low for two years after that. She flew below the radar of the FBI, the US Marshalls, and other forms of law enforcement for two years. Then she witnesses one crime and tries to save a life, and the next thing she knows the FBI’s got a hit on her fingerprints and were banging on her motel door before she could leave town. It sucked, to have been hiding so well for this long, but—as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. And she was ready to accept whatever consequences.
Now she was sitting in the back of their little black Sedan, waiting for them to bring out whoever else they were picking up, and frowned when she saw they were two of them. The two men had at least had the courtesy to roll the windows down when they left her there, so she could hear bits and pieces of their conversation.
“—Hendrickson doesn’t want us to stick them together, afraid they’ll get the slip on him again.”
“So what do you wanna do?”
“Let’s stick one with Austen, and the other one by himself.”
“I want Sam to ride with me,” a tall black man, whom she could only assume was this ‘Hendrickson,’ said as he came out of the precinct, “Put Dean in with the other monster.”
Monster? “Well, excuse the hell out of me,” Kate smirked, chuckling slightly to herself.
“Now, c’mon Hendrickson,” one of the FBI agents who had been handling her—Kingston, maybe?—spoke up, “She ain’t a monster. She’s too pretty.” She grinned. Definitely Kingston. He had been flirting with her the whole way down, and she was flirting back, waiting for the right moment where she could use the flirting to her advantage.
“Pretty or not, you’re forgetting the fact that she murdered someone in cold blood?” Hendrickson replied, “Blew a house up in order to kill someone? That makes a monster in my book.”
“You boys don’t even know what a monster is,” she whispered to no one, looking away from them and leaning back into the seat. The cuffs around her wrists weren’t as tight as they usually were—these agents seemed to like her, felt like being nice to her. Probably because she cooperated, didn’t try to run once they had her cornered. She knew she needed to go with them. Time to pay for her sins.
She didn’t turn away from the window until a warm body was shoved into the car next to her, the cool leather of his jacket brushing against her arm. She turned to look at him, and frowned when he saw his face. He didn’t look strikingly familiar, but there were pieces of him that she felt she had seen once upon a time, but she couldn’t quite place where.
“Kate Austen,” she sighed, extending one cuffed hand to him. He stared at her for a minute, and she frowned.
“I figured since that guy out there seems to think we’re both monsters, we might as well get to know each other,” she sighed, “But of you’re gonna blow me off—”
“No, sorry,” he shook his head, before flashing her a quick grin, “I’m just a little paranoid.” He wasn’t a bad looking guy, but there was something else that tugged at her, made her think. Something in his voice that reminded her of someone she knew, once upon a time. He cleared his throat, and she realized that she had been staring at him.
“Sorry,” she sighed, “You remind me of someone I knew once.”
“Oh,” he nodded, “Anyway—Dean Winchester.”
Winchester? That name brought her back to a large pick-up truck and a tall gruff man who seemed to have lost something good a long time ago. Back when she was still running. Back before the island. She gave him a small smile, before speaking again.
“Do you happen to know a John Winchester?”
Dean was taken aback, the paranoid look returning to his eyes, “My father’s name was John.”
“And her frequented a Roadhouse in Nebraska,” she frowned for a minute, biting her lip, “Can’t remember the name of it now but—”
“The Harvelle Roadhouse?” Dean said, the paranoid look worsening.
“Yes!” Kate’s face lit up with a smile, “Your dad—I met him once. He actually knew me as Lucy, but—yeah.”
“Really?” Dean nodded.
“Yeah,” she grinned, “How is he? Have you talked to him recently?”
He frowned slightly, looking down at his hands, “My father died late last year.”
It was suddenly her turn to look down at her hands, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” he shook his head, “You didn’t know.” She gave him a small smile before turning her head back to the window and watching the trees as they sped by. She could feel Dean watching her, studying her. She turned back to him for a minute, and gave him a small smile.
“Can I ask you a question?” she sighed, “It might be just as uncomfortable as the ones I asked before.”
He shrugged, “Go ahead.”
“Your father—” She paused, trying to choose her words carefully, “—he mentioned a woman named Mary.” She paused again, trying to judge his reaction, “Mind if I ask who she was?”
Dean swallowed before he responded, “Mary was my mother. She died in a fire when I was four.”
“I’m sorry,” Kate sighed, before taking a beat and tacking on, “Again.”
He chuckled slightly, before shaking his head, “It’s alright.”
There was a long pause as the car drove away, before Dean turned to look at her again, “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”
“I’m sorry?” she frowned, still not quite used to getting that question.
“You were on that plane that went down in the Pacific,” Dean frowned, “It was all over the news.”
“Oceanic Flight Eight-Fifteen?” she replied softly.
“Yeah,” he nodded, “I thought there were no survivors.”
“Things aren’t always what they appear to be,” she said softly before looking up at him with a smile, “So what’d you do to land yourself back here with me?”
“They’re accusing me of three counts of first degree murder, assault, fraud, and grave robbing,” he nodded.
“Not bad,” she nodded.
“How ‘bout you?”
“I blew up a house,” she sighed, “And there was someone still inside.”
“You have a good reason?”
“Guy was a drunk,” she said, a bitter tone climbing into her voice, “Beat up on my mom a lot. I did it to protect her.” She paused and glanced away from him to the window again, “She turned me in.”
“That must have hurt,” Dean nodded.
“Yeah, but—it’s OK,” Kate nodded, before turning back to him, “You said ‘accused’—you didn’t do it?”
“It’s complicated, and kinda crazy,” Dean shook his head, “But no, I didn’t. Not the murder and assault anyway.”
Kate glanced up at the other agents, before leaning into his shoulder and whispering, “You wanna bust outta here?”
Dean gave her a look like she was crazy, but dropped his voice with her, “You’re kidding me right?”
Kate shook her head, “Nope. I’ve gotten out of worse. Just gotta wait for the right moment.”
“Why?” he frowned.
“Let’s just say I’m not really for wrongful imprisonment,” Kate said with a smirk.
“So you believe me—that I didn’t do it?”
“There a reason I shouldn’t?” she replied, giving him a look.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I knew your dad,” she said softly, “He helped me out when I was in a jam once—not necessarily as big as the one you’re in, but he did help me. Let’s just say I owe him.”
Dean grinned at her slightly, before glancing back through the window at the car behind him, “We’re not leaving without Sammy.”
“Sam? That the other guy you were with?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, “My brother.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t leave people behind.”
Dean nodded, his grin widening, “You seemed pretty happy with where you were when I got in the car. What changed your mind?”
She shrugged slightly, before looking out the window again. “I dunno. Maybe I’m not done running yet.”
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And dude, I love your icon.