Title: Gone But Not ForgottenAuthor: Amazon X
E-mail: yankeestarbuck@yahoo.com
Website: http://yankeestarbuck.tripod.com
Feedback: Why, yes, thank you!
Category: NickZone challenge, Once a Thief, het-sorta
Rating: Anyone, for ghostly
Summary: "Vic was the nice one," Dobrinsky said.
Archive: Full House Slash, WWOMB, NickZone, FONL
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, I have no money.
Notes: This was a Dr. Ruthless challenge, a dead NLC haunts the living. I watched all 22 hours of "Once a Thief" WAY too many times...this was fun!
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"Yeah, that Vic, I miss him," Dobrinsky mused, putting the huge file into a box, along with Mac and LiAnn's files. It had been weeks since the agents had perished in the explosion meant to kill the Director, but neither had the desire to empty the agents' apartments, nor remove their records from the agency library. But the Head had said it was time.
Dobrinsky and the Director were going through the boxes of clothes, furnishings and other personal effects of Mac Ramsey and LiAnn Tsei until they got to Victor Mansfield's things. The Director took his leather jacket into her hands and raised it to her face. A lung full of Vic, like a narcotic. Yes, she'd spent time in his bed, as she did with all her agents, boys and girls alike. But Vic was different. He acted as if the brief relationship had meaning. He cooked for her, always had a decent bottle of champagne chilled for afterward, or for play before hand, and he was the only one who sang to her. And he was genuinely hurt when she moved onto the next agent.
She pulled out the small box with all of his cassettes, some handmade and marked with his tiny scrawl: Muddy Waters, Son Seals, Albert Collins, B.B. King. She dropped them back in and went on to the collection of books. She came across a well-read copy of "Serpico". He did love being a cop.
"Vic was the nice one," Dobrinsky said, bringing the Director out of her reverie of memories.
"If you say so. He was incredibly boring and headstrong."
The lights suddenly went out.
"Is there something wrong with the wiring in this room, Dobrinsky?" she asked. She could hear the man fumbling in the darkness. But the lights didn't return. Dobrinsky did, however, with a flashlight.
"Here, take this. I checked the breakers and the room should be working. I don't know what's wrong, but I'll go get maintenance on it."
The Director shined the light in Dobrinsky's face. "You know something, Dobrinsky, Victor would have had this problem solved by now, wouldn't he?" she said, smooth as cognac.
"Oh?" he asked, not so sure she was correct.
The lights returned. "See?" The smirk on her face was undeniable.
"Do you have a remote?" he asked, while trying to see under the table.
Holding up her perfectly manicured hands, the Director said, "Wasn't me. Was it, Victor?"
The lights again went out.
"That's enough, Victor. You're scaring Dobrinsky."
On. "How are you doing that?" Dobrinsky demanded.
"I'm not. It's Victor."
"Well, fine, you and Victor can finish sorting through this mess. I'm getting out of here."
He headed toward the door. "Not so fast, Dobrinsky. I need you to move these boxes."
Halfway across the room, he called over his shoulder, "Forget it. I'm gone!"
"Victor!" she shouted and one of the large conference chairs was shoved under the door handle. Dobrinsky took a step back into the room, stumbling down the stairs, but still staying upright.
"Which...uh...which boxes do you want moved?" he asked.
"Just this one," she said, pointing at the closed box of Victor's clothing, minus the jacket.
"What about the rest of this stuff?" he asked, hefting the box into his arms, watching the chair coast gently down the few steps back to the table.
"Leave it to me. I'll take care of it myself. Thank you."
Dobrinsky nodded and left her alone in the room. Taking a Muddy Water's tape, the Director popped it into the deck of the entertainment system behind her and let the soft sounds of Victor's memory float over her. She pulled the jacket over her and sat back in her chair, closing her eyes.
"Yes, Victor, I did love you. I always will."
The lights dimmed except the one shining over his chair. The Director walked to the chair and sat in it. And cried.
The End
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