Work Text:
Pledge of Allegiance
by vega
Angels are fragile
And devils are hot
And life is a masquerade
Colors will blend
And hearts will all mend
Just tell me you were never afraid.
-'Never Die Young', Lori McKenna
Reprise:
This is the picture.
Another job, another adventure. A brown downhill road from the green of the mountain. Fresh air, bright sunlight. She is walking ahead with Judson, carrying their newfound treasure with a certain amount of satisfaction.
Gabe follows them, out of breath and infinitely happy. His arms stretch to draw both of them into a hug. "The treasure of the Adrianne, right here, right in our hands. Do we rule or what?"
Mac is having a difficult time suppressing laughter. There's definitely no way she'll spoil Gabe's mood when he's like this. "Yes, yes we do."
Drunken in brevity and success, Gabe is beaming in pride, "We belong together. I mean, how can we not? Three of us rule."
"Absolutely," Judson plays along with childish frivolity. "We belong together. Always."
A pledge of allegiance. Laughters. All so very beautiful.
And it ends there.
She remembers now--it was a brilliant morning.
*
Another bar. Different people. She's chased them away after her fifth bottle and now enjoys the peace and quiet at the end of the midnight. Literally and figuratively.
Not for long, however. She feels his presence even before he enters the bar. She keeps drinking for the sake of it, doesn't look up.
He slides into the seat next to hers. Orders, "The same thing she's having."
She snorts. For hours, that's about all she does as a reaction against his presence. At the end of the night, however, he breaks the silence.
"You'll never forgive me." Not a question, just a statement of a fact.
She sees him for the first time in three months and fourteen days. He looks older. Of course he does. She bets she's aged, too. It certainly feels that way.
"Guess not," she tells him, casual. She considers flinging her glass against the mirror wall across the bar table in front of them. It will shatter. She wants it to shatter. "I know you won't, Judson."
He doesn't disagree.
"What went wrong?" he asks after another bottle of scotch, more to himself than to her.
"So many things."
For the first time she's known him, Judson Cross looks lost. "What do we do?"
She doesn't know.
She'd lost many things before she met Judson, and she never mourned for them. Lost a few after, too.
Lost those brilliant mornings.
This time, the rest of her life might as well be spent in mourning.
*
Maybe things always happen in empty factories in the middle of the nights. At least, all the important things. And this event that shapes (changes, twists, and mutilates into demolition) her life into a new unwelcome direction also happens in one of such places.
"Step away from this, Gabe. It's not your fight."
Her warning never seems to stop anyone. And this time is no exception.
Determination sets his jaw into a stiff line. He stands between two people and an object in the middle of them. Gabe will not move a step, that much is certain. "What if it is?"
The word 'exasperation' does not exactly cover what she feels. "Will you just go away? Don't have time or energy to play semantics."
His lips are pressed into a thin, solemn line. "It is my business. You two are my business."
The third figure in this standoff scene steps in. "Not really. Not any more."
"Judson," Gabe begins.
Judson's eyes are focused on hers. Familiar anger still gently burns in them. "No, Gabe. Go back to your clients, back to being the greatest civil lawyer this country has ever seen. Walk away from this."
But Gabe doesn't. He still stands firm, never tremble. It's a cruel cosmic irony that time, the devourer of everything pure and innocence, has yet to touch Gabriel Patterson. She hates the world for many reasons, but for this, she's infuriated.
"I'm not leaving. This has gone long enough, both of you. And you both know it's not anyone's fault. What more do you need? More misunderstanding? More pain? We don't need this after all these years. *I* don't need this."
Well, maybe time *has* changed Gabe. He can now calmly argue the points that he couldn't years ago. A lawyer is a lawyer.
"Maybe you don't, but maybe we do," she tells Gabe while watching Judson for his reaction. No change in his expressionless
face. "Maybe we do want to shed more blood. Vampires that we are."
"Speak for yourself." Judson, unwavering coldness.
"I do," she smiles. Her blood is ice.
Gabe watches this, takes all in. "What will it take to go back? Tell me. What will it take?" his voice begins to break.
"Gabe," Judson sighs, showing the first sign of crack in years, "we can't go back."
"But we can start again." Gabe, a fine picture of unyielding adamancy. "Together, as a team. Starting with this artifact. No need to fight over it. You guys don't even care about this."
True. The reason for the tension between her and Judson has more to do with memories and aches than the competition for this invaluable treasure they each try to claim.
"Too late," she speaks but wonders at the same time--can this end? Can it really?
"Nothing's never too late." Gabe turns to her, eager, hopeful and painfully sincere. "Trust me. You once did. You too, Judson. You trusted me before. Is it too hard to do it again?"
She tries to look away, but Judson is watching her across and beyond. The time, the time, the wretched time. Hatred and love, the two sides of the same coin.
"For me," Gabe asks of them.
And that is one request she and Judson can never really deny. Involuntarily, she feels that the seal is coming undone. It's been too long, too hard, and seeing them again together, she feels her pride slowly denting away, her wall giving in. One look at Judson's face, she knows he's going through the same unraveling.
And Gabe instantly feels this. A small, tentative smile slips into his face. "Let's go eat. Dinner? Okay, more like breakfast now. I'm starving."
There's no way she can't *not* laugh at the absurd suggestion. But why is it absurd? Years ago, they had done this often enough. And it suddenly does feel as if they've come across time again, together. "It depends on one thing," she says, trying not to hope too much and looking at Judson without feeling the familiar ache. A tense moment, but she breaks into a small smile. "Who's paying?"
"Well, I sure am not," Gabe jumps in, now all flippant and happy. He grabs the delicate golden statue between them. "What do you say to impounding this baby and going for some pancakes?"
She looks across at Judson. Let's give this another try. Unspoken words. He nods. She nods. The lost years to mend. Possibilities. It's surprisingly easy to across the gap. Too easy that it hurts. Why haven't they known this before?
They're both about to say yes when Gabe's eyes impossibly widen.
"Judson!"
A shot cuts through time and space, and the empty factory. They all flinch.
She realizes, belatedly, that there are supposed to be others interested in this relic, others coming after this treasure with guns and weapons.
She shoots blindly at the direction where the shot came from. There's a short scream from the far-off window, and a shadow falls onto the ground, lifeless. Then another kind of scream grabs her attention.
"Oh, God."
Judson is on his knees, looking down at Gabe and pressing down at their friend's chest. There's already a puddle of blood. She doesn't know when she, too, has dropped on her knees, sliding across the floor to reach them. She doesn't know when she's begun shaking.
"So this's what it takes, huh?" Gabe faintly smiles through the trace of tears, "I-I don't mind...much."
"Don't speak," Judson orders, beads of sweat on his forehead, "You'll be fine."
She watches, her hands stained with blood. She says nothing, because her lips refuse to move along with the rest of her body.
Gabe chokes out a strained, bloody chuckle, "You two...just stupid."
Judson, trying in vain: "Gabe, no--"
The tears fall against the crimson of the floor. She is captivated by the stark, cruel beauty of this surreal moment, fraught with romance that has never really been a part of her life.
He's dead.
The frozen moment. She sits through time, knowing that being time, being measured into hours, minutes, seconds, will tick its way by.
*
She lives her life. Makes new friends, although they're never really friends and colleagues are just that--colleagues. These days no one crosses the boundary she's set up. No one. Not since.
Gabe doesn't visit, not after their last meeting, but she has his letters and cards for Christmas and her birthdays, all handwritten. She wonders if Judson gets the same cards. She hears about Judson from time to time, even sees him from time to time, all because of the nature of business. But that's just it, time. Time builds the gap, irreconcilable gaps. Sometimes she wonders if she wants a second chance, sometimes she *needs* a second chance, yet there's always the time that stands between. The time that turns love into incomprehensible hatred. The time that turns misunderstanding into a grudging understanding yet offers no solution.
It doesn't have to be forgotten. With time, it just fades away.
And when it's seconds away from fading into oblivion, a friend stands on her porch one night. She doesn't let him in, but opens the door.
There are dark circles under his eyes and a faint scent of smoke that doesn't agree with him, but she can still see the remnants of the boyish third member of the team she's been once a part of. It's suddenly hard to breathe. Time turns tides again and she doesn't want to remember.
He's still heartfelt and sincere, and it's damn annoying. "You still love him," he says. "I know he still loves you. You can mend this. Love isn't supposed to be about pride."
To Gabe, it's simply about forgiving and being forgiven. She wishes it were that simple. It never was.
"Then I guess ours wasn't love." The last word is acidic, burning her throat and tongue before it makes through. "Is that all you came to say?"
No answer. It's been years, yet he still lacks the defense that can protect him from the hurt.
She turns away and closes the door, leaving him alone.
An hour later, while she's putting on the water for hot tea and turning on TV, she sees a lonely figure on her porch, slowly fading amidst the evening fog. He's still here. But if she blinks, then he'll disappear, from her sight, from her mind, from her life. Like Judson.
Suddenly the idea scares her.
She opens her door again. She watches him with her arms crossed. "You're just gonna freeze there all night?"
He looks up, surprise evident on his face.
"Coffee or tea? Don't have any hot chocolate left."
Slowly, a smile finds its way into his face. He follows her in, and she closes the door behind her.
*
"Tell me what went wrong. Please."
"You deserve to know." She has to give him that much. He has been the third member of the team, after all. "But you won't get it from me."
He no longer fights for the answer; he's tried before and knows what a waste of time it is.
"How's work? Still the brightest star of your firm?" she asks politely, like that's the only thing she cares enough to ask to him.
It's insulting, and he notices it. But Gabe is not someone who'd find offense there, at least not from the people he cares about. He smiles cordially. "Fading into a lower magnitude, there're plenty of other stars. You? Still one of the most ruthless and greatest relic hunters?"
The word 'ruthless' comes across only as factual, and it is. "Nah, probably the second or third?"
They don't talk about Judson. Gabe wants to, but that would mean she'll push him away again, and he knows it well. She can't understand why he's come to see her again. It's as if he believes he can put them back together again. He probably does it too when he goes to see Judson. She's busy with her new gig, and she definitely doesn't need this. She tells him so.
"It's only been a few years. We can still go back."
Jesus Christ. He just doesn't give up, does he? She thinks this is the time to beat some senses into him.
"Gabe, there had been others I worked with before I worked with Judson and you, but I let them go and I still don't give a damn about them. What makes you think you're any different from them?"
Her question stings him and it shows. He lacks the defense to answer her vehement question without revealing how much that hurts. "I don't know. Maybe because you're different to me. You and Judson. You guys are special."
He tries to smile, like it doesn't matter, like it doesn't hurt when she throws his sincerity away like garbage. He probably doesn't know that he also breaks her heart, again and again, just by smiling in front of her.
Judson doesn't smile for her. Never again, probably.
The reminder is too painful even for her hardened thing called heart.
"I don't want to see you again, Gabe."
She closes the door in his face.
*
"It was an acceptable casualty."
"And who decides that? *You*?" It's a scream that cuts through her heart. Judson looks so broken, so angry. He's made of rage, burning and scorching.
She stands over the bodies of the men she's killed. Wonders what she can tell him. Wonders what she can't.
What she can and can't tell him--I killed them to protect you? Because as a friend and a colleague I might be able to withstand losing you, but as a lover, can't? It will destroy him as much as it will destroy her. She knows that much.
So she says, "Someone has to decide. Since you can't."
He turns stone cold, and it's over. She's dealt a death blow.
She might have avoided destroying them altogether, but it's still death she has dealt with, and like she's learned long before, she can never get away clean from death. Never. Judson can't save her when she can't save herself.
They break.
*
"I can't decide whether to make the yacht bulletproof or soundproof."
She raises her eyebrow, her hand still on Judson's cheek and stopped on the way for a kiss. "Meaning?"
"Meaning, Gabe's room is right beside ours. He can hear us."
She groans. She loves Gabe like a brother, but at this moment, she honestly, really wishes him somewhere else. This romance thing she's got going with Judson isn't going so well with a third wheel around.
And at that opportune moment, there's a loud, conspicuous cough outside. Judson, hurryingly putting on his shirt, gets up to open the door. If she doesn't know better, she'd think the man is blushing furiously. "Uh, Gabe?" Judson half stutters, "What is it?"
Gabe is standing outside their room, holding a backpack and looking entirely too sheepish.
"Where are you going?" Mac asks, instantly feeling guilty. He hasn't actually read her mind, has he?
"Getting a room. Actually, according to a popular phrase, you two are supposed to get a room, but I'm a nice guy, so guess I'll have to go to give you two some privacy."
"Gabe, you don't have to--"
"Oh, shush. I want two of you to make lots of cute babies and stuff. And I definitely don't want to be around when you two fight-- you both are the type who will just never forgive. I can already sense the destruction of properties coming. So, Mac, Judson," Gabe bows down in a hyperbolic theatrical fashion, "Have a great, great time. And do what I wouldn't do."
Gabe grabs his bag, and with a cute smile, disappears.
Judson closes the door, can't hide the smirk. "Such an understanding friend we have."
"Mmm-hmm," she says, at the moment stretched across the bed and not really caring about anything else, "Come to bed, Judson."
He complies gladly.
This is the first night of many nights that are to come that they have the Vast Explorer only for themselves. A couple of weeks later, Gabe permanently moves out, giving out blessings for them.
It's regrettable, not having the team like they had before, not having Gabe around like before, but Gabe's still helping out from time to time, and Judson and Mac believe they've gained something better, something extremely passionate, instead.
After all, things change.
*
"I don't want things to change. Things are great as they are now."
One day, Gabe takes an impossible undertaking of complaining about changes that always come with time.
Judson laughs, indulging the urge to chide her young friend. "They're supposed to."
"But they don't have to. Not us."
"Gabe, everything is eventual. Things change."
She watches her friends, and she can feel Judson's gaze on her. He's smiling, and underneath that smile, there's something more than friendship and bond. Something stronger. Something fervent. And she likes it. God knows she's needed this for a long time. She smiles back coyly.
She can sense it.
Things will change.
*
Reprise:
This is the picture.
Another job, another adventure. A downhill road from the green of the mountain. Fresh air, bright sunlight. She is walking ahead with Judson, carrying their newfound treasure with a certain amount of satisfaction.
Gabe follows them, out of breath and infinitely happy. His arms stretch to draw both of them into a hug. "The treasure of the Adrianne, right here, right in our hands. Do we rule or what?"
Mac is having a difficult time suppressing laughter. There's definitely no way she'll spoil Gabe's mood when he's like
this. "Yes, yes we do."
Drunken in brevity and success, Gabe is beaming in pride, "We belong together. I mean, how can we not? Three of us rule."
"Absolutely," Judson plays along with childish frivolity. "We belong together. Always."
A pledge of allegiance. Laughters. All so very beautiful.
It is a brilliant morning.
It will not be forgotten.
THE END
Note and apology: Just for the heck of it, and maybe because I have some time on my hands before the school starts again, I decided to see if I could write a Mac/Judson. Turned out the only way I could really write it was in a very skewed and extremely pragmatic way, plus not even all that romantic. Heartfelt apologies to anyone who's expected something fluffier, and for totally sanctifying Gabe to feed my own obsession. :sheepish: