[PG-13]
yIjatlhQo', tIq
by Sasscat
Between the Klingons and Armando Langoustini, her life didn't seem like her own most of the time. As a child, Victoria had dreamed of painting pretty pictures and telling off bullies. She'd never planned on butting heads with alien wannabes, or fraternising with prominent mafia figures. Nor had she planned on becoming lieutenant of her own district in Chicago – the 27th - with all the headaches that involved. But somehow that was the way things had turned out.
Add that to Detective Thatcher's abduction and the recent spate of visitors from - apparently - alternate universes, and it was no small wonder that she was a little frazzled.
Frazzled. God. Frazzled was when she bawled out her detectives over trivial details. Frazzled was when she couldn't make herself breakfast without dropping every plate in the apartment. Frazzled was *not* when her brain cut out on her and she kissed Langoustini! That was sheer, unadulterated lunacy.
She'd kissed Armando Langoustini.
Victoria ran a hand through her hair, trying to settle herself. This wasn't a good time to be thinking about it; she was in the car and she wasn't a medal-winning driver at the best of times. But she could hardly *not* think about it. It was probably the most idiotic thing she'd ever done in her life, on a par with dating Tooth and applying to the Academy.
Come to think of it, Langoustini was a much better kisser than Tooth. Of course, both of them were killers. Dangerous men. Maybe she had mental problems; that would explain a lot.
Oh, God. She'd kissed Armando Langoustini. Sure, she'd always been aware that he was a reasonably attractive man, but he was a *mobster*! And she was a cop, or supposed to be one.
Her cellphone rang. No, not hers, she realised, the other one. Direct line to Langoustini. Victoria reached for it, then hesitated. Visions of their last meeting played through her mind. The man was a criminal. She'd be insane to continue with this. She dropped her hand and let it ring.
A few seconds after it finally stopped, she took it out anyway. Ignoring the Bookman's call was pretty insane in and of itself. She hit speed dial with a sigh.
Langoustini's cold voice greeted her almost immediately. "That better be you."
"Where do you want to meet?" she said, keeping her voice neutral.
"Number three. Room 2409. Five minutes."
"So soon?"
"You're on your way home anyway."
That was a warning. They were watching her. Victoria shivered, and tucked the cellphone away. Number three - the Hotel California, which meant Langoustini probably expected a repeat of their last meeting. She took a breath, held it for four seconds, and slowly breathed out her tension. It would be okay. She'd make it okay. She ran a hand through her hair and headed for the hotel.
The room was empty, as she'd expected. Langoustini knew she liked to be there first. She made her usual sweep for surveillance gear, knowing that if there was any, there was a good chance it was better hidden than could be found in a casual search. Langoustini arrived before she was finished, but she pretended to ignore him, although her body was keenly aware of his presence.
Finally she faced him, to show that she was done. Immediately he came to check her for a wire. His hands roamed over her in feather-light touches, leaving no part of her unexamined. Bastard was undoubtedly enjoying this, but then, so was she. Victoria closed her eyes, wondering if it would be so bad just to give in to his touch... Of course it would. She took a breath, steeling herself for his reaction. "I want to end our association."
His fingers paused. His head came up, green eyes boring into hers. Oh God, she really *had* grown attracted to him. "And why is that?"
/You're not good for me./ "Does it matter?" she asked levelly.
"It does if you're planning to betray me."
"I thought you had a better respect for my intelligence."
"The cops I know aren't big on intelligence." Langoustini moved away from her. "You're free to make your own choices. However, there's the small matter of a debt to be repaid."
She'd expected that. The question was what he'd ask of her. "I understand."
"You've been known to work with the Klingon Consulate."
She hadn't expected that. "On occasion, yes," she admitted, "although it's hardly easy. The Consul is notoriously stubborn."
"I'm sure you'll find a way to persuade him," Langoustini said smoothly. "I need two entry permits to Kronos."
"Qo'noS," Victoria said, a little wary of where this might be heading. She could still vaguely remember when it had been California. God, that made her feel old.
Langoustini ignored her correction. "You will get those permits. One is for me, one is for you."
"Me?" she blurted, startled.
"I'll need a translator. I'm sure you can arrange some holiday time. It'll only take a couple of days." He put his hands on her shoulders, and she tensed. "This is a very important business trip to me, Victoria. Do this, and your debt is repaid."
He couldn't be serious. "You want me to help you seal a deal," she said incredulously. How could he ask that of her?
"Do this," he repeated, "and your debt is repaid."
Oh, God. She had to get out, and she had to make sure he couldn't use any of this against her. She could easily see a way to do that, but how far would she have to go? Would he stop at asking her to be a passive translator?
"I suppose I have no choice," she said in a low voice. "When do you want to go?"
Langoustini gave her a cold, hard smile. "Smart girl."
--
"No," Kowalski said in Klingon. "We've already refused him. Why are you helping him?"
Direct as always, Victoria reflected ruefully. She picked the only words that might be likely to sway him, speaking in Klingon as well because she needed every possible advantage right now. "It's a matter of honour."
"Honour?" The Consul gave a short bark of laughter. "Just because I'm a Klingon doesn't mean I don't know who that man is, Sogh Metcalfe. Tell me, what possible hold could..." he hesitated, trying to remember the word, then shrugged and invented one, "a _mavI'ngan_ have on your honour?"
"I owe him a debt," she said quietly, not denying Langoustini's mafia involvement. "As repayment, he asked me to get him into the Independent State of Qo'noS. It's just a short trip."
"A business trip," Kowalski retorted. "We do not want that kind of business."
"It's a matter of honour," Victoria repeated. Not to mention personal safety.
"Your honour," he said with a shrug. "So far you haven't given me a good reason to change my mind about this man."
She was screwed. "I should have expected this," she said angrily. "Any other Klingon would just sign the damn forms without looking at them. Do you really believe the rest of them care about honour?"
"They're *Klingons*."
"When was the last time you were in Qo'noS? They're *Americans*. Just moving out of the country doesn't change that. They're all as corrupt as the man you're trying to protect them from." She pushed her hair away from her face in frustration. "You may have the luxury of living in your own little world, but I have to live in the *real* world, and it's my life on the line here! Do you think your precious honour is going to make a difference? He'll just find another way, and I'll pay the price for your damn virtue."
Kowalski glared at her and for a second she thought he might hit her. It was no coincidence that the Klingon word for virtue was the same as the word for doing battle. However, all he said was, "If I do this for you, you owe *me* a debt."
"I can live with that," she said in English, feeling her muscles lose a tension she hadn't realised they'd held.
"Possibly," he muttered. "You don't want the papers sent to the station."
"No." She rubbed her eyes. "Send them to my... associate. I'll be back to arrange accommodation and anything else we need."
Kowalski glanced at some of the papers on his desk. "It's my duty to inform you that while you're there you agree to abide by Klingon law and submit to the decisions of the Klingon justices... baH baH baH... you know the drill. You could tell him I wouldn't write the permits."
Victoria shook her head. "I have to do this. Thank you for your assistance, jojlu' Kowalski." She started towards the door.
"Lieutenant," Kowalski called after her, and she almost tripped over her feet. It was extraordinarily rare that he spoke to her in English. "I know that I... seem difficult to work with. I just... I want you to know that I hold nothing but respect for you." He walked to her and put his palm over her chest. "You have the heart of a Klingon. I've been honoured to know you."
"Your concern is unnecessary," she said, touched. "I have no intention of letting this man kill me." That much was true, at least. "That's why I'm taking this trip." She paused, then added in Klingon, "Besides, 'it is a good day to die.'"
"Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam," Kowalski repeated, closing his eyes for a moment.
He lifted his hand from her chest and touched the back of it to her cheek.
"Be careful, Metcalfe; I'd hate to have to train a new lieutenant."
"I'll try not to inconvenience you," she said drily. For a Klingon, Kowalski wasn't so bad.
--
"You've got us here a day early," Langoustini observed, looking around the hotel room - room, singular, which had raised Kowalski's eyebrows until Victoria had pointed out that it was the only way to get a comfortable bed in Qo'noS. "What are we supposed to do while we wait?"
The way he looked at her left her in no doubt as to his ideas on how best to spend the afternoon. Victoria had other plans. "I have to go into town and familiarise myself with the language."
"You already know the language," he said suspiciously. Langoustini suspicious was like a cobra irritated. She tried not to look nervous.
"I only speak it to Consul Kowalski, about a very limited number of subjects. The best way to refresh my knowledge is to get out there and listen to the native speakers." As much as any of the older generation could be 'native' speakers.
Langoustini 'hmph'ed slightly, but looked less suspicious. "I'll come with you."
"No. You don't know the laws well enough. It's far too easy to get arrested here, and Klingon justice is brutal and irrevocable." Victoria held his gaze firmly. She was *not* backing down on this one.
He seemed to sense her determination, because he didn't press the issue. "I have business to take care of, anyway."
Victoria nodded, and left the room as he opened his suitcase. She didn't really want to know what 'business' he might be working on. She had business of her own to take care of.
First she went to her sister's grave. She ran her fingers over the rough inscription, wishing she could read Klingon. It had always seemed enough just to know the words. Maybe that was why Tooth had--
Didn't matter. That was years in the past. She took a breath and looked down at the grassy grave. "Everything I want to say to you I said after your funeral," she said softly, "but I do miss you. Even after what you did."
"Yes, well, we all miss her," came a sarcastic Klingon voice from behind her.
Victoria carefully didn't let her body tense. She switched to Klingon, thinking with a smile that if Langoustini could hear her he'd know she didn't need any practice. "Where do you want to talk, Ho'?"
"There's a nice cafe a short drive away." Tooth was dressed in full Klingon regalia - metallic tunic, sash, spiked boots. It didn't suit his pallid complexion.
"Define 'nice'," she retorted, following him to his car.
"That depends if you've managed to acquire a taste for gagh yet."
Victoria swallowed the bile that rose within her at that thought. She didn't pay much attention to Klingon culinary advances, but she'd heard they'd managed to find a species of worm that supposedly tasted quite good live. She wasn't keen on trying it. "I'll settle for a drink."
"The blood wine is good, considering they're too weak to put blood in it." Tooth waited for her to get in, then started the car. "I was surprised to hear from you."
"It won't happen again, I assure you."
"Still bitter?"
"Still sane."
"Not from what I hear," he remarked, with a cold smile not unlike the Bookman's best. "Tell me about Langoustini."
"At the cafe," Victoria stalled. She had to figure out exactly how to phrase this. If she'd thought it was hard getting Kowalski to help her, Tooth would be impossible.
--
When she finally returned to the hotel, Langoustini was channel-surfing, looking more and more annoyed with each flick of the remote. She crossed the room and switched it onto the English channels for him. "Klingons are very proud of their culture, but they're also suckers for ER," she said with a smile.
"Well, that Nurse Hathaway is a very attractive woman," Langoustini said, smiling back. She took a breath and reminded herself that he was a dangerous man. "Sit down, relax. Have you eaten?"
"A little, if you consider what I swallowed food." At least she'd diverted Tooth from his obsession over whether or not he could get her to eat gagh. "I brought some real food from America."
"Smart girl," Langoustini said admiringly. "What am I going to do without you?"
"I'm sure you'll think of something," said Victoria, moving away under the excuse of unpacking food.
"Then you haven't changed your mind."
"And I'm not planning to." She unscrewed the lid of a thermos of chicken soup, running on the assumption that everyone liked chicken soup. Except probably Tooth.
Behind her, Langoustini changed the subject. "So tell me, why is it that someone who was interested enough in this culture to learn the language didn't move to be with everyone else who spoke the language?"
Victoria laughed slightly. "I was never interested in this culture. My boyfriend was, and I would have done anything to impress him. We learned the language together. After we broke up, I decided not to forget it. Knowledge is power."
"I'll drink to that," Langoustini said cheerfully. "Is that chicken and mushroom?"
"Just chicken." She filled two plastic mugs and brought them over to the sofa.
"'S a shame." He took his mug from her and drank. Victoria watched the movements of his throat as he swallowed; the long, lean lines of his body; the way his tongue played over his lips to wipe them clean of the thick broth. Damn. She looked away and took a sip of her own soup.
The near-scalding heat helped clear her mind. "So," she said casually, "what are our plans for tomorrow?"
Langoustini tilted his head briefly. "We have breakfast, meet my client, and hopefully close the deal. You'll know more when you need to."
"Anyone would think you didn't trust me," Victoria remarked, stretching out. She propped one leg up on the coffee table and crossed the other over it. Surely it couldn't hurt to enjoy his eyes on her a little.
"You've made your loyalties quite clear," Langoustini said, piercing her with his eyes for a moment before returning his gaze to her legs. The chill was gone from his voice just as suddenly as it had appeared. "Besides, I didn't think it was trust you wanted from me."
Well, that was true enough. She drank some more of her soup and pretended to fix her eyes on the television. Just a day or two more, and this would be over. And if part of her didn't like that thought, then, well, it was probably time to get her head examined again.
"You know, Victoria," said Langoustini, "if the only reason you're backing out is because you're attracted to me, I'm sure I can find better reasons for you to stay."
"It's not just that," Victoria said, and winced as she realised that she'd admitted that it was partly that. Well, hell, it wasn't like he didn't know it anyway. "It's too dangerous."
"I could make it more dangerous for you to turn your back on me."
Victoria looked at him sharply, but there was no threat in his voice, just a cool statement of fact. "But then I'd resent you. You'd never be able to trust my information."
"True enough," he acknowledged, lifting his mug slightly. "Of course, if it wasn't your information I was after..." He finished his soup, surveying her over the rim of the mug.
Her pulse quickened. Every nerve in her body was screaming out at the danger. She would have to tread very, very carefully here, whether he meant the warning or was just trying to rattle her. "Well, then," she said as casually as she could manage, "I guess it would depend on whether you wanted me willingly or coerced into it."
"Well, you are awfully cute when you're angry." Langoustini gave her a predatory smile. He took her half-finished soup and put it and his own mug on the floor by the sofa.
Victoria took her feet off the coffee table, unsure whether or not to let this happen. She wanted it, there was no doubt about that. But tactically speaking... She wasn't sure. Langoustini was hard to predict.
He fingered the collar of her blouse, then ran his hand over her skin to the top button. She caught her breath, but she didn't push him away. Just once would be all right, wouldn't it? She knew she was getting out anyway, so just once... just once...
She clung to that thought as she followed him into the bedroom.
--
The meet with Langoustini's client was in the very hotel they were staying at. The client was a short, dark-skinned Klingon with bleached hair down to his shoulders. He identified himself only as tlhIngan.
Victoria reeled off the terms Langoustini had instructed her to begin with, refusing to think about what she was doing. If she was a decent cop she would never have gotten involved with Langoustini to start with. This was just one more step down the road to damnation. Hopefully it would be the last one.
tlhIngan immediately produced a sheet of paper covered in unfamiliar letters, and Victoria shook her head. "tlhIngan Hol vIlaDlaHbe'. I can't read Klingon."
tlhIngan muttered something disparaging and explained the sheet – the proposal his associates had authorised him to offer. His terms verged on insulting. Even Victoria knew the Iguana family would never allow Klingons such control. They'd find another contact to handle their business in Qo'noS if it came down to it. Still, she dutifully translated the Klingon's words.
"Not acceptable," Langoustini said flatly, as she'd known he would. He outlined a new plan, one that - as far as she could tell - wasn't much different from his original proposal.
They argued for the better part of the morning, talking about drugs and contract killings and money laundering. It was enough to make her head spin. The sheer volume of information Langoustini was allowing her to overhear was... quite frankly, more than a little worrying. She was probably the only non-Klingon in the world to speak the language, apart from that singer they were so fond of, but he would have found a way to hire a Klingon translator if it was that important. But instead he was letting her hear it all, knowing that she was cutting off their arrangement, knowing that he couldn't expect her to keep it to herself.
She kept her eyes down and her voice crisp and even. The Klingons believed that their translators were not people; they were tools, to do the dirty work of their superiors. She would not listen to herself, to what she was aiding. She would be a tool, with no guilt, no regret, no fear.
The ring of her cellphone was a welcome interruption. She pulled it out immediately, ignoring the combined glares of Langoustini and tlhIngan. "Metcalfe." She turned away slightly, shielding the conversation from them. "I'm on *holiday*, for Christ's sake. Don't you people have brains of your own?"
"The station is calling you? Here? Now?" Langoustini looked sceptical.
Victoria put her hand over the phone. "I need to take this," she said apologetically. "I'll be five minutes." She repeated the statement in Klingon, less apologetically, then left the room.
Safely in the corridor, she lifted the phone again. "They're in the hotel," she said quietly, still in Klingon. "Room below mine. I was beginning to think you weren't going to call."
"We have an agreement," Tooth said sharply. "I don't go back on my agreements."
Victoria snorted at that. "One day I'll ask you about your definition of 'agreement'. But today you need to move fast."
"We're already on our way up. Join us at the lift." He hung up.
She put her phone away and headed for the elevator. Tooth had better be as fast as he claimed; she could only be gone so long before Langoustini and his Klingon friend got suspicious.
The elevator doors were just opening when she got there. Tooth nodded briefly at her, leaving one of his officers with her, and headed on with the others to tlhIngan's room. Victoria held out her wrists, not speaking as the officer handcuffed her.
Breathe in. Breathe out. It would be okay.
--
After an interminable wait in the justice building - during which she suspected that if she'd been able to read Klingon, she'd have been given form upon form to fill out - Tooth came to lead her to Langoustini's cell. The Bookman looked immensely relieved to see her. "Victoria! Thank God. I can't understand a word these morons are saying."
"They're saying you're in deep shit," she said coolly, walking right up to him. She looked into his face, standing still until his eyes widened in horror. Oh, yes, he understood what she was doing.
"Victoria," he said warningly, "think about this."
She shook her head. In a low voice she said, "You could never have just let me go, no more than I could have walked away from you."
He stared at her a little longer, then wet his lips. "Victoria, I'm a cop."
What? She'd expected him to plead with her, not-- This was just... Well, Langoustini had always delighted in surprising her. Even so, that was as far from predictable as anything he could have come up with in a hundred years.
"My name's Ray Vecchio," he continued quickly. "I'm from the 29th. It's my job to take down the Iguanas. I swear, if you get me out of here, nothing will happen to you. I've got no interest in turning in other cops."
She searched his eyes, but his gaze was as clear as... as it always was. Dammit! She shook her head, running her hands through her hair in frustration. God. What if it was the truth? What the *hell* was she supposed to do?
There was only one option. "Even if I believed you," she said firmly, "I couldn't afford to take the risk. Goodbye, Armando." She kissed him once on each cheek and walked out of the cell, ignoring his call. She paused for a moment as she saw the executioner coming down the hall, hair tied back and the light glinting off his sharpened bat'leth, then turned away and followed Tooth in the other direction.
"I told you so, Metcalfe," he said. "Deep down, you're every bit as cold-blooded as I am."
"If I was as cold-blooded as you, Ho'," she said coolly, "you and my sister would never have left Alaska alive. Is there space on the next flight out?"
"No." He drew a cardboard envelope from his tunic and handed it to her. "Fortunately, you have a ticket."
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "But I assume I'm not getting out of this without consequences."
"Of course not. You came here with Langoustini. You know the laws." He opened another cell and motioned her inside. "They'll be done in plenty of time for you to catch the plane."
Victoria nodded; this much she had expected. Much as she despised Klingons, at least they were always who they claimed to be. She sat down and calmly watched Tooth lock her in. "I do hope we never meet again.
Curse well."
"Curse well," he returned.
--
She was surprised to see Kowalski waiting for her at O'Hare, her bag beside him. Damn, she'd hoped to get home and recuperate a little before dealing with anyone. As it was, she sighed and limped towards him. /Klingon justice is brutal and irrevocable.../
"You look good," he said. For a moment she wasn't certain if he was being sarcastic - the force of Klingon words didn't leave a lot of room for different tones of voice - and then she remembered that he was a *Klingon*. To him, the spectacular bruising colouring her face was a mark of battle. A badge of honour.
Honour. Hah. "I had a little run-in with the law," she said, continuing towards the exit. If she stopped moving she wasn't entirely sure she could manage to start again.
Kowalski scooped up her bag and generously matched her slow, pained pace. "I know."
He did? She glanced at him, then regretted the incautious movement. God, she ached everywhere. Probably wouldn't be a bad idea to have a doctor quickly check her over.
"I said you owe me," he said, not looking at her. "I was wrong. I want no favours from you."
He knew, all right. Arrogant bastard wouldn't want to be *tainted* by her *dishonour*. Victoria kept her eyes on the doors ahead. In English she asked, "Is there a problem, jojlu'?"
"I noticed that your friend was not booked to return with you." Kowalski shifted his grip on her bag. "And then I noticed that your friend was not booked to leave at all."
Victoria considered the crowds around them and chose to switch back to Klingon. "There were two ways to end that relationship, and one of them was with me dead."
"I don't know about that. After all, I live in my own little world," he added mockingly. "But right now I like it a hell of a lot better than the one you live in."
They reached the doors. Victoria stopped just outside and addressed him angrily. "I'm not one of you, Consul. So I double-crossed him; what was I supposed to do, challenge him to single combat? Some of us can afford to dream of living with honour; some of us are just trying to *live*."
"It is what will happen to you when you stop living that you should be worried about," Kowalski retorted. "Eternity is a long time to spend in gre'thor."
Klingon Hell. She stared at him. "You really believe that, don't you?"
"At least I *have* something to believe in." He glanced around, saw a cab pulling up, and nodded at her. "Don't ask me for a favour again."
Victoria got into the cab, wondering just when the Klingon Consul had gone insane. It was bad enough embracing a culture invented for television, but then to begin to actually believe its mythology... God, and she'd thought she couldn't understand him before.
She almost spoke to the cabbie in Klingon before catching herself. Damn, even a day was too long to spend in that country. Slowly, in careful English, she told him where her apartment was, then eased herself back against the seat. Oh, God, she hurt.
But it was a fair price to pay. Between the Klingons and Armando Langoustini her life hadn't seemed like her own. At least now Langoustini was out of the picture, and if the Consul's reaction was anything to go by, she'd have some peace from the Klingons for a little while, as well.
Hell. What was she going to do all day?
--
The End
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