All
right. Here’s my (long overdue) first
mission. I know it’s not the one I said
I’d write when I applied for Permission a year ago, but that fic proved too
difficult for me to handle, so I decided to get some experience with a simpler,
shorter fic first.
Big
thanks to my betas Desdendelle, Irish Samurai and SMF. Also thanks to
Anyway,
the PPC was created by Jay and Acacia.
The Jeeves stories were created by P.G. Wodehouse. Middle-earth (Hild’s home continuum) was
created by J.R.R. Tolkien.
The
fic “The Very Edge”
is by charlotteicewolf77. (At this point
it’s traditional to say something like, “and she can keep it because I don’t
want it!”)
I own
nothing here except my own characters – Hild and Sean – and their actions.
========
Sean
Bellman let out a low whistle, then said, “She cleans up real nice,” in what he
always thought was a pretty good impression of an American accent. (So far, no real American had agreed.)
“Very
funny.” Hild, who was standing in the
bathroom doorway, had even less idea than Sean of what a good American accent
should sound like, but even she could tell her partner was teasing her. “Besides, I’m still in my regular uniform.”
“Yes, but
you actually showered without being reminded for once. I’d almost forgotten your hair was blonde.” He grinned and leaned back in his chair.
Hild
shrugged. “Well, I didn’t think I could
turn up at Luxury’s RC without a wash first.”
“I’m sure
it wouldn’t put her off. But you
and Lux? Since when are you—?”
“No! Nothing like that!” Hild interrupted him, her eyes wide with
shock. “How could you even think
that? Besides, you know I wouldn’t steal
her from you.”
“Yeah,
right. You know I’m not that
Sean.”
“Your mind’s
dirty enough,” joked Hild as she stepped forwards into the room. “Anyway, for your information, a bunch of
agents are organising evening classes.
They think it’ll help keep us sane, or something. And Lux is teaching one of the courses.”
“Evening
classes from Lux?” Sean leant forward, a
wild glint in his eye. “Well, I guess
you’ll learn some useful techniques for when you finally get Boromir to yourself.”
Hild shook
her head. “It’s taxidermy. Swift Araw!
Are you sure you’re not Lux’s Sean?”
“Taxidermy?” It was hard to make one word sound relieved
and disappointed at the same time, but Sean somehow managed it.
“Yes. Might be fun.
I never got a chance to have any hobbies with the Dunlendings.”
“I dunno.” The joking tone began to fade from his
voice. “You’re not thinking of doing it
in here, are you? All that blood and
guts all over the place. And the smell.”
Before Hild
could reply, a loud [BEEEEP] filled the air. She turned to the console. “That’s odd.”
“What?”
“It’s an
unfamiliar continuum. Have you ever
heard of someone called...” She hesitated over the strange name. “P. G. Wode house?”
A large
grin spread across Sean’s face. “Heard
of him? I love those stories. This is going to be great. You are in for a treat.” He paused, then
added, “Oh, and it’s pronounced Woodhouse.”
Hild said
nothing. Although she had been taught to
read as part of her basic training, she often wondered if the teachers had done
a bad job of it. It seemed that words
rarely seemed to match up with the letters in them. Maybe she’d figure it out one day.
“I’ll set
the disguises.” Sean moved to join Hild at the console. “How d’you fancy being a flapper?”
Hild had no
idea what that was, but she agreed anyway.
She got up and moved over to the shelf.
“Oh, and we’re going to need a crash dummy.”
“Oh yeah,
it’ll be first person.”
“No. Second person.”
“What?” Sean’s manic Cheshire Cat grin started to
crumble.
Hild
shrugged. “That’s what the report said.”
“Oh well.” Sean gave a deep, long sigh, and then opened
up the portal.
Once the
agents had gathered their equipment, Hild chucked the dummy through, and they
both followed behind.
