A Matter of Trust
Title: A Matter of Trust
Author: Jinni (email@example.com)
Disclaimer: All things BtVS/AtS belong to Joss Whedon, et al. All things Roswell belong to Melinda Metz, Jason Katims, et al.
Distribution: The normal places.
Author’s Notes: Takes place a couple years after “Destiny” in Roswell terms, assume anything from that point is AU for Roswell. In BtVS, up to Graduation is good, then AU from there. We’ll say somewhere in the second half of Season 1 for the AtS crew.
Summary: When some of the Special Unit’s files fall into the wrong hands, a whole new can of worms is opened for the Pod Squad.
The last rays of the dying sun were filtering through the large windows that sat behind her desk by the time Lilah Morgan finally got around to looking through the file on her desk. It had been special delivered, directly to her. Information from one of her special sources. She smiled cruelly, wondering how many people had been harmed to get it. Many, she could hope. Lots of innocent people that would rue the day they ever dared know anything that could be of use to her.
Or, more specifically, to the senior partners. Information was useless, after all, unless someone else wanted it.
She slid her finger under the tape that held the edge of the envelope together, slitting it with one quick motion. The file spilled out, into her hand. It was thick. More so than her usual informative tip offs were. That alone gave her hope that this was something more interesting than usual. Something that would help her further ingratiate herself with the senior partners.
The folder was plain, no markings to distinguish where it came from or what it had inside of it. That meant that whoever had sent it to her wasn’t looking for payment.
They would eventually, she was sure of that. And when they did she would weigh for herself whether they deserved anything for the information or whether she should just deny ever receiving it. She hated owing favors to anyone.
She flipped open the folder with the edge of one professionally manicured nail, eyes scanning over the cover letter.
Something interesting, it said. Something. . .not of this world?
A smile curved her lips as she turned the page, speed-reading through the beginning of it all.
Oh, this was good.
Almost too good to be true, even.
Aliens? Living not even a day away? Aliens with powers that could potentially be. . .exploited?
Of course, that depended on whether or not any of this was the truth. The papers, as far as she could tell, were government documents. From something called the ‘Special Unit’. Nothing she’d ever heard of, but she shrugged it off. The government and its supporting agencies had never been anything of interest to her.
Up until right now.
They had never found anything to substantiate their claims on this. . .Max Evans. . .if the papers were to be believed. But that didn’t mean there was nothing to find out. After all, he had been freed by his friends. Friends that had the means to break someone out of a secret government facility were people to be reckoned with. There were three names for those friends in the file, individuals that had also been suspected of being otherworldly; though the notes indicated that one of them, a girl, was no longer an option. She’d left. Disappeared.
Pity. But three confirmed aliens would be better than nothing. Especially if their powers could be tapped, harnessed. . .used for the greater good of the firm. She smiled coldly.
Now all she needed was proof.
She picked up her cell phone, bypassing the desk phone lest this end up being one of those times she was being taped, and dialed.
“It’s Lilah,” she snapped before the person on the other end could even speak a single word of greeting. “I need to hire you and two of your men for some surveillance. . . No, nothing dangerous. . .Three people, all in Roswell – Max Evans, his sister Isabel and their friend Michael. . . Easy money.”
Michael looked up from the smoldering remains of the rock he’d just blasted, eyes narrowing as he looked around the quarry. Nothing. Nobody there, Guerin, he told himself.
He felt like he was cracking up. Slowly going nuts. For days now he’d felt. . .watched.
But there was never anyone there.
He dusted his hands off on his jeans, kicking at the largest piece of the rock that remained. It bounced off into the quarry, knocking into other rocks and bits of debris, evidence that he came here entirely too often. More and more since –
He wasn’t going to think of Maria. It had been a mistake to get close to her, that was more than evident now. He should have stuck to his guns and pushed her out of his life, just as he’d always known. But he’d been weak. He’d let her back in.
And then she’d left. Right after graduation. Said she didn’t want to deal with the ‘alien abyss’ anymore.
He didn’t need her.
He didn’t need anyone.
“Target has been confirmed.” A dark haired man spoke into his cell phone, watching intently from a medium outcropping of rock, high up on the quarry’s side. This was it.
“Move the secondary unit in. Sedate and capture.”
He snapped his phone shut, shoving it down into his pocket, and reached for the radio on his hip.
“Alpha One, this is Charlie. We’ve got a go.”
The radio hissed, crackling softly; and then the words that he’d been waiting to hear, as excitement spread through ever fibre of his body. That thrum of energy before the rush of the entrapment.
“Roger that. ETA fifteen minutes. Keep target in sight.”
The dark haired man smirked, clipping the radio back to his belt. As if he was going to let this kid, and the ten thousands dollars he represented, go anywhere.
He’d take him down single-handedly if he had to.