Back in the 'game' Who: Tasha, JD What: Catch-up When: 12th Nov Where: Bar Ratings G
It had been more than a few months since he’d caught up with Tasha, the cases he’d been working on having been a little frustrating, and odd. The FBI had discovered a large burial ground and were keeping it all very quiet, which was made easier by the location, but no less frustrating for the Missing Person department in the force. The numbers involved, and the way the FBI was trying to cover it up had him thinking it wasn’t just your average serial killer, and he wondered if Tasha had heard anything about it at all.
He could hear the now-familiar voice as he entered the bar, making his way to the closest pair of empty stools and ordering a bourbon. As he sipped at it he turned, leaned his elbows back on the bar, and enjoyed watching her play. He noticed she was looking a good deal fitter, and wondered what, or who, had triggered that.
Tasha had spotted JD as she was up on stage, finishing her set. He looked like his usual, wary self, and she smiled as she crossed the bar, coming up on his right side. “Must be Thursday,” the musician grinned, leaning against the counter. Her gaze dropped on his drink, before getting the attention of the bartender and ordering one for herself.
“What’s new, detective?” The last word was spoken quietly so only he could hear.
He smiled, turned toward her and finished his drink, indicating to the barman to refill his too. “You tell me,” he grinned, openly running his eyes up and down her body appreciatively, one eyebrow twitching upwards as he did. “If I didn’t know better I’d say someone’s been working out.” He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her cheek, pausing to murmur, “you know you don’t have to do that for me,” in her ear before straightening again, his smile now wide. “What’s their name?”
“I think I look pretty much the same,” Tasha replied, glancing down at herself with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe it’s time you admitted that you need glasses.” She perched on the stool next to him, accepting her drink with a grateful nod.
“I don’t really get their names,” she told him, “it’s very wham, bam, thank you ma’am, these days.”
He chuckled as he picked up his refreshed glass. “And she leaves a trail of broken hearts in her wake,” he joked, the two of them having sometimes ended up in ‘deep and meaningful’ diatribes about relationships, shared through the mists found at the end of a bottle of Maker’s Mark. He lifted his glass and tilted it towards hers. “Here’s to ‘treatin’ ‘em mean, keepin’ them keen!’,” he declared, something they’d joked between themselves was the best way to be when one was picking the other one up from a particularly down time in their relationship lives.
Tasha laughed, taking a drink. “These are more like...how did you describe them back then?” She took a moment to reminisce. “Oh, right. Fanged and sometimes four-legged.” She waited for him to catch her meaning.
Now JD’s eyebrows did rise and he looked at her for a long moment. “So more a case of broken limbs than broken hearts?” he asked, eyes narrowing a little as he looked at her, curious as to whether that’s what he was noticing was different about her.
“Well, that depends. I am putting wooden stakes through a few. Does that count?” Tasha grinned. “Do you seriously think I’d work out for someone? I hooked you well enough the first time, didn’t I?”
“Ah it was the charm, wit and great music that won me over,” he teased, “not to mention the incredible kiss! After that?” he shrugged and held his hands out, almost plaintively, “I was putty in your lovely strong hands!”
Tasha snorted, rolling her eyes and sipping from the glass. “There’s that flattery again,” she replied dryly. She leaned toward him conspiratorially.
“So, I’m back in the game. And I happen to know that you sometimes require the assistance of hunters.”
"I do," he agreed. He held the glass midway to his mouth and asked, "what brought this about? After what happened I thought you'd sworn off all that?"
“It’s complicated,” Tasha answered, her smile faltering for a moment. She drank from the glass to stretch out a beat of silence before speaking again. “When they say it’s in your blood, that’s not a cliche. Hunting really is a part of me, and...I found myself missing that part after some recent events.”
He knew they hadn't caught up in a while, longer than usual, and he chided himself, silently. She'd been there for him over the years, ready to lend an ear, offer a different perspective, or kick his ass if required. He'd thought he'd done the same, up until now.
"What's flipped the coin?" he asked, keeping his eyes on her from over the rim of his glass.
She wished they still allowed smoking in bars. It was a great way to keep the hands busy, an orderly little ritual. “I don’t know if it’s any one thing,” Tasha answered. “Or just a long time coming.” The hunter had finally let her family know, too. Predictably, the reaction wasn’t one hundred percent positive.
“I got into a fight a few months ago,” she added, setting her drink down. “Actually, someone was trying to kill me.”
This information did make JD frown, first because Tasha was a good friend, and JD didn't like it when someone tried to kill his good friends. Secondly, his investigative side was never off the clock, and information solved crimes. Maybe not always cases, and this was when his detective side did go off duty, but he'd learned two decades ago that sometimes the laws of the courts weren't always balanced enough for correcting the scales of justice.
"What happened?"
And there’s where it got murky. Tasha trusted JD, but she also didn’t want to implicate Summer. “A personal beef involving a girl I’m seeing,” she answered. “This guy followed me and he had a knife. Attacked me. He was human,” the hunter added. “Or still is. I think he’s still alive. Hasn’t bothered me since, though.” Her tone was breezy, conversational.
He nodded, listening. "Probably still in hospital," he joked, his smile not quite making it to his eyes as he responded. "Must be some girl? Or he has a bad dose of jealous rage? Most blokes 'd be wanting to join that action, not kill you."
“Um, maybe,” she mumbled, turning her attention back to her drink. “I didn’t really check up on him afterwards.” Tasha took a sip, then licked her lips and cast her gaze up toward the ceiling.
“It woke something up,” she told JD slowly. “That’s the closest I can come to describing it using words.” The hunter turned her head toward him. “It’s what I was meant to do.”
'Hunters, they're a special breed, it's something in their blood, and we won't ever know what it is lad, so don't worry about it, just go with it, and call on 'em when needed because that's what they can do better 'n anyone. Hunt and kill the unkillable.' The words of his uncle rang in his head as they'd done down through the decades. He'd been told about them back when he was a rookie in California, after coming face to face with his first scene of carnage caused by 'supers'. Since then he'd called on a few to deal with certain problems not really covered under his jurisdiction.
"So I don't need to call out-of-towners anymore?" he simply replied. He had been dealing with a couple of hunters at arm's length for the past few years, and it was almost a bit of a relief to know that he now knew who was on the other end of the speed dial.
Tasha laughed darkly, shooting him a sardonic expression. “Yes, that’s the main takeaway,” she teased. “You can call me now.” She drained the contents of her glass and turned on her stool to face him fully.
“I’m assuming I get paid for these calls?” the hunter asked, one corner of her mouth quirked upward.
"Reckon we can work something out," he replied, downing the rest of his drink as he waggled his eyebrows and grinned from behind the glass. As it lowered his expression had become a little more serious again.
"But don't think for a moment I've forgotten about what triggered this," he told her. "Hunting, what you do, is your gig, but the human ones? That's what I do. Deal?"
“Don’t worry,” she answered wryly, but with a soft smile regardless. “I wouldn’t think about edging into your territory. It’s also not much fun fighting normal humans, anyway. They break too easily.” Tasha signaled the bartender for two refills, which brought back familiar memories of the two of them and their nights out.
He huffed a laugh and shook his head. 'Hunt and kill the unkillable.' "Yeah, right," he grinned, then looked at her with a little softer expression. "And if you think of anything more you can tell me about this bloke with the personal beef, you'll do that?"
Tasha nodded, eyes straying away from him briefly. “Yeah, if there’s anything more I can tell you, I will,” she said, and technically that was the truth. If there was something she could tell him that wouldn’t get Summer in trouble, she would. She tipped her newly full glass and let the bourbon wash over her tongue. “What about you?” she asked, switching conversational gears. “Anything new or interesting in your world?”
Filing away the response for later analysis JD shrugged lightly. "Same old same old, you know these weak, breakable humans, they keep getting broken and breaking each other," he replied with an exaggerated wink. "Actually, seems we're closing a lot of missing persons cases all of a sudden," he continued. "More than usual, let's say. Something to do with some big investigation the Feds got their hands on a while ago," he added with a shrug. "At least some families have some closure now." He didn't deal with missing persons unless it was part of a homicide investigation. "You haven't heard anything about it, have you? Around the traps?" he asked, indicating the bar with a wave of his newly refilled glass.
“Something about some bodies turning up in the desert?” she replied quietly with a small shrug. “I read the ‘official’ article, and I’ve heard the rumors. They’re trying to make it sound like it was a few people who got lost while hiking. I’m going to have to express my doubt over that,” Tasha added, swirling the amber liquid in her glass.
He chuckled as he nodded. "Yeah, same here. From what I've seen so far it was one damned big hiking party, taking a damned long time to be found." He took a sip of the bourbon and favoured the taste before swallowing. "You might be getting back in the game just as it's starting to get interesting," he suggested, throwing her a sideways wink and grin. "Always room in the budget for good CIs, and easier on the paperwork."
Tasha faked a grimace. “Oooh, see, I don’t like the term ‘criminal informant’. It’s so...snitch-y.” She grinned, raising the point of one shoulder. “And I don’t much feel like getting stitches anytime soon.”
"You see, I don't only have 'criminal informants'," he grinned, leaning over and whispering in her ear, "in your case it's a very, very 'classy informant!"
“Oh, yeah, that’s the first word that comes to anyone’s mind when they’re describing me,” Tasha laughed, her head tilting back slightly. “Classy. I’ll drink to that.” And she did.
Laughing with her JD took another sip, lowering his glass to the coaster on the bar and slowly turning it, quarter turn at a time. “You’re my kinda classy, lady, so there’s that!” he teased.
He genuinely liked Tasha as more than ‘just a friend’. In the five years they’d known each other they’d developed a trust in, and respect for one another, had shared numerous nights together, some just talking and looking between the lines, others between the sheets, and others sharing their fears and frustrations and failed relationships.
“But seriously, for a moment, you know you can always call on me, any time, if y’ need to, right?”
Tasha looked up at JD appreciatively. All kidding aside, she knew he was being sincere. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know,” she told him, with a sincere smile. “And it goes both ways, you know. I’m here if you need me. Especially if it involves killing something.”
"Oh you sweet talker!" he grinned, turning his head and pressing a kiss to her fingertips. "You sure know your way to a guy's heart!" Hebliftef his glass to her, "here's to best mates, and killing the things that need it."