by Deepy and Kippur
“Please, please, please don’t make me do this!” begged Dee to the overgrown wildflower (also known as Queen Anne’s Lace, who was wearing a tiara even if she wasn’t an actual queen) that was sitting behind the desk. The agents had just gotten their new assignment, and suffice to say, it had gotten a rather strange reaction from them.
We are not at fault for your partner’s reaction to it, replied Queen Anne.
“What are you talking about?” she exclaimed. “You’re the one who gave us this assignment in the first place!”
There weren’t enough agents in LotR Bad Slash to handle this particular one, so we had to improvise.
“Why didn’t you improvise with agents from other departments?”
Because we didn’t, answered the flower simply.
And what kind of an answer was that? Then again, Dee didn’t really feel like standing around all day arguing with a flower. Though this one was a bit more agreeable than say, a certain giant sunflower.
“Please tell me that I won’t be doing this alone. You can’t make me do this alone!”
Fine, fine, we’ll send you another partner if that’ll get you shut you up, said Queen Anne irritably.
* * *
In the brightly colored office of 3b, Department of Improbabilities, things were quiet. Alec was sitting in front of the computer console with a determined expression on his face. Before him were the remains of the keyboard. Earlier he had spilled coffee on it and it had begun to spark. To try and preserve his manhood (such as it was), he was trying to fix it.
Verra, who was sitting in a large chintzy chair with tassels, knitting, had long since given up trying to convince Alec to get another one from Makes-Things. Never mind the fact that Makes-Things seemed to be permanently terrified of Alec. Then again, Makes-Things seemed to be permanently terrified of everyone. The needles clinked together as Alec quietly cursed to himself when the tweezers slipped.
“You know—” Verra began.
“I’m not going to Makes-Things,” he said, cutting her off.
Alec jerked up and fell backwards, startled. The keyboard and all its multiple parts went flying through the air, scattering across the office.
“Actually,” Verra said dryly, looking down at him, “I was going to say ‘you might want to move, the alarm’s going to go off.’”
“Oh.” He twisted up, scrambling to stand. “Right.” He looked at the screen. “Ah... Transfer to Bad Slash... temp, fortunately. For me. Firebolts.”
He gave his wife a sheepish grin. Verra just tossed him his pack. “Have fun, dear.”
“Yes’um,” he replied, and marched out the door.
* * *
Done. Are you happy now? asked the flower, getting impatient, and kind of annoyed at the agent who was frantically pacing back and forth.
“Truthfully? Not really!” replied Dee, still quite surly.
Well, that does not really matter now, does it? You still have a job to do; we’re not paying you people for nothing, you know.
“What are you talking about? We don’t get paid! The only things we get are painkillers.”
Not our problem that you decided to take on this job. Your temporary partner is heading towards your office.
Dee was going to retort by saying that it was a forced job when she decided against it. Considering the options at hand, getting this assignment done so that she could go back to sleep seemed better than arguing with an overgrown plant.
She cast a glance at the form of her unconscious partner on the floor. “What am I going to do about him?” She poked at his form with her foot, greatly loathing him at the moment for being able to get out of this horrible assignment.
I’ll send someone from Medical. Now get out of here, it said, dismissing her with one of its leaves.
“Fine, fine, I’ll go,” she said, grumbling.
* * *
Alec stopped at the door to Bad Slash. He gave a knock and waited politely for someone to answer it. He had learned long ago that opening someone else’s door without knocking was a surefire way to get injured. By minis or agents. No one was answering; he knocked again.
“Why me?” Dee said to herself, walking down the long hallway as slowly as she could, which wasn’t very slow as hallways tended to lengthen or shorten depending on how eager the agent was to get to his or her destination. And right now, it was getting shorter.
She came to her office, only to be greeted by the sight of another agent waiting outside the room. “Hello,” she said, not even trying to be friendly. “You must be the temp.”
Alec jumped at the noise, hand at the hilt of his sword. Seeing Dee, he stared at her, confused, and then pointed to the door. “Shouldn’t you be in there?” he asked.
“Sadly, but just got back from Upstairs.”
“Ooh, okay, got it.” He held out a hand. “Alec, from Improbabilities.”
She took his hand, not really shaking it. “Dee,” she said, and opened the door. “Come in, make yourself at home.” They walked into the room, with Dee almost tripping over the racks of suits in one corner. “This is Bad Slash, and don’t touch the suits, my partner just ironed them and he’d have a fit if they got wrinkled.” She paused. “Well, he would have a fit, if he was conscious.”
“Wow, must be one hell of an assignment, then.”
“See for yourself.” She handed Alec a copy of the assignment.
“Right then.” He took the fic and flipped through it. “Thank the gods it’s short... gonna be messy, but short.”
“Consider it a saving grace that it’s short.”
Alec snorted. “Got an Embryo Extraction Kit?”
Dee raised a brow. “Luckily, no. Bad Slash doesn’t handle the messy stuff. Do I want to know the details of said kit?”
“No.” He slipped his pack off his shoulder and rooted through it for a second before pulling out a device that looked like the bug remover from The Matrix. “Dee, meet Embryo Extraction Kit. Improbabilities get to deal with a little bit of everything.”
Dee examined it, not really wanting to touch it—who knew where it had been?—though she had a good idea of where. “So are you well-versed in all continuums?”
“A good lot of them.” He gave an involuntary shudder. “Unfortunately.”
She took out the portal generator from her backpack. “Let’s do this. The sooner this is over, the sooner I get to sleep.”
Alec grinned at her, recovering from whatever flashback he suffered. “Right then. After you, M’lady.”
“Aren’t we a polite one,” said Dee, suddenly remembering an unconscious cat that was polite to everyone but her, and then wondering if she still had any chocolate. She searched her pockets. Uh oh...
Title: Son of...
“A bitch,” Alec muttered.
“And that’s the story,” replied Dee.
Pairing: Legolas/? (It’s a surprise)
“And we couldn’t figure this out by reading the story, now, could we?”
“Sadly, still gotta read it. Why do I have a feeling that it’s not going to be a good surprise?”
“Because it’s a bad slash and Mpreg story.”
“That may be it.” Dee sighed. “Why does it always have to be Legolas?”
“Because he’s pretty.” Alec shrugged.
“’Tis both a blessing and a curse.”
Legolas moaned, reluctant to wake from his rest when it seemed to him as if he had just fallen asleep. He snuggled deeper into his pillow, pulling the blanket up over his head as he silently commanded the voice to leave him alone.
“Love?” the voice asked again, laughing softly. “It is nearly noon. Surely you do not plan on sleeping the entire day away.”
Alec hunched down into the shadows, pulling Dee with him. “Shhh...” he said; “we’re in too tight quarters to move effectively yet.”
Dee rummaged in her pack for her Invisibility Cloak. “Damn, left it on the floor.”
“Well, as long as we’re quiet we should be fine.”
“I knew that.”
“Besides, I doubt I’m the only one who kept you awake,” he continued as he placed a hand on Legolas’ belly.
Legolas smiled brightly as the man rubbed his swollen belly, coaxing several gentle kicks from the unborn child. “He was restless last night, that’s true,” Legolas sighed. “He is excited that he will get to see the world soon.”
Alec nodded absently as he watched the two “lovers.” Legolas was clear and visible, but his partner was not, as the story had not defined him yet. “You know, my wife threatened me a while back by saying that one of these days she’s going to figure out how to get me pregnant.”
“Wife?” Now there’s something you don’t see every day: usually, partners would kill each other way before they even considered getting married. “I didn’t know they let couples join the PPC.”
“I joined and then she joined. They partnered her with me... which furthers the theory that they’re trying to drive us all insane.”
“Is your wife that bad?”
“She’s an actual fire-breathing dragon.” He shrugged again. “So, yes and no.”
Dee opened her mouth but then figured it was best to not ask, just, don’t ask. Not that she had anything against inter...racial marriages. After all, the PPCers were a weird (and mentally unstable) bunch and looked for comfort in the strangest of places. Oh well, to each their own.
She turned her attention back to the scene, and looked absolutely sick as her eyes wandered over Legolas’ stomach, pondering on the science (of lack thereof) of it. Two Mpreg fics in a row is not good for one’s mental health.
Alec’s face got a strange vapid look on it for a second before shuddering. “Enough with the stomach.”
"It seems I've missed much while I was away."
Both Legolas and his lover tensed, surprised to be caught off guard, and turned towards the tent's entrance. They stared, shocked and disbelieving, at the imposing woman that stood there.
She still wore her traveling clothes, dusty and torn, and had a long knife strapped to her belt. She angrily pushed a strand of dark hair out of her eyes and glared hard at the man. "What were you thinking?" she exclaimed, storming over to the bed and looming over the two lovers.
The man blanched and scrambled away from her, nearly slipping off the bed. "I- I can explain," he said quickly, desperate not to anger her further.
“The sickening drama,” said Dee.
“The mystery woman...”
“The suspense is killing me... really.”
“This fic is killing me.”
The woman scowled. "You had better! Waking poor Legolas when he is obviously exhausted. And then, not even bringing him anything to eat," she finished, sitting next to a very amused Legolas. "Tell me, honey," she said, kissing Legolas' cheek. "Has my husband been treating you right?"
“... Okay, I’m confused,” said Dee. Confusion: bad. Bleeprin: good. Missing Bleeprin: very very very bad.
“Isn’t it obvious? This is Legolas’s lover’s wife who obviously has no problems with her husband sleeping with another man and getting him pregnant.” And thus was the story in one nice little sentence.
“Hence the confusion. Why wouldn’t she have a problem? I mean, wouldn’t your wife have a problem?”
Alec looked thoughtful at this. “If it was another man... actually no. A woman, yes. But not a man—but that’s dragon social stuff for you.”
Once again, no questions, Dee thought to herself. Where was her Bleeprin? She silently rummaged through the sack, grateful to have something to distract her from the fic.
Legolas smiled and took the woman's hand in his. "He takes very good care of me, my lady," he answered, trying hard not to laugh at his lover, who was sitting at the end of the bed, pouting. “Did something happen? We did not expect you back for weeks yet."
The woman smiled, shaking her head. "I convinced my lover to cut our trip short and she and I hurried back." She lightly touched Legolas' belly, her eyes shining with happiness. "You didn't honestly believe I would miss the birth of a miracle?" She sighed, looking Legolas over. "Are you sure that there is only one child in there?" she said, laughing as she studied the elf's large belly. "You were half this size the last I saw you."
“I hope there’s only one,” said Dee. “Otherwise, you’d have a messy job to do.”
“Yes... And isn’t it nice that she’s conveniently gay, too?”
“Oh, I can just imagine the scandal and drama.”
Alec laughed softly at this. Disgusting. What was it with Suvians and their penchant for the ultra-dramatic? The tears, the angst, the corny dialogue; and Dee felt like throwing up.
The woman smiled gently at the young elf. "Don't worry, Legolas. You'll have plenty of help," she said, stroking his belly until his mood lifted.
Legolas smiled, grateful for her motherly presence.
The man had finally recovered from his wife's unexpected arrival and returned to his place at Legolas' side, sandwiching the elf between the two humans. Legolas purred and leaned against the man, feeling soothed as they stroked his belly.
And Dee turned her eyes away, one, feeling really sick at the sight and two, not wanting to hear Legolas purr like a cat. That was just so not... elven-like. “What is with all the stomach-stroking? These people act as if this was a good thing.”
Alec shifted restlessly. “Dunno. Do you think we should grab them now?”
“We don’t know who they are. For all we know, they could be canon characters. And I have a feeling this is going to go on for a couple more paragraphs.”
“Yeah... and the names...”
“Yup,” said Dee, shuddering. The abomination in Legolas’ stomach actually got a name. Poor elf. Mental note, search out authoress and torture in Mary-Sue-like manner. Even though working in Bad Slash meant you were a pacifist in a way, that didn’t mean she couldn’t deliver a good smack-down if needed. “So... I’m guessing you two don’t have any kids.”
“One, actually. He’s nine.”
“They let kids wander around Headquarters?”
Alec looked at her, horrified. “No. He goes to school and stuff like that. We actually managed to get a deal where we can commute to Headquarters.” He grinned. “Verra threatened to roast them if they didn’t.”
“But... doesn’t he get... weird... looks because of the dragon features?”
Alec patted her. “It’s okay. Magic is a wonderful thing. Lets you do almost anything.”
She raised her eyebrows. No kidding. “Sure does.” Nope, won’t ask; though it was hard to keep away the bad mental images. Ah! Too much thinking! Head hurting, where’s that Bleeprin!
Finally, after what seemed to be ages (especially to the agents), she heard sounds of approval and turned to find both smiling and nodding. “You’ve decided.”
Legolas nodded and showed her the name they had chosen. “What do you think, my lady?”
Relieved that the child finally had a name, she looked at their selection. “I think it’s perfect.”
The man smiled proudly and pulled Legolas against, leaning down to place a gentle kiss of Legolas’ belly. “Aragorn, son of Arathorn.”
Alec’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding me.”
“What... the... hell.” The mystery man’s face cleared to reveal a man that resembled Aragorn but seemed more regal (well, not anymore).
Dee placed a hand over her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.” Mental note, bring barf bags next mission.
“But Legolas isn’t even supposed to know the Rangers now!”
“So that means that the woman is....”
Gilraen smiled and, sensing that she was no longer need, quietly left the two lovers celebrating the naming of their child.
“Okay, that’s... that’s just sick.”
“The fic’s been sick from the beginning,” Dee murmured, rocking back and forth. Think happy thoughts, happy, happy thoughts... She was going to have this mental image in her head for a month. Happy thoughts...
“No... she can’t leave! We need her to be the recipient to Legolas’ baby! I hate field transfers!”
Dee patted him. “There there. I think this was the Improbability of this whole scenario.”
Of course the shouting got Legolas’ and Arathorn’s attention.
Alec grinned at the couple. “If you’ll excuse me for a second.” He ran outside of the tent and looked around. Gilraen hadn’t had a chance to get far. He tackled her and brought her bodily back into the tent, to where Dee had managed to tie up Legolas and was working on Arathorn. The two were both in a daze, since the authoress’ influence was waning. “Get the extraction kit for me, would you?” he asked, holding the struggling woman. “And some sedatives!”
Dee looked longingly at Legolas (trying to focus on his face instead of the other place). “Um, sure.” She rummaged in his sack and got out the gun (damn, heavy thing).
She got some rope and assisted Alec in tying up the woman, which proved to be very difficult.
“So... I’m guessing we’re transferring the embryo from Legolas to her.”
“Yup. You stick this end in Legolas’ belly and I stick this end in hers. Through a type of matter transference and other stuff, the baby arrives unharmed in its mother’s womb.” He paused. “Real mother’s womb, I should say.”
“... Oh. So, how do I use this?” she asked, holding up the sedative... thing. Why do all the other departments get the fun stuff? Mary Sue department got weapons, Improbabilities got that dandy matter transfer thingy, and all she got was a cross and a torn copy of Return of the King. Mental note, have a little chat with Upstairs when this is over.
“Stick it against their shoulders and squeeze.”
“Okay, sure, I guess.” She planted it on Gilraen’s shoulder and the woman stopped struggling. “Hm, cool. I have to get one these thingamajigs.”
“Ask Makes-Things for one. I’m sure he’ll give you one, or run screaming away in panic, thus letting you root around for one.”
“I like snooping in his office. You never know what kind of stuff he has lying around that he doesn’t tell anyone about. Like the other day, I found a really cool laser gun; didn’t know how it worked, but... hey, hold still!” She held Legolas down and gave him the sedative. “Okay, what do we do now? Push a button, shoot something, what?”
Alec looked at her, confused. He waved to the end of the embryo transfer device. “Take your end and umm... plug it into his belly button.” As he said it, he demonstrated with his end of the device. “And then I push this,” he said, indicating a large, blue, candy-like button.
Dee looked at him, also confused. “... Okay.” She lifted his shirt (“I am so sorry.”) and ‘click,’ the plug was in. This should be interesting, or gross, or both.
“Insert needle into belly A...” Alec muttered, and then pressed the button. There was a squelching, squishing noise like bog water slime being sucked through a very thin straw. The clear tubes looked like they had glitter flying through them as Legolas’ stomach slowly shrank and Gilraen’s expanded.
“Wow, it’s like Mary Sues when they get assassinated, look at all that glitter,” Dee said, wide-eyed. She got out her copy of Return of the King. “Great, exorcism time. Candles or no? Or are we on a time limit and should be getting out of here within in the next five minutes?”
Thoughtfully, Alec looked at the unconscious canon characters. “Technically you only need something like the book and four cc’s of mouse blood... or is that for the Rite of Ashk’Ente?” He paused. “I don’t think you need candles, though.”
“Great! Then let’s get this over with.” She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. She held the book up into the air. “In the name of Tolkien, Eru, and the Valar, I bid thee, evil slash spirit, out! Leave now and bother the canon no more! The power of Tolkien compels you! In other words, get the hell out of here!” A wind swept through the tent as she smacked all three characters (as gently as possible) with the book. A black spirit in the shape of a female authoress flew from their mouths and hovered in the air.
“Nooo! I must spread the slash! Legolas is Aragorn’s mother!”
Alec gave the spirit an evil look. “No! I am Aragorn’s mother!” he hissed in his best Darth Vader impression (which wasn’t very good). Corny? You betcha!
“Shut up and start reading the books!” Dee shouted, smacking the authoress extra hard with the book. Hopefully, that hurt. The screaming slowly died away and the wind passed.
The two agents looked at the three unconscious canon characters. “What do we do with Legolas?”
“He probably needs to go to Fictional Psych. Again,” Alec decided. “Carrying your best friend is probably pretty traumatic.”
“How many times has he been in there?” She had lost count around one hundred or so. Then again, considering the number of times Denethor and Thranduil were in there, Legolas did not seem as bad. Then again, bad is a relative term.
Alec looked thoughtful again. “Ya know what? I don’t think anyone knows. He does have a permanent room, though.”
“Oh yeah! Right next to his dad! Alright, shall I do the honors while you carry him?”
“Sure,” Alec said with a not too displeased grin on his face. Very few people knew that he was an equal opportunity luster. He bent over and with a slight grunt picked up the elf, swinging him over his shoulder.
Dee opened the portal and they walked through it. “I hope he’s light,” she said as the portal closed.
“Actually he’s dark... you know, never seeing the Two Trees... Oh, you mean not heavy! He’s not that bad,” Alec said.
They appeared in the Fictional Psych office. “Legolas, back again. We just released him three hours ago. That’s a new longevity record,” said Dr. Freedenberg.
“It was a doozy of a fic. He was Aragorn’s mother,” replied Alec, laying Legolas down on a gurney for the doc to take a look at.
The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know?” What in the world was fanfiction coming to? Then again, he had asked that before, a long time ago, and he still hadn’t gotten an answer.
“No. And neither did we. Right, Dee?”
She nodded, looking at the elf, now back to normal and hotter than ever. “Well, I guess we’ll be leaving him with you. You better take good care of him.”
The doctor huffed, as if insulted at the thought. “Of course. It’s my job to take good care of mentally abused characters.”
“And not the mentally abused agents?” asked Dee.
He glared. “If you happen to go insane, young lady, I hope you find somewhere else to go that’s better than here.”
“Too late, Freedenberg.”
Alec grinned. “Come on then, stop arguing and let’s get out of here.”
“Fine, fine, I’m going,” she replied, walking to the doors, keeping her eyes firmly placed on the elf. Clean thoughts, clean thoughts... They exited the office. “Well, that was interesting. Chocolate?” It was at the very bottom of her bag and was all squished and melted. But chocolate was chocolate, and it was still good.
“Really? They let you have that?” Alec asked.
“Either that or I get homicidal and start bringing an axe whenever I come Upstairs.”
Alec laughed at this. “That reminds me of my wife. They let her do what she wants mostly or she’ll get... annoyed and start flaming Upstairs.” In the literal sense, of course, though it did teach the flowers to keep a fire extinguisher handy in case of surly, fire-breathing agents. The Sunflower Official was constantly watering himself for a week.
“Married to a dragon, you must have one heck of a home life.”
“You can say so.”