Secret Garden (Open)

[Cordelia Chase]

It was good to be only two eyed again. As cool as it was (in a totally gross sort of way) to have the surround panoramic view, the little demon spawn gestating in her head sort of took away from the whole cool factor. The scenery drifted past in a blur and she tucked herself into the side of the convertible, ducking her head against the wind. Wes was up squeezed next to her in the back and Gunn was driving. Both were silent, off in their own world, thinking about God knows what. Where the hell did they go from here? Angel was what now? Good, better, no longer a homicidal maniac? And was he even back for good? She didn’t really want to know. The last thing she wanted was to get her hopes up (not that she wanted him back, she didn’t need that - they, their group, they were stronger than that, didn’t need Angel, no sirree). They’d almost gotten themselves out of this mess without his help after all. She blinked and they were back at headquarters. The boys grumbled as they got out of the car and Gunn helped Wes into his wheelchair. They all made their way into the office, a quiet subdued atmosphere about them. And then Wes started talking, “Well, I suppose that Angel’s back with us now….” Cordy frowned and Wes just looked at her.

“All I’m saying Wes, is that…” Cordelia paused, the words she was about to say completely leaving her as everything changed. One moment she was walking back into the Angel Investigations command center and the next she was in some sort of…garden. Last time she checked, their tiny little office didn’t have a garden. She frowned, trying not to panic just yet. Panicking would get you nowhere except dead, she told herself. It was probably just a spell or some weird demon thing-y that liked to make people think they were somewhere else. Or maybe there were some side affects from that demon-y whatchamacallit that Wesley had overlooked. If this was one of them, she was so definitely going to kill him as soon as she got back. Or maybe the whole gang had been transported. “Wesley…” she called, craning her neck to see over the large leafy plants that surrounded her. “Gunn!” she tried. Pursing her lips, she put her hands on her hips, trying to think. “Angel?” she called hesitantly, her last resort. He was still in some hot water and she wasn’t about to forgive him just because she was…well, somewhere.

“Okay Cor, don’t panic. Got to be some explanation for this, some weirdo freaky explanation but still. People just don’t go poof. Well, except for those demon things we killed the other week but still…” she trailed off, not quite ready to delve into crazy land by talking to herself. Steeling herself, she took a careful step forward, her tasteful but not quite appropriate heels clacking lightly on the stone floor. Wide brown eyes swept the area carefully, her senses on alert for any potential threats. She wasn’t the best fighter Angel Investigations had, but she could hold her own. Usually she had the guys to back her up, but it was looking like that wasn’t an option. She frowned - usually on her own she had weapons of some sort but all she had on her was a cell and her purse, which unfortunately was de-Angeled after he’d dumped them and now contained only the necessities (although there might possibly be a stake in there, she wasn’t sure if she’d lent it to Wesley or not).

“Anyone?!?” she tried, at this point a little desperate to find out where the hell she was.

[scarecrow]

The grass pickled Schofield's back and made him itch. He rolled over, sleeping scratching his shoulder, and then realised that the grass was prickling his chest too. That wasn't right. Last night he had gotten into his bed to go to sleep, not out onto the lawn. Had he been sleeping walking? Or had something else happened? Considering his past experiences, Schofield decided that it was probably the latter. He lay still for another second, and twisted around and sat up, the Desert Eagle in his right hand pointing where he was looking.

Nothing.

He scanned the area, looking for any threats. All he found was a wild variety of flora, almost as though he was in a botanical garden. In fact, as he looked around the area he had ended up in, it was a botanical garden, which raised a number of questions. The first of these questions revolved around the fact that there were no botanical gardens within fifteen miles of where Schofield lived, so where the hell was he?

Standing up, Schofield did a quick check of his body to make sure that everything was where it should be and that he wasn't bleeding from any wounds. Thankfully, he hadn't been injured. Unfortunately, it looked as though he had arrived wherever he was dressed only in his boxers, and his sunglasses were nowhere to be seen. Given that the only thing he had from home was the pistol he slept with, it would seem that, wherever he had been taken too, he had been taken with only what he had had on him at the time. Which raised the next question. What the fuck had happened to him?

“Wesley…”

Schofield snapped back to reality as he heard a woman call out. He raised his pistol and moved quickly towards a tree, trying to pinpoint where the woman's voice had come from. He had no idea where he was, who she was or what she was doing here, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

“Gunn!”

There, the voice had come from over there. Schofield crouched down and began to move towards the voice, making use of the cover. While Force Recon Marines don't have the same training as Delta Force or the SEALs, they're used for reconnaissance mission for a very good reason. They're very, very stealthy. As such, Schofield made virtually no sound as he moved towards the woman, using the various trees and bushes as concealment as he not only watched his front but also his flanks and rear. Not for the first time he was missing Mother and Book II.

Reaching the edge of the available cover, Schofield crouched down and watched the woman. She was definitely out of place, wearing high heels and all that, but he could sense that she wasn't exactly a defenceless babe. There was something about how she moved and how she scanned for threats. Not quite military, but better than most civilians. Her accent was American, and Schofield began to wonder if he had been sleep walking. The woman's friends could simply be playing a joke on her, and his appearance, in boxers with gun raised, would probably make things worse.

“Anyone?!?”

Hm. Maybe it wasn't someone playing a joke on the woman. She was sounding a little more desperate than before, and the rate at which she scanned her surroundings had increased. She was anxious and just a little bit unsure about where she was. Schofield decided that, even if this was America and that he had been sleepwalking, he should probably help the woman before she became too distraught.

Standing up slowly, keeping his waist hidden behind a bush, Schofield stood, gun lowered halfway. He didn't want to make the woman feel threatened, but he wasn't about to put himself in any danger.

"Is there something wrong, ma'am?"

[Cordelia Chase]

Cordelia reminded herself that she’d been through a ton of things way worse than randomly appearing somewhere she’d never been before. Like the time her apartment got totally infested with cockroaches or that time that she’d been knocked up by a demon (excuse me, times). If this was the PTB messing with her on top of all the visions, she was going to be pissed. Honestly, it was either the PTB, demon-y side effect or Wolfram and Hart - those were her options on how she’d ended in flowery wonderland. None of them were exactly nice and comforting. Even Cordy could recognize she’d come a long way from the girl who’d hide behind the nearest Slayer (or vampire, or Scoobie) when things got bad - these days she could handle the visions and keeping the group morale up while they stewed in their extremely light caseload. Definitely stronger, if not braver, than that Sunnydale girl. But this? This was freaking her out. Usually when things got bad she had one of the guys to fall back on, sometimes literally. No Gunn with his street fighting skills, no Wes with his stiff upper lip way of keeping situations at least semi-manageable, and no Angel (not that she was upset about that, no sirree, they’d been managing just fine) with his super vampire strength and ability to make her feel as if there was no where safer in the world than by his side (unless he was y’know, going all psycho vamp and stalking his ex-bitch or whatever).

The silence that answered her calls unsettled her. She couldn’t see anything except large plants, most of them she was familiar with but some that were curiously strange. Or at least not native to Los Angeles. And it was kind of hard to hear anything over the pounding of her heart anyway. Inhaling deeply she set her shoulders but remained where she was. Going off and exploring never really equaled anything good. Then again, sooner or later (if she didn’t poof back to Los Angeles) she’d have to go and investigate where the hell she’d ended up. If she was lucky the PTB might be nice enough to send a vision her way. Hah, fat chance. The PTB do anything helpful that wasn’t images of the City of Angel’s fallen and hurting? As if.

She turned and at that exact moment, a voice surprised her. She whirled, gaze wild for a moment, her body reacting instinctually. Fight or flight, that whole thing. She wasn’t really sure which one it was weighted to. The gun in his hand didn’t do much to reassure her, even if it wasn’t exactly pointed at her. She swallowed, forcing herself to calm down, or at least appear calm. She was good at that. She quirked an eyebrow and her hands rested deftly on her hips. “Says the man with a gun.” She frowned, eyeing him warily. She wasn’t used to dealing with guns - demon teeth, claws, gross slimy things that ruined her best pair of jeans? Yeah, she could handle that. Just wasn’t used to the whole human weapon thing. And he was cute, and shirtless, although she shoved that thought to the back of her mind. His accent reminded her a little of Wesley. She pressed her lips together primly, her detailed inspection only taking a few moments.

“And no, everything’s just peachy with a side of keen. I’ve just randomly appeared in a garden that I’ve never seen before with no idea how. My life really couldn’t get any better.”

Crap. Fear always had made her a little rambly. Most of the time she was lucky enough to have something else to occupy her so she didn’t become little Miss talks a lot but well, there was nothing here but plants and a shirtless man pointing a gun in her direction. Funny enough, it wasn’t enough to distract her.

[scarecrow]

The woman whirled around, her eyes wide and a slightly panicked look on her face. The momentary feeling of panic was well justified if she was in the same situation as he was, and Schofield had to admit that civilians often became jumpy around people with guns, especially military personnel. It was as though they expected the military to be the brutal, uncaring bastards that the media so often depicted them as, which Schofield found to be very annoying. What had he ever done to hurt them? After, it wasn't as though most of the civilians he came into contact with were French.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about this particular civilian was the way in which she regained her composure. While Schofield was sure that her heart was still hammering away in her chest, the woman appeared to have calmed her nerves and, to top it all off, begin her own assessment of Schofield. While he couldn't be 100% sure of it, he decided that this woman had seem at least some sort of combat or had some sort of training. Martial arts, perhaps?

The fear and confusion had now changed to sarcasm and wary judgement.

“Says the man with a gun.”

A small smile appeared at the edge of Schofield's lips as he lowered his Desert Eagle. The scared, confused woman who had been standing in front of him only a few moments ago had gone completely.

"Sorry. Is that better?"

The woman didn't seem to hear Schofield and continued her assessment, before replying to the question he had asked when he had first revealed himself.

“And no, everything’s just peachy with a side of keen. I’ve just randomly appeared in a garden that I’ve never seen before with no idea how. My life really couldn’t get any better.”

It was obvious to Schofield now that the woman wasn't entirely calm, but had put on a calmer, braver face. That wasn't what caught his attention, though. What he noticed most about the woman's little rant was that she was n the same boat as he was. Before he had been wondering if he had simply been sleepwalking, but now he had independent confirmation that he was not dreaming and that he was not cracking up. While it was comforting to know that he wasn't going nuts, it was also disturbing to know that other people from Earth had been brought to this strange place for some unknown reason. Given that he wasn't a politician or scientist, it seemed reasonable to assume that he hadn't been brought here for the betterment of mankind.

Which brought up the next question. Who was it that had transported him to wherever he was and what were their real intentions? Was this some perverse, alien version of the Colosseum o was there something else going on? Were they part of a government experiment and been kidnapped in a way where they had no memory but their last one before the kidnapping? It sounded impossible but, then again, Schofield had had a number of impossible encounters with various governments and technologies.

Still, there was no point scaring the woman with his musings on the real reason as to why they were here, at least until he was sure that she could handle such speculation. The last thing that he needed right now was a hysterical wreck, be it male or female.

Speaking in a calm, reassuring voice that he had used on civilians so many times, Schofield delivered his reply to the rant.

"Then we appear to be in the same situation."

He came out of the bushes, deliberately not looking down at his boxers. If the government was responsible, then he was going to move to Canada. At least their government would be polite enough to ask him if he wanted to participate in some top secret, probably lethal, experiment before they kidnapped him.

"I suggest that we scout the area and see if we can find anyone else."

[Cordelia Chase]

Cordy wasn’t sure who this man was, but it was awfully suspicious that he just happened to show up. Then again, over the years Cordelia had learned to be suspicious of a lot of things, even if they didn’t necessarily warrant it. She might have been a little easier in her assessment in him if she hadn’t just been plopped into Random World - that was enough to knock her off kilter and make her feel just the slightest (hah) bit on edge. If one of the guys were with her, well, she wasn’t sure. Would she be taking stock of his physical attractiveness or giving him a heavier dose of snark - honestly it could go either way.

Eying him uneasily, she balled her hands into fists. What was that Angel had said about positioning oneself so their balance was…something. She hadn’t really been listening, to be honest. Angel had been all Joe Stoic vampire about something and had slipped in the training hint in with all the other crap he was talking about so she was only half listening (the other half had been, if she wasn’t mistaken, trying to get a glob of demon gloop off her new sweater that she’d just bought that day). And what was that thing about punching (not that her fists could take on a gun). Thumb in or thumb out. She frowned, a crease appearing for a brief moment before her brow before she smoothed her features into a mask of (slightly) cool indifference/apprehension.

Cordy merely pffted, before going on with her answer. Just because the gun wasn’t pointed at her didn’t mean that it was better. She was betting he had some pretty quick reflexes and could whip that puppy up in a flash, although she wasn’t quite sure why he’d been aiming it at her in the first place. Wasn’t like she was much of a threat (although she could hold her own, if she really, really had to…for about five seconds. That’s usually when Angel or Gunn or Wes stepped in or she got really lucky). Plus, she really didn’t know why he was here anyway. She’d just turned around and all of a sudden he was there. What if he was one of the people who’d put her here (if she’d gotten here by human means and not some mystical mumbo jumbo, that is). Although, she wasn’t sure why he’d be asking her if she was okay or not (she wasn’t, but like hell if he’d find that out…might make her an easier target or what not).

It probably would have done her well to have paid more attention to Mr. Giles lectures back in Sunnydale or learned the rules to Clue or something like that - anything to help her through this. Cordy’d been through just about anything that could be thrown at her, killer visions, killer demons, really crappy boyfriends but this, this was a whole new level of ick. It wasn’t just the fact that she was alone (save for gun boy over there) but that she had no control. No idea where she was or how she could get back to her family. If she stopped to think, she was pretty sure there’d be just a wide gaping hole of panic, trying to suck her in. So she didn’t think, at least about that. Instead she tried to figure out how she could have gotten here (and not noticed). So far all she was coming up with was squat. Less than squat. There was nothing to go on. No one gunning for the downfall of Angel Investigations (if you could call what they’d been doing any sort of investigations, couldn’t even get a decent paying job without getting demon spawn inserted in your head), no one that she knew of that would be willing to do something like that - unless Angel had gone and gotten them mixed up in whatever baddy bad stuff he’d been doing after he’d fired them.

Cordelia opened her mouth to zing back some really witty retort, maybe a no shit Sherlock or something but then he stepped out from behind the bushes and revealed nothing but boxers. She didn’t know whether to laugh or burst into tears. Instead, she just arched her patented eyebrow, a look that clearly said ‘God help me,’ on her face. That was who she had to help her get out of this mess. A guy with a gun walking around in boxers? She was never getting out of here. Shifting her stance a little, looking no less wary than before she pressed her lips tightly together.

“Okay, first things first. Who the hell are you? Not to be rude or anything,” she paused as if considering this, there was probably a good chance that she wanted to be rude, “but I’d like to at least know the name of the guy that I’m going to be traipsing around all willy nilly looking for people who might not even be here.”

[scarecrow]

It appeared that the woman was less than impressed by Schofield's boxers. Well, to be fair to her, he did have to admit that he wouldn't have much faith in himself anyway. He had no body armour, no automatic weapon and virtually no ammunition for his weapon. The fact that his pistol could kill a grizzly bear at twenty paces didn't seem to factor into his assessment of his capability to fight. After all, there was only so much that you could do with a pistol that had an extremely large noise signature, and he definitely wasn't going to give it to the woman. It would probably knock her out the first time she fired it.

“Okay, first things first. Who the hell are you? Not to be rude or anything, but I’d like to at least know the name of the guy that I’m going to be traipsing around all willy nilly looking for people who might not even be here.”

Schofield smiled at that particular comment. He guessed that either this woman had been too young in '99, when the whole ICG things had come out, or he'd changed a lot since then. Perhaps it was his lack of sunglasses. Luckily he'd managed to keep his face and name out of the papers last time. He didn't think that he could have handled speaking to those parasites of reporters after Fox's...no, he wasn't going to think about that right now. If he did, he would be no use to anyone, and that was dangerous in a situation like this.

"Captain Shane M. Schofield, United States Marine Corps, 1st Reconnaissance Battalion."

While he didn't say anything about his involvement in bringing down ICG, he was hoping that the woman would know enough about that incident to know his name. That, at least, would put an end to her questioning his combat abilities. Somehow, though, he doubted that he was going to get off that easy. Nothing in his life so far had been easy, not his relationship with Gant, not his military career and certainly not his relationship with the French, so why should this be any different?

He had been about to wait for the woman's reply, but then he realised that he knew nothing about her. Since he'd told her who he was, he might as well ask her who she was.

"While we're on the subject of identities, who are you? You're obviously not just a pretty face, which makes me wonder what you do for a living."

[Cordelia Chase]

Cordy had seen a lot of strange things growing up in Sunnydale and even stranger once she got to LA. This? This was topping her list, even ahead of the time they fought that demon with seven tentacles and what looked like a fake moustache. Sure, his weapon (she snickered inwardly) was a little intimidating - after all, Wes had been shot with a gun and she saw the damage one could do. The boxers? They totally detracted from whatever macho image this guy had going. Not that it made this situation any less scary - no, randomly appearing in the middle of a place you hadn’t been a second before could rattle the nerves, that was for sure.

Her brow rose and then kept rising. The guy said his name like it meant something to her. She merely pffted, shooting her best ‘so what, dumbass’ glare. She’d perfected that particular look after just weeks of working for Angel. “Uh huh,” she added in a tone that implied she was waiting for the explanation to why that name should mean anything to her at all. It wasn’t as if she was all that aware of anything military - no, she was busy enough slaying demons (or, well, attempting to, she left the slaying to Angel and other Champions) to be too terribly concerned with the human world. Which was sort of pathetic, now that she thought about it. What did she have connecting her with the world that wasn’t full of icky demon goo and monsters that roamed the night? She lived with a ghost, for goodness sake. Oh, Dennis. She nearly sighed, missing her favorite phantom. He always knew how to make her feel better.

Although, now that she thought about it, someone military might be worthy to have around. Not that this even remotely resembled something of human doing - all this had a fairly mystical air to it. Then again, maybe it was safer not to make any assumptions, after all, this guy could be in on it all. Or not. She really couldn’t be sure. Her hands remained positioned on her hips, although the fierceness of her position seemed to fade by the second. Damn it, she just wanted to go home. She pressed her lips together, unsure whether to be flattered or offended by the pretty face comment. Hell yeah, she wasn’t just. A low laugh escaped her, barely more than an exhalation escaped her.

“Cordelia Chase - and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said. Most people wouldn’t. Girl who gets visions from the Powers that Be and works for a ensouled vampire really wasn’t a job description that particularly smelled of truth.

[scarecrow]

While Schofield kept his face carefully blank, the woman in front of him was starting to get on his nerves. Perhaps he shouldn't have added that inflection to his name, but he had been confident his name would have at least rung a bell. Still, that didn't excuse her condescending dismissal. It wasn't as though he had made a big thing about who he was. Hell, he could have mentioned quite a large list of his achievements, including the fact that he had once served as a member of the President's Marine security detail, but he hadn't. Some how he got the feeling that, while this woman was more than just your average civilian, she was definitely a "rich bitch". One part of Schofield wanted to simply leave her here, since she was probably going to be a hindrance to him, but the other part told him that he had a duty to help and protect her. It wasn't just his marine side, either. Schofield probably would have felt the same even if he had been a civilian. His father had taught him well.

The woman seemed to expect Schofield to explain himself further, but he shrugged instead. If she didn't recognise his name from the ICG incident, then the chances were that connecting himself to it would only make her think that he was all the more arrogant and worthy of her contempt. It just didn't make sense to cause any more friction between the two of them, since the chances were that they would have to rely on each other in order to survive. Whatever had happened was not likely the work of friendlies.

When he asked the woman who she was, she seemed to hesitate and assess whether she should tell Schofield that particular piece of information which, he had to admit, was fair enough. A guy with badly scared eyes and a gun, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers did was probably not the most reassuring or trustworthy person when you've been, presumably, kidnapped by some unknown force and deposited who knows where and for what purpose.

“Cordelia Chase - and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,”

Well, now he had her name and it appeared that she was beginning to lower her defences somewhat, or at least look a little less prickly and stand-offish. The second part of her answer also intrigued Schofield. Normally, he wouldn't believe someone who said that, but the low laugh, snort, really, that Cordelia had given seemed to indicated that she, at least, believed that he wouldn't believe her. A small smile played on Schofield's lips for less than a second as he thought about his various experiences. Cordelia might just be surprised about what he could believe.

"Try me."

[Cordelia Chase]

It was starting to dawn on Cordy that maybe this time the boys weren’t going to step up and save the day. The seconds ticked past and still there was no sign of Gunn, or Wesley or even Angel, frantically looking for her. If anyone could save her, they could. Instead she was stuck with Mr. Commando here, who was about as reassuring as Xzandr in his soldier gear that Halloween (okay, actually, that was pretty reassuring to be honest, Xzander had been pretty hot when he was all in command and everything, and she had totally not just thought that). Still, it was looking relatively demon free so far (and she was checking, her gaze occasionally shifting past him, searching uneasily) and if the worst of her troubles was being stuck in some…dimension or something with a guy clad in nothing but boxers, well, it wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to her. There had been the time when she and this other girl had worn the same dress to homecoming her freshman year (and there was shallow Cordy, coming back for a sarcastically shallow jaunt) okay, well no. She didn’t have enough fingers to count all the times she’d gotten in trouble with Angel Investigations. And they’d always gotten out, and she had proof, which was herself relatively unscathed and breathing.

She frowned at his shrug and then shrugged herself. Well, that was exciting. Cordelia had it about up to here (and here was roughly about neck height) with all the monosyllabic-ness. She’d thought she’d gotten away from that once Angel had dumped them, although Gunn could grunt with the best of them and when Wesley was in one of his prissy British moods, he gave Angel a run for his money, but it seemed that it was just a trait of men. She really should have known that. Instead of requesting more information or telling him that the military had nothing on what she did (somehow she couldn’t imagine that pleasing him and as much as she’d never been tact girl, well there was a time and a place for such things. Like when she wasn’t stuck in the middle of nowhere with no idea when or how she’d be able to get home.

Dark eyes flickered over him, wondering what sort of things he’d seen. It always amazed her how blind people could be to the whole demon underworld (and sometimes right-next-to-you) thing. Of course, there’d been a time when she was as ignorant as the rest but she’d never assumed that Sunnydale was somehow normal as it seemed others had. Now that she really knew, it was even harder to believe that so many people could be so blind. Covered up vampire attacks with murders, covered their eyes and looked away from things that couldn’t be explained. Sometimes, and only sometimes, Cordelia really, really envied them. To think, she could be somewhere, pampered and filthy rich with some pool boy bringing her Pina Coladas - instead she was vision girl for the PTB, a not so great gig to be honest. Still, when it came down to it, she honestly thought that she wouldn’t change it for the world.

Her sharp gaze caught on his smile but she couldn’t explain it so she let it slide right past. Whatever. She pressed her lips firmly together, looking him over carefully. Really, what could it hurt, telling him? At worst, he’d laugh and call her crazy, and pfft, sometimes she thought she was too. She blew out a slow breath, looking at him with something a little like pity. What if she was like…popping his demon cherry or something (and oh god, was she never, ever going to think of it like that again). If he even believed her.

“I get horrifically painful visions of people that are about to be killed or eaten or something else equally gross by demons and then the guys I work with, and an ensouled vampire go out and slay them. Keeping the streets of Los Angeles clean and sparkly and safe for human kind.” Okay, so maybe the last part was a bit of an overkill, but the rest was true. Her voice was to the point and brief, almost as if she were reciting from one of the cue cards in her acting class.