punch_kicker15

Title: When Worlds Collide, Chapter 2
Author: punch_kicker15
Fandoms: BtVS/Elementary crossover
Rating: R
Characters/Relationships: Willow/Joan Watson
Summary: BtVS, post-Chosen, Elementary Season One AU: After completing her sober companion assignment with Sherlock Holmes, Joan Watson becomes the sober companion of Rupert Giles. But when Joan's brother is kidnapped, she can't just rely on her wits to solve the mystery of his disappearance. She needs supernatural guidance and magical mojo to save him.

***
Willow leaned back in her favorite recliner, glanced at her laptop screen and sighed. No matter how many times she told herself, don’t read the comments on the Technopagan Daily, it’s just the same ten people repeating their endless arguments, somehow she managed to get sucked into reading them, and occasionally writing indignant responses to the stupidest comments. And then deleting the comments, if she’d been annoyed enough to post them.

She was saved from the never-ending dilemma by the buzz of her intercom.

“Ms. Rosenberg? I’m Joan Watson, Rupert Giles’ sober companion. Can you come meet me in the cafe downstairs?”

Oh, right—Giles had a “sober companion.” Willow got a kick out of how formal and Victorian that sounded. But wait, Robin was handling Giles’ sobriety issues, so why would the sober companion be visiting her? Had something bad had happened to Giles? She sent out a tentative telepathic greeting to him, Hey, are you ok?

He sent back, Everything is fine. Please stop fretting about me.

I’m not fretting, she thought. I was just worried for a second.

She felt a familiar wave of affectionate exasperation from him. Fret and worry are synonyms!

With a bit of relief kicking in, she answered Ms. Watson. “I’ll be right down.”

She ran down the stairs, she did quick scan of the building. No signs of hostile demons or dark magic inside. The cafe was playing some awful pop song that she could hear from outside. It was unlikely that anyone nefarious could overhear any conversation inside. She pushed the door open.

A dark haired woman stood up and waved at her, and Willow had a moment of pure aesthetic appreciation. Lots of the women she knew were stylish, but Ms. Watson was on a different level. Ten minutes ago, Willow would have sworn that short women should never wear flared pants. But this tiny woman somehow made them work. And the silk blouse with the lipstick prints managed to look formal and playful all at once. Willow tugged at the sleeves of her sweater, suddenly feeling that her carefully casual outfit was just sloppy and unkempt.

She joined Ms. Watson at the table. She paused for a second, and then decided to lead with the truth. “I’m not sure how you got my name, or why you’re here. Did Giles fail an alcohol test or something?”

“Please call me Joan. And he’s fine.” She took a sip of coffee. “I’m just having a very difficult time getting a read on him. I saw you talking with him at Doughnut Plant the other day, and I thought you might have some insight.”

This was getting weirder. “But how did you know who I was, or how to find me?”

Joan said, “You were wearing a limited edition Vera Wang dress.”

“The one with the water lilies?” She flushed a little, flattered that this fashionable stranger had even noticed what she had been wearing. Of course, that dress had been a gift from Kennedy. It was just like Kennedy to pick something expensive, and apparently conspicuous. Generous and flashy was Kennedy to a T.

“Yes. It’s pretty rare. I searched for the dress online, and found a photo of you on the Seen in New York fashion blog. You’re standing in front of the gargoyle fountain in Wilkins Park, just around the corner. I went down there this morning and spoke to Richard—“

“Oh, right, my neighbor who feeds the pigeons. And who talks to everyone.” Willow said. This was a fiendishly clever plan to find her, and she’d always appreciated cleverness. It’s a good thing she’s just a sober companion, and not a demon or an evil witch. But that still left an important question to answer. “Does Giles know you’re here?”

“No,” Joan said. “But he won’t talk with me at all, and I’m not sure if that’s just him, or if it’s a sign he needs a different sober companion. He seemed much more engaged with you. Are the two of you close?”

This woman clearly cared deeply about helping Giles, or she wouldn’t have gone to such lengths just to have this conversation. Willow rested her elbows on the table, thinking hard about what she could say without breaking trust, or blabbing about supernatural affairs.

“He’s a co-worker, and a friend. We both work at the same security company, and we’re both under NDAs, so I can’t get blabby about work stuff. He’s kind of hard to get to know, because there are times where he just closes himself off from other people.”

“Is there something specific that caused this closing off? Did something traumatic happen to him?” Joan asked.

Willow said, “I think that’s something he should tell you himself.” And even if it was ok to tell you the truth about Giles, you’d think I was delusional.

Joan nodded. “I respect that. But when he’s so hard to read, I don’t have a sense of what’s unusual for him. The other day he was yelling at a game show, and I couldn’t tell if that was some negative emotions bubbling up to the surface, or something else.”

Willow couldn’t suppress a giggle. “Was it Jeopardy? Because that’s totally normal behavior for him.” She smiled sympathetically. “I think you should give him a chance to relax a little. If he really hated you, he’d be pretty direct.”

“How long?”

“I’d give it a couple of weeks at least.”

“I’ll think about it,” Joan said.

The tone of her voice was even, but Willow sensed some inner conflict bubbling below the surface. It must be hard for her; Giles isn’t the easiest person to live with. Before she’d completely thought it through, she blurted out, “If you get tired of the quiet, I’d be happy to get coffee with you and talk your ear off. Not about Giles, but just—about random stuff. I can babble with the best of them.”

Joan’s lips twitched up slightly. “I may take you up on that. Thanks for listening. I need to get back to the apartment now.”

Willow watched her leave, and trudged up the stairs to her apartment. She picked up her laptop, closed out the tab to Technopagan Daily, and began to scrub the web of any photos of her in that conspicuous dress.