DISCLAIMER: Fastlane is the property of Fox and Jerry Bruckheimer, not that they seemed to care. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written as part of the femslash_today 'Guns & Microscopes' ficathon.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author

By ralst


Billie kept to the shadows, her lithe body slumped into a tired pose in an attempt to ward off interested eyes. The other prisoners had watched her entrance into their midst with predatory glee, but spluttered coughs and tarnished skin had kept most at bay. It was only a matter of time before her preparations let her down and one of the cons or guards decided to have some fun with the new girl. Sexual harassment wasn't the first thing to enter Billie's mind when she'd suggested infiltrating the Monarchs' hierarchy through their incarcerated former leader. At that time, all she'd been thinking about was shutting down the gang's drug operation and sending out a big 'fuck you' to Hill and the other suits hell bent on closing down her unit. That was until she spoke with one of her contacts and found out exactly what life would be like at the Castle Point Correctional Facility.

Castle Point was an old building and the staff held equally outdated views concerning rehabilitation and prisoners' rights. The sadistic glee with which the officers were said to carry out their duties was only surpassed by the seething aggression displayed by many of its inmates, women who had been incarcerated for anything from murder to prostitution. It was a war zone and Billie had walked straight into the middle of it.

With slow, aimless steps, Billie made her way toward the back corner of the large rec room, her goal the five-person clique huddled together next to the air vents. The central figure was that of Michelle Contorra, serving seven years for aggravated assault, a founding member of the Monarchs and Billie's target. Shuffling her feet and staring at the floor, Billie manoeuvred herself to within yards of the group. With some effort, she could just make out their conversation and the...


The sound of her name hit Billie like a tidal wave of fear, and caused her heart to triple its beats. She looked up, slowly, ready to defend herself against whatever horror was about to rain down on her.

She couldn't believe she hadn't recognised the voice. "Sara?"

The blonde was just as she'd seen her last, stunningly beautiful and confused as hell, a touch of pain colouring her eyes. It had been months since she'd seen the other woman but, for a moment, she forgot about their parting, their current surroundings, and just wanted to take Sara in her arms.

"What the hell!" Sara's exclamation caused heads to turn and the danger to increase. Contorra and her friends were eagerly watching the exchange, hoping for a moment of excitement in their normally dull lives.

Discarding her prisoner's gait, Billie rushed to Sara's side, her voice hushed as she clamped her hand around Sara's arm.

"Don't," she pleaded, her eyes raw. "I can explain."

The muscles in Sara's arm flexed as she prepared to shake off Billie's hold, the feel of her touch doubly painful after their last meeting but, finally, she sensed the danger and interest surrounding them. One look at the cold eyes staring down on them convinced her to play along.

"I'll give you five minutes," she said, her voice low.

Shuffling slightly, Billie led the blonde away from the others, her hold on Sara's arm remaining firm until she sensed their audience's waning interest. Silently, they entered her cell.

"Well?" Sara looked at the two beds trying to surmise which one belonged to the brunette, before gingerly sitting on the other. "What are you doing here?"

Billie had a lie already prepared but, when the time came, she couldn't use it. "My job."

Sara looked at her in disgust. "What, pretending to be something you're not just to worm your way into someone else's heart?" Her voice trailed off, silence descending in its wake. The bitterness she still felt at Billie's betrayal was eating at her gut and all she wanted was to cause the brunette as much pain as she'd endured.

"I wonder what they'd say if they knew we had a cop in amongst us."

The fear Billie expected to feel at the threat didn't materialise. She realised that, no matter how angry Sara still was, she just didn't believe she'd do something like that. The blonde might have been a thief, but she wasn't a sadist.

"You won't tell anyone." Billie's voice was low, intimate. "It's just not in you."

"Don't pretend you know me," Sara hissed.

"But I do."

Sara's answer was halted by the appearance of a shadow at the cell door.

"Hey, Bitch, waddaya doin' with the new meat?"

Billie was surprised to find that the question was directed at her and not Sara.

"Just talking."

The intruder's eyes raked over Sara's form, exuding both malevolence and lust, and reminding Billie that she wasn't the only one at the mercy of predators.

"Not anymore," the woman said. "She's mine."

Before Billie had a chance to react, Sara sprang off the bed and stood toe to toe with the intruder.

"I'm no one's bitch."

"We'll see about that."

The woman's smirk was short-lived as Sara's elbow connected with her nose and sent her falling back onto the landing. A boot to the throat ramming home the truth of Sara's statement.

"Now leave me alone, I'm busy."

Momentarily dazed, the other woman crawled to her knees before stumbling from the cell, her hand protectively cupping her nose.

For several seconds Sara just stood there, her breathing heavy and body tense, as the reality of the situation hit her.

"You shouldn't have done that." Billie stepped up beside her, a tentative hand reaching for Sara's back. "If she has friends, they'll make your life a living..."

Sara turned, consuming Billie's words with a kiss that was both brutal and desperate, her arms forcing them together in a crushing embrace.

For the briefest of moments, Billie resisted, her body fighting against the same intrusion her mind had already welcomed. Then, once the warmth of Sara's body against her own had seeped into her skin, it was Billie's turn to pull them closer. Her hands nestled amidst silky blonde strands as she pulled Sara ever closer, their lips merging in hungry desperation.

"Stop." It was Sara who pulled away, her breathing rapid and face flushed with a mixture of excitement, fear, lust and, above all, anger. "Stay the hell away from me!"

Billie didn't let go. "You kissed me."

"Fuck you, Billie!"

Sara struggled to free herself from the embrace, but Billie refused to relinquish her hold, their intimate struggle and muffled groans a gross imitation of the passion they had once shared. Their bodies writhed against one another as the line between anger and lust began to blur.

"Listen to me," Billie demanded.

"Yes," said a voice from the doorway. "Listen to her."

All movement stopped as the menace encapsulated in those few words registered with the fighting women. Billie's hold on Sara's arm transforming to one of protection as she turned to take in the identity of their intruder. Contorra's stocky presence would have been more than enough to cause concern, but the three women standing behind her, each wearing their own version of Contorra's scowl, were enough to make Billie contemplate calling for help.

"What do you want?"

Sara's tone was aggressive and Billie knew that if she'd been in possession of a gun, it would have been pointed straight between Contorra's eyes. It was a side of Sara that had alarmed her when the gun had been pointed at Van's crotch, but it downright terrified her now that the target of Sara's wrath was a gang leader and suspected murderer.

Contorra's lips twitched in a sadistic smile. "Payment."

"For what?"

Head bowed, Billie remained silent, as she stepped away from the blonde, her movements both timid and afraid.

"Angela's nose."

Sara didn't have time to reply before Contorra barged into the cell, her fist aimed at Sara's shocked face.

A dull thud echoed throughout the cell as Billie rammed into Contorra's stomach, her momentum carrying them across the room and leaving them in a heap against the far wall. The silence that followed was broken by angry shouts from Contorra's friends as they tried to rush into the cell, pushing and shoving each other out of the way in their haste.

The tiny space was awash in bodies, Contorra's unconscious form caught under foot as the five remaining women engaged in a battle none could hope to win. Billie and Sara's martial skills up against the brute force of Contorra's thugs, the cramped conditions equalling their chances and leaving Billie with a single hope of extricating them from the fray.

Her hands tangled in one of the women's faded blue work shirts, Billie swivelled on her left foot, propelling the woman towards the second bed; where she tripped over Contorra's slumped shape. Momentarily free, Billie reached for the farthest cell wall, her hand slamming onto the red panic button. A deafening klaxon's blare interrupted the swinging fists and prompted Contorra's thugs to turn tale and run, their leader's body carried limply among them.

Sara sat on the bed, her shirt torn and a bruise slowly forming on her jaw. "I guess I asked one question too many."

Billie smiled, before the realities of the situation closed in. "After this it will be too dangerous for you to stay here," she shouted, her voice fighting against the klaxon's blare and thumping of booted feet, as prison guards rushed towards the cell.

"I'm not on vacation, Billie, I don't get to change hotels because the beds are lumpy."

Two uniformed guards barged into the cell. "Against the wall!"

As the noise faded and Billie found herself brutally slammed against the wall, she realised that her reason for being there had disappeared in a hail of flying fists. Even if she could survive her stay without being impaled on the business end of someone's home-made blade, there was no way she could get close enough to find out anything useful from Contorra. With that realisation, her priorities changed.

"I want to see Mrs. Jacks."

Billie's cheek hit the wall as the nearest guard struck her on the back of the head.

"Shut up!"

"My name is Lieutenant Wilhelmina Chambers," Billie shouted. "I need to see Mrs. Jacks."

The two guards exchanged looks. "Sure you are."

"I'm working undercover as part of an LAPD investigation into drug trafficking."

The more Billie talked, the less certain the guards became.

"My cover has been blown and I need to speak with Mrs. Jacks immediately."

There was a moment of strained silence before the second guard turned for the door. "Do not move!" he warned.

More than two hour passsed before Billie found herself alone with Sara in the assistant warden's office. The shock of the last few hours clearly showed on Sara's face, as she slumped into one of the visitor's chairs, her eyes refusing to meet Billie's.

"I spoke to my captain," said Billie. "He told me that he could arrange for you to be transferred to a minimum security facility."

Sara remained silent, her fingers worrying at the frayed tear in her shirt.

"With good behaviour, you could be out in six months."

After a brief look at the door, Sara rose and made her way towards the desk, her hand trailing along its scarred top before squatting down and out of Billie's line of sight. A muffled click and scrape piqued Billie's interest but, before she could ask any questions, Sara had reappeared, a bottle of Scotch in her hand.

"And with bad behaviour?"


The blonde smiled.


Billie blew out a frustrated breath. "You don't want to spend your life in and out of places like this. Believe me, I've seen what it can do to people, and you don't want that."

Sara opened the bottle and quickly wiped the rim against her shirt sleeve, before taking a healthy swallow. "What's the alternative?" she asked, passing the bottle to Billie. "Working the drive thru at McDonalds?"

"That's not your only option." Billie up ended the bottle, the liquid sliding down her throat with indecent warmth.

Sara laughed, the sound devoid of humour. "Sure, I can always join the police department."

The bottle passed between them several more times as they took up position against the desk, their thighs touching in unacknowledged closeness, the time they had left diminishing with every pass of the bottle.

"There is this charming little Italian restaurant in San Diego," said Billie. "It serves the most amazing house wine, imported from the family's winery back in Sicily." She placed the bottle on the floor and turned to face Sara. "I'm going to make a reservation for two, for exactly six months and one day from today."

"Hot date?"

"I hope so."

Shaking her head, Sara condemned their chances. "It'd never work. We've too much history."

"Then I guess I have six months to change your mind."

Sara didn't object when Billie reached for her, the taste of alcohol mixing with the taste of each other as their mouths met in a kiss that left them breathless.

Sara smiled into Billie's neck and, for the first time that day, she allowed herself to wallow in the pleasure of being in Billie's company. The past betrayal was, momentarily, forgotten.

"I hope you do, Billie. I really hope you do."

The End

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