Characters: Agent Kim, Kellerman (Gen, Humor, Crack)
Summary: Revenge fantasy on everyone’s least favorite FBI agent.
Author’s Notes: This came out of a funny poll on my journal, where alazysod demanded the crackFic version of this. Ouila!
The way he heard it, Kellerman came in through her bedroom window.
Has to be a lie, though, because that’s impossible. She’s the President. She lives in a virtual fortress made up of the security detail around her.
Still, Kellerman had gotten to her somehow. All those lies and waylaid phone calls Kim had invested in to keep the guy out of the loop, and all it took was two minutes of Kellerman holding her hands and pledging his love for her, and that was it. Kellerman was in, and he was out.
Oh, it wasn’t quite that simple. First, there was the humiliation and flaunting.
“Bill, we have something to tell you.”
“Oh, let me Caroline, please.”
“All right, of course. Go ahead.”
“You’re an orphan, Bill. That’s right!" Kellerman laughed. "I got a little busy on the way over here last night, paid your parents a visit. I see where you get that sharp tongue from, let me tell you. Let’s just say that your mother has nagged her last nag, and the world is grateful."
Kim choked. “You—you bastard!”
“Wait, there’s more. They had a boatload of money lying around the house—probably meant for you, but you won’t have to bother yourself about that. I’m an expert at tidying up.”
"Though you could probably use it right about now, because you’re—"
“Fired,” the President finished firmly. “I don’t know what they taught you about loyalty at the Academy, agent Kim, but keeping my right-hand man away from me was neither your duty nor your prerogative.” She swept her arm toward the door. “Agent Kellerman will escort you out of the building. Your personal belongings will be forwarded to you later.”
They’d done Kellerman’s version of the perp-walk, Kellerman smirking and digging his fingers into Kim’s elbow as they moved through the halls. Kim could feel the bounce in Kellerman’s step beside him, and he yanked his arm loose in anger.
“Let go of me!” he’d said.
“Don’t speak.” Kellerman had gripped his elbow again. “You have nothing of interest to say to anyone now, Bill.”
The rest of the day had not gone well, to say the least.
His records were stripped down to the bare bones of firearms training, and yet he still existed. The President must have kept Kellerman from turning the tables and “erasing” him in return, because god knew Kellerman wasn’t that decent. Couldn’t be. Though the thought that he might be kept eating away at Kim, and it wouldn’t go away.
So months later, Kim finds himself exactly eligible to do little more than become a security guard at one of the city’s shopping malls. On the late-hour shifts, after the stores are closed, the job sometimes includes mopping. Kim can hear Kellerman laughing inside his head every time he pulls the bucket out of the utility closet.
"Base to 4A1," Kim’s radio squawks now, as he waits at the food court.
"Reports of a shoplifter at Sears. I’ll meet you there to show you the ropes."
"No ‘buts,’ you’re still a rookie. Get moving. Base out."
If the trash barrel in front of him were Kellerman’s head, it would explode from Kim’s glare, he is sure of it.
This is not the end, he thinks viciously.
His moment of determination is quickly aborted when the little girl pushing past him stumbles and squashes her ice cream all over his pants…
------ fin ------