Galatea(2/8)

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Spoilers: None. You can imagine this sometime during the second or third season. Your choice.

Disclaimers: The characters and situations of the television program "Charlie's Angels" are the creations and property of Spelling-Goldberg Productions and Columbia Pictures Television, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. However, I retain the rights to the plot. You may download and distribute this story as long as my name stays on the by-line.

Rating: R

Summary: Part 2 of the Significant Other fanfic. Alan and Kelly have an argument outside the office and he and Doug take off to shoot some pool.

Acknowledgments: This is for Claire, who always makes me feel that there's someone out there who will love us as much as this character loves Kelly.

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We polished off our breakfast and made our way out of the building. The day had long since stretched its arms and was now beating down on the California pavement. The sky was filled with raw, bunched clouds. Her yellow Mustang exhaled the heat of the morning as she opened the door. The baked air from the car was dense and torpid, Kelly paused before she risked sitting down.

Shielding her eyes from the sunlight, she looked crisp. Focused in a exacting telephoto lens, the lush forests of her hair were in direct contrast to her sedate clothing. Kelly stuck her hand into the car tentatively, testing the temperature of the air. She sighed in resignation and sat down.

"What time is your first class?" she asked, her lithe legs crossing the distance between pedals and seat perfectly. She was wearing jeans that left no curve to the imagination and a blue pencil-striped shirt, beneath which you could just make out the edges of the pistol she had tucked into the small of her back.

I hated that thing, and she knew it. I hated the fact that she needed to carry it around, that she used it so comfortably, and wore it like a second skin. Most of all I hated the fact that all sorts of lunatics and rapists had guns as well, and had less compunction about using them.

"Sex."

"What?!" I yelped.

"Now that I have your attention," she smirked, "I asked you what time your first class was."

"Oh. OH. Uh, ten." I said. "And another at two."

"Great. Get in the car." she said, reaching over to unlock the passenger side.

"Where are we going?"

"You can come along to the office with me and hitch a ride with Doug." she explained. "I really don't understand why you don't get a car of your own."

I cleared my throat and made a show of emptying my pockets.

"Well, yeah, aside from that." she smiled. "I could teach you how to drive."

"Oh, I just bet you could…" She cocked an eyebrow at me in an amused and unspoken question.

"While you and Kris were vamping at the disco last week, Bri told me exactly how well you can drive a car."

She grinned. "Don't worry, my drag-racing, hot-rod days are over. Although I would love to ask Charlie to get this model with a stick-shift."

"What for?" I asked. "Isn't the automatic transmission more convenient?"

"I'd have more control." Kelly drove up the ramp to the freeway and sped up, boxing out a pick-up that had wanted to pass her. She sped up to a cruise speed of about 55 mph and continued as if nothing had happened.

"Jill and I have been begging Charlie for cars with manual transmissions since we started working for him."

I gave a low whistle. "Manipulation in stereo. The man is probably stone deaf."

"Better deaf than broke." she laughed. "I'm sure Charlie's glad that Kris didn't take after her in that arena. Kris will argue you to the ground before she even resorts to…"

"Whining?"

Kelly grinned. "I was going to put it nicely."

I found my mouth echoing the arc of her smile. "What happens when all three of you want something?"

"I don't know about Charlie, but Bos caves in right away." Kelly said. "Imagine: Kris's fervor, my shameless tactics, and Bri's unshakable logic."

I put my hands up in surrender. "Speaking of Bosley's Harem…"

"That's Charlie's Angels."

"Whatever, as long as you're mine." I said lightly. "You are going to be here for the show, aren't you?"

Kelly pulled into the Agency's street and parallel-parked behind the Cobra II. She turned off the engine and paused to look at me. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that."

I shook my head, as if to clear it of the frustration that fogged up my vision.

"Alan, it's not that I don't want to be there. I do. We all do. You know that." She pleaded. "I just can't say for sure whether or not the case will last until then."

I got out of the car and took my duffel bag from the back seat of the Mustang.

"Alan…"

"Whatever." I said curtly. "If you're there, you're there. If not, too bad."

"Please." Kelly said, locking the car and placing her hand on my arm. "Don't be this way…"

"No, no, I understand." I said, throwing up my hands in defeat. "If I wasn't understanding about your hours and your job you'd be forced to dump me, wouldn't you?"

"What?"

"How convenient for you, Kelly. I'd be yet another lover who just wouldn't understand…"

She gave a little gasp, her eyes pulling tight at the corners, as though someone had taken hold of her hair and yanked it upward so that her scalp stung.

"What is this chip on your shoulder all of a sudden?" she said tersely. "What does it matter how many men I've had? I'm with you now."

"Are you?" I asked. The daylight was starting to sting, its rays thrust at my eyes like rapiers. I narrowed my eyes to keep her in focus, straining to see any hint of emotion that would cross her face, any answer her features would provide. She only took a breath and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Kelly," I sighed. "I don't care about your other lovers, I don't care about Charles Townsend and his wonderful agency. I care about you. I was under the impression that you gave me more than a passing thought."

"This is what I do, Alan." she replied quietly. "This is what I'm good at. I love working here. Being a private eye… it's part of me. I don't really want to do anything else, at least, not right now."

"Did I say I wanted you to quit working?" I said. "I didn't ask you to run away with me, live in a trailer, and bake pies for the rest of your life. I know you love your work as much as I love mine. I just wonder why your job always takes priority."

"It's different." she said huffily.

"Damn straight."

"Alan, I save lives." she declared. "I make a difference."

"And I don't?"

"Look, I'll try to be there."

"That's not good enough anymore, Kelly." I said.

Kelly looked taut, pulled in every direction. She let out a harsh breath. She was like a priestess trying to divine an answer that would placate me. "I don't want to make you a promise I can't keep."

"Why not?" I retorted. "I've become so used to it."

"You're acting like a spoiled child."

"You're indifferent and flippant about the things I care about. Like our relationship."

She bit her lower lip in vexation.

"Don't belittle what I do, Kelly. Never scoff at my work or my feelings for you." I said, slinging my duffel bag over my shoulder. "I can only be pushed so far."

I walked to the door of the office. I heard Kelly let her breath out in a rush of exhalation. Then the cadence of her footsteps told me she was following me up the path.

The office of Townsend and Associates was sleek and functionally furnished. The first floor housed a prodigious library filled with case files and books on everything from organic chemistry to art history. Every phone book ever printed was neatly catalogued in Bosley's handwriting and stacked by state and date.

The actual office was on the second floor, a wide oak desk and comfortable chair dominated the room. This was complemented by a set of couches plushly upholstered by the swankiest interior decorator in the city. The room was dotted with art objects from the Far East and the bar was stocked with the best liquor. There was even a fireplace and a convertible movie screen on top of the mantle.

The entire office evinced a feral power and cunning mastery wedded to an aristocratic tact and diplomacy. It was hard not to feel slightly wary of the strength that came from this room. I'm sure clients took refuge in that strength, but it only seemed to heighten the lopsidedness of my relationship with Kelly.

I had opened the door for her and she had breezed by me without a word. True to her prediction, Sabrina was already seated at the desk, her nails tapping fretfully against her glass of orange juice. Kris was seated at the bar, yawning as Doug poured her some coffee.

"Hey…" Bri said in greeting, unable to stifle a small yawn. Kelly smiled at the other two women and sat down on the couch. Her brow furrowed as she asked where Bosley was.

"Search me." Kris said with a shrug.

"Is that an invitation?" Doug teased, he leaned on the bar and smiled at her suggestively. Kris only rolled her eyes and hopped off the stool. Standing on tip-toe, she gave me a peck on the cheek.

"Why so glum?" she asked. "Tense about the exhibit?"

I forced a smile. "Sort of."

"You know," Sabrina suggested, "my ex-brother-in-law has a decent band. You could hire them to play during the exhibit."

I bit my lip. Bri and I had been friends in high school, but I had lost contact with her when she was at the Academy. We'd become re-acquainted at court. I had to do some editorial cartoons for the LA Times and she had come out of the first hearing for her divorce. I would have thought that I could recognize her anywhere, considering how close we had been, but a sharp sadness jabbed at her features. A sadness that had become familiar to both of us.

Knowing how strained her relationship with her ex-husband was right now, I immediately felt touched by her offer to have anything more to do with him.

"Just give me your brother-in-law's number." I said.

"Don't be ridiculous." she snorted. "You have enough to worry about, and besides, he'll give you a discount if he knows you're a friend of mine."

"You okay about dealing with Bill?" Doug asked, picking up on my thoughts. Sabrina's eyes met mine and I shrugged, letting her know that I didn't want her to do anything that would make her uncomfortable. She smiled and shook her head.

"Don't be silly." she assured me. "It's no trouble at all. Just a couple of phone calls."

"Well, okay." I said. "Thanks."

Doug slung his arm around me. "With your paintings and photos, my food, and these lovely ladies as bait there's no way your exhibit will bomb."

"Bait?" Kris repeated.

"Would you rather Alan use me?" Bosley's gravelly voice came from behind me. He tried to strike the pose of a flamboyant pin-up at the doorway, but only succeeded in looking like a flamingo with rheumatism. The girls' laughter filled the room. I couldn't help but smile at the sight of Kelly's lustrous eyes and the gentle way happiness shook her. I loved watching her come loose and alive, her cautiously erected barriers tumbling with each laugh.

I placed my hand on her shoulder, and she returned my gaze. Doug kissed Kris goodbye, and I wished for the umpteenth time that Kelly wouldn't mind me doing the same. I heard Sabrina ribbing Bosley about being late, but the memory of the skin beneath Kelly's shirt captured my undivided attention.

"Think about what I said." I whispered, squeezing her shoulder. Kelly nodded slightly, her hand coming to rest on top of mine. I felt the urge to touch the cupid's bow of her lips, but the shrill ring of the phone ushered Mr. Townsend in and Doug and I threw ourselves out on the street.

He shook his head with a humorously resigned look on his face. "Need a ride?"

"Yeah, thanks." I said, slinging the duffel bag on my other shoulder. We walked to his black jeep in silence. The old Isuzu looked great under a new coat of wax, but a practiced eye could see that it was on its last legs.

"You should retire this car…" I remarked.

"Are you kidding?" Doug replied. "No. She's still got a few miles in her."

I shrugged. "You should think of getting a car more appropriate to your lifestyle. It's not like you can't afford a new one. Maybe a Porsche?"

"More appropriate to my lifestyle? I like that," he smirked. "Sounds like something a reporter for People magazine would say."

I chuckled and climbed into his beloved jeep. Doug would never buy a sports car. He was still the same solid, honest, earthy guy I knew in college.

"So what was that all about?" he asked.

"All of what?"

"You know," Doug repeated, turning around in his seat to back out of the parking space, "that thing in the office with Kelly. You two weren't exactly chummy this morning."

I snorted in derision. "It's not as if we're bursting with passion whenever we're together."

Doug glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. He opened his mouth to speak, but exhaled the sentiment away.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he replied. "You just have this habit."

"What habit?"

"You keep reading too much into the things people say." he said bluntly.

"Sometimes people don't have an ulterior motive, Alan. There doesn't always have to be a deeper, intense meaning. What you see is what you get."

"That's what I'm afraid of." I admitted. "You don't like what you're seeing?"

"I don't know what I'm seeing." I stated. "She's like… she's like this damned chameleon. She smiles at me but she won't let me in. One moment she's lying on my bed, in my sweatshirt, reading the newspapers… and I get a sense of her. Then I meet her at her house after a session at the firing range, her breath is fogging up the picture window, and she's brooding…she's totally different. "

"Quit trying to figure her out, Alan." Doug commented. "You'll wreck everything if you try to pry apart what makes her tick. I told you. Just leave it alone."

"I just want to know who she is, what she thinks, how she feels…" I said.

"Oh, please." Doug said. "You want control."

"No, I don't."

"I don't believe you. And neither would Kelly." Doug said. "Would you just stop being such a wimp? This sensitive artist thing is going to kill both of you. You should be thrilled. You've gotten what you wished for…"

"What?"

"A woman who's got baggage that matches yours." Doug chuckled, but quickly turned it into a cough when he realized I wasn't laughing.

"Just because you've found yourself the idyllic relationship doesn't mean everyone else's problems are simple." I said with some heat.

Doug ignored the barb and kept driving. "Just cool it. A woman likes to be invited, not invaded. She's not going anywhere. You've got lots of time to get to know each other."

"Really?" I shook my head. "Sometimes I wonder… she's away for days and she never calls. She comes home and she's got bruises on her ribs or wounds on her arms… I think: how close did she come to getting seriously hurt this time?"

Doug pressed his lips together in terse recognition. "And the limited explanations don't help either. Kris skins her leg jumping out of a dumpster, gets the flu crawling through a concrete pipe, sprains her ankle jumping from a two-storey building…"

"At least Kris lets you take care of her." I said shortly. "I'm beginning to feel like a glorified dildo and first-aid kit."

He looked at me quietly and turned into the next exit.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Benny's." he replied. "I'd better put a cue and a beer in your hands before you go off half-cocked and do something you'll regret."