Kate Lockley (hard_on_herself) wrote in _nowhereland_,
Kate Lockley

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Oz is just a fairytale. And I don't believe in fairytales...

I slowly raised my head from the ground, where it had been laying for, probably the last sixteen hours. Damn, who'd I try and drink under the table last night? I couldn't remember drinking so much, actually, rarely, if at all since my last little chaser. The one in which Angel came in uninvited and saved my ass.

But, I was a cop's daughter, and I was a cop myself. And I knew the distinct feeling of having too much beer or hard liquor in your system.

Because the minute I raised my head? I realized it was probably one of the biggest mistakes I'd ever made, and I put it back down.

I knew I needed to suck it up, and get up. For God's sake, I was on someone's lawn. Whose? Damned if I knew. But they probably wouldn't like it too much when they came out for the paper, and saw an adult blonde woman, passed out on their grass like some college slut.

Now those were the days. Throwing them back with the boys, and doing the Walk Of Shame probably more than my Dad would have ever allowed, if he'd even known. Or if he'd cared past the fact that his little girl was fitting right in with the boys, and not making a fool of him like he first feared.

R.I.P. Trevor. You got everything you wanted in life. A career that no other cop could touch, and a daughter who was the son you'd always wanted.

Not that, any of this psychoanalyzing or nostalgia was helping with the fact that I had no memory of the events that put me face down on... all this lushness.

I finally raised my head, ignoring the consequences of the liquid feeling of my brain, and of the grass imprints on my face. Digging both palms into the ground, and sliding my body up to a sitting position, I noticed several things;

I could count at least two suns.

Everyone that I could see looked pretty damned confused.

And we definitely weren't in Los Angeles anymore.

"Okay," I said. "That's it."

Garnering my strength and years of strength training, I managed to pull myself to my feet. Not exactly the easiest task, but I accomplished it.

Putting my hands on my hips, I called out to anyone, and practically everyone.

"Who the Hell put something in my drink, what exactly was it, and just know that I will kick your ass just as soon as my vision's back to seeing only one sun."

((Open to whoever))
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