Still own absolutely nothing...drat.

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TAG TEAM

Diana Crescent

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DAY ONE

Having been given a heads up (so she'd eavesdropped a little, but what Bo didn't know didn't hurt Kenzi in this case), Kenzi was already prepared for what was coming momentarily. The only thing she didn't know about, was who was going to get her for a partner. She hoped to God it was Trick. Or Hale. Either would do perfectly fine and she could pass the weekend fairly nicely and not have to worry about being a nuisance or dying.

She bit her lip as Bo held out the bag to the men, letting them chose their female counterpart. She closed her eyes tightly and prayed that if she'd ever done anything worthy of getting a favor from on high, that she could cash in said favor at this moment. It was not to be.

Bo, intent on keeping their rag-tag team of Garuda fighting faebies banded together, had decided that they needed to do some "Team Building", and—horror of all horrors—Trick had agreed. Thus, they were all now standing in the Dal waiting to get partnered up and make their way out to the wilderness where, as Bo had just announced, they would spend three days working together. If that wasn't bad enough, they were going to be surprise attacked at least once a day and would have to learn to watch each other's backs. Kenzi, for her part, was dreading the next three days. She also knew that everyone, except Bo, was hoping they weren't paired with her. She tried not to be offended, because on the practical side of things, she realized she was human but it was like gym class all over again. Lauren only had an edge because she was a doctor.

Hale was the first to pull out a name, and he tossed the little disc to his baby sister, Val, and smiled. Kenzi mentally sighed. Trick still had his turn to go, so there was no point freaking out yet. She still had a chance. Vex pulled the next name, and Kenzi very quietly muttered "Oh please no, oh please no," several dozen times. He seemed to go in slow motion.

"Seems like it's you and me, baby," he said with a little lecherous smirk at Bo, and Kenzi let out a really loud sigh of relief—so loud that Bo glared while Hale tried not to laugh and Dyson's lip quirked.

She could tell though. With Dyson and Trick left to draw, and only Kenzi and Lauren left to be picked, the situation was tense. Dyson was frowning heavily, and Kenzi couldn't blame him. He'd either spend the weekend with Doctor Hotpants—a woman he detested most days and Bo's current lady love—or with Kenzi, the annoying human who barely stayed on his good side. And only when he remembered the berserkers and the Norn—which was becoming less and less as more and more weeks passed.

In fact, since that time right after the Garuda, Dyson had become exceedingly distant and become an ass, but only to her. He seemed to enjoy being mean to her, and on a good day, he avoided her like the Black Plague. She had begun doing the same after a particularly nasty argument over her asking if he wanted to play pool. She wasn't ready to admit how much it hurt her to be treated this way, and she knew this was part of the reason Bo had decided to do Team Building activities.

Trick stuck his hand into the black velvet bag, and Kenzi was ready to get on her knees in supplication to the heavens.

"Looks like it's you and me Doc," the Blood King said with a smile.

Kenzi felt a bubble of insane, panicked laughter well up within her. She barely swallowed it back, before sending Dyson her brightest, sincerest smile, no matter how fake the feelings were behind it. She'd do this for Bo, because Bo was her friend and she'd do her best to be a good partner.

Dyson looked less than thrilled. Kenzi felt nausea settle deep in the pit of her stomach and she felt like the knobby-kneed dorky girl picked last in gym like she was so many years ago.

Bo, for once noticing the atmosphere and reading the situation for what it was, didn't point out the obvious. "Well, you all have your bag packed, so we might as well go on. You all have a map to your campsite, a set of sixteen conversation starters, and three days to work together. Good luck."

Kenzi smiled at Dyson, and just followed behind him when he said nothing, stalking out of the Dal towards his car. She went and retrieved her backpack and duffel from Bo's trunk. The backpack was relatively light—she knew how to spend three days roughing it, be it the streets or the wilderness—and the duffel was so heavy she couldn't quite remember just how she'd managed to get it in the trunk in the first place. She dragged it behind her, haltingly, straining her muscles to the ten feet to Dyson's trunk.

He didn't offer to help.

"We're not taking your shoes."

Kenzi rolled her eyes. She didn't bother correcting him. "We're not leaving this bag, wolf-boy."

Dyson looked ready to argue, but then, so did she. She was pretty sure her uterus had fallen out after that last tug, and his attitude was starting to grate on her nerves. It wasn't like she wanted him as a partner either.

His mouth tightened, and he merely quirked a brow. She watched him turn around, away from her and stalk to the driver's side of the car. She snarled at his back, message received. She wouldn't leave the bag? She'd carry said bag.

Ten minutes later, she finally shut the trunk, barely able to breathe correctly. All the others had left by this time, and she settled herself into the passenger's seat. She fumbled with her seat belt, fingers numb, and eyesight hazy. This was going to be the worst weekend of her life—and if not the worst, definitely on her top ten.

It was a very long, very silent drive north.

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Four hours of driving later, Kenzi had spent another hour dragging her bag—uphill—before she reached the campsite, marked by black and pink ribbons, which Dyson had reached forty-five minutes prior. He was waiting on her, with stones already set up for the fire and logs moved for seats.

She sat on the ground twenty feet away, not sure she could make it the rest of the distance.

He merely smirked. "I'm going to get firewood. Do something useful, like throw your boots away."

Kenzi waved that she'd heard him, now staring at the sky. She wasn't sure when she'd gone from sitting up to laying on her back, but she didn't feel so woozy and her body was screaming in pain. Now was a good time to get started on getting camp set up, so she forced herself to get up.

Opening her duffel bag, she smiled. Truly, the pain was worth it.

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When Dyson returned to camp, some two hours later, his arms were full of sticks for the fire. He'd gone to get rid of his temper and to clear his head. He hadn't been expecting to walk into a real camp.

Kenzi's duffel bag was empty and deflated, as tired as Kenzi was from carrying such a heavy load.

A bag of food was tied high up into a tree with good rope, a cast iron dutch oven sat full of freshly chopped vegetables on a stump, a keyhole pit had been dug from where he'd placed the stones, a wrought iron stand for the dutch oven was already assembled waiting to be placed over the fire, and a tent— barely big enough for two—was pitched at the far end away from the fire.

He nearly dropped the kindling. At that moment, Kenzi stepped out of the tent, wiping sweat from her forehead. Not seeing him in the treeline, she went to her backpack and pulled out two woolen blankets. He cleared his throat, and her eyes jerked to meet his.

"I brought you a blanket. I didn't know if my partner would know to bring one or not," was all she said, before taking both blankets into the tent.

He grimaced before swallowing his pride, and went about making the fire and putting the food on to cook. She'd brought a roast with all of the side vegetabless—carrots, potatoes, mushrooms, and tomatoes. He had expected to hunt, but Kenzi had thought of it all it seemed.

She came back out and sat across from him, her tiny arms—encased in a too-big sweater—wrapped around her thin legs, looking alone and solemn.

"I'm sorry. For being an ass," he said, meaning every word.

"I'm sorry too," was her quiet, subdued response. She was busy staring at the fire.

Dyson frowned, not understanding why she would apologize, but just nodded once. They sat in silence for several minutes, awkwardly looking at anything but each other.

Kenzi cleared her throat, and Dyson snapped his attention to her.

"So...do you want to go ahead and go through some of those conversation starters? I think Bo plans on quizzing us."

Dyson sighed, and shook his head in disbelief. "Why not."

Kenzi nodded, biting her lip. She fished out the two sets of index cards from a manila envelope containing the map as well as several other items. She tossed him a set and looked through her own. There were instructions.

Dyson read his out loud while Kenzi rifled through the different questions her set contained. They were all numbered. "Each person will alternate asking a question. Both parties will answer the question honestly—there's an ancient fae spell ensuring you speak the truth, so don't lie. The person with the question labeled number one will begin by asking the question. The second party will respond and then ask for the first party's answer when they are finished. The first party will then answer. No interruptions should take place. The questioning will repeat with the second party asking. All answers should be explained in depth. Only ask questions if you feel like you require more information, and only after the party is done answering. This process will repeat until all questions are asked and answered. You may ask as many questions as you choose per day, so long as all questions have been asked by the end of the exercise."

Kenzi sighed, and looked at her first number. Two. She looked at Dyson expectantly. They had a little while before the roast was done, anyway.

Dyson rolled his eyes at the first question. "What is your favorite color?"

Kenzi replied, "Green. Sour apple green. It was the color of my father's eyes, and it reminds me of him. What is yours?" The sensation was odd. It wasn't so much that she had to blurt out the answer, but that she felt compelled—a serious need—to tell him the truth, and to explain herself.

"Blue. My clan, back in Scotland...our tartans were hazy blue and black. It reminds me of home."

Kenzi nodded, looking at her first question. "What is your favorite food?"

Dyson frowned. "Rabbit stew. My mother would make it during the winter, and while it boiled, my father would roughhouse with us or tell us stories. And yours?"

"Macaroni and cheese. When my father got...sick...he craved homemade mac and cheese. We'd eat it all of the time together, and he would steal some of mine to tease me. I didn't mind, because..." she took a deep breath. "Because it meant he was eating. He was too sick some days because of the medication."

Dyson looked at her and her haunted eyes. "What did he have?"

Kenzi looked surprised at his question. "Cancer. A brain tumor. I was five."

Dyson just cleared his throat and asked his next question. "Your favorite hobby?"

"Playing the drums or violin. N-nate taught me the drums when I was six. I picked up the violin thanks to my Uncle Vlad." She sighed, clearly not liking having to answer the questions. "And yours?"

"Working out and collecting stamps."

"Seriously?"

"There's a lot of money if you collect them long enough. I use them for financial reasons."

Kenzi looked somewhat impressed, and simply nodded. They sat there a minute, before she pulled out her next card. "What is your favorite type of music?"

"Rock. It helps clear my head. You?"

Kenzi smiled, "I like musicals. My grandmother would watch them all the time, and we'd sing the songs together. They always make me happy."

Dyson laughed at that. "I wasn't expecting that from you."

"I wasn't expecting stamps from you," she rolled her eyes

Dyson smiled. "How did you know to bring all of this? It's an unfair advantage if you were told and no one else. Even Bo and Trick didn't take supplies." For the first time in several months, he was teasing her.

Kenzi bit her lip, and her eyes twinkled in the growing darkness. "I overheard her on the phone with Trick. She mentioned what they were doing, and I thought...it wouldn't hurt them if I knew...and it wouldn't hurt me if they didn't know that I knew. So, I made a list and did some research, and brought along supplies. Do you know how hard it was to steal a tent, even one that little?"

Dyson looked down, his shoulders shaking. As a police officer, he found Kenzi frustrating. As a friend, he found her refreshing. She knew no rules. "You crazy human."

A growl off to their right surprised them both. Kenzi stood up, fearfully stepping closer to him, nearly running into the fire. Dyson quickly caught her arm, preventing her from burning, and pulled her close to his body. Out of the gloaming shadows came four hairy monsters, eyes glowing a wicked red. Dyson bared his wolf teeth, his eyes glowing a bright gold and placed Kenzi behind him.

"Dyson," she warned lowly. She didn't want him hurt, and it was four to one. He was good, but she feared for him.

Two of them immediately leaped at him from opposite sides, and in the growing darkness Kenzi—who was willing to admit she needed serious glasses at the moment—couldn't see anything except the glowing eyes of the two other monsters. "What the hell, did somebody feed you after midnight or something? Give you a bath? If not they should have, you reek!"

Dyson let out a roar as he took a hit. Kenzi picked up a rather large stick that was burning brightly on one end. She waved the fire at the two other beasts, an arc of light bursting in the darkness, leaving part of her vision blind. One of the monsters rushed her and she spun away, focusing on not getting caught. His coat of matted fur smoldered as she grazed him, and a howl shook the trees. Feeling, rather than seeing, the second come after, she spun the fire-stick under her arm, hoping she wouldn't catch herself on fire in the process and stabbed backwards, not even turning around.

Suddenly, her light was extinguished, and a jarring shove pushed at her, causing her to stumble forward and lose her footing. The creature behind her quickly caught on fire and became ashes, even as his blood poured from the wound she'd delivered.

Unable to celebrate, Kenzi skittered on hands and knees back towards the fire, barely noticing how Dyson continued to fight his remaining monster. Just as she reached for another branch, a strong claw grasped her ankle, twisting and jerking. Reflexively yelping, she found herself on her back, being dragged toward jagged teeth in dripping jaws.

"Dyson!" She yelled, kicking with all her might. She managed to deliver a wicked blow to a knee thanks to her chunky sole. She crab walked back to the fire, careful not to rush straight into it. She grabbed a branch, and swiped the air in front of her. The monster, cautious, shifted to her left and she kept the fire aloft. Slowly, she got to her feet.

With two hands, she held the torch before her like a sword. An odd thought rattled through her terrified brain at that moment—she'd left her sword at home by accident. It was sitting next to the door. The post-it note reminding her not to forget it was in her jeans pocket. "Shit."

The monster grinned cruelly, and she felt her fear and horror grow. It pounced, thinking she would freeze.

Again, Kenzi spun, slamming the heavy branch into its back, causing it to tumble into the fire—and their roast. Her impromptu weapon broke in half, the burning end falling to the dirt and dying out almost instantly.

The dutch oven hit the ground, spilling into the fire, quenching it instantly, even as the monster sizzled into nothing but ash.

Darkness poured over her, and she was terribly aware that there was no moon in the sky, and only the sound of her own breathing greeted her ears.

A sound behind her startled her, causing her to turn quickly, branch still in hand. A hand caught her weapon, and Dyson's yellow eyes glowed faintly.

Her ragged breathing grew worse and she launched herself into his arms, her own clutching him tightly. A sob escaped her throat. Something wet and sticky on her hands brought her out of her own mind. "You're hurt."

"Not bad. Are you?"

"No."

"Good. We'll need to make another fire."

"We can tomorrow. I have flashlights in the tent. And a first-aid kit."

Dyson nodded, glancing down at the remainder of their supper. "I don't suppose you have food somewhere other than up in the tree."

"Peanut butter and Oreos count?"

Dyson let out an amused, small chuckle. "It'll do."

Kenzi nodded, and let him lead her to the tent. Once inside, he stripped out of his ruined shirt, and Kenzi found the flashlight, water bottles, and first-aid kit. Settling on the queen-sized air mattress (a tight squeeze in the tent) he faced away from her. Her tiny hands still shaking, she began to clean up his back, trying to hold the flashlight between her teeth.

"I suppose you have questions?"

Kenzi did her best to make a sound in the affirmative, but found herself drooling all over the flashlight.

"Those were Mogwais."

The light fell from her mouth as her jaw dropped. "As in 'Gremlins'? So I was right in my sarcasm?"

Dyson chuckled. "Gremlins and mogwais are two different things. Similar in looks, only mogwais have furry bodies, not reptilian. The movie had that wrong, but the rest right. Light and fire kills them. They breed in water. You did really well," he complimented, hissing at the end when she disinfected a particularly nasty cut in iodine.

"Sorry," she whispered softly.

Dyson sighed. "That's alright."

"No, I—I'm sorry you got stuck with me as a partner. I know you didn't want to."

Dyson turned his body as Kenzi began on another cut. He stopped her hand, and lifted her face to look at his. "I think I ended up being the luckiest to get you as a partner. I've got a tent, a blanket, food, and medicine—what's with the queen-size mattress anyway?

"Two twins wouldn't fit, and it was easier to steal one anyway."

Dyson snorted, then winced as it jarred a cut. "Well, it seems like you got the sour end of the deal. Not me."

Kenzi frowned. "I'm pretty sure I didn't."

Dyson's thumb caressed her chin. "I hope you don't mind it's me."

Kenzi gave him a half-smile, eyes glowing. "It could be worse. It could be Vex."

Dyson laughed. "You could be Lauren...or Val."

Kenzi smiled, and went back to putting bandages on him.

After she was done, she cleaned both of them up and dug out the Oreos and the peanut butter. They both got comfortable and began scooping the creamy spread with the sandwich cookies.

"My next question was who is your best friend?" Dyson asked, popping the entire cookie into his mouth and crunching down.

Kenzi gently peeled her cookie apart before scraping off the double-stuffing with her bottom teeth. The other, clean half was used to scoop peanut butter and then re-sandwiched and promptly eaten. "Bo. She's like my sister. She's...she's the only family I've had in a long time. You?"

Dyson, chewing on another confection, swallowed, and cleared his throat. "I suppose..." she could tell he was fighting the admission that was coming, but he sighed. "I suppose I'd have to say you."

Kenzi blinked in surprise, and stopped mid-scrape. "Me?"

"You always stand by me, no matter what. You fight me and for me, where others...don't care. I trust you more than others."

Kenzi stared wide-eyed. "D-man, are you sure you didn't get hit in the head? You don't even like me."

Dyson frowned. "Of course I like you Kenz."

"You've been an absolute jerk-face for weeks. And when you're not, you're avoiding me like crazy."

Dyson flushed slightly, and she felt herself gaping. "It's not that I don't like you Kenz...it's something else."

Noticing he didn't want to talk about it, she let the issue drop.

Several hours later, they both lay awake. Dyson lay on his back, hands and arms folded underneath his head. Kenzi lay with her back to him, on her side curled up in a fetal position, both thinking about the day gone by.

"Kenzi?"

"Hmm?"

"You really did well tonight," he whispered. She had killed two mogwais, same as him, and gotten less injuries. He felt proud of her, and he sincerely doubted that the other teams would fare so well against the four monsters.

"Well, someone has to be kick-ass around here." She felt pleased with herself for proving herself today.

Dyson chuckled.

Several minutes passed. "Dyson?"

"Hmm?"

"How does this work? The mogwais, I mean. Did we really kill them, because I can't see Bo convincing fae to go to their death...not without a thrall, of course."

"The flags marking the campsite mark the magical barrier. It was a simulation. Those weren't real mogwais."

"Oh..." She felt a little less pleased with herself.

Dyson, hearing it in her voice, explained further. "It's like a magical space-time simulation. Those weren't real mogwais, but it was a real-life simulation of them. If they had been real, nothing would have changed. You still would have beaten them."

"Oh..." She felt a little more warmth at that. "So this is like virtual reality fighting?"

"Injuries and all."

She carefully turned over to face him. "Do they hurt?"

"No. I heal quickly anyway."

She reached out and patted his arm awkwardly.

Dyson removed his arm from behind his head. He took her hand, and held it against his chest, over the strong tempo of his heart, and kept it there. "Good night, Kenzi."

"Sweet dreams Dyson."

They drifted off into the realm of dreams like that, her hand over his heart, and his hand over hers.

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