Title: Firing Line Series: Dredd 2012

Type: Fanfiction Pairing: Dredd/Anderson Rating: 15

Summary: After destroying the slow-mo manufacturing plant in Peach Trees, Judge Joseph Dredd has the chance to present Cassandra Anderson with her badge. Both street judges need healing; physically and emotionally… but where do they start?

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Judge Dredd characters or anything from the universe of Dredd. I am just taking the characters and playing with them a while – promising to restore them whole and unblemished! Thanks to the makers of Judge Dredd films and comics for creating these toys for me to enjoy. Please don't take any of my playing as having any bearing on the comics or films. Enjoy.

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It was all about the badge.

Perhaps, to most, it was a chunk of metal... but to Dredd, it was a statement; a way of life.

It was the law; as he was the law... as the rookie he was visiting in the medical centre was the law.

He felt it with every fibre of his being; she was a kindred spirit, she was a judge… as much as she didn't quite believe it.

"What's so hard to understand," Dredd asked, feeling an odd sense of pride fill him, "you passed, Rookie. You're a Street Judge… it's down to you whether that's a good thing or not."

Cassandra Anderson looked hesitant as she eyed her mentor.

Dredd gave nothing away. It was the way he had become; hard to those around him. He tried to recall a time when the mask he wore had been a simple shield to protect himself from the hard-line he threw down in his work… but the mask had grafted onto him a little too well and absorbed into each and every aspect of his existence.

He didn't have friends. He didn't have family. He never let anyone in that close…

The mutant in front of him was probably in a position to know him better than most; she could read minds, after all. It was something he wasn't quite comfortable with…

"You… passed me?" She asked, slowly. "Even though I lost my weapon and I was taken captive."

Dredd didn't make a move, "There were extenuating circumstances."

If truth be told; he admired her. She hadn't given up. She had even spoken back to him… to him! Judge Dredd… the Judge all other Judges shuddered to see…

Anderson continued her observations.

She had better not be rooting about in my brain, he thought, pointedly, or else.

But the blonde before him didn't react.

Perhaps she had the moral fortitude not to reach into another person's mind without just cause. Dredd was slightly envious of her ability… it would make his job far easier… the dispensation of justice would be a lot more certain and far quicker if all judges could read minds.

"What are you thinking?" He found himself asking, surprising himself as much as the doe-eyed young woman lying on the medical bed.

Anderson blinked, "I was told that you were amongst the meanest Judges on the street," she said, still watching him. "I was told you very rarely give a pass to a rookie…"

"You got what it takes, Anderson," Dredd shifted, his leathers creaking as weight moved nervously from one foot to the other. "Call it my gut instinct."

She finally looked away from him, "I heard about what you've been through… and I felt how it's changed you…"

He shifted again.

"Perhaps I don't think I can be a Judge because I don't know if I'm ready to be like that…" then her black eyes were on him again, "So cold and so alone…"

He wasn't sure what she wanted from him, but Dredd figured that with everything the kid had been through he could give her a few passes… so he checked the room was secure and moved closer to her bed.

"It wasn't always like this, Anderson," he admitted, "I was a recruit, just like you. I had friends and a life… at least, I think I did…"

"But you are so…" she scrunched her young face, scrambling for words, "…you. And those other guys in Peach Trees… they sold us out. For money…"

"They were traitors…"

"Yes," she shrugged… "So are my options to become like you or to end up like them? That's not why I wanted to be a judge."

Dredd surprised himself, finding his gloved hand cupping her cheek, he brushed the rising rose on her skin and sighed, "You aren't like them… you aren't like me, kid. You want to help. Your decisions are made from that. Don't let anything make you forget the reasons you had for putting on that uniform…"

Anderson looked straight into his eyes and it felt, for a moment, as though he wasn't wearing his helmet… as if she was looking right through it and right into him… and more than that; she wasn't turning away.

She wasn't scared and she wasn't disgusted with the scars she found in his persona.

As much as he tried to beat away the feeling; he wasn't certain… but he felt warm…

Dredd hadn't noticed he had bent to place a kiss on the girls head until it was delivered and she jerked back into reality with a sharp intake of breath.

Her side pulled and she pressed into the pain.

Dredd cursed himself. He hadn't meant to frighten her; he hadn't meant to get that close…

"I'm alright," she insisted. "It's alright, sir…"

But the evidence was to the contrary, as the field dressing began to darken beneath her hands.

"Damn," he breathed, hands joining hers to press against the flow of blood. "Where are the damned medics?"

"I told them to see to the civilians," she admitted, hissing as he removed their joined pressure to peel back the dressing.

Dredd goggled, "You did what?"

"They are the priority," Anderson said, ferocity sudden and clear in her voice.

"You're a Judge…" Dredd explained; almost admonishingly, "You are the priority."

"No…" she insisted, "they are my priority; protect and serve... And I'm not that bad. You can patch me up again, sir. Just like you did before…"

Huffing and muttering beneath his breath, Dredd capitulated, ordering, "Take that damned jacket off then. We aren't out in the streets now."

The leather hit the medical bay floor as Anderson reclined on the gurney and raised her hand above her head to grant Dredd access to the wound.

It wasn't as bad as he had feared. He pulled out a cleaning towel and cleared away the damaged sealant he had used in the elevator a few hours before.

A feeling of sorrow washed over him as he cleaned the blood and cleansed the torn flesh; this was her first scar. She didn't appreciate it yet… but in the end, she wouldn't be able to remember the details of how this incident had marked her. And she wouldn't be able to distinguish one scar from another.

"This shouldn't have happened, you know." Dredd admitted, searching his first aid supplies for more gauze, relived to see the flow of blood stem as he injected a painkiller and numbing agent.

"Part of the job," Anderson shrugged, her face contorting as his movements spiked pain through her.

"Hold still," he ordered and then softened, "I didn't mean you getting shot… you should expect that. It's part of the job. You should see the scars over my body from the bullets I've taken over the years…"

"Ok," Anderson breathed.

Dredd stilled, "What was that, Rookie?"

"Sorry sir," she cleared her throat, "inappropriate humour."

Dredd felt his grimace turn down further on his face; inwardly smiling at the girls gall.

"As I was saying… you shouldn't have had a case like Peach Trees and the MaMa clan on your assessment."

"I chose the assignment, sir."

Dredd shook his head, "Bad luck."

"On the contrary, Sir," she countered, "I was lucky. I had you."

He heard what she said, but figured the kid was still in shock… so ignored the comment.

"You were looking out for me," she continued.

A derisive snort sounded as he looked up to her, "If I was looking out for you, Anderson, you wouldn't have been taken hostage…"

"If you hadn't been looking out for me," she said, shifting on the rickety bed to bring their faced closer, "I know I would be dead now."

An unfamiliar feeling washed over Dredds skin; he couldn't quite describe it. So he ignored it as he removed his gloves and pressed his hands on Andersons ribs.

She inhaled again, sharply; wincing from the coldness of his skin or the intimate contact, he couldn't be sure… but he reached for the wound sealant and sprayed into the hole in his colleagues side, smoothing the foam until the patch was complete and dry.

When he had finished his work, he looked up to find the young psychic looking at him once more, the dark pools of her eyes seeming to take his whole attention.

She was worrying her lip in an appealing way; Dredd controlled himself and moved back slightly, giving himself and the young woman before him some space.

Anderson's eyes shot to his hands that still rested on her rib; "I don't think you realise… that skin-to-skin contact increases the psychic connection, sir."

Dredd felt his grimace deepen. As much as he didn't want to stop their connection, he knew the kid could probably do without the minutia of hate and death that constantly swirled in his brain like a tempest…

He withdrew.

"That's all you think you have to offer, isn't it?" The blonde said in a mournful whisper, "It isn't, you know."

Without meaning to… he stood and was across the other side of the room before thought had filtered through.

He was scared… it was an odd sensation for Dredd… but he acknowledged it. A form of distancing himself from the feeling was analysing it… he felt a pain rip through his torso, making it spike with warmth and…

"Oh my God…" Anderson gasped, "Sir… you're bleeding…"

Oh… it could have been his through shot wound that was hurting… they tended to do that.

"I'll be fine, Rookie," he said, angering slightly as his words slurred and he felt the young woman slip beneath his arm and guide him to the bed. "Lost more blood than this…"

"With all due respect, sir… shut up."

Deep inside, Dredd felt a smile; outwardly, he growled.

"I still haven't accepted the pass yet… so I am still, technically on assessment and this is my last order…" Anderson insisted, scrambling to grip the zipper on Dredd's jacket.

He stopped her, "That's stretching it pretty thin, Judge Anderson."

Their joined hands on his clothing warmed and Dredd, again, felt as though the psychic was looking through his eyes and into his soul… before remembering what she had said about touch amplifying her powers and dropping his hold.

She swallowed, dryly, and undid the fastening on his coat, slipping the leather over his broad shoulders and smoothing it down the muscles in his forearms.

The kid looked terrified, he thought. Her eyes raked over the scarred muscle and tissue of Dredds torso, before she reached out and tugged at the blood stained vest he wore, loosing it and rolling the sodden fabric up, making him reach and wince at the movement as the top caught on his helmet before unhooking and dropping to the floor.

"This might be easier…" she said, "if you took that helmet off."

He moved his head in a negative, "It stays on."

She sighed, finally turning attention to the wound. Her delicate hand covered the out-wound and she paled, "It went straight through you…"

"Armour piercing," he explained, trying to shake the drowsiness away, "flesh isn't too much of a problem for a round like that."

"We should get a medic…"

"They weren't good enough for you, Anderson," he said, goading her slightly and enjoying the look of irritation register on her young face. "I'm sure you can handle it."

Anderson looked at the task she had set herself and nodded, absently, reaching for the first aid kit he had used to tend her only moments ago… "I only know basic aid, sir."

"I'll talk you through it," Dredd said, gritting his teeth and pushing himself up on the gurney. "First of all, get a fist of that yellow foam…"

She looked at him, slightly horrified.

"And yes," he hissed, gripping a corner of the foam, "it goes all the way through… but you need to get it out to clean the wound."

"Won't that cause added trauma?"

He looked at her, "I can handle the pain," then shrugged, "may black-out due to the blood loss… but I'll be back with you in no time."

Andersons attention snapped back to him.

"Just a joke, kid."

She huffed, her fingers tickling his skin as they traced the outline of the foam sealant, "Don't call me kid."

And as he began to reply, Anderson gave a swift tug that pulled his insides out and made him curse, folding upward and bracing his hands on the girls shoulders.

She met him there, pressing her forehead against the cold, hard skin of his Judges helmet and whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry… it's ok… shhh…"

That's when he noticed he was shivering… Judge Joseph Dredd was shivering in the arms of a newly qualified kid… the thought both amused and angered him.

Her hands left the support of his arms and lay on his chest; he supposed it was her way of trying to calm his raging heartbeat… but it only lead to an increase of blood rushing through him.

"Sir…" Anderson asked, shakily.

"It's ok, Anderson," he trembled, "move fast and get it done.

And she did as ordered, pushing him back on the gurney, undoing his trousers and cleaning the blood. He felt the hiss of the painkillers in his side and listened to the whir of the sanitizer as she cleaned his wound… God, it was getting hot in that little room.

"You're doing great, kid…" he said, head swimming as the room about him swayed.

"Sir…" she asked, "I'm almost done cleaning the wound… don't you pass out on me."

"Might not be able to agree to that one, Rookie…"

Her hands worked quickly and he could feel the alien presence of the sealant inside him… silently wondering how the bullet had miraculously avoided all organs and arteries…

He had always been a lucky son of a bitch; he hoped that had rubbed off on the young woman who frowned over the care she was giving him at that moment.

"Sir…" she called again…

But the heat and fatigue were too much and, accompanying blood loss and pain got the better of him as the sound of Anderson calling his name dimmed and Joseph Dredd fell into an unwilling and welcome sleep.