Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Months have passed since that shitstorm everyone just refers to as “Peach Trees”. Since then Anderson’s avoided any busts on that scale… whether from luck or intuition she’s not quite sure. Mostly luck, perhaps.

She’s gotten by somehow trailing along in Dredd’s wake. He’s hauled her ass out of the fire on more than one occasion, and there are days (long days when she’s seen the sun rise twice before she can crawl back to her quarters and finally sleep) where she swears that maybe she saved him at least once in that day. Maybe. He’d never admit it and she has no inclination to read his heavily guarded mind. It’s a promise she made long ago and it especially applies to her stone-faced partner… if you could call him that. That’s another thing he hasn’t admitted, but he hasn’t said no either.

Some days she really wonders about him.

Today Dredd’s not waiting for her in the parking garage. His Lawmaster is there parked next to hers,  and Anderson silently wonders if she’s earlier than she had anticipated. Her feet follow the same familiar path back to the elevator and up to his apartment, although she hesitates for a moment as her hand reaches to knock at the door. She can feel his presence inside, familiar even with the crush of other minds around her. Reassured, she finally knocks.

The door opens soon after and he’s standing there in his street gear staring down at her. There’s a flash of something metal in his hand but he places the object out of her sight, expression guarded.  Curious, she pushes a tendril of thought just against his mind just to find his attention focused on the badge at her chest. The thought’s gone in an instant as Dredd grunts and presses past her. She knows that signal as conversation’s over. Sometimes it’s almost like he knows when she’s trying to read him, knows that she’s not willing to pry more than at the surface. She tries her best to peer around the doorway as it closes behind him, barely catching sight of the object and certainly not enough to fully understand what it is. Puzzled, she trails along after him back down to where their bikes are parked, sliding over onto the seat while Dredd makes the preparations for the nightly patrol.

As he guns the engine on his Lawmaster she catches the flicker of attention in her direction again. He’s already coasting out of the garage as she follows along behind when suddenly all of the pieces fit together. Her fingers touch the surface of the badge at her chest and a memory flickers in her mind of the day she thought she had failed her assessment and had handed her badge away to…

She had gotten a new one later of course, having assumed Dredd had discarded the piece of metal back at the Hall of Justice. Had he actually… kept it? It didn’t seem like the grizzled senior judge, but he also didn’t read like an open book either. She curses her vow to leave his mind alone; it’d make this a hell of a lot easier.

“Anderson,” his voice crackles in her helmet comm as he veers off an exit. She’s hot on his trail, and although his driving is superior she knows that he holds back just enough for her to keep up with him. It’s their unspoken secret, or at least one of them. “Don’t think too hard on it.”

She scowls at his tone, but he’s already picked their first call and if she lingers on his words for too long he’ll leave her behind. For now she drops the thought. She’ll figure him out eventually.

She hopes.

Chapter Text

She had nearly forgotten the burning question from previous weeks; did he have her old badge? If he did, why had he held onto it? It seemed a trivial thing compared to roaming the streets with him dispensing justice and upholding the law on a daily basis. Some days went better than other, of course, and it would always be that way.

Today was not one of those better days.

Dredd’s aversion to the medical ward was legendary (some rumored it was only rivaled by his hatred of paperwork). She remembered this as she was hauling his sorry ass out of the elevator and down the hall to his apartment, ignoring the disgruntled glares that shot out from behind his visor.  “This is your fault, you know,” she ground out as he punched the code into the keypad. The door slid open and she dragged him inside. “If you would just go to the fucking med ward this could be avoided.” He grunted in response, and Anderson did her best to stop a half smile from curling at the corner of her mouth. Typical.

She left him to his own devices as she hunted down a better first aid kit in the bathroom. The sounds of the senior judge hissing in pain did not go by unnoticed. She quickened her search, and by the time she emerged he had already discarded his flak vest and jacket and was working on his shirt. His helmet was on the counter, and although she had seen his face before she took a half moment to look him over again. Day-old stubble, messy brown hair… he’d always been easy on the eyes. Not that she’d admit that to him any time soon.

The smell of burnt flesh had begun to permeate the apartment, and when the garment was discarded she finally got a good look at the injury. They had been flanked while on a routine patrol and one perp had broken past them with a stun baton in hand. Dredd had taken the hit for her.  Anderson yanked her gloves off and approached him now, and although she could practically taste his apprehension in the air he allowed her near. The weapon must have been altered if the electrical burn across the back of his ribs was any indication. She steeled her mind for the impending rush that always came with direct contact, and then reached to push the disgruntled Judge into a chair. He obeyed, though she sensed his reluctance.

“I’ll make it quick.” Her voice spoke in nearly a whisper, more for herself than for him. Her fingers smeared the burn gel against the wound, suppessing a shudder at the blast of thoughts that came on every time she touched his skin. Control. Always control. Control and what might be relief? She sensed his pain ebbing away bit by bit as the gel started to kick in.

Anderson rose to grab a towel, wiping the rest of the salve from her hand. On her way back she passed a pile of paperwork, and next to it… was something she had nearly forgotten. Her pause seemed to have caught Dredd’s attention, because he sat frozen in place, eyes betraying  what his vizor usually did so well to hide. Her hand closed around the battered badge, thumb tracing a gouge down the side of it. The name stamped across it was her own.

Did it mean anything to him, to have kept it? Surely he wasn’t the kind of person to have a pile of nostalgic items laying around in his apartment. Dredd was the Law. She slowly met his gaze and although the room was still half dark she simply felt his distress. Not wanting to force him into his defensive mood, she held her tongue… and replaced the badge where it lay before. When he was ready he would tell her why, and she’d be damned if she was going to try to pry it out of him before that. Someday he might. Eventually. She hoped.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” she said instead. If she had been reaching out to his mind she was willing to bet she would have felt his relief. He shifted and stood, offering a nod as she opened the door to leave.

“Anderson,” his voice carried to her in the hall, and she paused to listen. He hesitated a moment, as if struggling to find the right thing to say. “Don’t be late.”

She rolled her eyes; she didn’t have to use her abilities to know that he had decided against whatever else he had planned to say. The door closed behind her, and in the dim light of the hallway she began her walk back to her own apartment.

Some days she really wished he wasn’t so stubborn… but would he really be the same Dredd if he wasn’t?