by Brit Columbia
Timing: Set in August in the first year of the FFYT series. That means it happened before Slave to A Gladiator.
Summary: Berkeley pisses Diana off and she decides to teach him a lesson.
Spoilers: Volume 7 of Sanami Matoh's Fake series
Disclaimer: All of these characters belong to Sanami Matoh. I make no money for writing fanfiction about them.
Author's notes: This is a fic for lunasariel.
Berkeley's Cadillac hurtled toward the stop sign waiting at the end of the block, but Diana did not appear to be planning to stop for it. Berkeley could feel the excellent dinner he had eaten earlier trying to climb back up his throat.
"Diana, pull over! Diana!"
Diana's only response was to punch the radio and crank it up. It was still set on WKTU from when she had fiddled with it on the way to the restaurant. Dance music filled the car, and Berkeley's protests were effectively drowned out.
Berkeley immediately reached out a hand to turn it off, but before his finger was able to connect with the button, Diana gave the steering wheel a vicious crank, and suddenly the car was spinning madly all over the street, the brakes screaming as Diana laid rubber in tight circles on the blacktop. A silver blur shooting across his field of vision told him they had narrowly missed hitting an oncoming vehicle, although at the speed they were moving, he couldn't identify its type or even its size.
His heart in his mouth, Berkeley braced one hand against the dash and thanked his lucky stars that he had managed to click his seat belt into place seconds before they had spun out. They lurched to a stop a scant foot from a telephone pole. Jesus Lord, that could have been ugly.
"Whoops, wrong way!" squealed Diana, and then laughed before throwing it into reverse. The woman was crazy!
"Diana! Stop the car right now!" Berkeley shouted, every muscle in his body taut with fear. They were roaring back the way they had come, going at top speed, but in reverse.
"Aw come on, Berkie, where's your sense of fun?" Diana didn't even glance his way, as her eyes were glued to the rear view mirror.
Berkeley looked over his shoulder and saw that despite the fact that Diana was doing at least sixty, she was somehow keeping the car straddling the center line. Headlights veered away from them and horns honked madly. Berkeley saw the alarmed and horrified expressions on the faces of more than one driver as the car shot past them. What the hell was she doing? Was she suicidal all of a sudden? Did she not care about her career, or his? What about the publicity?
"STOP!" he roared at the top of his lungs, and to his great surprise, the madwoman beside him slammed on the brakes. The momentum jerked Berkeley's body against his seat belt with such force that he was sure he had just sustained a bruise to his sternum. However, a bruise to his sternum was still vastly preferable to the broken bones and internal injuries that he would undoubtedly be left with should this situation go on any longer. A screeching sound caused him to glance over his shoulder, and what he saw caused his blood to freeze in his veins. A delivery truck was skidding toward them, and although the driver was clearly standing on the brakes, it was apparent that he wouldn't be able to stop in time. Berkeley braced himself for impact.
"Cowabunga!" yelled Diana and the car leapt forward just in time. Almost as suddenly, she slammed on the brakes again and laughed as the delivery truck shuddered to a stop behind them. Berkeley's stunned brain dimly registered that it was an ice truck.
Berkeley stared at Diana in horror, temporarily bereft of speech. She glanced back at him just once, the happy grin on her face very much at odds with the rage in her eyes, and with a sinking feeling, Berkeley understood exactly why she was doing this. He had been a fool to think she wouldn't notice. She was nothing like the other women and men that he regularly dated, and it had been unwise of him to think he could put one over on her back at the restaurant.
The truck driver behind them booted open his door and jumped down from the cab, cursing roundly. As he strode toward them with a crowbar in his hands, Diana revved the Caddy's engine a couple of times, and then drove away from him, although she seemed not to be able to resist sticking her left hand out of the window and giving the guy the finger.
Berkeley let out a sigh of relief, and not merely for the fact that she seemed to have returned to her senses and now seemed inclined to drive the speed limit. He had also been afraid that she would relish the opportunity to use her Judo skills on the truck driver, since she couldn't very well take out her frustrations on the Commissioner of the NYPD. At least not with Judo, although her insane driving had almost given him a heart attack this evening. Right now he just wanted her to leave this area before the police showed up.
He counted to ten before he spoke. "Dee-Dee," he said, in what he hoped was a smooth and relaxed tone, "You've had your fun AND taught me a lesson. Are you satisfied?"
"Satisfied?" she repeated. "Oh you mean like you were when you came out of the men's room, sweetie?" The car began to accelerate.
"Now, my dear, I do regret that, and I hope you understand..." Berkeley's voice trailed away as the fear began to rise in him again.
"Berkie, I understand perfectly how you see the situation. You're a lovable rascal who can't keep his dick in his pants and just can't say no to a come-hither glance. Right?" She turned her face toward him again, her expression one of unholy glee. Without looking at the road she accelerated dramatically.
Berkeley couldn't help but be aware that they were drifting out of their lane. Sweat sprang out on his forehead. "Diana, I'm begging you..."
She laughed out loud and to his intense relief, returned her eyes to the road. Then he was clutching the brace-handle on his door as, without any warning whatsoever, Diana executed a sweeping U-turn, nearly taking out a blue Hyundai. For the second time that evening, Berkeley felt the wheels on his side of the car leave the road. He fought the urge to snatch the keys out of the ignition. At this speed, it would be high folly. Diana probably wouldn't be able to retain control of the car, and they would crash and die for a certainty.
They thundered back the way they had come, and when Diana crossed the yellow line and drove straight at the ice truck that had almost hit them before, Berkeley shut his eyes tightly and focused all his attention on remaining the master of his own bowels.
-end of Chapter 2-
Additional Author's Notes: Just so we're clear, I do not endorse crazy driving as a way to teach errant loved ones a lesson, no matter how upset a person might be. Diana Spacey has a number of professional skills, and driving is one of them. Anyone who has not been professionally trained by the FBI should never attempt to drive like this!