Fic: Occupied (Diplomatic Immunity, Ensemble)

[amathela]

Title: Occupied
Fandom: Diplomatic Immunity
Character(s): Ensemble
Word Count: 3209
Rating: PG-13

Summary: Leilani starts an Occupy Fe'ausi movement. Chaos ensues. (Obviously.)

Notes: Written for tevildo for yuletide.


Leighton's in the middle of a call to Wellington when his day starts to go pear shaped. Which, considering it's nearly lunchtime, is actually something of an achievement.

First, there's Kirsty.

"The ambassador would like you to know that he is officially not in."

Leighton apologises to his contact on the other end of the line and covers the mouthpiece. "I thought he officially was in. On account of the -"

"Official celebration that he's officially required to take part in?" she suggests.

"That's the one."

"It's been taken care of," she says. And then, considering, "Well, he had a big morning tea, anyway. But he is officially not in any more."

"Do I want to know why?" There's noise outside, then - shouting, slamming doors, what sounds suspiciously like a buzzsaw - and he decides, "Probably not."

Before Kirsty can say anything else, Malepe comes tearing down the hall, stopping suddenly to grab onto Kirsty's arm like it's a shield.

"She's nuts," he says, huddling behind Kirsty. "Absolutely bonkers. I think she's really lost it this time."

"Who?" Leighton asks. The fact that it could only be one of two possible women doesn't actually help narrow things down.

"Leilani," Malepe says. "All I did was tell her about the awesome blu-ray players we got for the official celebration, and she totally flipped out on me. Almost broke my nose and everything."

"That would have been a shame," Kirsty deadpans, and Malepe nods solemnly, touching his nose as if to make sure it's still in one piece.

"Tell me about it," he says. "How am I supposed to pull the ladies without all this?"

Kirsty murmurs, "How are you supposed to pull the ladies with all that?"

There are about a dozen different things Leighton could be focusing on at the moment (not the least of which is his phone call), but the one he settles on is, "Is anyone actually going to tell me what this official celebration is?"

Malepe suddenly looks uncharacteristically serious, and Kirsty says, "Can't. It's one of those, you know, officially secret official celebration things."

"But not so secret that I can't know it's happening."

"Right," Malepe says. "But way too secret to let you know what it actually is."

"I see," Leighton says. And then, at a muffled sound from his handset, "If you'll both excuse me."

"But what about Leilani?" Malepe asks.

"I suggest, for the time being, you simply stay away from her." Leighton isn't entirely convinced it wasn't actually Malepe's fault, but either way, it seems like good advice.

"Right," Malepe says. "Stay away."

"Maybe from the entire office," Leighton prods, when Malepe still hasn't moved.

"Good idea," Malepe says, almost conspiratorially. "Got to protect the money maker."

Leighton decides to let that one drop, not least because Malepe is finally leaving. (Just in time, it should be noted, for Leighton to say, "Are you still there?" into the dial tone.)

-

For lack of anything better to do (his contact is now busy, apparently, which is government code for you pissed me off so now I'm not taking your calls - story of his life, really), he goes to see Leilani.

(It's not that he naturally gravitates towards her; he's simply curious, is all. It's entirely probably that Malepe is exaggerating, but - then again, this is Leilani they're talking about, so maybe not.)

What he walks in on is - well, he's not entirely sure what he walks in on, except that there's furniture strewn everywhere, cardboard and fliers and empty petitions scattered around the room like she's decided to turn her office into a recycling plant. Leilani's in the centre of it all, her hair wild, goggles resting on her forehead; far be it for Leighton to ever admit that Malepe was right about something, but the look in her eyes is dangerously close to manic.

"Leilani," Leighton says, and then louder, straining to be heard. When he calls her name a third time, his voice rings outs across the sudden silence.

"Okay," he says, moving forward slowly, hands held up in front of him. "Why don't we start by putting down the buzzsaw."

"What?" Leilani almost shouts. And then, looking up at Leighton and then back down at the buzzsaw she's wielding, "Right. Sorry about that."

Her voice is still far too loud; perhaps next time, he'll suggest she add earmuffs. Or he would, if he had any intention of enabling ... whatever this is.

"Thank you," he says, suddenly flooded with relief as visions of Leilani accidentally lopping his arm off begin to fade. He's fairly certain Jonah's already got a place to stash his body in the case of such an eventuality; the thought isn't comforting. "What exactly is going on here?"

"Oh," Leilani says. Her voice has dropped a couple of decibels; it's merely loud, now. "It's for my protest."

"Your -" Leighton starts, and then catches himself. Prioritisation is key, here. "Right. And the buzzsaw?"

"It's from out the back."

"Yes," he says. "What I meant was, perhaps, why is it in here?"

"Oh," she says again. "Well, it all started with the petitions, see, but I realised - the reason they're not getting any signatures is probably because I haven't got enough exposure. So I thought, I need to take this to the next level."

"Via protesting," Leighton guesses.

"Exactly," she says, smiling at him like he's just declared he's on her side. Which wasn't exactly what he meant, but somehow, he doesn't really feel like correcting her. "So I made some signs, because every protest needs to have signs. I mean, how else are people going to know what we're protesting?"

"That makes sense," he says carefully. He doesn't add, so far.

"So I made the signs, but I realised I didn't have any wood to hold them up with. And I just couldn't bear to wreck any of my other signs to use their wood. I mean, they're all still really important." That explains the giant pile of signs behind her, then. Leighton's pretty sure one of them is protesting Fe'ausian policy regarding the impending Y2K disaster.

"So you decided to cut up your furniture?"

"Well," she says, looking almost embarrassed. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

They all do, he thinks.

"And now?"

"Maybe not so much," she admits. "I really liked that chair, too."

"We'll get you a new one," he promises. Which he's pretty sure is within his power to do, since it's likely the New Zealand government will be the ones paying for it. "For now, why don't you maybe put the buzzsaw back where it came from?"

"But the signs -"

"Will be fine without wood," he assures her. "We'll just have to hold them up by hand."

"We?" Leilani asks, and he thinks, damn it. He actually hadn't meant it to come out that way. "So you'll join my Occupy Fe'ausi movement?"

"Wait," he says. "What?"

Leilani's already gone, thankfully taking the buzzsaw with her, and Leighton follows her out the back, hurrying a little to catch up.

"I can't tell you how much it'll mean to have the support of the New Zealand government," she says over her shoulder. "Unofficially, of course. I wouldn't want to get you into trouble."

It's a little too late for that, he thinks. "Can we back up a little bit?" he asks. "There's an Occupy Fe'ausi movement?"

"Well," she says. "Not yet. But there will be."

"Ah," he says. "I see."

"Democratic movements are springing up all over the world," she says. That manic look is back in her eyes, and Leighton has to stop himself from taking a step backwards. "People are calling out for social justice."

"In Fe'ausi?"

"They will be," she says. "It's just taking a little longer to reach us, is all."

"Of course," he agrees diplomatically.

"This is going to change all of their minds."

"I'm sure it will."

"You're not really going to join me, are you?"

"I have a feeling the higher-ups in Wellington would have something to say about that."

"Of course," she says, and smiles. "But you're still on my side, aren't you?"

"I'm always rooting for you," he says eventually. Against his better judgement, most of the time, but there it is. "Just - try not to get into too much trouble, okay?"

-

Leighton knew it was too much to ask. Which means he isn't surprised when he hears Jonah bellowing from down the hallway.

"I think he wants to see you," Kirsty says, appearing suddenly in his doorway.

"I thought he officially wasn't in."

"Well, officially, no. But unofficially, I'd get in there before he comes out here."

As tempting as it is, for a moment, to stand his ground and simply wait, he figures she's probably right. It can be difficult enough to deal with Jonah on a good day; aggravating him further might not be the best idea.

"Officially," he says, "whatever's going on very likely has nothing to do with me."

"And unofficially?"

He sighs, and stands up.

-

Suga and Mick are already in Jonah's office when he gets there, standing on either side of the desk, which makes Leighton feel distinctly outnumbered. It's never a very pleasant feeling; more to the point, it rarely leads to anything good.

"Mr Mills," Jonah says. "Would you care to tell me what is happening outside my consulate?"

So maybe it does have something to do with him, after all.

"If this is about Leilani -"

"This," Jonah interrupts him, "is about the sanctity of one of our most important celebrations."

"Ah," he says. "And is anybody going to tell me exactly what this celebration is?"

"Can't," Mick says. "State secret."

Something shady, then.

"Top secret," Suga adds.

"The fact that you would even ask is insulting to me on a deeply personal level," Jonah says.

Scratch that. Something very shady. And Leighton's definitely been here too long, because now he's almost glad he doesn't know.

"Fine," he says. "Leaving that aside - for the time being - how exactly is your important secret celebration being disrupted?"

"Just look!" Jonah says, gesturing to the window behind him. And now that Leighton is looking, it's fairly obvious.

Downright unmissable, in fact.

"Oh," he says.

"Yes," Jonah says. "Oh. Now how is it that I somehow get the feeling, the intuition if you will, that all of this has something to do with you?"

"I assure you, I in no way -"

"And even if it doesn't," Jonah continues, "technically, all of this is happening on New Zealand soil, which makes it all your problem anyway."

At Jonah's succinct, and unfortunately accurate, summary, Leighton raises a hand to his face. This is not, in fact, turning out to be a very good day.

"Exactly," Jonah says, as if he'd spoken aloud. "Therefore, I will kindly allow you to deal with this problem. And because I'm in such a generous mood, I will overlook the disruption to our most sacred -"

"And secret," Suga says.

"- celebration," Jonah finishes.

"How charitable," Leighton says. Sarcasm, he notes, has always been the last refuge of the frustrated government employee.

"I'm glad you agree," Jonah says. "Now, off you go."

It isn't as if he's obeying Jonah. He just happens to be thinking the same thing.

(He doesn't look back as he leaves, however, just in case Jonah is gloating anyway.)

-

Despite the commotion in the consulate backyard, the only real disruption, as promised, is occurring just outside the consulate gates.

"What," he asks loudly, "is going on here?"

Amidst the mass of tent-like structures, Leilani pokes her head out to look at him. "Leighton," she says. "You came."

"I'm not here to - Kirsty!" he says. "Can you stop that, please?"

Kirsty looks up, but doesn't stop. "It's okay," she says. "I'm nearly done."

"It is not okay," he says. "I thought this was an Occupy Fe'ausi movement."

"It is," Leilani says. "Or at least it was. It's just that Mick pointed out -"

Mick. Of course.

"- that it wouldn't really be occupying Fe'ausi if we did it inside consulate grounds, since I'm already supposed to be there. So I thought this would be a far more powerful symbolic gesture."

"You thought, or he thought?"

"I agreed," she says. "Besides, we're far more visible here."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he says. "Leilani, you can't just camp out on the sidewalk."

"You're right," she says. For one futile second, he almost thinks she's seen reason, until she says, "I should get my chains."

"That's not - please don't do that. Kirsty, no."

Kirsty pauses. "I'm just trying to help."

"You know full well what you're doing," he says. Honestly, she's as bad as the rest of them. "So now help me undo it."

"You can't do that," Leilani says, finally crawling all the way out of her tent. "This is an important protest."

"It's a bunch of empty tents," he points out. Not, he thinks, unreasonably. "Which, since they're on New Zealand soil, I unfortunately cannot ignore."

"You're no better than them," she says. "You tell me I should fight for what I believe in, but only as long as it doesn't affect you and you can conveniently ignore it."

"I'm not trying to ignore anything," he says. "Right now, all I'm trying to do is keep my job and keep you out of jail."

"I've been arrested before," she says defiantly.

And I've lost my job before, he thinks. It doesn't mean he wants to repeat the process.

"Please," he says. "Won't you see reason?"

"Not until I see justice first," she says.

He recognises the stubborn set of her jaw, her stance, the way she's glaring at him. She won't back down, not on this one. Still, he isn't intending to give up trying to persuade her.

Until something rather more urgent catches his eye. (Or ear, whatever. The point is: There are two problems now.)

"Yo yo yo what's up, DJ Ladykiller is in the house," Malepe intones over a set of speakers. And then corrects, "Or backyard. Here to knock your socks off. And all of your other clothes, too."

Leighton closes his eyes for a moment, and prays this isn't happening. Of course, that's never worked for him in the past.

"Malepe," he says, coming around the backyard at the same time as Jonah hurries out of the consulate. And then, to nobody in particular, "What's going on now?"

"I'm joining the protest," Malepe says. Thankfully not into the microphone this time. "All this social action stuff really pulls the ladies."

"You're going to need a bigger microphone," Jonah says.

"Please tell me you aren't going to chain yourself to the fence again," Leighton says. He can only handle one thing at a time; right now, he isn't really even handling that.

"No way," Malepe says, and Leighton could swear he shudders slightly. "That's old news. I'm going to solve this problem the DJ Ladykiller way. With song."

Oh. Great.

"Malepe, Jonah says. "I order you to stop right this instant."

"So I take it this isn't part of your officially secret sacred official celebration, then?" Leighton asks innocently.

Jonah looks aghast. "Does it look like this is a part of our most sacred officially secret official celebration?" he asks. "Do you honestly think I would hire Malepe to do this ... thing at our most sacred of sacred events?"

"I thought it was only one of the most sacred."

"They are all the most sacred," Jonah says. "And this is an outrage."

He has to yell the last part. Malepe has turned back to the microphone, proceeding with what Leighton can only describe, without hyperbole, as the worst rap he has ever heard.

"I'm DJ Ladykiller, here to fill-a ... your ears, listen up to our protest, there isn't going to be a test, yeah all those rich people have money they ain't sharing, it just ain't ... fair ... ing, they think they can just put everything on sale, eat so much they grow as big as a -"

Leighton's eyes go wide as Jonah starts gesturing frantically for Malepe to stop; on the other side of the yard, Suga does the same, looking panicked.

At the very last second, Malepe seems to get it.

"Really big fish," he says instead, and Leighton breathes a sigh of relief. And then smiles, turning to Jonah.

"Since this actually is on Fe'ausian soil," he says, "I think I'll kindly allow you to deal with this problem."

Jonah grimaces, but says nothing. It may be a small victory - petty, really - but it's enough to keep Leighton smiling as he steps back into the consulate. (Avoiding the front yard. Which is, presumably, still a problem he needs to deal with; right now, he just doesn't think he can take it.)

-

The noise last about another five minutes, until Kirsty pulls the plug connecting the speaker system and everything goes silent. For a moment, anyway, until the yelling starts up amidst the noise of what sounds like a DJ station being battered. All things considered, Leighton feels it's probably safer to remain inside.

It's almost dark when he finally leaves, avoiding goodbyes (though he does quickly duck around to check out the backyard, which is almost suspiciously empty.

The front of the consulate is most decidedly not empty.)

"If you're here to yell at me," Leilani says as he pauses outside the single occupied tent, "you can save it."

"I'm not," he assures her. He's entirely done with yelling. For today, anyway.

"Good," she says. "Because I'm not moving. Even if I'm the only person who cares about this."

"I'm sure you're not the only person," he says, even though he's not.

"It's true," she says. "I had Kirsty bring me some reports from Fe'ausi. Nobody's rising up."

"I see," he says, settling down on the ground beside her. At this point, he doesn't think it can possibly hurt. "Did you really expect them to?"

"When they could be watching their blu-ray players instead?" she asks. Instead of coming out scathing, it mostly sounds resigned. "Why should they care about the ninety-nine percent? In Fe'ausi, everybody is the one percent."

"I can see how they might present some problems," he says.

Leilani doesn't say anything for a minute; instead, she scoots over to make room for him inside her tent, and he moves closer. Finally she says, "There was some progress."

"Oh?" he asks.

"Yeah." Her expression is a little brighter, now. "There was an occupation at the king's palace."

Leighton remains silent.

"Well," she amends. "One person occupied the king's palace."

She pauses.

"I'm pretty sure he was drunk and just passed out there."

"Still," he says. "That's something."

She almost smiles, and leans into him a little. "Yeah," she says. "I guess so."

(Just for the record: He does not - absolutely does not - fall asleep in the tent outside the consulate. That would be completely unprofessional of him. Even if it's been a very long day, and dozing would be entirely understandable.

He also does not have to face Kirsty's knowing looks the next day, or answer questions about why he's wearing the same clothes as yesterday and why he smells like that. Because it simply does not happen.)