Rude's POV
People have been milling in and out of the bar for a few hours now, creating a crowd that's fluctuating, but thick enough for us to blend in. I've been sitting at this barstool long enough my ass is starting to fall asleep, but it looks like my patient musings over the finger or two of whiskey left in my glass will pay off soon.
Elena is across the bar facing me, actually, facing the man she's working over. She's in a pale blue, an innocent color on a dress cut for the corrupt. There are contacts in her eyes, hiding their lovely honey color beneath a rich blue most men can't resist. She almost seems like an angel in this dingy underplate bar with its scummy counter top and gritty clientele.
It's exactly how she's supposed to look.
When the victim moves closer, traces a finger across a pale cheek, I drag down the last finger of my drink.
I signal the bartender, get myself another pour. He's an old friend, an old friend working off a helluva debt. When I give him another gesture, he nods, the shiner that convinced him to play along tonight looking bloated and ugly in dim light cast by weak bulbs over the bar. He unlocks a door near the back of the bar and I nod to Elena when I catch those blue eyes over a slumping shoulder. She smiles at her victim, traces her hands over his chest, tugs his tie and leads him to the newly unlocked door. I gulp my drink down like medicine, pushing thought out of the way so we can just get the damn job done.
Grabbing the briefcase at my feet, I follow them a few moments later. The bartender cleans the counter, relieved by our departure despite the unpaid tabs.
The alley is dark and reeks of bile and filth, likely because of the dumpster adjacent to the doorway. I step into the dark alley, lit only by a small orange bulb over the doorway, to see Elena pressed against a nearby wall by the man she's supposed to be cornering. His mouth is open and hungry against her pale shoulder, her hands are still pressed to his chest, and that tacky ass tie is wrapped around her hand. I freeze for just a second, hand clenching on the handle of the case. I shouldn't be swinging that case, clipping the bastard in the back of the knee and bringing him to the ground, but I do. It's instinct. He cries out, hands still on Elena as her grip on his tie creates a makeshift noose that she tugs him back up with, strangling him with his own weight.
Her fist catches him in the face twice before his head lolls on his neck almost bonelessly. She hits him again, just to be sure, and blood from his nose splatters wet and warm on that pale blue dress. He hits the debris covered ground with a weak groan and she wipes her hands on her dress, smearing blood across that sky blue, before going to work stripping anything we can use from him. "I had that handled."
"Sorry." I mean it. She did have it under control. Some part of me knew she was going to be just fine.
The other part of me really just wanted to beat the guy to death with a metal briefcase, so I compromised between the two.
There's a small laugh, tinkling like a bell, as she drags papers from his pocket. If it weren't so dark, I would be able to read her expression better, but I think she looks pleased. I'm not entirely sure why, but I don't question it as she presses a knee to our man's chest and pulls a small pistol from her garter belt, it's silver metal glinting in the dirty light. She taps his face with tiny fingers, getting his attention effectively when she presses the barrel of that small gun against his forehead. "Hey, Rodderick, I'm gonna need you to plead for your life now."
Rodderick groans and spits a bit of blood at her and my hand clenches on the case again, but I don't act this time. She's got this handled, I just have to trust her judgement. She's a damn good Turk and I need to stop trying to shield her.
There's that tinkling again, that little laugh that sends shivers down my spine. The gun clicks as she turns the safety off, a smile on her face that rivals one of Reno's most sadistic leers. "Come on, you were so willing to cooperate with me a few minutes ago. I might be nice enough to leave you alive if you explain these." She waves the papers in his face and words trickle from his mouth in a hushed stream as she presses the barrel to a dark brown eye that's already swelling at the edges.
I scan the alley as she continues questioning the babbling man, glad we aren't going to be disturbed while finishing up our honeypot operation. This entire mission is Elena's baby, I've just been brought along to make sure things don't get too messy. I'm not the only one who gets overprotective when it comes to her. Tseng is twice as guilty, but for different reasons.
Well, they're not too different from mine, but he doesn't know that.
I hear the crash of gunfire and wince. I'm not unused to explosive noises or gunshots, but damn, in a closed space like this alley it really echoes. I rub my ear and watch Elena get up, blood splashed across her like paint. She smiles apologetically at me, tucking the gun away safely and rubbing her own ears. "Sorry, Rudey."
I shake my head and open the case, pulling out the space clothes she packed. I'm just the muscle for the outfit, so I get to carry her shit. I don't mind; generally I end up doing that for Reno too. Not that I can't handle missions competently or on my own, it's just that I work better as the muscle. It's the niche I fit best, so it's where Tseng sticks me. I'm the handbag, the extra arms, the tool.
Tonight, I am her shield, and as I avert my eyes so she can quickly cast off this facade she's put on, I find that I don't mind that. I catch a few glimpses of pale skin as her bloodied dress comes off and is cast into the dumpster, her shoes following after it.
When I feel a tap on my shoulder, she's in jeans and a sweater. She places the papers and other things she's won from the dead man at our feet in the case, guiding my hands to shut it when she's done. I try not to think that her hands linger on mine, that's going to complicate things I already drowned in whiskey. As she smiles up at me, I try and remember what Reno said to me a day ago.
"Rude, she's with Tseng. Don't get your hopes up man."
But I pull a kerchief from my pocket and dab blood off her face gently, watching her eyes close as I wipe away the sins with a tenderness I used to show I'm done, I toss it in the dumpster like it burns my hand.
In some ways it does.
Elena pulls those wretched contacts from her eyes, shows me that beautiful whiskey brown again. She tosses them and we look to the body on the ground, blood still leaking in an expanding puddle. We sidestep and move on, leaving the alley and it's wretched smell behind. I go first like the shield I am, letting Elena fall into step beside me only once I'm sure we're not followed. "What now?"
There's that laugh again and she links her arm through mine, almost skipping with joy at my side. "Well, I know who he sold our info to now, and I say we go pay him a visit in true Turk style. What about you, Rudey?"
"You're the boss, Lena. This one's your baby." I smile, trying not to think about how casual this touch seems, how normal it feels to have her on my arm. If Reno's right, and she's really with Tseng and I'm just getting mixed signals, then it'd just be asking to get shot if I started to think of acting on these little advances, the touches and words that seem to always suggest a little more.
There's a light squeeze on my arm and she pushes into me, laughing louder, still caught in the strange thrill of murder done right. "Then I say we put this baby to bed. Head over to Kasabi Street and tuck him in tight."
"Ladies first." I push back, the briefcase held loosely in my hand, and we walk down the street. We look like a couple enjoying a night out to all those we pass, just like we're supposed to, just like I wish we were.
For the walk to Kasabi Street, I'll pretend that's what we are, even as she speaks lowly near my shoulder about the plan of attack in all its bloody glory.
Author's Note: I ship the shit out of these two. In case you were wondering.