AN: Decided to do short introspective pieces for a while because I can never seem to get anything else done.
Warnings: Spoilers, I guess. And, death. Oh, yes, there's death. Sorta AU-ish (or, at least, some circumstances are altered, really slightly; some of you might not even notice).
Disclaimer: Lalalalala.
The sceeching of tires pound in his eardrums; the scent of rust and metal and blood consumes him.
He grimaces when he hears the bullets.
(this car is his baby; how dare they damage her)
He makes a sudden decision and presses hard on the gas pedal. It takes him only a moment to reverse, pull out his own gun, and shoot. He doesn't know how long he spent trying to gun them down, but after the dust clears, he sees a few bodies litter the ground, dripping blood (not all of which are the ones that he meant to hit) and suddenly realizes that he has also been shot.
Matt ignores the red blooming on his shoulder and speeds off again.
(it's okay; it's just a flesh wound)
Even now, he has little to no doubt that he will get out of this situation alive.
(isn't he, after all, a genius? and geniuses never get killed in stupid gunfights, right?)
Besides, Mello had promised that it would be simple and easy. He had promised that even if Matt got caught, they wouldn't kill the redhead; they needed information, after all.
(and, Mello is never wrong about these things, is he?)
Sirens shriek. Gunshots ring.
And, he suddenly feels suffocated in his car, as if he is a mouse in a cage.
Trapped.
Matt's heart pounds; he is high on fear and adrenaline, and he almost convinces himself that Mello is definitely wrong this time, and that he is going to die a brutal, violent death, riddled with bullets, left out to rot on the cold cold cold ground.
(but, no, of course not; Mello is always right about things and Matt has always been wrong; this time won't be any different)
He forcibly pushes the concerns to the back of his mind, like he always did, and just gave himself completely over to trust and friendship (even when an inner voice whispers that those things don't count for crap in the real world).
(he will get out of this alive)
And, Matt discovers that he truly believes in that.
(he will not die)
So, when he is surrounded by them—those ugly men in black suits—he is calm, without a hint of tension. Instead of the sounds of sirens and gunshots, he hears his own thoughts, repeating Mello's words.
(he will not die; he will not be killed; they will not shoot him)
Quietly and without delay, he gets out out of the car, holds his hands up in surrender, and...
(they shoot him)
They don't even hesitate and gun him full with bullets like he's Swiss cheese.
And, a million things race through Matt's mind at that infinitely short and infinitely long moment before the shots make contact with his skin.
(crap, this'll totally mess up the car)
(goddammit, I already wasted money buying those tickets back to Winchester)
(I bet it's going to hurt, those bastards)
(well, jeez, this sucks)
The thoughts are meaningless, and Matt feels almost mildly surprised that most of them merely contained exasperation and annoyance. There is no anger or fear or hatred. It is a sort of strange acceptance, and the redhead feels a mixture of relief and incredulity at that idea.
And, in the end, three words are replayed in Matt's mind, over and over again.
(Mello is wrong)
Matt dies, exactly as he predicted, riddled with bullets and left to rot on the cold cold cold ground (but with an uncharacteristic sense of pride and satisfaction that almost makes up for that).