First Alcatraz story. Eep.
She could still hear Tanner's triumphant shout. She could still feel rush of relief that had weakened her limbs and allowed her to breath for the first time in hours. She would never forget the sound of the bomb that ended his life.
Rebecca Madsen ran her fingers through her hair and sighed loudly. Soto left Alcatraz an hour ago, giving her an awkward smile of comfort. It meant more to her than she'd realised, that the awkward comic book doctor had tried to make her feel better; but better was a long way from here.
Tanner, she thought sadly, I am so sorry.
"You saved my life today,"
Rebecca whirled around, hand on her weapon, but she'd recognised the voice even as she turned. The stoic, stubborn, arrogant agent who led their covert operation looked at her with that same, unreadable look. She often likened it to a mirror; she could only ever see herself reflected.
"Hauser," she acknowledged bluntly, "Shouldn't you be at home?"
"Shouldn't you?" he countered. She shrugged, too at war with the world to even consider moving. If she did, she may fall apart.
"I think I'll stay here for a bit," she stared at him, daring him to ignore her not-so-subtle dismissal; and praying that he'd listen to her for once.
He did; turning on his heel and striding out of the door. She breathed a sigh of relief and returned to her musings. Hauser shot Petty today, in the leg, for no apparent reason. Or, she admitted, no reason that would stand up in court. Soto had clearly been out of his depth, eyes covered against what he was sure would be carnage, but she was watched it. As she saw Paxton Petty writhing on the floor, harsh grunts and moans of pain escaping, she had rejoiced in the agony he was in.
You deserved everything you got, she seethed, Tanner was a good man.
But the vicious thoughts circulating through her brain frightened her. Even as she cried out for Petty's blood she flinched at the murderous rage that consumed her. What separated her from the 63's if the line between them blurred.
I'm a cop, Rebecca told herself firmly, I don't enjoy people being shot. I certainly didn't want to strap Petty to one of his bombs and detonate it. Much.
Letting out a soft growl of frustration, Rebecca suddenly jumped to her feet and punched the nearest wall.
"Goddamnit", she snarled, "Get a grip Rebecca." The pain in her hand cleared her head, and she stood still, breathing heavily. Sometimes she worried, especially on days like this, when she forgets herself, and cuts her emotions off from even herself. Sometimes she worries that she is turning into him. Hauser. Someone so driven, so obsessed, with the 63's, that they lose themselves along the way. Sometimes she wondered if she's make it through this intact, let alone alive.
This is why I'm here, she reminded herself harshly, to make sure these '63 bastards don't hurt anyone else ever again.
Oh, it was so hard to remember than when the pain threatened to overwhelm her, and she wanted to run from this cold, deserted prison back to the police department, where criminals were just an average guy from the 21st century. Why were they coming back? Where did they go? Was it worth it, risking her mind and her life?
Questions for tomorrow, she told herself firmly, Home, shower and bed now.
Tomorrow would bring new horrors, but tonight it was time to mourn for the loss of a friend, and appreciate the life she still had.