No Question

Athena13

2010

A/N: Taking the muse out for another spin

Legal stuff: don't own 'em, would treat them better, fair use.

* * *

Do I love her?

He used to ask himself that a lot.

After the one to whom he pledged his troth was murdered by the evil that he had taunted he decided it was better if he didn't love; so he didn't hurt. Her. Himself. Anyone. He was the lone wolf. Up for any mission, the deeper the cover, the more dangerous the better. He had no one who would care if he was lost and the others did. No one would mourn for him. And penance had to be paid.

For taunting the beast.

For failing to serve justice to his father.

The smirky con man covers became him. A quip, a wry twist of the lip and a sparkle in the blue eyes. All the questions faded away. He had his charm and his looks and he knew how to use it. To draw them near. To drive them away. No one got close. He was the life – or death – of any party.

The Vegas case was right up his alley. The Atlantic City street kid could come out to play and it had just the right amount of danger to get his blood rushing. Danger was the only thing that made him sure he was alive. When he got handed the file and told to make her his cover he didn't ask why. She wouldn't get hurt because she wouldn't get close. He was cocky then. About his professional skills and about his personal armor.

When he saw her photo for the first time his blood hummed. She was lust and danger all rolled into one. The perfect cover. The perfect partner. An AC street kid who fell into the pot at the end of the rainbow. She might jump near the flames, but she wouldn't want to sully her new found richness with a no prospect guy like him. His blood was still humming with the anticipation of what the few short weeks would bring with a gal like her by his side.

His opinion didn't change when he smiled that smile at her in person for the first time, laid down the line and prepared for the shot. Her friendly greeting and dubious reaction proved out his assumptions. The money had banked the fire, as did the pretty fiancé, but he knew that he could tempt it out to serve his purpose.

Then it all went to hell and he destroyed her like he had destroyed the innocent woman who had dared to trust him. He had miscalculated, badly. The fire was too much to handle and what he had drawn out he couldn't tame. It skewed everything; it had skewed him. Another innocent had died.

He should have left then. Gone back to another job and then another until he finally put the world out of his misery.

But he couldn't leave. He had been the one hooked by the con.

She was more dangerous than any mission and he kept jumping into the fire only to pull back again.

He found different shields. Lukewarm bodies he could drown in and forget for a little while.

Do I love her? He'd ask, hoping the answer would be yes. Finally yes.

He tried strings.

He tried to use a negative to cancel out a positive.

He resurrected old ghosts to chase.

Created obstacles.

Hell, he even tried to be dead.

Then he tried to be mature.

He failed miserably.

One after the other. Do I love her? He'd ask. Wondering. Forgetting. Careening through one crisis to another. Finding safety in the undemanding arms of a soothing voice. A half-hearted fellow survivor; who had another who would always come before he would. He didn't have to worry about being the center, about letting her down. Who he was became just enough. He relaxed. Some of the guy he used to be started to come back.

He spun around and around and around. And when he opened his eyes she was there again. Still. He couldn't stay away. Not any longer.

Do I love her?

One, but not the other.

Her in his arms, storm raging, people dying, he realized that the question was his answer.

Fin