In the dream, Beth was cold. Her hands were frozen and shaking as she held the gun, fingers trembling at the trigger as if the metal were causing a frost to creep down her fingers to the tips. Her knuckles were locked up and yet she felt that at any sharp sound her index finger would jerk backward and the gun would fire.
There was no dream though. Instead she was standing in her dining room looking at two bloodied men staring at her. One with defeat and the other with a challenge, asking her to both squeeze the trigger and set down the gun at the same time.
Dean's gaze was almost glazed, the bruises stark on his pale face. She wasn't a fool, she knew the injuries from the accident wouldn't have been pretty. He's telling her to do it, to put a hole through Rio's head and fuck who gives a shit what happens next, but she's had a few moments to think about it and all she's seeing now through the tears is a man who just got hauled in by the Feds and put up a bit of a fight.
She knows it's all smoke and mirrors. It's what he's best at. Make it all look like a bunch of inner city gangbangers when really they're just regular white collar criminals.
Drop a bloodied gunshot victim who's in too deep with the drug scene to keep his mouth shut on your doorstep. Keep you quiet. Keep you scared.
She looks at his arms and notices the lack of tattoos. His shirt collar is more open than she's used to and there is nothing below the eagle tattoo on his neck.
She sees a man who betrayed her and made a fool of her. She sees a man who believed in her and took a risk on her. She sees one man who wants to exploit her, and another who almost refuses to.
In the dream she had seen two men who left her with nothing, but only one had promised everything.
"I smell bullshit."
She can feel the weight of the gun in her hand. it's heavy. She can't tell if it's loaded, but she suspects it isn't.
Rio Licks his lips.
They stare at each other for long moments and nobody speaks until she sets the gun down and slides it back across the table.
"Why don't you do it yourself?"
Rio looks off-guard for a moment, a brief flash of insecurity across his face betrays his confidence, but he recovers quickly.
"What, you want me to pop one in myself? Nah, that ain't how it works sweetheart. You want to take me you do it yourself you don't get your Fed buddies to do it for you." He nudges the gun back across the table.
It doesn't go far, and it sits in between them. She can see Dean's pleading eyes as Rio grabs at his hair and pulls his head back hard towards the drapes.
And then it happens too fast. Dean lunges for the gun, and Beth grabs for it reflexively, tears still blurring her vision
She's squeezed at the trigger before she has time to think about it, barrel pointed towards him.
There's a click.
The defeated stare becomes one of surprise.
The challenge remains the same.
"What the fuck."