just a short quick, fic about the Salesman/ Hitman. thanks for reading!

disclaimer: i don't own anything sin city related, nor the quidam song "let me fall."

rating: M (just to be safe...)

let me fall:
I. the meeting
II. the information
III. the break up
IV. the end

the meeting

"let me open whichever door I might open."

"What are you running from?" She turned slowly at the sudden voice behind her. So soft, so almost caring.

"Who says I'm running?" She asked, regarding the man who stood back in the shadows.

"Then why aren't you inside enjoying the party?" Soft footsteps approached her and she turned around at the balcony's railing, leaning a free arm against it.

"Can I not step out for a breath of air?" She asked innocently, noticing more and more just how attractive this young man was. Pale skin, dark eyes, smooth black hair—all fitting nicely with the sharp black suit he wore.

"Cigarette?" In one swift motion he pulled a pack out of his pocket and held it out to her.

"Don't smoke." She said clipped, turning back to face over Downtown. He looked at her, almost in shock.

"A woman in Sin City who doesn't smoke?" He asked curiously, a playful edge to his voice.

"Basin City, last I heard." She answered almost coldly, walking from him, trailing her hand along the railing. She felt almost offended by his comment—everyone at her work smoked, and she knew them to frequent Old Town, and cigarettes just seemed to embody all the sin that ran rampant through Basin City.

"Yes, Basin City," he said almost dismissively, as though humoring her, "then you obviously must work at the petroleum plant. They are about the only ones who ever give the city's full name."

"You don't work there?" She asked curiously, spinning back around, the knee-length hem of her black dress spinning slightly out before catching in the breeze. "Then what are you doing here? This is a party for company—"

"I'm a guest." He answered, smoothly cutting her off, lazily trailing a hand along the railing as he walked towards her.

"Then where is your date?" She asked, a pang of jealousy catching her by surprise as it flashed through her heart.

"Oh no…no date. I am Hamilton's brother. He always invites me to these things, even though I've never gone before." He explained.

"I've known George Hamilton for years and I never knew he had a brother." A look of surprise and recognition crossed her face as she could see some of her boss in the young man before her. "Must be his younger brother."

"His much younger brother." She laughed lightly as he smiled, laughing silently. His smile was to die for and she found herself wanting to melt into it.

"Do I get a first name…to go with the last name?" She suddenly asked, noticing the silence.

"You don't even have a last name."

"But you said you're Hamilton's—"

"We have different fathers, so we have different last names."

"Oh, well then do I get a name at all?" She asked, titling her head curiously, letting the light from the ballroom fall alluringly on her cheeks, dancing in her blue eyes. She noticed his almost hesitation and tried to hide her surprise.

"I'll give mine then—"

"No—no names. I am simply Joe and you are simply Jane." She smiled in confusion, thinking this young man very strange…albeit a very handsome strange young man.

"Mysterious aren't we?" She asked playfully, narrowing her eyes to his.

"Tends to keep women interested longer." He answered playfully.

"Oh, that's pathetic," she said, a playfully exasperated tone to her voice as she crossed her arms about her chest, looking out over the city, "you don't need to play mystery games to hold women's interest—you could have any woman you wanted, and she would follow you anywhere." She stopped talking, feeling a small blush creep to her cheeks. She had not wanted to say that. Not wanted him to know she found him attractive, all because getting wrapped up in mysterious men in Sin City always lead to trouble.

"Would you?" He asked softly, the most irresistible tender note on his voice. She still looked out over the city as she debated if she could bring herself to face him again or not. Without fully realizing it, her head was turning back around, a smile across her face.

He smiled warmly, knowingly at her as she felt herself slowly melting, knowing that she had most likely played right into his hand…but somehow right now that didn't matter. He took a step closer to her, closing the space between them as his lips fell against hers. Softly, with such a controlled eagerness she returned his kiss.

The complaining voice in the back of her mind faded into nothingness as she felt his arms wrap tenderly around her slim waist. She thought she felt her arms winding around his torso, but she couldn't be sure—she couldn't be sure of anything except how much his kiss made her feel loved, and her want to love him. Slowly he withdrew, their deep, even breaths breaking the silence between them.

"What was that for?" She asked, running her tongue quickly over her flushed lips.

"How else should I reward such a compliment from someone as beautiful as you?" He simply asked, no note of seduction or praise on his voice. Simply stated as though it were a proven fact. She turned her head sideways and looked at him in amazed curiosity.

He was so different from every other man she'd ever met…and most certainly from all the men she'd met at these company parties. That's when she realized their arms were still around each other, and that his fingers were running in soft lines across the small of her back.

"Why is it I have never seen you at one of these parties before?"

"Tsk-tsk, Jane," he said, smiling playfully at her, "that borders on the same question as asking a name—lets not think of things before tonight or of things after tonight."

"Much easier said than done." She said, hating how practical that sounded.

"Especially at a company function," he agreed, pulling slightly away from her, her arms instinctively pulling back, as he kept one arm looped around her waist, holding her loosely to his side. "So what do you do at the plant—at least you know why I am here—so why are you here?" He casually asked as they started to walk back inside out of the late night breeze.

"I'm a fluid dynamist, mechanical engineer—not what you think I am." She finished, an almost clipped note to her voice.

"Who said I thought you were anything?" He asked innocently, turning his dark eyes to hers.

"Oh please. What man meets a woman Downtown and doesn't think her automatically a hooker or something?" She asked almost pointedly, as though it was his fault women were often times thought of so degradingly.

"Honestly, that thought never crossed my mind—you don't hold yourself like one. And besides, you wouldn't be alone if you were—you'd be trying to earn your daily bread." She looked away from him, a doubtful look in her eyes.

His soft lips fell gently against the skin of her cheek and she could not fight back a slight smile. "If I thought you as common as you claim, I would not be with you now." The sincerity in his voice cut through her heart and the warning voice in the back of her mind. She turned back to him, hating herself for melting into him so and loving his words. She found she could find no words befitting a response, and she smiled, letting her head involuntarily fall against his shoulder as they continued walking.

She wondered what Hamilton would say if he saw her on the arm and shoulder of his younger brother? Would that change anything? 'Hell, it might get me a raise…,' she thought quickly, before pulling her head back, deciding it would be best if Hamilton didn't see them together. Especially since she wasn't really sure what to make of 'Joe' just yet.

'Joe'…what was with the mysterious names?

"Jane," she started at his use of the name, but turned towards the soft voice she was coming to know so well, "would you care for a dance?"

"Of course." She followed him out the outskirts of the dance floor and felt his arms snake around her once again, pulling her close as she let her arms encircle him. Slowly, in rhythm to the almost lulling music, she let her body move with his, lead by his firm guidance. More and more the warmth from his hands was penetrating through her black dress to her skin, and she found herself wishing there was no dress at all.

Suddenly, she found herself dancing a whole lot closer against him—her chest pressed lightly against his, her hips brushing past his with every other move. All in all, Joe was quite the dancer she decided—but her mind was so clouded by him that she would have been hard pressed to think clearly about anything.

He took his hand smoothly away and spun her gently out before bringing her back in, pulling her in closer than she'd been before. Now she could feel his every breath across her cheek—and it was taking all her will power to keep her breathing steady. Everything about him had awakened every sense in her and she'd never wanted any man more.

And still a voice in the back of her mind was trying to holler above the haze that this was all wrong—that she should not have such feelings for a man she'd known all of thirty minutes—and a man who happened her to be her boss' brother at that! But at that moment—with Joe's arms around her, holding her close, all she knew was the feeling of being loved starting to grow in her heart

xxxxxx

The rest of that night passed by in a haze. A haze of feeling, skin, soft sheets, tenderness, need.

Even though she'd felt swept away in a whirlwind ever since that night, it was still by far the most memorable of them all. And she couldn't get it out of her mind.

'Her breaths came in rapid, ragged intervals as his fingers teased about her center before finding the spot to make her feelings explode. He kissed her cheek teasingly, feeling her hips move against his hand until she reached, her body stiffening in pleasure, breath hitching in her throat.

She turned her face to his, kissing his cheek before meeting his lips in a quick kiss as she continued to catch her breath. He held her willowy body closer against his, running his fingers lightly across her stomach, his eyes never leaving hers, heart racing.

She pressed her lips against his again, feeling him instantly take over, just as she wanted. He started to shift slightly, never breaking contact, as he moved his body on top of hers, her arms snaking around him, holding him ever so close.

She could feel every inch of him and was desperate to have him inside of her. He moved his hips against hers before settling at her center, gauging her reaction as he slowly entered.

The sharp pain cut through her for just a second, and he withdrew slightly, placing his forehead against hers, waiting for her to adjust. She kissed him tenderly, willing him to continue, and soon he settled inside of her, a small smile crossing her face.

He started moving gently and slowly at first, as she held him tighter, arching her back to more fully meet his hips. A faster rhythm built between them—ragged breaths mixing with ragged breaths, sweat thinly coating their bodies and mixing together. She tried to keep her eyes open and focused on him, but each deeper and deeper thrust sent her closer to the edge, and soft moans vaguely resembling his name passed her lips, ending in a small moan of a scream as he finally sent her over the edge, joining her in a shared explosion.'

That night seemed like yesterday, yet it had been four months. Blythe was still unable to believe they were together, yet she didn't want it any other way.

Aaron made her feel loved as she had never felt before. Maybe it was how every time he looked at her, he seemed to know just what she thought and felt, or maybe it was the always mellifluous sound of his voice mixed with his suggestive smile.

All Blythe could say was she didn't want to think about losing Aaron any time soon.

Aaron Sanders was his name, come to find out. That very next morning, real names had been exchanged and a relationship unlike any she'd ever known had started.

the information

"We want you for a job."

"Who's the target?"

"Enh, some woman in the wrong place at the wrong time. Pretty thing too apparently. Such a waste." The large man lit a cigarette before holding the package out to the tall, trim young man standing opposite him.

"Don't smoke."

"Some joke Aaron." Smoke filled the air.

"What's the woman's name?" He asked, changing the subject, his small smile falling away.

"Oh I got it here," the large man reached for a small sliver of paper on his desk before handing it over to Aaron, "needs to be taken care of fairly quickly. Sources believe she's something of a good egg, and she might botch an upcoming job if she says too much."

"Think no further of it."

"Don't sound too sure of yourself there." The large man cautioned. Aaron just regarded him curiously, face blank. "Well rumor has it you don't live entirely alone anymore. Just make sure you don't let her get in your way is all I'm saying." He paused, intently studying Aaron's face. "You don't look as surprised as I thought you would."

"No, I knew you would find out. Its taken you longer than I'd originally thought."

"Oh really?" The large man questioned interestingly, an almost dangerous tone to his voice. "No matter, we know her now. She ever gets in the way or we find out she knows more than she should or you get soft, that's it for her. End of story."

"As it should be." The round man stared back at Aaron.

"What? Don't love her enough to save her?"

"I don't love her."

"No?"

"No. She's just easy to get in bed." The round man laughed crudely, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

"Good to know you're still human." A small smile crossed Aaron's stoic face. "Even still, watch your step—I'm not the only one who knows you've got her." Aaron folded the sliver of paper and stuck it in his inside coat pocket.

"Less than a week, you'll receive confirmation."

"Good man." Aaron turned and left the round man's office without so much as a backwards glance.

Shit. Truth be told, he hadn't expected Blythe to found out about so soon. He'd done his best to be secretive about seeing her, but he should have known better.

And just as sure as he was standing there, they would kill her. There was no escaping it now. He wasted no time berating himself for getting involved with her—he loved their time together—nor did he waste any time feeling sorry for her. His thoughts focused on how to potentially save her life.

She didn't know anything about anything, and had no clue about his work. In the end, she just might be alright if she left Sin City tomorrow. Or today even…the sooner the better.

xxxxxx

Blythe didn't much care for working in Old Town. And yes, her boss Hamilton knew this, and yes, being the ass that he was, sent her to every job in Old Town.

Testing pipe sheer strain on an older set of pipelines was the mission today. The plant was considering outsourcing refinement to plants in other cities, and rather than use trucks to transport oil, the higher-up's were considering renovating abandoned water mains.

Blythe felt fairly certain that anything in this part of Old Town was too far gone to be of any value, but she just smiled and kept her mouth shut, doing her job.

"Blythe, can we expect you back here any time soon?"

"Depends on how the results from today's tests turn out Gail." Blythe couldn't say for sure how long she'd been on a comfortable first name basis with Gail. She was always present at every job Blythe had in Old Town, lurking in the background, just as security in case something happened somewhere sometime.

"You can never be too careful in Old Town." Gail had warned her in the first meeting.

But nothing had ever happened, and Blythe seriously doubted anything ever would.

Once the dicking around with the water company finally ended, and full flow restored, the testing proceeded rather quickly and uneventfully. Blythe stood above ground, communicating to the underground-men, giving them changing parameters and readouts.

"Oh shit, um…we've got some cavitation damage down here," Blythe rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation, "give us some time to stabilize and localize it."

"Great…," she muttered, dropping the radio to her side, turning around, "just great." That's when she saw him…Aaron, speaking to a woman on a side street. He seemed to be offering her a cigarette. Maybe she'd asked him?

"Gail," Blythe started uncertainly, "what's he doing down here?"

"Who?" Gail asked, looking around.

"Him—Aaron—my boss' brother." Gail's eyes fell on the man in question.

"Your boss' brother? Aaron?" Blythe nodded. "I'm afraid you got the wrong guy. That's Zach over there." Zach? But Blythe knew for sure that was Aaron.

"Oh, my mistake I guess…," she said shakily, "what's Zach do?"

"Oh he's really good," Gail started, nodding his direction, "we use him almost every time we need someone taken care of."

"Taken care of?"

"Oh come on Blythe. In this city, everyone knows what that means."

"Means you don't want to know."

"Exactly." They watched the man in question loop arms with the woman as they walked further into the alley way. "In fact I believe he's working now. He's one of the better ones."

"Is he now?"

the break up

"Blythe…?" Aaron asked, opening her apartment door curiously. "Blythe!" He called again, a small note of panic on his voice even though he knew better.

"Yes Aaron?" She answered, opening her bedroom door, wrapped in a bathrobe, drying her dripping wet curls.

"Oh…hi." He heard himself worriedly and relieved say, watching as confusion clouded her eyes.

"What is it?" She asked, sensing something wrong.

"You need to get out of Sin City—away from me—as soon as possible. You need to leave and not come back." She looked at him in even more confusion and doubt, events from that afternoon replaying in her mind. "Unknowingly, you're connection to me has put you in danger."

"Aaron! I can't just leave," she said exasperated, hating the way things were going. This was not how she envisioned the evening going. "What's happened?"

"I can't risk getting you hurt because of me. You don't need that—"

"What did you do?" She heard herself ask, her tone sharply accusing. He stiffened—what about this didn't she understand?

"Things I cannot undo—and for your sake—leave Sin City tomorrow. I don't want you losing everything because of me."

"'Losing everything?' Hell Aaron, I lose everything by leaving the city. I'm not leaving." She said definitively, walking slowly towards the kitchen, worried somewhat by his silence.

"Blythe please," came his strained voice, "I care for you too much for you to be so cavalier about this."

"I'm not leaving. You want me to lie?" She asked him point blank.

"No, I want your honesty and I want you gone." Blythe fought whether or not to bring up this afternoon.

"Fine. First flight I can get."

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

"I can't stay here. Bye Blythe."

"Bye Aaron." She sighed, as he turned and left, wondering if she'd called him Zach would he still have left so abruptly.

the end

She dropped her keys on the entryway table exhaustedly. It'd been a long day…too long of a day in Blythe's mind. She shed her coat and flipped on a light, sighing deeply.

"You said you would leave." She froze, seeing his silhouette against the window

"Sure I said it. Doesn't mean I meant it," she said pointedly, "I only said that to end things faster, so you would stop worrying." She stared at his back as he sat at her desk.

"And you spit my legitimate concern back in my face…how sweet." He spun around in the computer chair, the long barrel of a gun extended by a silencer gleaming in the early evening light. She should have known.

"Oh please Aaron," she reached into her suit jacket pocket and pulled out a small gun of her own, "don't think I walk around unarmed in Sin City—"

"Basin City I though it was." He said, clearly mocking her form the first night they met.

"You helped me see it as Sin City." She said coldly, a part of her unable to believe she'd ever let herself love him, the other wondering why she'd ever let him go. He regarded her coldly, sternly. "So what…you're threatening to kill me?"

"If it will get you out of the city, then yes."

"Aaron, I—" she stopped, hating the almost pathetic tone to her voice, "I don't know what to tell you. I can't leave—I have a steady, legitimate job—those are hard to come by—you know that. I appreciate your concern—I guess lying did throw it back at you," she admitted, guilt flooding her heart, "but that wasn't really my intention." He looked at her, his eyes unreadable. Those eyes she never thought she'd be unhappy to see.

"So now what?" She asked, a note of remorse and curiosity on her voice, watching as he listened to all that she'd said as though he was just humoring her or granting her a last request. She turned the gun over in her hands before decidedly setting it on the entryway table. "I don't think you'll bring yourself to shoot me, Aaron." She tried to forget that he was an assassin-for-hire.

Still he said nothing. She took a step towards him, dying to know what he was feeling beneath that cold, unreadable look of his.

"If killing me is the best way to keep me from this trouble that has you so worried," she continued simply, a note of sadness and simplicity in her voice, "then at least I'll die knowing you love and care that much for me." She stopped before him as he remained sitting. He inwardly marveled at the open honestly in her words and in her eyes. She seemed to have no qualms with her death, but she couldn't leave a simple city? It seemed questionable to him…but still, she was right.

His worst fear confirmed. Standing there so openly, honestly and almost innocently, despite his better knowledge—he could not bring himself to kill her. No one else he'd ever hit had looked at him like that. And no one else he'd ever hit had he known so well. And somehow, she seemed to know it all.

"Please Aaron," she said, nervousness starting to build as he kept the gun out and said nothing, "put the gun away." She said softly, hoping. He raised his eyes to hers and immediately she saw the broken resolve. He silently rose, placing the gun into a pocket. She sighed silently, finding relief wash over her.

"Aaron I'm so sorry—I should not have lied." She placed a hand on his cheek, turning his face back to hers. He looked so torn. He turned her hand over and kissed her palm gently, sensually. She felt all too familiar feelings at his touch start to consume her. Her smile widened and she involuntarily stepped closer to him, encircling him in her arms as she felt his wrap around her. He held her tight, as though begging or pleading or protecting.

"Blythe—you cannot stay—you're not safe—how else need I say it? You've been linked to me—someone somewhere will find you. And that's what I don't want." He whispered in a silent, pained rush, not sure how much she would be able to understand.

"I know," she whispered in his ear, bringing a hand to the back of his head, "I know, Zach. You're not the only one with shady connections." His eyes steeled over and he stiffened. She knew his real name…his real name that only those knowing his real profession knew. She was sure to be killed now….it was only a matter of time, for knowing that much information about him was dangerous. He pulled her tighter, embracing her warmth, steady heartbeat, soft scent, the gentle feel of her fingertips running through his hair.

Silent as a whisper it came, until it exploded in her ears. Pain so numbing it couldn't be felt engulfed her as her breath caught in her throat and the silenced shot pounded in her ears.

He quickly pulled her right side against him and sank to the floor, holding her close, whispering soothing words she couldn't understand. All she was aware of was a presence so warm and comforting surrounding her that she felt hard pressed to remember anything else. It was peaceful….so peaceful of an embrace. Darkness was slowly eating away at her mind, leaving in its wake nothing. Nothing but peace.

"There's no reason to miss this one chance, this perfect moment. Just let me fall."

The eerie silence of death filled her small apartment and he knew what was done was done. Careful to keep her left side from him, he gently carried her to her bed and pulled a blanket around her, as though she was just sleeping. And in a manner of speaking, she was just sleeping—but a sleep she would never wake from.

He took one last look at her face, noting in particular the look of unconcern and freedom on her pale face. Even in death she was still beautiful in the most natural way to him. He ran his hand down the soft contour of her cheek bone before turning and leaving.

No one had seen him come and no one was seeing him go. He wondered how long it would take for someone to find her. But he shrugged such thoughts away, not really caring.

Blythe Martin was no longer his concern. She was free…and more importantly, she was safe. Anybody who knew that much about Zach Greene was only safe in death. And that's how it would have to be…it was the life he chose.

"I will dance so freely/ holding onto no one/ you can hold me only"

the end.

again, thanks for reading--hope you enjoyed. please post a review, constructive criticism or comment if'n you want. thanks again for stopping by!