Title: Instinct
Author: veiledndarkness
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Doing the right thing hurts. AU
Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended and no profit made.
For the prompt Right
XX
Vengeance...he wants it.
It's all consuming, a rage inside him, and a desire to kill, to destroy the man who took Joe from him. Joe, the last good thing in his life, his baby brother...God knows he tried his best with him. And maybe he fucked up, made him just as bad as the rest of his gang, but what else could he have done?
His fury is unending, a horrid grief in his eyes when he back is turned to his men.
And yet...he knows the score.
He started this; he forced Joe into an initiation. He remembers his own and in his deepest of secrets, he grieves for the young girl he cut down. Her desperate cries haunt him still.
An eye for an eye...
He forced this and that boy...his father; he started this vicious cycle of violence.
He looks to the briefcase, to the pictures in the wallet, and sighs. He can go two ways and neither will satisfy him. One of bloodshed and a weariness that runs bone deep, the other, an unforgiving sense of grief.
He studies the pictures, tears prickling and stinging under his eyelids. He thinks of the boys in the photos, how it would have been to have loving parents.
Two ways, two endings and he's torn between them.
He sighs again and grabs a black marker, scribbling across the picture.
XX
Nick holds the brown papered package, his heart thudding painfully against his ribcage.
The man standing before him hardly seems old enough to sport the hardened eyes of a criminal. He looks Nick over, assessing him, his lips curled up into a somewhat mocking smile. He tips his head to him and leaves, the security guards watching him warily.
Nick unwraps the package, aware of the confused eyes on him, his co-workers appropriately horrified by a gang member's presence. He exhales when he sees his briefcase. His hands shake as he opens the case.
Papers lie neatly inside, his wallet resting on top of them. Nick opens the wallet, his fingers numb and useless. His credit cards are in the slots; his identification is where it should be. With growing unease, he flips the plastic picture sleeve out and the pictures slip into his fingers.
He stares at the picture of his family, of the four of them smiling into the lens of the camera. He turns the picture over, tears in his eyes.
For one moment, he can't breathe, can't think. The words are scrawled across the back, messy and distinct, like the writer was in a hurry.
A life for a life…This ends now.
Nick exhales and a strangled sob catches in his throat. He nearly drops the picture; his hands are shaking that badly. He closes his eyes, desperately afraid that he's dreaming, afraid to believe that the wrath of a gang lord is no longer dogging him.
He tucks the photo back inside his wallet and looks out the window of his office. He can see them standing on the street corner. Nick looks down, his bandaged hand on the glass pane. The tallest of them, he looks up, seemingly staring back at him.
He feels a thousand emotions rush through him, anger, grief, gratitude and a deep sense of pity and overwhelming guilt. The tallest, Billy, he thinks distantly, nods at him and walks away, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers.
Nick thinks that he feels sorry for him, certain that there's no happy, loving family waiting for him to come home. He swallows over the lump in his throat. He wants to call out to the boy, tell him he's sorry, ask him why they did it, and demand that he be punished as well.
But nothing escapes him and he watches the boy leave.
XX
Billy sits in his car, smoking silently. He flicks his cigarette out the window, ignoring the men around him. He sits and grieves the loss of Joe, grieves for the lives he's stolen, and his own life, wasted by years in a cutthroat gang.
He closes his eyes, gathering himself. He's made the right choice, he's sure of that. For once, he's made the right choice, no matter how much it hurts.
XX