In, out.
Silently, he pulled back on the taut string, feeling the muscles over his right scapula bunching as his elbow barely brushed a twig. His breath caught, but his arm never paused until the bow gave, the pressure on the release suddenly less.
In, all the way, out.
The arrow sat lightly, seemingly floating midair. Surely, when he finally released it from its magical binding, the arrow would shoot forward like a spell before embedding perfectly in his target.
In, out.
He didn't have much longer to wait.
In, out.
There was power in his stillness. Jeremy knew nothing more empowering than the feeling of his bow, stretched and ready to fire under his stoic regard. Thoughts stilled and his mind was suddenly lucid; there was no complicity, only the shot and success. Only the strength of his arms could protect his victim once he'd drawn his bow and only the strength of his will could end them.
In, out.
He couldn't be far.
He sucked a breath
In and slowly out.
His bow was so much more personal than a gun. A gun only needs a finger to kill, while a bow enlists the whole body to fire. The stance is integral, the form of your arm when you draw the bow deciding just how long you can hold the string. Even your face must be just right, or the arrow could fly wrong. You have to think about what you're doing; decide to go through with it. Decide that you can live with the consequences. So much goes into deciding to shoot... And then the completion of the shot itself. There's no waving a bow about haphazardly if you're at all serious about your target. No, you have to know your target, know its actions, his thoughts, the way he'll move when he sees the bow, sees the threat...
Jeremy shook his head, trying to rid himself of those thoughts. Yes, a bow is much more personal.
In.
There was a stirring in the brush not ten yards away.
Out.
Finally. Finally.
He would have his answers.
In.
Tyler seemed to melt forth from the shadow rather than walk. He froze when he saw Jeremy. He didn't even seem to notice the bow, or the arrow trained on his jugular. His arrogant lack of caution was infuriating.
Jeremy's voice was cold when he said, "You would have killed me."
Tyler looked agonized. "Jer-" he murmured, reaching out, taking a step.
"Stop!" Jeremy shouted, everything about him warning the other not to come closer. "You would have killed me, for no reason other than he told you too. You, Tyler, you were going to kill me."
"Jeremy, let me explain," Tyler took another step forward.
"What's there to explain? You're not Ty, not anymore. You're just Klaus's bitch!" Jeremy spat, anger heating his voice.
"I am not-"
"Then why did you try to kill me?" Jeremy cried, focus dissipating into fury.
"Because! Because…" Tyler searched, but his eyes couldn't find the words he wanted. "I don't know, Jer. I don't know anything anymore. It's all so fuzzy. He's like this beacon, this lighthouse in the mist. I just… I have to." Tyler deflated and ran a hand through his hair, wrenching at it with a fervor reserved only for the tortured.
"That's not good enough." The ice had returned to Jeremy's voice. "You're dangerous. You need to leave, Tyler. Leave town or I'll end you." Focused and cold once more, the icy killer he'd unfortunately become, Jeremy raised his bow. It had fallen, unintentionally, during their exchange.
Jeremy breathed slowly in, out.
Silence between the two hung stale and stagnant in the air. The animals had all quieted, even the insects. They sensed the pain fermenting, the death that was soon to come if Jeremy had his way.
Finally, Tyler whispered, "I can't leave. I won't."
Jeremy's eyes stung at his decision, but the pain didn't keep him from his reply.
"Then you'll have to die."
"Jeremy…"
In, half out.
The arrow flew.
A/N: I'm feeling like I should continue this (because I have this lovely scene playing out in my head) but I have very little time as an intern and student. For any of you interested in being a doctor, always remember: Cardiologists sit. Interns stand. Wear comfortable shoes. Anyway, I'd love your thoughts on this little drabble and your opinion on whether or not it should be continued or left standing.
You no longer need to read this author's note, it simply tells the origins of this story, and my frustration with its coming about.
I have half a week to do with as I please. Do I write as I intended? No, I've the most unfortunate writers' block. I go back to having to do that despicable thing called work, which I actually, secretly, kind of enjoy. SH. Tell no one. 15 minutes for lunch? I wrote this rather than eat. Hence its brevity. I hope you don't mind. And now, I have little to no time between interning, school, and the ranch. Yet I am determined to keep writing. Whether that be fiction or fanfiction is up to my lovely readers (what few there are. I'm able to love them better that way, or so I tell myself. ;) ) to decide. Thanks for reading this far. You're truly wonderful for giving me your time.