- When you get out... well, I hope you can start all over again. I know I've said this before, and it didn't end well... but I love you, Paige. Good luck. With everything. -
The recording ended, and Paige hung up the phone with unreal calmness. She stared at the crack on the wall in front of her, while the iron grip around her wrists began to burn like never before.
Her fingertips lingered around the curly wire before letting go. The smell of damp and urine she had grown accustomed to for the past months seemed to have gotten dense and heavier. She could barely suppress a retch.
Sitting across from her, Mike carefully stared at her. Paige watched him too.
He wasn't wearing one of his usual clean suits, meaning he wasn't there as an agent. He was wearing simple jeans, a gray T-shirt and a black leather jacket that made him even more fascinating than she cared to remember.
They studied each other for a time that seemed endless, until the guard stepped aside to give them privacy.
Mike didn't know what to say, where to start. Being around her after two months, seeing her dressed in that orange jumpsuit, upset him. Words he planned to share suddenly disappeared from his mind. Eventually, she was the one to break the silence.
"Hey. Surprised to see me in such good shape? You can now tell Charlie I'm fine. She's probably the only one who gives a fuck."
Her voice, which was exactly as he remembered it, made him come to his senses.
"I-"
Paige smiled wickedly. How many times did she hear him stutter like that? Even now his voice stung more than a bullet wound.
"As I said, tell her I'm good. I can rest all day, work out, and If I ever feel lonely I could always get assistance from some repressed chick around here. I've already been hit on quite a few times. Not bad, uh?"
Mike didn't flinch once and kept staring. Not one word escaped his lips. Just a long, suffered breath.
"You don't have to..."
Paige sarcastically raised her eyebrows. "What? Be here? Keep us apart?"
The poisoned tone in his former partner's voice cut him off. A few minutes passed before he was able to speak again. He rubbed his fingers together and tried to straighten his back to give himself some tone.
"Treat me like this."
If at first she'd seemed absent, now her look burned with pride. It wasn't anger, nor sadness, but something even harder. A cold and sour disappointment that hit him right in the face.
"Didn't seem like you cared these past months, did you?"
The side of her mouth curled up with a sarcastic smile. For the first time since knowing her, Mike was afraid. Of that smile, of what would happen to her once he left the room to never come back again.
It'd been two months and he never came for visitation. Every one came, except him. He didn't call. He didn't write. He didn't even show up at her trial. All because of the fear of losing it all. He trembled at the thought of putting an end to everything they could have been.
Once their imminent bitter chat was over, there wouldn't be any Graceland, no safe haven to run back to, no clean images to establish or protect. Mike would move on, maybe even have a son, but Paige wouldn't.
It would be over this time. There would be no going back.
"Why now, Paige? Everything was fine, we were seeking normality. Now... why didn't you tell me? I would, I could have done something. This last grad, all-out scheme to go out with a bang... why? "
"We've talked about this."
"We haven't talked about it at all. Paige, look at me."
Mike sighed and, without even thinking about it, he crept his fingers up the back of her hand. If he'd thought things through, he would've never done that - Paige dodged his touch like fire.
"That's enough. We had fun, but it's time to settle down and man up." Shrugging her shoulders, Paige grinned and laid her hands flat on the table, away from his.
The chair wobbled when she tried to get up to hide her nervousness. The plastic cups and the jug of water toppled over and fell to the ground, but neither bothered to look down. Two officers jumped forward to grab her, and Mike waved his hand to signal everything was fine.
Their eyes were glued together. His fingers curled tightly around Paige's slender wrist to keep her down. "I don't get you."
"What is there to understand?" Paige tore her arm out of his grasp and gritted her teeth, lowering her voice to a menacing whisper. "We did enough shit, it's time to fix things. You must move on and I... "
"'What is there to understand?'" Mike repeated.
Sitting astride on a rickety chair, with the cold metal freezing him through the fabric of his jeans, he was really struggling to follow her. "You. I want to understand you. I'm not saying that it's unwise for us to go our separate ways... but you did it all yourself, you didn't even ask for my opinion. This is not the end, Paige. Not like this, this is not the way!"
"There was nothing to discuss. You have nothing to do with it, it's something I have to do. It's my life, Mike, and you're not part of it."
Mike turned to her. The neon light made her green eyes almost glassy, translucent. They were full of anger and resentment and anxiety. Things he had never seen veiling her face.
He was fighting with his own self - to try and say something, make her change her mind, but he knew there was no way she would. He wanted to scream and tell her to go to hell for that.
His expression hardened.
After an heavy silence, Mike cleared his throat, making sure that no one in the room was paying them any attention, and leaned forward. "But you're a part of me."
The weight of those words left them both stunned. The moment was full of emotion, but lasted only a few seconds. Paige slid down her chair with slumped shoulders and tilted her head to the side. "Are you sure about that?"
"Stop it." Mike growled. "D'you realize what's to lose with this? You'll get the death penalty, at worst! All this time fighting needles and you wanna die from one now?"
Paige let out a laugh - she rested her elbows on the table separating them and put her chin up on her curled fists. That position was so innocent and provocative at the same time that reminded him of the good times they'd spent together. Times so far away in the past, now.
Just when Mike thought they could pick up from where they left off - those lingering touches, stupid jokes and puns, secretive looks - and then this happened.
"Maybe... maybe not," she winked. "That's the beauty of it."
Mike avoided her eyes for a few seconds. Maybe he could imagine a life without her, but a world without Paige? He wasn't sure he would ever be able to stand it.
"Stop now before it's too late, Paige, everything will be fine: we'll get you out. You can disappear for a while, until things cool off and the DEA destroys your file. But now you have to fabricate some story, a plausible one. You need to-"
His voice trailed off with a croak. He felt stupid. But Paige didn't seem to care.
"Mike, I had a fucking bloody gun in my hand. I kept civilians at gun point."
Mike ignored her words.
"An alibi. That's what you need - a strong one. Don't give too much out - don't be picky, you know the rule."
"I killed three men."
Mike looked up at her and saw that her freshly cut hair, initially messily thrown into a bun, had fallen out due to the sudden movement from merely ten minutes before. Leaving her blonde locks to cradle her soft face. He noted the black circles around her eyes, probably due to lack of sleep and the remorse for what she'd done that was eating her inside.
The shotgun almost fell out of her hands when the vehicle lurched along the country road. That road she'd taken thousands of times during her investigations. But this one was different. This was a case against herself.
"Watch out or they'll get us off the street with a spoon!" Paige shot a murderous look at the greasy man at her side - his slimy, dull eyes shone with excitement behind his black mask and the glimmering light of his gold tooth made her insides churn.
"Don't worry, dollface."
The getaway car was a nice green pick-up. It was old, but its engine still roared like a beast - probably a hot rod. The upholstery was impregnated by the erotic smell of smoke and weed. Only later Paige would wonder if that was what influenced her choices that day.
They'd been on the run for two hours, but she already knew how it would end. She had everything figured out.
They arrived at the bank with shotguns and masks over their faces. There were four of them - three bursted in, while one was their lookout. They made a big mess, yet they were efficient and accurate. But Paige had it all figured out.
Three bursted in, but two came out.
The official version was that there was a shoot out inside when one of the customers tried to step up and be a hero. He was about to be killed, when Paige fired, shooting her accomplice in cold blood. She struck him in the chest. It was a matter of time before the man was dead.
The civilian's shocked eyes were still engraved in her mind - they were shadowed by a mixture of awe and terror, as her accomplice's warm blood spluttered all over her chest.
On the news they'd say the man was shot so up close and precisely that the gunshot crushed his ribcage on the spot. He bled to death.
And Paige didn't lose one second of that death. Walking in circles around the lifeless body, she watched as the blood rippled down the floor.
Only when the lead thief came out of the bank vault with their loot, Paige sobered up, blurting out a distorted version of what happened as they fled away on the beaten up pick-up. With a shot of luck they managed to escape and run faster than the shots cutting through the air, while the FBI arrived on the site. The bullets bounced off the walls, hitting the tin trashcans and parked cars on the way.
Paige spat out the window, wiping the blood that had splashed on her face. She was breathless and tired, but addicted to all that danger. The shortness of her breath, the smell of fear and tension so thin but pungent that made her skin crawl. She turned around as soon as the car screeched off behind an abandoned motel, to see if the FBI was already there. The ringleader was in the backseat, getting high, and staring off into space with a satisfied smile. Not even bothering to what was happening around him.
Before they even got around to how it happened, he and the driver were already dead: without flinching, Paige pulled the trigger twice, shooting them in the head. Then she calmly dialed Johnny's number, full aware of how close he must have been as he ran back up for her.
The revolting scent of blood and shredded brains flooded the vehicle and Paige had to get out to shake it off her black jumpsuit. She had enough time to clean herself up before they got her in handcuffs for triple murder. She took all the time she needed to treat the bleeding wound on her arm in the deserted powder room.
"Shit." She hissed when the emergency bandage around her arm loosened up and fell off.
Police sirens shone out along the horizon through the window but Paige didn't move. She stayed, hypnotized by the sound of what was to come.
"They were criminals."
"You sound like Briggs."
"We all make selfish acts."
"Like burning a girl's body, right?" Her voice was harsh, scolding, but it was also hiding something more. Maybe guilt, denial. "You say you want to burn Briggs. Well guess what? You're not far from being him."
No. Paige wasn't sorry for having ferried those empty souls to the next world, despite having turned into a murderer erself. No. 'You - this goddamn medal, is a constant reminder of what I did wrong.'
"Get your story straight and forget about all this." Mike pleaded.
How long would it be before she would be able to see her friends again? Would they still be there when she'd get out? And Mike. Surely, they would never cross paths again, no matter how much Mike wanted to. She wouldn't allow it.
"And you? Will you ever be able to forget? Tell you what: no, you won't. You need adrenaline to survive. First it was Briggs, then it was Sid. Now it's me." Paige mocked him. "You don't want to do the right thing, you only want to do what makes you feel better - a better guy, a better agent. I do too. That's why I turned myself in. The only difference between us is that I'm ready to pay for what I've done, you never will. You can't live your life at peace."
Without a sound, Mike sat there in silence. Yet, caged between the creases of his face, Paige could see the pain gradually building up. He was this close to give in.
"You'll never be able to forget. I know you."
Mike's look became indecisive. Then, suddenly, he stood up. In two seconds he was beside her. He stood exactly where he was, only a few centimeters separated them and Paige felt his warm breath on her face. Staring back at him, her gaze alternated from his eyes to his mouth.
The pain in his voice was clear to her ears. He probably realized that too once Paige's eyes closed as soon as his lips touched her forehead and his free hand tangled in her hair. Paige put her hand on his arm, instinctively.
"Don't let this storm take you away."
As he spoke, Mike's stare remained fixed on her face - it was as if he was trying not to move. Then he took a deep breath and walked away. When Paige opened her eyes, Mike was already too far and all she could do was staring at his tense back. She watched him stroll down the hallway slowly, until a loud buzz announced the closing of the security door that was soon to block her view.
She looked down and opened her hand he'd gently squeezed before leaving. There, in her unusually sweaty palm - there was Mike's St. Christopher pendant. It sparkled under the morning light that filtered through the barred windows as Mike's words echoed in her mind.
'Don't let this storm take you away.'
And Paige suddenly felt small. Trembling. Useless.
That was the last time she saw him fall apart before her. It was a precious moment, and she couldn't even explain why. Perhaps because from that moment on, Paige would search his eyes everywhere - among crowds, on TV, in the mirror - and they would never be found.
"Okay, Arkin, that's enough."
Her lawyer's voice was a distant white noise to her. It was vaguely familiar: the last time she saw him was when her brother went to jail for selling drugs and their parents had to bail him out, paying an exorbitant amount of money to spare him 20 years of prison. The Paige she once was would be horrified at the thought of her mother hiring him again. For her.
When his hand pressed into her shoulder, Paige snapped backward with a jump and something similar to a roar. Spenser's eyes squeezed in fear, like a rat. Perhaps he believed Paige would become crazy or probably already was.
"Okay, Ms. Arkin. Be patient. And please, don't do anything stupid."
Grabbing his briefcase, the lawyer sighed and turned away from her, squeezing her shoulder one final time. He motioned to the guard to be let out.
The bars closed behind him and Paige was left alone to contemplate the wall in front of her.
The warden narrowed her handcuffs before leading her back to her cell.