Dead Wrong
Author's Note: "The Rundown" fic. A different ending to the deleted scene where Travis and Harvey are fighting in the mud after the water tower falls on the jeeps. Told from Travis' POV.
Disclaimer: "The Rundown" is not mine. Pity. What I would do with Seann William Scott...(Not that, ya pervs!)
***
"Pull the trigger!"
"O-okay,"
A gunshot rings out. My smile fades from my face. Oh God. Pain blossoms in my chest, spreading over my body. Harvey grins as I fall onto my back in the water. I hear him run away, probably with my gato in hand. Although, right now, that's the least of my problems, 'cause right now I'm bleeding to death in a lake of muddy water. I was wrong. His gun wasn't out of bullets, and I'll never know if mine was because it's disappeared in the mud. Too bad. A gun would really come in handy right now. I know that's cynical. People recover from gunshot wounds all the time, right? Well, I have a feeling I"m not going to be among them. I can hear my heart failing, and there isn't a hospital for miles.
"Travis!" Beck suddenly appears at my side, kneeling in the water. I try to greet him, say a joke, anything to make life easier; to make reality easier, but I'm paralyzed. I feel Beck's large hand press on my chest, staunching the bleeding. His free arm slides under my neck, cradling my head out of the water. "Hold on, Travis," He tells me, looking around frantically for some kind of help.
"Beck..." I finally find my voice. He looks down at me. "You're a good guy..." Pain stabs my body with every word. "Please...get away from him..." I wince and take a few gasping breaths before continuing. Tears obscure my vision, but I could've sworn that Beck was crying. "Before he destroys your life, too..." I feel weak, sapped of my energy by a few sentences. Oh no...I'm dying...
"Who?" Beck's voice is distant and hollow.
I swallow before answering: "My father," The world is drowned out by my slow, irregular heartbeat. This is it. The end. I'll be dead at twenty- three. Only the son of Billy Walker, I suppose.
"You're a good man, Travis," I can hear Beck clearly. "I wish we could've met under better circumstances. I think we would have been good friends,"
Really?...Yeah...Thanks, Beck...Wait...why can't I hear...my...
Author's Note: "The Rundown" fic. A different ending to the deleted scene where Travis and Harvey are fighting in the mud after the water tower falls on the jeeps. Told from Travis' POV.
Disclaimer: "The Rundown" is not mine. Pity. What I would do with Seann William Scott...(Not that, ya pervs!)
***
"Pull the trigger!"
"O-okay,"
A gunshot rings out. My smile fades from my face. Oh God. Pain blossoms in my chest, spreading over my body. Harvey grins as I fall onto my back in the water. I hear him run away, probably with my gato in hand. Although, right now, that's the least of my problems, 'cause right now I'm bleeding to death in a lake of muddy water. I was wrong. His gun wasn't out of bullets, and I'll never know if mine was because it's disappeared in the mud. Too bad. A gun would really come in handy right now. I know that's cynical. People recover from gunshot wounds all the time, right? Well, I have a feeling I"m not going to be among them. I can hear my heart failing, and there isn't a hospital for miles.
"Travis!" Beck suddenly appears at my side, kneeling in the water. I try to greet him, say a joke, anything to make life easier; to make reality easier, but I'm paralyzed. I feel Beck's large hand press on my chest, staunching the bleeding. His free arm slides under my neck, cradling my head out of the water. "Hold on, Travis," He tells me, looking around frantically for some kind of help.
"Beck..." I finally find my voice. He looks down at me. "You're a good guy..." Pain stabs my body with every word. "Please...get away from him..." I wince and take a few gasping breaths before continuing. Tears obscure my vision, but I could've sworn that Beck was crying. "Before he destroys your life, too..." I feel weak, sapped of my energy by a few sentences. Oh no...I'm dying...
"Who?" Beck's voice is distant and hollow.
I swallow before answering: "My father," The world is drowned out by my slow, irregular heartbeat. This is it. The end. I'll be dead at twenty- three. Only the son of Billy Walker, I suppose.
"You're a good man, Travis," I can hear Beck clearly. "I wish we could've met under better circumstances. I think we would have been good friends,"
Really?...Yeah...Thanks, Beck...Wait...why can't I hear...my...