My take on Cassian's point of view of chapter 24, the third and final part of the Bloody Maria arc. Most of Cassian's dialogue is quoted from a translation of the chapter, so I don't own that, the series, or the characters. Implied JezebelxCassian, Implied CainxRiff.
Thunk.
With a final throw, I have him pinned, pressed up against the tree like an insect. A specimen. Things that have become very familiar to me recently, but are of no importance at the moment. At the very least, I have to delay this man. At the most, I have to kill him. My own preference would be to kill him, since that would simplify things and he would be out of our way for good, but he is proving himself to be much harder to handle than I'd expected. It was foolish to underestimate the man that the Doctor's enemy, Count Hargreaves, keeps so closely at his side. He wouldn't be so trusted if he didn't possess some margin of skill. However, now that I've finally bested him, it's time to end it.
Calmly, I pull out another knife, deciding whether to aim for his heart or his throat. The throat is the best option for a swift kill, and I would be less likely to miss. I have nothing against this man, so there is no reason to make him suffer. He's an obstacle, simply an object in the way of what I need to accomplish. One that needs to be dealt with swiftly, so that I can rejoin the Doctor and fulfil any orders that he gives me. He's probably thinking the same thing about his own master, the count. So there's really no hard feelings from either of us. We simply can't afford to lose.
"Now is the time for you to prove to me that what you said earlier is true." I tell him, sliding my knife between the first two fingers of my right hand in preparation to throw. "You said that you don't fear anything. Now let's see how strong the bond between the two of you is."
Because there is a bond. Invisible as it is, it is undeniably there. They've proven that time and time again. Now, I'm going to test it. In my own way, I'm just as fascinated by it as the Doctor is. Since I was sold to the circus by my parents, the only bonds I've experienced are ones of pain, of servitude, of ridicule, of hatred: A bond built of love is completely beyond my comprehension. Are bonds of love stronger than bonds of hate? Today, I plan to find out.
"If you really don't fear for your life, then let's see you try to move. The next one's gonna go straight through your throat."
He's thinking. I can see it in his eyes as I bring my arm back. This man is clever, and he's running through any possible way that he can avoid the knife and escape from me, to return to his master. In his mind, that's the most important thing.
So why do I allow myself to be distracted by sounds from inside?
By the time I notice his movement, I'm a split second too late to counter effectively. I throw my knife, aiming for his throat, but don't get to see where it hits as I'm blind-sided by his jacket -and his fist in it- colliding with the side of my face.
"Wha-!" Cursing to myself for allowing this to happen, I reach under my shirt for another of my hidden knives, still recovering from the blow. Before I can bring it out, a wet, sticky substance hits me full in the face.
"Damn it!" I yell, disgusted and blinded, raising a hand to clear the substance, which smells like blood, from my eyes. Falling for such a cheap trick-! "My eyes!"
I can hear his footsteps retreating, heading towards the castle. Towards his Count and my Doctor. I lost, and the Doctor is going to be furious with me.
Quickly, I clear my eyes and give chase. I'm fast, but he's already out of sight, and has too much of a lead for me to halt him before he reaches the castle. At the very least, I have to get there in time to provide backup for the Doctor if things turn sour on us. That's the only way that I'll be able to redeem myself.
Scrambling up the walls of the house, finding hand- and footholds in chipped brick and climbing vines, I know my speed and dexterity comes from the small body that I was cursed with. The one that never grew. The reason for my never-ending ridicule. I've long since been an adult, but not once have I been viewed as one. I pull myself up through the window just as the Doctor is starting to climb out of it. So I've arrived too late, after all.
"Doctor! Please forgive me." I say, feeling the ragged edge of the broken glass biting into my palms as I'm reduced to begging for forgiveness like a dog. If only it weren't something that I'm so painfully used to.
I wait for him as he declares his challenge to his younger brother, still hanging from the window frame, but still ready to face any attack that should come our way. Only when he moves do I allow myself do drop down the side of the house and follow him as we make our escape.
Why was that brat's servant able to best me? Because I was distracted? Because I allowed myself to be swayed by a tiny amount of worry that I shouldn't have allowed to exist? I'm a miserable fool. One that refuses to acknowledge that I wanted their bond of love to win.
In some ways, I'm still very much the child that my body continues to hold onto. A child's desire to believe in love, in peace, that fear and pain don't exist all the time. I allowed myself to fall victim to such childish hopes, and that's why I was beaten. But it won't happen again. I won't fail the Doctor again. For this man, who kneels sobbing in the broken glass and smashed remains of his mother and sisters, I will continue to fight. Because that man, while in the form of an adult, is still an innocent child inside, desperate to hold on to the fragile belief in love that is constantly torn from his grasp by those around him. He is much to fragile for that.
That's why he needs me there. A dog is better companionship than nothing. A bond of servitude is better than bonds of oppression and hatred. As an adult, it is my duty to protect this child. So I will win next time, and the time after that. There is no other option.