A/N:
So, yeah… second chapter. It surprises me how fast I managed to update this fic o_o
Any Mason lovers out there? It cannot be that only three girls in the whole site are crushing over him, right? :( unless you don't like OCs, which I completely understand.
A big thanks to SMakarov for her helpful review :) I promise I'll try not to bore you with my tedious narrative ; A ; I am so sorry! Writing the longest, stupidest and most pointless paragraphs you can imagine is like a curse for me! I apologize for that.
Another point I would like to make is that the timeline of the story takes place between Mason's and… err… the woman's first meeting, and how their relationship developed (?) until the point Alex has to take his leave. All that I ask from the readers is patience… all will be explained in due time.
Not much to say. Listening to 'Singing in the Rain' for two hours so… that explains it all ; A ; it's 03:00 in the morning and… if you see any typos or grammar mistakes, let me know please. At this point, I am so tired of reading over my work for the umpteenth time that it is inevitable for me to overlook some things. I'll try to fix them as soon as I can, I promise.
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Chapter II
V.
In an abrupt movement he had raised his left arm and closed his fist, silently commanding her to hold her position behind him. Actually, he was not expecting for the dark-haired female to take in his gesture, but his body had reacted out of reflex before he had the chance to repress the action. It was no surprise since many years in the military had bred some old habits, that even he found hard to break: he always woke up early every morning, out of a mere routine that would compel him to get up and work his body out, even in the coldest of days. The fact he had a writing utensil with him at all times in case the occasion called for a critical jotting in the middle of a predicament— a pencil to write the letters he used to send to his family during his days in Korea, waging war in muddy trenches while trying to ignore the exhaustion his body felt from his exertions to survive.
He never let his guard down when in foreign territory, never seemed able to relax for a mere second as he believed there was always danger lurking, and sometimes it drove him paranoid. He also found himself, many times, unconsciously studying people's behavior when speaking with them, in attempts to unveil their true intentions. To this day, it was hard for him to suppress his tendency of carrying everything with his left hand, only in case he needed to reach for his weapon.
And he always carried a knife… always.
He did not have to worry if she understood his visual sign, though, since she had long stopped on her tracks when the foreign echo of footsteps reached her ears, her heart skipping a beat at the prospect of close peril. Instinctively, the woman's eyes searched her surroundings for any kind of potential weapon to wield should things go wrong for him, anything that could be of use, only to find the spotless cleanness of the place hopeless and pessimistic— although she had a strong hunch she would not stand a single chance before those armed men that were after him. She could only try and save her life, even if it meant by tooth and nail.
Who was she trying to kid?
Thin fingers ghosting over his strong forearm, she mutely pleaded to whoever was up there to give her a third chance at life as she fought the urge to grip it like the coward she felt. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and she slowly swallowed, nervously nodding to let him know she trusted him and whatever he needed her to do, she would obey without a second thought. Trusting her safety to him looked like a better idea than trusting in her inexperienced self at the moment, she decided.
Placing a lone index finger on his lips, he made a request for her to keep quiet and indicated her to take cover behind the employees' locker with a quick wave of his hand. Without wasting any time, she did as he instructed and crouched at the back of the modestly large fixture. It would be futile if she stayed and pretended she could be of help since she had nothing to contribute to the assault he seemed to be planning— why else would he ask her to remain out of sight until he was ready to strike? If anything, she would surely get in the way of things and, probably, lead him to his defeat.
And so she waited in the safety of her hiding place… waited for the inevitable to come; holding her breath all the while for fear that the next lungful of air could be her death sentence; tightly closing her eyes as she bit her lips and braced herself for the worst. There could not be anything worse than Death itself, right? Perhaps there could. The fear of not knowing what lay beyond, in the afterlife. Would it hurt as much as they said? Would she remember the pain? Was there a place for her in Paradise or would she instead find her soul in the realm of Limbo, waiting for the judgment of King Minos to decide her fate? [1]
A muffled voice reverberated in the room, and a body loudly colliding with cold metal made her jump in fear as she heard the powerful struggles, low growls and heavy pants that he and another male forced out of their mouths while they fought hand to hand, none of them willing to surrender since the tussle grew more violent with every second. She had definitely forgotten how to breathe by now, and her body had frozen in apprehension at the close proximity the clash was unfolding, feeling the locker viciously shaking behind her.
"Trying to play the hero for your country, Joe?" He hissed, apparently making a great effort to keep the other man still. "Now tell me, what is The Company planning to do and I may give you a quick death."
That statement alone was enough to make her shudder at the way he had said it, like he would felt no remorse in carrying out his threat— it made her wonder what kind of mindsets he had; why these men were after him. Were they some kind of Mafia? Probably. Did those movies not show them mindlessly shooting at shops in a maniac frenzy out of the blue? Oh, what was she getting herself into? She did not know, but certainly the panorama was getting uglier with every thought that crossed her mind.
It was then that she heard weak laughter breaking the cadence of low huffs that had saturated the room with a sensation of utter uncertainty and aggression— a laughter that made her concern increase even more at the mocking connotation it clearly hid.
"Regardless of what you do it's all in vain, Mason. They already know you're here. Uncle Sam wants your head on a silver plate. You are alone in this. Alone. You need to die; you should be dead by now. And even if it's not by my hand today, some else will get the wet job done. You can hide, but you can't escape forever. You can't—"
A strangled groan was the last thing she heard before the thud of a heavy body hitting the floor let her know that there were worse things than the feeling of shards of glass painfully digging in her skin; worse than the fear of not knowing what was going on anymore, and the fact another man had been virtually killed right in front of her face— being aware that she was at the mercy of a seemingly cold-blooded murderer, was one of them.
And yet again, she wondered what she was getting herself into.
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VI.
She just had to let go of him, say goodbye and hold this as a fond reminiscence of those days by his side. How difficult could it be? Everything must come to an end, sooner or later. Her part in his story had concluded; she had to accept it. He did not need her any longer.
But the thing was: she did not want to let go. Oh! Seeing him standing before her made her desperately want to grab the sleeve of his shirt, tell him the news and see what his reaction would be. She wanted that so badly… and while she believed and dreamed she was revealing to him the reason for this bittersweet feeling, he heard different from her.
"In that case… I can only hope for the best." She added with a light and rather nervous smile, trying to fight back the tears that wanted to spill from her eyes.
He had warned her this would happen, and yet she did not listen to his words. He had told her not to drive him to do something they both might regret later… but she had been too young and careless to worry about tomorrow. And how could she listen? How could she stop when the look in the eyes of the much older male revealed so many secrets that meant to be kept— when their dark promise seemed to be calling out to her, luring her like a rabbit into a trap? How could she restrain herself from feeling these damn butterflies in the pit of her stomach whenever she caught his gaze scrutinizing her being, looking through her very soul? How could she hold back her desire to feel those strong and large hands caressing her skin— those very hands that had promised to take her to Heaven, Hell, and back.
He was the only one who had seen potential in her. He had been the only one to have faith in her; to give her the chance to discover things within her that she never knew were there. But if there was one thing she could not understand quite well, it had to be the true intentions that had led her to help him on her own accord when the world seemed to be crushing him under its might. Was it the stout fierce look in his eyes that had caught her in his well woven net the first time she met his gaze? Perhaps it was her drive to know his darkest secrets. Maybe it was her hidden fantasy of living the dangerous situations he engaged in. Situations that made her experience a horrid fear in the flesh, which only increased her trust in him whenever he protected her from harm and so did his trust in her every time she had gotten his back. Or it might be the way he made her forget the loneliness that had been eroding her short life for some time; how he made her grow into being a less ignorant mind…
And now he had made her the happiest woman in the whole world, but she could not tell him why. What was she to do when the matters of heart did not have a place in his life?
In her old life, there had been nobody at home waiting for her. Her existence had been lived in this small and cold capsule she called home; her dwelling and her work being the only world she knew of. She barely talked to her neighbors in the apartment building she lived in, and her social life was practically nonexistent. All her time had been spent in her efforts to qualify as a teacher with the financial support of her Mother whom, to her dismay, she was only able to visit during Christmas, and her new husband to whom the young woman was grateful to. She thought he was a good man, and if it made her Mother happy, then it was enough for her to be content.
All in all, her life had nothing exciting to it and was not unpredictable. But the lackluster routine she had grown accustomed to in these peaceful days was quiet and nice though a bit lonely for her taste, and she started to wonder if something as thrilling as the stories she had read would ever happen to her. Oh, if only she had known life was not a piece of cake as she had thought it was! If only she had known she would come to regret those unwise thoughts all too soon, for never in her life had she expected to be thrown into a messy and wrong world of which she had never known before. Never had she imagined that her eyes would be opened to a repulsive truth and the secret history she never found in text books.
And it sickened her when she found out the appalling reality that had been veiled from the people all this time.
Thousands of nuclear and biochemical weapons, and millions of lives at the stake of a minor mistake; about the net of lies under the governmental and military actions meant to cover atrocities such as the massacre of innocent people just to justify wars and offensives; the ghastly Project MK-Ultra of the U.S., which had engaged unwitting American and Canadian citizens in various forms of torture just for the sake of 'experimenting in the behavioral engineering of humans' and the manipulation of mind; or the dreadful Nova-6 and its vile effects on human beings. He had told her about how the Russians had tested the neurotoxin on their own soldiers, on civilians— on children, and it was then that she started to weep in hurt and impotent anger, thinking that those kids must have been around the same age as her little ones in school. She could not understand how anyone could be so heartless as to hurt an innocent being. It made her heart boil in rage as he tried to comfort her, saying that the monsters who had perpetrated those unforgivable actions were now burning in hell. They had been hunted down; their despicable lives had been put to an end— but the price to pay had been high, for him.
Her admiration for the American man grew a little more and, soon, she began to fall for this fearless dark hero against her will. Even if she tried to lie to herself, to blame this vehement and intense emotion on the fact that she had spent too much time alone with him, the idea of being important to someone was all too moving and stirring— it awakened unknown feelings she had never felt before and, somehow, it scared her how strong they seemed to be. It made her heart beat faster every time she saw him lost in his thoughts when he was seated outside, the tropical dampness in the air sticking to his faintly tanned skin as she, timidly, tried to proffer him with some homemade food of her own; it made her think of how handsome he looked whenever he took a white roll of shredded tobacco from a curiously engraved silver cigarette case (a gift from an old friend of his, he said), lit it and smirked at her unsophisticated wonderment, wordlessly inviting her to spend some time with him.
It surprised her how gentle and friendly he could be whenever he wanted to.
She listened till the break of dawn… listened to this comforting and soothing silence until a voice dragged her out of her warm thoughts.
He began talking… about how he met his good friend Mason in the midst of the misery and hypocritical decadence of Vorkuta; the story on how they fought their way to be freed from the arrogance and corruption of their evil leaders. That day the Gulag had burned, the walls were painted in blood, limbs were torn and sacrifices, made; they fought against their oppressors; they fought for honor, for vengeance, and for justice along with their brethren. They did not falter, they had nothing to lose— they had rather die trying than keep living under the tyranny and shame of these dishonored men. There was no denying of the pride he felt when a smile surfaced on his thin lips and before she knew it he was gone like a ghost, fading in the snow-storm of a wintry night, leaving her with a bitter feeling in her tongue, a poignant sensation in her stomach, and confusion in her heart as she took in the account of this man whose name was one she had definitely heard before— a name that was always whispered by his lips whenever he slept.
Alex's green eyes gave her a confused look while she finished drying her tears with the back of her hand, lying that she suddenly felt homesick with a nervous smile. For heaven's sake, the only thing she seemed to ever do was crying and it was beginning to irk her— or more like annoy her at how easy she could be moved. However, it was not entirely a lie since she truly missed her family and longed for the warmth of her former home. In other circumstances, maybe she would have taken Alex with her and introduced him to her parents as her friend. A very good friend, she liked to think. And despite being conscious that her loved ones were, surely, really worried by her sudden disappearance, she believed that, eventually, she would be able to see them again.
She only hoped that day would not come too late. [2]
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VII.
She slowly inched from her hiding spot, only to gasp at the sight of a gory mess and a wide-eyed man lying on the floor with a gash on his aorta, mouth agape in silent pain, and she felt like vomiting at the sweet yet sour smell of iron rust and salt that was beginning to fill her nostrils in a sickening wave. It made her head dizzy and light as his voice kept muttering things she barely understood, too shaken to by this sudden madness. She had never been so close to Death before, and seeing four corpses in a single day was sending her over the edge in ways she could not even understand.
"Oh. My. God." It came out as a whisper but it was not long before she started to break. "Oh… my God… OH MY GOD!" It seemed to be the only thing she was able to say in a cracked voice while he grabbed an assault rifle, and a couple of magazines kept in a tactical vest, from the deceased. By now her mind was in such a spineless state, that the mere sight of his face slightly splashed in red terrorized her— and yet again, only one thought came to her head. "Oh, God!"
"If you keep saying it, I'll end up believing you." He gave the youngster a sardonic stare and motioned for her to get on her feet as he glanced outside the back door. There was a narrow alley with a dead end to his left, and to his right the ostensibly deserted street could be seen from where he stood. So he narrowed his eyes as he clutched his weapon, warily scanning the rooftops for any signs of threat and, fast but alert, proceeded to the passage with caution.
Four men; he had counted four men earlier. There was still one to go.
"Let's get going." He ordered, but when he did not hear her light footsteps follow he went back on his tracks only to find that she had remained in her spot on the floor, unwaveringly staring at the corpse as if she was afraid it might bite her, and grew annoyed at the way she was wasting precious time. He was sure that it would not take long for more reinforcements to arrive to the place and, regardless of whatever tricks he might pull of, there was a high chance for him to lose the encounter. He too had his limitations, after all. "Come on, we don't have all day! Get your ass in gear, or I'll leave you behind!"
Gasping in surprise, she tried to swallow her fear and nodded as those words reminded her that his side might be the only safe place at this point. Or maybe not? She was so irresolute, unable to make her mind up. She still thought she was in a nightmare of sorts, and wished with all her might to wake up from it. Nonetheless, she hurried her steps to go after him almost stumbling on the way when another wave of wooziness attacked her without warning.
"Who are these men?" The woman built the courage to ask, resting her weight on the brick wall, once they were outside, as she held her head in one hand. One thing she was sure of, they were no Mafia as she had thought at first— not the kind she would have expected, at least. These men seemed well prepared and trained for this situation, if her poor and meager judgment served right, but the one in front of her had bested them in their own game. And also, the talk they had before— Uncle Sam? That meant the US wanted him dead? Just what was going on? She suddenly felt her blood running cold in her veins as her voice faltered in her dry throat. "Who… who are you?"
She was greeted with silence, and her worry increased with every second that ticked by, making her feel the urge to repeat her question in an attempt to get the much needed answer.
"If you want me to go with you, then at least I… I think…" What was she going to say now? "I think I deserve to know who you are!" She had no intention of running away with him now, but she wanted to know who she was dealing with before trying to escape. For all that she knew he could be some kind of terrorist, and if she stayed any longer with him the authorities would think that she was his accomplice. They would see her as his collaborator, his partner in crime and that she was not! She was not!
"You've heard it. I'm Mason." He finally answered, not paying much mind to the continuous chattering of her teeth next to his ear seeing as he had much more imperative matters to worry about than the fact she felt cold, and only wore a light greenish sweater. She, on the other hand, could not decide if it was the cold or anxiety that now made her shake like a leaf. Still, she wished she had her leather coat to keep her warm but, unfortunately, it had remained behind along with her other belongings when she was trying to escape from the dragon's jaws— it had remained behind…
Behind.
It hit her like a ton of bricks, then! In her imprudent rush, she had forgotten to grab her purse, and her identification had been left inside of it! At first, she had though it could be her salvation but soon her miraculous epiphany shattered, leaving her in a fret that almost made her hit her head against the wall. If the Police were to find it, she would be in deep trouble and explaining that she was taken 'hostage' by him would do nothing to earn her some credibility since people had already witnessed her running off with him. That would be enough for them to assume something that was not true, from her perspective at least.
She seriously needed to escape now.
"Mason, huh?" She gave a forceful laughter when she actually wanted to cry, and he eyed her with a serious look that was meant to tell her to not disturb him in such a distressing moment. "Err… look, I'm really grateful that you saved my life, but… huh, you see… I—"
As if on cue, another burst of bullets silenced her and out of impulse the female dropped to the floor, fresh tears now blurring her vision while she curled behind a trash container, desperate to save her life. She was really regretting her decision of going out this day. If only she had stayed at home… if only she had! She wanted out of this hell- She wanted for this nightmare to end now!
"Dammit!" Mason gritted through his teeth while mentally cursing other profanities as his body plummeted next to hers. He got distracted for a stupid second and almost got his brains blown by a slug. "Can't we just leave this shit for another time?! I don't wanna kick the bucket like this, you know?" He reprimanded her while watchfully sticking out his head to see if his foe was still there. No such luck, since the raucous roar of a car speeding up and driving down the street made his face fall even more when he realized that the last one had escaped and, undoubtedly, would report his positive presence in the city and an account of the events to his superiors.
Biting his tongue to stop himself from saying too much, he stood up, discarded the weapon in the trash container and glanced at her crying and trembling form, bent in a fetal position on the ground as she murmured what could only be described as futile pleas while rapid pants were heaved from her mouth.
Sooner than the woman expected, she felt someone grab her by the arm and yank her to her feet, shaking her in a violent manner as she squealed in surprise and fear.
"No! Let go of me! You're only trying to use me as a shield so you are not shot!" She said hysterically while trying to break free from his bruising grasp, and he rolled his eyes at her stupid assumption that she could serve as a safeguard for him.
"Shield? What fucking shield are you talking about? Do you think I can use you like a one and get out of here in one piece? These guys won't even bother to give it a second thought before shooting, even if you were in the way. Does it look to you as if they gave a damn before?" He tried to reason, but it was all in vain. She had already broken and gave into pressure, and for a moment he considered the option of slapping her in the face to end her panic attack that was beginning to get on his nerves, but settled on keeping shaking her until she snapped out of it instead. She was of no use to him in this state and, once more, he wondered why he did not listen to the Ice Cube's advice. Of course, he had not been expecting to find a commando woman but this one was such a wimp and had no resilience at all!
He seriously was beginning to question his own sanity. That was, if there was any left.
And she kept crying her eyes out.
"Please, j-just leave me here! I'm just a primary school teacher! I don't— I don't want any of this! Please, I'm only twenty-two years old! Don't kill me!" She pleaded, fighting to breathe as she felt she was being suffocated by her own pitiful whimpers. "I- I swear I won't tell anyone that I saw you but please, don't hurt me! Please! I don't want to die!"
And he saw in her teary eyes that she was just a girl— one that was scared beyond her own comprehension. He saw that she knew nothing of the world, and that she had dreams like he once had when he was younger— dreams of serving his country and fighting for what he had deemed was a right cause. He saw the same fear that had lived in the shadows of his mind, where the demons of his haunting past dwelled in the rabid storms of a dark sea full of disturbing memories.
Fear.
Just as she was trying to gather the strength to knee him in the groin, and flee from him, he forcefully grabbed her face and she suddenly found herself staring in the depths of sea green eyes… those very eyes that had made her think of the color of the Caribbean Sea in a sunny day when she saw them for the first time. She felt like drowning in this ocean that seemed to engulf her entire being, cooling her from the inside with their fresh hue. It brought goose bumps to her skin at the close proximity they were; and the way his ragged breath, mixed with his purely masculine scent, fanned on her face made her feel weak at the knees again. He towered her, and she felt so small… so insignificant before his impressive influence.
"Listen to me!" His voice was gruff and rough, demanding, but it did not help with the situation at all. She still was a sobbing mess, and the fact that she did not want to look him in the eye was starting to upset him since it meant he had to gain her trust somehow. He did not have time for all this psychological nonsense now, and he was feeling very tempted to leave her to be a diversion for the CIA, but… he would have to start all over again with another member of her family, and time was something he did not intend on misuse or waste anymore. "No, no! Look at me." He tried to soften the tone of his voice in hopes this would get her to feel more at ease with him. She was so thrilled by his commanding voice, so helpless under his controlling demeanor that she kept diverting her eyes to the floor as she muttered a weak refusal. She did not want to look at him. He made her feel intimidated, scared and vulnerable.
She just could not bring herself to do it…
"Look at my face, okay? I promise I'm not gonna hurt you, Miss. My name is Alex Mason, and I'm only trying to save your life." He paused when he noticed that his words somehow had a satisfactory effect on her, since she stopped crying, at least. It was a start, though he needed to be careful with his words. "Listen to me, I need your help. My country wants me dead and if I let you go now, I'm afraid bad things are gonna happen to you. These people are hunting me, and if they happen to capture you they won't believe you when you tell them you know nothing about me, even if it's true. You can either stick with me or suffer in their hands. It's your choice. I'll let you go, if that's what you wish, but there's no telling of what will happen to you after you this."
If he gave her options, a relative freedom, the power to choose, if he made her believe he was her only escape now, it would surely make him deserving of her reliance to some degree… even if it was born of fear and confusion.
But he had never expected it to be so easy to get her to say yes after his smooth-talking. And when he gently grabbed her by the arm all he could think of was how naïve she had been to trust him, as they abandoned the alley just in time to run off from the approaching sirens and their flickering shades of blues and reds that threatened to take their freedom away.
She had willingly put her life in his hands— his blood-stained hands…
And now there was no turning back.
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[1] A reference to King Minos of Dante's Divine Comedy. 'With his tail coiled around him, Minos judges the damned as they are brought down to hell.'
[2] I think I'll leave it to the reader's interpretation, whether Mason was acting as Reznov again or… some supernatural phenomenon… ; A ; don't kill me for that!
