A/N: I have some seriously awesome readers. I love you guys! I hope this doesn't disappoint anyone. Suspend disbelief too, because I don't know if what I'm gonna describe is even possible.
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Austin and Ally because then I could ogle Ross Lynch, but alas. I also know nothing about the Witness Protection Program or if something I'm about to describe is even possible. Also don't own Nightwing or anything in the DC universe.
Chapter 4
"Tampa? As in Tampa, Florida?" she asked, eyeing Austin suspiciously.
He had a funny look on his face, as if he was shocked she'd had to clarify, replying, "Uhm yeah. Unless you're wanted for murder by the Tampa law enforcement or something."
"Oh," she muttered, her absolute dejection stifling any amusement at his joke. "That's not far at all. I expected to be farther away from him."
He nodded sympathetically, keeping his eyes on the road as he explained, "I have a handful of places that no one knows about for situations like this and one of them is in Tampa. Besides, getting on a plane without anyone finding out is nearly impossible and I didn't figure you'd want to go on a cross country road trip."
"So you handle 'situations like this' a lot?" she asked, honing in on the small bit of information about himself he'd supplied. Ally was finding Austin to be a bit of an enigma for her, as he was ostensibly forthcoming but she knew almost nothing about him. Meanwhile, he was inextricably involved in what was without a doubt the worst day of her life.
He jostled slightly at her question, evidently uncomfortable with her prying, but covered it up with a cocky smirk. Laughing lightly, he answered, "I am the best in biz." She furrowed her brow in frustration at his incredible ability to answer her questions without giving anything away.
"That doesn't sound like a typical police officer job."
"It's not. I'm not a member of the police in the strictest sense. I'm a member of the Witness Protection Program technically, but I've been stationed with the police for an experimental program to get witnesses to a safe environment with as little people involved as possible. It's typically done for people who would testify against powerful men who can purchase people's loyalty. It's been successful this far."
"But you show up with the police when they're called?" she asked, attempting to square this information away with what she'd already seen of his life.
"Well, yeah. I'm not really supposed to, but if I'm being honest, cases like yours are pretty rare. So, most of the time I'm sitting around and waiting and I'm far too qualified for that."
"Too qualified?"
He winced, sensing how he'd left himself open for further questions. "This is going to make me sound conceited, but I've got a handful of skills that make me something of an expert in certain fields. I've trained in dozens of fighting styles ti get better at my job and I've been trained as a spy. I worked in the FBI and CIA before settling on the Witness Protection Program."
Ally felt her jaw literally drop. She'd thought he was intimidating when he was just a handsome police officer with lame taste in cars.
"Holy guacamole! You're only like 25 though! What motivated you to do all of this?" she exclaimed well past the point of being self-conscious about how many questions she was asking.
He laughed awkwardly and answered, "Well, if I'm being completely honest, I'm a closet nerd. So when I was growing up, I just wanted to become Nightwing. So, I made my parents sign me up for classes and had some interesting travelling opportunities. I was always good in school and with computers so that helped a lot. I was scouted by the CIA when I was eighteen, while I was still taking classes, and switched over to the FBI a couple of years later. I finally ended up at the WPP like three years ago. This is my first year playing cop."
"So, you just go with the police to get criminals and stuff?"
He nodded and seemed amused her surprise. This was clearly a reaction he got a lot and he certainly didn't seem to mind it. Why should he? He'd accomplished more in the last three years than she had in her entire life. A couple of days ago, the most substantial thing to have happened to her included getting engaged to Dallas and that had failed spectacularly.
"I'm sometimes a real asset. I learned a lot about profiling when I was with the FBI so I'm good in interrogations. And I'm smart enough to get by. In hand to hand combat, I'm definitely a force to be reckoned with."
Ally forced herself to shut her mouth. All of this information actually made her feel safer, but it made Austin that much more intimidating. Typically she got tongue tied around all boys, especially ones as handsome as he was, but she'd managed to overcome the obstacle of her awkwardness. With the knowledge that he was essentially a superhero, she could feel her shyness kick in.
He chanced a glance at her and seemed to read her hesitance in her face.
"I've scared you off, haven't I? Do you want me to tell you something embarrassing about myself?" he asked.
Ally nodded, still having trouble convincing her tongue that this was the same Austin she'd fallen asleep against the night before.
"My middle name is Monica."
He paused, waiting for the laughter, and she didn't disappoint. Without hesitation, laughter bubbled up past her lips.
He laughed a little with her and exclaimed, "Okay, laugh it up. Enjoy it."
When her laughter subsided, she wiped the tears from her eyes and asked, "Why on earth would you tell anyone that?"
He shrugged and gave her a sideways glance before answering, "Well, I can tell that you're kind of shy, but I'm really liking bring able to talk to you and I don't want that to go away."
Ally felt her face heat up and resisted the urge to revert back to a nervous tic she'd long since abandoned and chew on her hair. He was handsome and sweet? Well, that just wasn't fair. Where were all of the friendly and approachable super spies?
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, with him focused on the road ahead of them and her turning to sneak secret glances at him with alarming frequency.
"So, tell me something about you. I know where you work and stuff, but otherwise nothing really," he said, breaking the silence and conveniently skipping over the other things he'd managed to pick up about her while they'd known each other. Like the way her eyes would water when she couldn't breath or the way her hands looked covered in blood.
She considered the request briefly, resisting the attempt of her brain to keep her bogged down in the memories of the past few days, before answering, "Well, I'm kind of a dork too. I'm not big into comic books though. I do love to read. My sister used to joke that I'd read anything I could get my hands on and it was true. When my parents wanted to punish me, they'd take my books away."
He laughed at her statement and she offered him a wide grin, finding amusement in what used to once be the bane of her teenage existence. While her sister was being grounded for sneaking out and sneaking cigarettes, Ally was comfortably lost in stories of long lost alchemists dying without changing their lots into the gold they so longed for or of young men saying they loved young women and then proving it. She in no way followed in the footsteps of her young heroes.
"What's your favorite book?" he asked.
"That's a tough one. I've always been a big Jane Austen fan. When I was younger, I worshiped the Harry Potter series. I wanted to be a wizard so badly."
"I loved Harry Potter! I wasn't a big reader when I was little, aside from comics and well, textbooks, but I loved those books!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with a childlike excitement that had her wondering if her eyes ever shone like that.
She smiled and asked, "Well, when you weren't studying, reading comic books, or mastering various forms of martial arts, what did you do for fun?"
He smiled widely and replied, "Music. I love to sing and dance and I can legitimately play any instrument. I can even play a trumpet, out of another trumpet!"
Ally laughed loudly and asked, "Seriously?"
He nodded widely, his face breaking into a full-blown smile and Ally wondered what exactly this man couldn't do.
"Yes. How about you? What'd you do for fun other than read?" he asked.
"Pretty much the same. I play the piano and I love to sing and write songs. I never really sing in front of other people though because I have a teensy weensy case of stage fright."
"That's a shame. I bet you have a pretty voice."
She cocked an eyebrow at him and asked, "Why do you think that?"
He shook his head and replied, "I'm not sure. You have a really pleasant speaking voice I guess, that kinda just sounds like it would translate well into singing. I also just get a good feeling about it," he paused before adding, "I'd love to hear one of your songs one day."
Ally smiled and stated, "I'd like that." She wasn't sure anyone had ever told her they'd had a good feeling about her voice. Her sister and close friends had always been completely supportive of her passion for music, but she'd never sang for anyone outside of that small group. When she'd offered to sing for Dallas, he'd assured her that pretty, young songwriters were a dime-a-dozen.
He smiled too and they made eye contact quickly before he directed his gaze back to the road. Evidently a moment of eye contact was enough to give her butterflies. She looked down at her lap and they lapsed into another comfortable silence, this one more laden with a sort of tension that Ally couldn't quite name. Not as contented with the quiet as he was moments before, Austin turned on the radio and changed it to a station that pleased him. He glanced at Ally and she nodded her approval at his choice and turned her troubled thoughts to the music.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ally had made a mistake.
She shouldn't have been there. She should have been at her bachelorette party with her friends and her sister, not hiding in her closet praying that her fiancée wouldn't find her.
Through the crack in the door, Ally watched Dallas hovering over the man bleeding out on their bedroom floor. She absently wondered if this was why he'd refused to allow her to carpet their bedroom as she heard the man whimpered. A sick smile spread across Dallas' face like the sound brought him the sweetest satisfaction. It was so different from the charming and suave Dallas to whom she was accustomed.
Ally struggled to keep her breathing quiet and prayed that he wouldn't hear her heart beating out of her chest. Her brain focused all of its power on her survival instincts, whatever they may be, not even allowing fear or surprise to pervade the distance she'd placed between herself and what she was seeing.
Suddenly, Dallas' phone rang, eliciting an almost irritated look across his face as he pulled it out of his pocket to scan the caller ID.
His cold eyes found the man again and he said, "I'm going to be right back. Try not to die until I do so. I want to watch it happen."
Ally waited until Dallas left the room and slammed the door behind him to step out from the closet thoughtlessly and pull out her own cell phone. She dialed 911 with shaky hands, now crouched over the dying man.
An operator asked her why she'd called and Ally whispered, "My fiancée stabbed some man and he's dying. He doesn't k-know I'm here. Please help."
She gave the operator her address and shut off her phone to prevent them from calling her back and letting Dallas know she was here. Hesitantly, she presser hands against his wound to apply pressure and slow down the death they both knew was in store for him.
"H-help me," he sputtered, the sound of his voice reduced to mere rasp of noise.
She felt tears prick the corner of her eyes as she assessed him, trying to remain detached in her judgment that he was only a little older than she and sported a wedding ring. Despite her best efforts, devastation wrapped itself around her throat. She felt like she was bleeding out here with him and would die as surely as he would.
"I-I'm so sorry," she whispered, her tears falling to his face and racing down his cheeks like they knew what was ahead and wanted no part of it.
He knew he was going to die. So did she, but she refused to remove the pressure her hands exerted on his wound, hoping against hope that she could stall his death until the police came. Forever wishing to pass the buck to someone more capable. It was her hands being stained with blood this time, and no amount of washing could clean her of that.
Slowly, as if the effort was painful, the man brought his hand to rest against Ally's cheek. She leaned into the tenderness of his touch and wondered who was comforting whom. Nothing could convince her that there'd ever been or ever would be a moment more intimate than this.
It was shattered at the sound of his footsteps approaching them. The man's eyes widened in horror and he whispered, "H-hide."
All she could do was comply, scurrying to her hiding place in the closet. The jaws of life couldn't have pried her gaze from the scene before her visible through the crack in the door.
"I can't talk about this anymore. I've got to go," Dallas' voice concluded as he hung up the phone. The door creaked open slowly and Dallas reentered her field of vision.
He looked down at the bleeding man, the cruel smile returning to his face. He stepped around him deliberately, his eyes never leaving his victim, like a predator circling its prey. He stopped by the window and glanced out of it casually, as if checking for the coast to be clear was second nature.
He looked away just as quickly, freezing as if realizing what he'd seen and did a double-take.
She didn't know how she knew he'd seen her car in the driveway, but she did with an absolute certainty that terrified her. The tremors that tore through her informed her that her body, if not her brain, had caught on to how much danger she was really in/
His smile widened and the eyes she'd learned to love were nothing short of pure evil.
"Where is my darling Ally-cat hiding?"
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ally came to awareness slowly, wracking her brain to figure out where she was. Her traitorous brain supplied her with the answer that she was with Dallas. She'd never left him after all, causing her to jolt forward in her seat, restrained by the seat belt tightened against her chest in preparation for an accident.
Austin looked over at her in panic, swerving slightly on the road, before turning to face forward again, his own chest rising and falling more quickly than usual.
"Are you ok?" he exclaimed, concern and confusion lacing his voice and soothing her frazzled nerves. Dallas wasn't here. She'd left him. She was with Austin. They were driving to Tampa. Her brain traced back over the circumstances that had brought her to root itself in the here-and-now. She was safe.
"Y-yeah," she stammered, struggling to get ahold of her breathing.
He watched her from the corner of his eye nervously as she took deep breaths, clearly not believing her answer.
When she was able to convince her heart that she wasn't under attack, Ally asked, "Austin, can I ask you for a favor?"
He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment before replying, "Anything. What is it?"
"When we get to wherever you're taking me, will you teach me how to fight?"
A/N: For anyone who doesn't know, Nightwing is Dick Grayson aka the original Robin from like Batman comics. He is boss. I know I kind of gave Austin some new characteristics in this chapter, but I hope I kept him in character despite that. Please review for like questions or complaints or ideas. I am open to anything. Please review!
a/n2: I'm rewriting this essentially. So if you're re-reading this and it's different, that's why.