Bobby didn't know what had woken him up but, as consciousness returned and he remembered where he was, he could not help smiling. As the warm body sleeping next to him also began to stir he reached out. When he ran his hand down Rachel's spine her back arched, body turning towards him, both of their minds focused on the possibility of a repeat performance of the night before. With his hand resting lightly on the curve of her hip and their lips millimetres apart, both wanted to deny the noise they heard coming from the ground floor but the sound of furniture being knocked over in one of the rooms below them was clearly audible in the otherwise still night.
"It's probably one of the neighbourhood kids," Rachel groaned. It wasn't the first time that the centre had had a break-in and, although she was glad that the kids trusted her enough to go there when they were in trouble, she would never understand why they insisted on trying to sneak in rather than just knock the door.
"I'll go check it out," Bobby said, reaching for his jeans, just as frustrated as she was at the interruption.
"Ok, but try not to scare them away. If they need a place to crash we've got plenty of room." She knew that the sight of a very muscly, half dressed stranger would not be the most reassuring thing for whichever teenager had decided to break in but he had already gotten up and it was far too warm in bed for her to leave if she didn't have to. "Try the office first, there are still some windows without security bars in there." she added as he headed out of the door, shadows playing across his back.
As Bobby padded down the stairway in bare feet he wished that he had taken the time to put on more than just his jeans. Although it had been warm under the duvet, it was practically freezing now that he was wandering around in the early morning gloom. He supposed that part of his rush to get down stairs was his eagerness to get this interruption over with as soon as possible. The quicker he sorted this out, the quicker he would be back under the duvet where he and Rachel would be able to continue what they had started. He didn't even know where the light switch was to turn on the overheads but, as far as he could tell in the dim light, there didn't seem to be any sign of movement.
When Bobby entered the office, the temperature dropped noticeably. The trail of broken glass leading away from the window which overlooked the alley at the side of the building indicated the point of entry for whoever had broken in but there was no one in sight. Snow was already starting to blow in through the broken pane but without going to get some shoes, he would be unable to patch up the window or clean up the mess. Bobby was still trying to remember the lay out of the rooms on the ground floor and decide where he should look next when he heard another bumping of furniture followed closely by heavy footsteps, a shriek of alarm and a gun shot.
He moved quickly over to his jacket, still resting over the arm of the chair that he had occupied earlier that evening, but as soon as he lifted it he knew that it was lighter than normal. He didn't need to check the inside pocket to know that the familiar weight of his gun was missing but Bobby knew he had it when he left the house. It seemed as if the person who broke in also had light fingers. Bobby could only hope that the gun went off by accident and that no one was seriously hurt but he would only have a few minutes to find out before Rachel came down stairs to investigate. Even if she had managed to drop back off to sleep in the few minutes since he left her, there was no way any of the building's inhabitants could still be sleeping.
Although the shot echoed around the hallway, it seemed as if it originated from the pool room. Armed or not, Bobby knew that he would have to find out what had happened. As he inched down the hallway, staying to the shadows, he imagined all number of scenarios but none came close to the vision before him when he entered the pool room. The dim early morning light only served to make Mark look even more pale than he was, still clutching the gun with hands that shook noticeably, wide eyed gaze fixed on the 30-something male sprawled over one of the pool tables. While Bobby had seen many gunshot victims and had been the finger behind the trigger on more than a few occasions, it was clear that Mark had never used a gun before in his life and had never been the cause of another person's death.
"Hey kid, why don't you put that thing down before it goes off again?" Bobby said in a way that he hoped was calm and soothing. As the teenagers gaze flew towards Bobby, muzzle of the gun moving in the same direction, Bobby was sure that he had made the biggest mistake of his life by speaking. Mark's eyes went even wider as if he had just realised what he had done and Bobby found it hard to contain his relief when the gun clattered to the floor by the boys feet.
"Leroy…" Mark, replied, voice hardly above a whisper, as if the name would explain everything. A few second of silence passed but before Bobby could speak again, Mark continued, breathing too fast, voice louder but now close to hysterics, "I couldn't sleep so I came down stairs. I was only looking at it. I was going to put it back, honest. He broke in and I thought he was going to get me like he got Francesca. I….I shot him. Oh God, I think I killed him. Did I kill him? Is he dead Bobby?"
Bobby had once thought that the fifteen year old had a hard, lean edge to him. He thought that, despite being used as a punching bag by bigger, older guys, Mark still had balls and attitude. He watched the young boys face crumple into desperate sobs as the shock took hold and he realised that for all his attitude, Mark was still just a child. Bobby had thought that the kid reminded him of himself but, in fact, he was nothing like Bobby at all. If Bobby had been in his shoes, he would have shot to kill and made sure that the aim was true, never shedding a tear. The last time Bobby had felt like this was almost five years ago when Jack came to him, hands bruised and bloody, words hardly coherent. It took Bobby all of his strength not to go and find Wentworth and finish the job that Jack had started but he had stayed with his brother, calming him, reassuring him and ultimately protecting him.
"Yeah, he's dead, Mark" Bobby said while he reached for the gun, clicking on the safety, fingers unconsciously working as if to replace Mark's finger prints with his own. For a few seconds, the world outside the pool room ceased to exist and all thought of Rachel and the other teenagers upstairs disappeared. "It's going to be okay, kid. Only you and me know about this so far. We can sort it out, you're going to be ok. Everything is going to be fine."
"I think it's a bit too late for that, don't you?" Jefferson's tall frame filled the doorway, his own gun drawn, eyebrows raised. "I thought you said I was never going to catch you at a crime scene, Mercer?"
