A/N: Sorry it's been so long. I got really busy finishing up a class and then everything kind of went to shit. My family's been going through a pretty rough time lately and this week's been particularly hellish. As a result I've been struggling to stay motivated with working on this. I will finish this fic though; partly because I'm stubborn and partly because I know how much it sucks to find a fic you like and then never find out how it all ends... It might just take a bit longer than I originally anticipated.
Thank you Baffled Queen, Dumbass Femme, and Destiny's Freedom for taking the time to review that last chapter. And thank you to everyone that favorited or followed the story as well.
Again, I don't own COD: Ghosts or COD: Ghosts - Devil's Breath or their characters etc. I do however claim responsibility for Charlie's snark and awkwardness, along with Ryder. As always, reviews are welcome.
JULY 19, 2027
CHARLIE S. WALKER
The doc, Maritza she insists, isn't half bad for a Fed. True to her word I haven't seen hide nor hair of Rorke since I let her put me out and that must've been nearly two weeks ago. At least, I think it's been about two weeks. It's hard to tell. Maritza always dodges the question when I ask her how long I've been here, like she's afraid I'll shatter if she tells me the truth. I know it's been a while though. Long enough for the swelling in my arm to go down enough to trade my splint for a cast that ends a few inches above my elbow. Long enough to memorize the layout of this place and plan the quickest escape route. Long enough for me to bond with Maritza, like I said she isn't half bad for a Fed, and she's started to grow fond of me as well; she doesn't drug me nearly as often now and she's been a bit more lax about letting me roam the halls. Occasionally she escorts me or gets some random Fed to do it, but lately, more often than not, she leaves me to my own devices after giving me a reminder not to venture outside or into any restricted sectors.
For the most part I listen. I'll peek, on occasion, into areas I know I'm not supposed to be, but never more than that. At least not yet. Once my arm's a bit more healed and I don't have to worry quite as much about losing what little freedom I've earned, I plan on doing some exploring. Assuming I'm here that long. The first chance I have to get the hell out of here, I'm taking it. Hopefully it comes sooner rather than later; I know Rorke doesn't trust me, that he'll never trust me, and despite Martiza's promises I don't know how long I'll be able to avoid him. I want to get out of here before my luck runs out.
I'm wandering the halls and developing a backup route out of here when I hear a few Feds chattering. They're accompanied by a gruff voice and heavy footsteps. Way to frickin' jinx yourself, Charlie. Quietly and quickly as I can manage, I duck around the corner and wait. Eventually the footsteps and voices disappear and I let out the breath I'd been holding. Better get back to my room. I turn the corner and run smack into a solid wall of muscle, nearly ending up on my ass. Instead a familiar vice grip encircles my arm just above my cast and keeps me upright. Shit.
"What did I tell you about trying to run off?" Rorke says.
"I wasn't running off," I argue as I try and fail to pull my arm free.
"You really expect me to believe that, sweetheart?"
I briefly scowl at him before turning my attention back to his grip on my arm and trying again to pry his hand off, but that's it. I don't bother answering. The bastard's not going to believe me, no matter what I say. His free hand wraps around my chin and I flinch before I can catch myself. This bastard's way too comfortable touching me. I frickin' hate it. He must realize that because he's smirking when he tilts my face back up towards his. Without a word he forces me against the wall, following me as he does. The bastard's towering over me, trapping me between the wall and his body, standing so close we're practically touching.
"Now, what am I going to do with you, darlin'?" he murmurs, every word hot against my skin.
"You could start with letting go of me and backing the hell up," I snap as I abandon my attempts to free my arm and try my luck at shoving Rorke away instead.
Nothing. No matter how hard I push the bastard doesn't budge. He just laughs.
"I don't think so."
"Let go of me."
"No. You might be able to pull this shit with the doc, but I'm not her. I'm not your bitch."
I sneer at that.
"That's right. You're Almagro's."
Anger flashes across his face and I'm barely able to realize he's relinquished his grip on my face before my head snaps to the side. Pain explodes across my face and the entire damn world blurs dangerously before my eyes. No! Hell no. You are not passing out, Walker. Rorke takes a deep breath as everything stops swimming. My cheek's still stinging and my eyes are still watering when he grips my face tight again and turns it back toward him.
"I know, I'll just break your fucking legs," he hisses, refusing to acknowledge my comment, "I don't really want to, but I warned you and you didn't fucking listen."
"Don't," I say, but I don't yell; I keep my voice soft, that familiar sociopathic hum filtering through.
Rorke smiles and I feel sick. I'm pissed that I let myself get caught alone with him. I'm pissed that no one's happened by. I'm even more pissed that even if someone had happened by, no one would have done a damn thing to stop him. No one but Maritza.
"I know you won't fucking believe me, but I don't want to hurt you, kid. You're making me. This is your own damn fault, Charlie."
I open my mouth to respond, but shut it as the familiar staccato clacking of stilettos against tile reaches me. Instead of saying anything I drop my hand from Rorke's chest, giving up on pushing him away, and find my still healing GSW. I don't bother fighting the pained scream that wrenches free from my throat or the tears that stream down my face as I dig my fingers into my wound and I don't relent until I feel my stitches give and pop.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" Rorke demands, alarmed by my actions, as he releases my face and grabs my wrist instead.
"I'm not doing anything," I snarl quietly before letting out another pained scream.
Confusion colors his face but it quickly melts away as I yank my hand free and get to work coating Rorke's fingers with my blood. When he realizes what I'm doing his expression shifts and it's hard to tell whether he's pissed or impressed.
"Charlie?" Maritza's worried voice calls as her footsteps fall a little faster.
"Maritza! Maritza help me, please!" I cry, forcing myself to sound terrified before letting out another agonized shriek.
"You fucking bitch," Rorke says.
From the tone of his voice it sounds like he's not sure if he's irate or impressed either. I smirk briefly as I hear Maritza break into a run, though I'm careful to hide it as she comes around the corner. I make a show of trying to shove him away as she comes into view.
"Rorke! Let her go! Now!" Maritza insists, just shy of a snarl.
He doesn't. The hand on my arm tightens enough that I know I'll have bruises. His blood-slicked fingers curl around my throat and squeeze. Shit! That wasn't supposed to happen! I can't frickin' breathe and Maritza's screaming at Rorke and shouting for help. Rorke doesn't pay her any attention, he just brings his face in close to mine.
"Bet you think you're real fucking clever, don't you, darlin'?" he whispers viciously, lips brushing my skin; the bastard actually laughs when I start clawing at the hand around my throat, "She can't protect you forever. Better enjoy it while you can."
My head's swimming by the time he finally releases me, black spots dancing in front of my eyes. He steps back, watching with a smirk as I fall to my knees choking and coughing. I'm sobbing and cradling my throat, not entirely sure how much of it's an act anymore, when he turns to leave.
"See you around, kid," he says as he walks away and even though he's got his back to me I can tell from his voice that he's frickin' smirking.
I'm going to kill you. I swear to God I'm going to kill you, even if it's the last frickin' thing I ever do. Maritza rushes to my side and I just curl into her, sobbing hoarsely as she cradles me in her arms.
