When the sound of the gunshot echoed down the stairwell, Cal felt his heart almost stop. "Gillian!" He renewed his efforts to loosen his bonds.
Harris stood, looking up at the ceiling as if it were glass and he could peer right through. Glancing down at the struggling man on the floor, he gave him a well-placed kick to the head. The steel tipped boot had the desired effect. Cal stilled, suddenly seeing in shades of gray. "You need to stop that little brother."
Ian sat back down. "Huh. Do you think one of us just lost a partner?"
"Bastard." The word was a whisper as Cal feebly clung to consciousness.
"Shall we lay a wager?" Harris reached down and grabbed the other man's shoulder. Lightman's head lolled, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. He was out. "Oh. Never mind." Harris released his hold.
It was still quiet upstairs. Ian was starting to be glad that Cal wasn't conscious for the bet. He himself would probably have lost. The woman, no doubt, had Mason's phone and was currently calling the cops.
Now. How did he want things to end?
Reaching into his inner pocket, Ian pulled out his little Spyderco. It was his detail knife. That's how he thought of it at least. It had never been used on a man before. He preferred women. Their skin was so soft and smooth. Blood seemed to run so much more freely.
Pushing from the couch, he kneeled by Cal. He thumbed the blade out. It was well oiled and came out easily.
(BREAK)
Gillian stood trembling and gasping, the gun still firmly in her hands. She had thought she'd heard Cal yell her name but she couldn't be sure. It could have just been in her head.
Mason lie a couple of yards away from her, his face a mask of shock as his last few heartbeats pushed precious blood out of the gaping wound.
She approached tentatively before kicking the knife away. It landed under the bed somewhere. "You son of a bitch. He trusted you!" Her voice was a low hiss.
Mason continued to stare up at her for several more seconds. His mouth moved, almost like he was trying to speak to her. His eyes then went blank.
Brushing tears against her shoulder, she kept the gun trained on him with one hand and searched his pockets with the other. She attempted to avoid his blood, but wasn't very successful. Gillian found his phone and almost stumbled backward in her haste to get away from the body.
She was shaking so badly that it took three attempts to call 911.
(BREAK)
"Get up."
Through his haze, he could feel Harris roughly pulling him upright. He also became vaguely aware that his hands and feet were free. All he could feel at that particular moment was puzzlement. A strong arm crossed in front of him, fingers digging into his side in their attempt to keep him standing.
He blinked slowly before his strength began to flow back into his body.
"Awake now?
"Bastard."
"I'll take that as a yes."
Cal felt something cold against his throat. He didn't need any imagination to figure what it was.
"I could be cliché and tell you to call for Gillian but I'm not going to bother. You'll just say no."
"You think?"
Ian ignored him. "Gillian? I know you can hear me honey. Cal's in a…an unenviable position and I need you to come on down."
"Foster. Do not do as he - "
Ian moved his knife hand up and with the flick of his wrist, gave Cal an inch long furrow across his left cheek just below his eye. "Naughty. Next one will pop your eye out like a grape."
Cal grunted but clenched his teeth in anger.
"This is what I want you to do Gillian. I want you to throw your gun down the stairs. But please make sure the safety's on. Wouldn't want anything unfortunate to occur."
"The police are on their way!" Gillian's voice was strong as it floated down to them. Cal smirked, feeling some inadvertent pride.
"Oh, I'm sure they are. But the question is: What will they find when they get here? One body? I guess that goes without saying, but will there be another one or will there actually be two more?"
Gillian stood on the top stair, gun down against her leg, debating.
Making her decision, she descended the staircase.
"I thought I asked you to throw the gun down." Harris' voice was almost pleasant and Gill felt another tremor of fear pass through her.
"You did and I decided not to." She was now on the first level but didn't come any closer.
Cal looked battered. An ugly bruise was beginning to form near his temple and blood ran freely from a cut on his cheek but his eyes were sharp. He gave her a tiny nod.
"I see. Well, this isn't exactly what I had in mind, but I'll make due. As Mason had no doubt informed you, we tend to be flexible. I wanted you to be the one brother, but Dr. Foster will work."
At those words, Cal felt the grip on him loosen, the knife moving away from his throat. A strong hand gave him a shove and he stumbled toward Gillian before whirling around and facing the other man.
Harris' face was completely blank. He still held the knife but reached into his pocket and pulled out the other gun before proceeding to drop it and kick it toward Cal. "Okay, the stage has been set. Lets get on with it."
Cal leaned down and picked up his weapon, frowning in confusion. He cast a quick look at Gill. Her expression mirrored his own.
"I'm waiting Dr. Foster."
Sirens could be heard in the distance now.
"Not a lot of time."
Gillian was shaking again. "What are you talking about?"
"You both realize that I won't stop. I can't stop."
Fatigue. Cal had picked up on it earlier tonight. Harris was done. He wanted out. He wanted the game to be over.
"Cal?" Gillian glanced over at him, completely unnerved. She was close to breaking.
"Look, I'll try to make it easy for you." Harris caught and held Cal's eye, silently communicating. Cal started to shake his head but the other man moved quickly. The serrated edge of the knife glimmered wickedly in the light as he darted toward Gillian.
Cal was the one to do it. Not acting on reason only instinct, his gun swung upward and he squeezed the trigger. Just once.
Harris fell sideways into the end table, knocking it and the lamp atop it down with him. They could hear him gasping but he remained still.
Cal approached cautiously. As he passed Gillian, she reached out and lightly touched his arm.
The knife had flown out of his hand at the bullet's impact. Harris lay on his side, face waxen, eyes wide. He smiled as Cal crouched down next to him. "I'm glad it was you. I think Dr. Foster's spent, don't you?"
The man's breathing was erratic and labored. Blood coated his lips but he reached a hand toward Cal. For everything that could have or should have been, Cal allowed him to take his own. The man's grasp was very weak but his stare was intense. He kept eye contact even as the police flanked them. Then, like a light being switched off, he was gone, the hand limply sliding from Cal's.
Cal stared down at his brother for many long moments, wondering about him, wondering about himself. Nature or nurture?
He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder before climbing to his feet and immediately folded Gillian into his arms. She clung to him, grabbing at his shirt, face wet against his chest. They continued to stand together as emergency personnel moved and squeezed around them.
(BREAK)
By the time the house was cleared, the early morning sun had started to make its appearance.
They sat on the couch, Gillian leaning her head against Cal's shoulder. Neither said a word. Both had entered that grainy state of awareness that comes with no sleep for close to 24 hours, although adrenaline was now waning.
"Gill?"
"Hmmm?"
"Why don't you sleep in Emily's room? I know she wouldn't mind."
Gillian stirred slightly, mumbling something almost incoherently.
"What was that luv?" Cal leaned down to catch her words.
"Don't want to be alone right now."
He pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Me neither."
Without another word, he stood and pulled her up next to him. She walked with him willingly, arms around his waist. They climbed the stairs, Cal pausing long enough to pull the guest room door shut, before heading to the master bedroom.
She crossed to the bed as he went to the dresser to pull out another t-shirt for her, figuring that the dress she still wore was probably not the most comfortable thing to sleep in. When he turned, Gillian had already passed out, breathing softly. Cal's eyes hovered on her face before gliding down the rest of her. He loved her so much.
Tossing the shirt back in the drawer, he kicked off his boots and crawled onto the bed next to her. She nestled against his side automatically as he put an arm around her.
He had killed for her tonight and as he gently pushed her hair behind one ear, he knew that he could do it again. Without hesitation.
On the other hand, Gillian had also taken a life tonight. She had had no choice but he couldn't help but worry how it might affect her in the weeks ahead. He could only hope that she would turn to him if she needed to.
Tightening his arms around her, Cal fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.