A/N: Hey guys,
I am so sorry this chapter took so long to get out to you... I have a number of excuses but honestly, the main reason for my relative silence is the fact that I have just been too busy to sit down and type out a chapter. This chapter I was finding particularly difficult to get out but obviously, since it has now been posted, it got out eventually - with a lot of effort and maybe some blood, sweat and tears (not literally but still...)
Regardless, I hope you enjoy this next instalment of Down The Rabbit Hole...
AshTree13 xoxo
P.S Just thought I should let you guys know, in case you are interested, that my second fanfic is in the works. It's a Hobbit fan fiction and I'm really excited about getting it out there - and yes, it will be a romance/adventure much like this... it will also follow mainly the movie guidelines because I could never write up to the standards of one of my fav writers, Tolkien. So... if any of you are interested, keep an eye out for the eventual release of the first chapter (and for the next one of Down The Rabbit Hole xxx)
*edited 23/12/15*
Chapter 19:
"How is he?"
Breathless and slightly red-faced, I scramble atop the crumbling stone windmill, struggling to catch a steady grip upon the loose shingles. The moment I have heaved myself atop the crimson tiles, my arms shaking from the effort and from supporting my body weight, I allow my body to fold in on itself and crash against the relative safety of the roof, struggling to take in gulps of fresh air, the action moderately painful due to my parched throat. With a grunt, I roll onto my side and angle my face towards Kidd, squinting against the brilliant light illuminating from the orange dyed sky, brushing strands of my red-gold hair out of my forest green eyes, chest heavy and body aching.
"Do... Do you mind re... repeating that?" I pant, throwing an arm over my aching eyes struggling to take calming, deep breaths that would hopefully help to steady my racing heart.
Despite the odd and out of the way meeting place - an ancient, crumbling stone windmill - I had to give Kidd some credit for formulating this... well, brilliant idea.
I had assumed that Kidd would have found it easier to talk in a pub - after all, the more crowded a place, is the less likely you are to be heard and that was the last thing either of us wanted - yet I can see the major pros such a meeting place could afford to offer.
For one, the view atop the old windmill encompassed the entirety of Kingston and even the sunset colour sea; no matter which way I turned my heavy head, I could clearly make out even the finer features of the city.
Pro number two: the location. The crumbling structure bequeathed to us an almost birds-eye look into Prins' heavily guarded compound. Of course, such a view presented to us the greatest possible advantage in assessing the situation and then adapting whatever plan we came up with to the features, structures, guards - any and all defences - that circulated the property below, almost like vultures. In fact, I highly doubted that any of the trained guardsmen circling the estate would hardly think to glance upwards; any potential intruders would be surveying the ground from below, no? And even if they did, by chance, think to direct their gaze to the height of the windmill, the harsh rays of the setting sun prevented anyone from catching a clear view, unless said person was desperate enough to risk their fragile eyesight.
In other words, it was genius.
The smart bastard.
Rolling those handsome grey eyes of his, Kidd continues his methodical shredding of fallen leaves, watching the decomposing pieces twirl and flutter towards the green covered ground, like some sort of strange ballet and although I catch his gaze flicking occasionally in my direction, the boy more or less ignores me. But then...
"I said," he answers with a long, drawn out sigh, tossing aside the few remaining leaves in his possession, "how is he?"
"How do you think he is?"I snap, launching myself off the loose roof tiles.
It was a dumb move, really.
Anyone with a functional brain and working eyesight would have realised that, despite the massive advantage such a structure presented, it was clearly a deathtrap. The stone walls of the windmill were crumbling and seemed to groan each time Kidd and I shifted our weight or when a soft ocean breeze whispered through the foundations cracks; a foreboding sound that seemingly indicated that if we were to make any incorrect movements atop the deadly rooftop, there was a enormous possibility of falling through the weak, poorly tiled roof. Speaking of the tiles, many were as fragmented as the building itself, with almost the entirety of the rooftop littered with loose shingles which anyone could slip on and fall to their deaths - the height wasn't exactly agreeable in that particular event.
And here I am, trying to throw myself at Kidd atop a building that was unintentionally trying to kill me; how stupid could I be?
I feel myself slip, gravity propelling my bodies weight forward towards the hard ground waiting below. There is nothing to grab onto - not a single tile and I'm not idiotic enough to reach for the windmills' blades - but I know the landscape beneath me will hardly be forgiving if I crash into the earth. Nonetheless, what can I do but close my eyes and anticipate the sound of my body crashing into the dirt, the sound of bones snapping and the wind rushing past my ears as I plummet to the waiting world below?
Answer: nothing.
Or so I thought.
"Tessa!"
A slender hand clamps around my forearm, the vice-like grip throwing me back against the roof with a loud, booming crash. Pain shoots up my spine, aches from my shoulder which was the first to connect with the unstable, clay tiles of the roof and my breath is momentarily forced from my body.
And so I lie there, temporarily winded with my back throbbing as my sensitive nervous system sends pain signals to my brain; I ache everywhere but I'm not a flattened pancake sprawled on the daisy-sterwn floor, I'm not dead and it's all thanks to the boy currently straddling my waist, his face inches from mine, face flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly with each sharp intake of air.
"Kidd..."
"You complete idiot!" he roars, his hands which grasp my forearms tighten their grip, his nails digging into my skin through the thin cotton blouse I wear, "why must you always overreact? You could have... gods, Tess, you could have died!"
"Good thing you have reflexes like a cat," I try to joke, flinching when his grip tightens - if possible - further; it was like the boy was trying to cut off any circulation to my upper body.
"You... you just...! Why?!"
"Why what?" I reply, rearranging my expression into one that's hopefully blank and emotionless. It is an attempt - a failing attempt, I might add - to try and hide my growing frustration at the man before me. I promised Edward that I would try to work with him, rather than against him, in order to locate the Sage and thus achieve our goal - well, Edwards' goal - at finding the Observatory. Yet, despite the fact that Kidd had indeed just saved me, it was apparent that I could not neglect my previous perceptions, all of which screamed at me to run as far as I could from the person who had been labelled traitor in my subconscious.
"I don't understand you," the boy mutters, his voice almost desperate as he shakes his head, strands of his windswept black hair falling into his pretty face.
"Sorry that you can't read me like an open book," I snarl, my pertinence running thin, close to breaking point as I wriggle and squirm beneath his oppressive weight and soul-searching stare, "now... get the Hell off of me!"
"No," came the simple, disdainful response.
"No? No?!"
"Shut up! Do you want to get caught," Kidd hisses, his contemptuous expression dissolving into one of pure panic. In his desperation to quiet me, he removes his grip from my right shoulder and attempts to cover my mouth with his strangely feminine, rough hand but the action doesn't quite go according to his plan. Not only can I sink my teeth into the salt flesh of his palm, but the lack of force pushing my body against the practically non-existant safety of the roof allows me to put weight behind my body and attempt to throw myself forwards; all with the intention of dislodging Kidd from his perch.
Of course... it doesn't work.
"Ow! What the fuck, Tessie?"
"Get off!" I scream, futilely kicking my legs, feeling the irritatingly familiar sensation of unshed tears burning my eyes and blurring my vision.
I will not cry, I think as I continue to squirm despite Kidd's desperate reassurances and attempts to assert authority, I will. Not. Cry!
"Tessa... please... just stop."
"Agh-" my voice breaks and with it, so does my will - well, a small segment of my will.
I feel the tension drain from my body as the realisation that each kick, each attempted punch, each and every word torn from my throat is completely pointless. It was futile from the beginning and I'm not entirely sure why I was putting so much effort into trying to escape, in trying to resist, when I know that I have to stick it out and try to work with this insufferable man. Besides... I wasn't particularly fond of the idea of being caught by Prins' guards and potentially thrust aboard yet another prison ship... and this time, it would be just me on that convoy. Still...
"Why are you being so nice to me?" I whisper, closing my eyes so to block out the innocently confused and relieved expression upon Kidd's rather attractive face, taking a deep, rattling breath as I try to sort through my scrambled thoughts, "I don't understand you at all..."
"What don't you understand, Tess?" Kidd asks me, his voice soft but serious - I know that he wants the truth.
"You left him."
"I knew that he would be okay with you," Kidd murmurs, his eyes widening with instant understanding, "because you lov-"
"Don't," I whisper with a low moan, clamping my hands over my ears as my heart gives a painful squeeze, a few tears escaping from the corner of my eyes, slowly drifting down the side of my face and eventually settling in my thick hair, which lies in a chaotic state across the greying roof. I bite my lip and swallow back the rest of my tears, desperate to keep myself together despite the emotional pain - the guilt - that is tearing me apart from the inside out. "If you have any respect for me left," I croak, opening my watery, green-blue eyes to shoot the boy before me a deep, loathing glare, "if you still consider yourself my friend, like he seems to believe, you will stop. Now."
"You can't deny it, Tessie," Kidd persists, shaking his head with disbelief and concern, "you can't run away from the fact that you lo-"
"Stop!"
"Love Edward," Kidd practically growls, once again pressing the majority of his bodyweight against me in an effort to stop my squirming. Taking my silent tears and uneven breaths as some sort of confirmation, Kidd nods his head in a solemn manner and finally removes himself from his straddling position, absentmindedly running a hand through his wind-blown locks as he settles himself, as comfortably as he possibly could manage, on the loosely tiled roof. Drawing his knees to his chest, he lets out a deep sigh and turns his face towards the fading sunset, the suns last feeble rays barely breaking through the approaching night sky, the hue no longer a soft red-gold-orange but a deep, almost royal purple. The once gentle ocean breeze is a little stronger now, causing the crumbling structure to creak and groan as if it were a prop from some poorly designed horror movie, but it cools my flushed cheeks and dries my red, puffy eyes as well as the tears that are soaking into my hair and skin.
"Listen," he continues after a long pause, glancing at my prone finger out of the corner of his eye, "I wouldn't have left Edward, shot and bleeding out in that cemetery, if it had been just the two of us. I knew, that if you were with him, it would be okay to continue gathering intel on Prins' operation and potentially carrying out my mission. I was confident that he would be in no danger because he had you, Tess."
"It was my fault he got shot," I mumble lifelessly, the guilt clawing at my heart, wringing it dry of any and all emotions except for regret and shame. It was my fault; that bullet had been meant for me and it would have hit it's mark too, due to my momentarily lapse of concentration. It should have hit me... but it hit Edward - because he just had to be the hero, had to prove that chivalry wasn't dead... had to keep his promise to look after me. "The bullet," I continue, turning my flushed, tear-stained face towards Kidd with a smile that was filled with pure self-loathing, "was meant for me... never for him, Kidd."
"Regardless, Edward took the risk"
"But-"
"The point is, Tessie, that Edward saved your life and yes, he did get injured in the process but he made that decision... you can't blame yourself for his actions."
"But-"
"You love him," Kidd interrupts for the second time, giving me a almost sad, longing look, "that's why the guilt is eating you alive... because you love the Bastard and you feel that it should have been you taking the shot for him. I can tell you now, he doesn't regret it - I know he would've have done anything for you, to keep you safe... he proved that in Tulum."
"..."
"Tess?"
"Why did you lead us into that trap, Kidd? Back in Tulum with the Assassins, I mean" I wonder, finally saying what I really wanted to convey to the boy who had lost my trust yet despite all that, despite all his terrible personality attributes, despite my pig-headed stubbornness to not forgive and not forget, he had still tried. I hadn't forgot what Edward had told me at the start of the new year, of Kidd waiting for him to return from Kingston, the bag of purchased medicinal Dogwood in his hands, patiently waiting to hand it over to my companion with specific instructions on what he was to do to rid me of my flu symptoms.
I wanted to know his reasons.
I was ready to hear them.
Finally.
"I didn't think it would get as serious as that," he eventually admits, biting his lip nervously, as if unsure how to proceed.
I don't push him; I wait as patiently as I could manage, studying the boy's shadow-lined profile as he debates on what to say and what not to say - which would be safe to say and which would not, because despite my ties to the Order, I wasn't actually a part of this particular faction and each guild guarded their secrets closely. Many Assassins took their secrets to the grave... I hoped that his answer wasn't one of those precious nuggets of truth.
"I thought that... that my mentor just wanted to know what Edward knew about the Observatory - it's quite limited, the information we have on it. I didn't think that he would pick a fight with Edward... nor did I expect Edward to confess to such a crime," Kidd sighs - the two of us seem to be doing a lot of that lately - and reaches out, grabbing one of my hands and giving it a comforting, friendly squeeze, "I also didn't expect you to have so many tricks up your sleeve, Miss North."
"Always the tone of surprise," I giggle, responding to his touch by returning the gentle squeeze with one of my own.
As we sit, watching the sun take its final bow as it descends beneath the ocean's deep-blue horizon, I can't help but come to terms with the fact that I had missed this; this casual, serene relationship that I had had with Kidd right from, well, the get-go. I missed the teasing and the random, flirty smiles he would shoot my way... I missed having someone who was just a friend, who I could rely on and one who would understand my position - Edward understood me... well, he understood me perfectly but I couldn't talk to him about my Order, about my life with them nor my life before. Kidd, on the other hand, was living the life I once lived - well, he was living the life Desmond had lived and the life I had supported from the shadows, yet that didn't really make any difference.
He would get it.
Edward was right, I think with a sad but fond smile, god, that will inflate his ego... me telling him he was right but he was... we've been acting like children, both us too headstrong and too proud to say that we both made a mistake.
Shuffling closer to my friend, I bump my forearm against his, offering him my open palm which he readily accepts with a soft grip. Then, and only then, do I feel myself entirely relax and allow the tension that has inhabited my body since the start of this miserable day, fade into nothing and with it, i rest my head on his shoulder with a soft sigh, closing my eyes to the fading light of the orange sunset. The pair of us exchange a soft smile and squeeze each others hand with a little more force as if believing that mere action would help convey our feelings better than any inadequate words could achieve.
I'm sorry.
0-0-0-0-0-0
"I'm torn."
"Between what?"
"Hmmm, let's see... I don't know whether I should I hit you," raising my hand, I quickly flick out a finger to physically demonstrate the list formulating in my consciousness, my head tilted to one side as I consider the possibilities, "stare at you in complete disbelief, laugh it off because frankly I knew there was something... well... how does one put this? Something different about you. Or I could just pretend like we never had this conversation to begin with and just continue on my blissfully ignorant way."
Kidd - well, rather Mary Read - turns his... I mean her pinched, rosy-red cheeked face towards me and offers a coy grin, one that causes her grey eyes to sparkle with mischievousness, a trait I had long since associated with Kidd-Mary... gods this was going to be confusing.
Honestly, I should've known - there was no way someone as delicate and as feminine as her could be a boy... well, she could have been a very pretty boy yet i doubted that was likely. Really, there wasn't much difference between James Kidd and Mary Read - obviously that was because they were both the same person but there weren't any real defining features that marked her out as a woman. I assumed she bound her breasts to keep her chest as flat as it was, in order to pull off masquerading as a male, and she evidently kept her shoulder-length, luscious raven curls pinned up to give the appearance of having an almost pixie-cut hairstyle but that wasn't anything, well, strange nor obvious of her feminine status. In fact, it was only the pinched cheeks that brought colour to her somewhat pallid but tan complexion and the coloured lips paired with the heavily eye-lined eyes which really brought out the heart-shaped, high cheekbone woman hiding behind her ratty blouse and ragged trousers, her well-worn boots and very masculine demeanour.
I was confident that she could've fooled anyone... not just me.
But, I was pretty blind not to notice.
"I can't believe you didn't say anything," I complain in a hushed whisper.
"And when exactly would be the right moment to tell you? We haven't exactly been on speaking terms, now have we?"
"Oh... right..." bowing my head in embarrassment, I glance over my shoulder and give her an apologetic look, "again... I really am sorry."
"So am I," Mary murmurs in reply, returning my weak grin with an apologetic smile of her own.
"Does anyone else know?"
"No! And you can't tell anyone, Tessie."
"I won't," I promise, holding out my pinky-finger.
"What are you doing?"
"Making a promise," I whisper back in confusion, tilting my head to one side with one of my slender eyebrows raised as I study Mary's perplexed expression, "haven't you made a pinky-promise before? Maybe you know it as a pinky-swear?"
"A what?"
With a sigh and a small chuckle, I grab Mary's hand and loop her pinky with mine, giving it three little shakes for good measure. Holding it up before us, I wiggle my pinky and grin in a somewhat cheeky manner. "I promise not to tell Edward anything... I cross my heart," I pause a make a show of drawing a cross over the left-centre of my chest, right above my heart, before proceeding, "hope to die... I'll stick a thousand needles in my eye."
"That sounds rather painful."
"It's just a saying," I say with a soft laugh before untangling my pinky finger from hers, watching as Mary, despite the perplexed look she continues to wear upon her pretty face, notes the sudden change in the atmosphere and immediately returns her focus to the plan she had primarily conceived atop that ruined windmill, her face lined with determination.
I knew it would be difficult; sneaking into the heavily guarding compound in which each sector of the damn manor seemed to consist of a number of guards, one or two snipers and an alarm bell, upon which the moment it was rung, swarms of guards would descend upon that sector with guns loads, cutlasses sharpened and face alight with excitement at finally - finally - getting some action in their otherwise dreary and long nights; of course, I had learnt this the hard way. Lucky for me, part of the plan was that under no condition would we go our separate ways because despite the renewal of friendship, their was still an underlying suspicion that the other would take what was theirs - plus, I wasn't exactly thrilled about plunging my knives and my newly bestowed rapier into someones chest... nor was I comfortable with shooting the pistol strapped to my waist; too soon. However, Mary had been able to work around the massive amount of soldiers standing guard and through utilising her eagle vision, had been able to gather a strong enough layout of the area that we were practically able to avoid particular hotspots, saving us the added trouble to dealing with power-hungry, trigger-happy guards and reinforcements. In a short amount of time - much less than I had expected - we had managed to make our way to the main complex; Prins luxurious mansion... and it really was luxurious, reeking of riches and privilege, an aspect that disgusted Mary and myself, since we knew exactly what had made Prins so wealthy.
A delicate shudder makes it way up my spine at the dreaded thought and the horrible memories that accompany it; after all, Edward and I had been in a similar situation aboard that Spanish Convoy two years ago and we had liberated a planation similar to this... although at much smaller a scale... and had stopped Prins from taken the Assassin's as slaves late last year. I had had more dealings with the human trade system than I would prefer.
"Can you see him?" Mary suddenly asks, craning her head around the thick marble column she was sheltered behind, trying to pick out our target in the omnipresent gloom broken only by the weak light of the braziers lining the stone hallways.
"I think I can..." I mutter, drawing a single knife and edging closer towards the suspected target, already rearranging my body into a position which would allow for hopefully a clean kill - I wasn't ready to watch someone die horribly slow and in pain like the first. "Yeah... I've got a cle-mph!" suddenly, two hands grab me from behind, covering my mouth before I can clearly convey to Mary out current situation and pulling me back into a firm, warm chest. Immediately, I struggle and try to break the firm grip the guy - his form was too bulky to not be a male - had around my waist, slamming the heel of my boot onto the bridge of his foot and driving my elbow into his ribcage, grinning against his hand when I hear an unmistakable grunt informing me that I had hit my target; unfortunately, the guy persists and tightens his grip on me, slowly turning my body towards his to the point where my face is slammed against his well-defined, clothed chest and I cannot move against his cage-like embrace.
"Tess!"
With a loud gasp, I jerk my head upwards and stare in complete shock at Edward's handsome, chiselled face, my own slowly colouring with embarrassment as I come to terms with the fact that it is Edward - Edward - who holds me in a now gentle embrace, that it is his fingers running through my loose ponytail and his familiar scent invading my nostrils each time I breathe in.
"What the Hell are you doing here?" Mary angrily curses under her breath, her face a mask of thunder as she studies the pair of us.
"You were taking too long," he muttered in response, tightening his grip on me - I find myself unresponsive to his touch and tightening embrace, my body still in complete shock at the sudden turn of events and his sudden appearance - resting his chin on the crown of my head as he calmly survey's Mary, his eyes twinkling with mild amusement, "I thought you might need some help... lass."
"Oh for god sakes-"
"You should be resting," I manage to finally gasp out, interrupting Mary without a second thought, blinking back the happy tears that blur Edward's familiar figure from my clear view, "you need to be resting."
"No," he corrects, placing a swift peck on my cheek before releasing me from his tender embrace, loading his pistol with quick, eerie precision and aiming it steadily from our hidden position at Prins' shadowy and practicality non-existent form, "I need to fulfil my end of the bargain... I shouldn't have forced Tess to follow this through without me."
"Edward-"
Before either of us can stop him, a loud bang echoes around the overgrown courtyard and Prins crumbles to the ground dead, whilst Edward's pistol smokes and the distinct scent of gunpowder overpowers my senses, making my eyes water. Coughing, I stumble into the courtyard and head towards Prins' shuddering corpse, grimacing when my boots splash into a large puddle of blood and the irony tang touches my tastebuds the moment I take a breath in; carefully, I bend over and touch Prins' throat, trying to find a pulse.
Unsurprisingly, I find none.
"Oh shit," Mary gasps, her entire form trembling from a mix of anger and complete disbelief, "oh shit! What have you done!"
"Your job," Edward mutters, limping towards me, a hand clutching at his side; clearly, the pig-headed man couldn't sit still despite the extent of his injuries. Honestly, it was a miracle the man had even managed to get this far without pulling a stitch - or five.
"Are you okay?" I whisper, running up to him and looping my arm around his waist, pulling his around my shoulders so I can support his weight to which he responds with a grateful smile.
"Peachy."
"Don't joke with me," I hiss, trying to keep my erratic heartbeat steady and my cheeks from burning to brightly with embarrassment and maybe with a hint of desire, because now that I was aware of my feelings for Edward, I was finding it very difficult to a) keep a straight face and b) not let the guilt overtake; the guilt of Edward being shot and the guilt of breaking my promise to Desmond... I had never been more disgusted with myself than at this moment - well, that wasn't entirely true. The award for most disgusted moments was a close tie with the realisation that I loved Edward and the time I had taken Shaun up on a dare and managed to drink my way through two bottles of Pinot and two shots of straight Russian Vodka... not my finest moment, I can tell you.
"How did you get past the guards? How the hell are you even standing? And don't bullshit me with this 'I'm fine' crap because you've looked better, I can tell you that right now!"
"Easy Tess... one question at a time," Edward murmurs with a tired, strained smile, "Okay... so I'm just a little sore but-"
"I hate to interrupt this 'beautiful' reunion, Kenway," Mary yells, instantly grabbing our attention with her sarcastic but panic-filled tone, our gazes following her own towards the balcony of Prins manor, which overlooked the unkept garden and allowed for one to easily view the 'picturesque' scene unfolding in the closed off, private grounds.
"I remember you," the man perched on the balcony calls out, a silver pistol glinting under the dim lamplight, aimed directly at Edward's head, "the Templar from Havana."
So... that's the Sage... I silently think, studying the unkept man watching us like a hawk from its roost, taking in the unkept, dirty-brown hair and the leathery tanned skin, the well-worn, apricot shirt which as torn down the front of the torso exposing his muscled chest which was covered with a thin layer of grime and... well... dirt. More importantly, I keep my eyes trained on the barrel of his sleek pistol, my arm tightening around Edward's race as I prepare to flee from the scene.
"Although," he continues with a lazily smirk, his gaze drifting slowly and suggestively over first Mary and then myself, "I don't remember that pretty lass... I don't remember either of them.
"You wouldn't, considering that we've never met," Mary retorts, simultaneously drawing her pistol with Edward and holding it, barrel facing the Sage with a determined set to her mouth and a coldness in her eyes, "until now, that is... but I have heard of you Roberts..."
"Have you now?" The man called Roberts smirks, raising a thick eyebrow and inclining his head towards Edward, "did the Templar tell you all about me, Miss Assassin?"
"I'm not Templar mate," Edward calls out, pulling himself away from my supportive embrace and raising his hands in a kind of mock surrender - not quite showing submission but all the same attempting to convey to the gun-wielding man that we meant now harm, "that was just a rouse! We're hear to save you from the slaver-"
"Save me?" Roberts interrupts with a contemptuous laugh, "oh, that's rich!"
"It's not a joke," I yell, frustrated with the lack of progress and irritated with my overwhelming instinct urge to take Edward and get the Hell away from this bloody compound before everything we had worked for, everything we had achieved, begins to go down the metaphorical drain.
"All I meant, pretty lass, is that I work for Mr. Prins," he pauses, studying the bloody corpse lying the in the ivy-covered gazebo, "well... worked for him, past tense, since you killed him and all that shit."
"A poor man to call master, don't you think?" Mary calls back, strolling towards the body - all the while with the pistol still aimed and loaded at Roberts, her gaze never wavering from his - and, upon reaching it, giving the side of the corpse a swift kick in the ribs, one so hard that I can hear the fragile bones shatter upon impact, "he was going to sell you out to the Templars, you know?"
"Well... you can't trust anyone, it seems... especially the three of you."
What happens next is all a blur.
Roberts shoots - not at Edward nor Mary nor even myself, but at the alarm bell hidden in the furthest corner of Prins' private garden, setting the alarm off with a somewhat soft, but all the same, earth-shattering clang - instantly alerting the guards prowling the compound to a disturbance and, unfortunately, our presence.
"We have to move!" Mary screams at the pair of us, firing off a shot at the retreating Roberts, her eyes wild with desperation as the bell continues to call for help despite the ringer already on the move.
"But-" Edward begins, turning towards her until my scream recaptures his attention.
"Edward!" I dive for cover as the first guard enters the clearing and fires off what was possibly a warning shot but regardless of whether or not the guy missed on purpose, I do not take being under fire without some degree of panic; and by some, I mean a lot.
"Fuck!" Edward growls, grabbing my hand and drawing one of his silver cutlasses after returning the pistol to its appropriate home, tearing out of that clearing after Mary as fast as he could go, all the while cursing under his breath at his misfortune.
Because, once again, the elusive Roberts slips right out of our fingertips.
Fuck indeed.