Alison's POV
(bellamysgirl)

It didn't happen all at once. My mind was awake and working, but my eyes couldn't move. It took a minute for the rest of my body to catch up but, when they did, that's when it happened all at once. I jolted against what felt like some kind of chair and shot upright as my eyelids snapped open, and suddenly every part of me was acutely aware. The scenery change surprised me more than the company, sitting across from me.

I expected something to happen. That's why I bought a gun. But I expected something a little more public. Not drugged and taken to some kind of warehouse. I narrowed my eyes, squaring my shoulders. "So...this is how it's going to be? Kill me in some secluded place, then dump my body in the river?"

Wesley rested his forearms into the table, leaning in a bit. His expression was tired. "I'm not going to kill you, Alison," he exhaled. "I'm trying to protect you. You put yourself right in front of Fisk and made him angry. He knows you don't support him. Who's to say he won't pin the fundraiser on you?"

"If this is your idea of protecting me, you have even more issues than I thought," I laughed humorlessly, mainly from the nerves.

"I know our relationship is a bit strained, but I'm not a threat to you," he assured.

I scoffed. "What in the world is your idea of a threat? You tried to kill me! You said we weren't supposed to get as far as a baby and now you're acting like it was actually real for you. You're not as good of a liar as you think you are, Steven," I paused a little, making a point of it. "Or is it James? I don't even know your name. So don't expect me to trust you."

A pained look flashed across his face a second. But it was gone before I was even sure I'd seen it. My lungs felt like they'd been filled with cement and my throat was dry. It was a miracle I could act like I wasn't scared. Because I was. I was terrified. I didn't know if I even wanted to keep Chase ten years ago, but there is no way that I am ever leaving him because some psychotic nutjob fooled me twice.

Despite my words, he acted unphased. He sat back a bit in his chair, eyeing me a second, thinking. "James," his voice was quiet. But then he cleared his throat, speaking louder. "My name is James." I inhaled through my nose, clenching my jaw. "I don't care," I replied, dryly.

"Do you think this is a game?" he asked, as if just realizing something.

"That's all this has ever been to you," I spat, my eyebrows knitting together. "Just let me go home. I know people that can protect me a whole lot better than whatever you think this is."

His features settled. "Right...you have always had ties with vigilantes."

"Yes, they're great for stopping murderers," I smirked.

He smiled, closed-mouthed. "Cute," he pulled off his glasses, becoming serious for his next words. "Someday you'll know the whole story, and you'll understand why I did what I did all those years ago. And you'll know that everything I have ever done...was to protect you. Believe me or not—it doesn't change the truth." The genuine look, the realization of the bitter facts, seeing a resemblance of the man I knew—it was a deadly mixture.

My smirk faltered, fading as my eyes stung. No tears just a burning. Like they wished they could cry but couldn't muster up the strength needed to do it yet. There was a tug in my chest. Saying you know he's right. Whatever twisted way he thinks, he might actually have thought he was protecting me by killing me. Sparing me from whatever hell he thought was waiting for me. But why? Why was I a target? I shouldn't have been.

And yet I was. Without his glasses, he looked more like Steve. The version of the man in front of me that I knew was there. He looked older but the same. He leaned into the table again, clasping his hands in front of him. "Don't you see? I lied to keep you safe, to keep you away from this part of my life," he urged. A sinking feeling suddenly hit me. "Alison...I did it because I love you." And that was it.

I shook my head, trying to will it to not have been said. Don't do this. Don't make me still care about you. Too late. I dropped my head into my hands as a few rogue tears burned their way over the edges of my eyelids, forcing me to accept their existence. The real me, down inside, knew I cared. But the me you see every day—the one that's kept me alive, and the reason I'm still sane—wouldn't accept it.

"No," I looked up with a sniffle, pushing my stupid hair out of my face. Now I was angry. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to do all this horrible stuff to me and then excuse yourself so quickly. I don't care why you did it. It doesn't change the fact that you did it. And that will never change. I'm always going to be running. Do you understand that? I will never stop running." His eyes softened, saddened. It was the first bit of emotion that wasn't arrogant.

It wasn't covered in self-righteousness, and I'm-right-no-matter-what. It was deep settled realization. The damage was done years ago. But he's only just now figured out that I won't just come back to him because he still loves me. I won't ask how high when he tells me to jump. We can't be the people we were ten years ago. One of us became a criminal's evil henchmen. And the other became a single mother running for her life.

"I just needed you to know...it was always real for me," he resigned, sitting back again.

"If you love me," it almost pained me to say the words, keeping my chin up. "Then you will let me go home to our son, and you will never speak to me again."

He shook his head apologetically. "I can't do that. I've come too far not to finish what I started."

"You started a tragedy, James," I corrected. My heart was beginning to pound in my ears. There had to be a way out of this situation. I was trying to scan for every possible solution. No one was coming to rescue me this time. It was all up to me. I had to save myself now. "Fisk won't stop coming for you, and anyone I care about," he refused. "I have to make sure you're safe." I needed a distraction.

Start talking, Alison. "You don't need to protect me anymore," while I spoke, my left hand slowly crept along the side of my chair toward the back. "I've been on my own this whole time and only now you come forward to 'protect' me, but you're just making it worse. You're not fixing anything by keeping me here." Finally, my fingers tip toed to the waist of my jeans and to the belt at my lower back. The tips touched metal.

I fought not to make an outward reaction. Thankfully, he was stupid enough not to search me. Poor little Alison, can't protect herself. Think again, you narrow-minded- in a second, I pulled the gun free and held it up, aiming it at him across the table, holding it with both hands firmly. The look of surprise was no little amount of satisfaction. He truly didn't see anything like this coming. I fought the urge to say something demeaning and witty.

This was serious. I had to focus. He frowned. "When did you start using guns?"

"When you started becoming the villain of the story," I replied, my heart in my throat. My voice was shaking. So were my hands, but I prayed that he wouldn't notice. "Now...let. Me. Go."

"I'm afraid I can't do that." His expression made it seem like he thought I was joking. Or maybe he was making a prayer of his own, that I wouldn't have learned how to use this thing. I stood to gain better ground, maybe steady myself a bit more. The gun stayed aimed for his chest. I sidestepped to get away from the chair, and then took slow steps backward. "I'm leaving, and if you try to stop me-"

He stood. "You'll shoot me?" I stopped, but kept a defensive position. He started around the table with slow steps, holding his hands up. "It doesn't have to be like between us, Alison. I never wanted to hurt you. Never."

I inhaled. "Don't you dare come any closer."

He stopped, only maybe just over a yard in front of me now. "I'll prove it to you." He slowly reached into his suit jacket, and I held the gun tighter, slipping my finger into the trigger guard. "Stop," I ordered, firmly. "Don't move or I will shoot." He kept his free hand up in surrender, but he kept reaching. "I'm not going to hurt you," he promised. "It's okay. Put the gun down."

"Don't move," I reiterated, not budging. I could almost feel my blood start to pump faster, my heart beating against my rib cage as the adrenaline was truly taking over of my reflexes, preparing for war. I fought myself to keep still. My hands shook, almost violently so. "Stop, now."

"Alison-"

My ears were suddenly filled with a loud crack and a force caused my arms to lurch back, moving me back a step to catch myself. It didn't sink in what I did until a red circle to the left of the middle of his chest materialized and began slowly growing. The look of disbelief almost outweighed the pain of his expression. He looked down, felt the red spot, and then stared at the blood on his hand. I don't even think he knew he was moving until he stumbled back into the table.

It was a clumsy stumble, catching himself for a moment before the momentum dragged him down to the floor. Then it hit me. My eyes widened and I immediately dropped the gun. It clattered to the floor and I stepped over to where he'd collapsed. Blood covered a large portion of his white shirt now. A pang of something slammed me hard in the chest and it forced loose a wave of guilty, regret ridden tears.

I dropped to my knees, suddenly panicked and unsure. My whole body was trembling now. "A-Alison...the p-paper," he did his best to aim a finger straight ahead of his view, toward where he was standing, and I turned to look. Sure enough, there was a folded square of paper a few feet away. I moved over and reached across him. I grabbed the paper and quickly sat back down. "...read i-it...later. It's f-for Chase."

The guilty parts of me made me stuff the note away in my pocket and press my hands to the wound; try to stop it from bleeding. I knew it was no use deep down. But at the time it was the right thing to do. There was a thin line of blood from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were starting to look glossed over. "I need you to answer me, okay? Don't you dare lie to me," I hovered over him. "If you didn't want to kill me, why did you try?"

"F-" He coughed hoarsely, spitting blood on the floor. "-Fisk...he t-told me to kill you, or he would do it h-himself."

"Don't lie..." I shook my head, the words only making me feel even worse.

"It's the t-t-truth, Alison, I s-swear." He looked into my eyes, pleading for me to believe him. He was desperate now. Trying to get me to say I believe him. I didn't know if I did before, but I sure did now. A sickening came to my stomach and I wanted to retch as the weight of what I'd done finally hit me full in the chest. "Don't go," I could hardly see through the tears spilling out of my eyes. "Don't- don't leave me again, please."

"I'm s-so sorry...I n-never wanted to h-hurt you," he said, speaking as quickly as he could, anticipating the end coming. "T-tell Chase who I w-was...and that I l-loved him...p-please, Alison..." Before I could say anything, his body fell still and his head lolled to the side a bit, limp. His eyes remained open, glossed over and empty. I sobbed lightly once and covered my mouth with the back of my wrist. I'd wanted him gone for so long.

I'd even wanted him dead at times. But never like this. My chest physically hurt. The sobbing was so deep in my ribs that it was making it difficult to breathe. I was choking on the air trapped in my throat, and there was no way I could even attempt to see through the hazy fog of my own tears. I pulled my knees up to my chest and nestled my face atop my knee caps. I had to bite my wrist to keep from screaming.

My hands were coated in blood. Warm, sticky, crimson blood. James's blood. Blood that's literally and metaphorically on my hands. An unnecessary loss, because I was too stubborn to accept that maybe I was truly wrong about him. I couldn't look anywhere near his direction. I just couldn't stomach it. My mistake cost him his life. All when he'd altered his life just to protect mine. He was so sure Fisk was after me. I'd never seen him so paranoid.

Never—not now, not when we were dating. Now I'll never see anything on his face ever again. Somewhere inside me I did believe him. I did still love him all those years I was raising Chase alone. The little girl in me was hoping it was all a dream and my white knight would still sweep me off my feet. No one could save me from this. No one could ever make this right. Suddenly a thought hit me. Fisk.

If Fisk ever found out that I killed his right hand man...the thought nearly stopped my heart from beating. With myself out of the equation, now I have to focus on protecting my son. Fisk cannot find out I killed James. Not if I want to live to see Chase's eleventh birthday. I felt for my cell phone. My pocket was empty. I must have left it at the building. I had to act quickly.

I moved onto my knees and I scooted a few inches so that I was next to the body. The thought of this made me want to throw up again, but I swallowed it down, and reached into his suit jacket pocket. My fingers groped the fabric, digging around, until they hit something hard. A cell phone. I pulled it free from the pocket and flipped it over to see the screen. It lit up. Four missed calls from Fisk.

I wiped my right hand off on my jeans, smearing blood across the thigh, and opened the keypad. I typed in Dani's number and quickly held the phone to my ear. It rang twice before going to voicemail. My heart leapt. "Come on," I whined, desperate. I quickly redialed and held the phone back up to my ear. "Answer...please, answer the phone."

Finally, the ringing went all the way through. She answered on the fourth ring. "Hello?" Her voice was worn, tired, like she already knew who it was. Because she thought she did. My voice came out a little more panicked than I would've liked, but I kept it to a bare minimum of one sniffle. "Dani, it's Alison. Are you alone?" I asked, looking anywhere but at James's body.

"Um...no...?" she sounded baffled.

"Okay, I'll text you, hold on." I hung up the phone and reopened the key pad. I typed as fast as I could with the smallest amount of incorrect spellings as possible. I explained what happened and told her a rough estimate of where I might be, and then sent the message. I looked at Wesley. Guilt swelled up in my stomach. Hesitantly, I reached over and gently swiped his eyelids down before quickly pulling my hand back.

His body was still warm. I was on the verge of crying again when a ding from the phone caught my attention. I looked down. Dani replied. She was coming to find me. I was supposed to 'stay put' and wait for her to get here. There was no way my legs could carry me anywhere right now anyway.

Dani's POV
(Nightwing27th)

I opened the text and froze. She did what?! Oh my goodness, this is NOT good! I shoot up to a sitting position and swing my legs off the bed, tossing the covers. My fingers start going crazy typing a reply. "She okay?" I hear Matt's voice and nearly jumped. I was so focused on Alison I almost forgot where I was. But there's no way he can know about this. Talk about a moral compass…his would shatter if he knew. I don't even really know much yet, so this needs to stay a secret from him.

I sighed, simultaneously slowing my heart rate and steadying it. "Foggy cheating on her finally set in. I'm gonna head over there." It was the perfect cover, and partly true. This is about a guy, just not that one. I glanced at him and he nodded, trying to stay awake. "I'll have my phone with me if you need anything." I quickly changed into jeans and a plain t-shirt. At the last second I tossed on a ball cap, then left.

I trotted down the stairs as I pulled out my phone. I dialed Mary's number. She picked up on nearly the last ring. "Are you okay?" she asked.

I sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry for the early, or late, call. I need a favor."

"Okay…?"

"I need you to run a trace for me." I waited till she was ready and then rattled off the number as I exited Matt's building. I saw my reflection in a car window and realized I forgot to put my dark brown wig on. Dang it. Oh well. I don't have time to go back. I walked to my building to pick up my car, while sending Mary a list of things to gather for me. By the time I put my butt in the front seat, she had an address for me. She put the duffle bag full of supplies through the window of the passenger door and on the seat.

"Thanks, Mare." She simply nodded. She knows if I'm not telling her what's going on, that it's one of two things: I'm in trouble…or I'm back with S.H.I.E.L.D. I decide to let her decide. I'll explain later. I threw it in drive and I was gone. I got turned around once, but eventually made it there.

I killed the car and then opened the glove box. I know Alison said she was alone, but you can't be too careful. Apparently that's why she bought her gun. I grabbed the handle of my cross bow and pulled it out. The arms sprung forward and it was ready to be fired. I closed the glove box and then got out of the car. I walked inside the building, not too sure what I'd find.

I was in a long hallway. I walked to the end, on guard. The left side continued into a wall, so I turned right. In the middle of the room was a table and two chairs. Alison sat on the floor, her knees in her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Wesley's body a few feet away. I did a quick glance around the room and then lowered the crossbow to my side.

Alison looked up at me. She was rocking back and forth, a horror stricken look on her face like she'd done more than just see a ghost. Like she was one. I dropped my bag on the ground and tossed the crossbow on top of it. Tear marks stained her face, and I could see the blood on her hands. She had stopped crying, looking at me. We stared at each other a few seconds. Then she broke down. She bought the back of her wrist to her mouth and started balling.

"Oh, Alison…" I walked over to her and got down. She clung to me before I was half way to the ground. I hugged her back as her sobs racked her body. She felt like an earthquake. Of course, we all have at one point. After ten minutes I pulled back. "Alison." She looked up at me. "We need to get out of here before people come looking." She nodded quickly, trying to regain what was left of her composer...which, I think, is nothing. I helped her stand.

She looked over at Wesley and then quickly regretted it, turning away and cringing. "I'll take care of it."

"How?" she spat, probably angry with herself. "Why are you so calm? I…I killed someone. I just killed the father of my son, a man I still love, all because I-" she stopped and sucked in a breath. She let it out and I could hear it's shakiness. "I didn't believe him."

"I know, Alison. None of us wanted to believe him. What he was saying…it was a hard pill to swallow. Especially for you, after what he put you threw. Whether it was to protect you or not, what he did still stung. And you acted like any normal person. Like a girl who got her heart broken." My shoulders dropped. I turned and looked down at Wesley. There was only silence for a few seconds. "Why don't you wait in the car?"

"What are you going to do? How is he not going to find me? What if Fisk already knows it was me?"

"Calm down." I put my hands on her shoulders. "No one will EVER find out it was you. You hear me? No one will know. Not even me, I'll make myself forget." I tried to lighten the mood, but she didn't bite. I sighed and looked her in the eyes. "Do you trust me?" It's a simple question, yet whenever asked, causes the person to replay ever moment you've ever shared with them. And everything's under scrutiny. She thought for a second and then nodded. "Then trust me when I say 'I'll take care of it. No one will ever know'."

"Not even Matt?" she asked. I slightly hesitated. In my mind I was cursing myself. We agreed to tell each other everything. To be honest, no lies. And look what I'm doing. I shook my head, "Not even Matt." She nodded and tried to wipe her tears. I looked down at her blood stained pants. And the stain on her hands. "Before you head down to the car, why don't you clean up? I have extra clothes and disinfectant towelettes and stuff." She nodded.

I went to my bag and retrieved the stuff for her. "What all did you touch?"

She looked around. "Just the chair…maybe the table?"

"Okay." I gave her the clothes and a sack to put the bloody ones in. "I hope you know you won't get those back."

"I don't want them," she spoke bitterly as she walked into the next room to change. I sighed, then looked around. I stood for a second and took it all in, and then I got to work. I bleached everything in sight, the table, the chair. I put the gun in a plastic bag and set it aside. I picked apart Wesley's suit looking for anything that might lead back to Alison, mainly her hair.

A few minutes later, Alison dropped the bag of bad clothes and then left. I did a more thorough job than I think I ever have in all my life. If it weren't for the body, people might not even think Wesley was ever here. I stood, after collecting the bullet from his chest, and stepped back. I sighed. With a job this clean, Fisk might think it was a hit. Which might help us out. Or…

My mind started going crazy. Could be a dispute or meeting that went wrong. I went to my bag and pulled out a Swiss army knife. I knock over the chairs and scattered them. I moved some things out of their places, making it look like a tussle. Then I got down next to Wesley. I wish this whole thing would've had a different ending. I really do.

I put the knife on his chest and then drove it into the small bullet hole. I pushed it in as far as it could. I then stabbed him in two other places before leaving the blade in his heart. I added the finishing touches by punching him a few times, ruffling his hair, tearing his suit slightly, and twisting his leg in an unnatural position. I stood and walked to my bag.

I gathered my things and stuffed them in the bag. I peeled off my gloves and tossed them in there, too. I stood and slung the bag over my shoulder, turning to take it all in. Make sure I had covered everything. I nod, satisfied. Then my eyes land on his glasses on the table. I walk over to the table and grab them. I walked halfway to the door, and then set then on the ground. I crushed them beneath my boot, before turning and leaving.

No one will ever know Alison was here. I've made sure of that.