Title: A Dangerous Aficionado
Rating: This is an M rated fan-fic.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to so many people… but not me.
A/N: Well, I never expected so many reviews for the last chapter! I am so glad you guys like this so far. I slept so badly last night. You have no idea. I just kept wondering what way to write this chapter - because throughout all the other chapters I was improvising, I made a lot up as I went along. But I had plans for this one since last week. I hope it works for you…
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The Hardest Thing…
I cannot see anything. My head pounds in the worse headache I have ever had. When I turn my head, an electric jolt of pain shoots through my temples, and I wince. Through the incessant banging, I hear muffled sobs to my right and I prise my eyes open. The foggy light hits my retina, and a dizziness sweeps over me. Images blur before me, and I try to reach my hand out to steady myself. But my arms do not respond or, they try to, and for some reason, they cannot.
I taste the metallic flavour of blood on my tongue, and swallow hard. It's now that I remember what happened to me, and instead of being overcome with dizziness, I am overcome with panic. Pure, raw panic.
The muffled sobbing is louder now, more desperate. I force myself to focus, trying to feel around with my bound hands. I feel rough concrete behind me. My fingers touch upon the ties which bind me, coarse, rough rope.
As I open my eyes again, everything is marginally clearer. I see metal rafters above my head, corrugated iron roofing and all around me I see concrete walls. I mentally groan at the guy's lack of originality. A warehouse?
Ahead, where I catch a glimmer of striking light, I see a pile of crates marked Export Only that block the only exit. I'd never make it. Below me, I smell dirt. Dried earthy dirt that comes with boots treading the concrete day in and day out. This isn't just a warehouse. It's still in use. The bastard didn't even pick a derelict building to hold us hostage.
I am aware now, of nothing but the sobs and I shift around, the indistinct image of her is enough to make my chest tighten. She's hunched over, bound, like me. As my eyes adjust to the new scene, I see that her blouse has been torn away and she wears only a strapped under shirt. Her arms are looped over her knees and her wrists bleed from the rope tied around them.
He's hurt her. He bastard has hurt her!
I jerk, trashing wildly until a boot impacts my back and fall forward, my chin hitting the dirt. I taste more blood, but I ignore it, groaning loudly. He's gagged me, I cannot speak, I cannot reach out to her or reassure her that I won't let him hurt her. It would be a lie, anyway. I am powerless to do anything.
"Don't move unless I tell you to." I hear his voice far above my head, and he lifts his foot, pressing the sole to my head. "If you do, I'll crush your skull in, do you understand?" I nod, tense, not doubting for a second that he'd do it. I lift my eyes, and I see her looking at me. She's burrowed her head into her knees, but her eyes look directly at me. Her pupils are massive, afraid. I notice how her fingers tremble and her dirt caked cheeks are stained with tears. "Get up," I feel fingers curl around my collar and he yanks me from the floor. My arms instinctively reach out towards her. But she's too far away.
She leaps towards me, stumbling and falling when she does. I see the fear in her eyes and I want to kill the bastard who has done this to her. Her hands break her fall, and I notice that her legs are bound at her ankles. When she lifts her palms, I see the bloody grazes and I thrash my foot impacting the man's right shin. He kicks me, behind my knee and I stumble.
He releases my collar and pounds his toe into my ribs. My fingers curl into fists and my teeth bite against the cloth inside my mouth. I see his face now. I imagined he'd look like a psychopath, but he does not. Apart from his eyes, deranged and filled with so much hatred, be looks like an average guy. The normality of his features disturbs me. He could have passed me a hundred times in the past month and I wouldn't have made the leap that he was the person watching her.
He grabs my hair and pulls my head back until I think my neck might snap. "You thought you could touch her…" he whispers, his nails digging into my scalp. "She's not yours…" I can hear her weeping and my heart constricts. He pulls off my gag, tossing it aside. His eyes burn with a fierceness. I know he'd kill me. "You think you love her…" He kicks me a final time, moving off towards her. I see her recoil, trying to shift away from him. He reaches for her, taking her bound wrists into his hands and pulling her off the floor. When he does, she lifts her foot and kicks the top of his thigh. He stumbles backward, and she swings her arms back, as though she's holding a golf-club, and brings her fisted hands down on his nose. I near a crack, and see the blood.
He reacts, lightening fast, pulling his hand back and bringing it down on her cheek. The slap resounds around throughout the warehouse and I kick my legs again, wishing I wasn't so far away. He fucking slapped her. He touched her. I feel an anger that is unparalleled. "You fucking bastard!" I cry out, finding my voice now that I no longer wear a gag.
He touches his nose with his fingers, examining the wet blood. "You're feisty," he says, pushing her shoulders until she stumbles backwards. I see her back hit the wall and she cries out, the sound lost amidst the gag she wears. "I just hope you're as feisty when I'm fucking you," the words make my stomach churn. "You think he loves you…" he spits, crouching beside her. His blood drips unto her undershirt and I see her disgust. He reaches out, bringing his fingers inches away from her breast. I almost heave. "I'm going to get rid of him, and then I'll have you."
He stands, moving towards me. "Get up," he says, and I don't dare disobey. I see the only weapon around, and it's tucked into his waistband. He ushers me along the warehouse, to the operations room at the bottom, near the doorway. When he shoves me into the little room, I expect him to leave. But he doesn't. He closes the doors and sits on the bench, watching me with contempt I have never seen before.
"I can't believe she'd fall for an arrogant jerk like you," he says at last. I shuffle against a row of filing cabinets. "To think she actually believes you love her…" I half nod. If he leaves me alone in here, he'll most certainly rape her. I need to do something, now. Anything. I have to be in the warehouse again.
"I know," I say, shaking my head. "I can't believe it either. All I wanted was sex, but she's a typical woman… always thinking there is more to it." I feel blood trickle from the place where he hit me with the lamp. Maintaining an even voice is extraordinarily difficult. "I don't even know why I am here." He blinks slowly.
"You don't love her?" He asks, his tone biting, accusing. I shake my head.
"No way." My stomach knots at my lie. When he stands to open the door, I know he's going to lock me in here. "Can I tell her?" I imagine that what I am doing is so obvious, but his expression remains impassive, and eventually, he shrugs.
"You want to crush her spirit?" He asks, the door half open, now.
"I was brought up a good Catholic. I wouldn't want to maintain a lie." After a few seconds, he reaches out, tugging on my collar again. I feel my entire body ache, and my throat tightens. When he shoves me forward, I almost lose my balance. I waddle to where she sits, her watery eyes show surprise when she sees me standing before her. I know she imagined the worst.
The few minutes he gives me to tell her this lie are all I have to so something.
"Bones…" I say, barely looking at her. "I'm sorry…" her eyes bore into me, side and confused. I crouch, knowing that he stands behind me, towering over us, smug and satisfied at the thought of me breaking her heart. "I shouldn't be here," I say gritting my teeth. I look angry, as though I am infuriated by her. I'm not. I hate the words that are coming from my mouth.
"This guy is going to kill me, for something that's not even true." Brennan's nostrils flare and I see her eyes are moist. "He thinks I love you," I say, shaking my head slowly. "I don't. I don't want this shit, anymore, Bones."
It breaks my heart, watching how tears spill over her eyelids unto her cheeks. She looks betrayed. She opened her heart, her soul, to me and I kneel before her, shattering her trust into a pieces. I drop my eyes to the floor, willing myself to focus. I need to get us out of here. "He's welcome to you," I say, standing. I stumble backwards a little, and exhale.
Despite there being no truth in my words, pretending not to love this woman is the hardest thing I have ever had to do.
The bastard behind me grabs my collar, and begins to drag me away. I lunge forward, my legs falling away from beneath me. I hook my bound feet behind his legs, and he stumbles, releasing my collar. I twist on my descent, watching as his body comes down on top of me. I move my bounds hands, my fingers fumbling over the gun in his waistband.
He reacts at once, trying to pull away, his fingers closing around my throat.
I have the gun, my gun, in my hands and the barrel is pressed to his torso. He leaps away, trying to reach for it. My finger barely closes around the trigger, but the moment I feel the metal against my skin, I pull, and an explosion rings and echoes throughout the warehouse.
He falls back, a shock glazing the insanity I see within his eyes. His mouth opens and closes as though he wants to say something. I get to my feet, standing above him and I think of all the things he's done. To her. I think of the letter, of the CD, of the photographs, the rose petals, I think of him shooting me, and trying to touch her and how I was forced to lie to her, and how I had to watch her heart break.
And I do something that is against protocol. Against the law.
I shoot him again.
Until he stops breathing.
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It's the hardest thing I'll ever have to do,
To look you in the eye
And tell you I don't love you,
It's the hardest thing I'll ever have to lie.
To show no emotion,
When you start to cry…
The Hardest Thing
This is the last full chapter of this story. Next up, is the epilogue… and then it's all over. I am so sad.