Anticipation

If we were honest, we'd both known, from the night with the man and the blacked-out windows and the pistol, what was coming; we'd known it would always come to this.

The final battle; the showdown; the end.

All we had left now was the anticipation – we knew what was coming, and they knew what was coming, and yet, like predator and prey, we were both waiting for the strike.

*

"No point worrying about being bugged now." Harry commented, as he lead Nikki back into the lab. "We're about to die anyway."

"We're about to die…" Nikki echoed. "I…" she swallowed back tears, and allowed Harry to pull her close to him, always wary of the volatile package in the carrier bag in his hand. He stroked her hair, soothingly, with one hand, and she could feel him nodding, and sobbing too, above her. They both knew, now, that death was inevitable. It was the end of the line.

There was no "unless": just the tiny chance that they might get there first – that they might take the first shot, and that they might strike, and win.

Even that, though, was small comfort.

*

Shuddering, Alana walked away, her scarf pulled closely around her face, and dark glasses obscuring her eyes. She knew, though, that she would be seen; there was no escaping. Something about her – her coat, her clothing, something – would surely give her away.

As she walked through the university, going out a different way than she came in, she noticed something, out of the corner of her eye, and she felt her heart sink; they were there. They were all around, but most specifically, they were there.

Sitting there, in the car, watching her, and waiting.

In the car, with the blacked out windows, and the bullet-proofing, and the official look, which meant that it was overlooked by everyone else.

She, though, knew different; it was them. It was always them…

She lowered her head, and pulled her bag closer to her, and walked purposefully on, trying not to let her face betray so much as a glance in their direction; so much as an iota of fear. She needed to make it through the next couple of days. She could die then; once they were safe, and once they had it all worked out. Then they could kill her. But only then.

*

Hours later, in the locker room, again, with the taps on, again, and the waiting; Harry, Nikki, and Leo, standing round, the shapeless black object in the carrier bag between them, hatching a plan;

"There has to be another way." Leo stated, for the seven hundredth time. "There has to."

"There isn't. How could there be?" Harry replied, leaning back against the wall, and allowing himself to slip to the floor, the very picture of dejection. "What other option is there?"

"None." Nikki said, mirroring Harry, and landing on the floor beside him, where he took her hand.

"There has to be. Just… say we all make it out alive tonight. Imagine that. What then?"

"We'd have to go into hiding, I suppose." Nikki replied; it was CSI speaking, not really Nikki, but it was nearer to a plan than they had come all afternoon.

"Where?" Leo asked, feeling like he was trying to coax a simple answer out of a small child.

Nikki glanced at Harry, and Harry glanced at Nikki, and both shrugged; "we'd have to pay in cash, wherever we went, and use false names – that kind of thing" Nikki answered, eventually. "But it wouldn't work for very long."

"How long do you think it could work for?"

"A few days, at most."

"Then we have a few extra days." Leo announced, triumphant. "That has to be something."

"What can we do in those few days, though?" Harry asked, determined to see the worst-case scenario.

"Find the proof that Alana needs, and get it to her. Stay safe. Stay alive." Leo said, flatly. This wasn't a game anymore; this was war. This was real.

"Ok." Nikki said, "so where do we go? If we do get out tonight?"

"We all go our separate ways, and meet somewhere we know is safe, somewhere that they'll never think of." Leo answered, glad that Nikki was willing to try to join in; glad that she was clinging to life as much as he was. They both had people to love, now, and neither of them was willing to let that go. He was surprised, though, that Harry didn't share the same fighting spirit. He supposed, perhaps, that it was the fact that Nikki was in danger that was worrying him, and he felt that he understood. Had it been Janet, and not Nikki… it didn't bare thinking about.

"Where?" Nikki asked, desperately, "where will they never think of?"

"What do they know about us? That's the first question. And how do they know it?" Leo replied.

"Everything." Harry moaned, "they know everything."

"They didn't know where you were last night." Leo pointed out, "they never worked out that you'd go to spend time with your mother. Why?"

"Because Harry's relationship with his mother is so… unconventional." Nikki replied. "They go for months without speaking, but when they do, everything's alright again."

"So?" Leo asked.

"So we go back there. We all go back there, and we all go back there separately." Nikki replied. "I think they've been watching us for a long time, I really do. But I think they've been watching us sporadically. And that has given us the edge."

"Or, rather, it's given Harry's Mum the edge."

"Well, yes." Nikki conceded, "because she's slipped under the radar."

"You really think my Mum's safe?" Harry asked, turning his head to face Nikki, concern etched across his face. Nikki knew how shaky Harry's relationship with his mother could be, and she hated to put it under any kind of strain, but it was the only option she could think of; they had nothing left. Harry's mother was the only safety net they could fall back into, except, possibly for South Africa… which was too far away to help them, and which they probably knew about anyway, if they'd done any kind of research into her life. Which they obviously had…

"Yes." She replied, eventually; no sense in worrying him any more than he was already worried; "and besides, she's the only card we have left to play."

*

The plan was… mediocre, at best. It would do, for now, and we all knew that. We knew that it was a last, desperate bit for escape; that it was a last, desperate hope.

"The only card we have left to play", I said. But, I wasn't quite right, was I?

There was another card to play. Death.

And it came all too soon.

A/N: DUN DUN DUUUUUN… ha ha :)

I'm getting to the really, really tense, must-be-written-cleverly-or-you'll-all-figure-it-out-too-soon bit now, so updates will be shorter and slower :)

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