Title; Slender Fingers
Warnings; Language, dark themes, OOC, OCs, suicide attempts, abuse, death,
in parts a wet, topless Brennan... Yummy.....
Disclaimer; Sadly, I own nothing. I just like to play with Mutant X, and
promise to return them in good condition when I'm done...
Key; "Blah"-talking, 'Blah'-thinking, ~ ~-change of scene, * *-shift
between Brennan's present and his past.
* * * * * * * *
A/N : I would like to point out right here and now. Any and all romance anyone might see between Brennan and ANY of my OCs WHATSOEVER is all in your mind. It is Bren/Shal ALL THE WAY BABY!!!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Shal was going to kill him.
Squish, squish, squish.
Unless she hadn't noticed he was gone yet.
Squish, squish, squish.
And if he managed to get to his room and change before anyone saw him.
Squish, squish, squish.
And then managed to come back and clean up this water he was dripping before she noticed THAT.
Squish, squish, squish.
...
Shal was SO going to kill him.
Brennan squished his way to his room. Miraculously he didn't see anyone. Was it possible he had actually gotten away with this?! YES! He very carefully slipped into his room and slid the door shut silently. He smothered a triumphant grin and peeled off his sopping shirt. Then he turned and got very, very pale.
Because he was facing a very, very pissed Shal.
"Ah...hehe...hi?"
"I'm going to kill you!" Brennan cringed, the words reminding him of his father. He stood there and tried to withstand Shal's rant.
"...Gone for hours..."
Had it been that long?
"...No NOTE..."
Like he would've taken the time to write a note when the door to freedom was wide open and practically screaming his name.
"...I was worried SICK..."
She had been? His heart lifted a little. She cared about him?
"...Come home, SOAKING wet! I don't know HOW you managed to do that..."
He wondered about that a little too, actually...
"... I can't believe you snuck out when you were still sick! Didn't even tell anyone where you were going!"
Well, of COURSE not! They would have stopped him!
"And you are going back to bed, RIGHT NOW, and not moving an INCH until I say so, GOT THAT? Not ADAM'S say-so, or JESSE'S, or EMMA'S, but MINE!" She jabbed a finger against his chest.
Brennan managed to squeak out a feeble, "Yes, ma'am." He tried not to think about the fact that he was standing next to Shal, shirtless. In his bedroom. With the bed, right there. That kind of made it harder to think.
Suddenly, she didn't look as if she was about to rip off his head and play soccer with it. As a matter of fact, she suddenly looked concerned. "Brennan, where did you get this?"
Brennan blinked down to where she was fingering an old scar. One of his more obvious ones, from a knife wound his father had given him. "Or this?" This one was smaller, and less noticeable. Suddenly, she was finding all his old scars, right down to the little circular burn scars from his father's cigarettes, circling all around his waist at even intervals, like a belt, and the welts on his back from the whippings he had received. "Brennan?" she questioned again. "Who did this to you? Tell me." Her voice was full of suppressed rage.
He caught her wrist as it was tracing the knife wound again. He was breathing hard, flustered. Shal's hands, on him, touching him in feathery light caresses...it was driving him wild. "Shal," he said in a rather strangled voice, "it was a long time ago. Forget it. I have."
She blinked at him, a sudden sly smile crossing her features. "Why, Brennan Mulwray, I do believe I ordered you to bed." She leaned forward and gently kissed the knife wound. Brennan let out a choking sound. She moved down to the burns on his waist.
Liquid fire ran through his veins as Shalimar kissed, licked and sucked gently at his scars. Kiss it and make it all better. "Shalimar, Shalimar..." he murmured over and over, like his own personal mantra.
"Shal, I..." he gasped. He let out a groan as she sucked on a scar near his neck.
Suddenly, much to Brennan's dismay, she stopped. "Brennan, what are these?"
Taking a shuddering breath, he looked where her gaze was pointed. It was once again on scars. Only these scars were not on his chest or his back, nor were they inflicted by his father. These scars were fresher, but still old. They ran across his wrists. The mood broken, he pulled away. He turned away and grabbed a shirt out of his dresser and pulled it on roughly.
Shalimar wasn't about to let it drop, however. "Brennan, answer me, dammit, what did you do?"
"I don't want to talk about it," he muttered.
"Well, we are damn well GOING to talk about it whether you want to or not, Brennan Mulwray!" she snapped.
"It was a long time ago, ok? I was hurting, I wanted it to end! All right? It didn't work."
He stopped after his outburst and he put his hands on his hips and glared at the floor, refusing to look at her. Her eyes softened slightly. "Brennan," she breathed, "tell me. Please. I want to know. I want to know what's hurting you."
Brennan just shook his head. "I don't think you would understand Shal. I don't think that anyone could." His voice shook with emotion.
Shalimar took his hand and pulled him onto the bed, looking seriously into his eyes. "Why don't you try me and find out?"
* * * * * * * *
Cameron, Jack, Tony, Karlie and Brennan arrived at the bridge marking the center of the park to find their employer already there and waiting, complete with two huge bodyguards. The guy was tall, with slicked back hair, in a designer suit and shoes. He could almost pass for a stand-up business man.
Almost.
"Do you have it?" he asked coolly.
"Do you?" snapped Karlie.
The man shot a look to one of his bodyguards and gave a slight nod. The bodyguard lifted a case and snapped it open, revealing their payment, before snapping it shut.
Satisfied, Karlie lifted her own, similar, case and opened it, revealing what the five of them had gone through so much to get; a collection of some of the largest and most valuable stones in the world. A look at the second bodyguard caused the beefy man to come over and take the case from her. He immediately started examining the stones to guarantee their authenticity.
The five thieves exchanged impatient looks. It was all Brennan could do to keep himself from just grabbing the money and leaving. This guy seriously made his skin crawl. Finally the second bodyguard snapped the case shut and gave a nod to his boss.
A smirk crossed his face, making him look even slimier. "Good. You didn't try to screw me over. How intelligent of you."
Duh. They weren't THAT stupid. Insufferable bastard.
The man's smirk widened. "As your reward, I'll kill you quickly." And with that, the bodyguards shoved guns practically in the faces of the five surprised thieves. "No hard feelings, eh? It's just business after all. You understand."
No. Brennan didn't. He didn't understand why this guy and his goons had guns pointed at his friends. At HIM...And Tony. His hands twitched involuntarily, imagining frying this guy into oblivion.
As a reward, he got a glance and a smooth, "You'll be dead before you could draw it, Mr. Mulwray."
Huh? Oh, yeah, the gun. Stupid thing...
In that moment, in the fraction of a second that the three of them were focused on Brennan, Jack and Cameron lunged.
And the gun went off.
And someone screamed.
And Karlie fell.
The world stopped. Everything just...stopped. Time stopped ticking. The earth stopped spinning. Brennan stopped breathing.
One heart beat.
Breathe in.
Another beat.
Breathe out.
Why did he need to remind himself how to breathe? Breathing was a very simple thing. He breathed every second, of every minute, of everyday. Everyone did. Except Karlie. Karlie wasn't breathing anymore.
Breathe in.
He was so cold. Like he'd been dumped in ice water. 'Stand up, Karlie. Right now. Joke's over. This isn't funny anymore.'
This had never been funny.
Breathe out.
She was sleeping. It was night. It was late. She must be tired.
Why weren't her eyes closed?
'Close your eyes Karlie. Let me believe you're sleeping.'
He didn't see when Jack and Cameron and Tony overpowered the bodyguards and sent the guns flying. He didn't see the three men, including Karlie's murderer, escape to their car or hear when they peeled away. He didn't hear Jack's soft curse or Cameron's sobs.
All he heard was the gunshot and the scream.
All he saw was Karlie fall.
And the blood.
Karlie was a baby about blood. Couldn't even look at it without freaking out. Why wasn't she freaking out?
There was so much blood...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Brennan was sitting dully on his kitchen floor, staring at the door like it would make Karlie come through it. The first thing she'd do would be yelling at him for not eating. When WAS the last time he'd eaten anything? He didn't remember. Yesterday? Maybe.
God, was he tired.
The phone rang. He didn't even blink. Let the machine get it.
There was a click as the machine started.
// "Hey, is this on?"// Karlie's voice came from the recording and his heart clenched. His eyes burned. // "I'm probably not doing it right...//
He. Would. Not. Cry.
Over the recording he heard his own voice.
// "Stop messing with my phone.
"Whatever. Anyway, this is HIS apartment. Say something Brenny!"
"..."
A long suffering sigh. "If you want to leave a message for Mr. Articulate here, do so...NOW!"//
*BEEP*
"Mulwray? Pick up." Cameron. Who else called him Mulwray? "Mulwray, I KNOW you're there, pick up the phone."
Not. Likely.
"Look, Mulwray, we were worried when you didn't come to Ripamshan's funeral. Please pick up."
Funeral. Burial. Karlie was underground right now. Oh, God.
It was suddenly a lot harder to keep the tears in.
He suddenly felt very nauseous. He scrambled to the sink, where he stood, dry-heaving, there being nothing in his stomach to throw up. He filled a glass of water, figuring it was better to throw up something than nothing, but surprisingly, it stayed down. He pressed the cool glass against his forehead and closed his eyes.
The God damned phone was ringing again.
// "Hey, is this on? I'm probably not doing it right..." //
God, he missed her. He listened as the rest of the message played and then the caller identified himself.
Cameron.
Again.
Knowing the man wouldn't give up, he walked over and picked up the phone.
"Alright, I'm here, shut up already," he growled. He looked around his kitchen for something to clean, but it was sparkling.
"Mulwray? You picked up!"
As a matter of fact, he had taken the dishes out of the cabinet and washed them all, just for something to do. And he found himself going around making messes for the sole purpose of cleaning them up.
God, he was so messed up.
"Yes, I picked up. You're a persistent little bugger, I'll give you that," he said tiredly. He was so tired. He just wanted to lie down and sleep forever, to just never wake up.
"Mulwray, I know you. And I know that you don't bother taking care of yourself unless Ripamshan made you. I'm worried about you. When was the last time you ate?"
Brennan bit back the urge to collapse into hysterical giggles. He just sounded so much like Karlie! Who knew Cameron was the mother hen type?
He paused before answering, "Uh... Not sure. Awhile ago?" Before the disapproval that Brennan just KNEW was coming, he interrupted, "I'll eat, ok? I'll make something right now. Satisfied?"
"Not really. But it'll have to do. Take care of yourself, Mulwray."
"I'll try. Thanks Cameron. Later."
"I mean it, Mulwray. Ciao."
Brennan hung up. Then he unplugged the phone and sat down on the kitchen floor again.
Just so tired...
He considered dragging himself out for a pick-me-up, but didn't think it was really worth the effort. Nothing seemed worth the effort anymore. He kept seeing it. He saw the goon's finger twitch on the trigger. He'd seen it.
And there had been no time to charge up.
He might have been able to pull his gun. But it would have been useless. Bullet less.
And there it was. He'd killed Karlie. It should have been him. Karlie didn't deserve to die; she was so happy, so full of life. She didn't deserve it.
Life sucked.
And with the immense profoundness of that thought, Brennan came to a decision. This life had bruised and battered him. It had, shoved, hit and kicked him around. Sent him a savior and then ripped his heart out and stomped on it. This life didn't want him?
Well, screw that!
Screw this life!
He didn't want it either!
He would end it.
He would end it all.
And with that, he was out the door.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He had no big, elaborate plan. He went to the bridge where Karlie had been murdered. There was no dramatic purpose for it. He had started walking and somehow ended up here, and figured this was as good of a place as any. Fitting even. He took out the knife Jay had given him. He had only used it a few times, but had kept it razor sharp and treasured it.
He sliced his wrists and slumped to the ground and watched the life flow out of him.
It didn't even hurt anymore.
He closed his eyes and knew no more.
Brennan wasn't conscious when a jogger found him and called 911.
* * * * * *
"Shal."
"..."
"Shaaaaaal."
"..."
"Shalimar." Pause. "You mad at me?"
"YES!"
"I just can't tell you, Shal. I can't go through that again. It very nearly destroyed me the first time. A second just might kill me."
She looked at him.
"It was a long time ago?"
"Yes. Ten years."
"And you haven't tried since?"
"Right."
"Not even a THOUGHT of it."
"Not a single one."
She took a deep breath. "All right then. I guess the reason isn't important then. As long as you promise, PROMISE me, Brennan, that you will NEVER do anything like that again. Understand me?" It was not a question.
"Yeah, I got it." His brown eyes flickered amusedly.
"Good." She shifted a bit uncomfortably. "Because I care about you. You know that, right?"
His eyes softened. "I didn't actually. But thanks for telling me."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
After Karlie's death and his failed suicide, Brennan closed off. He started to drink more, though not nearly enough to be considered an alcoholic, as his father still haunted his mind. He had drowned himself in cheap women and even cheaper whiskey. Cameron and Jack actually stood by him, and more then once dragged him out of the sleazy bars or nightclubs he was drunk in, or let him crash on their couch. Eventually, he got better and went back to his job as a career criminal.
Only this time he kept his gun loaded.
His life at Sanctuary was so much better.
Shal slipped her hand into his. Ah. Yet another aspect of his hands he liked. Shalimar's slender fingers fit perfectly into his own. She looked at him, heart in her eyes, before slipping out of his room, her grip sliding out of his. He watched as she slid the door shut and say down on the bed. "I think...I think that I could love you, Shalimar." His words hung in the air.
Shalimar was leaning against his door, and with her advanced hearing, [1] she heard the words meant for her, and a smile flitted across her features. "I think that I could love you too, Brennan," she whispered, and walked away, with a small smile still on her face.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When Brennan came up on the girl, she wasn't painting. She had a painting with her, covered by a drop cloth. She looked like she was waiting for him, and a knowing smile was on her face. Her hair was down today, flowing down to her shoulders.
"You've found it."
"It?"
"Your one true passion of course. You've found it. I can tell."
A smile crossed his face as he thought of a certain blonde-haired, brown- eyed feral who had been occupying his every thought recently.
"Yeah. Yeah, I might have, actually."
Her knowing smile got wider. "Does she know yet?"
He erupted into laughter. "Is it THAT obvious it's a her? Or do you just know everything?" he asked, vastly amused.
"A bit of both," she responded with a wink. Her smile saddened a bit. "I won't be seeing you anymore."
"Why not?" he asked, confused.
"I have to go home now."
"Home?"
"You should go back to her now. Tell her. Be happy." She walked over, gave him a peck on the cheek and put the painting in his hands and closed his slender fingers around it. "Good luck, Brennan."
And with that she turned and walked away. She was gone before he even realized what she had said, or wonder about how she knew his name. He looked down at the painting, and removed the drop-cloth. It was the park scene he had first seen her painting.
And there, in the bottom corner was the signature. Just the first name.
Averlie.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
[1] I do not claim to know everything about new mutant ferals. I'm not sure whether or not ferals have advanced hearing. And since Shal has mutated, I don't know if only SHE among ferals has advanced hearing or even IF she has it... And I'll shut up now. Just know that this is fanfiction and I say that Shalimar has advanced hearing, so she DOES!!! Ok??
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Readers: OMG! You killed Karlie!
Kitta Cat: ::blinks:: Woah. South Park flash back...
Rockergurl: ::wails:: I KNOW! I'm SORRY! It just HAPPENED! I didn't MEAN to!
Kitta Cat: Oh, and Rockergurl, obviously, doesn't own South Park either.
REVIEW RESPONSES:
ALIASJANEDOE: All the men in my family have the LONGEST lashes in history. Luckily, so do the women. ::bats her LOOOONG lashes::
EYECANDY: O__O hehe, don't hurt me. Here's the last chapter. Just the epilogue to go.
COMPUTER GUY: OMFL!! THE Computer Guy has reviewed my story. TWICE!! Are you feeling ok? You, like, never REVIEW stories. Hell, you, don't READ stories. Ok, I'm exaggerating. Slightly.
PIANO-PLAYER: I like to think that it's our creative genius that makes a story great mi otra mitad. Notice the OUR, por favor. You have it too. You have everything I do. Duh. GOOD CHARLOTTE RULES!!
QUEST: Well, if this part had you laughing, I'm giving up on you. I needed a tissue or two writing it. But that's just ME. I cry at... EVERYTHING.\
* * * * * * * *
A/N : I would like to point out right here and now. Any and all romance anyone might see between Brennan and ANY of my OCs WHATSOEVER is all in your mind. It is Bren/Shal ALL THE WAY BABY!!!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Shal was going to kill him.
Squish, squish, squish.
Unless she hadn't noticed he was gone yet.
Squish, squish, squish.
And if he managed to get to his room and change before anyone saw him.
Squish, squish, squish.
And then managed to come back and clean up this water he was dripping before she noticed THAT.
Squish, squish, squish.
...
Shal was SO going to kill him.
Brennan squished his way to his room. Miraculously he didn't see anyone. Was it possible he had actually gotten away with this?! YES! He very carefully slipped into his room and slid the door shut silently. He smothered a triumphant grin and peeled off his sopping shirt. Then he turned and got very, very pale.
Because he was facing a very, very pissed Shal.
"Ah...hehe...hi?"
"I'm going to kill you!" Brennan cringed, the words reminding him of his father. He stood there and tried to withstand Shal's rant.
"...Gone for hours..."
Had it been that long?
"...No NOTE..."
Like he would've taken the time to write a note when the door to freedom was wide open and practically screaming his name.
"...I was worried SICK..."
She had been? His heart lifted a little. She cared about him?
"...Come home, SOAKING wet! I don't know HOW you managed to do that..."
He wondered about that a little too, actually...
"... I can't believe you snuck out when you were still sick! Didn't even tell anyone where you were going!"
Well, of COURSE not! They would have stopped him!
"And you are going back to bed, RIGHT NOW, and not moving an INCH until I say so, GOT THAT? Not ADAM'S say-so, or JESSE'S, or EMMA'S, but MINE!" She jabbed a finger against his chest.
Brennan managed to squeak out a feeble, "Yes, ma'am." He tried not to think about the fact that he was standing next to Shal, shirtless. In his bedroom. With the bed, right there. That kind of made it harder to think.
Suddenly, she didn't look as if she was about to rip off his head and play soccer with it. As a matter of fact, she suddenly looked concerned. "Brennan, where did you get this?"
Brennan blinked down to where she was fingering an old scar. One of his more obvious ones, from a knife wound his father had given him. "Or this?" This one was smaller, and less noticeable. Suddenly, she was finding all his old scars, right down to the little circular burn scars from his father's cigarettes, circling all around his waist at even intervals, like a belt, and the welts on his back from the whippings he had received. "Brennan?" she questioned again. "Who did this to you? Tell me." Her voice was full of suppressed rage.
He caught her wrist as it was tracing the knife wound again. He was breathing hard, flustered. Shal's hands, on him, touching him in feathery light caresses...it was driving him wild. "Shal," he said in a rather strangled voice, "it was a long time ago. Forget it. I have."
She blinked at him, a sudden sly smile crossing her features. "Why, Brennan Mulwray, I do believe I ordered you to bed." She leaned forward and gently kissed the knife wound. Brennan let out a choking sound. She moved down to the burns on his waist.
Liquid fire ran through his veins as Shalimar kissed, licked and sucked gently at his scars. Kiss it and make it all better. "Shalimar, Shalimar..." he murmured over and over, like his own personal mantra.
"Shal, I..." he gasped. He let out a groan as she sucked on a scar near his neck.
Suddenly, much to Brennan's dismay, she stopped. "Brennan, what are these?"
Taking a shuddering breath, he looked where her gaze was pointed. It was once again on scars. Only these scars were not on his chest or his back, nor were they inflicted by his father. These scars were fresher, but still old. They ran across his wrists. The mood broken, he pulled away. He turned away and grabbed a shirt out of his dresser and pulled it on roughly.
Shalimar wasn't about to let it drop, however. "Brennan, answer me, dammit, what did you do?"
"I don't want to talk about it," he muttered.
"Well, we are damn well GOING to talk about it whether you want to or not, Brennan Mulwray!" she snapped.
"It was a long time ago, ok? I was hurting, I wanted it to end! All right? It didn't work."
He stopped after his outburst and he put his hands on his hips and glared at the floor, refusing to look at her. Her eyes softened slightly. "Brennan," she breathed, "tell me. Please. I want to know. I want to know what's hurting you."
Brennan just shook his head. "I don't think you would understand Shal. I don't think that anyone could." His voice shook with emotion.
Shalimar took his hand and pulled him onto the bed, looking seriously into his eyes. "Why don't you try me and find out?"
* * * * * * * *
Cameron, Jack, Tony, Karlie and Brennan arrived at the bridge marking the center of the park to find their employer already there and waiting, complete with two huge bodyguards. The guy was tall, with slicked back hair, in a designer suit and shoes. He could almost pass for a stand-up business man.
Almost.
"Do you have it?" he asked coolly.
"Do you?" snapped Karlie.
The man shot a look to one of his bodyguards and gave a slight nod. The bodyguard lifted a case and snapped it open, revealing their payment, before snapping it shut.
Satisfied, Karlie lifted her own, similar, case and opened it, revealing what the five of them had gone through so much to get; a collection of some of the largest and most valuable stones in the world. A look at the second bodyguard caused the beefy man to come over and take the case from her. He immediately started examining the stones to guarantee their authenticity.
The five thieves exchanged impatient looks. It was all Brennan could do to keep himself from just grabbing the money and leaving. This guy seriously made his skin crawl. Finally the second bodyguard snapped the case shut and gave a nod to his boss.
A smirk crossed his face, making him look even slimier. "Good. You didn't try to screw me over. How intelligent of you."
Duh. They weren't THAT stupid. Insufferable bastard.
The man's smirk widened. "As your reward, I'll kill you quickly." And with that, the bodyguards shoved guns practically in the faces of the five surprised thieves. "No hard feelings, eh? It's just business after all. You understand."
No. Brennan didn't. He didn't understand why this guy and his goons had guns pointed at his friends. At HIM...And Tony. His hands twitched involuntarily, imagining frying this guy into oblivion.
As a reward, he got a glance and a smooth, "You'll be dead before you could draw it, Mr. Mulwray."
Huh? Oh, yeah, the gun. Stupid thing...
In that moment, in the fraction of a second that the three of them were focused on Brennan, Jack and Cameron lunged.
And the gun went off.
And someone screamed.
And Karlie fell.
The world stopped. Everything just...stopped. Time stopped ticking. The earth stopped spinning. Brennan stopped breathing.
One heart beat.
Breathe in.
Another beat.
Breathe out.
Why did he need to remind himself how to breathe? Breathing was a very simple thing. He breathed every second, of every minute, of everyday. Everyone did. Except Karlie. Karlie wasn't breathing anymore.
Breathe in.
He was so cold. Like he'd been dumped in ice water. 'Stand up, Karlie. Right now. Joke's over. This isn't funny anymore.'
This had never been funny.
Breathe out.
She was sleeping. It was night. It was late. She must be tired.
Why weren't her eyes closed?
'Close your eyes Karlie. Let me believe you're sleeping.'
He didn't see when Jack and Cameron and Tony overpowered the bodyguards and sent the guns flying. He didn't see the three men, including Karlie's murderer, escape to their car or hear when they peeled away. He didn't hear Jack's soft curse or Cameron's sobs.
All he heard was the gunshot and the scream.
All he saw was Karlie fall.
And the blood.
Karlie was a baby about blood. Couldn't even look at it without freaking out. Why wasn't she freaking out?
There was so much blood...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Brennan was sitting dully on his kitchen floor, staring at the door like it would make Karlie come through it. The first thing she'd do would be yelling at him for not eating. When WAS the last time he'd eaten anything? He didn't remember. Yesterday? Maybe.
God, was he tired.
The phone rang. He didn't even blink. Let the machine get it.
There was a click as the machine started.
// "Hey, is this on?"// Karlie's voice came from the recording and his heart clenched. His eyes burned. // "I'm probably not doing it right...//
He. Would. Not. Cry.
Over the recording he heard his own voice.
// "Stop messing with my phone.
"Whatever. Anyway, this is HIS apartment. Say something Brenny!"
"..."
A long suffering sigh. "If you want to leave a message for Mr. Articulate here, do so...NOW!"//
*BEEP*
"Mulwray? Pick up." Cameron. Who else called him Mulwray? "Mulwray, I KNOW you're there, pick up the phone."
Not. Likely.
"Look, Mulwray, we were worried when you didn't come to Ripamshan's funeral. Please pick up."
Funeral. Burial. Karlie was underground right now. Oh, God.
It was suddenly a lot harder to keep the tears in.
He suddenly felt very nauseous. He scrambled to the sink, where he stood, dry-heaving, there being nothing in his stomach to throw up. He filled a glass of water, figuring it was better to throw up something than nothing, but surprisingly, it stayed down. He pressed the cool glass against his forehead and closed his eyes.
The God damned phone was ringing again.
// "Hey, is this on? I'm probably not doing it right..." //
God, he missed her. He listened as the rest of the message played and then the caller identified himself.
Cameron.
Again.
Knowing the man wouldn't give up, he walked over and picked up the phone.
"Alright, I'm here, shut up already," he growled. He looked around his kitchen for something to clean, but it was sparkling.
"Mulwray? You picked up!"
As a matter of fact, he had taken the dishes out of the cabinet and washed them all, just for something to do. And he found himself going around making messes for the sole purpose of cleaning them up.
God, he was so messed up.
"Yes, I picked up. You're a persistent little bugger, I'll give you that," he said tiredly. He was so tired. He just wanted to lie down and sleep forever, to just never wake up.
"Mulwray, I know you. And I know that you don't bother taking care of yourself unless Ripamshan made you. I'm worried about you. When was the last time you ate?"
Brennan bit back the urge to collapse into hysterical giggles. He just sounded so much like Karlie! Who knew Cameron was the mother hen type?
He paused before answering, "Uh... Not sure. Awhile ago?" Before the disapproval that Brennan just KNEW was coming, he interrupted, "I'll eat, ok? I'll make something right now. Satisfied?"
"Not really. But it'll have to do. Take care of yourself, Mulwray."
"I'll try. Thanks Cameron. Later."
"I mean it, Mulwray. Ciao."
Brennan hung up. Then he unplugged the phone and sat down on the kitchen floor again.
Just so tired...
He considered dragging himself out for a pick-me-up, but didn't think it was really worth the effort. Nothing seemed worth the effort anymore. He kept seeing it. He saw the goon's finger twitch on the trigger. He'd seen it.
And there had been no time to charge up.
He might have been able to pull his gun. But it would have been useless. Bullet less.
And there it was. He'd killed Karlie. It should have been him. Karlie didn't deserve to die; she was so happy, so full of life. She didn't deserve it.
Life sucked.
And with the immense profoundness of that thought, Brennan came to a decision. This life had bruised and battered him. It had, shoved, hit and kicked him around. Sent him a savior and then ripped his heart out and stomped on it. This life didn't want him?
Well, screw that!
Screw this life!
He didn't want it either!
He would end it.
He would end it all.
And with that, he was out the door.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He had no big, elaborate plan. He went to the bridge where Karlie had been murdered. There was no dramatic purpose for it. He had started walking and somehow ended up here, and figured this was as good of a place as any. Fitting even. He took out the knife Jay had given him. He had only used it a few times, but had kept it razor sharp and treasured it.
He sliced his wrists and slumped to the ground and watched the life flow out of him.
It didn't even hurt anymore.
He closed his eyes and knew no more.
Brennan wasn't conscious when a jogger found him and called 911.
* * * * * *
"Shal."
"..."
"Shaaaaaal."
"..."
"Shalimar." Pause. "You mad at me?"
"YES!"
"I just can't tell you, Shal. I can't go through that again. It very nearly destroyed me the first time. A second just might kill me."
She looked at him.
"It was a long time ago?"
"Yes. Ten years."
"And you haven't tried since?"
"Right."
"Not even a THOUGHT of it."
"Not a single one."
She took a deep breath. "All right then. I guess the reason isn't important then. As long as you promise, PROMISE me, Brennan, that you will NEVER do anything like that again. Understand me?" It was not a question.
"Yeah, I got it." His brown eyes flickered amusedly.
"Good." She shifted a bit uncomfortably. "Because I care about you. You know that, right?"
His eyes softened. "I didn't actually. But thanks for telling me."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
After Karlie's death and his failed suicide, Brennan closed off. He started to drink more, though not nearly enough to be considered an alcoholic, as his father still haunted his mind. He had drowned himself in cheap women and even cheaper whiskey. Cameron and Jack actually stood by him, and more then once dragged him out of the sleazy bars or nightclubs he was drunk in, or let him crash on their couch. Eventually, he got better and went back to his job as a career criminal.
Only this time he kept his gun loaded.
His life at Sanctuary was so much better.
Shal slipped her hand into his. Ah. Yet another aspect of his hands he liked. Shalimar's slender fingers fit perfectly into his own. She looked at him, heart in her eyes, before slipping out of his room, her grip sliding out of his. He watched as she slid the door shut and say down on the bed. "I think...I think that I could love you, Shalimar." His words hung in the air.
Shalimar was leaning against his door, and with her advanced hearing, [1] she heard the words meant for her, and a smile flitted across her features. "I think that I could love you too, Brennan," she whispered, and walked away, with a small smile still on her face.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When Brennan came up on the girl, she wasn't painting. She had a painting with her, covered by a drop cloth. She looked like she was waiting for him, and a knowing smile was on her face. Her hair was down today, flowing down to her shoulders.
"You've found it."
"It?"
"Your one true passion of course. You've found it. I can tell."
A smile crossed his face as he thought of a certain blonde-haired, brown- eyed feral who had been occupying his every thought recently.
"Yeah. Yeah, I might have, actually."
Her knowing smile got wider. "Does she know yet?"
He erupted into laughter. "Is it THAT obvious it's a her? Or do you just know everything?" he asked, vastly amused.
"A bit of both," she responded with a wink. Her smile saddened a bit. "I won't be seeing you anymore."
"Why not?" he asked, confused.
"I have to go home now."
"Home?"
"You should go back to her now. Tell her. Be happy." She walked over, gave him a peck on the cheek and put the painting in his hands and closed his slender fingers around it. "Good luck, Brennan."
And with that she turned and walked away. She was gone before he even realized what she had said, or wonder about how she knew his name. He looked down at the painting, and removed the drop-cloth. It was the park scene he had first seen her painting.
And there, in the bottom corner was the signature. Just the first name.
Averlie.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
[1] I do not claim to know everything about new mutant ferals. I'm not sure whether or not ferals have advanced hearing. And since Shal has mutated, I don't know if only SHE among ferals has advanced hearing or even IF she has it... And I'll shut up now. Just know that this is fanfiction and I say that Shalimar has advanced hearing, so she DOES!!! Ok??
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Readers: OMG! You killed Karlie!
Kitta Cat: ::blinks:: Woah. South Park flash back...
Rockergurl: ::wails:: I KNOW! I'm SORRY! It just HAPPENED! I didn't MEAN to!
Kitta Cat: Oh, and Rockergurl, obviously, doesn't own South Park either.
REVIEW RESPONSES:
ALIASJANEDOE: All the men in my family have the LONGEST lashes in history. Luckily, so do the women. ::bats her LOOOONG lashes::
EYECANDY: O__O hehe, don't hurt me. Here's the last chapter. Just the epilogue to go.
COMPUTER GUY: OMFL!! THE Computer Guy has reviewed my story. TWICE!! Are you feeling ok? You, like, never REVIEW stories. Hell, you, don't READ stories. Ok, I'm exaggerating. Slightly.
PIANO-PLAYER: I like to think that it's our creative genius that makes a story great mi otra mitad. Notice the OUR, por favor. You have it too. You have everything I do. Duh. GOOD CHARLOTTE RULES!!
QUEST: Well, if this part had you laughing, I'm giving up on you. I needed a tissue or two writing it. But that's just ME. I cry at... EVERYTHING.\