Author's Note: Here it is, chapter 7! A HUGE thankyou to all my reviewers for all your encouragement and kind words! I'm having a great time writing this fic, and I'm glad that other people are enjoying reading it! I'm currently working on a kind of movie-sequel … which will of course be based on the ending of What Was Once, not the movie ending ;-) … hopefully I will get the first chapter up a week or so after this one finishes … I'm still working through the basics of it!

There should be about 2-3 more chapters of this fic … stay tuned! The rating's gone up for this chapter – Gamble is just a *little* bit nasty!

Shout-outs:

Flame guardian: Thankyou :-) Hope you like it …

Leann: Here's an update!!!

Sarah: Hope this one satisfies – glad you liked the last one

Emma: Hopefully that will happen … I have to decide whether in this fic or the next ;-)

Kat: Hope this one didn't take too long … :-)

Wolf maid: Thanks :-) Hope I didn't take too long … are you still on the seat? :p

Bsktballchik: yeah … I thought it was important enough! Thanks!!

Katie: Oh, he's still trying ;-) I didn't much like the movie ending either … so expect some surprises ;-) maybe not in this chapter, but certainly in the next! Thanks for reviewing!

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Chapter 7 : What Was Once …

Street charged towards the section of bridge where he had last seen Gamble. He barely heard the gunshot from the cabin of the plane as he reached the edge, looking around almost frantically, trying to locate Gamble. His eyes fell on a rope tied around one of the railings; he leaned over the side, straining his eyes against the darkness, searching for any signs of Gamble.

There, he thought, dimly making out the shape of a man, climbing down the rope, almost at the bottom. Abandonning subtlety in favour of speed, he began climbing quickly down the rope towards his quarry.

He reached the bottom and began staring about him into the darkness, searching for movement. He heard a noise behind and whirled around too late, as Gamble leapt and pushed him against a nearby building. In a quick movement he stabbed a knife through Street's left hand, pinning him to the wall. Jim yelled in pain and shock.

Gamble patted him on the shoulder. "You're like a bad smell, you know … just can't get rid of you!" he exclaimed, then twisted the knife. He was gratified by the scream of pain this forced from Street's lips. "Well … maybe I've found a way," he finished with a smile. "Don't be a stranger, Jimbo," he whispered. " I do so hate it when you aren't around," he finished sarcastically. He gave the knife one last twist, then ran off.

Street leant against the wall, gasping and trying to quell the mounting waves of panic and pain that threatened to send him into unconsiousness, while trying to keep his left hand as still as possible. He looked around desperately, but could see no person save the fast retreating figure of Gamble. Blood was running freely down his forearm now. He realised with sick certainty that he had to get the knife out. No one was coming to help him. He had to do this on his own … had to get the knife out … had to bring Gamble down.

He reached across with his right hand, and tentatively clutched the knife handle. It was slippery with his blood, but he took a tight grip on his, ignoring the shots of white hot pain this sent through his damaged hand. He took a deep breath, then ripped the knife out.

He struggled to hold back a cry of pain as he knelt on the ground, trying to breathe. Air came in ragged gasps as he pushed himself back to his feet, cradling his injured hand. His hands and arms were slick with blood, as was the knife he still clutched in his right hand. He wiped his hands and arms on his shirt as he ran after Gamble. When I catch that son of a bitch … he thought grimly … I am going to make him wish he'd never been born.

He slowed to a walk as he approached a corner, hearing footsteps receding from behind it. Carefully he walked around the corner, and saw Gamble a few metres away from him, walking next to the railway tracks. He closed the gap quickly, and knocked Brian to the ground. He rolled over and tried to get up, only to be met with a fist in the jaw from Street.

Jim threw himself down on top of Gamble, punching him, the knife safely holstered in his belt. He would keep that for later. He landed four blows before Gamble seized his injured left hand and twisted it mercilessly. Street – distracted – lashed out at Gamble's arm, and Gamble struck him hard in the stomach, following it up with a blow to the jaw that left Jim reeling.

All hell broke loose. Gamble grabbed Street around his throat and twisted his neck viciously. Street grabbed the knife in his belt and stabbed it into Gamble's arm. Gamble let go with a cry, and – running on adrenaline – wrenched the knife out of his arm with a yell of pai nand frustration. Street struck him across the face, sending him flying and making him release the knife. It clattered away to the side.

Jim gave his former friend no time to recover, hitting him again in the ribs. Gamble fell back, and this time made no effort to rise. Jim stood over him, panting. "You had enough, partner?"

Gamble narrowed his eyes as he looked up at Street. "You know, friend, I don't think I have." In a quick move, he knocked Street's feet out from under him, bringing him to the ground beside him. Street – temporarily stunned – lay still, until Gamble hit him solidly in the face. Jim scrambled backwards and got to his feet, kicking Gamble as he too tried to rise.

Gamble leapt to his feet and knocked Street away. Jim reached for his holster and whirled around, his gun pointing at Gamble … to find himself staring down the barrel of Gamble's gun.

"Well, well, Jimmy-boy," Gamble said at last. "I believe we have a standoff."

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Author's Note: I know – pathetically short again! Sorry … I'm about to start writing chapter 8, so that should be up in a few days … hope this chapter satisfies :-)