~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm old enough to take
All the blame
For all the mistakes
All the games and
All the faces
I'm bleeding by myself
But I'm okay
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bane got up from his spot near the window, inches from where Prue was sitting, and crossed the room. She could tell this was hard for him.
"You know, I've never told anyone this. Or, anything else, for that matter." he began. He took a deep breath, strengthening his resolve, and said, "I was never actually a part of the gang. The leader, Barbas, he took me in sort of, but I was never really one of them. I was the go-for, the pissy little messanger boy nobody paid attention to unless they needed something. When I was younger, I was fine with that, but a few years ago...
"People grow up, you know? It happens to everyone, and it happened to me. Eventually, I just got sick of the Lifestyle. I wanted something stable, something less demeaning, something... at least semi-legal.
"But anyway, Barbas wasn't exactly thrilled. He threatened me, and when I left anyway, he sent his best hit out to get me. Her name's Ms. Hellfire, and I've never met her, but trust me when I say she's the best there is at her particular field. And as if that weren't enough to scare me shitless, he goes and has someone plant cocaine on me. I get busted, and end up in prison, where I actually feel safe for a while, until I get a call from Ms. Hellfire. To make a long story short, I broke out, and now I've got the cops looking for me, and a professional hitwoman just waiting to bust a cap in my ass.
"You still want to know why I brought you here. It's because I know who you are. I saw your picture in the paper, when you're cop-boyfriend died. You've got ties to the SFPD. You can help me."
Prue stared at him. She felt a stirring of something, not exactly sympathy, coupled with a strong sense of distrust. The loathing she'd felt earlier, however, faded a bit when he looked at her, his eyes red and imploring.
"Even if I wanted to help you," she said, "I don't see how I could. Andy's dead, remember?"
"His partner." Bane said. "You can ask his partner."
Before Prue could respond, a masked figure broke through the window on the other side of the room. He pulled out a gun and opened fire. Bane jumped in front of Prue, and pulled her back just in time. The two of them fell against the back wall, opposite the intruder, onto a ladder and some painting supplies that had been left on the ground. Bane pulled out a pistol, and fired back. The intruder fled; Prue and Bane were left gasping on the floor.
"You saved me." she breathed.
"Now do you believe me?" he croaked. He rolled over, revealing a patch of blood in his shirt where a bullet had grazed him.
Prue helped him up, and examined the wound as he sat down on the step ladder. "Uh, I'll need you to, um, remove your pants."
"What?" he asked, wincing as she touched the gash.
"Well, how else am I going to take care of this?" she asked. "Damnit, Bane, you did not drag me up here just to watch you bleed to death. Take off your pants, or I'll just have to do it by force." The last bit was said in a somewhat flirtatious tone. They'd reached a silent understanding in the moment he saved her. She couldn't say that she trusted him, but she didn't fear or hate him, either.
"Well, in that case..." he replied. He unbottoned his jeans, and pulled them down just past the waist, far enough to expose the entire wound. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Oh yeah." Prue replied, grinning. She tore off a piece of his shirt to use as a tourniquet. Since it was too small to tie around his waist, she pressed the cloth to the gash, trying to at least control the bleeding. "We really should get you to the hospital."
He shook his head. "I'm not going back to jail, Prue. At least, not until I know I'm safe. Besides, it's just a flesh wound. I've gotten worse."
"Fine." she relented. "Here. Hold this against the wound. I'm gonna go see if there's anything we can use to dress that."
She came back a few minutes later with long strips of white gauze. She wrapped it around his stomach, binding it tightly.
"God." he muttered at one point. "Geez, Prue, I need to breathe."
"It's not that tight." she replied. "Don't be such a baby."
"Oh, I'm a baby?" he asked.
"Uh, yeah."
"How's this for a baby?" He pulled her to him, and gave her a deep, lasting kiss. She leaned against him for a minute, then pulled away as he winced.
"Ooh, sorry." she said, glancing down at the spot of blood leaking through the gauze.
"Don't be." he said. He wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her again.
Prue giggled nervously. 'Well,' she thought, 'this may not be so bad after all.'
****************
A/N: Heh, remind you of any old eps? Give Me A Sign and Ms. Hellfire were two of my favourites, so I had to include them somehow.
A/N2: Oh. My. Frelling. Cod. 300 reviews. You like me, you really like me! ::sends you all cake::
~from the song "Sell My Soul" by Our Lady Peace~
I'm old enough to take
All the blame
For all the mistakes
All the games and
All the faces
I'm bleeding by myself
But I'm okay
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bane got up from his spot near the window, inches from where Prue was sitting, and crossed the room. She could tell this was hard for him.
"You know, I've never told anyone this. Or, anything else, for that matter." he began. He took a deep breath, strengthening his resolve, and said, "I was never actually a part of the gang. The leader, Barbas, he took me in sort of, but I was never really one of them. I was the go-for, the pissy little messanger boy nobody paid attention to unless they needed something. When I was younger, I was fine with that, but a few years ago...
"People grow up, you know? It happens to everyone, and it happened to me. Eventually, I just got sick of the Lifestyle. I wanted something stable, something less demeaning, something... at least semi-legal.
"But anyway, Barbas wasn't exactly thrilled. He threatened me, and when I left anyway, he sent his best hit out to get me. Her name's Ms. Hellfire, and I've never met her, but trust me when I say she's the best there is at her particular field. And as if that weren't enough to scare me shitless, he goes and has someone plant cocaine on me. I get busted, and end up in prison, where I actually feel safe for a while, until I get a call from Ms. Hellfire. To make a long story short, I broke out, and now I've got the cops looking for me, and a professional hitwoman just waiting to bust a cap in my ass.
"You still want to know why I brought you here. It's because I know who you are. I saw your picture in the paper, when you're cop-boyfriend died. You've got ties to the SFPD. You can help me."
Prue stared at him. She felt a stirring of something, not exactly sympathy, coupled with a strong sense of distrust. The loathing she'd felt earlier, however, faded a bit when he looked at her, his eyes red and imploring.
"Even if I wanted to help you," she said, "I don't see how I could. Andy's dead, remember?"
"His partner." Bane said. "You can ask his partner."
Before Prue could respond, a masked figure broke through the window on the other side of the room. He pulled out a gun and opened fire. Bane jumped in front of Prue, and pulled her back just in time. The two of them fell against the back wall, opposite the intruder, onto a ladder and some painting supplies that had been left on the ground. Bane pulled out a pistol, and fired back. The intruder fled; Prue and Bane were left gasping on the floor.
"You saved me." she breathed.
"Now do you believe me?" he croaked. He rolled over, revealing a patch of blood in his shirt where a bullet had grazed him.
Prue helped him up, and examined the wound as he sat down on the step ladder. "Uh, I'll need you to, um, remove your pants."
"What?" he asked, wincing as she touched the gash.
"Well, how else am I going to take care of this?" she asked. "Damnit, Bane, you did not drag me up here just to watch you bleed to death. Take off your pants, or I'll just have to do it by force." The last bit was said in a somewhat flirtatious tone. They'd reached a silent understanding in the moment he saved her. She couldn't say that she trusted him, but she didn't fear or hate him, either.
"Well, in that case..." he replied. He unbottoned his jeans, and pulled them down just past the waist, far enough to expose the entire wound. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Oh yeah." Prue replied, grinning. She tore off a piece of his shirt to use as a tourniquet. Since it was too small to tie around his waist, she pressed the cloth to the gash, trying to at least control the bleeding. "We really should get you to the hospital."
He shook his head. "I'm not going back to jail, Prue. At least, not until I know I'm safe. Besides, it's just a flesh wound. I've gotten worse."
"Fine." she relented. "Here. Hold this against the wound. I'm gonna go see if there's anything we can use to dress that."
She came back a few minutes later with long strips of white gauze. She wrapped it around his stomach, binding it tightly.
"God." he muttered at one point. "Geez, Prue, I need to breathe."
"It's not that tight." she replied. "Don't be such a baby."
"Oh, I'm a baby?" he asked.
"Uh, yeah."
"How's this for a baby?" He pulled her to him, and gave her a deep, lasting kiss. She leaned against him for a minute, then pulled away as he winced.
"Ooh, sorry." she said, glancing down at the spot of blood leaking through the gauze.
"Don't be." he said. He wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her again.
Prue giggled nervously. 'Well,' she thought, 'this may not be so bad after all.'
****************
A/N: Heh, remind you of any old eps? Give Me A Sign and Ms. Hellfire were two of my favourites, so I had to include them somehow.
A/N2: Oh. My. Frelling. Cod. 300 reviews. You like me, you really like me! ::sends you all cake::
~from the song "Sell My Soul" by Our Lady Peace~