Chapter 9
When I finally came to, it took me a minute to realize where I was. I'd been tied to a chair in the middle of a room that looked vaguely familiar. And then it hit me: I was in the old ranger station where Paul had nearly killed me two years ago.
As if on cue, Paul emerged from the other room, looking rather different from the last time I'd seen him. His hair was a bit shaggier, and he looked kind of weary and much older than I remembered. But then, I guess prison will do that to you.
"Hello, Suze," Paul said casually, smiling at me. "Long time no see."
I chose that moment to call him a rather dirty word, but he just laughed at me. I couldn't do anything to him and we both knew it. Finally, I asked, "What do you want, Paul?" I knew, of course, but I still felt like I needed to hear it.
Paul didn't answer right away. He strode over to the desk that stood behind me and took something out of one of the drawers. I tried to turn my head to see what it was, but I couldn't see it. "You know," Paul said, "For the past two years I've had two really big goals." I heard him come toward me, though I couldn't see him yet. "I wanted-like you and Jesse, I guess-to destroy the Agency, but for different reasons." I heard a loud clicking sound and I stiffened.
"You never really seemed to have a problem with what they do," I muttered, trying unsuccessfully to keep my voice from shaking.
"No," he agreed. "I wanted to destroy the Agency mainly because they wanted- and still want-to destroy me." He chuckled. I wasn't sure how exactly he could find any of this at all amusing, but then, this was Paul we were talking about. "And yes, I know all about what the Agency wants Jesse to do." Suddenly I felt something rather cold and metallic against the back of my head. A gun. Oh, God. "I have no doubt that he will, of course," Paul added. "But I figure, why not take care of my second goal while still hurting him?"
There was no doubt in my mind what Paul's second goal was. I had landed him in prison, pretty much ruined his life, I guess, and now he was going to kill me once and for all. The weird thing was, though, that even though I knew that, I wasn't afraid. I probably should have been-hell, I should've been peeing my pants right then-but for some reason, I wasn't.
The only thing I felt, to be honest, was guilt at the fact that the last memory I would have of Jesse was our fight from earlier that day. I would never be able to kiss him, or tell him that I loved him ever again.
Looking back on it later, I thought that it was a rather odd moment for what happened next. Because just as I was thinking that, the gun literally flew from Paul's hand and Jesse materialized behind us.
***
Jesse didn't know what led him to the old ranger station. He had assumed that Paul wouldn't even think about taking Susannah there again. But then, it made sense, of course. It was probably the last place that anyone would look for him.
But for whatever reason, Jesse went there. And he found Susannah, tied to a chair with Paul pointing a gun at the back of her head.
He let all his anger and hate-and fear-loose as he lunged at Paul. The gun went skittering across the room, and Jesse sank his fists into Paul's face. Paul of course tried to fight back, but Jesse wouldn't-really, he couldn't- stop. He'd been given a command, and as much as he knew he would hate himself later, he had to adhere to it.
He stopped only when Paul was barely hanging on to consciousness. Jesse stood and picked up the gun from where it had landed. A part of him didn't want to do it-he wasn't, and never had been, a killer-and another part of him wanted to make Paul pay all that he'd done. His hands were shaking horribly as he turned back to Paul.
"Jesse."
He turned and finally looked at Susannah. She was staring at him, wide eyed. He swore, then set the gun down-out of Paul's reach, of course-and went to Susannah. Jesse untied her, then helped her out of the chair. She had a nasty looking bump on the back of her head, but Jesse ignored it for now. "Susannah," he said firmly, taking her arm and steering her toward the door. "I want you to get out of here. Wait. . . wait for me outside."
"Jesse, wait-"
He shook his head. "No. Wait for me outside," he repeated. If he had to do this, he at least didn't want Susannah to have to watch. He wouldn't be able to live-theoretically, of course-with himself if she saw him that way.
Susannah looked like she was going to protest, but finally she leaned up and kissed his cheek, then practically ran from the station.
Jesse sighed, then turned back to Paul. He was staring at him through blurry, glazed blue eyes. Paul watched him as Jesse went back to the gun and picked it up, pointing it at him. He gave one last pitiful attempt to fight the command he'd been given. It was no use, of course. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely, though he wasn't sure what he was sorry for, or to whom he was apologizing.
***
A gunshot rang out through the night a second later. I whirled around, staring at the ranger station. I ran toward the door, but stopped a few feet away from it. I really didn't want to see what had happened, I realized. It was bad enough that I knew.
A few moment later the door inched open and Jesse appeared. He closed the door behind him and turned to stare down at me. He looked lost and totally forlorn. The minion for the Agency was gone now, replaced by the Jesse I had always known, the Jesse who was horrified by what he had just done.
"Jess," I whispered. I tried to take his hand, but he snatched it away, turning away from me, but not before I saw his hands. They were covered in blood.
***
A/N: I'm torn between thinking I evil and. . . I don't know. Paul was a (bad word here) but I'm not sure that he should have died that way, or that Jesse should have been the one to kill him. Yeah. Well, we still have a ways left to go with this story, in case you're worried. Jesse still needs to be freed from the Agency, and. . . well, I think we can all agree that something needs to be done about the Agency. I'm going to get to that, I promise. And hopefully soon.
When I finally came to, it took me a minute to realize where I was. I'd been tied to a chair in the middle of a room that looked vaguely familiar. And then it hit me: I was in the old ranger station where Paul had nearly killed me two years ago.
As if on cue, Paul emerged from the other room, looking rather different from the last time I'd seen him. His hair was a bit shaggier, and he looked kind of weary and much older than I remembered. But then, I guess prison will do that to you.
"Hello, Suze," Paul said casually, smiling at me. "Long time no see."
I chose that moment to call him a rather dirty word, but he just laughed at me. I couldn't do anything to him and we both knew it. Finally, I asked, "What do you want, Paul?" I knew, of course, but I still felt like I needed to hear it.
Paul didn't answer right away. He strode over to the desk that stood behind me and took something out of one of the drawers. I tried to turn my head to see what it was, but I couldn't see it. "You know," Paul said, "For the past two years I've had two really big goals." I heard him come toward me, though I couldn't see him yet. "I wanted-like you and Jesse, I guess-to destroy the Agency, but for different reasons." I heard a loud clicking sound and I stiffened.
"You never really seemed to have a problem with what they do," I muttered, trying unsuccessfully to keep my voice from shaking.
"No," he agreed. "I wanted to destroy the Agency mainly because they wanted- and still want-to destroy me." He chuckled. I wasn't sure how exactly he could find any of this at all amusing, but then, this was Paul we were talking about. "And yes, I know all about what the Agency wants Jesse to do." Suddenly I felt something rather cold and metallic against the back of my head. A gun. Oh, God. "I have no doubt that he will, of course," Paul added. "But I figure, why not take care of my second goal while still hurting him?"
There was no doubt in my mind what Paul's second goal was. I had landed him in prison, pretty much ruined his life, I guess, and now he was going to kill me once and for all. The weird thing was, though, that even though I knew that, I wasn't afraid. I probably should have been-hell, I should've been peeing my pants right then-but for some reason, I wasn't.
The only thing I felt, to be honest, was guilt at the fact that the last memory I would have of Jesse was our fight from earlier that day. I would never be able to kiss him, or tell him that I loved him ever again.
Looking back on it later, I thought that it was a rather odd moment for what happened next. Because just as I was thinking that, the gun literally flew from Paul's hand and Jesse materialized behind us.
***
Jesse didn't know what led him to the old ranger station. He had assumed that Paul wouldn't even think about taking Susannah there again. But then, it made sense, of course. It was probably the last place that anyone would look for him.
But for whatever reason, Jesse went there. And he found Susannah, tied to a chair with Paul pointing a gun at the back of her head.
He let all his anger and hate-and fear-loose as he lunged at Paul. The gun went skittering across the room, and Jesse sank his fists into Paul's face. Paul of course tried to fight back, but Jesse wouldn't-really, he couldn't- stop. He'd been given a command, and as much as he knew he would hate himself later, he had to adhere to it.
He stopped only when Paul was barely hanging on to consciousness. Jesse stood and picked up the gun from where it had landed. A part of him didn't want to do it-he wasn't, and never had been, a killer-and another part of him wanted to make Paul pay all that he'd done. His hands were shaking horribly as he turned back to Paul.
"Jesse."
He turned and finally looked at Susannah. She was staring at him, wide eyed. He swore, then set the gun down-out of Paul's reach, of course-and went to Susannah. Jesse untied her, then helped her out of the chair. She had a nasty looking bump on the back of her head, but Jesse ignored it for now. "Susannah," he said firmly, taking her arm and steering her toward the door. "I want you to get out of here. Wait. . . wait for me outside."
"Jesse, wait-"
He shook his head. "No. Wait for me outside," he repeated. If he had to do this, he at least didn't want Susannah to have to watch. He wouldn't be able to live-theoretically, of course-with himself if she saw him that way.
Susannah looked like she was going to protest, but finally she leaned up and kissed his cheek, then practically ran from the station.
Jesse sighed, then turned back to Paul. He was staring at him through blurry, glazed blue eyes. Paul watched him as Jesse went back to the gun and picked it up, pointing it at him. He gave one last pitiful attempt to fight the command he'd been given. It was no use, of course. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely, though he wasn't sure what he was sorry for, or to whom he was apologizing.
***
A gunshot rang out through the night a second later. I whirled around, staring at the ranger station. I ran toward the door, but stopped a few feet away from it. I really didn't want to see what had happened, I realized. It was bad enough that I knew.
A few moment later the door inched open and Jesse appeared. He closed the door behind him and turned to stare down at me. He looked lost and totally forlorn. The minion for the Agency was gone now, replaced by the Jesse I had always known, the Jesse who was horrified by what he had just done.
"Jess," I whispered. I tried to take his hand, but he snatched it away, turning away from me, but not before I saw his hands. They were covered in blood.
***
A/N: I'm torn between thinking I evil and. . . I don't know. Paul was a (bad word here) but I'm not sure that he should have died that way, or that Jesse should have been the one to kill him. Yeah. Well, we still have a ways left to go with this story, in case you're worried. Jesse still needs to be freed from the Agency, and. . . well, I think we can all agree that something needs to be done about the Agency. I'm going to get to that, I promise. And hopefully soon.