Standard Disclaimer

A/N: Okay, I'm sorry I took so long getting this chapter up. It's been a tough week and I got sick. So I'm sorry if this doesn't meet expectations, I did it all in one night when I should have been doing stuff for school and then going to bed early. BUT...tomorrow is Friday, and I shall have the weekend, and hopefully, by Monday, we will reach the conclusion of this tale. So...enjoy!

Brawl

Six Months Ago:

Claudia walked into the holding area. They had Felix in a wide open space, where they could watch him. They weren't bars as much as they were thick metal screens. He had a bed in the middle, and his private things, out for whoever came to see him to view, sat on a table, neatly aligned in a row.

He was currently sitting on his bed, a glorified army cot that it was, reading a book. He looked up at her.

"Yes?" he said. She loved a man with an accent.

"You asked for me, Mr. Felix," she replied.

Felix uncurled his long legs and stood up, setting down the book. "You are she? The White Witch?"

"Politically incorrect, but true." Claudia smiled. "Although many would say the White Bitch."

Felix regarded her. "What happened to your face?"

It was almost a rude question, but Claudia did hardly more than flinch. "That's sort of the reason why I'm taking this job," she said with a heavy sigh. The scar on her cheek had tightened, but most of the damage was confined to the thickness of the line down the side of her face. As for what else Vincent had done to her...those hadn't been to her face. "I'm a fast healer though," she said, almost brightly. "Only took me about three months to really get patched up and in working condition again."

Felix grunted. "You are a government issue," he muttered.

"I'm a private contractor," she said. "The government just had first dibs on me for a while. But after what happened, I'm not planning on doing another job for them for a good long time. Until they pay my workman's comp, anyway."

Felix gave a little smile, nodded. "So, you can find him?"

"I can always find him. What I don't quite understand, Mr. Felix, is why. I mean, it's a bit late. You're already done."

Felix nodded. "True. But even inside this world, I still have power outside. And it will make a statement. Considering your situation, I thought you were ideal to handle it."

"I am. I will enjoy it."

"I'm sure. I shall tell the proper people to send the payment. As soon as you receive it, I wish to hear regular reports of your progress. Telegrams, if you must. Be as cryptic as you like, I'm fond of puzzles."

She nodded, smiled. Too bad he was inside. She could probably grow to like him.

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NOW:

Vincent entered the building, being extra careful. He didn't know exactly where Claudia was, but it made little difference at the moment, except for the possibility that she could turn a corner at any second. If he was so fortunate. He had his knife at the ready for such a possibility.

The problem with most people in his situation was that he could, quite possibly, let his anger get the best of him. This would cause two problems, both of which Vincent had examined carefully in the silent hours while he waited for Victoria to return from the police station. One, if he was too angry, he could let his passion get the better of him and make a mistake. Two, passion often lead to the desire to cause maximum pain. While this seemed to be a reasonable option, it allowed the receiver too much time to live and therefore the possibility of escape. A quick death was best in these cases. He'd always believed in a quick death. Torture was good only for information. If torture happened to kill - well, there were always possibilities. But he needed no information from Claudia. He already knew what was going on. Felix was ordered this hit, and with her being twice thwarted by him and Victoria, Claudia was the most likely candidate. But if Vincent made her death ugly and public enough, even if it was post-mortem, Felix would get the hint and give up. No sense wasting perfectly good assassins. And Felix had seemed like a reasonable man.

He found his way up the stairs and into the apartment. It was empty, and dark. Not a good sign. He always kept his lights on. Shadows were never an option when it came to your own place. Too many places for others to hide. If Claudia had the lights off, she was most likely there, and possibly waiting for him.

He stepped inside. His gun was at the ready in its holder, fully loaded, extra clip in his pocket. He had a knife up his sleeve, and another closer to his fingertips in case of a sudden charge. And he had cut his hair. Hair was just too easy to grasp in the middle of a fight. He didn't want to give Claudia any chances he didn't have to.

"This is really too predictable," he said in a conversational voice, echoing slightly in the dark. "I mean, it's like a bad movie."

"Not that bad of a movie," came her answering voice. "I thought it was appropriate, though. Considering."

"Considering what?"

"I don't know. Just considering." He heard a soft click. She had a gun as well. So this was going to be even uglier than he'd anticipated. Of course she was prepared. But she always made a mistake at the wrong time. It was her flaw. Her Achilles heel.

"Come on, Claudia," he said, "Let's do this."

"I'm already wet for you, baby," she said, and she opened fire.

He dove backwards. The room was extremely sparse, only the barest minimum of furniture, giving him practically no cover. He grabbed for the door, pulled it close against him, and a few of the bullets went through it, the others going for the wall. One landed an inch from his head.

"You're not even aiming," he accused.

"You think you can do better?" she mocked.

He cocked and fired. Carefully. Three tentative shots, together, in the direction of her voice. He heard the last one lodge into something covered in skin and muscle.

"Fucker. That was my funny bone."

The returning bullet caught him right in the gut.

He raised and fired again, adjusting his aim. His insides were exploding but he pushed it aside. He could not back down, he couldn't give for even a second. He would fight until he was dead, or Claudia was dead, or both.

There was a splattering noise. He'd hit her again, but it was a surface wound - probably a bullet had taken a chunk out of a thigh or something, making a mess but causing little real damage. Bitch of it was, he'd fired too many times, letting the pain make him a little groggy, and his clip was empty.

He let it slide out and reached inside his jacket for the second one. That was when she lunged.

The door that had been protecting him was suddenly yanked back and then thrust at him again, the doorknob hitting him directly in the left temple. He heard the clip he was loading fall to the floor, felt his gun slide from his grip. She moved to kick him, but he caught himself just in time, getting his hand around her ankle, twisting it, fingers pressing on the smaller bones. He was rewarded with a snap.

Her response was to bring her fist right down into the bullet wound in his gut. She pulled it out, thick with his blood, but the spasm of pain had only made his hold on her leg tighter. He yanked, bringing her flat onto her back, rolled and got his elbow directly up into the lower bone of her chin. He heard her teeth snap together painfully, heard her gargle in her throat.

It was difficult to tell what happened next. They were all hands and feet, all pointed elbows and fingernails and heels slamming into vulnerable places. Vincent found himself on automatic, desiring nothing more thank to keep her down long enough to get the knife out of his sleeve, but she was fast, so fast, slinking around him, the light from outside briefly glimmering on her white hair as she moved, the only sign of her in the dark.

The wound in his gut seemed to be widening. He briefly wondered if it was possible for him to continue to fight if one of his vital organs happened to slide out, like it stomach or his colon. He wondered what it would take to get her gut opened up, where exactly he should slam his knife when he finally got it free.

Finally, after a terrible bout with her heel slamming into his crotch, they got away from each other, across the room, and he was able to access his sleeve.

One of his knives was gone.

"I hope you brought two," Claudia said, her knife clicking open. It was a loud snap in the dark room, filled only with the sound of their heavy panting.

"I'm going to kill you, Claudia," he said, very calm.

"I figured one day you would." She sounded so calm, so nonchalant about it. "But really, I'm not worried." She came charging at him, and he could barely move fast enough to avoid the slash of the knife. The whipping sound through the air was like a crack against his eardrums.

"Gut wound making you woozy?" she asked.

"How many teeth you got left?" he returned.

"I don't have any of my real teeth," she admitted. "Lost them about two years ago, bomb in my face. Also took out my knee, the one you thought you broke. Amazing what kind of things they can replace these days, if you know the right people."

He returned the slash, catching her just against her rib cage, a surface knick. She clucked her tongue.

"You know, if we were normal people, this would be sad," she said.

"How so?"

"You and I. We have history, you know. Once upon a time, we were at each other's backs, not each other's throats."

"Don't tell me you're getting sentimental."

More slashing. They ducked, weaved, knicked, backed into corners, bleeding and thinking fast.

"I'm not," she said. "Okay, maybe I am. A little. You were a good fuck."

"Thank you." He made a heavy sweeping motion, and was rewarded with catching something on the side of her head. By the kind of throttled scream she gave, he could tell it was her ear. It made a wet sound as it hit the ground. Severed ears always looked like they were made of wax.

She clutched the wound, her breath going in and out, steadily. She was attempting to block the pain, he had to act fast. He dove again, but she was more ready, managing to duck anything serious. Instead the tip of his knife scratched over the scar on her cheek.

To his surprise, she laughed.

"As I was saying," she said, her tone the same, even though her voice was a bit thicker, "a long time ago, Vincent, you and I were all the other had in the world."

"Times change," he said coldly.

She grunted. "Don't get me wrong. I left you, I know. I guess I just expected you to be bitter about it. Most men are."

"I'm not most men."

"I know. But you are still a man." She paused. "So how's your little baby? He didn't get hurt because of his nanny, did he?"

"Why did you shoot her?" Vincent asked, no accusation in his voice.

"To make you mad," she replied.

"Why didn't you just go straight for Victoria then?" Vincent asked.

"Because I wanted to make a point," Claudia said. She swung, caught Vincent right above the knee, tearing a chunk out of his thigh above it. He stumbled backward, knife out, to keep her from advancing.

"And that point was?"

"You're a not a father."

"No shit," Vincent said.

She snorted. "Please. No macho show for me. I told you before Victoria was a liability. When I'd heard you'd split, I thought you were actually growing a brain. And yet, I threaten her just a little bit, my name happens to come up in the wrong conversation, and here you are, tooth and nail, to protect her."

"I asked for your point," Vincent said, leveling his knife at her.

"My point is, you are totally fucked. Which is why, no matter how hard you fight, you're going to die."

She attacked. It was a series of kicks and swings, which he countered, but it took its toll.

"I'm going to kill you, and then I'm going to kill her, and then I'm going to kill your baby," Claudia said. "And now you're going to get really, really pissed, take a wild swing at me, and I'm going to stab you-"She lunged, exactly as she had predicted, her knife lodging into his rib cage. "Like that."

He looked down at her. He felt the blade. It was lodged right into his old scar, where the bullet Max had put into him once rested.

He reached up. His hand closed around hers. He pulled it away, taking the knife with it.

Claudia looked up at him in shock.

"Two more inches to the left, and you would have been right," Vincent said. "That's what I mean about you, Claudia. You always make a stupid mistake at exactly the wrong time."

And he attacked.

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Victoria stood at the nurse's station, holding Charles in her arms. She wasn't really tired - it was getting on to five in the morning, about an hour away from the end of her shift. She'd been cleared to leave, but since she didn't know exactly where to go, she found herself at the hospital, reluctant to leave. She should check into a hotel. Scratch that, she should leave town. Cindy's family was here, watching over her. They didn't want her around, they blamed her for this mess. Victoria would not forget the look on Cindy's mother's face.

A mother's love was a powerful thing.

She went into the lounge, which was deserted at this hour. The interns would be coming in soon, the morning doctors, the nurses. The hospital's quiet hours would be ending soon. She made herself comfortable on the couch, Charles still asleep in his carrier. She laid down, stretching out to lay one hand inside the carrier, on top of Charles' softly rising chest. He was so lucky...obliviously currently to the pains of life. She briefly wondered if Vincent hadn't been right. If it would have been better not to bring him into the world.

Her hand tightened on one of Charles' small legs. She could feel his little toes flexing against her wrist. No, such thoughts were utter nonsense. She wouldn't have anything in the world right now without him. She would have had to leave Vincent eventually...

staying with him had been an impossibility that was bound to reveal itself in time...

She had drifted off for about ten minutes when she heard the noise. The ambulances pulling up. She lifted herself up, the cheap plastic covering sticking to her arm and leaving an impression on her cheek. A tingle went all the way down her spine.

She moved, causing a horrible squeaking sound that made Charles wake up. He looked up at her, let out a little squeak, and she picked him up, wishing like hell she had a bottle at that moment.

Standing, she went to the door and opened it. The commotion let her down the hallway, into the emergency room. There were two people being brought in on gurneys, both of them cut up so badly she could see the wounds from where she stood. And she saw a thick head of white hair.

She closed in. Claudia.

"Doctor, we need you," Tonya said, taking Charles. "His carrier?"

"In the lounge. How bad is it?" Victoria asked, going into doctor mode.

"Critical. Please."

So Victoria did what a doctor does. She moved to get to work. And then she saw who was on the other gurney.

Vincent.

She stopped, beginning to tremble. There were two doctor's working on him. His wounds were more clean-cut, one in the gut, one in the chest. They had the situation under control.

Claudia was dying.

Victoria stopped. Should she save her? A few more minutes, she would lose so much blood, she would die. She'd been sliced to ribbons, her arms and legs a mass of lacerations, her throat sliced open, but the jugular hadn't been cut, only exposed. All it would take was a simple mistake and that exposed jugular was going to go, and it was over.

It would be over.

She shook herself. That wasn't her job. She wasn't a killer. She had to help.

But Vincent did this, a little voice said to her. He did it to protect you. If you save Claudia, he could die for nothing.

Vincent isn't going to die, Victoria told that voice, glancing over at him.

"Doctor Lancing!" Dr. Gregg called out, and Victoria stepped up. Her hands closed over a thick piece of gauze, pressing down on a particularly nasty wound.

"An artery in her thigh has been damaged," Gregg explained. "We need to get her into surgery."

"Do they know what happened?" she asked as she worked, pulling the mask on over her face, the gloves onto her hands.

"Police found them like this. Neighbors reported fighting, heard funny noises. These two must have been real professionals not to have been screaming and hollering the whole way." The gurney was moving now, into the operating room. Claudia had already been put down. Her vital signs were weak.

"We need pints," Gregg told the nurse. "Stat."

Victoria did not look at Claudia's face. She looked down at the body, at the wounds. She had a job to do. It was...it was...who she was.

Her hands trembled slightly the entire time.

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It took three hours to get the bleeding to stop, get the blood to clot, get enough blood into Claudia to give her a chance to live.

Why in the hell she'd done it, though, she didn't know.

Tonya was getting ready to go off shift. Somewhere she had gotten a bottle of formula delivered, and to Victoria's amazement, Charles had taken it. She'd even managed to produce a diaper and change him. She made arrangements with a nurse in the maternity ward, and Charles was in the best of care - against regulations, but Victoria was too relieved to worry at the moment.

She stepped into the recovery room, her white coat shed and only her civies on underneath. A T-shirt and jeans were the most comfortable for that time of night. She walked up to the bed.

"Vincent?" she whispered.

He'd cut his hair and shaved off his beard. It was a bit of a shock at first, but it was closer to the man she remembered than the long-haired one who had surprised her only hours ago. Had this all happened in one night? It didn't seem possible.

He stirred, only slightly. Then, at the repeated whisper of his name, his eyes slowly opened into slits.

"Vic?" he managed through a dehydrated throat.

"Don't try to talk," she said calmly. "You're at the hospital. They brought you in."

"Cl...aud..."

He was asking about Claudia. She didn't know what the hell to tell him. Currently, Claudia was alive...how long she would stay that way was anyone's guess. She didn't have high chances, but she was a very tough bitch.

"Don't worry about that. You're going to be okay. Hell, Vincent...you're almost lucky Max shot you. All that scar tissue might be what saved you from a worse wound. It was the gunshot in your gut that was really a mess, but luckily they managed to patch you up. There wasn't too much damage to anything vital."

As she spoke his eyes opened a little bit more, a little bit more. Soon, she was staring down into them, deep beautiful green pools, looking up at her with an expression she could barely fathom.

"You?" he whispered. "You...okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. There was a humming in her pocket. Her phone. That might be Ray, calling to let her know when he would be coming. "You rest. I just wanted you to know ...I'm here."

He gave her the faintest of smiles. He moistened his lips, cleared his throat. He was determined to say something, and she began to wonder what it was that was so urgent.

"I...love...you...Vic."

She drew a deep breath. "The last time you told me that," she said, with almost a smile, "you left me. You're not going anywhere for a little bit."

He let out a small burst of air. It was a pathetic excuse for a chuckle, but it passed. "Yes...ma'am."

A/N: I only have time for a few shout outs...I promise I'll get to the rest of you at the end of the next chapter!

OMG firegoddess164! I'm so sorry...I think your review came in on chapter 13 and I was responding to the ones from 12. And then Warm Mittens bombarded me with reviews (wink) and after that it all went to hell. To answer your question: Vincent didn't go to jail. He was allowed to walk and then relocated through Witness Protection because of his help with putting Felix in jail. Where he got relocated, though, I never went into that, didn't think it was important since we all wanted him to go catch up with Victoria, anyway. :)

SweetArwen: Actually, I like that idea...killing off the main character and then bringing her back. That is a FUN plotline. Another one I like is the two main characters, lovers, totally breaking up in the end because they realize they were just not meant to be. Not that I would ever do that myself...well, maybe, someday...if I could take the hate mail. I'll have to think about it. Maybe change my screenname. Heh. :)

PAR? Par? You out there? You sure? You mad at me? Please don't be! Please review! I will email you this weekend, I promise! :)