And so begins our next to last chapter. Chapter twenty-two. Like I told you, it is over twenty. Of course, when I told you that, I had already finished the story, but still— (yes, I do highly suggest that people finish stories before publishing them. It makes me more than angry when someone starts with something fabulous, and then can't think of an ending.)
Anyway people, I love flashbacks, and skipping large amounts of time. This chapter is one year later, is some of you can't read italicized writing.
aboslute power: Actually, I modeled Chance after a heartless jerk I know. He would have really done that, I'm sure. I would have muttered something, and said fine, but yes, Chance is mean.
aperfectattitude: So sad, isn't it? By the way, tell bookz (she mentioned you. I think you know her? If not, sorry) to read Hitting Hard. She liked Dead Dreams after all. And I would write her, but she doesn't have her email out. Tell her thank you for reviewing Dead Dreams too.
avovisto: I'm sure you'll be even more angry when you're done with this. It's more tearfullness. Heh heh.
Elyne: I scowl at you especially hard. I am in desperate need of a laptop. I have one piece of advice for you: If you wish to live a long and healthy typing life, don't stick any part of your hand or fingers in boiling oil, or sugar. It hurts. I've done both. And you're right. No one's written much about that possibility. The end of the story certainly leaves room for that, but I'm bad with sequels. We shall see.
notdapunkprincess: You have no appreciation for tragedy. Ah well. And I was typing in an unliteral manner of typing.
silverfalls: Thanks. Come back in August for my next story. :) (Shameless self-promotion. Heh heh.)
teky1389: Thanks. Someone new... I love new people. grins If you're very nice, and have the time... please go back and type in: Good. on all the other chapters. I wanted to break 200 one my reviews, but I've only got one more chapter.
Trouble Kelp: Wait a bit more for my infamous happy bits. Yes, I'm a pianist. I've played since I was about six or so... somewhere around there.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer own are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.
A year later…
Butler strode on. He didn't have to worry about tripping over people. They kindly got out of his way. Of course, he was very big, and he looked a lot younger than he felt.
He wasn't in the mood to stop and look at the shops that lined the small street. He was tired, and Juliet was worrying him again. Sometimes, she'd go through a quiet time. She wouldn't talk much for a while. And she was doing it again.
She'd done it ever since the Anthonys had gotten a hold of her a year ago. He had no idea what had happened, but something had, and she didn't want to talk about it. Which was strange, considering how close they were otherwise. But he didn't ask. Someday, perhaps, she'd talk about it. Until then, he wouldn't say anything.
It helped, sometimes, when people just let you be.
He pulled out his keys, unlocked the car door, and backed out into the traffic. She'd gone off this summer, on a meandering trip across Europe. She wanted to meet him, apparently. At one of the beaches that the family had visited when both of them were little. To talk, hopefully. She might. It was a very quiet place. Not a lot of people knew about it.
Half an hour later, he pulled into the small area for parking above the beach area. She wasn't there yet, but someone else was.
Quickly, he got out, and jogged down the path to the beach, determined to scare off whoever it was. A tad bit naughty of him, certainly, but it was for Juliet. She needed to talk, and she wouldn't, and probably couldn't, with someone else hanging around.
For a moment, as he came around a pine, and stepped onto the sand, he thought it was Chance, sitting there, and that somehow he had found out, and in a second there would be a gun shot behind him, and he would be dead. But the person was too young.
Silently, he drew his gun, releasing the safety, and gliding across the sand.
It was an Anthony, no doubt about that, and the reason he hadn't been noticed, most likely, was because of the cell phone clamped to his ear. And the argument he was obviously in.
"You say I should be home now! Two months ago, you were saying: Justin, go have some fun, you've never had any before! I just want to do what I want to do, okay?"
Anger welled up inside Butler. Justin. He ought to shoot him right now. But he wouldn't. Not in the back. And not so fast. No. There would be time, before he died.
Muttering to himself, Justin hung up, and climbed to his feet.
When he turned around, he was staring at the end of Butler's gun. "Sit down, Justin. I want to talk to you."
If it hadn't been for the tan, Justin's face would have been paper white. As it was, he looked rather sickly for a few moments. Then he recovered. Slightly. If that. "Sir?"
"Sit down."
Slowly, Justin sat back down, eyes searching the path, and then the walkway overlooking the beach.
"There's no one there. No one coming to help you. So now you know how my sister must have felt, trapped by you, and the rest of your family. And you chased her down. Made her jump of a roof. Made her drive that ridiculous motorcycle into the river. Made her go through the rapids. And then, when she couldn't go further, you scraped her off the ground."
"I didn't—"
"And it was her, against the lot of you. But this is different, isn't it, Justin? Try. Go ahead."
Justin looked at the man standing over him. He was dead as soon as he tried. He knew it. Again, he heard Juliet. Yeah. Probably. And she had been right. Somehow, he'd been found out. And the Butler wasn't going to be content with shooting him.
A car pulled up above, barely audible, except for the heavy silence.
Butler smirked, pushing him over with the end of the gun. "Company. How nice. Perhaps they'll join us in the fun. This was a bad day to come here, Justin. A bad day. I wasn't looking for you. I cane here to talk with someone. To meet with someone. But I guess I also get you. As a bonus. A wonderful day isn't it? Wonderful for dying."
Justin stared past the Butler's head, at the sky. So he died. It was Juliet he was worried about. She wouldn't know… that he had lied. Or that he did care. Or that he was sorry. Never. He'd be dead, before then.
"What are you doing, Dom?"
Justin started, pushing himself up on an elbow. Not her… not her. Please no. He couldn't die watching her laugh. Even if he deserved it. He couldn't. But it was her.
She slowed, squinting against the sun. "You shouldn't point guns at people, Dom! That's naughty. Who is it?"
"A friend of yours."
Juliet stepped closer, and froze, as she recognized him.
Butler smiled heartlessly. "You don't have to join, baby-sister. I'll do it. But I thought you might like to watch."
"Dom?"
He motioned her to the sand, and turned back to Justin, pushing him down flat again. "Ever felt a knife in your stomach?"
Juliet sank down, hardly hearing. Justin. Why was he here? And should she let him die like this? He'd been so horribly cruel to her. And he'd laughed about it. But—
A gasp from Justin brought her back.
Butler smiled, lifting the knife. It had blood on the tip. "My initials. Be proud. I don't mark many people. But I want Chance to know it was me. I warned him."
He raised the knife again, and Juliet burst into tears.
"What?"
"No! No, don't! Don't! Don't hurt him, Dom! Please don't hurt him… Let him go."
Butler laughed in disbelief. "If you don't like blood, look away, Juliet. But he deserves it. And he's going to get exactly what he deserves. No more, and no less. I promise."
Again, he raised the knife.
"No!" Juliet screamed.
And it was not the words, but the pure anger in her voice, and the fearful protectiveness that made him stop.
"What?"
Juliet buried her face in her hands. "Let him go," she whispered. "Don't hurt him."
"Why?"
"Because."
"You're acting like you love him, Juliet. He deserves it. You know he does."
Slowly, she looked up, tears trickling down her face. "Yes… but… but I do. I do. And I can't help it."
"You what?" Butler wasn't believing any of it. People talked about nightmare incidents in which others fell in love with the most horrible persons. There had been millions of movies made on the subject. He'd always laughed before. He wasn't laughing now. Not at all.
"I love him," sobbed Juliet.
On the sand, Justin wished himself dead very hard. She still loved him. After all he'd done.
"Does he love you?"
Justin bit his tongue. After what he'd told her, what was she supposed to say? Oh yes, of course he does. He loves me more than anything. He shouldn't have done it. He should have risked making Chance and everyone angry, told her he loved her, and asked her to go.
Juliet rolled over, huddling miserably on the sand. "No. No. He hates me. He doesn't."
"And you still love him?"
She nodded. "You can't hurt him, Dom. Don't hurt him. Please don't… Let him go."
Butler glanced back down at Justin. Everything in him wanted to kill this man. To hurt him as best he could. But Juliet was begging him not to. She said she loved him. And he was beginning to think she did.
"Alright, I'll give you choices."
"Yes," whispered Juliet. "What?"
"You can have him, and I never want to see you again, or, you can let me kill him and come home, and I won't say anything more about it. And you don't have to watch. You may go up and sit in your car. I won't take hours. Just enough to make it painful."
Juliet sobbed harder. "Please Dom— please don't. Don't do this to me. Please?"
"Choose."
"Now?"
"Right now. We don't have all day."
Justin looked up, meeting Juliet's eyes. "Don't. He's your brother, Juliet. And he's right. Listen to him. I'll die anyways, why not now? You can't live your whole life without a family. And I deserve it. You know that. You know I do. After I—"
Juliet choked on her tears, turning her eyes back towards her brother. He was waiting. Everyone was waiting. And it was so cruel of them. Asking her to choose. They couldn't. It hurt bad enough as it was. They couldn't ask her who she loved more.
Butler spat at him. "Well, at least your man enough to admit it. Listen to him, Juliet. Listen to me. I love you."
Juliet shut her eyes tightly for a long time. None of them moved. No one said anything.
Then she shook her head. "No. No. I— I can't! Please Dom? Just let him go. I can't! Don't ask me to choose; I can't! No. Please? Just let him go. Don't hurt him. Let him go."
"You want me to let him go?"
"I don't know…" She dropped her eyes, staring at the sand. "I don't know anymore."
"Say it now. Who do you want?"
Juliet didn't answer. She couldn't. She was crying too hard. And she didn't know. Not now. She couldn't think. Could hardly understand what was going on, and why this was happening. And she didn't know. Didn't know what she should choose. If she could.
Butler raised the knife, angling it slightly between his fingers.
A scream tore itself from Juliet's mouth. Anguished, and pleading. "Don't! No…"
He stood there a moment, and then bent, carefully wiping the blood off the blade. "Very well. Goodbye." Quietly, he turned, trotting across the sand towards the path.
Juliet sat frozen, watching him disappear up the path. He couldn't… Then she heard his car start, and pull away.
She rolled over, burying her head in her hands, and cried. As hard as she could.
Originally, I was going to end on chapter twenty-two, but I wrote it, and I realize I need another chapter, or I'm going to get more than a few flames, obviously. So horribly sad— don't worry, people. Dom does get over himself. I know it just wouldn't be him if he hated Juliet for the rest of his life, so stop crying.
I can, however, imagine him angry enough to storm off, thinking she'd follow, and then, realizing that they really do love each other, turn around and come back, and forgive her, and all of that. So stop sniffling.
I won't be here (on fanfiction) during June, and some of July. My calendar says: Get back Monday night around eleven, leave Tuesday morning around five. Stay a week. Get back, and repeat. Lovely, isn't it? But I get a lot of airplane rides, plenty of beaches, and roller coasters here and there.
Everybody write me though. I may steal Jaydon's laptop if we go visit him. (in Seattle) For those of you who don't know, we is my sister Jena and I, and Jaydon is her boyfriend. Quite frankly, I think it's ridiculous that they stay together and live so far apart. He's bound to cheat on her someday. Or she on him. I wouldn't put that past her. We're in New York City for heaven's sake! Opposite sides of the continent. What people will do for the things they think are love… ;)
Anyway. One last chapter, and that's it. Please review people. I had wanted to break two hundred, but I'm not going to... sly grin unless some of you who've only reviewed now and then, go back and write: Good. for all the chapters you missed. Heh heh.