Author's Note: just a little over a month to write this. I'm so proud of myself. It should a good chapter. Not the last (I knew I was ambitious to think it might be), but very close. Very tense. I loved writing it once I figured out what was going to happen. ;) Hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
Author's Thanks at the end.
"Amy, honey, you're going to make yourself sick if you don't get any sleep. You know you will; you know how you get."
"I know, I know. But my mind won't shut down. I'm too excited." Amy paced back and forth, robe sweeping behind her. "I can't believe he's actually getting better. Ever since the divorce, I've been so worried about him. And all I ever wanted was for him to be as happy as we are – certainly neither of us were happy when we were together – but he fell apart. If he can pull together again, then I can stop feeling guilty."
"And we can finally set a wedding date," Ted said pointedly as he watched her swoop back and forth. She wasn't as focused on that fact as he'd like her to be. She was his, damnit. Not Mort Rainey's, no matter what her last name was. And if that last name didn't become "Milner" within the next few months, he was going to go crazy.
Only Mort stood in the way of that happy event.
Ted was under no illusions that Amy would resist wedding him until Rainey was either freed or convicted. In a case as sensational as his, the trial along could take years. Hell, Rainey had already spent a year in the loony bin. That certainly hadn't going according to plan. He and Amy were supposed to be man and wife by now, blissfully happy and barely aware of the writer's existence.
The situation needs to be resolved.
Casually, Ted rolled out of bed. "Why don't I make you some warm milk, honey." Yes, get her to go to sleep. Then you can wrap things up they way they were meant to be. "Would you drink it if I made you some?" I'll shove it down her throat glass and all if I have to.
"That would be nice, Ted." Amy turned around from her contemplation of her own reflection and smiled at him gratefully.
"Oh, it's my pleasure, Amy." After kissing her forehead softly, Ted led her back to the bed. "Now, you just make yourself comfortable," he murmured as he tucked the blankets around her, "and I'll be right back."
In the kitchen, Ted wasted no time getting to work. It was going to be a long night, and the more time he had the better. It took next to no time at all to get a pan and a mug out, to start heating up the milk, and to start crushing up enough sleeping pills to knock Amy out for a month if they didn't kill her outright.
Not that he wanted to kill her; she was his to take care of. To love. To protect. That's all he'd ever wanted to do.
Do I have everything I'll need?" Can't leave any loose ends. That was my mistake last time. Shouldn't have trusted Mort to kill himself. Man couldn't even sign his divorce papers without being babied through it by his lawyer. Yes, this was all Mort's fault, not his. He had only been doing what needed to be done. I couldn't have known his mind would shatter like that. So it's up to me to see things through. And that doctor…she suspects me. I saw it in her eyes. She'll have to go too. . .
"Ted?"
Glancing down, he was surprised to find himself at Amy's beside. He had was unaware of how he'd gotten there, and unsure of how many sleeping pills were in her drink.
Not too many. I'd never hurt her. Never.
"Ted, are you alright?"
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, taking a seat next to her.
"Flatterer," she accused lightly as she took the mug of warm milk from him. He watched eagerly, admiring the way her throat moved as she swallowed the concoction. He loved her. Loved her more than anything.
"You'll always be mine, won't you?" Ted asked as she reappeared from behind the rim of the cup.
"Of course." This time her glance was curious. She wondered what had brought all of this on. The only thing she could think of was he was jealous; he had been amazingly attentive since they'd gotten home from the hospital.
She's lying. She's not mine now. She's his. His head pounded, but he still managed to say in a soft voice, "Finish up, honey." He watched as she drank the last of the milk. Watched her struggle against sleep as he took the mug from her limp hand. Watched her become increasingly alarmed.
"Ted?"
The hint of panic in her voice upset him. Didn't she know? Didn't she know he wouldn't ever hurt her. Not like Mort did. He was better.
"Shh. . ." He pressed her back into the pillows, unaware that his hands were bruising her shoulders. "Go to sleep, Amy."
"Wh-what did you do?" she gasped as she weakly struggled against him. Her weakness only scared her more; it crept over her, slowly but relentlessly tying her limbs down with exhaustion.
"You need to sleep, Amy," Ted patiently explained. "I can only make you stop caring about him if you go to sleep. Then you can stop lying –" He'd unknowingly tightened his grip on her shoulders, making her cry out in pain. But that's not what he took it to be. He took it to be denial. "Yes! Lying. You use him for an excuse. You have since the beginning. I only wanted to make you mind, but you wouldn't leave him! You wouldn't leave him." Her look of dawning horror was met by his confusion. "Couldn't you see how much I love you? Even after he hurt you though, you wouldn't leave him. Loyalty is good, but he doesn't deserve it. I do. But now I see that I have to leave you so I can take care of him so you'll love only me. And once you do, you'll never leave me either."
"Ted. . ."
"Shh. . . it'll be okay, Amy. We'll get married when I come back." Yes, that's a good idea. The sooner the better, then she'll be mine. "You'll like that, won't you, Amy? I'll make sure you do. I'll be a good husband. Better than he was. And you'll love me better than you love him. Won't you?"
"I don't know –"
"Liar! Slut!" Ted slapped Amy across the face then covered her mouth with his hand so she couldn't lie to him anymore. It made him mad, and he only wanted to be good to her. "Why aren't you asleep? I made you fall asleep! You're not awake. You're not. You can't be."
Having assured himself that Amy was indeed asleep and he was just imagining that she was awake, Ted got down to business. Leaving the bed, he went to the closet and pulled out a bag that had already seen much use, but he had to make sure that all his things were still there. The guard uniform he'd stolen from Briar Ridge – it helped him blend in with his surroundings night and day – a wig, a fake beard and mustache and glue to hold them on with. The most important items were at the bottom of the bag though, the weapons that still hadn't seen any use. No, the nightstick had, but the gun hadn't, nor the mace.
Tonight. I'll get as close to him as possible. Set him off. Wait for the bitch to come. Kill them both. Tonight. Mary Amy. Keep her for myself.
Reminded of the ultimate goal, Ted checked to make sure that Amy was still asleep. She had to be kept safe.
There were no tricks this time. She was asleep, pale and beautiful. Just like Sleeping Beauty. "I'll wake you with a kiss when I come back, my Sleeping Beauty. My princess. I just need to slay Grendel and his mother so they'll stop killing your love for me. Then we'll live happily ever after. Yes we will, Princess." With one last fond stroke to her pale, cool forehead, Ted left.
When she heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door, Carly just about lost her considerable nerve. Facing down self-destructive personalities, patients in the midst of panic attacks, and violent schizophrenics combined had nothing on this. She'd married her high school sweetheart for Pete's sake! She didn't know how to do this. There'd never been a reason for her to learn to.
"Why, Dr. Beckham. I was about to decide you weren't coming?"
"What are you talking about?" she demanded irritably as Lawley ushered her inside his home.
"Well, I don't know if anyone else had made a note of it or mentioned it, but you my dear doctor, are incredibly punctual and it is now 7:38. Thus my belief that I'd been stood up."
"You can't stand people up for a business meeting," she countered as he took her coat and hung it up.
"But you can stand people up for dinner, which coincidentally will be done in short order. Care to join me in the kitchen?"
"Is it a big kitchen?"
"Big enough. Why do you ask?"
"So I'll know that if you 'bump into me' whether it was planned or not. But if it is a big kitchen, I suppose there's no risk of that," Carly explained in a tartly sweet voice.
"Ah, cold logic which knows nothing passion's hot fire." He'd be cooking with fire if she gave him the slightest indication that she'd like to join him. It as the absence of her ever-present, all-encompassing white lab coat, he knew. But baby steps were clearly going to be a necessity if her behavior was any indication. She wasn't exactly relaxing in his presence. "After you."
She looked at him suspiciously, but walked down the short hallway to the kitchen all the same.
"What did you make?" Carly asked, looking around for the source of the admittedly delicious smells filling the . . . room. She lacked a better word for what seemed to be a combined kitchen and dining area.
"I didn't think you'd mind pizza." He cracked the oven open with a flourish to let her peek inside. Not that she needed to as the scents of basil, garlic, and tomato swirled around her.
"All this fuss is over take-n-bake?" she asked. "Something, I dare point out, that we could have had in more public surroundings."
"Bite your tongue. This is my mother's recipe. Her dough as well, in fact. It has a way of magically appearing in my freezer from time to time. She'd be appalled to hear that you thought take-n-back would be an equal to her cooking."
"Right. Are you sure this isn't DiGiorno's?" Carly studied the pizza with a critical eye.
"Rather than dig the mushroom stumps out of the trash, I'll let you taste it when it's done. Do you mind helping me set the table?"
"You mean you my tardiness didn't give you enough time to dig out your silver candlestick holders?"
"I'm a lawyer, not a miracle worker." When her shot her a wry grin, Carly actually smiled back.
Getting into the facility was a joke. Even though most of his visits had taken place during the night, no one was really on guard. What was the point? The really important personnel were gone for the day, except for the occasional doctor working in their office – if they were lucky enough to have one – and everyone else was gathered together in groups.
So in general, people were glad to see a security person patrolling the halls. They barely even looked at his face, just at the fact that he was armed and moving purposefully. Then they looked back down at their work and he had to keep from laughing at their gullibility.
Finally he reached the floor and wing where Mort's room was. The only difficultly he could see at this juncture was that all the patients had been locked in their rooms overnight since the first murder. But charming the night nurse out of the key to Mort's room was the work of a moment. It was pitiful really how easy it was going to be to get away with all this. Not that he minded. The sooner it was over with, the sooner he could take Amy away and they could start their life together.
Careful. He might recognize you. Go slowly. Keep it dark. You have to make him loose his sanity, not his temper. You can do this.
When he peeked through the window in Mort's door, Ted found that luck was with him. Mort was asleep, not awake and pacing the floor. Still, it would be foolish to be overconfident at this late date when everything he wanted was in his grasp.
He turned the key in the lock slowly, listening for any sort of noise that could give him away. There was nothing; whatever other deficiencies this hospital had, they obviously didn't skimp on WD-40. Why would they when something as simple as a squeaky hinge could set off a severe reaction in one of their patients?
Barely lifting his feet off the floor – funny how he was scared now that he was here and so close to be doing – he walked towards Mort's bed. The sight of his competitor's – yes! That was it. Everything was fair in love and war and this was both – his competitor's sleeping body filled him was righteous rage. That should be him, at home, with his wife. But it wasn't him, and he had no wife because Mort stubbornly refused to die. They'd see how long that would last.
Quickly he planted his weapons – nothing that would cause physical harm, but harm that was much more difficult to see or repair – and then left the room. He didn't have to be there for this part. The tiny speakers he'd planted would do the work for him. All he had to do was go down to his car, flip on the transmitter that would do the real work, then sit back and wait for the doctor to get there.
That's when things would really start.
It was too much. Nothing was working. Nothing that the doctor said would help was helping. How could she possibly think this wasn't real? That it was only in his head? He knew this was real. He did. He did.
You thought everything else was real too though. Until you saw Amy you thought that maybe you had done it. Done it all. Maybe she makes it easier to lie to yourself. Because normal people don't hear things like this. Do you think anyone else hears this?
But there wasn't anyone else around to ask. How could he know.
"I'm not crazy."
But then why are you here. This is a hospital for crazy people and you've been here for such a long time.
"I'm not crazy."
But that's what the whispering voices that attacked him from every corner of his room were saying.
"I'm not crazy!"
You did it, they said. You killed them. You're a murder. You're insane if you think you're not. You're insane if you think you are. That's no way for a man to live. No way for a man to think. They're lying to you. They all think you're crazy. They whisper behind your back and laugh and point and giggle. But they tell you you're not insane. And they laugh more when you believe it.
"No . . . they don't laugh."
She laughs. She toys with you. You're her pet. Her mad, rabid little pet. To insane to be among normal people, too dangerous to be let loose at night, too humorous to be put down. But you will be put down. She'll come in and lull you asleep, and then cut off your head and try to find what was wrong with it. And she'll remember how you trusted her and she'll laugh.
"No . . ."
She'll laugh and laugh. But you can stop her. Why was it that one voice made sense when the rest just mumbled nonsense? Kill her first. She'll come if you call her. So call her. And kill her. Kill her.
"No!" That part he remembered. Remembered in frightening detail. Remembered knowing he had to kill, remembered not being able to do so. Remembered something else coming to the fire and doing it. Remembered the feel of the screwdriver in his hand, how his muscles had moved as he'd raised it above his head and brought it down into defenseless flesh. The sickening feel of pulling it out.
It wasn't him, but it was a part of him, as was the terrified urge to do it again. To defend himself any way he had to. That's why Amy should have never come. She'd hurt him. Stabbed him in the gut. He hadn't wanted to want to avenge himself, to leave wounds as garishly visible as his had been unseen.
She'll cut off your head and put it in a jar, glasses and all. The rest of you will go in the garden. That's why she makes you go down there. She wants to see where you fit in the best. She'll make sure you can rot in comfort and peace. Don't let her. Strike first. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. . .
"Nooo!" Mort screamed, seeking out the voice. That was what he'd kill. But it wasn't real. So how could he kill it. But he needed to kill it.
"Where are you!" Books flew off their shelves, clothing was ripped to shreds, furniture was upended and thrown uselessly at the Plexiglas windows.
"Come out! Come out!"
His agonized wails set off the entire ward before the nurses could come. And even then they didn't know what to do. The key to his room was missing. They couldn't get it. Even if they could get in, they wouldn't know what to do.
Within moments of witnessing Mort's frenzy, the night nurse was on the phone, desperately trying to reach Dr. Carly Beckham.
"This is a transcript of the meeting?"
"No, it's a little something I whipped up for my creative writing class. Of course it's a transcription of the meeting." Carly rolled her eyes. She didn't think that Lawley believed she was trying to pass off "false goods." What she thought was he was disappointed that she'd actually come armed with file folders and a meeting agenda. He'd only reluctantly dug his own out of his briefcase when she'd pulled hers out and looked at him expectantly.
"Just double-checking," he said mildly. He didn't bother to look up from the transcript of the meeting between Mort and Amy. He'd done that once and caught Carly smirking at how easily he'd become caught up in work.
Ugh. Just the memory of that look was enough for him to set the papers down, sweep them all into a pile, and lean back on the couch. This was Friday night. He should have been at his game. He wasn't – not that there weren't compensations – but he'd be damned if he was going to work all night long. Especially when his companion was shooting him such a blissfully silent curious look.
"Tell me, Doctor, why do you think Rainey was so eager to see his ex-wife, yet seemed totally disinterested in anything but looking at her?"
Her look of curiosity at his actions melted into one of annoyance. "If you'd bothered to finish reading –"
"I'd rather hear it from you than read it for myself." That shut her up quickly, he noted. "Come now, this whole 'business meal' was your idea. And I provided the meal, so you get to provide the business. I'm yours to enlighten."
Right. . . She didn't doubt that she had his attention. His appearance however – the glint in his eye, the way the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, the way his hair was ruffled from . . . well, she didn't know what had done that – and the way he was so casually spread out as if he expected her to join him in the near future told her he wasn't really interested in work. Which was exactly why she took him up on his offer to "enlighten" him.
"As I detailed rather extensively at the end of the transcript," she said pointedly, "I believe that . . ."
Lawley didn't really listen to what Carly was saying. He believed her when she said that she'd meticulously recorded her observations and conclusions, so there was no pressing need to. All he'd really wanted was a chance to observe her. There was something about talking about psychology that made her light up – as corny as that sounded. It was as if the moment she was no longer the topic of discussion in any respect – even if she was simply being asked if the pizza was to her liking – she opened up. At times she even strayed close to waxing poetic about her profession.
"You have a nice voice when you're not using it to intimidate anyone," he interrupted.
It took a moment for Carly to process what he'd just said. ". . . thought he – what?"
"Your voice really is very pretty."
"I don't think that has anything to do with what we were just discussing, Counselor." Carly felt her cheeks heating, further proof of how flustered he made her with just a single comment.
"It has nothing to do with what you were talking about, but I decided to start a new conversation. Why won't you call me by my name?"
"You don't call me by mine."
"That is easily rectified, Carly."
"That wasn't an invitation!" she quickly clarified. "We're working together –"
"So you're not the least bit attracted to me."
"What?" Carly stared at him blankly. "This isn't a dating clinic. You're going to be prosecuting one of my patients. So what does my attraction to you have to do with anything?"
"So you are attracted to me." Lawley grinned as he pulled himself into an upright position.
Carly made an inarticulate sound of frustration and decided there was no point in trying to take the words back. She'd only embarrass herself further.
"Yes. I'd have to be blind to not notice that you are attractive. But neither of us are in a position to act on that attraction, not to mention I think you're quite possibly insane for finding –"
"Finding you attractive? I would have had to be blind," he murmured. "I'm used to arguing things out in a courtroom. Your own business-like self isn't going to make me think twice."
"That wasn't what I was going to say," she said, watching him cautiously now. Logically she knew he wasn't about to jump her bones, but he was also behaving rather illogically.
"Tell me what you were about to say."
"I was going to say that you're quite possibly insane for finding yourself wanting to act on your attraction."
"If you're trying to imply you're not good enough for me –"
"Ha!"
He grinned, having expected that very same argument to the suggestion that she wasn't good enough for anybody. "Then I see we're agree on that point."
"Just because I agree doesn't mean anything is going to happen," she warned. "I was serious about seeing this case through before we do anything. Even have another private business dinner."
"I'll consent to that only if you agree to start calling me by my first name when we're not in public," Lawley bargained quickly. "And if you'll considering meeting me for friendly lunches now and then. On weekends."
"Why?" she asked suspiciously.
"So I can get to know you better and vice versa." Did she really think he'd be content with anything else?
Carly considered the terms and decided that this was a very strange way to begin a courtship. It sounded more like a pre-nup. "I'll agree as long as we're going Dutch to these 'friendly lunches.'"
"Consider it a deal." Yet when Carly stuck out her hand to close the deal, he merely shook his head. "This isn't a business transaction, Carly."
The sound of her name was almost a shock. "But you said –"
Before she could protest or rehash everything they'd just discussed, Lawley leaned in and kissed her lightly.
Carly froze for a moment, then jerked away, watching him out of eyes that were suddenly the size of saucers. "Lawley –"
"Mick," he reminded her as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "We're on a first name basis now, if you'll recall."
"I remember that perfectly well. What I'm trying to remember is when we decided to start a physical relationship."
Her terminology made him chuckle. "You have a point. Very well, I'll keep my libidinous urges to myself for now on."
"I'd appreciate it," she replied slowly, not at all sure that she would.
"Then you should probably stop looking at me like that, otherwise I don't know if I'll be able to control myself." He leaned in and placed another soft kiss on her lips to prove his point. "In fact, you should probably –"
Deedlee-deedlee
"You should probably answer your phone."
They both sighed; while Carly got up to answer her cell phone, Lawley leaned back against the cough and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the feeling that he'd just lost ground. After all, it wasn't as if she'd slapped him for the privilege.
"I'll be right there."
On the other hand, he thought sarcastically, a feeling he lost when he turned his head to look at Carly's face. "What's wrong?"
"I have to get to the hospital. Mort's having an episode."
"An episode of what?" Lawley stood and retrieved her coat while Carly slipped her shoes back on.
"I don't know. But he hasn't had one of any kind in months. Something's wrong."
"Could it be a delayed reaction –"
"To seeing Amy?" Carly asked as she slipped into her coat. "No. I don't think so. I have a very bad feeling about this, in fact."
"How bad?"
"Bad enough to make me wonder why this is happening, though I'd do that anyway. It just feels like there's pieces missing. Something doesn't add up."
"Should I come with you?"
"No . . . no, I don't think that will be necessary. This is doctor stuff, not lawyer stuff."
She had a point. "Alright then. I'd tell you to be careful, but something tells me you're never careful when it comes to your patients."
"And you said you needed to know me better," she teased as she fished her keys out of her purse. "Thank you for dinner . . . Mick." She colored a little as if his name was either embarrassing or incredibly intimate. "I'll contact your office if we're going to have to delay that meeting." With another shy smile, she'd left the apartment, leaving Lawley to turn his attentions to a pile of dirty dishes.
Almost before her car stopped rolling, Carly found herself with a security guard at her side.
"What's going on?" she asked as he helped her out of the car.
"We think the patient's armed."
"What!" The unusual briskness on the part of the guard – a man she thought was familiar but she couldn't name – made sudden sense. Not that what he was saying made sense, but his air of tension did. "How on earth could Rainey be armed? He has no visitors other than hospital staff." Well, there was Amy, but Carly had always been present for those meetings since she'd taken the case on. And Steve certainly wouldn't have let anyone bearing the proverbial file in the birthday cake anywhere near his vicinity.
"We're not sure, but there was a shot fired about two minutes ago –"
"Oh my god," Carly breathed before breaking into a run. She cursed the fact that she didn't have sneakers on – which she would have if she hadn't given in to Lawley's invitation to dinner because she would have been at home in her sweats – and had to slow her pace when she slipped on the slick tile of the hospital's lobby.
Foregoing the elevator in her need for haste, Carly slammed open the door to the stairs and started up. The pounding of the guard's feet behind her only registered slightly; most of her focus was saved for Mort and what was going on in his room.
Bursting onto the second floor and startling a group of nearby nurses, Carly charged towards the wing where Mort's room was –
She stopped abruptly when a mountain of a man stepped in front of her. "I'm sorry, but you can't come any closer, ma'am."
"I'm his doctor." Carly fumbled for her ID tag, finally pulling it back. "You people called me –"
"That was before we knew there was a weapon involved."
"I don't see what difference it makes," she snapped, trying not to lose any more breath to her anger. "I'm still his doctor and the most likely person to talk him down. Now, has anyone been hurt?"
"No," the guard said reluctantly. "When our men and a few orderlies tried to get close, Rainey fired his weapon into the ceiling. But from the way he's hollerin' on about conspiracies and voices and plots against his sanity, I can't ensure your safety."
"That's fine." Carly tried to step around him and was once again stopped.
"I'm afraid it isn't. If you are determined to go into Rainey's room –"
"I am."
The look he gave her was chock full of frustration, but he didn't try to contradict her. "If you're determined to go into Rainey's room, I must insist that you put on a Kevlar vest first."
"Fine, fine." Couldn't he see that time was of the essence in this? "Where is it?"
Faster than she would have believed possible considering the way the guard had been dragging his feet, Carly found herself wearing a rather uncomfortable piece of body armor. Accompanied by the man who'd met her at her car, she walked towards Mort's room. She winced as she heard his raspy voice screaming for silence. Whatever was wrong probably wasn't something simple enough for her to solve in a single night. Her best hope was to sedate him and then try to talk to him in the morning when he should have calmed down.
"Don't come in with me," she told the guard over her shoulder. "The sight of you will just agitate him further. That is extremely undesirable at the moment."
"You don't have to tell me twice."
Again Carly was struck by the familiarity of this man, but didn't have time to ponder it further. They were at Mort's door.
Touching the doorknob with suddenly trembling hands, Carly took a deep breath then unlocked the door and entered the room. It was a mess, a mass of displaced belonging and darkness. She couldn't see Mort, couldn't hear him. He'd fallen silent the moment the light from the hallway had poured into his room.
"Mort?" she asked cautiously as she felt around her with one foot, watching out for anything that might hurt to step on. "Mort, are you alright?" Her hand tightened around the injection gun in her left hand.
"G-go away." The raspy voice came from her right, from near the uncovered window. The night was cloudy; any light that might had been produced by the moon was useless to her eyes.
"It's Dr. Beckham, Mort." She could hear him whispering to himself in the hush that met this sally. "I need to know if you're hurt, Mort."
"Go away!" Light flared and a harsh sound assaulted her ears as she dropped down into a crouch. Something nearby shattered as it was struck by her bullet. Part of her mind noted that either he was the worst shot around, or he hadn't really been trying to hurt her. The rest of her attention flew to the door to ensure that no one came rushing to her aid. If he had simply been trying to make her leave and could hit what he aimed at, someone standing with their back to the light would present a target he couldn't miss.
"I know you're scared, Mort," she said softly once her ears had stopped ringing. "Can you tell me why?"
"I'll kill you."
His voice was flat. Her skin shuddered in fear, sending waves of goosebumps across her flesh. He believed what he said completely. "You're scared that you'll kill me?"
"Yes." A hint of agony seeped in.
"You don't have to be scared of that, Mort," she tried to convince him as she worked her way towards him, keeping close to the floor. "You could have killed me just now and you didn't."
"They want me too," he said dully. "I hear them. Can't get them out of my head. I don't want to do it. They want me to do it. Friction wearing away at me until I snap either way."
"If you give me the gun, you won't have to be afraid anymore, Mort. You won't be able to hurt me." Well, he could probably do a whole lot of damage with his bare hands, but she should be able to sedate him before he could.
"You'll shoot me."
"I won't shoot you," Carly tried to assure him even as she was privately shocked that he'd think such a thing. But that was the definition of insanity, wasn't it? Having absolute faith in a reality that couldn't be true? "Just give me the gun." Her right hand brushed against the leg of his pajama pants and she quickly pulled it back. She didn't want to scare him.
"I-I don't know."
"I do know. I know that you need to give me the gun before either one of us gets hurt, alright?"
He didn't speak, didn't move for a long time. "Okay," he whispered.
Carly's heart stilled as the gun pointed her way, the metal glinting dully, before lowering towards the floor . . .
"Doctor? Are you alright?"
Shit! Both Mort's and Carly's attention snapped to the open door. The guard from the parking lot stood here. Mort tensed visibly and Carly acted, reaching for the gun before anything could happen . . .
"Nooo!" Betrayal, fear, and suspicion rang in Mort's voice as he punched out at Carly. His fist caught her in the temple and sent an explosion of white stars and pain through her head. Then, before she could defend herself, he wrapped an arm around her throat and surged to her feet, pulling her with him.
"It's you. It's always been you."
Author's Thanks: to all my lovely readers, including Spoofmaster (as you can probably see now, I had a very good reason to make Ted unreasonable in the last chapter. In the movie he seemed on edge a good bit of the time, and I liked that. Of course, I didn't know until this chapter who our bad guy was. I'm such a procrastinator. :P); Honorat (Tension is a great thing. As for the state of Ted and Amy's relationship, I'm a firm believer that adultery shouldn't be rewarded, so I guess why they're not couple of the year material. :D Lawley is fun to play with because he's…he's an emotional kind a guy. I'm not sure if that fits in with my usual view of a lawyer, so it was fun to make him that way.); Mayorst (Gotta have a little somethin'-somethin' going on over dinner. Who knows, they might never see each other again. I don't think that will happen, but then again, I hadn't made up my mind as to who was responsible for all this until Monday.); BB (I used your sister's personality? That's great. She can claim it. I've already claimed that I own nothing. :P How's school going for you?); Mirriam Q Webster (It is hard to write insights into Mort's mind – for me at least – without becoming repetitive. And while there is a literary tradition of using repetitiveness to emphasize a point, that usually is only in poetry. :P Hope this chapter is as good as the last ones.); tinkthefairy (You're right. It is Ted. I swear, at different times while I've been writing this, the miscreant has been every single member of my male cast, and at one time, Amy herself. It's insane. It's a miracle I made it this far.); Dawnie-7 (Ted is very sneaky. Takes a sneaky man to sneak around with another man's wife. Ha!); Lynx (I loved that line about Ted being a horse's ass. It still makes me chuckle. The last chapter was a lot of fun to write, but this one was more fun. :D); Blue Autumn Sky (an SN is a screen name. So your "Blue Autumn Sky" nickname is very apropos for the season. ;) Yes, Mort wasn't in the last chapter much, but he'll be making up for it in this chapter and the next. Lots and lots of good clean fun. :D); Willy Abberline (Here's the "more" that you wanted. -); Stahlfan125 (Lawley has it bad, I'm afraid, but knows that Carly doesn't, so he's a little insecure. As for Ted…well, I think we've answered what's up with him. ;D); Charlie Quill (I'm excited to see how I end this. I just thought up a new ending as I was sitting here writing my thank you's. How crazy is that?); websurffer(I hope your bronchitis is better. :( I'm glad you went and saw a doctor.); AndromedaStarr (yes, it's almost over. Two more chapters and a prologue at the most left I think. These things can be hard to gauge though.); Rogue-Pirate (Let me just say that reading all your reviews last week really made my week and got me to get my butt in gear to update. I don't think you ever have to worry about rambling, since I'm a rambler myself and since you do it so very well. Very entertaining. - Here's that chapter you got me to write. :P)