Hello everybody,

I hope this chapter sheds more light on what is going on...

Enjoy your reading,

Pavs.


Chapter three:


Tool frowned as he entered the apartment. It looked empty, apart from a pile of boxes in the corner of the living room, an old couch, a buzzing fridge and a built-in oven. He could see the only bedroom from where he was standing.

It was small and a bit aged, but clean and practical. He guessed that somebody could easily live there alone. He noticed a military sleeping bag on an otherwise empty mattress. A duffle bag with a name that couldn't quite be read on it and that still had tags from Vietnam. She noticed him staring and turned to face him fully.

"It isn't my apartment . . . wasn't." She told him in half a whisper and he nodded, not wanting to pry.

Well, that wasn't true. He wanted to, but was unwilling to lose her trust, for some reason he couldn't quite explain to himself. She went to retrieve her sleeping bag and felt it slip from her fingers as a sharp pain ran through her forearms. He watched her swear as she helplessly looked at it falling onto the ground. She looked at him and laughed.

"Well, I was about to take that to the couch, but I guess I'll sleep on the floor instead." She said as the laughter morphed into tears.

She couldn't even fucking make her bed. What the fuck was she doing alive?

Tool hurried to her side and took her into his arms as she started sobbing, telling how sorry she was again and again. He took her in his arms in a swift move and put her onto the bed. He went to let her go, only to have her pulled as much as she could on his shirt.

He felt a lump in his throat, and kicked off his boots as he lay down beside her. He cried too as her pain seemed to reach out to his very dark soul, before they eventually both fell asleep.

.

She woke up to the sound of a ringtone that wasn't hers. She then noticed that she wasn't alone and that the heat didn't come from her sleeping bag, but from strong arms and a chest that she now realized was rising at an unsteady pace. She looked up to see Tool frown in his sleep.

"Hey" She half-whispered and the man opened his eyes, letting his confusion show for a moment before he smiled a bit at her.

"Hey." He replied, noticing that she didn't seem to move out of his arms.

Then he noted that he didn't move either.

"Someone's been calling you." She said and Tool reached out behind him to take his phone.

Fifteen missed calls from Barney and Lee.

"Seems, so." He replied with a frown and she offered him a shy smile.

"I won't be offended if you reply. I need to go take my meds." She said and he nodded before he finally let her go.

He was about to call Barney back when he noticed her looking at her bag from the hospital with a frustrated look.

"Do you want me to. . ." He began and she nodded, so he went to retrieve the bag and looked in it for the pills, making sure to put the right ones in her hand before going to get her a glass of water.

She followed him into the kitchen and managed to take a sip of water big enough to take her meds in one go. Tool looked at her shaking hands and felt a pang of sadness for her, although he did his best not to show it. He had a feeling that pity was the very last thing she wanted.

June looked at him take her glass of water to put it back in the sink as his cellphone rang once again. She could see the words "Barney Ross" on his screen and frowned. She'd heard the name somewhere; she was sure of it.

"Thank you." She said, turning to Tool as the man nodded. " I don't mean to be rude, but why are you helping me?"

Tool looked at her intently as he struggled to come up with a good answer. There were too many to choose from. His refusal to let someone die on his watch, his comprehension of her pain, his own PTSD, and the most confusing of them all, the cold and empty feeling he got any time he remembered her cold and unmoving on the docks. Even more troubling than that, how tragically beautiful he'd thought she was under the moonlight before he'd noticed the blood pouring from her arms.

She kept looking at him straight in the eyes until he reached out for his shirt sleeve and pulled it so she could see an unfinished number, blemished by time and life itself. A number that he could've covered up, but chose not to. He'd kept it as a reminder of why he should never go dark. June felt her whole body tense as air left her lungs. She could see the pain in Tool's eyes as she felt her tears coming back.

"I am so sorry." She whispered to him as she remembered the way he'd looked at her bag the night before, as she noticed his old dog tags around his neck, blending themselves with his other jewelry.

She carefully put her hand on his and he sighed while his hands shook a little. Then she saw the bottom of a very familiar tattoo on his other arms and her breathing seemed to speed up.

Tool

Barney Ross

She closed her eyes in an effort to calm herself before the pain would come back tenfold. They were his friends. The very same ones he'd told her about before she'd been forced to come back to America. Before she'd decided that she'd face her brother first, as her guilt about her family seemed to be the lesser evil of both of her biggest regrets. It had appeared that that regret had died too because she hadn't been able to deal with it right. What a small bloody world.

Tool looked at her as her eyes became watery and as her shaking became worse than his own. Then his phone rang again and he knew he couldn't ignore it. He went to squeeze her hand but saw her get up instead, running to the bathroom to throw up what little she had had to eat at the hospital.

He followed after her, pulling her hairs gently as she cried from all the pain, she was in. She finally stopped and he reached out for a towel. The phone had stopped ringing, steps could be heard from outside the door.

"Stop helping me." She croaked; her throat raw from the acid she just vomited. "You don't want to help me."

"June. . ."Tool began as he felt his heart break for her.

He was interrupted by the door being forced open by Barney. Both of them turned to see Ross being followed by Lee, Toll and Caesar.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Tool asked a bit in shock, noticing they were wearing their full gears, as June barely managed to get up to face what was left of her biggest regret.

"I told you not to help me." June had said at the same time and Tool turned to her with worry and confusion in his eyes.

"Why?" Tool asked in a small voice as he noticed the weapons drawn and pointing at her.

But she didn't look at him as tears were rolling down her cheeks. She looked straight into Barney's eyes feeling the heaviness of the words deformed by the now thorn, humid piece of paper still in her back pocket.

But she didn't apologize. She knew nothing even remotely constructive would come out of it. Instead, she whispered the truth, feeling as if she was screaming it so loud that it echoed against the walls of her broken heart.

" I killed John Booker." She said with a pained voice as Tool felt the blood drain from his face. " I killed him and I had nowhere else to go."