Blood: 6

Drowning

Rose relaxed, staring up at the condensation-spotted tiles of her bathroom ceiling. The gentle lapping of the bathwater against her sides was bliss. Nothing mattered right then – not her job, not her fiancée, the dog hair on her new carpet, nothing. Stretching one long leg up towards the air vent on the wall, she breathed a deep sigh. A long, hot bath had been her sole dream for the past few hours, and now that she had it, her mind desired nothing.

The mist-drenched silence was heavenly, the thick nothingness occasionally sliced through by the gentle drip, drip of the hot water tap. She had a mind to stay there forever, forgetting that the water would get cold and force her to leave by necessity. There was still time to enjoy her bath she told herself, taking a deep breath and sliding under the warm water. The warm caress of the water on her skin brought welcome relief from daily stress, enticing her to give in to a sweet surrender and just fall asleep where she was-

Her train of thought was cut off dead by the sudden feeling of hands around her neck, forcing her head down against the bottom of the bathtub. She struggled, her hands searching for a grip on something, anything that could bring back her wonderful quiet. Her conscious thought fought through her fear, forcing home the realisation that she was fast running out of air. One of those hands was on her face now, forcing her cheek down against the warm enamel.

Calming her frightened mind to an extent, Rose realised that she would die if she did not fight back. Impulsively she struck out with one leg, finding nothing but the crack of her heel against the hot tap. Gasping in pain, she coughed, watching in despair as the last of her air floated to the surface in a bubble. Her mystery attacker said nothing, his job nearly done as her desperate struggling began to subside.

Rose still fought for air, finding none in the suffocating surround of her relaxing bath water. Terrified, she felt around, her hand finding the fabric of her murderer's shirt, twisting her fingers up in it and attempting to pull herself out. The hand moved from her face then, to her own hand, trying gently to untangle her long fingers. The gentleness of the touch…. Did this person know her? Rage rose inside of her at that thought, driving her free hand up out of the water to the enamel shelf behind her, fingers searching frantically for an object of assistance. Flinching suddenly as her fingers came into contact with something sharp, Rose bit her tongue, closing her hand around the painful object and slashing it down her attacker's wrist. The hand moved from her neck, Rose taking advantage of this freedom and pulling herself up out of the water.

Choking for breath, she snatched her attacker's wrist and drew the razor blade up it, discarding her weapon and thrusting his wrist down into the warm, soapy water and holding it there with one hand and one foot. In a panic, he gripped the side of the bath, bracing himself against it to pull his wrist out before he bled to death. Rose would not allow that, grabbing his uninjured wrist and wrenching his arm around behind his head to hold it there. She said nothing as she stood there, still purging all the water she could from her lungs. The would-be murderer said nothing either, still concentrating on trying to get his wrist out of the water.

She did know him. They had spent many an evening together with Leroy, her fiancé. His name was Alex, and he was a college friend of Leroy's. After several excruciating minutes, Alex fell to his knees, hitting his head on the side of the bathtub. Rose released his wrist then, stepping out of the bath and slowly reaching for the wall. Her mind turned somersaults as she struggled to work out why someone she knew would want her dead. Reaching for a towel, she pressed it to her cold body as a shield against the terror of what had just happened.

She had nearly been murdered in her own home, the one place where she was supposed to be safe. Dropping the towel, she snatched the razor from the floor tiles; Pulled Alex's head back and drew the blade across his neck. She would never find out why from him now, but that was no bother. She snapped out of it, grabbing the towel and rubbing feverishly at the blood on her arms and legs. This task complete, she collapsed against the door, sliding down to sit, rubbing her arms against the chill of memory. Nestling her head between her arms, she sobbed quietly to herself. This had been too much….

"So it's done then?" Leroy queried, hearing the bathroom door close. The lack of an answer was no worry to him. It was just an assumption, but his associate was probably a bit out of sorts after what he had just done. "Put up a fight? Actually, don't tell me. I don't really want to know." Silence. "Not worth worrying about." He murmured dismissively, picking up the remote and changing the T.V channel. A laminated Shinra ID card landed on the coffee table in front of him. Wrinkling his nose in distaste at the wet blood splashed across the shiny plastic surface, he picked it up between two fingers and examined it carefully.

"Manufacturing department in administrative research? She was a Turk?" This was a surprise. He had always thought that she was a secretary. The dull clicking behind froze his blood.

"Is." Rose muttered bitterly. Leroy turned in his chair, the blood draining from his face to see her there. Rose stared back at him, her green eyes narrowed threateningly on his own brown eyes, clutching a towel to her chest.

"Rose."

"Why do you want me dead Leroy?" She asked, rose-engraved peacemaker trained on his head.

"It was nothing personal, Rose. I just…. Felt trapped."

"Most people just break it off."

He made no answer, lowering his eyes away from her to read the numbers on the television remote. "You're a weak excuse for a human being, Leroy." She murmured, "I suppose you're too much of a chicken to just say it to my face. It's not a long sentence really. 'It's over'. Would that have hurt you so much?" Still no answer. "I should have been waiting for this."

"Where's Alex?"

"Bleeding his all on my bathroom floor. Guess what I'm going to be doing tonight."

"Cleaning?" She smiled, giving a small nod,

"Sharp cookie." Throwing a glance at the door, "Now get out before you join him."

Leroy did not need to be told twice, springing out of his chair and throwing the front door open. "If you want your stuff then you're welcome to go through the incinerator on Monday." With that, she kicked the door shut and crossed the room back to Leroy's favourite chair. Nobody but him was allowed to sit in that chair, so Rose dropped her peacemaker on the sofa and collapsed in the chair, throwing one leg over the arm and staring up at the ceiling. She should have been sad. Four years together, and now she was all on her own, in her apartment, while poor Leroy had no place to call home. Maybe she should cry for him? But what was the point when tears could be much more useful hydrating your body?

She looked down, feeling something cold and wet on her arm. Muffin stood there, wagging his golden retriever tail, holding one of Leroy's shoes in his mouth. "How sweet." Rose smiled, taking the patent leather shoe from her dog, "It's one of his good ones too." Turning it over and over in her hand, she was suddenly overcome by a feeling of great generosity, "You're the man of the house now, Muffin, and the man of the house should have a good pair of shoes, so here you go." And handed it back to him.

The already happy dog was overjoyed with his present, sliding his big paws across the carpet to lie down and start loving his new toy with his teeth. Rose watched him a little while, smiling to see that he was so happy. Leroy had always disliked Muffin. Mainly because his efforts in teaching the dog to fetch his slippers had taken a U turn and always ended up with Muffin taking the slippers away again.

She did have to hope that Reno would decide against bringing her a commiserations basket. Evan still had the one Reno had given him, and the contents were colourful to say the least. The old Turk had considered re-addressing it for the Shinra narcotics lab, but realised that it was a sweet gesture from the red head after all. So here she was with her mind back on work again. She had a bad day ahead of her tomorrow, and one of her pistols was in the shop. That meant resorting to the heavier, less versatile Outsider, sitting quietly on top of her wardrobe. Though it was more powerful, she preferred her custom peacemakers. They gave some much-desired class to their tasks, and were a nice reminder of someone she once loved very much,

'I may be your superior, but that doesn't change the fact that we're friends, and…. Other things. Nothing can change that.'

Rose shook her head clear. She missed him, so very much. There were other things to be considered now, like what she was going to have for dinner, and when she was going to get around to glycerinating her hip holster. Muffin would need his dinner too. One shoe was not nearly enough for an active dog. Though he may make short work of the other one…. She ought to get a move on and get things done. Then she could collapse for the evening.

(Note: Not very long, and quite fast, but you get the idea, right? Leroy's a nasty piece of work, and yes, his reason is weak, but don't you get the feeling he's not telling the whole truth? He was originally a nice guy, and the two of them stayed together, but my boyfriend read it and took an instant dislike to him, so I switched things around a little for him and found it worked better this way. Such is life.)