Chapter 6 – Casey Takes a Break
A.N.: Disclaimers in Chapter 1. This is a quick little snippet, but Casey wanted to bask in his accomplishments. Too bad the Ring had other plans...
Casey stalks purposefully through the main room and down the hall to the holding cell Roark is occupying. (They should be getting married right about now). The air of satisfaction wafts around and before him like a red carpet, carrying him through Castle like a king. (Take that, Fulcrum. Can't stop Team Bartowski.)
Casey examines the man sitting in the cell with his head hanging down. (So much for your grand plan, moron. You're gonna be worrying about a whole different type of hard drive for a long time...) He turns to Miles. "Watch him." Miles nods with cold eyes. Casey indulges himself with a small smile as he walks away. (Guess Miles isn't a fan either.)
He walks down the hallway back to the rest of his men. (Few hands of poker, a good cigar...After all that sissy lady feeling planning, gotta make sure my men know I'm still badass. Freaking Bartowskis.) The satisfaction settles into his bones as he sees them sitting at the table waiting for him, and takes his seat, his deck of cards, and his cigar. "All right, ladies, ante up! Texas Hold 'Em. Smoke 'em if you got 'em." Casey shuffles the deck adeptly, dealing hands quickly as his men all settle in. (Now this is living. This fits. Much better than those BuyMorons.) He grunts a thank you as one of his men pours him a scotch.
He spares an absent thought for Bartowski and Ellie. Chuck had tried to convince him to come to the wedding, but weddings weren't the Colonel's deal. "Job's not done until we turn Roarke over," he'd said, cutting off the nerd's protestations. "But thanks."
He refuses to consider that the prospect of having to say goodbye for good kept him away.
He tunes back into the game with a puff of his cigar. (No babbling geek, no pining glances, no lady feelings.) He throws in another 100 as he takes another draw of the cigar. (No having to think about losing people who care about you, no missing homemade apple pie…Damn it!) He growls low in his throat at the turn his thoughts had taken and calls the hand.
"Straight flush, losers. Fork those chips over here." (This is the life. Hard living, tough men, gun play. No soft California lifestyle for me.) He smiles a predatory smile around the cigar as he organizes his winnings and deals another hand. "What was that crap you were talking about secondhand smoke? 300." He tosses the chips in.
Casey pauses for a moment as footsteps approach, and isn't surprised when he hears Miles' voice. "Sir, Roark wants to talk to you," he says.
Casey looks at his men, smiles and scoffs. "Watch my cards," he says to Miles, calling over his shoulder, "Watch Barber, he cheats!" He rounds the corner and starts, "I don't give a fu-- " (Not right. Not right.) Casey draws his gun and advances slowly. He moves into the holding cell to see Roark slumped over, and as he checks for a pulse he hears shots fired in the other room.
The zip of the silencer, once, twice, two more in quick succession, and once more.
(Goddamn it.) He leaves Roark's body and carefully proceeds down the hall back to the main room of Castle. (Where are you, you little…) He sees his men slumped on the table, chips scattered. (Damn you, son of a -- ) He breathes deeply in and out, his nostrils flaring like a racehorse's. (I said where the hell are --)
Casey's instincts react an instant before he consciously registers he's not alone, but it's enough that the blunt hit is applied to his shoulder instead of his head. It knocks him to his knees and he takes advantage to make a move for his gun.
"Don't!" Miles warns. "Sorry, sir. We've been through a lot."
(Apparently you've been through more than I thought, you traitor.) "How long have you been Fulcrum?" Casey growls bitterly. (Sure as hell better not have been on my watch.)
"I'm not with Fulcrum," Miles answers.
(You're not with me either, you goddamn disgrace.) "Go ahead and pull the trigger, I don't want to look at your face, you just killed three Marines in cold blood." (And I hope they hunt you down like the dog you are and torture your ass to death.)
"Yeah…But none of them saved my life."
As the rage rises in his throat he has a brief moment of clarity and uncharacteristic fear. (If Miles isn't Fulcrum, it's not over, and no one will catch Bartows--)
Miles' aim is true this time, and Casey's thoughts abruptly go black.
A.N.: Yeah I ended it like that. He blacked out! Can't really have much of a point of view when he's unconscious. ;) Not entirely sure if I'm satisfied with this bit, reviews please?? Fluff will return in the next chapter, for a while anyway, with the reception...