| Subject: Chapter 219 - Part 2 (16 and above) (end of chapter 219) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Wednesday, November 30, 07:08:18am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark (203 > )" on Monday, October 03, 07:35:40am
He was the one who answered, then, leaving her to her angry horror--his body sliding its way slightly in front of her, denying the protection she had tried to give. "He doesn't think I'm good enough for her." His sigh was quiet. And he wasn't. But, then again, no man who had ever taken on human form could come close to deserving her love.
She could feel this emotion in him, knew it was stronger now than ever before--and felt increasingly insane with the change, the night's multiple traumas beginning to overload her senses. Even as Roger asked, "Why?" she stared at her husband, almost wanting to ignore their assailant if it would allow her to talk to this man she loved, her heart beating fast. She just couldn't bear it, if he turned away from her now.
Her thoughts were definitely scattered--her emotions so in turmoil from the ongoing horror of the night that she had no clear way to process anything anymore. Fain had to repeat his question, before either of them really heard it--Nikita finally answering over her husband's disgusted look. "Because I was his lover first." She glanced back to their supposed guard quickly. "And the fact that it was my decision is neither of your damn business."
The couple's deep gaze continued again, the gunman left to shake his head at all this information--a thousand thoughts at war. Why the monster who was threatening him would give a damn about this fact was a little beyond him. True, if he had had a daughter, his attitude might be different, but pretty much every woman was less than worthy of her white wedding dress these days. Especially in this town, finding a virgin over the age of--maybe--17 was somewhat akin to trying to find enough water for the city in the old days of Hollywood; you had to go for hours and then finally steal it. His head shook. It really made no sense.
He couldn't quite fathom this, was just staring at the pair. It wasn't like the man had just been using her--their currently married status, their obvious devotion to one another, an absolute anomaly among lovers in this town. He didn't get it. Whatever their original acts with each other, Kitty was definitely the sort of girl you married. No amount of premarital friskiness could change any sane man's mind about that.
All these truths rolled through him now, astounding him all the further at the man who was so cruelly forcing him to be his goon. But what got to him the most was the fact that everything he saw about this woman only grabbed him further. Although, externally, she usually projected a kind of innocent joy, she was all fire and grit underneath. It was a deadly combination, to nearly any man; he had to force himself to hold the gun steady. And the fact that he might be forced to separate her from her husband for good just didn't seem fair to anyone now.
The pair's deep look continued, some intangible conversation carried on between them--the type no one but they could ever truly understand. But he was coming to realize one fact. He was in love with this woman, wanted her for himself; there was nearly a growl. And there was no damn way on earth that he could ever have her now.
Roger, fortunately, wasn't like Hillinger--or many another man in this town. He didn't try to take what he wanted, had no interest in what had to be conquered first. His one wife he had charmed purely by listening to her and being himself; that it hadn't lasted didn't surprise him, the beautiful woman on another level entirely, in every way that could be named. He had just been pleased when she had decided to keep their unborn child, when they had gotten divorced, didn't even mind that her new husband--the one who had been her childhood friend--was now his son's father in name. How Jones had even come to find out about it he was uncertain--supposing it must have come out of the veiled gossip that always circulated around his wife's high class, an after-dinner gathering of women apparently the place where all rumor was born. Oh, they were polite about it, could stab in the knife with only a minimum of external blood. But they were all the deadlier for that.
It was all of these truths which had assured that his days with his wife and her circle were doomed to be numbered, no one from the outside ever allowed in for long. But still she had kept his child, had kept at least a distant sort of contact with him. Kyle might have no idea of who his real father was, but she went out of her way to inform her ex-husband of the boy's various achievements. Even with the permanency of their separation, she didn't exclude him. And, even if he hadn't still loved her, he would have been grateful for this alone.
All of these truths only played into his feelings now, into his lingering affection for the woman whose husband he now threatened. It was no new news to him that he was incapable of having the woman he wanted; he never had--his marriage only a kind of brief, waking dream. But that he might be the one to forever separate this one from the man she clearly loved . . .
He couldn't take this fact, considered for an instant simply putting the gun to his own head. True, such an act alone couldn't protect his child, but if this woman were Jones's daughter . . .
He was ready to take a gamble on his plan, realizing further by the second that he simply couldn't kill either of this pair--couldn't hurt this woman in any other way. His voice got her attention, the thoughts flashing by far more rapidly than he had realized. "Kitty." She looked back to him, eyes half-hate and half-pleading; he didn't blame her for the first part, at least. "Could you see to my son's safety?"
He had interrupted a brief, unspoken conversation by the pair--their plan terrible but seemingly agreed on, all of it swirling in Nikita's thoughts. While she had been half-hoping that Jamie might come back to consciousness, might overpower this man to then leave as he had originally planned, that didn't seem to be happening. Desperate actions would have to be taken; her hand tightened in her husband's. Both of them clearly understood their inevitable path, if it didn't work out.
It only took a second for the woman to see Fain's change of heart, however--making the pair's near-suicide pact hopefully unnecessary. Still . . .
Lord. Her eyes widened--not knowing what to say. Even if this man killed himself, even if she could allow herself to just sit by and let him do it, she had no pull with her father, never had; there was nearly a snort. How could anyone ever believe she did, when the man was trying to kill her own husband?
Still, she saw what their ex-guard wanted, and knew, in a terrible moment, that it might be their only way out. But she couldn't lie to him--refused to gamble with an innocent child's life, whatever their current peril. "I . . .," she started.
Michael had to interrupt, knowing she couldn't go through with it. He had made a decision in these last few moments, after all, knew what had to be done--he and his beloved getting quite different messages from their silent discussion. He had been utterly unsuccessful in protecting the woman up to now, but there was no way that was going to continue; his eyes were steely. If he had to sacrifice himself, so be it. Neither Nikita nor her morals were going to suffer tonight.
He was just about to offer himself up, was going to ensure that she lived. But, fortunately, he never got the chance to utter the thought--to horrify his beloved with his fatalistic abandonment of her--the phone ringing. It startled them--but it was the final turn of events the night had planned for them all.
All eyes cut to it, as it rang twice before falling silent; Roger had to wonder whether they could hear his beating heart, when the phone began ringing again a second later. "Answer it," he said to the woman. He was more than aware of who this would be.
Michael was about to protest, desperate to do *something* to look after his wife now. Still, Fain's gaze was strong, telling the man what he needed to know; his eyes narrowed, but he nodded to her, letting her go to it. It would provide their final answer. All or none of them might die tonight.
Nikita understood, hating all of this, as she finally picked the receiver up. She managed to make her voice sound almost normal in her, "Hello?" not really wanting to give her wretched father any thrill at hearing her shock and sorrow. Whatever he had engineered here, her emotions weren't any of his damn business.
Her hand was shaky, but Jones couldn't know it from her tone; it was only years of dealing with the visibly distressed which even told him how very disturbed she was. He got right to the point. "Ah, Nikita. I believe Mr. Fain is there?" He heard a vague noise of agreement. "Let me speak to him, please."
She did, holding the phone out to him, and he sighed heavily, gun motioning them away from their place near it, as he came to pick the receiver up. But their journey off the bed took them past the glazed, wide eyes of the gunman who only half an hour or so ago had been trying to make Nikita his victim; she had to repress her cry, not realizing before that Michael had been using his body to shield her from the sight. It only made her feel that much closer to falling apart now--starting to actively shake her--her husband's arms tight around her, as she tried not to be sick at the revolting image on their bedroom floor. She could only hope the night would still end with all of them unharmed. Because she damn well didn't want this to be the last sight she carried with her to the grave.
Fain could see her increasing distress, didn't blame her for it; his ex-wife, as lovely as she was, would have fainted long ago. Still, he kept the gun on her, as he answered. "Yes." All he could do was wait to see where this went.
The tension in the room was destroying every conscious person there--but Jones's tone seemed not to even notice that anything might be amiss. "Ah, Mr. Fain. I take it that your visitors are no longer there?"
The coded conversation was, of course, a way to throw off any operator who might be listening in. Although such a woman could easily be taken care of, it was much simpler not to need to. Jones had all his resources already placed where they were far more useful to him.
Roger understood all of this--as much as the man's motives disgusted him--answering as best he could. "Mr. Hill--." He was stopped by a clearing of the throat by his wretched blackmailer, didn't press further, "is . . . gone. And I'm afraid our other guest has passed out."
This made the situation quite clear to the businessman--made him quite pleased, in fact, taking all of it to have been the work of his wretched son-in-law. It almost made him not loathe the man quite so seriously. "Yes, that will happen at such a party." He moved on. "And our newlyweds?"
God, the entire situation sickened Fain--Kitty's growing horror, Michael's ever-more dangerous look not encouraging him any further. He did hope this was good news. "They're both fine." And he could only pray that the information wouldn't anger the man now.
"Good," Jones said, as though he were only discussing the mildest of news. "I see you've done your duty quite well. I'll have someone come by to pick up your guests. I wouldn't want their presence to disturb you any longer."
The pair who were watching, waiting to hear what might happen with their lives, were growing all the more anxious. Nikita felt about ready to pass out--all her earlier, stoic reserves quite used up. The ex-guard's look might be seen as a positive sign, but it was so hard to say. Both of the couple only wished they could hear what was happening now.
This wish wasn't yet fulfilled, Roger's dumbfounded gaze continuing. He was just trying desperately to imagine some way to ask about his son, when the man went on--still seeming so very casual. "I almost forgot. I saw Kyle earlier. He seems quite well." The pause the man forced him through nearly made him shake, before his words went on. "Do give my regards to him and your wife, when you see them next."
This statement, beautiful in all its terrible simplicity, almost made Fain drop the gun--but he saw too well the look in Michael's eyes. He was certain that, given even half a chance, the actor would attack. The night had pushed him much too far to expect anything else.
"Thank you," was all Roger said into the phone, before he hung it up. His look returned in sadness to the pair, drained of life after all the terrible anxiety and guilt of the last several weeks. "He's sending someone by to pick them up." He motioned at their earlier attackers with his gun, keeping the weapon as a formality--moving past the couple carefully to go toward the window. "I'm sorry." And with that, the pair's gun and car keys left on the sill for them to retrieve later, he was gone. They all knew very well that they would never see him again.
This truth didn't particularly upset either of the tormented couple--but there were more than enough other targets for despair. Now that the attack was finally over, now that they were safe, the last of Nikita's reserves of fortitude ran out. All she really knew was that Michael was with her, that they were both still alive; he would take care of her. She didn't have to be the strong one anymore.
She wasn't even certain what she was doing at that moment, seemed to be caught somewhere between hysterical crying, hideous laughter, and the violent urge to be sick. It was Michael alone who helped her go on--collecting his keys, replacing the gun in its usual spot, and then picking her up to carry her to the car. A few seconds later, he was racing his way toward the nearest hospital. Whatever they were going to tell the newspapers was a story for a very distant day. All he knew now was that she was alive--and he would finally be able to look after her, as he should have all along.
[End of Part 219]
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