| Subject: Chapter 217 - Part 3 (16 and above) (end of chapter 217) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, November 21, 07:06:37am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark (203 > )" on Monday, October 03, 07:35:40am
The moment came before Nikita could even process what was happening, Jamie's quietly spoken, "Greg," diverting the man's attention for half a second. Only a heartbeat after this, the gunman lay dead in a gruesome pile on the floor, the bullet wound to his head, the mess it had made, nearly obscuring the look of shock on his face; the only reason she didn't actively retch was due to her survival instincts. A second later, the drawer beside her was open, the gun in her hand pointed at her brother. She had no way of knowing that he had already decided not to kill her.
Her hand was shaky, her whole body trembling--and Jamie was well aware that she was unlikely to hit anything in such a state. He just laughed at her, but was smart enough not to put the gun away, not to give her her chance--enough of a gambler himself to believe in lucky shots. "You're going to kill me?" He snorted, irony rising. Just his luck to be killed by some dame when he had just decided to save her life.
Nikita couldn't see this--her horror too intense, her nerves far too jangled, to quietly analyze her opponent. That she could still see straight amazed her--only the violent training of her childhood probably keeping her from fainting dead away. Still, she was determined now, if only in a distant, nerve-driven way; her eyes narrowed. There was no way she was going to die tonight.
She didn't really want to know where this moment was going, certainly didn't want to actually kill him. She was more than aware that--assuming she lived through this long enough to come back to her senses--she would probably be sick for days at the trauma of what she had just seen done to the gunman. While she was more than relieved that he would never be capable of hurting anyone again, it wasn't a sight for any rational mind. There was no way she was ever going to be able to forget it.
The moment stretched, therefore, the brother and sister simply staring at one another over the sights of their guns--neither one certain where this would lead. Nikita's head was filled solely with a sort of loud, humming static--the kind which could easily drive a person mad, the sound of the bullet which had ended Hillinger's life never quite seeming to die away. She couldn't even think. All she could do was stare at this man--and pray to God this ended somewhere other than yet more bloodshed and pain.
She got her wish for an end to the standoff, if only in one of the least wanted of ways. What seemed an eternity ended with the sound of running feet, her husband's scream of "Nikita!" echoing through the house. Perhaps it wasn't the brightest of ways to approach the situation, knowing as he did that the woman was probably being threatened by gunmen at that very moment--but he wasn't a soldier. He was a terrified man in love--and men in love were never the most rational of creatures.
This truth held, as he appeared at the door, the intruder's gun now on him, his eyes narrowing; it was only that in itself which forced Nikita a little from her shock. "Jamie!" she screamed. She saw him cock his gun and fired at him--the bullet coming within an inch of his head to lodge in the far wall; his astonished eyes moved back to see the look of a cornered lioness protecting everything she loved. "I swear to God I'll kill you, if you harm him at all."
Her voice at that moment was only a deep sort of growl, and it fortunately resonated with the man, his nod slow, as he finally uncocked the weapon--reasoning with her quietly. "How 'bout we both put down our guns?" Her eyes narrowed, as he coaxed her on. "There's no reason for us to kill each other now."
He started to put the weapon away, the long-unused analytical skills his father had given him finally coming to the fore; perhaps they had been waiting until they were truly needed. He had seen something in her eyes, knew what was in her now. She had never killed anyone--didn't want to start. The only reason she was dangerous was in protection of her own life, and that of her husband. If he just showed her that she was safe . . .
She saw where he was going but was shaking so badly she wasn't certain she had any control left--hoping the gun wouldn't go off on its own. He gave her a crooked smile, putting his weapon away completely in his coat pocket, and she began to lower the gun, praying it was the right decision; his voice seemed far more casual than should that of anyone who had just killed a very old acquaintance. "How about this--you go on living your life, and I'll live mine?" The smile seemed almost genuine. "There's no reason we should ever have to see each other again."
Nikita had no idea what she felt at this offer of life, was still shaking violently, as the gun hit the bed in front of her--her gaze fixed on the man. He seemed to be telling the truth, but . . . "What about Madeline?"
He had cast a look back at the woman's husband, judging him to be dangerous but currently in control--like his wife, only ready to attack if forced; his gaze returned to her with a calmer smile. "That crazy bitch?" He shrugged, turning away. "Who gives a damn what she wants?" He could always make up some story, when he worked her for his deal. Besides, he knew more than enough about her to blackmail her now.
The woman just watched, as he made his way to the window--apparently ready to sneak out the way he had come in. She didn't have any clear thought in her head, almost entirely emptied by shock. It was only the arrival of Michael by her side which brought her back a little, his arms now around her--her hand grasping his shirt, ready to fall entirely apart as soon as her brother left the room, as soon as she knew they were really safe. She couldn't even say anything, shaken to her soul. It wasn't a night she was ever going to be fortunate enough to forget.
Jamie turned back to her at the last instant, his eyes almost tender. "Nice to have met you," he grinned. But that was when everything turned upside down again.
The entire night had been a nightmare for Michael, was made no better by the next few seconds. Whether it were his terror for his beloved one's safety, his horror over not being there to protect her, or his shock over his own uselessness in the current situation--his Nikita, for all her terror, holding up to the moment astoundingly well--he could barely speak for his shock. But then he saw the window open quickly, soundlessly behind the man--and neither he nor his wife could speak, before they saw him crumple slowly to the floor.
The culprit this time had also been a gun--but only the butt of it had been used, Jamie merely unconscious at the feet of the newcomer. It only took Fain a second to fully enter the room, righting the gun in his hands to point at the couple who had been too surprised to grab their own--his eyes determined, if terribly apologetic, focused on the woman before him. "I'm sorry, Kitty. This wasn't what I wanted." But neither of the endangered pair had the strength left, for the moment, to ask him what he intended.
They were left like this for an eternal heartbeat, all of them frozen--the change overwhelming. After their almost-reprieve, it was far too much. Now a new hell opened before them--and none of them knew where it would take them at all.
Extra note: Sorry to leave you here! There's more coming, I promise. :)
[End of Part 217]
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