JOHN BARROWMAN / SCOTT GILL RPS FIC - DAMN HIS EYES - part 11
JOHN BARROWMAN / SCOTT GILL RPS FIC - DAMN HIS EYES - Part 11
Title: Damn His Eyes
Characters : John Barrowman and Scott Gill. Dan and Paul + others - fictional friends
Rating : PG
Disclaimer : I don't know or own JB or SG. All this is my imagination.
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part 11
Phil walked into the Oleander. He went straight up to the counter.
"I need to see Terry Cornish. I heard he's staying here. Where can I find him please?" he said to the waitress.
She turned and said something to a man at the end of the bar.
"He is up there." the waitress said, pointing up at the ceiling, "You go out and up stairs. Ok?"
"Thanks." Phil said.
Terry hugged Phil as he let him into his rooms.
"I knew it was here somewhere." Terry said, eyeing Phil's bag, "I could feel it. I spent ages over in Istanbul combing every sodding market for the bloody thing. Just came down here last week to start looking for it."
Phil plonked himself down on a couch.
"Something doesn't quite add up here, Terry." he said, "I mean, if you'd found the piece, then you'd be looking at a fortune. You could have kept it for yourself, completed the face and pocketed twenty five million. It just seems that twelve point five million is a lot to just give away."
"Oh, I have my reasons for splitting the dough with you." Terry said, grinning, "How else was I going to get the nose here? I can't touch it. You probably can't either. But Scott can."
"But Scott is ill because of it." Phil said, "It's making him hurt."
"Yes. Because it knows who he is." Terry said, "It knows what he'll be capable of. If it hurts him, then he won't want to touch it."
"You can't just tell him to do it." Phil said, "What if he won't?"
"He'll do it." Terry sounded certain, "Where is he?"
"I'm not sure." Phil looked confused, "I had him with me. I left him in the internet cafe. . . . What do you mean by 'it knows who he is'?"
Terry went over to the table he was using for a desk. He cocked his head and looked down the spines of a pile of books. He selected one and began to look through the pages.
"Ah, here it is." he said at last, turning the book to show Phil.
Phil read.
"Oh my God." was all he said.
"So, what're you doing with yourself nowadays?" John asked Andy as they strolled through the market looking out for Scott and Phil.
"I'm a curator." Andy told him, "I'm at the Desegneaux in Paris. It's definitely a matter of size doesn't count. It's only a small museum, but it's got some of the most unusual and priceless treasures in it. Phil spends a lot of time in there, drooling."
"You're based in Paris now?"
"Yes." Andy said, "It's a hard life but I guess someone has to do it."
"The trinket stall has gone." John said, frowning.
Andy shrugged.
"It's only three o'clock." he said, "Maybe he's still on his siesta."
"Hmm. . . I wonder where Scottie is." John looked concerned, "It's not like him . . . actually it is like him to go a.w.o.l. He's always wandering off. If there's a book store here, he'll be in it."
"Some of the cafes sell books." Andy said, "Let's walk back. We can look in each one to see if he's in there."
Phil heard shouting and jumped as the door to Terry's rooms burst open and Scott was shoved through with the stall holder close behind him.
It had been Scott was yelling. His words took on meaning as he stumbled into the room.
" . . . told you I don't have any fucking money! . . . Let me go you arsehole! . . .I'll call the pol . . . Phil? Christ! What are you doing here?"
"Ah, Scott. At last." Terry said, "Good of you to join us."
Scott laughed. "Bit bloody James Bond, isn't it Terry?" he giggled.
"Shut up!" the stall holder brandished a long knife at Scott.
"Phil, please tell him I haven't got the bloody trinket." Scott said, "Look, he's the one who bought it. Not me." he said to the stallholder.
"Dont hurt him, you idiot." Terry said, "We need him."
The stallholder obediently lowered the knife.
"You need me?" Scott asked, "What for?"
"The nose. It must be placed back in the cats face. Only you can do it." Terry said, "But, of course, you know it has a curse on it? And to replace the last part, the centre, will lift the curse, but it means certain death for you. Unless you betray your true love."
"This is ridiculous!" Scott said, "What if I refuse to do it?"
"You won't refuse, love." Phil said softly.
Scott shot him a dirty look. "Won't I?" he said.
"No." Terry sighed, "You won't. There is a little incentive for you to do as we ask. Come in!"
Scott's blood ran cold as the door opened. John entered just ahead of Andy, who held a gun to the back of John's head.
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tbc
Title: Damn His Eyes
Characters : John Barrowman and Scott Gill. Dan and Paul + others - fictional friends
Rating : PG
Disclaimer : I don't know or own JB or SG. All this is my imagination.
--------------------------
part 11
Phil walked into the Oleander. He went straight up to the counter.
"I need to see Terry Cornish. I heard he's staying here. Where can I find him please?" he said to the waitress.
She turned and said something to a man at the end of the bar.
"He is up there." the waitress said, pointing up at the ceiling, "You go out and up stairs. Ok?"
"Thanks." Phil said.
Terry hugged Phil as he let him into his rooms.
"I knew it was here somewhere." Terry said, eyeing Phil's bag, "I could feel it. I spent ages over in Istanbul combing every sodding market for the bloody thing. Just came down here last week to start looking for it."
Phil plonked himself down on a couch.
"Something doesn't quite add up here, Terry." he said, "I mean, if you'd found the piece, then you'd be looking at a fortune. You could have kept it for yourself, completed the face and pocketed twenty five million. It just seems that twelve point five million is a lot to just give away."
"Oh, I have my reasons for splitting the dough with you." Terry said, grinning, "How else was I going to get the nose here? I can't touch it. You probably can't either. But Scott can."
"But Scott is ill because of it." Phil said, "It's making him hurt."
"Yes. Because it knows who he is." Terry said, "It knows what he'll be capable of. If it hurts him, then he won't want to touch it."
"You can't just tell him to do it." Phil said, "What if he won't?"
"He'll do it." Terry sounded certain, "Where is he?"
"I'm not sure." Phil looked confused, "I had him with me. I left him in the internet cafe. . . . What do you mean by 'it knows who he is'?"
Terry went over to the table he was using for a desk. He cocked his head and looked down the spines of a pile of books. He selected one and began to look through the pages.
"Ah, here it is." he said at last, turning the book to show Phil.
Phil read.
"Oh my God." was all he said.
"So, what're you doing with yourself nowadays?" John asked Andy as they strolled through the market looking out for Scott and Phil.
"I'm a curator." Andy told him, "I'm at the Desegneaux in Paris. It's definitely a matter of size doesn't count. It's only a small museum, but it's got some of the most unusual and priceless treasures in it. Phil spends a lot of time in there, drooling."
"You're based in Paris now?"
"Yes." Andy said, "It's a hard life but I guess someone has to do it."
"The trinket stall has gone." John said, frowning.
Andy shrugged.
"It's only three o'clock." he said, "Maybe he's still on his siesta."
"Hmm. . . I wonder where Scottie is." John looked concerned, "It's not like him . . . actually it is like him to go a.w.o.l. He's always wandering off. If there's a book store here, he'll be in it."
"Some of the cafes sell books." Andy said, "Let's walk back. We can look in each one to see if he's in there."
Phil heard shouting and jumped as the door to Terry's rooms burst open and Scott was shoved through with the stall holder close behind him.
It had been Scott was yelling. His words took on meaning as he stumbled into the room.
" . . . told you I don't have any fucking money! . . . Let me go you arsehole! . . .I'll call the pol . . . Phil? Christ! What are you doing here?"
"Ah, Scott. At last." Terry said, "Good of you to join us."
Scott laughed. "Bit bloody James Bond, isn't it Terry?" he giggled.
"Shut up!" the stall holder brandished a long knife at Scott.
"Phil, please tell him I haven't got the bloody trinket." Scott said, "Look, he's the one who bought it. Not me." he said to the stallholder.
"Dont hurt him, you idiot." Terry said, "We need him."
The stallholder obediently lowered the knife.
"You need me?" Scott asked, "What for?"
"The nose. It must be placed back in the cats face. Only you can do it." Terry said, "But, of course, you know it has a curse on it? And to replace the last part, the centre, will lift the curse, but it means certain death for you. Unless you betray your true love."
"This is ridiculous!" Scott said, "What if I refuse to do it?"
"You won't refuse, love." Phil said softly.
Scott shot him a dirty look. "Won't I?" he said.
"No." Terry sighed, "You won't. There is a little incentive for you to do as we ask. Come in!"
Scott's blood ran cold as the door opened. John entered just ahead of Andy, who held a gun to the back of John's head.
-------------------------
tbc