fic: an idle tuesday

[inflowers]

title: an idle tuesday
author: inflowers
summary: "I want to know why you like pasta when it's still a little crunchy. I want to know about your first kiss, your first surgery, your first love. I want to know what it's like to wake up next to you when we're old and gray, and still be so in love with you."
authors notes: so this is totally dramatic, and i took some liberties. but it kind of just wrote itself.

He doesn't see the gun.

Not at first, anyway. It's the look on his face that he sees first. The desperation.

“Get on the ground.” The voice shouts at him, and he doesn't think twice about doing so. He hits the floor and buries his head into the carpet, his heart beating through his throat. “Don't look up, or I'll shoot. I mean it.”

Luke's head turns slightly to the left and he sees an older man lying next to him, his face white with fear in a shade that Luke is sure matches his. He nods at the old man, trying to reassure him with his eyes - but he's not sure what he's reassuring him about. Because he doesn't really know what's happening. He just knows that his face is pressed against the carpet, it's itching at his cheeks and there's a man waving a gun around them, shouting at the few people inside the bank to shut up and get down.

Luke sneaks a glance, just because he's Luke, and he doesn't like taking orders from anyone. Even when his life is at stake. He can see that the man with the gun is young, maybe thirty at the oldest. He's got short brown hair and his clothes are old, like they've been worn day in and day out for weeks without washing. His face is pulled tightly in anguish, in the kind of indescribable pain that people suffer through without rhyme or reason.

“They took her away. They took away the one person that I loved the most.” He's muttering, more to himself than anyone and Luke is trying to listen. Trying to listen in case there's something he can say that will heighten their chances of getting out alive. But it's not making any sense to him, and his hope is fading rapidly as the gunman is getting more and more agitated.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, Luke thinks to himself. His Tuesday was not supposed to involve him laying on the floor of the bank, and he definitely didn't envision his Tuesday involving guns . He was just dropping into the bank to cash some cheques, and he was supposed to be having lunch with Reid. Reid, who is probably cursing at Luke and getting more and more annoyed as each minute ticks by.

Reid, who doesn't know.

The teller behind the counter is asking him what he wants, whether he wants money and how much money. But the gunman is saying no, telling her that he could care less about money. That's not why he's here. But what other reason would someone have to hold up a bank.

“Hey - you.” A shoe appears in front of Luke's face, but he doesn't want to look up. He doesn't want to make eye contact with the gun, he's seen a few too many of them in his relatively short life, and he's not interested in seeing another. “You, what's your name?” The voice is quieter, but still angry. He's not shouting so much as demanding, and Luke isn't about to get a bullet in the back of the head for not answering.

“Luke.” He says, almost too quietly. Louder, he adds. “Luke Snyder.”

“Have you ever been in love, Luke?” The gunman questions, bending down and pressing the gun into the back of Luke's neck. It's cold, and his skin is hot. They cancel each other out, but Luke is feeling anything but balanced.

“Yes.” He doesn't even think about it, a knee jerk reaction to a question that could have so many answers.

“And what happened? Are you still in love?” The voice is taunting him, but Luke doesn't care. He just knows that as long as there are questions being asked, he's not getting shot. Not yet, at least.

“I've been in love twice, sir.”

“I don't think you need to call me sir. Besides, it's not like we're getting out of this alive so you may as well call me by my first name.” The gunman sniggers, but Luke knows it's not funny. Neither of them are laughing. “Call me Harrison.”

“Okay, Harrison.” Luke swallows thickly, daring to lift his head up a little more. “I've been in love twice.”

“What happened the first time, why didn't it work out?”

Luke read somewhere that the most important thing was to keep them talking. Maybe he saw it on Dr Phil, maybe he read it in an out of date magazine in his dentists waiting room. But he definitely remembers that if you're ever in a hostage situation, you need to keep them talking. So Luke tries to chat conversationally, and keep his pulse and voice level in check.

“I fell out of love with him.” And he wonders whether he should have said him, or whether it would have just been easier to lie. He doesn't want to be shot for something as stupid as his sexuality, but if he's going to die, he's going to die honestly. “We weren't the same people we were when we fell in love. It was just over.”

“So he didn't cheat on you, didn't run off with someone else?” To his credit, Harrison doesn't even flinch at Luke's use of the male pronoun. There's no real room for prejudice in crime, Luke supposes.

“No, no. Nothing like that. I just didn't love him anymore.”

“But he still loved you?”

“Maybe. I don't know. I guess so.” Luke nods against the carpet, his eyes stinging from tears he's not letting himself cry. “He's okay now, though. He moved on.” He finds the courage somewhere inside him to keep talking. “You can too, you know.”

“No, I can't.” Harrison whispers, and Luke can hear him choke back half a sob. “Maybe your guy moved on, because at least he got to see you happy. I can't move on, because she's not happy. She's fuckin' dead.”

“That doesn't mean she's not happy, Harrison.” Luke ventures calmly, lifting his head once again but keeping his body plastered to the floor. “Who knows what happens to us when we die.”

“I do, I know.” Harrison says angrily, pushing the gun back into Luke's neck. “I know she's not happy, because she's not here with me.”

“I'd like to think that even when people die, they're still with us somehow. That we carry them with us.” Luke doesn't really believe it, he's not religious and he has no real interest in spirits or ghosts apart from occasionally stopping while channel surfing to mock Crossing Over with John Edwards. But he's desperate, desperate to live and desperate for everyone else in the small bank to live with him.

“That's bullshit.” Harrison says, still holding the gun to Luke. “All bullshit. That's what the shrinks told me, after she died. After those cops gone and fuckin' killed her.”

“What happened?” Luke asks, gently.

Harrison stands, taking his gun away from Luke's skin and there's an audible breath let out by the young blonde. He can feel his phone vibrating in his pocket, and he assumes it's Reid. It's been vibrating on and off for the last ten minutes, but with a steel handgun pressed into his body, he'd been too distracted to notice.

With Harrison's back turned to him, Luke seizes the opportunity to reach underneath him and slide open the phone, and without looking lowers the speaker volume so as not to draw attention to it. He pulls the phone from his pocket and lays it between himself and the elderly man, motioning for him to be quiet about it. It's obscured from view, but Luke is hoping that the microphone will catch at least something.

Across town at Al's, Reid is impatiently waiting on his lunch. He was damned if he was going to wait for Prince Snyder before he ordered, he was a growing man and he was god damn starving.

“Hey, you little shit. It's about time you answered.” Reid growls into his phone, stuffing a bread stick into his mouth. “Luke?” He asks, when no voice answers him. He can hear shuffling, and a voice in the distance, and something inside him is saying that this isn't quite right. Luke hardly ever doesn't answer his phone, and he never answers it without saying anything.

“Harrison.” Luke's voice cuts through, and Reid ignores the fleeting moment of jealousy that he feels at Luke saying another mans name. “What happened?”

“She died. That's all you need to know. Now shut the hell up.” A voice answers back angrily, and Reid's instincts finally kick in.

There's something wrong. He needs to find Luke.

Reid stands up and throws some money on the table, without collecting his lunch. He keeps the phone pressed to his ear but doesn't say anything, and walks briskly towards the door trying to think of all the things Luke said he was going to do today.

He mentally kicks himself for never listening hard enough.

In the bank, the hostages are still on the floor, sprawled out one after the other. Luke's the only one that's talking, he's the only one who Harrison ever addresses and he's the only one whose name he knows.

“Tell me, Luke.” He says, bending down once again but leaving the gun at his side. “You said you'd been in love twice and then only told me about the first time. What happened the second?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened.” Luke answers honestly, letting one stray tear slip out. “I'm still in love with him.”

“Really.” Harrison isn't asking, he's mocking. But Luke is defiant in his responses, and refuses to back down.

“Yeah. Really.”

“And does he love you?”

“I don't know, I guess so.” Luke says, having never actually heard the words from Reid. But he's not so naive to believe that he needs the words. He's fine with the fact that while Reid may never say it, he shows it. And that's enough.

“You guess so?”

“He's ...” Luke starts, trying to think of a diplomatic way to say it before internally admonishing himself for even caring. “He's a bit cold sometimes, he doesn't always say how he feels. But I think he loves me.”

“And that's fine with you, just thinking that he does?”

“Why wouldn't it be?”

“Because most people want more from their relationships.” Harrison answers, and Luke can imagine the confused look on his face even without looking up.

“I'm not most people. It's enough for me that he's here, that we're together now. And if we weren't together, it would be enough for me that we had been.”

“That's bull.” Harrison swears, kicking at Luke's arm. “You'd be god damn devastated if you lost him, just like I am.”

“Of course I would be.” Luke answers, nodding against the floor. “But I would deal with it because I would remember what we did have, while I did have him.”

“Well you're a better man than me, Luke Snyder. That's for god damn sure.”

“Maybe.” Luke agrees, because he's never held anyone hostage before. “How did she die?”

“They fuckin' shot her. The cops, they shot her.” Harrison answers, kicking over a chair and Luke is grateful that's all.

“Why?”

“She had some trouble, man. She did some bad shit and they caught up with her, and they shot her. She was just trying to get some cash together so we could bail out - and they shot her in the chest.” He's pacing again, and Luke can tell his shoes are old. They're falling apart, just like Harrison. “She didn't mean to hurt that gas station attendant, I know it. I know she didn't mean to shoot him. But she did, so the cops that were outside fired and they killed her. They killed my girlfriend.”

Luke sympathises, or at least - he tries to. Because in his mind, he's thinking that they should have shot her earlier so she didn't have a chance to hurt anyone. But he knows that saying so will only end in blood and heartache, so he tries to sympathise.

“That's rough, Harrison.” He answers, coughing slightly to remove the lump caught in the back of his throat. “But what does that have to do with us?”

“The cop that shot her, he was meant to be here. Always does his banking on Tuesday mornings. Just before lunch.” He answers, pacing again. “I've been following him, and he always does his banking now. But he's not here. He's not here, so now I've got no choice.”

“No choice?” Luke asks timidly, daring to sneak another glance at Harrison who isn't trying to hide the tears cascading in torrents down his face.

“I've gotta kill you all, man. I was gonna shoot the bastard then shoot myself, but he's not here and I'm not dying without seeing that guys blood all over my shoes. So I've gotta shoot you all, cos you've seen my face. I've gotta shoot you all so I can get out of here and find him.”

All nine hostages inside the bank let out an audible gasp, and for the first time Luke looks around him. He doesn't really recognise anyone, except the woman from the bank. There's a couple in the far corner, holding hands tightly and the woman is sobbing gently against the mans arm. The elderly man lying next to Luke, the woman with her young son on the other side of him. There are nine people lying on the floor of the Oakdale Bank, and Luke is terrified that soon there are going to be nine people lying dead on the floor of the Oakdale Bank.

He can only pray that Reid is still listening to what's transpiring, and that he's somehow getting help.

“Please, don't hurt us.” Luke whimpers, allowing himself a few moments of devastation before getting back to his only job - keeping them all alive. Keeping Harrison talking so they have a few more minutes to be rescued. “I don't want to die. And these people don't want to die either.”

“It's too late, man. It's just too late.”

“It's not.” Luke argues back, weakly. “I only know your first name. I don't know anything else about you. Just your name. You can still get out of here without the cops catching you, and then no one has to die.”

“You know more than just my name, Luke. You know about Cassie and how she was shot, you think they're not going to put two and two together? I won't even get to the outskirts of town before they track me down and they shoot me, just like they fuckin' shot her.”

Luke lets out another whimper, and tries not to feel too overwhelmed. He's been faced with his own mortality before, but somehow those times felt like he was going to make it through. This time, though - feels different. As though all those years running from his impending doom have finally caught up with him, and this is the ultimate punishment for all the things he's done wrong in his life. All the people that he's hurt with his drinking, his lying, his immaturity. It's all caught up with him, and he's never going to have a chance to really make things right again.

“But I'm going to do something for you.” Harrison offers, pulling a small tape recorder from his back pocket. “I was going to tape the cop making a full confession, saying how he shot her in cold blood and how he murdered her, how he was going to hell. I was going to tape it so the cops would find it when we were dead and they'd know the truth.”

Luke nods, trying to keep up with Harrison's wandering feet.

“I'm going to give this to you, Luke. For trying to help, I'm gonna give this to you. And you can record something on it, whatever you wanna say. You can tape it, and so after you're gone, they can listen to it.”

“Please - don't.” Luke pleads, his eyes straining to keep the tears at bay. He's worried that once they start, they might not stop. “Don't do this.”

“I gotta, man. Now do you want this?” Harrison bends down, offering the recorder to Luke.

“No, Harrison. I'm not taking it, not unless everyone else in this room can do it too. It's not fair that I should be the only one to say anything.”

It figures that even in the instance of his own imminent death, Luke would try to be noble and selfless. Always trying to get the best out of people, the best for other people.

“Suit yourself, man. Just means there's less tape for you.” Harrison shrugs, pushing it towards the elderly man next to Luke and only just missing the cellphone lodged between them. Thankfully he doesn't seem to notice, and he turns his back and walks to the other side of the room.

“Here, you can go first.” Luke sniffs quietly, nudging the recorder to the man and pressing record. As he listens to it click over, he again looks around the bank at the terrified people sprawled across the floor. They're all crying now, even the mother who was trying so hard to be strong for her son has broken down and is sobbing violently against the carpet.

The man laying next to Luke switches the recorder off and pushes it back to Luke, shaking his head as best he can.

“No, son. I've said all I need to say. I've no one left in my life, and those who left this earth before me knew how much I loved them. I've made my peace with the universe, young man. I'll save the small amount of tape I would have used for someone else.”

So one by one, the hostages record messages. Of love, of apologies for all the things that they won't get to apologise for, of gratefulness for the full and wonderful lives they've lead thus far. Luke cries as he listens to the mother remind her other son to always wear clean clothing and to pick up after himself, he cries as he listens to the couple tell their parents that it's okay - because right at the end, right when it mattered, they were together.

When the recorder finally makes it way back to Luke, he's thought long and hard about what he wants to say. As he clicks the record button, he breathes deeply and sighs once before speaking.

“I never thought I'd have to say anything like this. I just thought that when I died, it would be sudden and I wouldn't have time to think about anything, or say anything before it happened. I never though it would be like this, and I never thought that I would get an opportunity to record a last statement of sorts.” He laughs sardonically, shaking his head and focusing again. “I just want to say to my family, that even when I screwed up, you were always there. And I want you to know how I always appreciated it, even when it seemed like I didn't. I love you all, so much. All my brothers and sisters, my half brothers and sisters, my cousins, aunts, uncles, third cousins twice removed. I have loved being a part of our family, even when it was dysfunctional. And Mom, Dad, Damien, I never cared about whose blood was running through my veins. In some way or another, you were always all my parents and I love you all in different ways for different reasons. And Noah, thank you for being my friend even after everything. You were always my best friend, and I do love you.”

Luke pauses for a second, his eyes still trained on Harrison's sneakers that are standing stoically ten feet away from him. Unmoving, unwavering. Strong and silent.

“But Reid. I just, I don't have anything to say. There's nothing I can say. I wasn't ready for this to be over. There's still so much I want to know about you. I want to know about your first childhood memory. I want to know why you like pasta when it's still a little crunchy. I want to know about your first kiss, your first surgery, your first love. I want to know what it's like to wake up next to you when we're old and gray, and still be so in love with you. There's so much I want to know, but there's only one thing I want you to know. I want you to know how happy you've made me, how I have no regrets about us, and how much I love you. How much I've loved you from the start. I knew you and me were forever, Reid - I just didn't think forever would come so quickly.”

Luke clicks the recording off, and sets it down next to him before reaching down and snapping his phone shut. Reid shouldn't have to hear this, he shouldn't have to hear them be shot. Luke's almost completely given up hope that anyone is coming, and he's resigning himself to this being his fate.

He's said all he needs to say. He hasn't done all he needs to do, but he's said all he needs to say.

Outside the bank, a swat team assemble themselves and get ready to enter the bank. The line has been disconnected between Luke and Reid, who is waiting impatiently behind the police line. He's jittery, and his body won't stop moving no matter how hard he's trying to control it.

He's about to demand that someone do something, when a shot rings out and echoes through the street.

For a second, everything stops. There are no birds, no trees whistling, nothing. Reid thinks his heart even stops, his body stills completely and no muscles move or even twitch. It's torture, and he's about to grab a flack jacket and run through inside himself, when finally the doors to the bank open and eight people run out, screaming and throwing themselves at paramedics and policemen lined up along the barricade.

Reid's eyes dart through the small crowd, but he can't see Luke. He can't see that familiar head of blonde hair, and he doesn't even realise that he's yelling until he sees the startled look on peoples faces. Breaking through the police line, he runs towards the building and tears open the door.

Laying in the middle of the bank, blood streaming out of his chest and a gun in his hand, the gunman is unmoving. Luke is over his body, his jacket torn off his body and he's applying pressure just like Reid always told him to do. But there's too much blood, and Harrison is dead.

“I tried to save him.” Luke says quietly, looking up and meeting Reid's eyes and finally letting all his tears stream out. “He listened to what I said, what I said to you. And he - he couldn't do it.”

Reid rushes towards him, and gently pulls Luke off the body, leaving the jacket behind as it covers the bullet hole.

“He couldn't do it, and he shot himself.” Luke is still speaking quietly, as though he's afraid someone will hear. And Reid isn't about to tell him to speak up, so he just moves him outside and sits him on a bench as he checks over him with his eyes. Checking every possible place Luke could have been hurt, because he swears that if that man had of touched a hair on Luke's head, he'd go back inside and kill him again.

“It's okay, Luke. It's over.” Reid assures him, holding onto him and ignoring the blood getting between them.

Because at least it's not Luke's.

Reid isn't sure what to say, so he stays quiet for awhile, gently running his hands over Luke. He's just trying to touch him anywhere he can, to affirm that he's okay. That they're both okay. But eventually he realises he's going to need to say something, so he fills the silence with chatter.
“My first childhood memory was Christmas, when I was seven. I got a bike. It was all I'd been talking about for a whole year, and my parents kept saying they couldn't afford it. But I woke up on Christmas morning and it was right there. Bright red with killer pedals.” Reid laughs at the memory, and Luke lifts his head to meet Reid's gaze. They share an intense look, before Reid pulls him back to his chest and keeps talking. “Pasta is better crunchy, when it's too soft it's like eating brains. My first kiss was with a girl called Remi who told everyone afterwards that I had fish breath. My first surgery was an appendectomy and I did nothing but stand off to the side and watch, but it was awesome. And my first love was a guy called Dallas when I was fifteen. Trust me to go after a guy with a name like Dallas, right?”

Luke laughs against Reid's chest, and tries to ignore the coroner entering the bank and wheeling out Harrison's lifeless body.

“And waking up next to me when we're old and gray is going to be awesome.” Reid says, his eyes twinkling. “You wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I'm going to be such a silver fox.”