Primeval Fic: A Murder of One [4/5]
Characters: Alex (OFC), Abby, and James, mentions of Leek
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,324
Written for: 5-prompts
Prompt: Table 73 #5: [picture] doodle
Summary: At least the worst thing she’ll encounter this time is an irate James.
Alex can’t think. She’s supposed to be writing up her report, but every time she starts to, her mind jumps to the conclusion - the mammoth, the predator, the blood on James’s shirt. The thought of how close she came to losing him leaves her shaking, her stomach sick. And while it’s part of the job for her, he was never meant to be in that position.
She digs the pen into the paper, draws a heavy black line; the imaginary knife across Leek’s throat. Hatred boils and she scrapes the pen again. The lines are sharp, jagged, and the paper tears. She screws it into a ball and throws it at the wall.
Then her anger drains and it’s those memories again. Her eyes sting. She presses the heels of her hands into the sockets. It takes a few moments and several deep breaths for the threat to pass. She cannot cry. If she starts, she won’t ever stop.
“Alex?” Abby, ever concerned, hovers in the doorway.
She banks everything down. “Hey.”
“Are you okay?”
Alex pauses, the lie on the tip of her tongue, but the look on Abby’s face tells her it’s a pointless exercise. She sags, shakes her head. “No.”
“He’s all right, you know. More pissed off at having a shirt wrecked than anything else.” Abby grins, but Alex can’t share in her amusement.
“He could have died.” She can’t get her head around that. “It’s not supposed to be him, dammit! Not here! He should have been safe.”
Abby frowns and stares at her feet. Then she looks up. “It doesn’t work like that. The anomalies… too many people want them for their own gain. Lester knows that. He wasn’t entirely unprepared.”
Thank God; Alex knows she’d be mourning him now without that training.
“You ought to speak to him,” Abby adds.
“He won’t listen.”
Abby shrugs one shoulder slowly. “Me and Connor were with Cutter. Jenny was sent off by Leek. I wonder where he said you were.”
She hasn’t considered that. Horror spikes through her misery. “He wouldn’t,” she says, though she knows too well he would. And the attack on James was personal. She gets to her feet and shoves out of the office, running before she thinks about it too much.
She’s done that once today. At least the worst thing she’ll encounter this time is an irate James.
He looks up as she skids into his office. He’s changed his shirt and, other than the graze on his cheek, it’s hard to tell anything’s happened at all. Except there is a darkness in his eyes that wasn’t there first thing this morning. His anger is in check, but she knows him well and he is furious.
“Leek?”
“We’re tracking him. He won’t get away.”
Alex doesn’t fancy the man’s chances, or envy him his fate. She licks her lips, suddenly nervous and not sure she even wants to know. “What did he tell you?” she asks.
“It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t true.”
“But you… thought it might be? James, please. I need to know what he told you.”
“He said you were dead.”
It’s not what she was expecting. She sits down hard. “Oh.”
“What did you think it was?”
A nightmare, retold with lies and a determination to hurt them both. She can’t tell him, not all of it. Not yet. She isn’t willing to do that to him. Best that she carry the burden on her own until she’s more sure…
“He… tried it on with me. A few days ago. I didn’t. I hated him, but I thought… I thought he might have spun it otherwise.”
James shakes his head, the anger closer to the surface. “No. He didn’t bother with that, just said he’d made sure you were unable to interfere. Actually didn’t say you were dead, rather inferred it.”
Or Leek had thought she’d back off after being assaulted. “Idiot,” she mutters. “Are we allowed to shoot him, do you think?”
His smirk is feral. “Well, we are allowed to use deadly force if he resists arrest. I’m rather hoping that he does.”
Alex chuckles. The horror is dwindling, though she might not sleep tonight. Still, she feels a little better and pulls herself out of the chair. It’s best she leaves while things are pleasant between them. She can’t handle an argument right now.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she says, then heads quickly for the door. Her name stops her, hand on the handle. She doesn’t turn. “What?”
“I’m glad that you are, as well.”
It comes from behind her, low and laced with emotion. She can’t do this. Not now. Her heart can’t take it. She opens the door. “I need to go.”
He leans past her, his hand flat on the door. It slams into the frame, making the glass shiver. Alex swallows hard. “James.”
“When are you going to stop running?” His tone is almost conversational, but there’s a layer of pain she doesn’t want to hear.
“It still won’t work.”
“You were so sure of us, once.”
“Then I woke up to the responsibilities and the fact I never fitted in. You needed someone who wouldn’t be a burden.”
“I wanted you. I didn’t need anything else.”
Alex loses her fight against the tears. “That’s easy to say, but harder to live. I can’t be the proper little wife, James. You know I can’t.”
He turns her and she quails at the determination on his face. “Did I ask that of you?”
“No, but-”
“But what, Alexis? It was bloody simple, before you went and made it complicated. I didn’t understand then, and I’m not sure I do now. What the hell was wrong with us?”
She gulps past the lump in her throat. “Nothing. We were perfect. But it wouldn’t have stayed that way.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can! We lived in different worlds, James. There was no getting past that. As much as I loved you, I couldn’t… People would have judged you poorly for your choice, and I’d have been the gold digger and… I couldn’t live with that.”
His expression goes bleak. “So you ran away. Left me high and dry, with no explanation. Yeah, you must have loved me all right.”
“I did.” She shakes her head in despair. “And I still do. You scared me half to death today. The thought of losing you…”
James grits his teeth. He gives her a little shake, then yanks her into his arms. She balks, because she’s all too aware of his injured chest, but he’s stronger than she remembers and wriggling doesn’t get her anywhere.
“Did someone say something to you?”
She remembers the ball; it was the worst night of her life. “Y-yes. At the New Year’s Ball. I didn’t know who she was, but she said… she mentioned how incompatible we were, how I’d end up being something I loathed, how we’d end up hating each other.” Alex lets out a hollow laugh. “Pretty much every doubt and fear I’d held since you proposed.”
James sighs. “And you didn’t mention this to me because?” Then he holds her at arms’ length. “What woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did she look like?”
Alex thinks back. “My height, dark hair. Pretty in a sharp sort of way. She wore a black cocktail dress and pumps. I remember that, because it seemed odd she wasn’t in heels.”
James’s expression is wary. “Did she have a name?”
“I didn’t ask. She walked off and I went home.”
He pulls away and stalks to his desk, rooting through papers. Then he holds up a photograph. “This her?”
The image is of a woman with ruffled hair wearing a rough jacket and trousers. But the face is the same. “Yes. Why do you have a photo of her?”
“Because that is Helen Cutter.” James slams a fist down on the desk. “Dammit!”
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,324
Written for: 5-prompts
Prompt: Table 73 #5: [picture] doodle
Summary: At least the worst thing she’ll encounter this time is an irate James.
Alex can’t think. She’s supposed to be writing up her report, but every time she starts to, her mind jumps to the conclusion - the mammoth, the predator, the blood on James’s shirt. The thought of how close she came to losing him leaves her shaking, her stomach sick. And while it’s part of the job for her, he was never meant to be in that position.
She digs the pen into the paper, draws a heavy black line; the imaginary knife across Leek’s throat. Hatred boils and she scrapes the pen again. The lines are sharp, jagged, and the paper tears. She screws it into a ball and throws it at the wall.
Then her anger drains and it’s those memories again. Her eyes sting. She presses the heels of her hands into the sockets. It takes a few moments and several deep breaths for the threat to pass. She cannot cry. If she starts, she won’t ever stop.
“Alex?” Abby, ever concerned, hovers in the doorway.
She banks everything down. “Hey.”
“Are you okay?”
Alex pauses, the lie on the tip of her tongue, but the look on Abby’s face tells her it’s a pointless exercise. She sags, shakes her head. “No.”
“He’s all right, you know. More pissed off at having a shirt wrecked than anything else.” Abby grins, but Alex can’t share in her amusement.
“He could have died.” She can’t get her head around that. “It’s not supposed to be him, dammit! Not here! He should have been safe.”
Abby frowns and stares at her feet. Then she looks up. “It doesn’t work like that. The anomalies… too many people want them for their own gain. Lester knows that. He wasn’t entirely unprepared.”
Thank God; Alex knows she’d be mourning him now without that training.
“You ought to speak to him,” Abby adds.
“He won’t listen.”
Abby shrugs one shoulder slowly. “Me and Connor were with Cutter. Jenny was sent off by Leek. I wonder where he said you were.”
She hasn’t considered that. Horror spikes through her misery. “He wouldn’t,” she says, though she knows too well he would. And the attack on James was personal. She gets to her feet and shoves out of the office, running before she thinks about it too much.
She’s done that once today. At least the worst thing she’ll encounter this time is an irate James.
He looks up as she skids into his office. He’s changed his shirt and, other than the graze on his cheek, it’s hard to tell anything’s happened at all. Except there is a darkness in his eyes that wasn’t there first thing this morning. His anger is in check, but she knows him well and he is furious.
“Leek?”
“We’re tracking him. He won’t get away.”
Alex doesn’t fancy the man’s chances, or envy him his fate. She licks her lips, suddenly nervous and not sure she even wants to know. “What did he tell you?” she asks.
“It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t true.”
“But you… thought it might be? James, please. I need to know what he told you.”
“He said you were dead.”
It’s not what she was expecting. She sits down hard. “Oh.”
“What did you think it was?”
A nightmare, retold with lies and a determination to hurt them both. She can’t tell him, not all of it. Not yet. She isn’t willing to do that to him. Best that she carry the burden on her own until she’s more sure…
“He… tried it on with me. A few days ago. I didn’t. I hated him, but I thought… I thought he might have spun it otherwise.”
James shakes his head, the anger closer to the surface. “No. He didn’t bother with that, just said he’d made sure you were unable to interfere. Actually didn’t say you were dead, rather inferred it.”
Or Leek had thought she’d back off after being assaulted. “Idiot,” she mutters. “Are we allowed to shoot him, do you think?”
His smirk is feral. “Well, we are allowed to use deadly force if he resists arrest. I’m rather hoping that he does.”
Alex chuckles. The horror is dwindling, though she might not sleep tonight. Still, she feels a little better and pulls herself out of the chair. It’s best she leaves while things are pleasant between them. She can’t handle an argument right now.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she says, then heads quickly for the door. Her name stops her, hand on the handle. She doesn’t turn. “What?”
“I’m glad that you are, as well.”
It comes from behind her, low and laced with emotion. She can’t do this. Not now. Her heart can’t take it. She opens the door. “I need to go.”
He leans past her, his hand flat on the door. It slams into the frame, making the glass shiver. Alex swallows hard. “James.”
“When are you going to stop running?” His tone is almost conversational, but there’s a layer of pain she doesn’t want to hear.
“It still won’t work.”
“You were so sure of us, once.”
“Then I woke up to the responsibilities and the fact I never fitted in. You needed someone who wouldn’t be a burden.”
“I wanted you. I didn’t need anything else.”
Alex loses her fight against the tears. “That’s easy to say, but harder to live. I can’t be the proper little wife, James. You know I can’t.”
He turns her and she quails at the determination on his face. “Did I ask that of you?”
“No, but-”
“But what, Alexis? It was bloody simple, before you went and made it complicated. I didn’t understand then, and I’m not sure I do now. What the hell was wrong with us?”
She gulps past the lump in her throat. “Nothing. We were perfect. But it wouldn’t have stayed that way.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can! We lived in different worlds, James. There was no getting past that. As much as I loved you, I couldn’t… People would have judged you poorly for your choice, and I’d have been the gold digger and… I couldn’t live with that.”
His expression goes bleak. “So you ran away. Left me high and dry, with no explanation. Yeah, you must have loved me all right.”
“I did.” She shakes her head in despair. “And I still do. You scared me half to death today. The thought of losing you…”
James grits his teeth. He gives her a little shake, then yanks her into his arms. She balks, because she’s all too aware of his injured chest, but he’s stronger than she remembers and wriggling doesn’t get her anywhere.
“Did someone say something to you?”
She remembers the ball; it was the worst night of her life. “Y-yes. At the New Year’s Ball. I didn’t know who she was, but she said… she mentioned how incompatible we were, how I’d end up being something I loathed, how we’d end up hating each other.” Alex lets out a hollow laugh. “Pretty much every doubt and fear I’d held since you proposed.”
James sighs. “And you didn’t mention this to me because?” Then he holds her at arms’ length. “What woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did she look like?”
Alex thinks back. “My height, dark hair. Pretty in a sharp sort of way. She wore a black cocktail dress and pumps. I remember that, because it seemed odd she wasn’t in heels.”
James’s expression is wary. “Did she have a name?”
“I didn’t ask. She walked off and I went home.”
He pulls away and stalks to his desk, rooting through papers. Then he holds up a photograph. “This her?”
The image is of a woman with ruffled hair wearing a rough jacket and trousers. But the face is the same. “Yes. Why do you have a photo of her?”
“Because that is Helen Cutter.” James slams a fist down on the desk. “Dammit!”