[Smoke] - spooks fic
Smoke
S8; Ros Myers, Sarah Caulfield
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pull the trigger."
Smoke
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pull the trigger.”
The woman’s voice sends a shiver down Sarah’s spine and she blinks as she feels the gun barrel pressed hard against the base of her skull. Sarah looks ahead and sees Ros’ reflection in the glass window, half-transparent, half-real.
“Would you do that to a kindred spirit?” she asks, hoping to unbalance the other woman.
Ros’ expression doesn’t change even as she releases the safety catch.
A bitter laugh.
“Especially to a kindred spirit.”
--
The hallway where they stand is dark and Ros is swathed in shadows, still intangible despite being so close Sarah could reach out and touch her skin. A stray beam of light falls on her face, showing the sharp lines and hard eyes, before she fades once again into the black.
“We’re the same, you and I,” Sarah says.
Ros tilts her head a fraction to the side.
“Someone once said something similar to me,” she says eventually.
“Oh?”
“Yes, less than two hours later they were dead.”
Ice floods through Sarah’s veins as she realises there is no possibility she will survive this exchange.
“Now, you tell me everything.”
--
Words tumble from Sarah’s mouth as if of their own accord. Ros listens, stance not wavering, the gun still pointed directly between her eyes. Sarah realises she has never verbalised her reasons for joining Nightingale and they sound foreign to her ears, a mess of circumstance and decisions which in hindsight seem foolish.
Her voice lowers as she nears the finish but she doesn’t look away. The streetlamp outside flickers, makes Ros an illusion that may or may not be real, and as Sarah blinks she wills Ros to disappear.
She doesn’t.
--
“Aren’t you going to pull the trigger?” Sarah asks when Ros doesn’t speak for a full five minutes.
“Undoubtedly,” Ros answers immediately.
“Then why haven’t you?”
Ros shrugs.
“I’m not entirely sure.”
--
Sarah leans against the wall, her back flush against the cold wood.
“My intentions were good,” she says suddenly, breaking the silence that has grown between the two of them.
“And look what happened.”
Sarah looks briefly at the floor and hears Ros take a step back, her heels ringing in the enclosed space.
A flash of light, the sound of a bullet and then...
Then nothing.
Ros doesn’t think of Sarah Caulfield often, she has never been one to dwell on the past, but on quiet days her thoughts wander. She sometimes wishes she could have talked further with the American, for a reason she rarely admits.
It would be like talking to a mirror. Ros looks at her own reflection in the computer screen, fancies she can see Sarah Caulfield somewhere in her green eyes.
Then Harry leans over her shoulder and Sarah disappears like smoke in the wind.
S8; Ros Myers, Sarah Caulfield
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pull the trigger."
Smoke
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pull the trigger.”
The woman’s voice sends a shiver down Sarah’s spine and she blinks as she feels the gun barrel pressed hard against the base of her skull. Sarah looks ahead and sees Ros’ reflection in the glass window, half-transparent, half-real.
“Would you do that to a kindred spirit?” she asks, hoping to unbalance the other woman.
Ros’ expression doesn’t change even as she releases the safety catch.
A bitter laugh.
“Especially to a kindred spirit.”
--
The hallway where they stand is dark and Ros is swathed in shadows, still intangible despite being so close Sarah could reach out and touch her skin. A stray beam of light falls on her face, showing the sharp lines and hard eyes, before she fades once again into the black.
“We’re the same, you and I,” Sarah says.
Ros tilts her head a fraction to the side.
“Someone once said something similar to me,” she says eventually.
“Oh?”
“Yes, less than two hours later they were dead.”
Ice floods through Sarah’s veins as she realises there is no possibility she will survive this exchange.
“Now, you tell me everything.”
--
Words tumble from Sarah’s mouth as if of their own accord. Ros listens, stance not wavering, the gun still pointed directly between her eyes. Sarah realises she has never verbalised her reasons for joining Nightingale and they sound foreign to her ears, a mess of circumstance and decisions which in hindsight seem foolish.
Her voice lowers as she nears the finish but she doesn’t look away. The streetlamp outside flickers, makes Ros an illusion that may or may not be real, and as Sarah blinks she wills Ros to disappear.
She doesn’t.
--
“Aren’t you going to pull the trigger?” Sarah asks when Ros doesn’t speak for a full five minutes.
“Undoubtedly,” Ros answers immediately.
“Then why haven’t you?”
Ros shrugs.
“I’m not entirely sure.”
--
Sarah leans against the wall, her back flush against the cold wood.
“My intentions were good,” she says suddenly, breaking the silence that has grown between the two of them.
“And look what happened.”
Sarah looks briefly at the floor and hears Ros take a step back, her heels ringing in the enclosed space.
A flash of light, the sound of a bullet and then...
Then nothing.
Ros doesn’t think of Sarah Caulfield often, she has never been one to dwell on the past, but on quiet days her thoughts wander. She sometimes wishes she could have talked further with the American, for a reason she rarely admits.
It would be like talking to a mirror. Ros looks at her own reflection in the computer screen, fancies she can see Sarah Caulfield somewhere in her green eyes.
Then Harry leans over her shoulder and Sarah disappears like smoke in the wind.