fic: Tom Cruise Must Die (9/10)
Title: Tom Cruise Must Die (9/10)
Cast: Kristen Bell. Jason Dohring. Joshua Jackson. With sundry guest stars of the CW and Scientology variety!
Authors: buffyx & missdeviant
Rating: NC-17 (this section is R)
Notes/Warnings: Rule number one of VM RPS: Do not talk about VM RPS. Not to the actors, anyway. It's just not cool, and DEFINITELY NOT AT ALL FUNNY, OKAY? OKAY. Just so we're clear!
PREVIOUSLY ON "TOM CRUISE MUST DIE": After being kidnapped and trapped by Tom Cruise and his minions, our intrepid heroes were liberated by a team of Resistance members breaking into the secret lab. Immediately after escaping her glass box of doom, Kristen ran into Jason's arms and made out with him. A lot. And then they decided to bolt. WHAT HAPPENS NEXT???????
Despite the ensuing chaos, Jason’s iron-clad grip on her wrist ensures that Kristen is able to stick close to him, even as they shove through the disarray and toward the exit. Just as they’re about to spill out of the main lab, someone’s arm grapples around her waist, ripping her back so hard that it breaks Jason’s hold.
A shocked yelp escapes her as she’s dragged backward, and she struggles hard, legs lashing out. Jason’s head whips around to see her being pulled back into the fray.
“Hang on!” he yells.
The scream in her throat dies instantly when she feels the metallic press of a gun’s barrel against the back of her neck. For a few seconds she is frozen with fear, but when her assailant pauses to shift his clutch around her middle, she comes back to her senses and drives her elbow hard into his ribcage. No way is she going to die, not now, not after everything.
No fucking way.
It manages to slow the Org guard down, at the very least, and just as she starts to twist away, Jason dives at the guy. She rolls out of the way and turns to see them tussling behind her on the cement floor. A few punches to the face later, and Jason emerges victor, probably slamming the guard’s head into the concrete with more force than necessary.
"Jason-" Kristen starts uneasily, her stomach knotting at the sight of the guard’s blood-smeared face, but he’s already standing up.
The merciless expression on his face silences her, and he wordlessly tucks the discarded gun into his waistband and grabs her by the arm, propelling them toward the exit again.
Once they’re outside of the torture chamber, Kristen is struck by how much the underground labs resemble the medical center in Clearwater, and the déjà vu nearly overwhelms her. Or maybe it's just residual effects from being TRAPPED IN A GLASS BOX.
Before more Storm Trooper backups can come flooding down the main corridor, Jason yanks her down the hall to their right, pushing through heavy double doors. He continues to plow forward, but Kristen digs in her heels when she sees a janitorial closet. She wrenches away from him and makes a beeline for the handle. It’s not locked, so she throws the door to it open.
"What are you-" Jason’s voice is shaking with agitation and confusion, but she ignores him, digging through the contents, bottles of cleaning fluids and packages of toilet paper scattering to the floor as she rummages haphazardly through the supplies.
Finally she finds it: a long-handled wooden mop. She snatches it and flies at the double doors. Shoves it through the handles, angling it at a slant so that it’s anchored down and won’t slide out. If anyone tries to push through on the other side, the mop will effectively bar them out. Hopefully it’ll buy them a little time.
If Jason is impressed by her show of spontaneous ingenuity, he isn’t showing it. In fact, even though he’s no longer tied down in a chair and being tortured by Tom Cruise and his minions, he has this… look on his face. Like he’s trapped, or unraveling, barely holding his shit together. She wants to say something, but this is so not the place, and there just-- there isn’t time.
With the doors shut behind them, they’ve been plunged into relative silence. Her ears are still ringing from the explosions that had set off in the main lab, and when she presses her thumb to her pulse point, she can feel her heart thudding wildly underneath the thin skin.
“Any idea what we’re looking for?” she asks breathlessly, breaking into a brisk jog to catch up with Jason as he strides down the hall.
He’s briefly examining each door they pass, peering in on the ones that have small windows, checking the knobs and handles. He doesn’t even slow down as he shakes his head and says, “No clue.”
Okay, that’s not exactly what she was hoping to hear. Dismay begins to fill her which each door they walk by. If this place is anywhere near as elaborate as the Center was, they’re doomed. At least then they had the blueprints, knew where to look. But here-here, it’ll be next to impossible, unless karma really does exist, and they’re amazingly lucky enough to stumble across it by accident.
That’s when they come to the end of the hall, and her eyes focus on the door straight ahead. It’s painted black and windowless, unlike the dark blue doors they’ve passed so far, and as she gets closer, she notices that the paint is chipped around the handle, dents made in the wood-it’s been pounded on and pried open, resting slightly ajar.
“Jason, look,” she says, reaching back and tugging on his sleeve.
He turns, peers at the door; she looks at his face and sees a glimmer of triumph.
“Gotta be it,” he mumbles with a nod, like he’s attempting to convince himself.
They hurry through the black door and emerge into another hallway. This one is darker, the lights above dimmer and flickering sporadically, and Kristen stays practically glued to Jason. Every random noise is causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. Her hand curls around the hem of his t-shirt, which is slick with sweat and still-drying blood.
She really doesn’t want to think about who that blood belongs to.
Just when she’s convinced that this is a dead end, there’s the loud thud of a door being thrown open, a dark figure materializing out of a doorway before them.
Swallowing a gasp, she leaps back as Jason withdraws his gun from his waistband, cocking it expertly.
“About time you showed up.”
She recognizes the person behind the words instantly. She looks over Jason’s shoulder and sees Craww standing in front of them. His fist is wrapped around a crowbar that he twirls a bit before dropping completely, grinning when it lands on the hard ground with a clatter. In his other hand is a gun, but it’s directed straight up at the ceiling.
“Where is she?” Jason questions, his tone hostile, muscles rigid. He’s like a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment. His hand stays perfectly steady as he points the gun straight into Craww’s smiling face.
“It’s started,” he responds simply, unflinching.
"No. No, it can’t-" Eyes widening, Jason shakes his head. "Did you--?"
"I thought I could, you know. Do it. She was right there…" Craww’s voice dissolves into a spurt of laughter tinged with hysteria. "Guess you can’t throw fate off the tracks, eh? Everything’s unfolding like they said, the stars are mirrored, only through the end can be there be a beginning-"
He trails off, and the overhead lamps flicker on again, casting light across his features. His beady eyes are shining and red, forehead coated in a sheen of sweat. The color is drained completely from his face. His babbling isn’t making sense, and each second that passes leaves Kristen painfully aware of how their limited window of opportunity here is shrinking at a drastic rate.
"Someone want to get me in the loop here?" she cuts in, looking back and forth between the two men. "Where is Sara? We have to get her now, before-"
“You’re the one,” Craww says to Jason, fervent.
“No.” He shakes his head, mouth gaping. “No, I’m not.”
But Craww ignores him, pressing on.
“From the Death will emerge the One,” he recites, “and the One will carry the Fate of all in his hands.”
“It’s a lie,” Jason insists.
"It’s you, it was always you. The prophecies. It’s the only thing that adds up-"
“I won’t.” Jason is still staring and shaking his head, and Kristen notices his outstretched arms trembling slightly. “I can’t.”
“Please, just tell us where she is!” she beseeches Craww, voice straining.
His eyes flicker to hers, and he fixes her with a strangely calm smile.
“Well, I won’t be going out with a whimper,” he says, “so I guess that just leaves the other alternative.”
Jason lowers the gun, pointing it at the floor, looking stunned. The words slowly sink in, and Kristen just stares, completely thrown.
She’s still trying to figure it all out when Craww puts his mouth over his gun and pulls the trigger.
The cracking sound of the gunshot shocks Kristen into a scream, and when she opens her eyes and sees Craww’s body slumped against the doorframe, she screams again.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck ohfuckfuckfuck, oh-
It’s too much. Her vision go fuzzy around the edges as she stumbles backward, almost falls over herself as she spins. Her legs buckle and she drops to her knees. She thinks she’s going to throw up, and then she knows she is, and then she’s doing it, right there. Empties the contents of her stomach onto the floor. Keeps going until her body is racked with dry heaves, salty tears trailing down her nose and into the corners of her mouth.
Kristen can’t stop shaking, her breath coming out ragged and hard, and she blinks furiously, trying to get control of herself. Spits a few times before she wipes off her mouth on her papery scrub pants. Her limbs feel rubbery, but she manages to collect herself enough to rise to her feet.
“J-Jason?” she calls out weakly, glancing around, careful to avoid looking at where Craww’s body is still sprawled.
But Jason isn’t there. She quickly realizes he must’ve gone through the doorway Craww had been blocking. Taking a deep breath, she steps toward it, can’t help but whimper a little as she delicately steps over the body and hurries into the adjacent room.
It’s another lab-steel gray walls, freezing cold cement flooring, fluorescent tubes emitting an eerie white glow. There’s an incessant buzzing sound, but at this point Kristen’s not sure if it’s coming from the stark machinery lining the room or just from inside her own head. She pushes a hand through her hair and looks around, searching for Jason.
Toward the back, she finds him. Makes out the silhouette of his back. He is standing in front of a long, flat table, one that’s illuminated by a huge lamp overhead, three lit up machines surrounding it. That would explain the buzzing.
As she comes nearer, she suddenly sees what Jason is standing over: Sara. It’s Sara.
The wave of relief that washes over her is so overpowering that she almost collapses right there and then. That’s it, it’s over, they’ve found her and now they can bring her back, and everything will be okay, it’ll all be okay because she’s here. That realization causes her to burst into exhausted, joyful tears.
“You found her,” says Kristen, voice choked with emotion. “You found her, you found her.”
She can’t stop repeating the words, over and over, rushing forward to see for herself.
And that’s when she notices: something isn’t right.
Jason, Jason isn’t saying anything, and his hand-it’s clamped tight over Sara’s mouth and nose. Her round eyes are open wide, glassy and unfocused, staring into nothing, her skin a sickly blue pallor. It takes Kristen a few seconds to register what is happening, and when she finally does, she’s paralyzed with absolute horror.
But something in her clicks into place, and she grasps Jason’s arm, clawing wildly at his skin as she tries to pry him off of the baby.
“What are you doing?” she cries, panic rising in her chest. “Oh my god, oh my god-- Jason, let go! Let go!”
He releases Sara suddenly and staggers backward until he hits the wall. Ignoring him, Kristen reaches for Sara, untangling her from the mess of wires and tubes, picking her small body up off of the table. She feels heavier than Kristen remembers, and as she’s lifted her head rolls back like a limp rag doll.
"No," murmurs Kristen, setting her back down, "no, no, no - oh my god- you can’t be-"
No, she can’t even think that, she can’t. It can’t be too late, she can still do something, anything. It’s not too late, it can’t be too late. She refuses to give up now. Her hand smoothes across Sara’s forehead, which is chilly to the touch. She just-she needs to be warmed up, is all. That’s it, if she can just do that. It’ll help.
"Blankets," she says. "We just-we need blankets, or something, it’s too cold. Jason, help me, please, we just have to- Jason, what did you do?"
But it’s no use; he’s still sagged against the wall, reeling, withdrawing into himself. There’s the sudden echo of hurried footsteps, and Kristen freezes, not knowing what to do. Jason is too out of it, there’s nowhere to hide, and she’s sure as hell not about to leave Sara behind, not now.
Just as she’s about to duck behind one of the gargantuan machines and form some kind of plan of action, she glances up and realizes that the figure rushing at them is Josh. His face is battered, covered with streaks of sweat and ash and blood, but he barrels forward, undeterred.
"Where is she?" he demands frantically. "Tell me where-"
The words die on his lips as his eyes fall on Sara’s unmoving body, arranged neatly on the lab table. Josh moves to the table, cradles Sara in his arms, burying her tight against his chest. A low, guttural moan escapes him, utterly gut wrenching, and Kristen is almost glad that she’s crying so hard her vision is blinded because she can’t bear to watch. She can’t move, can barely breathe, a constant stream of tears sliding down her face like rivulets.
Josh rocks her back and forth, mumbling incoherent words into the baby’s hair, breathing hard. Finally he lays her back down, glances over at Kristen. He turns his head and sees Jason, against the wall, and something in his eyes flashes. A sudden awareness.
“You,” he says, taking a step in Jason’s direction. “You did this, didn’t you.”
It’s not even a question, and Jason doesn’t bother to answer. He just stares up at Josh, unblinking.
"You son of a bitch," Josh growls. "You son of a bitch. I’m going to kill you, I swear to god, I’m going to tear you to fucking pieces-"
Josh charges at him with a furious roar, the impact throwing Jason back up against the wall. It seems to snap him out of his haze-he scuffles back, sending them tumbling across the room. Josh retaliates, decking him hard, snapping his head to the side. Kristen rushes to pull them apart.
“Stop it! Stop!” she screams. “You’re going to kill him! Just stop!”
“I trusted you!” Josh bellows, grabbing a fistful of Jason’s shirt front and yanking him in close. “I trusted you, and-and this is how you repay me?”
His voice breaks off, sick with betrayal.
“I did what I had to,” retorts Jason evenly. “I did what you couldn’t!”
Those words seem to hit Josh hard, and he falters for a moment, reacting. Kristen takes the opportunity to push herself between the two men.
"You guys, please!" she pleads. "We have to get out of here, we have to, before-"
A single gunshot cuts her off mid-sentence.
A jolt of terror shoots through her, and she doesn’t have time to scream, only covers her head with both hands, waiting for the searing pain she imagines would accompany a gunshot wound to rip through her body. But there’s nothing, and when she opens her eyes, she only sees Josh, looking panicked.
His gaze shifts over her shoulder and she turns to see Jason- his face is blanched, expression slack with shock as he touches one hand to his shoulder. When he pulls it away, Kristen can see that it’s covered in blood. His blood. Oh god.
“J-Jason,” she stammers, reaching for him as he stumbles back a half-step.
He sways on his feet for a few seconds before dropping to his knees. Kristen drops to his side, kneeling next to him, one hand behind his head, the other pressed against his bleeding shoulder. She says his name, over and over. It feels like there’s a weight on her chest; his wound is warm and wet and almost pulsing underneath her palm. Totally disgusting, but she hardly notices, just tries to apply as much pressure as she can muster.
Jason meets her gaze, but it’s a struggle, like he’s having trouble focusing, and a pained grunt escapes from between his clenched teeth.
“One down.”
Kristen doesn’t have to look up to know who the person behind the words is, but she does anyway, a burning knot forming in her stomach. It’s Tom Cruise. Of course. Of course he would come after them, of course he would be here. Of course it couldn’t be that easy.
His long bangs drip with sweat, falling across his gleaming, manic eyes. He’s holding onto the handgun that had let out the shot just moments before as he stares Kristen down with a cold, beady glare.
“You’re the reason my daughter is dead,” he growls. “You stole my Kate from me. You have ruined my life. And now? You pay.”
He points the gun at Kristen, and she swallows hard around the lump blocking her throat, frozen. Josh immediately begins to rush toward her defensively; just as he does, Tom turns the gun at him, index finger curling around the trigger.
“Make another move and you’re a goner, Jackson,” spits Tom.
Josh balls up his fists at his sides. “One way or another, we end this. Now.”
This causes Tom to cackle, head thrown back. “You really think you’re going to get out of this alive?”
“Maybe,” Josh shrugs, taking a step toward him, “and maybe not. But you know, to die would be an awfully big adventure.”
Before Tom can do anything with his weapon, before Josh can move another inch, before Kristen can even think about what she’s doing, she reaches into Jason’s belt and whips out his gun in one fluid motion. The safety’s already been clicked off, and without a moment’s hesitation, she aims it at Tom Cruise.
She pulls the trigger.
One shot fires off, and then another, and another. Tom Cruise lets out a cry, the gun in his hand falling carelessly to the ground; he soon follows it, tumbling down to the floor. Both of his hands cover his groin area, the spot that she’d wounded him with three shots. He begins to roll around on the cement, slurred, meaningless babbles and moans spilling out of him.
A minute or so passes and she can’t move, can only sit there, breathing hard, still clutching the gun tightly in her hands. What just happened? Did she seriously just shoot Tom Cruise in the balls? This can’t be happening. This is not her life. It’s just too fucking strange, she can’t even begin to handle it.
Finally Josh stoops next to her.
“Let me have that,” he says quietly, and she relinquishes it to him without question.
He walks forward slowly until he’s at the foot of Tom Cruise’s writhing body. For a few seconds he just stands there, like he’s contemplating something, and then he raises the gun. Empties the chamber into Tom Cruise’s chest in quick succession. He reserves the last bullet for in-between the eyes, and after that, there’s only the empty click-click of the unloaded gun.
Kristen lays Jason on the ground-he’s in too much pain to speak, is only able to make these shuddery gasping noises. She rises unsteadily to her feet and rushes to Josh’s side. Grabs at his arm, tries to pry the gun from his hand.
"Josh, please, it’s done. It’s over. We have to-- we have to get out of here," she begs, voice urgent. "And Jason-- oh god, there's so much blood..."
He looks at her, his face a cold, blank mask. “I’ll take you. But not him. Not him.”
“We can’t leave him!” she cries.
“He killed Sara!”
“There wasn’t a CHOICE!” Desperation claws at her throat, and she grabs at the front of his shirt, frantic. “No one gets left behind. No one, okay? No one.”
He pauses, setting his jaw, before looking away. Clears his throat and nods.
With Josh’s wordless compliance, she rushes back to Jason’s side. Josh joins her, helps hoist him to his feet, slings one of Jason’s arms over his shoulders, and Kristen takes the opportunity to run back to the lab table. Sara is still there, and she lifts the baby’s heavy body into her arms, cradles her tightly against her chest.
Josh turns and looks at her grimly. “Let’s go.”
**
“There’s a meeting point,” Josh explains when they re-enter the maze of hallways of the compound.
Kristen knows better than to question him; at this point, she’d follow anyone if they promised her a way out. She thinks about the last time she saw her closet, and drank her favorite cappucino, and walked her dogs through Central Park. It hasn’t been that long, not really, but it feels like a lifetime ago. For the bazillionth time, she wonders how on earth she ended up at this place in her life.
These corridors are far away from the main lab, away from the action-she can’t even hear any of it anymore, the echoes of explosions fading to nothing. As they hurry along, it feels like they’re only getting themselves more lost, but Josh swears that this is the right way.
Sure enough, they round a corner and Regan is waiting for them.
“You made it,” she breathes in relief, sounding as if she was not at all certain that they would. “Did you--?”
Josh stops her with one hand held up and says, “Later. When there’s… time.”
She looks past him and sees Sara in Kristen’s arms. The realization seems to dawn instantly, but instead of asking any questions, Regan merely nods curtly, helping move them along. There’s a hatch-like door along the wall-she cracks it open with a crowbar she has, stands back and lets them all file through first. Steps through and seals it shut behind them with a clang.
Everything is dark; they’ve stumbled into what looks like a sewer tunnel. The ground beneath Kristen’s feet is cold and damp. She’s pretty sure she’s cut the bottom of her left heel on some glass, but she’s too numb to really feel the pain. She half-limps on the ball of her foot, hugging Sara’s body closer, focusing on following the silhouette of Josh and Jason’s adjacent forms.
Keep going, she has to keep going-they steal silently through the darkened tunnels, the only sounds being their ragged breaths and the dripping of water off the curved ceiling overhead. She’s not sure how long they’ve been walking-twenty minutes? an hour? two?-before Regan calls out from behind, tells them to stop.
“It’s here,” she explains, pushes past Kristen and Josh and Jason to the front of the group.
There’s a thin metal ladder attached to the wall, leading up to a hatch on the ceiling. Regan ascends it, takes the crowbar into her hand and pries the door open, pushing it up and out. She climbs up and out, sticks her head back down the hole and gestures for Josh to come along. He shuffles over, still supporting Jason, and with a fair amount of grunting and difficulty, is able to help push him out first before following.
The rungs of the ladder bite painfully into her bare feet, but she gingerly steps up, her arm still clamped around the infant’s middle. Josh grasps her around the back and helps tug her all the way through, and suddenly she’s sprawled out on the cold ground, still holding onto Sara.
She blinks up at the purple sky, and is surprised to see dawn curling over the horizon in the distance.
**
There’s a black van waiting, not far from where they are.
Jason is the first to be taken care of; there’s a small group of Resistance members who swarm around him, whisk him away. Kristen wants to say something, to follow him, but it all happens too fast. She tries to catch up to Josh but he’s already walking away from her.
Regan stands beside her, sets her hand on her shoulder.
“Kristen,” she says, gentle but firm, and begins to extract Sara from her arms.
Kristen is too drained to protest. She’s weaving back and forth a little on her feet, unsure of how much longer she’s going to be able to stand of her own volition. Every time she moves she sees black spots appear in front of her eyes. That can’t be good.
“Put her where she can see the birds,” she insists hoarsely. “Yeah. Yeah, she likes that.”
Regan nods like this makes sense, and hands the child off to another Resistance member, whispers something under her breath that Kristen doesn’t catch. Without Sara’s body in her arms, she feels colder, and she begins to shiver in the freezing air, vaguely aware of the snow drifting down in thick flakes that stick to her hair. She hovers back as the others mill about, loading into the vehicle.
Finally, everyone else is inside, and Kristen stands in the snow, alone. She feels like she’s inside of a fog, watching all of this activity from somewhere outside of her body. Regan looks out, quizzical, calls her name. The sound of it snaps her out of her reverie, and she slowly staggers toward the van, hesitates before stepping in.
Regan’s hand reaches out, clasps her own, pulling her inside-into the dark, or maybe into the light.
A/N: To say this chapter is overdue would be, well, quite the understatement. I wrote the bulk of this one, with structure help from missdeviant. Actually I'm posting this without having her look over it a final time, so if it sucks? Blame it all on me. I know after reading this some things might not make sense, but that's purposeful, and the next part will shed light on things that are unclear, hopefully. And the last line is a PURPOSEFUL SHOUTOUT to The Handmaid's Tale, a novel both missdeviant and I adore, and one that inspired parts of this story.
Cast: Kristen Bell. Jason Dohring. Joshua Jackson. With sundry guest stars of the CW and Scientology variety!
Authors: buffyx & missdeviant
Rating: NC-17 (this section is R)
Notes/Warnings: Rule number one of VM RPS: Do not talk about VM RPS. Not to the actors, anyway. It's just not cool, and DEFINITELY NOT AT ALL FUNNY, OKAY? OKAY. Just so we're clear!
PREVIOUSLY ON "TOM CRUISE MUST DIE": After being kidnapped and trapped by Tom Cruise and his minions, our intrepid heroes were liberated by a team of Resistance members breaking into the secret lab. Immediately after escaping her glass box of doom, Kristen ran into Jason's arms and made out with him. A lot. And then they decided to bolt. WHAT HAPPENS NEXT???????
Despite the ensuing chaos, Jason’s iron-clad grip on her wrist ensures that Kristen is able to stick close to him, even as they shove through the disarray and toward the exit. Just as they’re about to spill out of the main lab, someone’s arm grapples around her waist, ripping her back so hard that it breaks Jason’s hold.
A shocked yelp escapes her as she’s dragged backward, and she struggles hard, legs lashing out. Jason’s head whips around to see her being pulled back into the fray.
“Hang on!” he yells.
The scream in her throat dies instantly when she feels the metallic press of a gun’s barrel against the back of her neck. For a few seconds she is frozen with fear, but when her assailant pauses to shift his clutch around her middle, she comes back to her senses and drives her elbow hard into his ribcage. No way is she going to die, not now, not after everything.
No fucking way.
It manages to slow the Org guard down, at the very least, and just as she starts to twist away, Jason dives at the guy. She rolls out of the way and turns to see them tussling behind her on the cement floor. A few punches to the face later, and Jason emerges victor, probably slamming the guard’s head into the concrete with more force than necessary.
"Jason-" Kristen starts uneasily, her stomach knotting at the sight of the guard’s blood-smeared face, but he’s already standing up.
The merciless expression on his face silences her, and he wordlessly tucks the discarded gun into his waistband and grabs her by the arm, propelling them toward the exit again.
Once they’re outside of the torture chamber, Kristen is struck by how much the underground labs resemble the medical center in Clearwater, and the déjà vu nearly overwhelms her. Or maybe it's just residual effects from being TRAPPED IN A GLASS BOX.
Before more Storm Trooper backups can come flooding down the main corridor, Jason yanks her down the hall to their right, pushing through heavy double doors. He continues to plow forward, but Kristen digs in her heels when she sees a janitorial closet. She wrenches away from him and makes a beeline for the handle. It’s not locked, so she throws the door to it open.
"What are you-" Jason’s voice is shaking with agitation and confusion, but she ignores him, digging through the contents, bottles of cleaning fluids and packages of toilet paper scattering to the floor as she rummages haphazardly through the supplies.
Finally she finds it: a long-handled wooden mop. She snatches it and flies at the double doors. Shoves it through the handles, angling it at a slant so that it’s anchored down and won’t slide out. If anyone tries to push through on the other side, the mop will effectively bar them out. Hopefully it’ll buy them a little time.
If Jason is impressed by her show of spontaneous ingenuity, he isn’t showing it. In fact, even though he’s no longer tied down in a chair and being tortured by Tom Cruise and his minions, he has this… look on his face. Like he’s trapped, or unraveling, barely holding his shit together. She wants to say something, but this is so not the place, and there just-- there isn’t time.
With the doors shut behind them, they’ve been plunged into relative silence. Her ears are still ringing from the explosions that had set off in the main lab, and when she presses her thumb to her pulse point, she can feel her heart thudding wildly underneath the thin skin.
“Any idea what we’re looking for?” she asks breathlessly, breaking into a brisk jog to catch up with Jason as he strides down the hall.
He’s briefly examining each door they pass, peering in on the ones that have small windows, checking the knobs and handles. He doesn’t even slow down as he shakes his head and says, “No clue.”
Okay, that’s not exactly what she was hoping to hear. Dismay begins to fill her which each door they walk by. If this place is anywhere near as elaborate as the Center was, they’re doomed. At least then they had the blueprints, knew where to look. But here-here, it’ll be next to impossible, unless karma really does exist, and they’re amazingly lucky enough to stumble across it by accident.
That’s when they come to the end of the hall, and her eyes focus on the door straight ahead. It’s painted black and windowless, unlike the dark blue doors they’ve passed so far, and as she gets closer, she notices that the paint is chipped around the handle, dents made in the wood-it’s been pounded on and pried open, resting slightly ajar.
“Jason, look,” she says, reaching back and tugging on his sleeve.
He turns, peers at the door; she looks at his face and sees a glimmer of triumph.
“Gotta be it,” he mumbles with a nod, like he’s attempting to convince himself.
They hurry through the black door and emerge into another hallway. This one is darker, the lights above dimmer and flickering sporadically, and Kristen stays practically glued to Jason. Every random noise is causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. Her hand curls around the hem of his t-shirt, which is slick with sweat and still-drying blood.
She really doesn’t want to think about who that blood belongs to.
Just when she’s convinced that this is a dead end, there’s the loud thud of a door being thrown open, a dark figure materializing out of a doorway before them.
Swallowing a gasp, she leaps back as Jason withdraws his gun from his waistband, cocking it expertly.
“About time you showed up.”
She recognizes the person behind the words instantly. She looks over Jason’s shoulder and sees Craww standing in front of them. His fist is wrapped around a crowbar that he twirls a bit before dropping completely, grinning when it lands on the hard ground with a clatter. In his other hand is a gun, but it’s directed straight up at the ceiling.
“Where is she?” Jason questions, his tone hostile, muscles rigid. He’s like a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment. His hand stays perfectly steady as he points the gun straight into Craww’s smiling face.
“It’s started,” he responds simply, unflinching.
"No. No, it can’t-" Eyes widening, Jason shakes his head. "Did you--?"
"I thought I could, you know. Do it. She was right there…" Craww’s voice dissolves into a spurt of laughter tinged with hysteria. "Guess you can’t throw fate off the tracks, eh? Everything’s unfolding like they said, the stars are mirrored, only through the end can be there be a beginning-"
He trails off, and the overhead lamps flicker on again, casting light across his features. His beady eyes are shining and red, forehead coated in a sheen of sweat. The color is drained completely from his face. His babbling isn’t making sense, and each second that passes leaves Kristen painfully aware of how their limited window of opportunity here is shrinking at a drastic rate.
"Someone want to get me in the loop here?" she cuts in, looking back and forth between the two men. "Where is Sara? We have to get her now, before-"
“You’re the one,” Craww says to Jason, fervent.
“No.” He shakes his head, mouth gaping. “No, I’m not.”
But Craww ignores him, pressing on.
“From the Death will emerge the One,” he recites, “and the One will carry the Fate of all in his hands.”
“It’s a lie,” Jason insists.
"It’s you, it was always you. The prophecies. It’s the only thing that adds up-"
“I won’t.” Jason is still staring and shaking his head, and Kristen notices his outstretched arms trembling slightly. “I can’t.”
“Please, just tell us where she is!” she beseeches Craww, voice straining.
His eyes flicker to hers, and he fixes her with a strangely calm smile.
“Well, I won’t be going out with a whimper,” he says, “so I guess that just leaves the other alternative.”
Jason lowers the gun, pointing it at the floor, looking stunned. The words slowly sink in, and Kristen just stares, completely thrown.
She’s still trying to figure it all out when Craww puts his mouth over his gun and pulls the trigger.
The cracking sound of the gunshot shocks Kristen into a scream, and when she opens her eyes and sees Craww’s body slumped against the doorframe, she screams again.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck ohfuckfuckfuck, oh-
It’s too much. Her vision go fuzzy around the edges as she stumbles backward, almost falls over herself as she spins. Her legs buckle and she drops to her knees. She thinks she’s going to throw up, and then she knows she is, and then she’s doing it, right there. Empties the contents of her stomach onto the floor. Keeps going until her body is racked with dry heaves, salty tears trailing down her nose and into the corners of her mouth.
Kristen can’t stop shaking, her breath coming out ragged and hard, and she blinks furiously, trying to get control of herself. Spits a few times before she wipes off her mouth on her papery scrub pants. Her limbs feel rubbery, but she manages to collect herself enough to rise to her feet.
“J-Jason?” she calls out weakly, glancing around, careful to avoid looking at where Craww’s body is still sprawled.
But Jason isn’t there. She quickly realizes he must’ve gone through the doorway Craww had been blocking. Taking a deep breath, she steps toward it, can’t help but whimper a little as she delicately steps over the body and hurries into the adjacent room.
It’s another lab-steel gray walls, freezing cold cement flooring, fluorescent tubes emitting an eerie white glow. There’s an incessant buzzing sound, but at this point Kristen’s not sure if it’s coming from the stark machinery lining the room or just from inside her own head. She pushes a hand through her hair and looks around, searching for Jason.
Toward the back, she finds him. Makes out the silhouette of his back. He is standing in front of a long, flat table, one that’s illuminated by a huge lamp overhead, three lit up machines surrounding it. That would explain the buzzing.
As she comes nearer, she suddenly sees what Jason is standing over: Sara. It’s Sara.
The wave of relief that washes over her is so overpowering that she almost collapses right there and then. That’s it, it’s over, they’ve found her and now they can bring her back, and everything will be okay, it’ll all be okay because she’s here. That realization causes her to burst into exhausted, joyful tears.
“You found her,” says Kristen, voice choked with emotion. “You found her, you found her.”
She can’t stop repeating the words, over and over, rushing forward to see for herself.
And that’s when she notices: something isn’t right.
Jason, Jason isn’t saying anything, and his hand-it’s clamped tight over Sara’s mouth and nose. Her round eyes are open wide, glassy and unfocused, staring into nothing, her skin a sickly blue pallor. It takes Kristen a few seconds to register what is happening, and when she finally does, she’s paralyzed with absolute horror.
But something in her clicks into place, and she grasps Jason’s arm, clawing wildly at his skin as she tries to pry him off of the baby.
“What are you doing?” she cries, panic rising in her chest. “Oh my god, oh my god-- Jason, let go! Let go!”
He releases Sara suddenly and staggers backward until he hits the wall. Ignoring him, Kristen reaches for Sara, untangling her from the mess of wires and tubes, picking her small body up off of the table. She feels heavier than Kristen remembers, and as she’s lifted her head rolls back like a limp rag doll.
"No," murmurs Kristen, setting her back down, "no, no, no - oh my god- you can’t be-"
No, she can’t even think that, she can’t. It can’t be too late, she can still do something, anything. It’s not too late, it can’t be too late. She refuses to give up now. Her hand smoothes across Sara’s forehead, which is chilly to the touch. She just-she needs to be warmed up, is all. That’s it, if she can just do that. It’ll help.
"Blankets," she says. "We just-we need blankets, or something, it’s too cold. Jason, help me, please, we just have to- Jason, what did you do?"
But it’s no use; he’s still sagged against the wall, reeling, withdrawing into himself. There’s the sudden echo of hurried footsteps, and Kristen freezes, not knowing what to do. Jason is too out of it, there’s nowhere to hide, and she’s sure as hell not about to leave Sara behind, not now.
Just as she’s about to duck behind one of the gargantuan machines and form some kind of plan of action, she glances up and realizes that the figure rushing at them is Josh. His face is battered, covered with streaks of sweat and ash and blood, but he barrels forward, undeterred.
"Where is she?" he demands frantically. "Tell me where-"
The words die on his lips as his eyes fall on Sara’s unmoving body, arranged neatly on the lab table. Josh moves to the table, cradles Sara in his arms, burying her tight against his chest. A low, guttural moan escapes him, utterly gut wrenching, and Kristen is almost glad that she’s crying so hard her vision is blinded because she can’t bear to watch. She can’t move, can barely breathe, a constant stream of tears sliding down her face like rivulets.
Josh rocks her back and forth, mumbling incoherent words into the baby’s hair, breathing hard. Finally he lays her back down, glances over at Kristen. He turns his head and sees Jason, against the wall, and something in his eyes flashes. A sudden awareness.
“You,” he says, taking a step in Jason’s direction. “You did this, didn’t you.”
It’s not even a question, and Jason doesn’t bother to answer. He just stares up at Josh, unblinking.
"You son of a bitch," Josh growls. "You son of a bitch. I’m going to kill you, I swear to god, I’m going to tear you to fucking pieces-"
Josh charges at him with a furious roar, the impact throwing Jason back up against the wall. It seems to snap him out of his haze-he scuffles back, sending them tumbling across the room. Josh retaliates, decking him hard, snapping his head to the side. Kristen rushes to pull them apart.
“Stop it! Stop!” she screams. “You’re going to kill him! Just stop!”
“I trusted you!” Josh bellows, grabbing a fistful of Jason’s shirt front and yanking him in close. “I trusted you, and-and this is how you repay me?”
His voice breaks off, sick with betrayal.
“I did what I had to,” retorts Jason evenly. “I did what you couldn’t!”
Those words seem to hit Josh hard, and he falters for a moment, reacting. Kristen takes the opportunity to push herself between the two men.
"You guys, please!" she pleads. "We have to get out of here, we have to, before-"
A single gunshot cuts her off mid-sentence.
A jolt of terror shoots through her, and she doesn’t have time to scream, only covers her head with both hands, waiting for the searing pain she imagines would accompany a gunshot wound to rip through her body. But there’s nothing, and when she opens her eyes, she only sees Josh, looking panicked.
His gaze shifts over her shoulder and she turns to see Jason- his face is blanched, expression slack with shock as he touches one hand to his shoulder. When he pulls it away, Kristen can see that it’s covered in blood. His blood. Oh god.
“J-Jason,” she stammers, reaching for him as he stumbles back a half-step.
He sways on his feet for a few seconds before dropping to his knees. Kristen drops to his side, kneeling next to him, one hand behind his head, the other pressed against his bleeding shoulder. She says his name, over and over. It feels like there’s a weight on her chest; his wound is warm and wet and almost pulsing underneath her palm. Totally disgusting, but she hardly notices, just tries to apply as much pressure as she can muster.
Jason meets her gaze, but it’s a struggle, like he’s having trouble focusing, and a pained grunt escapes from between his clenched teeth.
“One down.”
Kristen doesn’t have to look up to know who the person behind the words is, but she does anyway, a burning knot forming in her stomach. It’s Tom Cruise. Of course. Of course he would come after them, of course he would be here. Of course it couldn’t be that easy.
His long bangs drip with sweat, falling across his gleaming, manic eyes. He’s holding onto the handgun that had let out the shot just moments before as he stares Kristen down with a cold, beady glare.
“You’re the reason my daughter is dead,” he growls. “You stole my Kate from me. You have ruined my life. And now? You pay.”
He points the gun at Kristen, and she swallows hard around the lump blocking her throat, frozen. Josh immediately begins to rush toward her defensively; just as he does, Tom turns the gun at him, index finger curling around the trigger.
“Make another move and you’re a goner, Jackson,” spits Tom.
Josh balls up his fists at his sides. “One way or another, we end this. Now.”
This causes Tom to cackle, head thrown back. “You really think you’re going to get out of this alive?”
“Maybe,” Josh shrugs, taking a step toward him, “and maybe not. But you know, to die would be an awfully big adventure.”
Before Tom can do anything with his weapon, before Josh can move another inch, before Kristen can even think about what she’s doing, she reaches into Jason’s belt and whips out his gun in one fluid motion. The safety’s already been clicked off, and without a moment’s hesitation, she aims it at Tom Cruise.
She pulls the trigger.
One shot fires off, and then another, and another. Tom Cruise lets out a cry, the gun in his hand falling carelessly to the ground; he soon follows it, tumbling down to the floor. Both of his hands cover his groin area, the spot that she’d wounded him with three shots. He begins to roll around on the cement, slurred, meaningless babbles and moans spilling out of him.
A minute or so passes and she can’t move, can only sit there, breathing hard, still clutching the gun tightly in her hands. What just happened? Did she seriously just shoot Tom Cruise in the balls? This can’t be happening. This is not her life. It’s just too fucking strange, she can’t even begin to handle it.
Finally Josh stoops next to her.
“Let me have that,” he says quietly, and she relinquishes it to him without question.
He walks forward slowly until he’s at the foot of Tom Cruise’s writhing body. For a few seconds he just stands there, like he’s contemplating something, and then he raises the gun. Empties the chamber into Tom Cruise’s chest in quick succession. He reserves the last bullet for in-between the eyes, and after that, there’s only the empty click-click of the unloaded gun.
Kristen lays Jason on the ground-he’s in too much pain to speak, is only able to make these shuddery gasping noises. She rises unsteadily to her feet and rushes to Josh’s side. Grabs at his arm, tries to pry the gun from his hand.
"Josh, please, it’s done. It’s over. We have to-- we have to get out of here," she begs, voice urgent. "And Jason-- oh god, there's so much blood..."
He looks at her, his face a cold, blank mask. “I’ll take you. But not him. Not him.”
“We can’t leave him!” she cries.
“He killed Sara!”
“There wasn’t a CHOICE!” Desperation claws at her throat, and she grabs at the front of his shirt, frantic. “No one gets left behind. No one, okay? No one.”
He pauses, setting his jaw, before looking away. Clears his throat and nods.
With Josh’s wordless compliance, she rushes back to Jason’s side. Josh joins her, helps hoist him to his feet, slings one of Jason’s arms over his shoulders, and Kristen takes the opportunity to run back to the lab table. Sara is still there, and she lifts the baby’s heavy body into her arms, cradles her tightly against her chest.
Josh turns and looks at her grimly. “Let’s go.”
**
“There’s a meeting point,” Josh explains when they re-enter the maze of hallways of the compound.
Kristen knows better than to question him; at this point, she’d follow anyone if they promised her a way out. She thinks about the last time she saw her closet, and drank her favorite cappucino, and walked her dogs through Central Park. It hasn’t been that long, not really, but it feels like a lifetime ago. For the bazillionth time, she wonders how on earth she ended up at this place in her life.
These corridors are far away from the main lab, away from the action-she can’t even hear any of it anymore, the echoes of explosions fading to nothing. As they hurry along, it feels like they’re only getting themselves more lost, but Josh swears that this is the right way.
Sure enough, they round a corner and Regan is waiting for them.
“You made it,” she breathes in relief, sounding as if she was not at all certain that they would. “Did you--?”
Josh stops her with one hand held up and says, “Later. When there’s… time.”
She looks past him and sees Sara in Kristen’s arms. The realization seems to dawn instantly, but instead of asking any questions, Regan merely nods curtly, helping move them along. There’s a hatch-like door along the wall-she cracks it open with a crowbar she has, stands back and lets them all file through first. Steps through and seals it shut behind them with a clang.
Everything is dark; they’ve stumbled into what looks like a sewer tunnel. The ground beneath Kristen’s feet is cold and damp. She’s pretty sure she’s cut the bottom of her left heel on some glass, but she’s too numb to really feel the pain. She half-limps on the ball of her foot, hugging Sara’s body closer, focusing on following the silhouette of Josh and Jason’s adjacent forms.
Keep going, she has to keep going-they steal silently through the darkened tunnels, the only sounds being their ragged breaths and the dripping of water off the curved ceiling overhead. She’s not sure how long they’ve been walking-twenty minutes? an hour? two?-before Regan calls out from behind, tells them to stop.
“It’s here,” she explains, pushes past Kristen and Josh and Jason to the front of the group.
There’s a thin metal ladder attached to the wall, leading up to a hatch on the ceiling. Regan ascends it, takes the crowbar into her hand and pries the door open, pushing it up and out. She climbs up and out, sticks her head back down the hole and gestures for Josh to come along. He shuffles over, still supporting Jason, and with a fair amount of grunting and difficulty, is able to help push him out first before following.
The rungs of the ladder bite painfully into her bare feet, but she gingerly steps up, her arm still clamped around the infant’s middle. Josh grasps her around the back and helps tug her all the way through, and suddenly she’s sprawled out on the cold ground, still holding onto Sara.
She blinks up at the purple sky, and is surprised to see dawn curling over the horizon in the distance.
**
There’s a black van waiting, not far from where they are.
Jason is the first to be taken care of; there’s a small group of Resistance members who swarm around him, whisk him away. Kristen wants to say something, to follow him, but it all happens too fast. She tries to catch up to Josh but he’s already walking away from her.
Regan stands beside her, sets her hand on her shoulder.
“Kristen,” she says, gentle but firm, and begins to extract Sara from her arms.
Kristen is too drained to protest. She’s weaving back and forth a little on her feet, unsure of how much longer she’s going to be able to stand of her own volition. Every time she moves she sees black spots appear in front of her eyes. That can’t be good.
“Put her where she can see the birds,” she insists hoarsely. “Yeah. Yeah, she likes that.”
Regan nods like this makes sense, and hands the child off to another Resistance member, whispers something under her breath that Kristen doesn’t catch. Without Sara’s body in her arms, she feels colder, and she begins to shiver in the freezing air, vaguely aware of the snow drifting down in thick flakes that stick to her hair. She hovers back as the others mill about, loading into the vehicle.
Finally, everyone else is inside, and Kristen stands in the snow, alone. She feels like she’s inside of a fog, watching all of this activity from somewhere outside of her body. Regan looks out, quizzical, calls her name. The sound of it snaps her out of her reverie, and she slowly staggers toward the van, hesitates before stepping in.
Regan’s hand reaches out, clasps her own, pulling her inside-into the dark, or maybe into the light.
A/N: To say this chapter is overdue would be, well, quite the understatement. I wrote the bulk of this one, with structure help from missdeviant. Actually I'm posting this without having her look over it a final time, so if it sucks? Blame it all on me. I know after reading this some things might not make sense, but that's purposeful, and the next part will shed light on things that are unclear, hopefully. And the last line is a PURPOSEFUL SHOUTOUT to The Handmaid's Tale, a novel both missdeviant and I adore, and one that inspired parts of this story.