Chapter Five

Aug 16, 2005 19:52

"Gunshots"

(Sorry this one is so uber-long. I had a lot to accomplish in this chapter.)



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The pistol at his hip slapped his jeans with each step and jostled noisily as he thundered down the steps of his apartment.

"Did you remember to pick up the papers off the step, Jacobi?" Mrs. Morris asked as he passed by her door. Jack spun on his heal and drew his jacket tighter around him to hide the pistol.

"Uh, papers?" he asked, really in too much of a hurry to comprehend what she was saying.

"Yes, boy, papers. Newspapers."

"Ah, no. I'll catch them on the way back. I really have to be--" he tried, toeing his way toward the exit.

"And your rent is due early this month. I've run into a snag." Mrs. Morris said, leaning against the door frame, her pink bath robe coming undone slightly at the waist. Jack sighed and looked around the staircase, trying desperately to look anywhere but at her.

"Yeah. O.K. Look, I--"

"And my cat's gone missing, have you seen her?" she continued, not at all phased by Jack's restless manner. Finally Jack had had it. He needed to leave and he didn't care one minute for that stupid cat of hers.

"Mrs. Morris!" Jack cried, his voice echoing through the corridor. The old hag shut her mouth with an audible snap. "I'm on my way out. Whatever you want, I'll do it later. Now, please, leave me alone." he said, trying desperately to calm his voice and not shout at her. He feared he might have failed in that department because she scowled, turned around and slammed the door a bit more loudly than she needed to.

Jack sighed and rolled his eyes. "Hag." he whispered before continuing his thundering rage down the few flights of stairs. He really hated that woman. She always seemed to catch him at the worst times. He decided a while ago that she had a camera in his apartment, but he tried very hard not to think of that. After all, the bitch was 82. Jack shuddered at the thought again.

"Wonderful. In a few years I'll need therapy for that image." he sighed to himself, pushing the double doors of the apartment building open and stepping out into the city streets. As he glanced down at his watch, he realized he was already late. He hoped to God Lucy wasn't a stickler for time. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice told him that he was.

The walk hadn't taken long, but it did take him to a seedier part of town and he was glad he had bothered to strap the pistol to his leg. He was on a mission and missions usually got fulfilled a little sooner when there were weapons involved.

As he rounded the corner near a run down factory, he saw the brute, Darius, standing with his arms folded in front of him. He was blocking what appeared to be the only entrance and he was quickly scanning the courtyard and scowling. Jack thought he looked like a human version of a bulldog. He was all scowls and brooding glances.

"You should really ask for a raise." Jack said bravely, shoving his hands in his coat pockets and sauntering up to Darius. He gained a little more bravado with the gun strapped to his body. Darius turned a wary gaze on him and narrowed his eyebrows. He uncrossed his arms and stepped back a little so that he could reach the door.

"I'm serious. With your talent you could--"

"Shut up." Darius said flatly, motioning for Jack to step over the threshold. Jack pursed his lips and nodded.

"You got it." he replied softly, walking blindly into the dark building. With his hands jammed deeply into his pockets, he took a cautious step into the burned out warehouse. He thought that at one time it was used to make furniture. Some part of him remembered when he and Diana used to drive by it on their way back from getting Thai. Diana loved Thai.

"Sit down." Darius thundered from behind him. He motioned with a large paw to a small chair at the end of a table. Jack shook his head.

"No thanks."

"Fine." Darius said simply, nodding and walking into the darkness. Jack briefly wondered why Lucy always met him in dark, shady places. Why not a cheerful diner, or a sunny park? Jack inwardly rolled his eyes.

"Because evil people from Hell don't like the sunlight." he whispered sarcastically, looking over his shoulder and hoping he really wasn't alone. He drummed his fingers on the pistol butt through his coat pocket and bounced slightly on his heals.

"Hello, Jacobi." a smooth voice echoed through the factory. Jack squinted through the darkness at the shape heading toward him, his fingers ceasing their drumming suddenly as he took in the image before him.

"Hello, Diana." he replied softly, almost coldly. She smiled at him and took a few more steps. Jack noticed that she seemed to walk like a cat; each step precise and perfect as she made her way toward the table and leaned against it's worn wood surface. She was wearing a brown tank top and a pair of jeans that stopped at the top of a pair of thongs. He smiled inwardly, remembering why he had fallen in love with her. He longed to take her into his arms and cover her mouth with his. His fingers itched to tug at the brown clothe and--

"Did you miss me?"

"Used to." he lied, trying to sound unphased.

"Drop the act. I know you're scared shitless." she replied nochalantly, smiling and shaking her head. She crossed her slender arms over a pair of plump breasts.

"Those are new." he said, motioning toward her chest.

"No. You were just too drunk to notice them," she smiled, her icy gaze coming to fall at his left leg. "Since when do you own a pistol?" she asked, nodding at him. Jack jumped slightly as he realized she could see the gun. He quickly pulled the jacket over it and shrugged.

"I got mugged a few years ago."

"Tragedy."

"Why are you still alive?" he asked, changing the subject and cutting to the chase. He wanted to get everything over with before the memories came rushing back and the tears decided to flow. She was right; he was scared shitless. He was scared and he was upset, but he couldn't let her know that.

"I never died," she said simply, uncrossing her arms and walking toward him. Jack moved the jacket away from his thigh and touched the pistol.

"Today might just be the day I rewrite that history." he hissed, making her aware that he knew just how to use the hunk of metal strapped to his leg.

"Jack, stop it. I'm not an idiot."

"Could have fooled me." he retorted, licking his lips slightly. Diana furrowed her brow, stepped forward and shoved him backward, making him trip over his own feet. He fell with a loud 'thud' and lay stunned as Diana stood over him.

"Listen to me you fuckhead, I'm not here to trade blows with you. I know who you are and I know that you're about to break down into tears. So just shut the fuck up and listen to me for once!" she snarled, reaching down and grabbing him by the shirtfront. Jack quivered slightly, but fell to nodding as her black eyes locked with his grey ones.

"O.K." he replied feebly. Being shoved to the ground made him lose every bit of gumption he had left in him. He could think of nothing else to say as she lifted him to his feet and stepped backward. With a sigh and a slight toss of her head, she cleared her hair from around her face and placed her hands on her hips.

"Why'd you send me the CD?" he asked softly, hoping she wasn't going to hit him. She looked like she was going to but she didn't. Instead she did closed her eyes for a moment in frustration.

"I knew you wouldn't trust Lucy so I had to give you something I knew would grab your attention," she explained, running a hand over her face and shifting her weight slightly. "So, I did the only thing I knew how."

"What? Get me drunk?"

"No. Leave you a message. It's the only way you ever fucking listen to me."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about? I always listened to you!" he snarled, stepping forward so that he was within striking distance.

"No, you didn't Jack. And you still don't." she said forcefully, shaking her head. Jack snarled and pulled the pistol out of it's holster, aiming it at her head.

"Shut up! Just shut up!" he cried, labored breathing taking over and wracking his body. He knew he was going to snap eventually. She was right there in front of him, but all she could talk about was him. How wrong he was. How stupid and ignorant. No. He was finished. He wanted answers and he wanted her face to go away. He wanted her to go away like she did five years ago so he could just walk back home and drink himself into a coma...

"Jack, stop it."

"No! Stop telling me what to do!" he said, tears finally taking over like he knew they would. "You took everything I had. You were everything I had. But, you ran away to make a deal with the Devil and now you expect me to accept that?! You can do what you want, but you're not dragging me into this!" he screamed, the gun shaking in his hand. The emotions were coming too fast for his brain to handle and his gut begged for a drink.

"Jacobi..."

"Fuck off!" he snarled. The trigger slipped under his forefinger. The sound of the gunshot rang through the empty factory and the recoil sent him backwards onto his ass. As the smoke cleared and a moment of hushed silence fell over the room he levered himself onto one elbow. The factory was silent. The only thing he could hear was his own labored breathing and heaving of his chest.

"Oh, God..." he gasped, realizing what he had done. He scrambled to his feet and rushed over to the crumpled body on the ground. "Oh God...oh God..." he rambled, searching her body for the bullet wound.

He found it right over her heart.

His hand slipped over his mouth as he gave a choked sob. "Dear God...no." he sat back on his heals, letting the heavy sobs wrack his body. Tears fell freely from between his fingers as his palms pressed into his eyes. He watched as the scene played behind his eyes again and he couldn't help but fall back onto the floor. What had he done? This is what you wanted, you prick, he thought helplessly, realizing that he wasn't sure what he wanted. Answers? A release from the memories? He wanted the confusion to stop, but now he had only made it worse.

"I'm sorry..." he sobbed into his hands. "Please, God, I'm so sorry!"

And as he gave God his silent prayer, he felt a pair of soft fingers brush his cheek. At first he thought he had imagined it, but when he looked up through tear blurry eyes, he saw her face. At first he thought it was another hallucination, but he remembered that he wasn't drunk.

"Jack?" she asked, running her fingers over his cheek. "Jack, talk to me."

"Oh, God..." he sighed, squinting to make sure it was her. "Diana..."

"I have a few things I need to tell you, Jack. You think you're ready to listen?" she asked, taking him by the shoulders and helping him to his feet. He noticed the bullet wound over her chest, but saw that it was only ripped clothe now. She must have seen him looking at it because she ran her fingers over the tear and smiled.

"Come on, Jack, let's get you fixed up." she said, all hostility gone from her voice. Jack let a few moments of silence pass, then allowed her to lead him off into the darkness of the factory.
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