Fatal Attraction (Part 3c [Final])
Title: Fatal Attraction
Author: VampireMadonna
Pairing: YunJae
Rating: NC-17
Length: Two-shot
Summary: Jaejoong is an assassin: Yunho, his target. But what happens when the hunter falls for his charming prey?
N/B: Inspired by, but not based on, the character of YeoWoon from Warrior Baek Dong Soo.
They were halfway down the long corridor when a dark, silent figure stepped out of the shadows. Jaejoong heard Yunho gasp behind him but none of his muscles so much as twitched.
“YeoWoon.”
The lone figure came closer, though he had already seen his face. There was no need for covering when they were dealing with one of their own.
“Hello, baby brother,” a soft, musical voice greeted.
Jaejoong dropped his eyes and bowed his head.
Yeowoon’s eyes flicked over him then shifted to the wide-eyed young man behind him.
“Quite a mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” he drawled, a wry smile twisting his lips.
“I’m sorry.”
Jaejoong endured the curious gaze sweeping over him yet again. YeoWoon would see what he’d seen in the mirror, the change.
“Very well,” he finally said. “I hope you know what you’re doing. I hope he was worth it.”
Spinning on his heel, YeoWoon proceeded towards the light and Jaejoong followed, Yunho trailing behind him.
Jaejoong slipped the knife out of his pocket, flicked it open to its full length and tucked the blade into the sleeve of his jacket, the hilt anchored to the palm of his hand by his thumb. He would have killed for a sword but his trusty sticker would have to do.
He watched YeoWoon step into the room and get swallowed up by the light. He paused on the threshold to survey what lay before him.
They were all there. Not the entire clan but a fair amount. They stood in an ominous, black ring around the room, legs spread in “rest” position, their unsheathed swords fastened to their sides.
Oh yes, he would’ve killed for his sword. Instead, he’d probably have to kill one of them for theirs.
“Stay close,” he whispered over his shoulder to Yunho before walking into the room.
He kept his head held high, shoulders straight, eyes forward. He couldn’t show any signs of weakness or nerves. He was about to battle for his life. It wouldn’t be suicide if he fought back, even if the outcome was the same in the end. What had once been about redeeming the clan’s honor had turned into dying with his own pride intact. He wouldn’t die a coward and giving up was as dishonorable as not doing what had been asked of him. He couldn’t turn back the hands of time and kill Yunho - and if he had it to do over again he was certain he’d have done the same - but he could still die an honorable death under his own terms.
YeoWoon had stopped in the center of the room and he stopped beside him. They were all waiting, he knew. Someone was still missing.
Suddenly, he felt a shift in the air. A strong, overwhelming aura had joined them. Bracing, he turned, immediately dropping to one knee as all his brothers did, head bent low.
Master had arrived.
He walked slowly, surely. Jaejoong could feel the heat and intensity of his gaze on the back of his neck.
“Rise,” he commanded sharply, stopping in front of Jaejoong.
Before Jaejoong could fully get to his feet, the powerful force of a solid fist sent him stumbling sideways.
He heard Yunho start to rush forward but held his hand up to hold him back.
The right side of his face throbbed painfully and he was sure bruises were already blooming in the pale skin. He could taste blood in his mouth where his teeth had cut into the inner softness of his cheek. But he said nothing, did nothing. He simply straightened and walked back to where he’d been standing in front of Yunho, not even raising a hand to his flaming cheek.
His Master’s eyes narrowed but he could see a glint of respect in them.
“It’s good to see that you still have some pride left. Not that that’s going to do you any good.”
Jaejoong lowered his eyes again.
Tense silence hung in the air and it made his nerves raw. He didn’t know which direction the first strike would come from. YeoWoon was still behind them and he was the most dangerous of all. If he moved first, it would all be over. He didn’t think his Master would pull out his best sword from the outset, however. It would be one of the others. He would have to strike quick, probably straight to the jugular, and grab the sword before it fell to the ground. Every millisecond counted.
“Before we begin, do you have anything to say for yourself?” he finally asked, that deep, powerful voice strangely vague.
It threw Jaejoong off balance a little but he managed to shake his head. The hair on the back of his neck rose as a little voice told him something was wrong.
“Very well.”
“Master, let me…” one of the black-clad figures behind the big man spoke, stepping out of formation.
“YeoWoon.”
Later, Yunho would swear that he never saw him move. One moment YeoWoon was standing silently behind him, the next he was in front of the assassin who had stepped forward, his sword deeply embedded in the man’s chest. He would never forget the shock on the man’s face, the way his eyes bulged, before he fell - or was pushed rather - to the ground, fat drops of blood dripping off the tip of the sword and onto his dying body.
All hell broke loose then.
A frozen Jae watched as one by one, his brothers were cut down before him. YeoWoon moved with a speed and efficiency that no one in the clan had mastered in years, not even Jaejoong, who was touted as the second best among the assassins, after YeoWoon of course. He raised tortured eyes to the powerful man in front of him, the sounds of the dying assaulting his emotions with each and every clash of swords and resulting cry when they were cut down.
“Father,” he breathed.
Dark eyes, so like his own, stared back at him. He would say his father’s expression was emotionless, impassive, but for his eyes. The horror and regret of what he’d ordered reflected there.
“They are all my sons,” he said, his voice ravaged by emotion, “but you are my only true son, the only flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. Did you really think I would let them kill you?”
Jaejoong shook his head in wonder, confused. It had never occurred to him that his father might step out of his role as Master for once and be a father to the son he’d never treated as anything more than another member of his clan.
Suddenly, a loud cry erupted from behind his father but before he had a chance to move, one of the men that YeoWoon had struck down, rose up and lunged at the Master who had betrayed him. Before Jaejoong could push him out of the way, the sword sank into his father’s stomach.
“Father!” he cried, catching him before he could pitch forward from the impact.
YeoWoon had spun around at the cry but was too late to prevent his Master from being hurt. Growling furiously, he slashed his sword down, cleanly slicing off the offending hand that had dared to injure the man who’d raised him, the only father he’d ever known after losing his parents as a child. Gazing furiously into the fear-filled eyes that looked up at him, he swiped his sword sharply to the right, watching shock glaze over before those very eyes rolled back into their sockets as the decapitated head slid off its neck base.
“Father,” Jaejoong whispered, staring into a face that had gone pale.
He started to lead his father over to the wall but his father resisted, putting a restraining hand on his son’s arm. Wincing, he pulled away from Jaejoong, who released him and allowed him to stand under his own steam.
“I’m fine,” he grunted, though Jaejoong could see the obvious pain in his eyes.
He wanted to argue but wouldn’t dare. His father would not like him fussing over him. He would see it as a sign of weakness.
“What have you done?” Jaejoong asked instead. He glanced behind his father at YeoWoon, watched as he slayed the very last man. “You’ve killed them all.”
“I did what had to be done,” his father said firmly. “You wouldn’t know about that.”
Jaejoong felt the sting in his words, accepted it as his due.
“I couldn’t let them kill my only child, my heir. This way, there will be no witnesses. We will tell the others that you chose your clan in the end and did your duty but your brothers lost their lives in the process. You will spend the rest of your life serving the clan for the grievous mistakes you have made. This clan belongs to our family, the bloodline must be preserved. You, your cousin, Woon-ah, and myself are all that’s left.”
So it was about the clan after all, Jaejoong thought. He felt like a fool, one with a wounded heart. For a second he’d thought that, maybe, his father had done what he did because he loved him. Like Yunho’s father would have done anything for him.
His father’s eyes shifted to Yunho, hardening as they fell upon the boy who’d been silent as death consumed those around him. Ignoring the pain, he gripped the gold hilt of his sword and pulled it out of its sheath, holding it out to the side.
“There’s still one small matter to attend to.”
Urgent fear clogged Jaejoong’s throat. He threw himself in front of Yunho, backing him away from his father.
“Don’t,” he whispered, eyes pleading.
“It must be done,” his father replied calmly.
“Please,” Jaejoong begged. Slowly, imperceptibly, he slipped the thin blade out of his sleeve. He’d never once thought that he might have to use it on his own father.
“Step aside, Jaejoong,” his father ordered in a tone that brook no refusal.
Jaejoong shook his head.
“Jaejoong…” YeoWoon began.
Before he could finish, father and son fell into identical attack stances and charged each other.
Jaejoong ducked beneath his father’s blade as it swished over his head, missing the tip of his nose by mere inches. When the flat side of the blade struck across his back, he dug into the ground and pivoted, arcing his knife upward so that its blade connected with the sword. His determined gaze clashed with his father’s incensed one as they waged a battle of wills, his one-handed upward thrust against his father’s two-handed downward swing.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw YeoWoon, that damnable shadow, slinking towards Yunho.
Grunting, he gathered his strength and pushed hard against his father, forcing the older man to stumble backward. His father was more experienced but he had youth on his side and he would, if need be, use his father’s injury against him.
Taking wide steps back and to the side, he moved towards Yunho, his eyes never leaving his fathers while keeping YeoWoon, now immobile, in his peripheral vision.
“Stay back, Yunho,” he ordered, seconds before he and his father went at each other again.
For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the large room were that of their harsh breathing, clashing blades and grunts when one or the other landed a hit.
“Stop this, Jaejoong,” his father said during a short break, his breathing labored.
Jaejoong could see the way his robe was matted to his chest and knew that he was bleeding profusely.
“Just let us go, father. Turn around and walk away.”
“I can’t do that.”
“I don’t want to have to kill you,” Jaejoong pleaded.
His father smiled, a small confident smile. “You won’t. You can’t.”
It was true. Jaejoong could no more kill his father than he could Yunho and it had already been proven time and again how impossible the latter was for him.
They were at an impasse.
“Father, please go. You need medical attention.”
“And I shall have it. But first…”
Though he belatedly heard it coming, he wasn’t able to dodge the three-pronged shuriken that planted itself in his right arm, his knife arm, just above the elbow.
Staggering back, Jaejoong looked up, surprised to find himself gazing into the eyes of the man that had made him.
“I’m sorry,” his father whispered regretfully before plunging his sword into his son’s side.
Shock froze the air in his lungs, his eyes going wide as they remained locked with his father’s. He fell to one knee, gripping his side, but he was still so stunned that even though he saw the hilt of the sword as it swung towards his head, he did nothing to stop it.
Numbness spread through him and he faintly heard Yunho’s voice calling his name before the blackness swallowed him whole.
Epilogue
Author: VampireMadonna
Pairing: YunJae
Rating: NC-17
Length: Two-shot
Summary: Jaejoong is an assassin: Yunho, his target. But what happens when the hunter falls for his charming prey?
N/B: Inspired by, but not based on, the character of YeoWoon from Warrior Baek Dong Soo.
They were halfway down the long corridor when a dark, silent figure stepped out of the shadows. Jaejoong heard Yunho gasp behind him but none of his muscles so much as twitched.
“YeoWoon.”
The lone figure came closer, though he had already seen his face. There was no need for covering when they were dealing with one of their own.
“Hello, baby brother,” a soft, musical voice greeted.
Jaejoong dropped his eyes and bowed his head.
Yeowoon’s eyes flicked over him then shifted to the wide-eyed young man behind him.
“Quite a mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” he drawled, a wry smile twisting his lips.
“I’m sorry.”
Jaejoong endured the curious gaze sweeping over him yet again. YeoWoon would see what he’d seen in the mirror, the change.
“Very well,” he finally said. “I hope you know what you’re doing. I hope he was worth it.”
Spinning on his heel, YeoWoon proceeded towards the light and Jaejoong followed, Yunho trailing behind him.
Jaejoong slipped the knife out of his pocket, flicked it open to its full length and tucked the blade into the sleeve of his jacket, the hilt anchored to the palm of his hand by his thumb. He would have killed for a sword but his trusty sticker would have to do.
He watched YeoWoon step into the room and get swallowed up by the light. He paused on the threshold to survey what lay before him.
They were all there. Not the entire clan but a fair amount. They stood in an ominous, black ring around the room, legs spread in “rest” position, their unsheathed swords fastened to their sides.
Oh yes, he would’ve killed for his sword. Instead, he’d probably have to kill one of them for theirs.
“Stay close,” he whispered over his shoulder to Yunho before walking into the room.
He kept his head held high, shoulders straight, eyes forward. He couldn’t show any signs of weakness or nerves. He was about to battle for his life. It wouldn’t be suicide if he fought back, even if the outcome was the same in the end. What had once been about redeeming the clan’s honor had turned into dying with his own pride intact. He wouldn’t die a coward and giving up was as dishonorable as not doing what had been asked of him. He couldn’t turn back the hands of time and kill Yunho - and if he had it to do over again he was certain he’d have done the same - but he could still die an honorable death under his own terms.
YeoWoon had stopped in the center of the room and he stopped beside him. They were all waiting, he knew. Someone was still missing.
Suddenly, he felt a shift in the air. A strong, overwhelming aura had joined them. Bracing, he turned, immediately dropping to one knee as all his brothers did, head bent low.
Master had arrived.
He walked slowly, surely. Jaejoong could feel the heat and intensity of his gaze on the back of his neck.
“Rise,” he commanded sharply, stopping in front of Jaejoong.
Before Jaejoong could fully get to his feet, the powerful force of a solid fist sent him stumbling sideways.
He heard Yunho start to rush forward but held his hand up to hold him back.
The right side of his face throbbed painfully and he was sure bruises were already blooming in the pale skin. He could taste blood in his mouth where his teeth had cut into the inner softness of his cheek. But he said nothing, did nothing. He simply straightened and walked back to where he’d been standing in front of Yunho, not even raising a hand to his flaming cheek.
His Master’s eyes narrowed but he could see a glint of respect in them.
“It’s good to see that you still have some pride left. Not that that’s going to do you any good.”
Jaejoong lowered his eyes again.
Tense silence hung in the air and it made his nerves raw. He didn’t know which direction the first strike would come from. YeoWoon was still behind them and he was the most dangerous of all. If he moved first, it would all be over. He didn’t think his Master would pull out his best sword from the outset, however. It would be one of the others. He would have to strike quick, probably straight to the jugular, and grab the sword before it fell to the ground. Every millisecond counted.
“Before we begin, do you have anything to say for yourself?” he finally asked, that deep, powerful voice strangely vague.
It threw Jaejoong off balance a little but he managed to shake his head. The hair on the back of his neck rose as a little voice told him something was wrong.
“Very well.”
“Master, let me…” one of the black-clad figures behind the big man spoke, stepping out of formation.
“YeoWoon.”
Later, Yunho would swear that he never saw him move. One moment YeoWoon was standing silently behind him, the next he was in front of the assassin who had stepped forward, his sword deeply embedded in the man’s chest. He would never forget the shock on the man’s face, the way his eyes bulged, before he fell - or was pushed rather - to the ground, fat drops of blood dripping off the tip of the sword and onto his dying body.
All hell broke loose then.
A frozen Jae watched as one by one, his brothers were cut down before him. YeoWoon moved with a speed and efficiency that no one in the clan had mastered in years, not even Jaejoong, who was touted as the second best among the assassins, after YeoWoon of course. He raised tortured eyes to the powerful man in front of him, the sounds of the dying assaulting his emotions with each and every clash of swords and resulting cry when they were cut down.
“Father,” he breathed.
Dark eyes, so like his own, stared back at him. He would say his father’s expression was emotionless, impassive, but for his eyes. The horror and regret of what he’d ordered reflected there.
“They are all my sons,” he said, his voice ravaged by emotion, “but you are my only true son, the only flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. Did you really think I would let them kill you?”
Jaejoong shook his head in wonder, confused. It had never occurred to him that his father might step out of his role as Master for once and be a father to the son he’d never treated as anything more than another member of his clan.
Suddenly, a loud cry erupted from behind his father but before he had a chance to move, one of the men that YeoWoon had struck down, rose up and lunged at the Master who had betrayed him. Before Jaejoong could push him out of the way, the sword sank into his father’s stomach.
“Father!” he cried, catching him before he could pitch forward from the impact.
YeoWoon had spun around at the cry but was too late to prevent his Master from being hurt. Growling furiously, he slashed his sword down, cleanly slicing off the offending hand that had dared to injure the man who’d raised him, the only father he’d ever known after losing his parents as a child. Gazing furiously into the fear-filled eyes that looked up at him, he swiped his sword sharply to the right, watching shock glaze over before those very eyes rolled back into their sockets as the decapitated head slid off its neck base.
“Father,” Jaejoong whispered, staring into a face that had gone pale.
He started to lead his father over to the wall but his father resisted, putting a restraining hand on his son’s arm. Wincing, he pulled away from Jaejoong, who released him and allowed him to stand under his own steam.
“I’m fine,” he grunted, though Jaejoong could see the obvious pain in his eyes.
He wanted to argue but wouldn’t dare. His father would not like him fussing over him. He would see it as a sign of weakness.
“What have you done?” Jaejoong asked instead. He glanced behind his father at YeoWoon, watched as he slayed the very last man. “You’ve killed them all.”
“I did what had to be done,” his father said firmly. “You wouldn’t know about that.”
Jaejoong felt the sting in his words, accepted it as his due.
“I couldn’t let them kill my only child, my heir. This way, there will be no witnesses. We will tell the others that you chose your clan in the end and did your duty but your brothers lost their lives in the process. You will spend the rest of your life serving the clan for the grievous mistakes you have made. This clan belongs to our family, the bloodline must be preserved. You, your cousin, Woon-ah, and myself are all that’s left.”
So it was about the clan after all, Jaejoong thought. He felt like a fool, one with a wounded heart. For a second he’d thought that, maybe, his father had done what he did because he loved him. Like Yunho’s father would have done anything for him.
His father’s eyes shifted to Yunho, hardening as they fell upon the boy who’d been silent as death consumed those around him. Ignoring the pain, he gripped the gold hilt of his sword and pulled it out of its sheath, holding it out to the side.
“There’s still one small matter to attend to.”
Urgent fear clogged Jaejoong’s throat. He threw himself in front of Yunho, backing him away from his father.
“Don’t,” he whispered, eyes pleading.
“It must be done,” his father replied calmly.
“Please,” Jaejoong begged. Slowly, imperceptibly, he slipped the thin blade out of his sleeve. He’d never once thought that he might have to use it on his own father.
“Step aside, Jaejoong,” his father ordered in a tone that brook no refusal.
Jaejoong shook his head.
“Jaejoong…” YeoWoon began.
Before he could finish, father and son fell into identical attack stances and charged each other.
Jaejoong ducked beneath his father’s blade as it swished over his head, missing the tip of his nose by mere inches. When the flat side of the blade struck across his back, he dug into the ground and pivoted, arcing his knife upward so that its blade connected with the sword. His determined gaze clashed with his father’s incensed one as they waged a battle of wills, his one-handed upward thrust against his father’s two-handed downward swing.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw YeoWoon, that damnable shadow, slinking towards Yunho.
Grunting, he gathered his strength and pushed hard against his father, forcing the older man to stumble backward. His father was more experienced but he had youth on his side and he would, if need be, use his father’s injury against him.
Taking wide steps back and to the side, he moved towards Yunho, his eyes never leaving his fathers while keeping YeoWoon, now immobile, in his peripheral vision.
“Stay back, Yunho,” he ordered, seconds before he and his father went at each other again.
For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the large room were that of their harsh breathing, clashing blades and grunts when one or the other landed a hit.
“Stop this, Jaejoong,” his father said during a short break, his breathing labored.
Jaejoong could see the way his robe was matted to his chest and knew that he was bleeding profusely.
“Just let us go, father. Turn around and walk away.”
“I can’t do that.”
“I don’t want to have to kill you,” Jaejoong pleaded.
His father smiled, a small confident smile. “You won’t. You can’t.”
It was true. Jaejoong could no more kill his father than he could Yunho and it had already been proven time and again how impossible the latter was for him.
They were at an impasse.
“Father, please go. You need medical attention.”
“And I shall have it. But first…”
Though he belatedly heard it coming, he wasn’t able to dodge the three-pronged shuriken that planted itself in his right arm, his knife arm, just above the elbow.
Staggering back, Jaejoong looked up, surprised to find himself gazing into the eyes of the man that had made him.
“I’m sorry,” his father whispered regretfully before plunging his sword into his son’s side.
Shock froze the air in his lungs, his eyes going wide as they remained locked with his father’s. He fell to one knee, gripping his side, but he was still so stunned that even though he saw the hilt of the sword as it swung towards his head, he did nothing to stop it.
Numbness spread through him and he faintly heard Yunho’s voice calling his name before the blackness swallowed him whole.
Epilogue