All But One: Judgement Day
She's alone. And even if Mike Franks were in the room with her, she'd still feel alone. They mix as well as oil and Burberry. The air inside the diner is still and stifling, warmer than the outside and without the breeze. But she's not nervous. As the hours ticked by, she found an almost peace, an acceptance of what was about to happen. Her mortality is staring her in the face and she's okay with it. She welcomes it, even. This isn't how she had imaged her death, but then, succumbing to pneumonia wasn't what she'd planned, either. Although she would take bullets over disease.
They all know she's dying. Everyone except Mike; he simply knows she's sick. But she suspects he knows more than he lets on. As she stands in the empty diner, her mind drifts back to the conversation they just had, about making things right. Her feelings were written across her face and her heart was on her sleeve. She didn't have to say anything. Mike knew. But she should have told him there was no going back. Relationships have been irreparably changed. Hearts were broken. Friendships ended. And yet, here she is, still thinking about him.
She wants to smack herself for it. Instead, she twists the charm bracelet around and around her wrist. She should be thinking about Alex. He doesn't know and he deserves to. She ditched him at the hotel and he's going to get the worst call of his life. Jenny pulls her eyes from the dusty landscape and looks down at the charms on the bracelet: a palm tree, a paw print, a bottle of wine, a heart. It's better for everyone this way. Gibbs stays free of her mess. Alex won't have to watch her wither away.
Jenny glances over her shoulder to the door Mike disappeared out of. He's out back. Some part of her is glad he's out there. No chance for him to cover her. Her death will be on her terms. No backup. No heroics. The sound of tires on gravel brings her attention back to the front of the diner. This is it. Now. She uncrosses her arms and draws the sidearm Mike had given her a short while ago.
But they don't come in shooting. Two thugs, one of them Viggo from the funeral. Two more come in from the back, though she doesn't look to see. She keeps her eyes on the front. Leon Vance brings up the rear.
"I'm surprised you didn't see this coming, Jenny," he says. Even his words are slimy.
She raises her eyebrows, "Didn't I, Leon? You didn't really think I transferred Gibbs to clean up, did you?" Of course he didn't. He's better than that. He knows she knew just as much as she knows he knew. A quick glance at the two guys flanking Vance and she adds, "This goes beyond simply wanting my job."
"Depends on how you define 'simply'," he says, "If you mean 'doing anything in my power and then some to make sure you're out of the way'? Then yes."
Those were the magic words and before the first guy can raise his weapon, Jen's fired off three shots. He never had a chance, but now her countdown has started. Every bullet fired is a second ticked away. This isn't what she planned even moments ago. She has no intention of letting him walk out of here alive. She's going to go down swinging. She will take him with her.
The two guys at the back of the diner start firing, the sounds of their guns mixing with Vance's, almost drowning her efforts out. He gets off three shots of his own, one striking her in the shoulder, another in the arm. She fires back, bullets hitting the second guy, dropping him into the dust.
Spinning on her heel, she fires again, again, again, taking out the two guys in the back.
That just leaves Vance.
She drops to a knee. The bullets fly. She never misses. Neither does he. He hits her with two in the chest, but as she slowly drops to the floor, she keeps squeezing the trigger. One after another after another, striking him. Jenny blacks out before she can see him drop lifeless to the dusty floor.
Two more shots in the back of the diner. Mike Franks and his own insurance policy. It just a few short steps to where Jenny dropped and he kneels in the dust and the blood. "Oh no, I ain't having yer death on my hands," he mutters, pressing his hand to the holes in her chest. Her phone had worked itself free when she fell and he picks it up, dialing a quick number and pulling some strings. Mike Franks can work magic most people can't.
"Gibbs'll never forgive me if you die while I was takin' a piss," more grumbled words as he wishes he had a third hand. He moves his hand, now sticky with Jen's blood, and presses two fingers to her throat. She's still alive. But just barely. He only needs a few minutes. "An' yer too pigheaded to give up that easily."
With the helicopter on the way from Edwards Air Force Base, Mike lets the phone fall into the blood starting to seep towards his knee. His hand goes back to the wounds in her chest. He needs to keep his fingers pressed to her throat; he has no other way to know if he's wasting his time. She may as well already be dead.
Infinite minutes drag on before the sounds of helicopter blades chopping the air start to filter in from somewhere outside.
Sitting in an empty room
Trying to forget the past
This was never meant to last
I wish it wasn't so
I know what it takes to move on
I know how it feels to lie
All I want to do
Is trade this life for something new
Holding on to what I haven't got
They all know she's dying. Everyone except Mike; he simply knows she's sick. But she suspects he knows more than he lets on. As she stands in the empty diner, her mind drifts back to the conversation they just had, about making things right. Her feelings were written across her face and her heart was on her sleeve. She didn't have to say anything. Mike knew. But she should have told him there was no going back. Relationships have been irreparably changed. Hearts were broken. Friendships ended. And yet, here she is, still thinking about him.
She wants to smack herself for it. Instead, she twists the charm bracelet around and around her wrist. She should be thinking about Alex. He doesn't know and he deserves to. She ditched him at the hotel and he's going to get the worst call of his life. Jenny pulls her eyes from the dusty landscape and looks down at the charms on the bracelet: a palm tree, a paw print, a bottle of wine, a heart. It's better for everyone this way. Gibbs stays free of her mess. Alex won't have to watch her wither away.
Jenny glances over her shoulder to the door Mike disappeared out of. He's out back. Some part of her is glad he's out there. No chance for him to cover her. Her death will be on her terms. No backup. No heroics. The sound of tires on gravel brings her attention back to the front of the diner. This is it. Now. She uncrosses her arms and draws the sidearm Mike had given her a short while ago.
But they don't come in shooting. Two thugs, one of them Viggo from the funeral. Two more come in from the back, though she doesn't look to see. She keeps her eyes on the front. Leon Vance brings up the rear.
"I'm surprised you didn't see this coming, Jenny," he says. Even his words are slimy.
She raises her eyebrows, "Didn't I, Leon? You didn't really think I transferred Gibbs to clean up, did you?" Of course he didn't. He's better than that. He knows she knew just as much as she knows he knew. A quick glance at the two guys flanking Vance and she adds, "This goes beyond simply wanting my job."
"Depends on how you define 'simply'," he says, "If you mean 'doing anything in my power and then some to make sure you're out of the way'? Then yes."
Those were the magic words and before the first guy can raise his weapon, Jen's fired off three shots. He never had a chance, but now her countdown has started. Every bullet fired is a second ticked away. This isn't what she planned even moments ago. She has no intention of letting him walk out of here alive. She's going to go down swinging. She will take him with her.
The two guys at the back of the diner start firing, the sounds of their guns mixing with Vance's, almost drowning her efforts out. He gets off three shots of his own, one striking her in the shoulder, another in the arm. She fires back, bullets hitting the second guy, dropping him into the dust.
Spinning on her heel, she fires again, again, again, taking out the two guys in the back.
That just leaves Vance.
She drops to a knee. The bullets fly. She never misses. Neither does he. He hits her with two in the chest, but as she slowly drops to the floor, she keeps squeezing the trigger. One after another after another, striking him. Jenny blacks out before she can see him drop lifeless to the dusty floor.
Two more shots in the back of the diner. Mike Franks and his own insurance policy. It just a few short steps to where Jenny dropped and he kneels in the dust and the blood. "Oh no, I ain't having yer death on my hands," he mutters, pressing his hand to the holes in her chest. Her phone had worked itself free when she fell and he picks it up, dialing a quick number and pulling some strings. Mike Franks can work magic most people can't.
"Gibbs'll never forgive me if you die while I was takin' a piss," more grumbled words as he wishes he had a third hand. He moves his hand, now sticky with Jen's blood, and presses two fingers to her throat. She's still alive. But just barely. He only needs a few minutes. "An' yer too pigheaded to give up that easily."
With the helicopter on the way from Edwards Air Force Base, Mike lets the phone fall into the blood starting to seep towards his knee. His hand goes back to the wounds in her chest. He needs to keep his fingers pressed to her throat; he has no other way to know if he's wasting his time. She may as well already be dead.
Infinite minutes drag on before the sounds of helicopter blades chopping the air start to filter in from somewhere outside.
Sitting in an empty room
Trying to forget the past
This was never meant to last
I wish it wasn't so
I know what it takes to move on
I know how it feels to lie
All I want to do
Is trade this life for something new
Holding on to what I haven't got