Arleen
slumped in the seat of her rental car as she watched her
little brother snap a clip into his gun.
"
I came to get you out of the Legacy, not to bring you
back to them practically gift-wrapped."
Declan
looked over at her, ignoring her sarcastic comment. His
face pale and taunt and his eyes were dull with worry.
It was the same worry he'd worn all the way from New Orleans.
"Did
you call your doctor friend?"
Arleen
nodded, not wanting to answer yes for what seemed to be
the hundredth time. The answer had been burned into her
brain…
"He's
meeting us as his office. If he needs to do surgery, he
can do it there." Arleen paused, then took a deep breath,
"I don't know why I did what I did, Declan…you're walking
into the lion's den here. I've opened the door to freedom,
why not just walk out and leave this all behind you?"
Declan
didn't look up from his gun, but froze. Arleen could feel
tension fill the car. After a long silence, Declan spoke,
softly, quietly, still staring into his lap.
"If
Katrina dies, I die. What they are doing in there...they’re
killing her, and I can't...I just can't stand by. I can't
walk away. After all I've done to her…there was a time
when we were free, when none of this Legacy crap was between
us…then there was Berlin, and….
He
was rambling. Arleen was about to say something when Declan's
face lifted and looked at her and she almost flinched
from the pain she saw lodged there.
"
I love her. Can't you understand that?"
No,
Arleen said silently. I can't, little brother, and maybe
there’s part of me that wants you to walk away, wants
you to leave her because then you won't have something
I don't.
"Okay."
Arleen nodded. "Okay, let's go get her, Dec. Let's save
your Kat and get the hell out of here."
Declan
leaned across the car and kissed Arleen on the cheek.
"Thanks
sis."
:"Not
a problem Decadoo."
His
childhood nickname brought a slight smile to Declan’s
face. He leaned back, tucking his gun in his waistband,
then slipped out of the car. Arleen watched as the night
swallowed him up, leaving nothing of her little brother
as he slipped into the apartment building that they were
parked in front of.
The
car was starting to get cold. Arleen wrapped her coat
tighter and reached down, feeling the dead metal of the
gun she always had tucked in a holster on her ankle. Declan
had no idea how important it was to her to keep him safe.
He could barely remember that as their mother withdrew
more and more into her world of grief, it had been Arleen
who had fed him, brushed his hair…it had been Arleen who
had cared.
Arleen
pulled her gun out of the holster and checked the clip…plenty
of bullets. She had done what she needed to take care
of Declan then, and she would do the same now.
"You
have ten minutes to get her, little brother," Arleen said
softly, her voice getting lost in a siren as an ambulance
rushed by. "Then I’m coming in to get you the hell out
of there."
Part
VII Scene II
The
hallway lights glowed with the soft-lit look of luxury
as Declan stepped off the elevator. It was the kind of
luxury that you paid a price for…soft carpets, muted walls
and discreet neighbors. It reeked of Legacy money, but
it didn’t seem like Kat. It wasn’t her type of place.
Kat had never needed things, just people.
"6200"
Declan said to himself, his voice blending into the soft
sound of his breathing. Philip had told him that he would
find Katrina in flat 6200, and that someone was trying
to destroy her mind. His own hands were tied; he needed
Declan to help Katrina…
Declan
stopped in front of the door with 6200 on it. The numbers
were burnished gold, glowing softly in the dim light.
Carefully, Declan reached out and tested the doorknob.
It gave way and Declan’s sense of danger picked up. Katrina
never let her guard down, and would never leave a door
unlocked. Declan pulled his gun from his waistband and
pointed it in front of him, at the same time he nudged
the door open with his foot. A hallway stretched out in
front of him and through the quiet he heard a small whimper.
It was Katrina and she was in pain. Declan dropped his
gun to his side and called out her name.
"Kat!"
Tell
me where you are...tell me so I can help you.
Part
VII Scene III
"Kat?
The
voice range in the empty apartment. Katrina lifted her
head off the bed; her face pale, deep circles under her
eyes. Everything stopped, frozen into place as Katrina
stared at the person standing in the doorway. Her body
started to shake a little as tears flowed down her cheeks.
"Declan."
She whispered, then lay her head back down on the bed.
The
sound of her voice seemed to break the spell that had
fallen over the room. Declan rushed to the side of the
bed, taking her face in his hands.
"My
God, Kat. I hope I’m not too late."
His
voice seemed so far away. Katrina traced the familiar
lines of his face, his mouth drawn tight, a frown between
his eyes as he scanned her face, his eyes, dark green
with fear. She'd seen this fear in him before, a long
time ago in that Berlin club as he turned her to him,
afraid of what it would mean for the both of them that
she'd stumbled into his mission.
"Help
me Dec. Please. I don’t know what’s happening to me."
For
the first time since Berlin, Katrina wanted to give up.
She had emerged from Berlin like a phoenix, born from
fire. She would kill, hunt the enemy, withstand torture
and pay back her torturers two-fold, and control every
moment of her destiny. At least that’s what she told herself.
Then the headaches had started, only hours at first, but
lately she felt like nails being driven into her skull
for days on end. She had been in bed for over a week now,
shaking from fever, he sheets damp from sweat, blacking
out for days at a time. She had found an enemy that she
could not survive and it was her own body and her own
pain.
She'd
begged Philip to help her, but he'd just smiled in a way
that she couldn’t tell if it was love, or pity, and brought
her a cup of tea. She'd asked if she was going to die.
He'd shook his head; no, she would not die. It wasn't
the answer she wanted to hear.
And
in her pain induced dreams, when they were not still,
black holes that threatened to swallow both her body and
soul, she dreamed of Declan, the way he touched her, the
way he smelled. On her darkest nights, she swore if she
ever found him, she would hurt him like he hurt her. Or
never let him go, because the one thing that Katrina knew
was that she still loved him and always would.
Now
he was holding her face in his hands, his touch felt like
a dream. Maybe it was a dream, another trick of her fevered
mind. Katrina closed her eyes, no longer able to look
into his, unable to take the pain she saw there that she
knew was mirrored in hers. The pain that was lodged there
from one fateful night.
Then
she was back in Berlin three years ago, in the dingy room
with the bare bulb and the dirty walls, Declan's lips
on her throat, trailing down to her collarbone as a moan
escaped her lips. Her body was pressed against the wall.
"It's
over now." she mumbled, her breathing hard. "Tell me it's
over."
"It's
over, my love." Declan said as he fingers went under tight
black T-shirt she was wearing, sliding it up her rib cage.
"I'm getting out and I'm taking you with me."
Katrina
shuddered as his hands went to the back of her bra and
carefully undid the tiny hooks that held it in place.
Katrina's hands went to his shirt, unbuttoning it until
she could reach the warm skin of his chest, running her
hand inside the cotton. She believed him with all her
heart and soul only to wake up alone the next morning.
It was then that she discovered the taste of metal that
would never leave her, that would wake in her mouth at
night, discovered that fear tasted like gunpowder and
that her only safety was in anger…
"Stay
with me Kat. Please stay with me." Declan’s voice jerked
Katrina back into the present. They were no longer in
Berlin, but back in the flat that she and Philip shared.
"I’m
going to get you some help." Declan pulled the blanket
from where Katrina had kicked it earlier and tucked it
carefully around her. "It's over, my love. I'm here and
I'm not going to let them take you away from me again.
Katrina winced at Declan's words and turned her head into
her pillow. She wanted to beg him not to say them, plead
with him not to make promises he could not keep, but couldn't
find the strength to speak. There was no comfort or hope
in his words, only sadness. She closed her eyes, shutting
out the image of him leaving again.
Part
VII Scene IV
"How
is the subject holding up?"
The
man in the white coat flinched a little, then looked up
from the monitor he had been watching for the last hour.
Jacques smiled. His reputation preceded him.
"Heart
rate up, her breathing's fast. She's in a lot of pain
right now."
Jacques
smiled at the slight shake in the man's voice. He was
just a technician they'd called in since Nightingale had
to head to Bulgaria to tend to their next subject, and
Jacques was fascinated by the fear he was evoking in the
slight man.
"A
lot of pain?" Jacques said quietly, almost to himself,
but loud enough for the man to hear. Pain would break
the subject, knit her soul to the Black Council. "Good.
Pain is good."
It
was hard not to chuckle as the man turned back to the
monitor, his shoulders hunched over in fear.
"Is
she ready, then?"
The
man nodded, still staring at the screen. Sorry, pet, Jacques
thought. I'm not going away that easily.
"Let's
switch her..."
Part
VII Scene V
Declan
had only been gone five minutes when the dizziness started
again. Katrina screamed as the pain shot through her body,
her hands clenching her pillow until they were white.
She whimpered as the next wave of pain swept over her
and the headache returned with the force of a gale wind.
Help
me, please, help me, please, help me, please...
Using
all her strength, Katrina pushed herself up on her elbows
and forced her body to roll over until she tumbled off
the bed. She fell on her side and her head hit the hardwood
floor, sending shocks reverberating through her jaw and
down her spine. Her hand went out and clawed at the smooth
floor, her fingernails making a slight scraping sound.
Help
me.
She
couldn't move, her body wasn't responding, everything
seemed far away, and as the blackness crept over her,
all Katrina could think of was how the wood floor felt
cold on her cheek and the way Declan smelled.
Part
VII Scene VI
"What
are you doing?"
Declan
had pushed the door to the bedroom open with hope, something
he hadn't had the company of for years. Katrina was in
worse shape then he expected and they need to get her
to the doctor right away, but it would end soon. Then
they could start rebuilding their lives and finally start
living them. Now he stood in the doorway of Kat's bedroom,
staring at her as she pulled on a pair of black stretch
pants.
"Katrina?"
She
looked at him blankly and turned to the dresser and pulled
open the bottom drawer. She pulled out a small black case
and threw it on the bed.
"Kat?
What the hell is going on."
When
Declan had left her, she was barely coherent, slipping
in and out of consciousness. It had been all he could
do to keep her attention on him and not let her slip away.
Now she was behaving as if nothing had happened.
Katrina
flipped open the case and pulled out a Glock, setting
it on the covers. She then pulled out a headset and slipped
it on.
"I'm
not alone," she said into the mouthpiece, staring directly
at Declan. Something wasn't right. He moved his hand towards
the gun that was tucked in his waistband, but Katrina,
reaching over and grabbing the Glock, pointed it steadily
at him.
"Yes,
sir, I understand." she said into the mouthpiece, then
leveled her gaze at Declan. As he stared at her, Declan
realized that it was no longer Katrina, but someone else
behind her eyes. The Council had gone further with their
plan then he'd anticipated. The eyes that stared at him
now were cold and deadly, and they sized each other up
like agents in the field, deadly lovers…Declan had to
think fast…had to find a way to get Katrina back…
"Fight
her Kat." Declan said softly, quietly. "Fight her for
us."
"Don't
call me that." Katrina said, her voice deadly. "My name
is Paris."
"
You are Katrina Marie Bradley."
Something
flicked through Katrina's eyes; some sort of understanding,
but her mouth twisted and tightened, then the understanding
was gone.
"Shut
up. Just shut up." The gun in Katrina's hand started to
shake. "Don't talk to her. She's not there anymore."
"You
are Katrina Marie Bradley…" Declan said again, slowly
and deliberately
The
gun was still shaking and Declan could see a tear forming
in the corner of Katrina's eye.
"Shut
up."
"Fight
her Kat …."
"I
said shut up."
"I
can feel you." Declan put his hand over his heart. "In
here. I know you're still there."
"No."
"I
love you…please…."
"NO!"
Katrina's
voice rang out as the crack of the gun filled the room
and Declan smelled the acid smell of gunpowder before
he felt the fire that ripped through him as he body jolted
sharply. He stared at Katrina who was standing erect in
the middle of the room, the gun steady in her hand. Declan's
hand went to his stomach and came back covered with blood.
He put out his hand as he fell towards the ground, but
could not keep his body up. His head bounced against the
hard floor as he watched Katrina's boots walk towards
him. She leaned down, and the eyes that were Katrina's,
but were not, stared into his, as she hissed, her voice
soft and deadly:
"The
name is Paris. Don't ever call me Kat."