justdidntseeit | [[ milliways ]]

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[[ milliways ]]

[ "i can't see you get hurt again because your heart's bigger than your brain." ]

"Goin' s'where?"

Her stomach twists as she smooths Bill's rumpled hair from his forehead in the gray pre-dawn light.

"Just for a run. Go back to sleep."

He gives her a sleepy half-nod.

"Mmmkay. Careful, s'bunnies."

She nearly chokes on guilt as her lips brush his cheek.

"I will. Back in a little while."

She slips out of the suite and heads down the hall to Bill's empty room.

- - - - -

She finds the gun on the top shelf in his closet.

Jaw tight, she lifts the weapon with steady hands and checks the magazine, then tucks the gun into the waistband of her black running pants at the small of her back.

With its cold weight at the base of her spine, she's hyper-aware of every step, every flex of each muscle and every breath she takes as she locks Bill's door and heads downstairs.

She doesn't know if she'll find Ramon, but she has to try.

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"I -- "

Her stomach twists at the thought of food; she shakes her head.

"No, thank you."

She licks her lips.

Just tell him.

"Actually, I have something that belongs to you."

She slides the case over.

Ramon stares at the case blankly for a moment. He can actually feel his good mood seeping out of his system.

'What's that?' he asks, though he already suspects.

Her heart rate doubles; she's back in the mosque in L.A., looking for Syed Ali in the men's prayer room.

"It's your gun."

He reaches a hand forward and unlatches the case.

It is, indeed, his gun.

'What are you doing with it?'

"Returning it."

Almost apologetically, "I heard about what happened in the stables with Katherine and Bill."

'I see that.'

It could be a response to either comment, really. He's quiet for a moment.

'Who told you about it?'

"Katherine," she says without hesitation, though the lie tastes like cotton on her tongue.

She glances at the case --

a believable lie incorporates truth

-- then lifts her eyes to meet Ramon's.

"I've met Bill a couple of times here, so I offered to hand it back to help keep the peace."

Ramon holds her eyes, obviously suspicious.

'Why couldn't he just come and give it to me himself.'

He had wanted him to. Wanted to knock his teeth down his throat.

"Because I made the offer."

A tight smile.

"And it seemed like an easy solution."

'An easy solution would have been for him to just give it back when I asked. Or not to have taken it in the first place.'

He lights a cigarette, never looking away.

'So you're a friend of Kate's?'

Tension triples at the base of her neck under his unflinching eyes, but she forces her shoulders to relax fraction by fraction.

"I am," she says with a nod. "We met here last year, before -- "

Before she became whatever she is now.

"A lot's happened since then."

'I don't give a fuck what's happened to her,' he replies, bluntly.

And it's true, he really doesn't.

'She'll get what's coming to her.'

He looks away suddenly and perhaps his statement is given more emphasis by the way he picks up the gun, checks the magazine and clicks it all back into place. Then he puts it down on the bar, but leaves the safety off.

'You've only met Bill a couple of times?'

She doesn't let herself look down at the gun. She knows if she does, she won't be able to tear her eyes from it.

"Yeah."

She smiles a little, feeling half-sick and transparent.

"He seems like a nice guy -- he just got caught between a rock and a hard place out there."

Silence.

...and then a brief, disbelieving, chuckle.

'Do you think I'm stupid, Kate?'

Her heart nearly stops.

"No."

'Well, that's good.'

He smokes quietly for a moment, then starts running a finger up the barrel of the gun.

'We've only talked a couple of times but you know what kind of man I am. You made it obvious last time we spoke that you don't think a lot of me, or what I do. And you know some of the things I've done.

So am I honestly supposed to believe you're so eager for my company that you'd volunteer to bring this back to me, in place of a grown man who can look after himself?'

He looks at her steadily.

'Why would you do that, Kate? Do you think I'm less likely to hurt you, than him?'

Oh god.

How could she have been so stupid, thinking she could walk this tightrope?

Her eyes fall to the gun; she swallows thickly.

"I don't think you have a reason to hurt me."

'Do you think I need a reason?'

It's not often he openly acknowledges his own tendency for...well, psychotic behaviour - because most of the time he doesn't bother with self-analysis. But he does know what he's like and sometimes it's a useful tool to make a point.

He lets the question hang there for a beat or two, making that point.

'What is he to you?'

"Nothing -- "

(everything)

"He's just a friend. I -- I thought I could help."

'Help?'

His eyebrows go up and there's comes a short bark of a laugh.

'How is this helping? Now I have to go find him to kick his ass. Does he really need to hide behind a woman?'

And he's suspicious, oh yes. No one who knows what he's like willingly involves themselves in situations like this. Especially not for someone who is 'nothing' to them.

Her heart hits her ribs.

"No."

She shakes her head, clawing for purchase in this quicksand.

"He tried to talk me out of it, but I wouldn't let him. Now that you've got your gun back, there's no reason for any more trouble."

He seriously can't believe she just said that.

'OK, to start with - you don't get to decide whether or not there'll be any more 'trouble'. Second, for someone who means nothing to you, you seem to have had a good long conversation with him about this.'

Beat.

'Why don't you just admit that he's your boyfriend?'

He's fishing but at the same time, the evidence is pointing in that direction. Either that, or a good friend. Certainly not 'nothing'.

Her expression flattens; she can't let herself be manipulated, she can't.

"After Katherine told me what happened and I talked with Bill, I thought I could save everyone some grief by doing this. That's it.

"I'm sorry if the concept of a good Samaritan is something you can't fathom."

'Mmm.'

His finger stops stroking along the gun barrel and he picks the weapon up instead. Quite deliberately, he reaches out and puts the muzzle under her chin.

'I think you're lying to me.'

She goes marble-cold and still, gooseflesh rippling down the side of her neck.

I'm so sorry, Bill.

Eyes locked on his, she pulls in a slow, careful breath, pushing past her fear.

"You won't shoot me."

Not here, not like this.

He tilts his head to the side, looking quizzical. The gun stays where it is.

'Really? Why not?'

"Because if you do -- "

The words are ashes in her mouth.

"Security will throw you in the cells before you have a chance to get your revenge on Katherine or Bill."

He laughs again, sarcastic.

'Are you stupid?'

He thinks she's stupid.

'They can't throw me in there forever and I've got a good memory.'

For things like revenge, he's got a great memory.

"So why haven't you pulled the trigger?"

She swallows, wondering if the bile burning at the back of her throat is only her imagination.

"If you need a new accountant, you could've just asked."

'Because if you're dead, you can't answer my question.'

Her attempt at humour makes him smirk.

'Bill's your boyfriend, right?'

"Just a friend," she stubbornly maintains, jaw tight.

(no one's near them, it's too early, too quiet, and her blood and brains are going to splatter the rafters and the bottles of expensive alcohol lining the shelves behind the bar, and she won't get a chance to tell Bill she's sorry)

She won't beg. She won't.

Ramon's eyes narrow. For a moment, everything's still.

(could do it could do it could do it)

...he lowers the weapon, looking disgusted.

'I'll find out either way,' he tells her, in an almost conversational tone as he tucks the gun into his waistband.

It looks like he's done with her because he picks up his coffee and pours the remainder of it down his throat before setting the cup down. And that's when he strikes, lashing out and backhanding her hard, right across the cheekbone.

'You're a lying bitch, Kate. You should have stayed out of this.'

The force of the blow rocks her stool; she slides sideways off her seat and stumbles, only remaining upright because she slaps the counter's surface with one palm.

The pain is so intense that, for a moment, she feels nothing at all.

A heartbeat later, fire explodes along the side of her face and the bar is bright and blurry.

She lifts a hand dumbly to her mouth, and she's not surprised to find blood trickling from her nose.

He watches her impassively. There was more to that than the fact that he wanted to, though that was the main reason. It was also because...well. Any man worth his salt would stand up for his woman, right?

(Ramon rarely stands up for his women.)

If she's Bill's girlfriend, he'll be expecting the man to come looking for him. If not...well, it was a bit of fun because she annoyed him.

'See you around, Kate.'

He wanders off, mind turning to Fiona waiting in bed for him. Excellent.

She doesn't respond; it's all she can do to breathe past the pain of a thousand angry wasps stinging her nerve endings.

She lifts a tissue from the box Bar supplies without prompt, and it's a few long minutes before she stops shaking.

She heads for the stairs on watery legs.

Forget a run by the lake, she just wants a hot shower. Then she'll wake Bill.

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