Chapter Text
The first night he came back he was silently sitting on the sofa in my living room. I don’t know how long he’d been there. I’d worked late, filling in reports and been home a good hour. I’d eaten some yoghurt, showered, brushed my teeth and had only a towel wrapped around my body and another around my hair. He must have been sitting there, quiet and still for a long time, listening to my activities. I wasn’t surprised really, that I hadn’t noticed him. The man was like a ghost.
I hadn’t seen or hear anything from Alejandro, nor from that fucker Matt, for almost exactly three months.
It was still bright outside and enough light shone in through the shades, so I hadn’t bothered turning on the lights.
I was dabbing my wet hair when I saw the silhouette of a man. I would have recognized him anywhere, any day, or night. I didn’t scream. I gotta hand me that. But I felt like I was going to faint from fear. I’m well trained. I’ve got good instincts and threw myself back, towards my door. I knew exactly where the holster with my gun was. But he’s better trained. I didn’t get more than two steps before he had shot up and pushed me up against the kitchen counter, his palms pressing against the flat surface and his muscular arms on both sides of my hips. I tried to push away his left arm to escape, but he pressed his heavy body against me and kept me pinned to the unyielding surface.
I whimpered with fear. I had nothing against this man, and I knew it. He knew it. He’d overpower me no matter what I’d try, unless I had a gun and some distance between us. But I weren’t sure even that would help. He had an almost supernatural speed and strength.
“Sh-sh-sh,” he whispered soothingly, his face a mere couple of inches from mine. His eyes gleamed in the dusky room. I stared into them, hypnotized. His body was so familiar somehow, the shape if it, his scent, the rumble in his chest when he spoke.
My thoughts fought for space ín my mind. Was he here to kill me? Why in that case? I’d played along. I hadn’t talked. It was slowly killing me, the fact that I had been such a coward and signed that paper, but I didn’t want to die. I really didn’t. Sitting there with my own gun pressed under my chin, just a twitch of a finger away from complete oblivion, I had realized that I wanted to live. If I was dead I couldn’t testify anyway and they’d win either way. So what was the difference?
I had betrayed myself, and everything I believed in. I had been shot, strangled, beaten - nearly murdered. Twice. I would never be the same.
What was worst, what had haunted me sleepless nights this last month, was how hard it stung that it was Alejandro who had delivered the two worst blows. The absolute coldness in his eyes when we had our ten second stand-off on the Mexican side of the tunnel, when he shot me without a second thought. It would stay with me for the rest of my life. Because he had saved me just the day before. And just a few hours before he shot me he had comforted me and showed me kindness in a world where it didn’t exist. Had he really known for sure that I had an armoured vest? He shot two bullets in almost the exact same spot, in the absolute middle of my chest, where I would be by far best protected. But had he been willing to kill me?
Early the next morning he’d held a gun to my head. It hurt even more than the intense physical pain in my chest did. After, it had taken me hours to feel like I could breathe again.
-----------------------
The fear I felt the morning after the op, when I heard the faint rustle from inside my apartment, was worse than anything I’ve experienced in my life. I knew it was him even before he spoke.
“I would recommend not standing on balconies for a while, Kate,” he drawled, just a disembodied voice, but the most terrifying sound I could imagine at that point.
I don’t know if I made the choice consciously, and it sure as hell wasn’t well thought through, but I grabbed the railing of the balcony and swung myself over it. I lived on the second floor and when I hit the ground I landed properly enough, upright, but an almost debilitating pain shot up though my legs. My heart pounded so hard that it made my limbs feel like jelly. Limping on my bare feet, I walked a few steps, then I ignored the searing agony and started running, straight out into the desert, not caring about the increasing pain in my feet. My will to live triumphed the discomfort. I didn’t hear him say anything, but I heard the thump behind me as he apparently also jumped off the balcony and started towards me. I dared a glance behind me.
I still had some distance. I didn’t have a plan, I didn’t know where I was running to, but every fiber in my body screamed at me to get the hell away from Alejandro Gillick, ruthless hitman extraordinaire.
I heard his steps getting closer and no matter how fast I flew across the sand, the pebbles digging into my feet, twigs scraping my legs, he gained at me. I glanced behind me and screamed when I saw that he was already within reach. He tackled me and I fell forward, scraping my every bared patch of skin on the rough ground, my chest aching intensely. My temple was bleeding again and my cheek had taken a hit as well. I slammed my arms against his chest, hit his face with several punches with my clenched fists, tried to wrestle him off me with moves I knew by heart, moves I’d practised over and over again at work. But I had nothing on his heavy body and his skills. For a few seconds it was as if he almost allowed me to pummel him, then he grabbed my arms in one hand and slammed them to the ground, over my head, the other gripped my chin and steadied my head in a firm hold. He straddled me, heavy on my hips.
Two days earlier I’d had the same fight with fucking Ted and lost. This man had saved my life then. Now he was gonna take it. I panicked and screamed.
“Nononononono.” I trashed from side to side.
His grip on my chin hardened and he forced my head until our eyes met. “I’m not Ted,” he said. “Calm down, Kate. Stop fighting. I’ll let you up, but you gotta calm down.”
I stared into his eyes, trying to gauge what he was up to, but his face was as impassive as ever. Tears streamed down my face, pooling in my ears before they fell along my neck and soaked the ground. He let go of my chin and caressed my cheeks, wiping some of the wetness off.
My chest heaved erratically under his weight, and my sternum hurt bad. But I stilled.
“Don’t run,” he said slowly, as if to a child, and then he cautiously let go of my arms, one inch at a time, ready to pounce again if needed. I nodded unhappily.
He got up from his kneeling position and stood, then he stretched an arm out towards me. I grabbed his strong, warm hand and let him pull me up. I stared emptily at him.
You don’t run from Alejandro Gillick. You can’t run far enough, or fast enough. You don’t get away.
None of us moved. We just looked at each other, both sweating profusely from the run, the fight, and the already steadily rising heat. He nodded back towards my apartment. “Come,” he said. He let me take the lead, walking a few inches behind. I limped badly because now, when the adrenaline rush started to wear off, my feet hurt immensely. Of course he noticed.
“Let me look at you, Kate. Stop. Show me your feet.”
I lifted one. He grabbed around my ankle as if it had been a hoof and inspected my sole, then he frowned. I didn’t want to look, they felt like they had been grinded into a bloody pulp. Then I lifted the other foot, but he had already seen what he needed to see. “You’re not walking on those.” And with that he scooped me up in his arms, as if I weighed nothing. He carried me all the way back home, up the stairs, opening my apparently unlocked door and set me down once we were inside.
I took a couple of painful steps forward and noticed that I left traces of blood on my carpet.
He noticed too and shook his head, making a face. “That was stupid, Kate. Don’t make things harder than they need to be. Sit down.”He nodded towards my chair. His voice was soft, but left no room for negotiations.
I moved towards the table, filled with dread. My legs barely carried me when I walked to my death. Or at least that was what I thought I knew. I didn’t know I was going to be given a chance, a choice. I had cursed myself over and over the whole night for telling Matt that I was gonna talk. I should have been more clever than that. You don’t threaten people like these. You just don’t. But I was hurt. And majorly pissed. I hadn’t thought it through.
My knees almost gave out when I bent them to sit and sank down on my chair. I looked up at Alejandro just in time to see him lift a gun and point it at me. I froze completely. He had my gun. I hadn’t seen it at first in the shadows. But that was my gun.
“Oh no, Alejandro,” I whispered.
He was so calm. Frighteningly calm. He knew that I already had a profound knowledge of my complete helplessness. I looked at the man. His eyes were almost compassionate again. Like they had been when he comforted me after he saved my life. His presence filled the room completely.
“You look like a little girl when you’re scared,” he said with unexpected tenderness.
He rose and strode over to me, his eyes never letting go of mine. He sat with a sigh, my gun pointed at my stomach. He watched me in silence. It seemed to last forever. I had so much I wanted to say, but my lips wouldn’t form a single word. I followed the hard, weathered lines of his face, his gruff salt and pepper beard, his hooded eyes that looked as if they’d seen more than any human should see.
“You remind me of the daughter they took away from me,” he said, his voice hoarser than its usual raspiness. He didn’t move, neither did I. The part of my brain that hadn’t turned to mush from fear found it ironic that he’d kill me after saying that.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered. My parched throat wasn’t able to produce a sound above that.
He sighed, produced a paper and lay it on the table between us. “I need you to sign this piece of paper.” He paused as I tried to decipher it. Then he spoke again. “It basically says that everything we did was done by the book.”
“Bu- but-” I stuttered. They wanted me to sign off any right I’d ever have to tell the truth about the disaster that was yesterday. No, no, don’t make me do this! My vision was blurred with tears. I tried reading what it said, but failed.
He picked a pen out of his pocket and tossed it on the paper. It bounced on my knuckles before it settled.
“I can’t sign this,” I finally whispered, trembling, because I knew what he was, what he could do, how bad he could hurt me. Still, I just couldn’t. We looked at each other in silence. Hadn’t I been so scared it could have been a comfortable silence even. I tried to plead with him, silently. ‘Don’t do this to me.’ He could be beautiful, hadn’t his eyes been so… dead. Did any life matter to him? When your own doesn’t anymore, does anyone’s?
“Sign it” he said, still so softly.
I hurt so bad, my insides clenched in pain and I covered my face as it scrunched up. I had to. but I just couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I didn’t flinch when he carefully lay his hand around my forearm, engulfing it completely in his large palm, and put my arm back down on the table. He kept holding it, his thumb stroking my skin, as if trying to soothe me.”It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“I can’t sign this.” I looked at him and slowly shook my head. My voice nothing more than a meek whisper. I pleaded with him wordlessly, our eyes searching each other, the moment stretching.
He sighed heavily and leaned forward, his hand still holding my arm, his palm warm on my skin. I don’t know what I expected, but when he leaned in close and put his gun under my chin my fear level spiked into something I’d never experienced before. I knew, with complete certainty, that Alejandro would do this. Kill me.
“God!” I burst out.
“You would be committing suicide, Kate.” His face was close to mine, but not menacing, only saddened.
“Please, Alejandro… You saved me…” I whispered. I had never felt such despair in my life. I have seen enough murder scenes to clearly envision the blood and brain matter splattered on wall and ceiling, my head having exploded all over the room. “Why did you bother?” I asked, bitterly.
He shook his head slowly. “Come on. Sign it,” he said with something pleading in his voice, and yet something final. He didn’t seem impatient. But he didn’t negotiate. If I didn’t comply now, I’d die. Tears started trickling down my cheeks. He held my gaze, then his hand left my arm that he’d been holding the whole time and moved to my face, caressing the tears away from my cheeks. “Kate…” He stroke my hair, then he pressed the pipe of the gun harder against my chin.
I shivered, heat and chill coursing through my body. Then I leaned closer and picked up the pen. Trembling, I signed away everything I had fought for in my life, everything I’d prided myself of, and tossed it away like a coward.
I looked back up at him. He looked down at the paper, then up at me, his face an unreadable mask. Then he leaned back and pulled away the gun, picked up the paper and stood.
“You made the right choice, Kate.”
I shook my head, staring at my hands, folded on my lap. I was crying freely, shivering violently from the shock. I heard the familiar sounds of a gun being disassembled and the parts being tossed, scattering on the floor. Then there was no sound. Eventually I looked up. He was standing absolutely still, just looking at me. When our eyes met he moved forward, slowly, as if approaching a wild animal. I was far from wild. I was beaten. I felt like I was dying. Then he took a few steps towards me again and sat back down on the chair opposite me.
“Come here,” he said in a low voice and stretched out an arm, palm up.
There was something so comforting in the way he said it, and up until last night I had felt such kinship with him for some reason. I’d felt like he saw me, like he cared. I know I had cared because he had always looked so forlorn. He had that same look now. My brain screamed ‘run’, the rest of me wanted to lean in and let him put his arms around me. My heart beat wildly, I shook so badly that I could barely move. Eventually my brain lost the struggle of wills. I leaned forward, not even as far as an inch, but of course he noticed it and pulled me to him, engulfing me in a careful embrace, as if not to scare me.
“You’re shaking so much,” he whispered.
I couldn’t speak.
His hold around me tightened, then he rose, scooped me up in his arms, hugging me against his solid chest and carried me to the couch, pushing the table to the side with his knee as he sat down. He smelled so very him. Heavy, musky, no perfume, just male, just him. He rested his chin on the top of my head and none of us spoke for a while. My ear lay against his chest. I heard his heart beat, felt the slowly rising and falling when he breathed.
“I never wanted to hurt you, Kate.” His voice a rumble in his chest.
“And yet you did,” I said, having regained to tiniest of composure now that I knew I would live.
“Yes. I am sorry for that.”
“You did what you had do do,” I whispered.
“It needed to be done,” he said. “I got what I came for.”
My heart sank. “My signature on a piece of paper.” I closed my eyes and saw myself signing it, on repeat.
He flinched. “No. Last night. I got closure.”
I looked up, meeting his dark gaze, so full of emotion again. “Did you find the man who killed your family?”
He looked surprised.
“Matt told me last night,” I said. “When I tried to beat the shit out of him but ended up being slammed to the ground instead.” Then I added: “But then I got really pissed at being strangled, shot, beaten, and used. So I said things...”
He made a face. “Yes, Kate. I got him.”
I nodded.
“Will you be okay?” he asked.
“No,” I said. .
He nodded. Then he lifted me off him and put me down next to him, placing a quick kiss on my forehead. “I must go.” He rose, took one last look at me. “Take care of yourself, Kate.” He frowned and sighed heavily. “You should move to a small town. Where the rule of law still exist. You’re not a wolf, and this is the land of wolves now.” Then he turned and disappeared from my view. I heard the front door open and close. I didn’t move for a very long time.
The feeling of his lips on my skin burned hot even longer.