![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: The Lies You Live
Author: alyse
Fandom: Blade: Trinity
Pairing: Abigail Whistler/Hannibal King
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Highlight to read: violence, implications of past torture and sexual abuse, potential triggers for suicidal thoughts and actions.
Notes: This is the extended, higher rated director's cut version of the story, being posted in parts over the next week or so. If you'd prefer not to wait, a complete (non-sexy, rated 15!) version can be found here. Also, there is fabulous art by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
skylar0grace here.
Summary: Hunting is in her blood and in her bones, but when Abigail Whistler's path crosses that of a smart-mouthed vampire who seems perfectly happy to die, she's left questioning everything she thought she knew. While her team work to cure Hannibal King of his vampirism with an experimental antivirus, she finds herself warming to their captive in spite of her reservations, and when their actions turn out to have devastating consequences, Abby's loyalties are left torn.
Masterlist: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
-o-
Part 06: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
-o-
It rained that afternoon, driving Abby indoors when her bowstring grew too slick to get the draw and speed she needed.
She dried her bow off carefully, checking the string for wear, and tightening and lubricating where she needed to. And then she left it for Hedges to double-check it since he had a knack for these things.
It was still raining when she headed to the top floor, where she'd laid claim to her small room. She liked it up here, where it was quiet and a little away from the rest of her team. She liked it even better on a day like this, when the rain drummed against the slate roof. It had been an office once; there was a skylight where the roof sloped down, and she watched the rain run down the pane, forming rivulets that dripped off the edge and hit the ground below.
The white noise was comforting. It let her drift, losing herself in the rumble of distant thunder. She didn't doze, not exactly, but when King knocked on her door frame it still startled her.
"Sorry, am I disturbing you?"
She stared at him for a moment and then shook her head. "No. Is everything okay?"
He gave her tight little smile. "Everything's fine."
She wasn't convinced, especially when he drifted into her room without waiting to be invited, obviously restless. She shifted sideways on her bed, actually offering an invitation this time, albeit one he was welcome to ignore. She wasn't surprised when he didn't.
"My brother's law firm has a webpage now," he said, sitting himself down on the side of the bed next to her. The words might have been random, but she could tell he was working up to something. "Hedges found it."
"Okay..."
"He's made partner. There was a picture, you know, under the 'about us' section."
She kept silent, which was always the best way to get King to open up.
"It was weird, seeing him."
She watched him for a long moment. "Were you thinking of contacting him?"
He shook his head, a wry smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "That would be kind of dumb." He shot her a look, full of self-mocking humour. "Even for me."
There was something else going on. She searched his face as he played with the chain he now wore. He hadn't been wearing it earlier, but she recognised the tiny, silver medallion on it as Velasquez's. Velasquez must have given it to him earlier for good luck, which was the kind of thing that Velasquez would do, especially given that it depicted St Jude, the patron saint of hopeless causes and that would have appealed to Velasquez's dry sense of humour.
And then it clicked.
"Are you worried about tonight?" she asked quietly.
The muscle in his cheek twitched and he cast her sidelong look, rueful and a little sheepish.
"I shouldn't be, right?"
She touched her tongue to her lips and chose her next words with care. "I think it's understandable," she said. "First time out..."
He let out a sigh, slumping back until he was propped up against her headboard. "I ran errands for Danica sometimes," he said distractedly. "Not exactly my first time out."
"No, but things are different now, aren't they?" She wasn't quite sure if she was trying to reassure him or was waiting for him to reassure her.
He gave a brief, one-shouldered shrug. "Well, I did have that whole vampire thing going on then. You know, shock-proof, fireproof, bulletproof. Except for silver bullets, obviously."
"Ability to leap tall buildings in a single bound?" she asked dryly.
He flashed her a sudden grin, seeming genuinely amused. "Something like that." And then his smile faded, his look growing distracted again. There was a small frown furrowing his brow and his thumb was back to rubbing over the scar on his opposite wrist, a rhythmic little tell that he probably wasn't even aware of. She'd already realised it was something he did when he was nervous or stressed out, and over the last few months she'd had plenty of opportunity to observe both states.
"You know it's going to be okay, right?" she asked him, rolling onto her side so that she could look at him properly. "There's no way that Frank would have agreed to let you go out if you weren't ready, no matter what we said about it."
"Yeah, I know." He didn't look reassured, staring up at the raindrops on the skylight, just as she'd been doing.
"If the rain doesn't stop, Frank may cancel it anyway." He gave her a sceptical look and she shrugged. "The rain makes everything slippery, especially when the streets are dirty. You can laugh, but believe me, if you're going in via the roof, the last thing you want is a rainy night."
He swallowed, looking even more worried as he stared up at the window again, watching the rain fall.
"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," she said quietly and he turned his head back towards her, his eyes searching her face. And then he smiled, some of the tension leaching out of his body.
"Yeah," he said softly. "I know. Inappropriate levels of hero worship, remember?"
She flushed, suddenly aware of the warmth of his body and the warmth in his eyes. "I remember," she said. It didn't come out quelling, like she wanted. It came out husky, and she swallowed, not missing the flare of heat in his eyes.
He shuffled around on the bed until he was lying on his side next to her, facing her and mirroring her position. "I like your room," he said, and there was a hint of laughter in his voice. "It's very... you."
Her room was Spartan, utilitarian, nothing really in there that said anything about her as a person. She liked it that way, or thought she had. But now that he was gently mocking her, it seemed barren and empty. She scowled and shoved him, not particularly gently, and he laughed, his face lighting up as he caught hold of her hand before she could push him away again.
"You're such a dick," she grumbled.
"Can't argue with that," he said. He still had hold of her hand, pressing it against his chest, and she could feel his heartbeat underneath her fingers, steady and sure. She should pull away; she knew that if she did, he'd let her go.
She didn't. Instead she let her fingers curl against his chest, catching in the fabric of his t-shirt.
He finally let go of her, running his fingers over the back of her hand, a feather-light touch that gave her goose bumps.
There was another roll of thunder outside, and he turned his head, staring up at the skylight again. "It's peaceful in here," he said, and she couldn't argue with that, not when she followed his gaze and watched the rain splatter against the glass, the droplets running together so that the sky blurred.
When she turned back to look at King, he was watching her, his gaze as sure and steady as his heartbeat. His fingers had been resting against the back of her hand, but now he ran them gently up her arm, and she shivered. It was like being back at high school again, only she'd never had boys in her bedroom in high school. She was the weird girl, and they were just kids as far as she was concerned: far too young and far too stupid for her.
She was beginning to suspect that she'd been missing something.
King leaned in slowly, his eyes holding hers, giving her plenty of time to move away if that was what she wanted.
She didn't.
His mouth brushed against hers, gently at first and then with more pressure as her fingers curled into his chest again. His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking lightly over her skin.
"Okay," he breathed when he pulled back, his lips still only inches from hers. His pupils were blown wide and black, a kind of hunger in them that had nothing to do with vampirism. "I'll admit to daydreaming about this once or twice, but I've got to say I always pictured it going a little differently. For a start, I figured that by now you'd be punching me in the face."
She swallowed, too caught up in the look in his eyes to laugh. "There's still time."
"True," he said, and then he leaned in again, capturing her mouth more firmly, his lips moving slowly over hers.
This time she broke their kiss, her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. "This is a really bad idea," she murmured, her eyes dropping to his mouth.
"Yeah?" he asked. "'Cause I've got a million of them I want to share."
She kissed him again, King's hand sliding over her hip to pull her closer as she twisted her fingers into the fabric of his t-shirt, pushing herself into him as her tongue slid into his mouth.
He let out a ragged little gasp, his fingers clenching against her skin and easing their way further underneath her top. Shivers ran through her as his thumb stroked into the hollow of her hip bone, sliding over the black ink of her tattoo where it rose above the waistline of her pants. She pressed herself closer to him, his leg sliding between hers as his hands roamed over her skin, feather-light touches that set her aflame.
He rolled them over until she was half underneath him, her hands scrabbling greedily under the fabric of his shirt to stroke over the firm muscles of his back. When he pushed himself up, bracing himself on his forearms to stare down at her, his hair was tousled, his lips were swollen and his eyes were wide and wanting.
She followed him up, her hands slipping back into his hair to pull him down into another kiss, one that was even more heated. His mouth moved over hers, sloppy and urgent, and a surge of pure need went through her, leaving her gasping and arching against him as his fingers left trails of heat everywhere he touched.
His hand slipped under her top again, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her sports bra and driving another whimper out of her as he cupped her breast in his palm. Her nipple was already hard, and his thumb slid over it through the fabric, pressing harder as she let out another gasp, rocking into him. When he finally released her mouth, his lips skimmed over her cheek and then down to her neck, where he nibbled at the soft patch of skin under her ear, leaving her skin tingling in his wake.
He pushed her bra up impatiently, his fingers now settling on her bare skin, and the calluses on his thumb caught against the sensitive nub of her nipple. She let out a low moan, desperate for the feel of his mouth there as well, for his tongue and his lips where his fingers were circling slowly. She slid her hands up his back, her fingers slipping into his hair as she started to guide him where she wanted him.
"What are you doing?"
Zoë's voice echoed from the doorway and King froze guiltily, his hand still on Abby's breast and his eyes meeting Abby's, more than a hint of panic in them.
"Wrestling...?" he offered weakly, widening his eyes a little desperately at Abby when she gave him an exasperated look, her own heart pounding fast and furious in her chest.
"Oh." Zoë seemed to consider this for a moment as King tried to ease his hand out from underneath Abby's top without Zoë noticing. "Who's winning?"
"I... think we both were, maybe...?"
"It was a draw, Zoë," Abby said firmly, giving King another pointed look as she pushed him away, her face flushed and desire still curling low in her belly. "What do you want?"
Zoë looked at them both, her small face confused and a little disbelieving. She had Bunny clutched in one hand, the toy's ears dragging on the floor. "Mom's taking me shopping," she said. "And we're going somewhere with Hedges after." She frowned. "I don't know where," she added a little petulantly. "I wanted to say goodbye."
"Oh. Goodbye, honey," Abby said, trying to even her breathing out and rearrange her clothing without being obvious about it.
King gave Zoë a half-hearted little wave, and Zoë eyed them both seriously. "Frank wants to see you." She turned on her heel and headed off, casting a last confused look back at them as she went.
"Shit," Abby breathed, her heart still pounding.
"Okay," King said, collapsing back onto the bed, letting out an audible grunt as he hit the mattress. "I vote that for the rematch, we lock the door."
"Shit, shit, shit." She couldn't believe how stupid she'd been. "You think Zoë will say anything?"
He pushed himself up onto his elbows, giving her a look that spoke volumes. "That's what you're worried about? Not the fact that we could've traumatised a six-year-old?"
"Frank will kill us."
"Fuck Frank," he said succinctly. "Actually, strike that. I've got no intention of fucking Frank, but you, on the other hand..."
She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth it back into some semblance of order. She could still feel his fingers on her skin, little sense memories that had her shivering again.
"You can joke about it," she said. "But Frank already thinks I'm in over my head. If Zoë says anything..."
"What's she going to say?" he asked impatiently. "Hannibal and Abigail were sitting in a tree? Bed? Whatever."
"I don't want him questioning my judgement," she said fiercely, and the expression slid away from King's face, leaving behind the blank mask she hadn't seen for weeks.
"And kissing the ex-vampire isn't going to do you any favours in that department," he said tonelessly.
"Kissing anyone isn't going to do me any favours. I don't want Frank thinking that I lose my head when the first pretty face comes along."
He lifted up one finger. "Okay, firstly, thank you for calling me pretty. I think." He lifted up a second finger. "Secondly, I'm pretty sure that celibacy wasn't mentioned in the small print when I signed up for this little outfit. If it had been, I might have seriously reconsidered my options."
"Do you have to turn everything into a joke?"
He paused in the act of holding up a third finger. "Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Look, Abby... I spent the last five years having sex when somebody else wanted to, regardless of how I felt about it. I'd like to have sex when I want to, with somebody I want to do it with. Somebody I actually like for a change."
That was a whole can of worms she didn't want to open; she was left with nothing to say except: "So what you're saying is that you like me. 'Like me' like me, or just like me?"
Oh, Jesus, she was turning into him, sarcasm and all.
He stared at her for a moment before realising that she was joking, teasing him the way that he frequently teased her. He rolled his eyes. "You're not funny," he said.
"Well, perhaps not compared to you..."
"Yes," he said slowly, his face suddenly serious. "I like you, okay? And that's... kind of a big deal for me. You have no idea how much."
She could feel the blood rising to her face again. "As in... inappropriate levels of hero worship?" she found herself asking, her voice sounding very small in spite of the fact that she'd tried to make that into a joke, too.
He shrugged, avoiding her eyes, his tracking the rain as it ran down the window. "As in... I was pretty sure I didn't want anyone else touching me ever again. So, thank you for that, at least." He paused and then, because he was King, he had to add, "Now you know why I was so concerned about losing my jerking off hand."
She pushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear, equal parts uncomfortable and touched. It was difficult to find the words to say, but then she didn't need to, not when King was perfectly happy to pick up any conversational slack.
"And on that awkward note," he said, bouncing up off the bed and holding his hand out to haul her up after him. "I think Frank is looking for us."
He held onto her hand for a moment, tugging her back towards him when she started to step away. When she looked at him quizzically, he hesitated for a moment and then slid his fingers into her hair, turning her face up for another kiss.
This one was slow and lingering, and by the time he'd finished she was flushed and warm, her skin burning where his thumb brushed against it.
"I thought you said that Frank was looking for us," she said, her voice low and husky. He nodded, so close to her that his breath ghosted over her skin when he let out a low sigh.
"Later?" he murmured against her mouth and she nodded, finally pulling away.
"Later."
-o-
Frank wanted to run through that night's plans. Abby paid attention where she needed to, not letting the warmth of King's body next to her distract her. She'd grown good at compartmentalising over her time with her team, and now she shoved everything - King's scent, the way his muscles flexed underneath her hands, the way his fingers felt drifting over her skin - into a box and slammed down the lid, tight.
King didn't seem quite as good at it judging by the way he fidgeted, although that might have had more to do with nerves than with Abby. Frank noticed his distraction, but he was patient about it, pulling King to one side to go over things again as Abby went to check her bow and Dex their transport.
"You missed Zoë," Velasquez said slyly, settling against the bench and watching Frank and King. She gave Abby a little sidelong look, amusement clear on her face.
"She came to say goodbye," Abby said shortly, and Velasquez's smile deepened, her eyes bright with suppressed mirth.
"Uh huh."
There was obviously no way Abby was going to be able to fake it. She cast a quick, nervous look over at Frank, but he was still immersed in conversation with King.
"Relax," Velasquez said. "Zoë didn't say anything where Frank could hear her, and she'll have forgotten it by the time she comes back." She gave Abby a searching look. "Sommerfield, on the other hand, won't have forgotten it and I expect you'll have some explaining to do, chica." And then she grinned, slow and wicked. "Like about why you couldn't lock the damned door for a start."
Abby's face was burning and she pressed her lips tightly together, not appreciating the other woman's humour.
"Hey." Velasquez bumped her hip against Abby's. "Screw what Frank thinks. Nice to see that someone's getting some." She turned to look back at Frank and King. "And you could do worse. The boy is fine."
"I thought he wasn't your type."
"No, but it doesn't mean I can't appreciate him on a purely aesthetic level." She gave Abby another sidelong look. "You know it's not smart, right?"
Abby's lips tightened further. "I know."
Velasquez nodded. "Good. It's about time you did something stupid. The kind of stupid that won't get you dead, anyway." She grinned when Abby shot her a disbelieving look, either in amusement at her own observation or the look on Abby's face. Abby couldn't tell. "Don't look at me like that, Whistler. You're far too serious sometimes. Could do worse than have King loosen you up a little, especially if he's as good a lay as he says. Live a little." She shrugged. "Just... be careful, huh?"
"Is this the condom talk?"
"That, too."
Velasquez knocked her hip into Abby's again, giving her a grin as she headed off. She flipped a wave in King's direction, and then it was just the four of them.
"Okay," Frank said, casting an unreadable look in King's direction. "Let's saddle up, people. And let's not fuck this up."
-o-
The plan was fairly simple. Dex parked a block over from the building they were targeting; he'd be there if they needed a quick getaway, and he'd keep an eye out for any unwarranted activity. Otherwise, if everything went to plan, they'd rendezvous back at the truck.
Abby, Frank and King headed towards the dilapidated building that supposedly housed the blood donation centre. At this time of night, there weren't many people on the streets, and the few who had no other choice had been driven into shelters or into the doorways of buildings by the still drizzling rain. Still, Abby stayed alert, her hand resting close the handle of her silver blade as they stuck to the shadows.
King stayed close to her, not quite dogging her heels. Given that Frank didn't comment on it, she could only assume that this was one of the things that Frank had impressed on King during their discussions. It would've been nice, however, if Frank had decided to clue her in.
They stopped when the suspected centre was in sight, lurking in one of the many dark alleyways that marked this part of town.
"Okay," Frank breathed, his eyes searching the darkness. "Abby, King, you're up. You know what to do?"
Abby nodded, her eyes focused on the building in front of them. King nodded, too. His expression was tight and tense, but he wasn't fidgeting now. Instead, his body was still, loose in the way that she'd taught him.
She moved closer to the building, staying in the shadows, King right behind her. The plans that Frank had dug up from somewhere - or more likely that Hedges had - were right. On the east side of the building, where the rain ran down to blocked drains and formed puddles on the pocked road surface, was the rusting fire escape. There was no way that it would have passed local fire codes, which meant that either somebody was greasing palms or, more likely, there were familiars in the fire department.
She eyed it for a moment, judging the distance and the height. And then she took several steps away, not stopping until her back was against the far wall of the building opposite. When she'd gone as far as she could, she ran, splashing through the puddles and using the momentum to go up, bouncing off the wall and twisting her body so that she could catch hold of the bottom rung of the fire escape.
She hung there for a moment, her weight not quite enough to overcome the rust. She tensed her arms, bouncing as hard as she could with nothing underneath her, trying to shift it. And then King's hands were on her thighs, pulling her down, their combined weight finally enough to dislodge the ladder in a shower of rust.
He caught her when she stumbled, her body tight against his for a moment, and then he let go, keeping one hand out to steady her, just in case.
She ignored him, her eyes on the ladder and her ears straining for any indication that they'd been overheard.
There was nothing. Nothing but the sound of the softly falling rain.
She grabbed hold of the rungs, pulling herself up as rapidly and quietly as she could, and King was right behind her, still barely making a sound despite his size. She held out one hand when they reached the fourth floor, keeping him back until she could peer through the dirty window and make sure that the coast was clear.
There was no sign of life. She cocked her head, listening intently and only when she was satisfied did she finally take out her knife, sliding the flat blade behind the sash, wriggling it from side to side to ease the window catch open. She pushed the window up, slipping easily through the gap and landing, soft-footed, on the cracked tile floor.
It stayed quiet, the building as empty as the grave, but she didn't let her guard down, heading towards the door and easing it open a fraction of an inch. Although the lights were on in the corridor outside, they were dimmed. It was weird that a building as old as this one would be fitted with security lights, and they left the corridor full of long shadows, patches of light and dark interspersed. She waited until her eyes adjusted, alert for any sign of movement.
There was nothing. She turned to say as much to King, but the room behind her was empty.
Her heart thudded in her chest, a sudden lurch of fear for him rather than herself. She'd taken three steps back into the room, her hand flying again to the handle of her knife, when King slipped through the window, meeting her eyes. The look in his, as far as she could tell the dim light, was apologetic and a little scared.
"I slipped," he whispered when she drew close enough. "You were right about the rain." He held his hand up, and something white flashed in the dimness. "Cut myself. I wasn't sure if they'd smell it."
She grabbed at his wrist, pulling his palm towards her. He'd followed Dex's lead in the 'carrying a handkerchief' department and one was wrapped neatly around his palm, only the odd rusty streak to tell her that underneath it he was bleeding.
She gave him a look. "It's a blood bank," she whispered back to him, barely hiding her exasperation, and a sheepish look crossed his face. She couldn't really blame him for being nervous, or for over thinking things. Wrapping his hand would've been a smart move for anywhere that wasn't already inundated with the scent of old blood.
She headed back towards the door, King whisper-close behind her so that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. When she reached it again, she checked the corridor both ways before she finally slipped through. They wound their way along the floor, keeping to the shadows as much as possible, and when they drew closer to the top of the stairs she finally drew her weapon, training it ahead of her as she scanned the stairwell just like Dex had taught her. King caught on fast, mimicking her and covering her as she proceeded downwards.
The third floor was empty as well; this far into the building she couldn't hear the rain anymore, just the soft, humming of the overhead lights and the light patter of King's footsteps, eerily quiet.
They hit pay dirt on the second floor. When she glanced through window in the fire door leading from the stairwell, she spotted two men talking in low voices outside a glass-doored room. She crouched down, pulling the fire door open a fraction of an inch and straining to hear them through the gap. King stayed behind her, close enough for her to feel his warm breath against her neck. The rhythm of his breathing was quick, but light. Tense, then, but not stressed. She filed it away with everything else she'd examine later.
She couldn't make out what the men were saying, not before they'd finished talking and reached out to shake hands, but the light was better down here and she didn't miss the small, dark imprint of a clan tattoo on the inside of one man's wrist. The angle was wrong for the other, but she'd bet everything she owned, little as it was, that there'd be a similar mark marring his skin.
That proved it, at least to Abby's satisfaction. There was no doubt whatsoever in her mind that this was a vampire operation. There'd be no doubt in Frank's mind either, whenever he finally caught up with them.
When the men finally moved away, she waited until they'd turned the corner before darting across the corridor to the room they'd stood outside. She slipped inside and waited until King had eased through the doorway as well before she shut the door, her eyes quickly scanning the interior of the room for any signs of danger. There was nothing to see but neat rows of microscopes and a walk in fridge in the far corner of the room.
"Did you recognise the tattoos?" she asked King, heading towards it. He followed her, shaking his head.
"No, I didn't," he said. "They weren't Talos, and they weren't one of the minor clans I know, but then I only know the ones who spent their time sucking up to Danica."
She nodded, already distracted by the walk-in cooler. The door to it wasn't locked, although the handle showed clearly where a padlock would go. She cast a last glance back towards the door leading to the corridor, but there were no shadows that indicated that anyone was outside or was heading back in their direction.
The door pulled open with a soft sigh as the seals gave way, and she rounded the corner, staring at the rows upon rows of hanging blood bags, most of them bigger than the standard one pint donation. But the blood bags weren't the only things on ice; there were a couple of large, dark shapes at the back of the cooler, and when she moved closer they resolved themselves into discarded, lifeless bodies, derelicts judging by the clothing and the smell.
Next to her, King swallowed, although these couldn't possibly have been the first dead bodies he'd seen. "Guess that answers the question of whether or not this is a vamp op. And I'm assuming that with all these bodies, it's a short lived one, too." She didn't follow him. "Dead bodies attract attention," he elaborated.
She looked back at the vampires' victims. "They won't be missed," she said quietly. "They could have a freezer full and nobody around here would notice."
"That's a very pessimistic way of looking at it," he said. "But you may be right." He hesitated for a moment, rubbing his palm with his thumb, which this time seemed more thoughtful than nervous. "What now?"
"The plan hasn't changed," she said calmly. "We hunt vamps, we burn the place down, we find Frank. Not necessarily in that order."
He grinned at her, sudden, sharp and fierce. "I like your plans."
She gave him a tight little smile, pulling out her knife as well as her gun as she headed back towards the door. King followed her, once again mimicking her actions.
The first three rooms they checked were empty and were obviously not in use. The paint was peeling on the walls, blackened with damp in some places, and in one room the corner of a window was cracked, part of the pane missing, letting the rain come through.
They moved on, constantly on the alert for any sign of life - or un-life. It wasn't until they ventured down to the first floor that they found it.
The first vamp didn't even see her coming; she used her silver blade to good effect, sliding it neatly between his ribs, and kept going as he exploded into ash and dust around her.
The second vamp turned as she approached him, throwing his hand up to block her blow. She twisted and spun, breaking his grip on her wrist and slamming the back of her head into his nose. He staggered back far enough for her to slide her foot between his legs, tripping him and following him down to the ground, her knife making quick work of him as well.
She hadn't spotted the third vamp, but then she didn't need to. As the woman headed towards her, screaming like a banshee, King stepped into her path, raising his gun and firing. The vamp was still shrieking as she dissolved into burning embers.
Abby had been hoping for silence, but the sound of King's sidearm wasn't going to alert anyone who hadn't already heard the screams. She clicked the safety off on her own weapon, sliding her knife back into its sheath.
There was gunfire further down the corridor and she headed in its direction, being smart about it and checking every single doorway to make sure that no one could creep up behind her. King followed her lead, although she got the impression he was chafing at the bit. He kept it reined in though and that impressed her more than she wanted to admit, especially given that it was his first time out.
By the time they reached the room where the sound had originated, Frank had the situation under control. His face was dusted with ash and there were two bodies up against the wall, both wearing the same dark suits she'd seen the familiars in earlier.
She guessed that answered the question she hadn't asked about what had happened to them.
Frank gave them the cursory once over. "Any problems?" he asked, and she shook her head. He nodded, his eyes going distant for a moment, and - not for the first time - she had no idea what was going on his head.
"What now?" King asked, doing good job of tamping down his eagerness.
Frank focused on him, his expression smoothing out. "This floor's cleared," he said. "The rest?"
"We cleared them," Abby confirmed.
"There's a couple of bodies upstairs," King added.
Frank's gaze grew even sharper. "Familiars?"
"No," Abby interjected softly before King had a chance to answer. "Looks like this operation got a little sloppy. Homeless, I think. No one's going to be looking for them."
Frank nodded, a little happier. "Then we burn this place down to the ground."
"Murder, mayhem, and arson," King said. "This is shaping up to be my kind of a night."
-o-
Normally when she rode back to base after a night of hunting, Abby was tired but wired. The good kind of wired, the kind that had her alert, running through the night's events, figuring out what she'd done right and identifying where things could have, or had, gone wrong so that she could incorporate it into future missions. It would take her an hour or so to wind down when she finally arrived home and she'd spend that time productively: cleaning her gun, checking and waxing her bow whether she'd used it or not, even hitting the gym for some Pilates until the adrenaline had left her system and she could sleep.
Tonight was a different type of wired. She was alert, but her mind wasn't occupied with running through the night's events. Instead, she was caught up in what had happened earlier that evening, not helped by the fact that King was sitting in the back of the truck with her, his leg pressed up against her and the light scent of his sweat mingling with hers.
His fingers were tapping an arrhythmic little beat against his knee as he stared out of the window, and she had to fight not to reach out and press them against his leg to stop him from fidgeting. Or better, reach out and tangle her fingers with his, just so that she could feel his warmth.
Maybe Velasquez was right - maybe it was time that she did something a little stupid, if she hadn't done so already.
Dex was humming along to the radio and Frank was a silent presence in the front, staring through the windscreen, his profile once again like granite. She took a risk, letting her hand slide down from her leg until rested against King's. He glanced across at her, his expression a little surprised, and then he shot a quick, furtive look in Frank's direction before he, too, shifted his hand, moving it across his leg until their fingers touched.
God, she really was back in high school. Any second now she'd start scrawling their names on the covers of her notebooks, and wouldn't Frank just love that?
Frank shifted in the front, and she turned her head, staring out of the window as the streets rolled past, resolutely not looking at King but still feeling a pleasant tingle every time his fingers stroked against hers. By the time they got back to base, she wasn't simply wired anymore. She wanted him in a way that she'd never wanted anyone, not when she prided herself on being so self-contained. But now all she could think about was him: his hands, his mouth, his dick.
She didn't look at him as she climbed out of the truck, but she didn't need to. She was hyperaware of him, shivering lightly when he came to stand beside her, close enough to attract Frank's attention if Frank had cared to look.
But Frank's attention wasn't focused on them; instead he was staring towards the warehouse doors, his face drawn down into another frown. And then he tensed up, pulling his weapon.
Abby froze, King forgotten. "What is it?" she asked, keeping her voice low and urgent.
Frank held out his hand, gesturing to them to stay still and stay back. She recognised the signal even if King didn't and drew her own weapon, Dex mirroring her actions. King followed suit, looking to her rather than to Frank even though she didn't have any answers for him.
She scanned the building, searching for whatever had alerted Frank. She couldn't see anything, nothing obvious anyway, but she trusted Frank's instincts implicitly. When she looked back at Frank, he made another gesture, sending her and King in one direction while he and Dex took the other.
King hesitated, obviously thrown by Frank's signals. It was something they hadn't covered with him, and she cursed her oversight. She abandoned them and caught King's attention with a hand gesture all of her own, keeping it simple, more like mime than the military style hand gestures that Frank preferred. He nodded, his eyes darting towards the warehouse doors, but he followed her when she moved out, circling around the back of the building to the small door in the side.
There was no sign of Frank and Dex now and she strained her ears for any sounds that might indicate that Mick and Velasquez were in trouble. There was nothing but the soft plink, plink of the earlier rain as it dripped down from the guttering.
She caught King's eye, making another series of simple hand gestures indicating that she was about to open the door and that he should cover her. He nodded, bringing his weapon up in the two handed grip that Dex had taught him.
She turned the handle slowly, half expecting it still to be locked, but it gave with a soft click and she eased it open. It was dark inside the building and she pulled her flashlight from her utility belt, not turning it on yet, just in case there were unfriendly eyes in the building, or even friendly ones that were a bit trigger-happy, as Mick was wont to be. Instead, she strained her ears, but again she was met by silence, nothing but the sound of her breathing and King's.
She slipped through the door, King on her heels. She waited until she was inside with the door closed behind her before she turned on the flashlight, keeping the beam focused as she swept the surroundings with her gun.
Nothing. Just the sound of the rain still dripping, only...
It was coming from inside now, and as far as she knew their roof didn't leak.
She swallowed, feeling the familiar tension building up in her and praying that she - and Frank - was wrong.
The warehouse was big and echoing, which meant that she couldn't tell the direction the sound was coming from and she still wasn't convinced that it meant anything anyway. But by now she should be hearing Mick or Velasquez, the familiar sounds of a basketball in the gym or of Velasquez singing off key, and there was no sign of them.
She took two steps into the building, scanning every corner, every dark shadow before she moved forward. King was right behind her, alert and aware, although she could hear him breathing, loud and heavy, as he tried to control his fear.
She didn't blame him; the fear was starting to rise in her as well, only in her case it wasn't about what might be out there in the dark but about what might not.
She resisted the urge to call for her team mates. If they were there, she'd find them eventually and if they weren't... there could be something else out there, something they didn't need to alert to their presence.
The size of their base meant that they needed to split up if they were to stand any chance of finding Mick and Velasquez, even if she was reluctant to send King off on his own. She slowed down, waiting for him to catch up and then, holding his eyes, she held up a finger, pointing to herself and then in one direction before pointing to him and pointing in the other direction.
He got it, giving her a terse, tense nod and bringing his weapon up again before heading in the direction she'd sent him. She hesitated for a moment, watching him go and fighting the urge to go after him, knowing that sooner or later she'd need to let him off the leash without her to watch his back. She'd just hoped for later.
The first room she searched seemed clear, although there was a sharp, metallic scent in the air, one that set the hair on the back of her neck prickling.
She kept heading towards the mess hall, moving quickly and silently as she searched the rooms one by one, logically and with every nerve on edge. When she finally reached the mess, she slipped, her foot sliding out from underneath her on a wet patch spread across the floor. If the sinks were leaking that might explain the sound of water she'd heard, but when she touched it, it wasn't the slickness of water she felt, but the tacky stickiness of drying blood.
She fought down the panic, tightening her hold on the grip of her gun and taking deep, even breaths. She stayed low, easing the door open and slipping through it so that anyone in the darkness beyond it would aim above her head.
There was no one there, friend or foe, and she straightened up, still listening, still looking.
Nothing. Nothing but silence and the blood on the floor.
She moved on, more quickly this time, heading towards the living areas; if Mick or Velasquez were alive, the offices at the back where they slept would be the most defensible.
Halfway there, she heard a noise. She froze again, tilting her head and listening intently, hoping that she could identify where it had come from. She finally narrowed it down to the gym, which made no sense - it was the most open, least defensible room in the building.
Heart in her mouth, she eased the door open, her hand steady and her grip on her gun firm and sure.
The scent of blood was stronger here, a thick miasma in the air, sharp and sickly sweet. She gagged on it, stepping into the room as her heart pounded in her chest.
Light flashed in her direction, almost blinding her. She brought her weapon up just as the beam lowered and she could finally make out King's face beyond it, deep shadows under his eyes and around his mouth where the light didn't hit.
He dropped the flashlight with a clatter and it rolled on the floor, the beam yawing around the room, leaving her dizzy. She took three steps towards him before she realised that the dark marks on his face weren't all shadows.
His hands dropped again towards what she thought were a bundle rags on the floor before she realised that she'd been mistaken about that, too.
"I can't stop the bleeding," he gasped, and there was blood on his hands as well, thick and dark in the beam from her flashlight. "Abby..."
His voice was frantic and his hands shaking as he pressed them against Velasquez's neck. Abby fell to her knees on the other side of Velasquez, her hands darting out to add pressure to the wound, but the blood oozed past her fingers, coming too quickly and too thickly.
Velasquez's eyes rolled towards her, glazed and unfocused. She tried to speak but blood bubbled on her lips and no sound escaped.
"Hold on," King begged, putting more pressure against the gaping wound in Velasquez's throat. It didn't help, the blood pulsing past his fingers, and by now his hands were red to the wrists. "Just hold on, Selena. Abby's here, okay, Abby's here. Everything..." His voice cracked. "Everything's going to be okay, just..."
Velasquez's fingers came up, clawing weakly at King's hands, or maybe at the wound in her throat. The light in her eyes was fading, her movements growing fainter until her fingers finally went slack.
"No, no, no, no, no... Fuck!"
Abby stared mutely down at Velasquez's bloodstained face as the life ebbed away from her friend. Selena's last breath left her in a sigh, the muscles in her face slackening and her eyes empty and blank as they stared up at Abby. King's hand was still pressed against the wound in her neck, his fingers searching for a pulse that Abby knew he wouldn't find. When his hands flew to Velasquez's chest to start chest compressions, Abby grabbed at him to stop him, her nails digging into the skin of his wrist and scratching against scar tissue.
"She's gone," she said harshly. "There's nothing you can do."
King sat back on his heels, staring at her with wide, wounded eyes, shock and grief in them even though he'd only known Velasquez a matter of months. The knees of his jeans were soaked with blood, darkening the fabric to black, and she let go of him, looking away from him and back down at Velasquez's empty, broken body.
The pain would hit later when she'd had time to process, when she knew that they both were safe and that whatever had killed Velasquez wasn't still out there, lurking in the dark, but right now she was numb, unable to do anything but reach out and gently press Velasquez's eyelids shut.
"We have to keep looking," she said. "Mick -" She bit his name off, knowing that he was already dead. He was a flake, but no way in hell would he have left Velasquez like this if he was still alive. "We need to keep looking," she said stubbornly, and King nodded silently, reaching for his flashlight.
The overhead lights flickered on, and she spun, slipping in Velasquez's blood she brought her weapon up, training it at the door. King was as startled she was this time and she heard the clatter of his flashlight hitting the floor again as he jerked his gun up.
Frank's gun pointed straight at them, the muzzle dark and threatening, and Abby let out a shaky sigh, lowering her weapon, King echoing her move a second or two later.
Frank's eyes swept over them, taking in the blood and Velasquez's body. He slumped, suddenly looking his age, but then his gun came up again, covering the pair of them as Dex stepped into the room behind him.
Abby stayed where she was, keeping her gun lowered. When King jerked his up again, she slammed her hand down on top of it, pushing it back down and ignoring the look King gave her. She met Frank's eyes calmly even though her heart was jittering, tripping fast and furious with grief and fear. She had no idea why he was acting like this, but she was prepared to wait for him to explain it.
"Mick's dead," Dex said, no preamble in his words. His mouth was tight and deep furrows were carved in his face. "The bastards ripped him apart."
Her stomach turned over as she thought back to the sound of the rain that wasn't. It explained the blood outside of this room, and probably everywhere else in the complex. She swallowed, giving Dex a brief nod of acknowledgement.
Frank was staring at King, his weapon still aimed in their general direction. "Where's the cell phone?" he asked, and King's head came up, watchful and wary.
Abby's gaze darted between them, confused. It was standard practice for anyone on the hunt to carry a cell - a burner, something that was prepaid and couldn't be traced - and she had one with the rest of her kit, but she hadn't known that Frank had given one to King.
"Hand it over." Frank's tone was ice cold and implacable, and King fumbled in his pocket, pulling it out and tossing it towards Frank.
Frank caught it, one-handed, the gun never wavering from King. He passed it across to Dex, who opened it up and start to scroll through the menu.
"It's been used," Dex reported. "But the history's been erased."
"Convenient," said Frank, and there was something dangerous in his voice. "Who did you call?"
"What's going on?" Abby kept her voice even with effort. Her fingers were shaking, shivers of shock running through her body.
Frank ignored her, not taking his eyes, or his gun, off King. "Who did you call?" he repeated.
King swallowed, his eyes tracking the muzzle of Frank's weapon. "My brother," he said. He opened his mouth as though to say something else, offer some justification, but one look at Frank's face had him closing it again.
Frank nodded, but not to acknowledge King. More as though King's words had only confirmed his suspicions. "Do you really expect us to believe that?" he asked softly.
"Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on?" Abby interrupted, her voice fierce with fear. "Yes, it was stupid, but what the hell does King contacting his brother have to do with this?"
Frank looked at her and then his eyes drifted past her shoulder, up towards the back wall. The hairs on the nape of her neck prickled again, her shoulders stiffening as she turned her head to look.
There was a clan mark painted on the wall, its outline drying to a rusty brown, marred with trickles where the blood had run while it had still been wet.
She shuddered, her fingers curling into claws around the grip of her gun, but she thought recognised it, and her eyes flickered to King.
"Want to show us yours?" Frank asked, his voice still like ice.
She half expected King to say something stupid, the way he always said something stupid when he was on edge and nervous, but for once he was silent, his shoulders rounding as he drew to back into himself. "It's the same," he said quietly. "Talos Clan."
"Show us!" Frank barked, the sound sudden and harsh, bitter enough to set Abby twitching.
King licked at his lips, still avoiding Frank's eyes as he tugged down the waistband of his pants, displaying his tattoo. His fingers curled helplessly against the skin of his stomach as if he was just itching to hide it, but he waited until Frank's eyes drifted back up to his face again before he pulled the fabric up to cover it.
"You think this is my fault," King said, and it wasn't a question.
Frank's bitterness was even more obvious now. "I know this is your fault."
"Frank..." Abby's voice died when Frank turned his head to look at her, the grief and pain - the rage - in them silencing her.
"They hit the lab, Whistler," Dex said, his voice remote like he was a thousand yards away, lost so deep inside himself there was nothing but this deadened surface remaining. "They knew exactly what to look for."
"Not just what to look for," Frank added, his eyes still fixed on King, the fury in them hardening into a kind of cold hatred that chilled Abby's blood. "They knew exactly where we were and they knew exactly when we were the most vulnerable."
His mouth crooked up, the expression utterly devoid of any humour. "But they didn't know we have fail safes," he said. "You didn't know that, did you?"
King hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning Frank's face, and then he shook his head mutely.
"That's where I sent Sommerfield and Hedges," Frank continued. "They took samples of the antivirus to our other cells - you didn't know about those, either, did you?"
Abby's eyes darted between them, unable to follow what was going on. She opened her mouth to ask, to demand that Frank explain exactly what he was accusing King of doing. But something in his expression kept her silent and she was left sitting next to King, fighting the urge to reach out to him just so he wouldn't have to face Frank alone. Or maybe reach out to Frank, so cold and lost in his anger and grief that he seemed to have lost his mind. The Talos Clan had come to look for King, that much was certain, but that didn't mean it was King's fault. Surely Frank had to see that, no matter how irrational he was being?
King shook his head again, still staring at Frank warily. "No," he said quietly, his voice defeated. "I didn't know that."
"What I don't understand, King, is when the hell you called them. I made sure that you weren't out of my sight after I give you that cell."
The words hit her like a punch in the stomach. She couldn't breathe, her chest tightening as Frank's certainty sweeping through her, leaving her cold and utterly bereft. Her heart shrank down to something small and painful as she remembered, the memory hitting her hard in the gut. She finally brought her own weapon around, training it on King.
"He was out of my sight," she whispered, the memory stealing the strength from her voice. "At the blood bank. Only for a minute or two, but it was enough, wasn't it?"
Her voice cracked on the last few words, her hand shaking so badly that the gun shook, too. She brought her other hand up to steady it, holding it the same way that Dex had taught King as she pushed herself to her feet, moving away from King towards Frank.
King stared up at her, a plea in his eyes, but when she didn't lower her weapon - didn't do anything but stare at him, openly grieving - he dropped his gaze, staring down at his bloodied hands.
"You sold us out," Frank said. "You fucking well sold us out, you piece of shit."
His finger tightened on the trigger and it was instinct, just instinct, to reach out again and put her hand over his, pushing his weapon down much she had back in King's cell. Instinct, and the fact that her heart was fucking breaking.
"We don't know that, Frank," she pleaded, her throat tight with the tears that wanted to escape. She swallowed heavily when he turned his face towards her, his expression as cold, as fixed, as stone, but it was grief she was swallowing down, not fear, not this time. "We've been stupid." Her voice broke. "Not just with King. There are too many people who know where we are, too many weak links..."
"Whistler..."
The tears spilled from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks, but she didn't reach up to wipe them away. "It could have been any of them."
She finally looked back at King, and it hurt, stabbing sharp and deep. It stabbed even deeper when she caught the glint of hope in his eyes.
"If we assume it's King," she said, her voice shaking, "and it's someone else who sold us out, we'll be fucked. We can't trust anyone."
"We can't trust King," Frank said, and there was grief in his voice, too.
"No," she said, and this time her voice didn't shake. "I know we can't trust him."
The hope in King's eyes died, leaving something pained and broken behind as he stared up at her.
"What do we do with him?" Dex asked in a low rumble. "We can't just kill him."
"Can't we?" Frank raised his weapon again. This time Abby didn't stop him even though something in her broke all over again, the tears streaming down her face as she bit back on her sobs, holding them tightly inside her and not letting a sound escape. Only some of it was for Velasquez and Mick; the rest was for her, for having everything ripped away from her at once, for letting him make her this stupid.
I'm sorry, Velasquez. I'm so fucking sorry.
"If Whistler's right, and it was someone else..." There was reluctance in Dex's voice, but she didn't think it was just down to her argument. Dex had warmed to King, too.
"She's not." There was no doubt in Frank's voice and she could only wait for the shot, her heart breaking all over again as Frank's finger tightened on the trigger.
But the bullet didn't come; instead Frank lowered his weapon, staring at King for long moments before glancing at Abby, his expression, for the first time, torn.
"If the Talos Clan want him back so badly, they can have him." He eyed King again and then snapped out harshly, "We have to leave, now. Take his weapon."
Dex stepped forward and King gave it up without a fight. It was just as well; Abby couldn't bear to go near King, not now. She couldn't even bear to look at him, and the weight of his gaze pressed down on her until her knees buckled.
Frank stepped away from King, his hand catching hold of her elbow as she stumbled. He kept his touch light, not dragging her after him like she deserved, and she let him steer her towards the exit.
Her last sight of King was of him on his knees, his hands still red with Velasquez's blood.
She didn't look back.
-o-
And thus ends the first half of the story. ::g::
Part 08: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
Author: alyse
Fandom: Blade: Trinity
Pairing: Abigail Whistler/Hannibal King
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Highlight to read: violence, implications of past torture and sexual abuse, potential triggers for suicidal thoughts and actions.
Notes: This is the extended, higher rated director's cut version of the story, being posted in parts over the next week or so. If you'd prefer not to wait, a complete (non-sexy, rated 15!) version can be found here. Also, there is fabulous art by
skylar0grace here.Summary: Hunting is in her blood and in her bones, but when Abigail Whistler's path crosses that of a smart-mouthed vampire who seems perfectly happy to die, she's left questioning everything she thought she knew. While her team work to cure Hannibal King of his vampirism with an experimental antivirus, she finds herself warming to their captive in spite of her reservations, and when their actions turn out to have devastating consequences, Abby's loyalties are left torn.
Masterlist: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
-o-
Part 06: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
-o-
It rained that afternoon, driving Abby indoors when her bowstring grew too slick to get the draw and speed she needed.
She dried her bow off carefully, checking the string for wear, and tightening and lubricating where she needed to. And then she left it for Hedges to double-check it since he had a knack for these things.
It was still raining when she headed to the top floor, where she'd laid claim to her small room. She liked it up here, where it was quiet and a little away from the rest of her team. She liked it even better on a day like this, when the rain drummed against the slate roof. It had been an office once; there was a skylight where the roof sloped down, and she watched the rain run down the pane, forming rivulets that dripped off the edge and hit the ground below.
The white noise was comforting. It let her drift, losing herself in the rumble of distant thunder. She didn't doze, not exactly, but when King knocked on her door frame it still startled her.
"Sorry, am I disturbing you?"
She stared at him for a moment and then shook her head. "No. Is everything okay?"
He gave her tight little smile. "Everything's fine."
She wasn't convinced, especially when he drifted into her room without waiting to be invited, obviously restless. She shifted sideways on her bed, actually offering an invitation this time, albeit one he was welcome to ignore. She wasn't surprised when he didn't.
"My brother's law firm has a webpage now," he said, sitting himself down on the side of the bed next to her. The words might have been random, but she could tell he was working up to something. "Hedges found it."
"Okay..."
"He's made partner. There was a picture, you know, under the 'about us' section."
She kept silent, which was always the best way to get King to open up.
"It was weird, seeing him."
She watched him for a long moment. "Were you thinking of contacting him?"
He shook his head, a wry smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "That would be kind of dumb." He shot her a look, full of self-mocking humour. "Even for me."
There was something else going on. She searched his face as he played with the chain he now wore. He hadn't been wearing it earlier, but she recognised the tiny, silver medallion on it as Velasquez's. Velasquez must have given it to him earlier for good luck, which was the kind of thing that Velasquez would do, especially given that it depicted St Jude, the patron saint of hopeless causes and that would have appealed to Velasquez's dry sense of humour.
And then it clicked.
"Are you worried about tonight?" she asked quietly.
The muscle in his cheek twitched and he cast her sidelong look, rueful and a little sheepish.
"I shouldn't be, right?"
She touched her tongue to her lips and chose her next words with care. "I think it's understandable," she said. "First time out..."
He let out a sigh, slumping back until he was propped up against her headboard. "I ran errands for Danica sometimes," he said distractedly. "Not exactly my first time out."
"No, but things are different now, aren't they?" She wasn't quite sure if she was trying to reassure him or was waiting for him to reassure her.
He gave a brief, one-shouldered shrug. "Well, I did have that whole vampire thing going on then. You know, shock-proof, fireproof, bulletproof. Except for silver bullets, obviously."
"Ability to leap tall buildings in a single bound?" she asked dryly.
He flashed her a sudden grin, seeming genuinely amused. "Something like that." And then his smile faded, his look growing distracted again. There was a small frown furrowing his brow and his thumb was back to rubbing over the scar on his opposite wrist, a rhythmic little tell that he probably wasn't even aware of. She'd already realised it was something he did when he was nervous or stressed out, and over the last few months she'd had plenty of opportunity to observe both states.
"You know it's going to be okay, right?" she asked him, rolling onto her side so that she could look at him properly. "There's no way that Frank would have agreed to let you go out if you weren't ready, no matter what we said about it."
"Yeah, I know." He didn't look reassured, staring up at the raindrops on the skylight, just as she'd been doing.
"If the rain doesn't stop, Frank may cancel it anyway." He gave her a sceptical look and she shrugged. "The rain makes everything slippery, especially when the streets are dirty. You can laugh, but believe me, if you're going in via the roof, the last thing you want is a rainy night."
He swallowed, looking even more worried as he stared up at the window again, watching the rain fall.
"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," she said quietly and he turned his head back towards her, his eyes searching her face. And then he smiled, some of the tension leaching out of his body.
"Yeah," he said softly. "I know. Inappropriate levels of hero worship, remember?"
She flushed, suddenly aware of the warmth of his body and the warmth in his eyes. "I remember," she said. It didn't come out quelling, like she wanted. It came out husky, and she swallowed, not missing the flare of heat in his eyes.
He shuffled around on the bed until he was lying on his side next to her, facing her and mirroring her position. "I like your room," he said, and there was a hint of laughter in his voice. "It's very... you."
Her room was Spartan, utilitarian, nothing really in there that said anything about her as a person. She liked it that way, or thought she had. But now that he was gently mocking her, it seemed barren and empty. She scowled and shoved him, not particularly gently, and he laughed, his face lighting up as he caught hold of her hand before she could push him away again.
"You're such a dick," she grumbled.
"Can't argue with that," he said. He still had hold of her hand, pressing it against his chest, and she could feel his heartbeat underneath her fingers, steady and sure. She should pull away; she knew that if she did, he'd let her go.
She didn't. Instead she let her fingers curl against his chest, catching in the fabric of his t-shirt.
He finally let go of her, running his fingers over the back of her hand, a feather-light touch that gave her goose bumps.
There was another roll of thunder outside, and he turned his head, staring up at the skylight again. "It's peaceful in here," he said, and she couldn't argue with that, not when she followed his gaze and watched the rain splatter against the glass, the droplets running together so that the sky blurred.
When she turned back to look at King, he was watching her, his gaze as sure and steady as his heartbeat. His fingers had been resting against the back of her hand, but now he ran them gently up her arm, and she shivered. It was like being back at high school again, only she'd never had boys in her bedroom in high school. She was the weird girl, and they were just kids as far as she was concerned: far too young and far too stupid for her.
She was beginning to suspect that she'd been missing something.
King leaned in slowly, his eyes holding hers, giving her plenty of time to move away if that was what she wanted.
She didn't.
His mouth brushed against hers, gently at first and then with more pressure as her fingers curled into his chest again. His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking lightly over her skin.
"Okay," he breathed when he pulled back, his lips still only inches from hers. His pupils were blown wide and black, a kind of hunger in them that had nothing to do with vampirism. "I'll admit to daydreaming about this once or twice, but I've got to say I always pictured it going a little differently. For a start, I figured that by now you'd be punching me in the face."
She swallowed, too caught up in the look in his eyes to laugh. "There's still time."
"True," he said, and then he leaned in again, capturing her mouth more firmly, his lips moving slowly over hers.
This time she broke their kiss, her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. "This is a really bad idea," she murmured, her eyes dropping to his mouth.
"Yeah?" he asked. "'Cause I've got a million of them I want to share."
She kissed him again, King's hand sliding over her hip to pull her closer as she twisted her fingers into the fabric of his t-shirt, pushing herself into him as her tongue slid into his mouth.
He let out a ragged little gasp, his fingers clenching against her skin and easing their way further underneath her top. Shivers ran through her as his thumb stroked into the hollow of her hip bone, sliding over the black ink of her tattoo where it rose above the waistline of her pants. She pressed herself closer to him, his leg sliding between hers as his hands roamed over her skin, feather-light touches that set her aflame.
He rolled them over until she was half underneath him, her hands scrabbling greedily under the fabric of his shirt to stroke over the firm muscles of his back. When he pushed himself up, bracing himself on his forearms to stare down at her, his hair was tousled, his lips were swollen and his eyes were wide and wanting.
She followed him up, her hands slipping back into his hair to pull him down into another kiss, one that was even more heated. His mouth moved over hers, sloppy and urgent, and a surge of pure need went through her, leaving her gasping and arching against him as his fingers left trails of heat everywhere he touched.
His hand slipped under her top again, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her sports bra and driving another whimper out of her as he cupped her breast in his palm. Her nipple was already hard, and his thumb slid over it through the fabric, pressing harder as she let out another gasp, rocking into him. When he finally released her mouth, his lips skimmed over her cheek and then down to her neck, where he nibbled at the soft patch of skin under her ear, leaving her skin tingling in his wake.
He pushed her bra up impatiently, his fingers now settling on her bare skin, and the calluses on his thumb caught against the sensitive nub of her nipple. She let out a low moan, desperate for the feel of his mouth there as well, for his tongue and his lips where his fingers were circling slowly. She slid her hands up his back, her fingers slipping into his hair as she started to guide him where she wanted him.
"What are you doing?"
Zoë's voice echoed from the doorway and King froze guiltily, his hand still on Abby's breast and his eyes meeting Abby's, more than a hint of panic in them.
"Wrestling...?" he offered weakly, widening his eyes a little desperately at Abby when she gave him an exasperated look, her own heart pounding fast and furious in her chest.
"Oh." Zoë seemed to consider this for a moment as King tried to ease his hand out from underneath Abby's top without Zoë noticing. "Who's winning?"
"I... think we both were, maybe...?"
"It was a draw, Zoë," Abby said firmly, giving King another pointed look as she pushed him away, her face flushed and desire still curling low in her belly. "What do you want?"
Zoë looked at them both, her small face confused and a little disbelieving. She had Bunny clutched in one hand, the toy's ears dragging on the floor. "Mom's taking me shopping," she said. "And we're going somewhere with Hedges after." She frowned. "I don't know where," she added a little petulantly. "I wanted to say goodbye."
"Oh. Goodbye, honey," Abby said, trying to even her breathing out and rearrange her clothing without being obvious about it.
King gave Zoë a half-hearted little wave, and Zoë eyed them both seriously. "Frank wants to see you." She turned on her heel and headed off, casting a last confused look back at them as she went.
"Shit," Abby breathed, her heart still pounding.
"Okay," King said, collapsing back onto the bed, letting out an audible grunt as he hit the mattress. "I vote that for the rematch, we lock the door."
"Shit, shit, shit." She couldn't believe how stupid she'd been. "You think Zoë will say anything?"
He pushed himself up onto his elbows, giving her a look that spoke volumes. "That's what you're worried about? Not the fact that we could've traumatised a six-year-old?"
"Frank will kill us."
"Fuck Frank," he said succinctly. "Actually, strike that. I've got no intention of fucking Frank, but you, on the other hand..."
She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth it back into some semblance of order. She could still feel his fingers on her skin, little sense memories that had her shivering again.
"You can joke about it," she said. "But Frank already thinks I'm in over my head. If Zoë says anything..."
"What's she going to say?" he asked impatiently. "Hannibal and Abigail were sitting in a tree? Bed? Whatever."
"I don't want him questioning my judgement," she said fiercely, and the expression slid away from King's face, leaving behind the blank mask she hadn't seen for weeks.
"And kissing the ex-vampire isn't going to do you any favours in that department," he said tonelessly.
"Kissing anyone isn't going to do me any favours. I don't want Frank thinking that I lose my head when the first pretty face comes along."
He lifted up one finger. "Okay, firstly, thank you for calling me pretty. I think." He lifted up a second finger. "Secondly, I'm pretty sure that celibacy wasn't mentioned in the small print when I signed up for this little outfit. If it had been, I might have seriously reconsidered my options."
"Do you have to turn everything into a joke?"
He paused in the act of holding up a third finger. "Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Look, Abby... I spent the last five years having sex when somebody else wanted to, regardless of how I felt about it. I'd like to have sex when I want to, with somebody I want to do it with. Somebody I actually like for a change."
That was a whole can of worms she didn't want to open; she was left with nothing to say except: "So what you're saying is that you like me. 'Like me' like me, or just like me?"
Oh, Jesus, she was turning into him, sarcasm and all.
He stared at her for a moment before realising that she was joking, teasing him the way that he frequently teased her. He rolled his eyes. "You're not funny," he said.
"Well, perhaps not compared to you..."
"Yes," he said slowly, his face suddenly serious. "I like you, okay? And that's... kind of a big deal for me. You have no idea how much."
She could feel the blood rising to her face again. "As in... inappropriate levels of hero worship?" she found herself asking, her voice sounding very small in spite of the fact that she'd tried to make that into a joke, too.
He shrugged, avoiding her eyes, his tracking the rain as it ran down the window. "As in... I was pretty sure I didn't want anyone else touching me ever again. So, thank you for that, at least." He paused and then, because he was King, he had to add, "Now you know why I was so concerned about losing my jerking off hand."
She pushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear, equal parts uncomfortable and touched. It was difficult to find the words to say, but then she didn't need to, not when King was perfectly happy to pick up any conversational slack.
"And on that awkward note," he said, bouncing up off the bed and holding his hand out to haul her up after him. "I think Frank is looking for us."
He held onto her hand for a moment, tugging her back towards him when she started to step away. When she looked at him quizzically, he hesitated for a moment and then slid his fingers into her hair, turning her face up for another kiss.
This one was slow and lingering, and by the time he'd finished she was flushed and warm, her skin burning where his thumb brushed against it.
"I thought you said that Frank was looking for us," she said, her voice low and husky. He nodded, so close to her that his breath ghosted over her skin when he let out a low sigh.
"Later?" he murmured against her mouth and she nodded, finally pulling away.
"Later."
-o-
Frank wanted to run through that night's plans. Abby paid attention where she needed to, not letting the warmth of King's body next to her distract her. She'd grown good at compartmentalising over her time with her team, and now she shoved everything - King's scent, the way his muscles flexed underneath her hands, the way his fingers felt drifting over her skin - into a box and slammed down the lid, tight.
King didn't seem quite as good at it judging by the way he fidgeted, although that might have had more to do with nerves than with Abby. Frank noticed his distraction, but he was patient about it, pulling King to one side to go over things again as Abby went to check her bow and Dex their transport.
"You missed Zoë," Velasquez said slyly, settling against the bench and watching Frank and King. She gave Abby a little sidelong look, amusement clear on her face.
"She came to say goodbye," Abby said shortly, and Velasquez's smile deepened, her eyes bright with suppressed mirth.
"Uh huh."
There was obviously no way Abby was going to be able to fake it. She cast a quick, nervous look over at Frank, but he was still immersed in conversation with King.
"Relax," Velasquez said. "Zoë didn't say anything where Frank could hear her, and she'll have forgotten it by the time she comes back." She gave Abby a searching look. "Sommerfield, on the other hand, won't have forgotten it and I expect you'll have some explaining to do, chica." And then she grinned, slow and wicked. "Like about why you couldn't lock the damned door for a start."
Abby's face was burning and she pressed her lips tightly together, not appreciating the other woman's humour.
"Hey." Velasquez bumped her hip against Abby's. "Screw what Frank thinks. Nice to see that someone's getting some." She turned to look back at Frank and King. "And you could do worse. The boy is fine."
"I thought he wasn't your type."
"No, but it doesn't mean I can't appreciate him on a purely aesthetic level." She gave Abby another sidelong look. "You know it's not smart, right?"
Abby's lips tightened further. "I know."
Velasquez nodded. "Good. It's about time you did something stupid. The kind of stupid that won't get you dead, anyway." She grinned when Abby shot her a disbelieving look, either in amusement at her own observation or the look on Abby's face. Abby couldn't tell. "Don't look at me like that, Whistler. You're far too serious sometimes. Could do worse than have King loosen you up a little, especially if he's as good a lay as he says. Live a little." She shrugged. "Just... be careful, huh?"
"Is this the condom talk?"
"That, too."
Velasquez knocked her hip into Abby's again, giving her a grin as she headed off. She flipped a wave in King's direction, and then it was just the four of them.
"Okay," Frank said, casting an unreadable look in King's direction. "Let's saddle up, people. And let's not fuck this up."
-o-
The plan was fairly simple. Dex parked a block over from the building they were targeting; he'd be there if they needed a quick getaway, and he'd keep an eye out for any unwarranted activity. Otherwise, if everything went to plan, they'd rendezvous back at the truck.
Abby, Frank and King headed towards the dilapidated building that supposedly housed the blood donation centre. At this time of night, there weren't many people on the streets, and the few who had no other choice had been driven into shelters or into the doorways of buildings by the still drizzling rain. Still, Abby stayed alert, her hand resting close the handle of her silver blade as they stuck to the shadows.
King stayed close to her, not quite dogging her heels. Given that Frank didn't comment on it, she could only assume that this was one of the things that Frank had impressed on King during their discussions. It would've been nice, however, if Frank had decided to clue her in.
They stopped when the suspected centre was in sight, lurking in one of the many dark alleyways that marked this part of town.
"Okay," Frank breathed, his eyes searching the darkness. "Abby, King, you're up. You know what to do?"
Abby nodded, her eyes focused on the building in front of them. King nodded, too. His expression was tight and tense, but he wasn't fidgeting now. Instead, his body was still, loose in the way that she'd taught him.
She moved closer to the building, staying in the shadows, King right behind her. The plans that Frank had dug up from somewhere - or more likely that Hedges had - were right. On the east side of the building, where the rain ran down to blocked drains and formed puddles on the pocked road surface, was the rusting fire escape. There was no way that it would have passed local fire codes, which meant that either somebody was greasing palms or, more likely, there were familiars in the fire department.
She eyed it for a moment, judging the distance and the height. And then she took several steps away, not stopping until her back was against the far wall of the building opposite. When she'd gone as far as she could, she ran, splashing through the puddles and using the momentum to go up, bouncing off the wall and twisting her body so that she could catch hold of the bottom rung of the fire escape.
She hung there for a moment, her weight not quite enough to overcome the rust. She tensed her arms, bouncing as hard as she could with nothing underneath her, trying to shift it. And then King's hands were on her thighs, pulling her down, their combined weight finally enough to dislodge the ladder in a shower of rust.
He caught her when she stumbled, her body tight against his for a moment, and then he let go, keeping one hand out to steady her, just in case.
She ignored him, her eyes on the ladder and her ears straining for any indication that they'd been overheard.
There was nothing. Nothing but the sound of the softly falling rain.
She grabbed hold of the rungs, pulling herself up as rapidly and quietly as she could, and King was right behind her, still barely making a sound despite his size. She held out one hand when they reached the fourth floor, keeping him back until she could peer through the dirty window and make sure that the coast was clear.
There was no sign of life. She cocked her head, listening intently and only when she was satisfied did she finally take out her knife, sliding the flat blade behind the sash, wriggling it from side to side to ease the window catch open. She pushed the window up, slipping easily through the gap and landing, soft-footed, on the cracked tile floor.
It stayed quiet, the building as empty as the grave, but she didn't let her guard down, heading towards the door and easing it open a fraction of an inch. Although the lights were on in the corridor outside, they were dimmed. It was weird that a building as old as this one would be fitted with security lights, and they left the corridor full of long shadows, patches of light and dark interspersed. She waited until her eyes adjusted, alert for any sign of movement.
There was nothing. She turned to say as much to King, but the room behind her was empty.
Her heart thudded in her chest, a sudden lurch of fear for him rather than herself. She'd taken three steps back into the room, her hand flying again to the handle of her knife, when King slipped through the window, meeting her eyes. The look in his, as far as she could tell the dim light, was apologetic and a little scared.
"I slipped," he whispered when she drew close enough. "You were right about the rain." He held his hand up, and something white flashed in the dimness. "Cut myself. I wasn't sure if they'd smell it."
She grabbed at his wrist, pulling his palm towards her. He'd followed Dex's lead in the 'carrying a handkerchief' department and one was wrapped neatly around his palm, only the odd rusty streak to tell her that underneath it he was bleeding.
She gave him a look. "It's a blood bank," she whispered back to him, barely hiding her exasperation, and a sheepish look crossed his face. She couldn't really blame him for being nervous, or for over thinking things. Wrapping his hand would've been a smart move for anywhere that wasn't already inundated with the scent of old blood.
She headed back towards the door, King whisper-close behind her so that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. When she reached it again, she checked the corridor both ways before she finally slipped through. They wound their way along the floor, keeping to the shadows as much as possible, and when they drew closer to the top of the stairs she finally drew her weapon, training it ahead of her as she scanned the stairwell just like Dex had taught her. King caught on fast, mimicking her and covering her as she proceeded downwards.
The third floor was empty as well; this far into the building she couldn't hear the rain anymore, just the soft, humming of the overhead lights and the light patter of King's footsteps, eerily quiet.
They hit pay dirt on the second floor. When she glanced through window in the fire door leading from the stairwell, she spotted two men talking in low voices outside a glass-doored room. She crouched down, pulling the fire door open a fraction of an inch and straining to hear them through the gap. King stayed behind her, close enough for her to feel his warm breath against her neck. The rhythm of his breathing was quick, but light. Tense, then, but not stressed. She filed it away with everything else she'd examine later.
She couldn't make out what the men were saying, not before they'd finished talking and reached out to shake hands, but the light was better down here and she didn't miss the small, dark imprint of a clan tattoo on the inside of one man's wrist. The angle was wrong for the other, but she'd bet everything she owned, little as it was, that there'd be a similar mark marring his skin.
That proved it, at least to Abby's satisfaction. There was no doubt whatsoever in her mind that this was a vampire operation. There'd be no doubt in Frank's mind either, whenever he finally caught up with them.
When the men finally moved away, she waited until they'd turned the corner before darting across the corridor to the room they'd stood outside. She slipped inside and waited until King had eased through the doorway as well before she shut the door, her eyes quickly scanning the interior of the room for any signs of danger. There was nothing to see but neat rows of microscopes and a walk in fridge in the far corner of the room.
"Did you recognise the tattoos?" she asked King, heading towards it. He followed her, shaking his head.
"No, I didn't," he said. "They weren't Talos, and they weren't one of the minor clans I know, but then I only know the ones who spent their time sucking up to Danica."
She nodded, already distracted by the walk-in cooler. The door to it wasn't locked, although the handle showed clearly where a padlock would go. She cast a last glance back towards the door leading to the corridor, but there were no shadows that indicated that anyone was outside or was heading back in their direction.
The door pulled open with a soft sigh as the seals gave way, and she rounded the corner, staring at the rows upon rows of hanging blood bags, most of them bigger than the standard one pint donation. But the blood bags weren't the only things on ice; there were a couple of large, dark shapes at the back of the cooler, and when she moved closer they resolved themselves into discarded, lifeless bodies, derelicts judging by the clothing and the smell.
Next to her, King swallowed, although these couldn't possibly have been the first dead bodies he'd seen. "Guess that answers the question of whether or not this is a vamp op. And I'm assuming that with all these bodies, it's a short lived one, too." She didn't follow him. "Dead bodies attract attention," he elaborated.
She looked back at the vampires' victims. "They won't be missed," she said quietly. "They could have a freezer full and nobody around here would notice."
"That's a very pessimistic way of looking at it," he said. "But you may be right." He hesitated for a moment, rubbing his palm with his thumb, which this time seemed more thoughtful than nervous. "What now?"
"The plan hasn't changed," she said calmly. "We hunt vamps, we burn the place down, we find Frank. Not necessarily in that order."
He grinned at her, sudden, sharp and fierce. "I like your plans."
She gave him a tight little smile, pulling out her knife as well as her gun as she headed back towards the door. King followed her, once again mimicking her actions.
The first three rooms they checked were empty and were obviously not in use. The paint was peeling on the walls, blackened with damp in some places, and in one room the corner of a window was cracked, part of the pane missing, letting the rain come through.
They moved on, constantly on the alert for any sign of life - or un-life. It wasn't until they ventured down to the first floor that they found it.
The first vamp didn't even see her coming; she used her silver blade to good effect, sliding it neatly between his ribs, and kept going as he exploded into ash and dust around her.
The second vamp turned as she approached him, throwing his hand up to block her blow. She twisted and spun, breaking his grip on her wrist and slamming the back of her head into his nose. He staggered back far enough for her to slide her foot between his legs, tripping him and following him down to the ground, her knife making quick work of him as well.
She hadn't spotted the third vamp, but then she didn't need to. As the woman headed towards her, screaming like a banshee, King stepped into her path, raising his gun and firing. The vamp was still shrieking as she dissolved into burning embers.
Abby had been hoping for silence, but the sound of King's sidearm wasn't going to alert anyone who hadn't already heard the screams. She clicked the safety off on her own weapon, sliding her knife back into its sheath.
There was gunfire further down the corridor and she headed in its direction, being smart about it and checking every single doorway to make sure that no one could creep up behind her. King followed her lead, although she got the impression he was chafing at the bit. He kept it reined in though and that impressed her more than she wanted to admit, especially given that it was his first time out.
By the time they reached the room where the sound had originated, Frank had the situation under control. His face was dusted with ash and there were two bodies up against the wall, both wearing the same dark suits she'd seen the familiars in earlier.
She guessed that answered the question she hadn't asked about what had happened to them.
Frank gave them the cursory once over. "Any problems?" he asked, and she shook her head. He nodded, his eyes going distant for a moment, and - not for the first time - she had no idea what was going on his head.
"What now?" King asked, doing good job of tamping down his eagerness.
Frank focused on him, his expression smoothing out. "This floor's cleared," he said. "The rest?"
"We cleared them," Abby confirmed.
"There's a couple of bodies upstairs," King added.
Frank's gaze grew even sharper. "Familiars?"
"No," Abby interjected softly before King had a chance to answer. "Looks like this operation got a little sloppy. Homeless, I think. No one's going to be looking for them."
Frank nodded, a little happier. "Then we burn this place down to the ground."
"Murder, mayhem, and arson," King said. "This is shaping up to be my kind of a night."
-o-
Normally when she rode back to base after a night of hunting, Abby was tired but wired. The good kind of wired, the kind that had her alert, running through the night's events, figuring out what she'd done right and identifying where things could have, or had, gone wrong so that she could incorporate it into future missions. It would take her an hour or so to wind down when she finally arrived home and she'd spend that time productively: cleaning her gun, checking and waxing her bow whether she'd used it or not, even hitting the gym for some Pilates until the adrenaline had left her system and she could sleep.
Tonight was a different type of wired. She was alert, but her mind wasn't occupied with running through the night's events. Instead, she was caught up in what had happened earlier that evening, not helped by the fact that King was sitting in the back of the truck with her, his leg pressed up against her and the light scent of his sweat mingling with hers.
His fingers were tapping an arrhythmic little beat against his knee as he stared out of the window, and she had to fight not to reach out and press them against his leg to stop him from fidgeting. Or better, reach out and tangle her fingers with his, just so that she could feel his warmth.
Maybe Velasquez was right - maybe it was time that she did something a little stupid, if she hadn't done so already.
Dex was humming along to the radio and Frank was a silent presence in the front, staring through the windscreen, his profile once again like granite. She took a risk, letting her hand slide down from her leg until rested against King's. He glanced across at her, his expression a little surprised, and then he shot a quick, furtive look in Frank's direction before he, too, shifted his hand, moving it across his leg until their fingers touched.
God, she really was back in high school. Any second now she'd start scrawling their names on the covers of her notebooks, and wouldn't Frank just love that?
Frank shifted in the front, and she turned her head, staring out of the window as the streets rolled past, resolutely not looking at King but still feeling a pleasant tingle every time his fingers stroked against hers. By the time they got back to base, she wasn't simply wired anymore. She wanted him in a way that she'd never wanted anyone, not when she prided herself on being so self-contained. But now all she could think about was him: his hands, his mouth, his dick.
She didn't look at him as she climbed out of the truck, but she didn't need to. She was hyperaware of him, shivering lightly when he came to stand beside her, close enough to attract Frank's attention if Frank had cared to look.
But Frank's attention wasn't focused on them; instead he was staring towards the warehouse doors, his face drawn down into another frown. And then he tensed up, pulling his weapon.
Abby froze, King forgotten. "What is it?" she asked, keeping her voice low and urgent.
Frank held out his hand, gesturing to them to stay still and stay back. She recognised the signal even if King didn't and drew her own weapon, Dex mirroring her actions. King followed suit, looking to her rather than to Frank even though she didn't have any answers for him.
She scanned the building, searching for whatever had alerted Frank. She couldn't see anything, nothing obvious anyway, but she trusted Frank's instincts implicitly. When she looked back at Frank, he made another gesture, sending her and King in one direction while he and Dex took the other.
King hesitated, obviously thrown by Frank's signals. It was something they hadn't covered with him, and she cursed her oversight. She abandoned them and caught King's attention with a hand gesture all of her own, keeping it simple, more like mime than the military style hand gestures that Frank preferred. He nodded, his eyes darting towards the warehouse doors, but he followed her when she moved out, circling around the back of the building to the small door in the side.
There was no sign of Frank and Dex now and she strained her ears for any sounds that might indicate that Mick and Velasquez were in trouble. There was nothing but the soft plink, plink of the earlier rain as it dripped down from the guttering.
She caught King's eye, making another series of simple hand gestures indicating that she was about to open the door and that he should cover her. He nodded, bringing his weapon up in the two handed grip that Dex had taught him.
She turned the handle slowly, half expecting it still to be locked, but it gave with a soft click and she eased it open. It was dark inside the building and she pulled her flashlight from her utility belt, not turning it on yet, just in case there were unfriendly eyes in the building, or even friendly ones that were a bit trigger-happy, as Mick was wont to be. Instead, she strained her ears, but again she was met by silence, nothing but the sound of her breathing and King's.
She slipped through the door, King on her heels. She waited until she was inside with the door closed behind her before she turned on the flashlight, keeping the beam focused as she swept the surroundings with her gun.
Nothing. Just the sound of the rain still dripping, only...
It was coming from inside now, and as far as she knew their roof didn't leak.
She swallowed, feeling the familiar tension building up in her and praying that she - and Frank - was wrong.
The warehouse was big and echoing, which meant that she couldn't tell the direction the sound was coming from and she still wasn't convinced that it meant anything anyway. But by now she should be hearing Mick or Velasquez, the familiar sounds of a basketball in the gym or of Velasquez singing off key, and there was no sign of them.
She took two steps into the building, scanning every corner, every dark shadow before she moved forward. King was right behind her, alert and aware, although she could hear him breathing, loud and heavy, as he tried to control his fear.
She didn't blame him; the fear was starting to rise in her as well, only in her case it wasn't about what might be out there in the dark but about what might not.
She resisted the urge to call for her team mates. If they were there, she'd find them eventually and if they weren't... there could be something else out there, something they didn't need to alert to their presence.
The size of their base meant that they needed to split up if they were to stand any chance of finding Mick and Velasquez, even if she was reluctant to send King off on his own. She slowed down, waiting for him to catch up and then, holding his eyes, she held up a finger, pointing to herself and then in one direction before pointing to him and pointing in the other direction.
He got it, giving her a terse, tense nod and bringing his weapon up again before heading in the direction she'd sent him. She hesitated for a moment, watching him go and fighting the urge to go after him, knowing that sooner or later she'd need to let him off the leash without her to watch his back. She'd just hoped for later.
The first room she searched seemed clear, although there was a sharp, metallic scent in the air, one that set the hair on the back of her neck prickling.
She kept heading towards the mess hall, moving quickly and silently as she searched the rooms one by one, logically and with every nerve on edge. When she finally reached the mess, she slipped, her foot sliding out from underneath her on a wet patch spread across the floor. If the sinks were leaking that might explain the sound of water she'd heard, but when she touched it, it wasn't the slickness of water she felt, but the tacky stickiness of drying blood.
She fought down the panic, tightening her hold on the grip of her gun and taking deep, even breaths. She stayed low, easing the door open and slipping through it so that anyone in the darkness beyond it would aim above her head.
There was no one there, friend or foe, and she straightened up, still listening, still looking.
Nothing. Nothing but silence and the blood on the floor.
She moved on, more quickly this time, heading towards the living areas; if Mick or Velasquez were alive, the offices at the back where they slept would be the most defensible.
Halfway there, she heard a noise. She froze again, tilting her head and listening intently, hoping that she could identify where it had come from. She finally narrowed it down to the gym, which made no sense - it was the most open, least defensible room in the building.
Heart in her mouth, she eased the door open, her hand steady and her grip on her gun firm and sure.
The scent of blood was stronger here, a thick miasma in the air, sharp and sickly sweet. She gagged on it, stepping into the room as her heart pounded in her chest.
Light flashed in her direction, almost blinding her. She brought her weapon up just as the beam lowered and she could finally make out King's face beyond it, deep shadows under his eyes and around his mouth where the light didn't hit.
He dropped the flashlight with a clatter and it rolled on the floor, the beam yawing around the room, leaving her dizzy. She took three steps towards him before she realised that the dark marks on his face weren't all shadows.
His hands dropped again towards what she thought were a bundle rags on the floor before she realised that she'd been mistaken about that, too.
"I can't stop the bleeding," he gasped, and there was blood on his hands as well, thick and dark in the beam from her flashlight. "Abby..."
His voice was frantic and his hands shaking as he pressed them against Velasquez's neck. Abby fell to her knees on the other side of Velasquez, her hands darting out to add pressure to the wound, but the blood oozed past her fingers, coming too quickly and too thickly.
Velasquez's eyes rolled towards her, glazed and unfocused. She tried to speak but blood bubbled on her lips and no sound escaped.
"Hold on," King begged, putting more pressure against the gaping wound in Velasquez's throat. It didn't help, the blood pulsing past his fingers, and by now his hands were red to the wrists. "Just hold on, Selena. Abby's here, okay, Abby's here. Everything..." His voice cracked. "Everything's going to be okay, just..."
Velasquez's fingers came up, clawing weakly at King's hands, or maybe at the wound in her throat. The light in her eyes was fading, her movements growing fainter until her fingers finally went slack.
"No, no, no, no, no... Fuck!"
Abby stared mutely down at Velasquez's bloodstained face as the life ebbed away from her friend. Selena's last breath left her in a sigh, the muscles in her face slackening and her eyes empty and blank as they stared up at Abby. King's hand was still pressed against the wound in her neck, his fingers searching for a pulse that Abby knew he wouldn't find. When his hands flew to Velasquez's chest to start chest compressions, Abby grabbed at him to stop him, her nails digging into the skin of his wrist and scratching against scar tissue.
"She's gone," she said harshly. "There's nothing you can do."
King sat back on his heels, staring at her with wide, wounded eyes, shock and grief in them even though he'd only known Velasquez a matter of months. The knees of his jeans were soaked with blood, darkening the fabric to black, and she let go of him, looking away from him and back down at Velasquez's empty, broken body.
The pain would hit later when she'd had time to process, when she knew that they both were safe and that whatever had killed Velasquez wasn't still out there, lurking in the dark, but right now she was numb, unable to do anything but reach out and gently press Velasquez's eyelids shut.
"We have to keep looking," she said. "Mick -" She bit his name off, knowing that he was already dead. He was a flake, but no way in hell would he have left Velasquez like this if he was still alive. "We need to keep looking," she said stubbornly, and King nodded silently, reaching for his flashlight.
The overhead lights flickered on, and she spun, slipping in Velasquez's blood she brought her weapon up, training it at the door. King was as startled she was this time and she heard the clatter of his flashlight hitting the floor again as he jerked his gun up.
Frank's gun pointed straight at them, the muzzle dark and threatening, and Abby let out a shaky sigh, lowering her weapon, King echoing her move a second or two later.
Frank's eyes swept over them, taking in the blood and Velasquez's body. He slumped, suddenly looking his age, but then his gun came up again, covering the pair of them as Dex stepped into the room behind him.
Abby stayed where she was, keeping her gun lowered. When King jerked his up again, she slammed her hand down on top of it, pushing it back down and ignoring the look King gave her. She met Frank's eyes calmly even though her heart was jittering, tripping fast and furious with grief and fear. She had no idea why he was acting like this, but she was prepared to wait for him to explain it.
"Mick's dead," Dex said, no preamble in his words. His mouth was tight and deep furrows were carved in his face. "The bastards ripped him apart."
Her stomach turned over as she thought back to the sound of the rain that wasn't. It explained the blood outside of this room, and probably everywhere else in the complex. She swallowed, giving Dex a brief nod of acknowledgement.
Frank was staring at King, his weapon still aimed in their general direction. "Where's the cell phone?" he asked, and King's head came up, watchful and wary.
Abby's gaze darted between them, confused. It was standard practice for anyone on the hunt to carry a cell - a burner, something that was prepaid and couldn't be traced - and she had one with the rest of her kit, but she hadn't known that Frank had given one to King.
"Hand it over." Frank's tone was ice cold and implacable, and King fumbled in his pocket, pulling it out and tossing it towards Frank.
Frank caught it, one-handed, the gun never wavering from King. He passed it across to Dex, who opened it up and start to scroll through the menu.
"It's been used," Dex reported. "But the history's been erased."
"Convenient," said Frank, and there was something dangerous in his voice. "Who did you call?"
"What's going on?" Abby kept her voice even with effort. Her fingers were shaking, shivers of shock running through her body.
Frank ignored her, not taking his eyes, or his gun, off King. "Who did you call?" he repeated.
King swallowed, his eyes tracking the muzzle of Frank's weapon. "My brother," he said. He opened his mouth as though to say something else, offer some justification, but one look at Frank's face had him closing it again.
Frank nodded, but not to acknowledge King. More as though King's words had only confirmed his suspicions. "Do you really expect us to believe that?" he asked softly.
"Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on?" Abby interrupted, her voice fierce with fear. "Yes, it was stupid, but what the hell does King contacting his brother have to do with this?"
Frank looked at her and then his eyes drifted past her shoulder, up towards the back wall. The hairs on the nape of her neck prickled again, her shoulders stiffening as she turned her head to look.
There was a clan mark painted on the wall, its outline drying to a rusty brown, marred with trickles where the blood had run while it had still been wet.
She shuddered, her fingers curling into claws around the grip of her gun, but she thought recognised it, and her eyes flickered to King.
"Want to show us yours?" Frank asked, his voice still like ice.
She half expected King to say something stupid, the way he always said something stupid when he was on edge and nervous, but for once he was silent, his shoulders rounding as he drew to back into himself. "It's the same," he said quietly. "Talos Clan."
"Show us!" Frank barked, the sound sudden and harsh, bitter enough to set Abby twitching.
King licked at his lips, still avoiding Frank's eyes as he tugged down the waistband of his pants, displaying his tattoo. His fingers curled helplessly against the skin of his stomach as if he was just itching to hide it, but he waited until Frank's eyes drifted back up to his face again before he pulled the fabric up to cover it.
"You think this is my fault," King said, and it wasn't a question.
Frank's bitterness was even more obvious now. "I know this is your fault."
"Frank..." Abby's voice died when Frank turned his head to look at her, the grief and pain - the rage - in them silencing her.
"They hit the lab, Whistler," Dex said, his voice remote like he was a thousand yards away, lost so deep inside himself there was nothing but this deadened surface remaining. "They knew exactly what to look for."
"Not just what to look for," Frank added, his eyes still fixed on King, the fury in them hardening into a kind of cold hatred that chilled Abby's blood. "They knew exactly where we were and they knew exactly when we were the most vulnerable."
His mouth crooked up, the expression utterly devoid of any humour. "But they didn't know we have fail safes," he said. "You didn't know that, did you?"
King hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning Frank's face, and then he shook his head mutely.
"That's where I sent Sommerfield and Hedges," Frank continued. "They took samples of the antivirus to our other cells - you didn't know about those, either, did you?"
Abby's eyes darted between them, unable to follow what was going on. She opened her mouth to ask, to demand that Frank explain exactly what he was accusing King of doing. But something in his expression kept her silent and she was left sitting next to King, fighting the urge to reach out to him just so he wouldn't have to face Frank alone. Or maybe reach out to Frank, so cold and lost in his anger and grief that he seemed to have lost his mind. The Talos Clan had come to look for King, that much was certain, but that didn't mean it was King's fault. Surely Frank had to see that, no matter how irrational he was being?
King shook his head again, still staring at Frank warily. "No," he said quietly, his voice defeated. "I didn't know that."
"What I don't understand, King, is when the hell you called them. I made sure that you weren't out of my sight after I give you that cell."
The words hit her like a punch in the stomach. She couldn't breathe, her chest tightening as Frank's certainty sweeping through her, leaving her cold and utterly bereft. Her heart shrank down to something small and painful as she remembered, the memory hitting her hard in the gut. She finally brought her own weapon around, training it on King.
"He was out of my sight," she whispered, the memory stealing the strength from her voice. "At the blood bank. Only for a minute or two, but it was enough, wasn't it?"
Her voice cracked on the last few words, her hand shaking so badly that the gun shook, too. She brought her other hand up to steady it, holding it the same way that Dex had taught King as she pushed herself to her feet, moving away from King towards Frank.
King stared up at her, a plea in his eyes, but when she didn't lower her weapon - didn't do anything but stare at him, openly grieving - he dropped his gaze, staring down at his bloodied hands.
"You sold us out," Frank said. "You fucking well sold us out, you piece of shit."
His finger tightened on the trigger and it was instinct, just instinct, to reach out again and put her hand over his, pushing his weapon down much she had back in King's cell. Instinct, and the fact that her heart was fucking breaking.
"We don't know that, Frank," she pleaded, her throat tight with the tears that wanted to escape. She swallowed heavily when he turned his face towards her, his expression as cold, as fixed, as stone, but it was grief she was swallowing down, not fear, not this time. "We've been stupid." Her voice broke. "Not just with King. There are too many people who know where we are, too many weak links..."
"Whistler..."
The tears spilled from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks, but she didn't reach up to wipe them away. "It could have been any of them."
She finally looked back at King, and it hurt, stabbing sharp and deep. It stabbed even deeper when she caught the glint of hope in his eyes.
"If we assume it's King," she said, her voice shaking, "and it's someone else who sold us out, we'll be fucked. We can't trust anyone."
"We can't trust King," Frank said, and there was grief in his voice, too.
"No," she said, and this time her voice didn't shake. "I know we can't trust him."
The hope in King's eyes died, leaving something pained and broken behind as he stared up at her.
"What do we do with him?" Dex asked in a low rumble. "We can't just kill him."
"Can't we?" Frank raised his weapon again. This time Abby didn't stop him even though something in her broke all over again, the tears streaming down her face as she bit back on her sobs, holding them tightly inside her and not letting a sound escape. Only some of it was for Velasquez and Mick; the rest was for her, for having everything ripped away from her at once, for letting him make her this stupid.
I'm sorry, Velasquez. I'm so fucking sorry.
"If Whistler's right, and it was someone else..." There was reluctance in Dex's voice, but she didn't think it was just down to her argument. Dex had warmed to King, too.
"She's not." There was no doubt in Frank's voice and she could only wait for the shot, her heart breaking all over again as Frank's finger tightened on the trigger.
But the bullet didn't come; instead Frank lowered his weapon, staring at King for long moments before glancing at Abby, his expression, for the first time, torn.
"If the Talos Clan want him back so badly, they can have him." He eyed King again and then snapped out harshly, "We have to leave, now. Take his weapon."
Dex stepped forward and King gave it up without a fight. It was just as well; Abby couldn't bear to go near King, not now. She couldn't even bear to look at him, and the weight of his gaze pressed down on her until her knees buckled.
Frank stepped away from King, his hand catching hold of her elbow as she stumbled. He kept his touch light, not dragging her after him like she deserved, and she let him steer her towards the exit.
Her last sight of King was of him on his knees, his hands still red with Velasquez's blood.
She didn't look back.
-o-
And thus ends the first half of the story. ::g::
Part 08: dreamwidth :: livejournal :: insanejournal
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I was all set! Coherent (if a bit ridiculously shippy squealy) commentary and THEN YOU DID THAT TO ME.
I...
I...
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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