Author: Eggy Weg
Rating: PG 13
Classification: Angst
Spoilers: Need to know
Archive: Sure, help yourself
Feedback: Please, good and bad
Summary: Lets paint house
Disclaimer: Not mine
With the screams of that night still ringing in his ears, the shriek of the phone and the thuds on the door had done nothing to bring him around. He had zoned out from the noise about five minutes ago, now concentrating on the task at hand. He had to get rid of the blood to get rid of the memories. Finally moving from the door he rolled onto his knees, the pain in his ribs sending him hurtling back to reality.Roughly dragging his hands through his hair and onto his face he snapped
"GOD DAMMIT" he shouted weeks of pain and frustration sending him over the edge "why?"
`Why' he thought of all the people he had sent to their deaths over the years, all the ones he left behind and he knew why. Even if he had a good reason it was still wrong to do. Even though it needed to be done he could have said no, thought up a different plan. Sure he had tried his best but that never was good enough for anyone. He had always known there were going to consequences he just never expected them to be this bad. But what he couldn't understand was why Jack had to die, to suffer. He had three kids and a beautiful wife, he
had everything to live for. He had never done anything bad in his life. `Ha, unless you count that food fight when he threw mashed potato on Bobby Kennedy'. He smiled at the memory but it soon disappeared when the nastier ones took over.
`Oh God this is so bad, first mom wont leave and now Mac and Harm. There has to be a way out of this' a painful sob escaping his control when no answer came his way. Giving up he sighed and grabbed the paint tin attacking it with the nearest suitable object. Finally getting it open he tipped it onto its side and wiped it into the
carpet none to gently.
"He's not going to answer" Mac said hanging up the phone. Harm stopped banging on the door and tried to open it. When it didn't open he kicked it and started walking away.
"There has to be another way in" He said walking around the side of the house. Worry setting his unusually fast pace. Mac ran to catch up to him only to run into him as he stopped dead in his tracks.
"HARM" She ground out, they were both a little too much on edge. But she didn't finish her sentence. She had seen the horror in his eyes, and followed them into the window. The room was completely trashed. The furniture was broken and there contents thrown about. She heard a sharp intake of breath and then Harm ran off to try the back door. She wanted to follow him but she couldn't move all she could do was stand there and stare into the window. Tears welling in her eyes `pull it together marine Clay needs you'. It seemed the only thing left standing upright was the piano and even that had blood on it. `BLOOD' her eyes widened, and she looked around the room again to see blood every where. She couldn't understand how she hadn't seen it before, and a tear escaped her eyes before she regained control
"Harm we've got to get in there" She urged, surprised at how calm she sounded.
"Way ahead of you" He said walking back to the front door with a brick in his hand. He started banging on the door again.
"CLAY, IF YOU DON'T OPEN UP WE ARE GOING TO HAVE TO BREAK IN" He shouted his concern evident in his voice.
He walked in to the room with the other tin of paint, oblivious to their shouting. His ribs were really starting to hurt and he dropped the paint tin, holding onto his side in a useless attempt to dull the pain. He lowered himself and sat in the middle of the floor trying to catch his breath.
"CLAY, BUDDY KEEP AWAY FROM THE DOOR" Giving him enough time to move he smashed the side window, hoping he had heard him. Putting his arm in he unlocked the door. He entered to see a blood and paint stained carpet. `This is not good' he thought walking into the room. Lifting his hand to rub his suddenly sore arm he realised Mac was gripping it tightly. Then he looked up to see Clay sat in the middle of the room pointing a gun at them, fear deep within his eyes.
He had heard the window break and automatically thought the worst. He tensed and grabbed the gun from his waist banned. They weren't taking him again. Not alive. As Mac came into view he relaxed a little, he had forgotten they were there. They stayed like that, still and silent, for what seemed like an eternity. Clay sighed, lowering his gun and wiping the sweat from his brow. He gave in he was too tired, to scared, and too down right lonely to fight anymore. They weren't going to leave and he knew it. He grabbed the paint tin and took out his frustrations on it.
"If id of known I was going to have visitors I would have cleaned up a little." He joked, trying to ease the tension but not daring to look up from the tin. He hoped they would play along, it felt good to act like that again.
They just stood there staring at him, wondering what had happened. Looking at Clay in the light they could see the wrinkles in his suit and the stubble on his face. Looking more closely you could see the new worry lines around his eyes and the dark circles around them; he looked like he hadn't slept in days. No it was worse than that, he looked defeated. He knew they wanted him to tell them. He wanted to tell them, to warn them. But he couldn't say it, not out loud.
"Feel free to sit down" he said, as Harm started to move "if you can find the couch" he had meant to joke but the bitterness was all too evident in his voice.
"Jesus Clay, what the hell happened here" Harm blurted out as he placed the TV cabinet in its upright position. Mac giving him a warning glare as he put the TV in place even though it was broken.
"Hey. It may not be much but its home" he was starting to get angry now, they weren't going to play along and he still couldn't get the paint tin to open. He knew Mac was watching him and the shaking in his hands had got worse
"WHY WONT IT JUST OPEN?" he shouted, frustration getting the better of him. As he stabbed the tin. Stopping sharply as the pain crushed the air from his lungs.
Mac rushed to him resting a calming hand on his shoulder as she kneeled down and took the screwdriver from his hands. Both were too distracted to acknowledge the bolt of electricity that shot through them at the contact. Relaxing in her presence but still not daring to look at her. She passed him the open paint tin and as their hand touched he whispered his thanks. Taking the tin he tipped some on the carpet. Spreading it with his hands, he tried to cover as much blood as possible.
"Do you need help with that?" she asked deciding to play along. She kneeled in the paint with him and spread it around. Not wanting to push him over the edge she decide to wait and see if he would tell her in his own time. `Just don't take to long'
She heard a weak laugh and looked to see a small smile playing at his lips `not many people would spread paint on a blood stained carpet for me' he laughed more at the obscurity of that thought. Then he realised he was staring into her smiling face, her concern clear in her eyes, her fear hidden behind it.
Quickly breaking eye contact he looked over her shoulder only to be confronted with the bloody handprint. He felt his throat tighten. He scooped some paint out of the tin and walked to the wall placing his hand on the print. Mac and Harm cringed it was a perfect fit it was his handprint, it was his blood. A distant look in his eyes he slowly moved his hand along the drag marks. Sweat appeared on his forehead as the tears burnt his eyes. Unable to keep the charade up any longer he curled in on himself and broke down. His tears turning into uncontrollable sobs as Mac pulled him into a hug. He knew she would never let go. Part of him didn't want her to; all of him didn't want her too.
Harm who had been wiping the blood from the piano walked into the kitchen. To give them some privacy and to hide the tears that were threatening to form in his own eyes.
~~~~TBC~~~~