Chapter 21
Ginger felt as though her head were pounding mercilessly inside itself, trying to break her up. Tears ate away at the insides of her eyes but refused to come out, and for that she was glad. Better not to have them show, better not to show what she felt.
For the first time in her life, she was afraid. Not shaking, but afraid all the same. After seeing what had happened to Trae, her mind kept bringing up pictures of the others and herself, dead or dying. Involuntarily her mind brought up the various gore-filled pictures, and though she tried to push them away, and to keep them away, they kept returning.
If Felicity had killed once, she could kill again, and Ginger didn't want to see that happen, not to her friends. Not to Dan, Mike, Shadow… And not to Matt.
For his sake, she hadn't wanted to leave. There had been a breed of fear in his eyes that was his own, and it was for her. She wasn't even sure he felt the fear, but it was there as definite as her own fear.
There had been a deep longing, too, the same longing she felt. All she wanted was to sit beside him, to hold him to her, to have him hold her, to have it all be as it had been before.
That was impossible, though, and she knew it. All because of what had happened, the way everything had turned out. They would all be busy rebuilding the team, all be busy watching their backs…
Part of her knew that he'd always be there, though, even when she felt like she'd never be able to see him. Matt would always be waiting when the day was over, waiting to talk, or to simply sit together and relax. Waiting for her.
She didn't want all of that to be destroyed by a crazy agent and her gun, though. Couldn't stand to see it all go down. And it could, too. With one shot, one bullet, one pull of the trigger, all of their dreams could be burned, could end in a bloody mess.
What she wanted was to find Felicity before it was too late to do anything, before the woman killed again, killed someone she knew, someone she loved.
Because it hurt to even imagine a scenario without Matt. If he was killed, she felt it inside that she would be dead herself… Maybe not physically, but emotionally.
As she strode quickly down the sidewalk, following the direction Dan had pointed out, she heard her footsteps echo across the deserted street, followed by Dan's. At midnight, everyone else was sleeping.
"How ironic," she thought. "They're all resting peacefully while we're hunting down a mad murderer."
The thought almost struck her as funny, only the fact that she had just seen the victim of the first murder kept her quite. She had never liked Trae, and had seen people killed, had killed people herself.
When she thought of the murder, though, she realized it was unlike any she'd ever seen or been part of. When she had killed, it had been for revenge. Part of her mind continuously told her that it was wrong, that she shouldn't kill no matter what. She had ignored it, though, always ended up killing anyway.
In the case of Felicity's murders, though, she saw that there was an emptiness, a wastefulness. There had been no reason for the murder, except that Felicity was insane. She had simply killed Trae.
And if she had killed Trae, she'd kill them too. Ginger wanted to find her before that, wanted to wring her neck, stab her with the Veneblade she had taken along…
That was getting ahead, though, and she realized that there was a sort of urgency to stay on guard in the present. Felicity could have been anywhere, hiding, waiting to shoot them both.
Would she kill them in the middle of the city?
Of course she would. In her state of mind, it would be perfectly logical. They'd be 'taken care' of, and anyone who walked out of their houses would get one hell of a shock when they walked out to investigate. They'd all see the work of Felicity Bearge. Felicity, who'd be standing by a wall, laughing.
Shaking the thoughts away, Ginger looked over at Dan, who was about half a foot behind her stride. His face was concentrating, probably thinking deep into what was happening. Ginger realized that she wasn't the only one with a lot on her mind. Dan had apparently been hurt just as bad.
In his eyes was a flame that was very unlike him. Usually he was calm, sensitive, and ready to accept what happened while retaining a fair amount of sanity.
What she saw in his eyes was different, though. It was the flames of hate, of merciless anger, of a will to kill. She had seen it before, had seen it in Shadow as she walked out, in fact.
She felt the anger as deeply, and didn't doubt that the flames showed in her eyes, too. They probably burned with as much or more force than Dan's, but she didn't dwell long on that particular subject.
The crisp, cool air worked at clearing her mind, but seemed unable to get in. It was blocked by the massive torrent of thoughts she felt inside, twirling around manically. She wanted to give it a chance to clear her mind, to let her think straight, but couldn't. Every time she tried, the thoughts rushed back in readily, willing to keep tearing at her, hurting her.
Dan hadn't spoken yet, which did surprise her slightly. Normally he'd have said a lot by that time, would've been asking questions nonstop. Hell, he normally wouldn't have followed her.
Maybe there was something to that destiny thing. Some sort of demented truth that lay beneath it. Maybe everything they did was inevitable, that their paths were chosen.
If that was so, than she felt she wanted to know what happened next, and what would happen. Destiny was a fairly new idea for her, Dan and Shadow had brought it up on many occasions. Both seemed to have believed in it firmly, and she was starting to feel a sense of it.
"No," the part of her mind that remained calm under all circumstances spoke for the first time since the murder. "Don't think about that."
She didn't want to, she realized. Didn't want to believe that there was an unbreakable force that bound their lives, that made them do what they did. She didn't want to believe that she wasn't in control of her own life.
So she simply chose not to.
"Ginger?" Dan finally broke the silence, and Ginger felt a strange sense of relief as he spoke, as if everything wasn't falling apart.
"Yes?"
"Where is she?"
That question had occurred to her. How would they find her if they didn't know where she had gone. There were thousands of places in Celadon alone that she could hide, not counting the forests and the towns outside of it. It would be virtually impossible to catch her as they were going. "I don't know. I don't even know how we'll find her."
There was silence for a moment as they walked on, than Dan spoke again. "I feel that we'll find her. Like we have to… as if it were destiny."
Ginger felt her mind cringe back at the word and finally realized how much she loathed the idea. In the next second she replied back, not thinking about what she was saying. "We'll find her, all right…"
And she did feel that they would find Felicity, felt it in her soul. But she didn't think it was destiny,. Wouldn't let herself believe that. So she said what she believed.
"I think she wants to be found. If we don't find her, she'll find us."
Dan looked at her, and she looked at back at him for a moment before looking forward again. "I think you're right…" he sounded afraid, yet somehow ready.
"I know I am."
Chapter 22
Giovanni stared out the window of the car as it drove through the darkness. They'd been in the car for over half an hour, and he was beginning to wonder exactly what his brother had in mind, and if he was in his right mind.
After all, Geoffrey had never done anything before the trial. What if it was some sort of trick? What if he was taking him in to the people at the agency?
"You idiot," he chided himself, feeling a growing sensation that he was steadily growing insane. "Why would he take you out of jail to get you to the government?"
Of course he'd been stupid to think that, and he knew it. Still, he couldn't help wondering. After all, someone who works for the government doesn't usually help anyone against it, family, friend, or not.
And if he was doing this for him, than why? What did he think was in it for him? The question wouldn't keep from plaguing at Giovanni's mind, and he snarled inwardly at it. He hating not knowing, hated wondering…
There was only one thing to do if he wasn't going to sit and be quiet. He could sit and ask. Feeling that he could be quiet no longer, he spoke the question that had been engulfing his mind. "Why are you doing this?"
Geoffrey didn't turn, but Giovanni thought he saw something change in his expression. For a moment he didn't say anything and the silence crept back in. Just when Giovanni was ready to ask again, his brother answered. "For starters, it's one of the only good things I had left to do."
For a moment he just stared across the darkness of the car, than Giovanni laughed unwillingly. He hadn't wanted to, but he found himself unable to contain it. What Geoffrey had said struck him as hilarious, the first humor he'd heard in what seemed like years.
This time Geoffrey did look at him, and there was a steel discontentment in his eyes, one that confused Giovanni. He'd never seen his brother like that before, had never seen such an intense look of concentration. "What's so funny?"
"Good?" Giovanni raised an eyebrow.
Geoffrey shrugged, turned his head back, and resumed driving in silence. He had closed the matter then and there, at least for the moment.
Something HAD happened to Geoffrey, he couldn't shake that thought. Why else would he be looking like that? He was serious, dead serious, something he'd never been when he was younger.
Of course, a lot had happened since then. More than Giovanni liked to remember, and, he figured, more than Geoffrey liked to remember.
And he himself had once had good intentions, had wanted to stay away from anything that would be disapproved of… When his mother had caught up with him, though, all of the good intentions had vanished, and he had taken up her offer immediately.
Her offer had been for him to become the Boss. The head of an organization of criminals who would do what he said, when he said it. It had been irresistible, that idea of power like that. Without thinking, he had plunged into the work.
That was how he had lost her, his wife. That was how Ashley had gone. Why she had gone, the reason she had left him alone…
Absently, he rubbed the brass ring on his finger. Though there were scratches, he had never gotten it redone, had never replaced it. That ring was from Ashley, the symbol of her love for him, or what love she had once had.
That ring reminded him of the past with a sharpness that hurt like a spike driven through his chest. He didn't want to think about it again, didn't want to be reminded, but he found himself thinking back anyway, found himself unable to stop…
The first memory he saw was their wedding. God, their wedding… That seemed like so long ago to him, but really, what was time?
They had taken their marriage vows with the strength of two who wished to be together forever, or at least thought they did. When they had kissed, it had been passionate, not simply for display.
Everyone had been there, it had seemed, even the Professor. Hell, even Geoffrey had made it there with his wife, Mable. Friends and family had all congratulated them wildly, cheering them on and wishing them the best of luck.
And when they had said 'I love you,' they had both meant it with a passion that ran deep and true… for a while.
Giovanni felt tears begin to sting at the edges of his eyes and felt a slight amount of disgust that was pushed away by another memory. The reception.
It had gone excellently. Everyone present had been able to have a good time somehow or other, whether it was off the alcohol or just from the atmosphere. There had been much hope, many promises, and many dreams.
He remembered the courtyard alongside the river where they had held the party. The lush green grass had seemed to gleam under the dew from the river. Flowers grew in bunches across the yard in a variety of gleaming colors, while bees flew around lazily from one to the next.
The river itself had been beautiful, flowing swiftly in the serene setting. They had chosen the sight because of it. Ashley had always loved rivers, had always said she thought they held some sort of majestic beauty…
And then there had been Ashley herself, with her own beauty. At that time she had been everything to him, had been his world. He had wanted no more than to be with her for the rest of his life, and for them to hold their love true.
God, it hurt him to think about her again. Hurt to think about their love, and how he had wanted it to stay true… Because in the end, it was he who had broken it.
Another time was floating in, one he knew he didn't want to see and knew that, as before, he couldn't possibly resist. As it came on, he shuddered involuntarily, not noticing the look Geoffrey gave him when he did so.
It had been a night during the time he was learning what Maria would tell them, finding everything he could about being the leader of the organization. At that time he and Ashley were raising two children, Ginger, who had only been around six years of age, and Ash, who was less than five years old.
He had been neglecting his family for the most part, taking time for the business. Even though Ashley had discussed it with him, he hadn't seen what she did coming, hadn't seen it at all.
That night, he remembered too well, had been cloudy, with raging gusts of wind, the perfect night for disaster to strike. He had been coming home from a day of work, had walked in the door preoccupied as always.
As first he hadn't noticed anything different, had simply walked into the kitchen to get something to drink. When he was taking a glass down, however, he realized that the house had been quieter than usual.
That was when he had found that Ashley wasn't in the house. He had looked around for her, had looked for Ash, too. Because his son was gone, gone wherever his wife had left to.
There had been a note on the kitchen table from Ashley, written in her beautiful, dancing script. "Gio, I don't want to do this, but I have to. I've been trying to tell you. Take care of yourself and Ginger. I couldn't take her. Maybe we shall meet again someday. Farewell, my love."
That was all, no more. A short, simple note, and one night. It was only later, when he was sitting on a couch looking at a stack of papers, that the reality had hit him with full force. It was than that he realized he was alone with his daughter, and that his wife had left and taken his son.
It was than that he realized that Ashley had left him.
Giovanni had to bite his lip to keep from moaning out loud. The memory hurt him bad. He hadn't seen it coming… That was one of the worst parts. He had ignored all the discussions she had with him, had gone on working in crime…
She had seen the danger; she had begged him to stop. When he hadn't, she'd left him, realizing it was safer.
Why hadn't he listened?
He knew. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he knew. It was the business. The whole deal with being the boss had gotten him wrapped up, had made him work towards goals instead of listening to his family. At the time, business had been the most important thing to him.
"How could I have been so deluded…?" he thought miserably. Because after that he had only seen her once, a few years later, and that had been short. That hadn't even been worth speaking of. A simple coincidence of same time, same place, and Ashley had nearly bolted away from him.
"Best to stray from these thoughts," his mind warned, and he sighed. Of course it was better. There were other things to think about, things that were less painful…
Like why Geoffrey was doing what he was doing.
He had closed that matter once, but Giovanni determined that, in order to keep himself from slipping again, that he'd reopen it.
"Geoff, you didn't give me a good answer. Why are you doing this?"
He hoped his brother would give him a real answer.
Geoffrey considered the question. His last answer hadn't been good enough, he knew that himself. He didn't want to say, didn't want to think about anything, but apparently Giovanni wouldn't stop asking if he didn't.
Anyway, they were almost at their destination. There wasn't much for him to lose.
"First off, I'm doing this for Mable. She would've wanted me to," he spoke as if it were matter-of-fact, and saw, from the corner of his eye, that Giovanni seemed to understand well.
"Of course he does," Geoffrey thought. "He must, what with Ashley…"
There wasn't time for that sort of thing, though, and he knew it. "Second, I'm doing it because there's nothing else for me to do."
"Nothing?" Giovanni sounded slightly annoyed, and Geoffrey predicted what he would say next.
"Nothing," he confirmed.
"What about the agency?" Giovanni sounded slightly confused, but Geoffrey nearly smiled despite how he felt. He had been right about what would be said.
"I was fired," he replied simply.
He saw the look of immediate understanding on his brother's face, and listened as he spoke again. "They fired you because you were a witness for me…" Giovanni spoke slowly. "I just… God, Geoffrey."
"It doesn't matter," Geoffrey sighed. "Nothing does… not anymore."
He knew Giovanni was looking at him strangely, but chose to ignore it. "What are you going to do?"
That was the question he had expected. It was business-like, in a way. "Whatever I come upon."
That seemed a satisfactory answer, and Giovanni looked as though he would be quiet. It was too late for that, though. Geoffrey pulled the car over, next to the curb. "We're here."
"Where exactly is 'here'?" Giovanni's voice held a strong level of suspicion.
"Just get out," Geoffrey opened his door and stepped out into the cool air and onto the sidewalk. On the other side, he saw Giovanni get out, than walk over.
"So, where are we going?"
"That house," Geoffrey pointed to the one in front of them. They were on the edge of town, at a two-story house with a garden beside it. The lights inside were all turned off, and Geoffrey hoped the inhabitant of the house was simply asleep.
"Do you know this person?" Giovanni asked cautiously as they walked up the short line of tiles to the door.
"We both do," Geoffrey stepped onto the porch, followed by Giovanni, and knocked on the door.
"Sorry to bother you, Miss," he had raised his voice enough so that someone inside could hear him, but not so much that anyone else would wake up.
A light upstairs flicked on rapidly, and Geoffrey nodded. "Now we wait for her to come down."
Ashley bolted up quickly, aroused by the knocking on the door and the loud voice. She had been sleeping lightly, unable to sleep any more deeply. After what had happened with the Rockets, and what she had seen on television…
As much as she had thought she hated Giovanni at times, she knew she wanted him back. It was lonely in the house by herself, with Ash out on his journey. She missed how it was…
The voice called her name again, and she thought she recognized it. It was someone she knew, that much she was sure of.
Jumping out of bed, she hurriedly pulled a change of clothes out of the drawers on the right side of her room. Anyone coming out to the house in the middle of the night had to be there for a good reason, and probably would stay for awhile or tell her she was needed somewhere.
She hoped Ash wasn't hurt. The thought that he was, or that he had gotten into trouble, crossed her mind, but she whisked it away uneasily as she slipped on a skirt and blouse.
"Probably just a problem with the neighbors," she thought. "That would explain why I think I know the voice."
Opening the door to her bedroom, she walked down the empty hall quickly, nearly gliding over the carpets. As she reached the door, she heard the man outside speak to someone else, telling whoever it was to be patient.
So there were two… Part of her mind went off in alarm, telling her it was danger, but she decided against it. "Anyway," she thought with a shudder, "If they want something, they'll break in here anyway."
Reaching for the knob, she unlocked the door and opened it slowly, than looked out onto the porch. The man standing in the light looked tired, ready to drop down somewhere. "Oh my God…" she realized she did know who it was. "Geoffrey?" It was her brother-in-law.
"Hello Ashley, we've come to pay you a visit," Geoffrey's voice was calm, and she felt a strange twinge inside of her.
"We? Who…"
Geoffrey stepped aside, and the other man stepped forward. When she saw who it was, she nearly fainted. So did the man, in fact.
Standing outside her door was her husband, Giovanni.
Chapter 23
"So tell me… why didn't we follow Dan and Ginger?" Mike's voice sounded irritated to Matt, and he supposed it was. It certainly didn't surprise him. What had surprised him was that Mike hadn't gone, that he had actually stayed.
The only answer that occurred to him was instinct, plain and simple. He'd talked to Mike before and found he was a guy who didn't rely much on thinking ahead. Yes, instinct seemed like the correct answer… not that it really mattered.
"We need to think this out, decide what to do before we start in on it," Matt explained, feeling as though it were unnecessary.
Shadow nodded agreeably. "I wanted to leave but… I felt that it wouldn't do us any good. I mean... to go out there without knowing what we were doing? It seemed… I don't know, sort of foolish, I guess," she shrugged, having made her point.
For what she had said, Matt felt his respect for her growing. She wasn't led away by her anger… God, that just reminded him of someone who was, someone he wished wasn't.
He realized that both were waiting for him. Taking a deep breath, he let himself talk, not exactly sure of what he'd say but confident he'd find out. "You both saw what Felicity did up there."
They nodded, and Mike commented, "How could we miss it?" Yet again, his tone suggested a weak attempt at a joke.
"Before this happened did you…" he paused for a moment, putting together the right words. "Did you ever think she would do something like this?"
"No," Shadow shook her head. Mike agreed with her, and she added, "Except… except maybe to someone for her job. But this is different!" Her voice had taken on a slightly higher, more distressed tone, and Mike looked at her with a sort of comfort in his eyes.
Understanding where she was coming from, Matt nodded solemnly. He'd seen Felicity before, seen how she'd retained herself… The only difference was, he had known something about her. Something that had been known when she was hired. Something she had promised was done with.
He had doubted that, doubted it deeply. Hell, he'd even gone so far as to tell Giovanni about it, though it hadn't done any good. As he'd said, if there was trouble, someone would see it. There had been a lot of people in the organization, after all.
Besides, he figured that they had taken precautions. No one had said anything to him, but he had suspected someone was giving her some sort of drug… The Rockets did plenty of that, after all. What would stop them? Who would stop them?
So without the drugs, the sort of disease had been replenished. Without the team, no one had spotted it in time. The result was that she had killed.
And that was only the beginning.
He knew what would come next, what would happen. He knew all too well for his own liking, and wanted to forget, but couldn't.
"Matt?" Mike's questioning voice cut through his thoughts. "Did you?"
Of course he had asked that question. Matt had expected it. He had hoped for it, too, because it was a good enough way to tell it. "Yes. In fact, I knew she could do it."
Shadow and Mike looked at him swiftly, their eyes locking with his. "You did?" they asked in unison, without noticing.
He nodded slowly, sighed, took another breath, and spoke again. "Yes. When Felicity was hired, I got a look at her records. You know, criminal, physical…" he held the sentence for a moment before finishing it. "…Medical."
For a moment his gaze shifted to the doorway, than back to the two who were staring at him attentively. "Her medical records revealed that she suffered from a streak of mental illness. It didn't seem too terrible at first until I saw what sort of streak it was. Murderous. Even that in itself would have meant little to me had I not previously researched the topic. I had, and knew what it meant. I knew it could mean all hell for the team.
"That certain streak of insanity is unstoppable once it starts, and is one of complete confusion. The afflicted finds themselves with a need to kill, even a DESIRE to kill. They will find anyone a good victim, though their anger is usually targeted. In most cases it has to do with something recent, something they experienced only a short while ago. His or her main 'targets' are, on most occasions, anyone who was part of the event.
"Apparently, Felicity promised that she had herself under control, that she would pose no direct threat. Giovanni doubted that, so he had her take drugs to control the illness. At least, that's what I figured. When I heard of her condition, it began to nag at my mind, constantly telling me something would go wrong, and it would blow up in our faces.
"So I went to see Giovanni. I told him what I believed, what I knew could happen, and he said he knew. I was shocked, but he said there was something I didn't know, something on our side. Apparently, when a person begins to fall into insanity, the disease begins to show through in the early stages, and can be caught. He figured that there were enough people around to spot anything. I told him it was a risk, he told me she would be a good agent.
"And she was, I myself have seen her work, and now we've seen it on Trae. While working for the Rockets, she remained under control. The control was the key. As long as she was stable, we were fine. Still, I worried about what could happen, what my mind still told me would undoubtedly happen.
"So than the organization broke up, and she came to live here with you guys. It was fine at first, but than she began to sink. There were no drugs to keep her off the edge, nothing to keep her from passing the border. And no one knew to look for signs, to see anything strange. So she fell slowly, nearing that point of insanity, watching it grow closer and closer until finally, tonight, she hit it."
Matt fell silent and he looked at Shadow, whose eyes had doubled in size, and Mike, who was leaning so far forward he was barely sitting on the couch at all. In the back of his mind, Matt thought it was a wonder he hadn't fallen onto the floor yet.
Finally, Shadow managed to speak, though her voice sounded dry. "Oh God… How dangerous is she?" There was an unbridled terror rising in her voice, and he realized she was thinking of Dan.
"Very. Think an enraged alligator and multiply the damage by ten," he didn't want to get her hopes down, but was forward with the information anyway. "This woman is missing a few screws."
"A few?" Mike's voice sounded half-upset and half-amused. "Try a whole bucket full!"
"Ehhh… sure," Matt looked at him strangely. "Call it what you like, but she IS dangerous."
"Than we've got to get out there!" Shadow was standing in a second, turning towards the door.
"Wait," Matt rose, and Mike reached out for Shadow's shoulder as he too stood up. "Do you have a weapon?"
Shadow looked at him for a moment, than shook her head. "No…"
"You might want one," Matt's voice was colder than he had intended it to be, but he didn't care. He walked towards the door and pulled it open, stepping out. "Come out here."
As if frozen, Shadow just stood in the doorway. Mike grabbed her hand and she blinked, than shook her head. "I… I almost went out after her unarmed…"
"It's okay," Mike led her out the door and closed it behind him. Shadow felt grateful that he had gotten control of her; she hadn't felt she could do it herself. "You were worried."
"I let it get to me," her voice shook slightly, both with anger and a shaking fear. "I shouldn't have…"
"Don't say that," Mike shook his head sadly, than walked with her over to the driveway, where Matt was rummaging through a bag in the back seat of his car.
Shadow felt tired suddenly, it hit her at an amazingly unexpected speed. "No, don't…" she told herself. "Not now…"
She couldn't, not when Dan needed her. In her heart she feared for him, for what Felicity could do. Now that she knew what was plaguing the woman's mind, she felt even worse. It hurt her to think of what could happen. Hurt her badly, even more than it had hurt to see Trae's bloody carcass.
In her mind, she was glad she hadn't run off. Now she had an advantage over Felicity… She knew something about her. Or at least she hoped it was an advantage. And she would have a gun.
A gun. Did Dan have a gun? Her mind searched frantically for a pathway that led to a positive answer, but couldn't find one. Dan had never carried a gun in his life, why would he have had one? And Ginger… she had her knife. That was all.
A knife against a revolver. Shadow shuddered openly at this, and she accepted the words of comfort from Mike readily. "It's okay…" he reassured. Simple words, but helpful.
Matt turned towards them, holding out two handguns. "Take them," he motioned, and Shadow and Mike each grabbed one.
At the feel of the cold metal in her hand, Shadow felt herself tighten. She was holding a murder weapon, holding something dangerous. Yes, she had held a gun before, but never felt anything like that. Never felt that sudden wave of… of murder.
She hated it, hated it because of what she had seen. Yet at the same time, she found herself liking it. Liking it because of what it could do to Felicity.
"Let's go," Matt motioned towards the sidewalk, and Shadow felt another sort of fear inside.
"How do we know where they went?"
"We follow the trail," he replied. When she looked at him quizzically, he added, "Believe me, it won't be difficult."
Shadow wasn't sure she wanted to know what he meant by that.
Chapter 24
Felicity's pace was leisurely, as if she was taking a simple walk in the park. That is, it was leisurely until she reached the main portion of town, where the roads ran closer and the cars flew by more often. There she quickened her pace slightly, taking it up a few notches.
Mainly, this was for precaution. She didn't want them to catch up with her until she was good and ready, waiting for them, in fact. She wanted to be the one laughing while the other side failed miserably.
The other reason was the car. She had seen Matt's Prix, and didn't know if he'd be driving it. If he was, she didn't want to be anywhere near. Despite the voices of logic in the back of her mind, she didn't think he'd catch her if she walked fast enough. Luckily for her, Matt hadn't taken the car.
She strode down the sidewalk, a woman losing the last of her sanity quickly, a woman who was set to kill. Her mind wasn't totally gone, however, and she managed to disguise her insanity only by making herself appear to be in a hurry to get somewhere.
Where someone would be going that late at night in such a hurry, she couldn't imagine. It seemed to work, though. Anyone she saw simply glanced at her, than looked away in the trivial act of glancing around.
Felicity's spirits were high, and she took in the cool night air gladly. Killing Trae had been easy, she had found. All she'd done was sneak in and attack. Sneak in and murder the girl.
Murder. She tried to find a sort of pity inside for what she'd done. It wasn't unheard of to feel. In fact, she'd heard that nearly everyone felt pity, guilt, or some other depressing emotion.
Without surprise, she realized that she felt one. Never had, and probably never would. She'd killed before, never Rockets, but what was the difference in the insanity of the world? Or her mind?
Yes, Felicity was vaguely aware of what was happening to her. She could feel her sanity breaking apart, slowly crumbling beneath itself. She had known the feeling before, though almost never at that intensity.
The last time she had felt it was just before she had joined the Rockets. She had almost broken down completely, and had been saved only by being hit by a car. The shock had caused her mind to start working again, to let her regain her old self.
Than, when she had joined the criminal organization, she had been given special drugs to keep her mind from flying out of whack, to keep her chemicals balanced perfectly. They had worked, too, and for a while she had been happy.
Of course, once the team had fallen apart, it had been 'goodbye!' to the drugs, and 'hey there!' to her old friend madness.
It had never bothered her that she was inflicted with mental illness. She took it as normally as she took breathing, and had accepted it easily. Inside, she had known it meant terrible things, known it from the moment that doctor had told her she was unstable…
That had been a while ago, when she was younger, somewhere around eleven years old. Her parents had been concerned about her for the first time in her life. Looking back on it, she figured they had been more worried about their status than her own welfare. God forbid they have a crazy kid in the house.
They'd taken her to a shrink, an asshole who'd thought he was funnier than hell and made far too many tasteless jokes for her liking. They'd talked for a long time, him asking questions, her answering. She remembered feeling as though she were in an interrogation.
After that there had been other sessions. Her parents hadn't liked it, had never liked being obligated to do anything for her, but had taken her there once every week for three months. At the end of that time, the shrink had called her parents into the room and began his final meeting with them, not even bothering to ask Felicity to leave the room. Apparently, she had become unimportant once more.
What he had told her parents was, simply, that they had a daughter with a problem of instability, one that had the potential to reach extreme conditions. Her mother had cried, saying their life was ruined, and her father had asked if they could lock the girl up. Felicity remembered this indifferently, feeling nothing at all.
In the end, they had given her drugs. She suspected they were the same ones the Rockets had later given her. With all the drugs she had had, she was surprised she had become addicted.
Than, when she had fled from her parents, the disorders had begun. She would sink down to the depths, beginning the process of falling off, than climb back on by some sort of twisted fate. That was how it had been for a long time, it seemed, as long as she had been on her own.
Now the insanity was back, plaguing her internally. She had felt its oncoming, had known she would fall if nothing caught her. She was pretty sure nothing was going to catch her.
She knew what would happen if she wasn't stopped. Eventually, she'd kill herself. In the blind madness, she'd simply slit her throat or shoot herself. Before she did that, Felicity wanted to take a few people out.
That, too, was the madness, wanting to kill for no real reason. Again, she felt nothing, didn't care. Because she accepted it, had accepted it ever since that day in the shrink's office where her father had wanted to put her away.
It was the madness that had caused her indifference, the madness that had turned her towards the path she had taken. The path of hatred, the path of danger, the path of death.
She knew this, too. Yet again, she didn't care. Nothing mattered to her. Well, nothing except her goal of murder.
With a bit of startled recognition, Felicity found herself at the edge of the inner city, and was slammed back into reality. She slowed her pace slightly, hoping she hadn't traveled too fast for someone to catch up with her.
"Because it'd be a pity if they were too slow to catch their own death," she laughed coldly at that, than froze immediately at the sound of footsteps behind her.
Whirling around, she found herself looking into the face of a drunk looking young man with bloodshot eyes and a pale complexion. "What did that mean?" he asked. He may have looked drunk, but he didn't sound like he had had anything.
Felicity's mind immediately sparked, and she found something in it she couldn't name. It was relief. Relief that she hadn't completely lost it yet.
So he had heard her… Immediately, her own suspicions were aroused. Did the man know what she meant? Her first instinct was to kill, her second was to ask questions. She decided to go with the second first. After all, killing could come after questions.
"I've got a few questions I'd like to ask you," she looked at him gravely.
He looked confused for a moment, than shrugged indifferently. "Shoot."
Felicity's face twisted in puzzlement for a moment, than brightened, and she nodded. "Well, I was going to wait, but if you insist…"
Quickly, she pulled the revolver out of its holster, shoving back the hammer and pulling the trigger as soon as it her arm was raised at the level of his forehead. His eyes widened momentarily before clouding over as his chest disappeared in a red cloud of death.
His body tumbled to the ground with a thick tearing sound as it nearly tore in half. Unfazed, she shoved the revolver back into the holster, looking down at him, once again feeling nothing. Blood rolled over his crushed ribcage in torrents, and small pieces of innards lay around him in mashed-up piles.
Shaking her head, she laughed quietly, than continued down the sidewalk, stepping over the sprawled carcass. Soon enough, someone would find it. Than they'd know where she'd gone.
Up ahead, she saw the path that opened into the forest and smiled with an unearthly sadistic sort of coldness. That was where she wanted to go. She wanted them to meet their end over there.
Chapter 25
It took Geoffrey only a few moments to realize that he'd have to be the one to take action. Neither of the others would move, they were in shock. He didn't blame them, either. Not in the least. Still, they couldn't stand on the porch all night.
"Could we come in?" he raised an eyebrow, motioning to the door.
Ashley nodded slowly, stepping aside as though in a dream. She probably felt like it, too. He hadn't been sure how she'd react, but this had been one action he'd foreseen. Looking back at his brother he nodded towards the doorway. No movement.
Shrugging, he walked inside and stood behind the doorway. "Hello, Ashley," he held out his hand.
She raised her green eyes, and he wasn't surprised to observe a film of tears lining the bottom oh her eyes. "Hi," she whispered, shaking the hand, than immediately turned her attention back to the doorway.
"Are you coming?" he directed the question at Giovanni, who nodded slowly and walked in, never taking his eyes off of Ashley.
Geoffrey waited another moment before shutting the door quietly and turning back to the two. They were both staring at each other, their gazes mixtures of sadness, hate, and love. He almost didn't want to stop it, but knew he had to.
"Are you two going to stand here all night?"
Ashley's voice came out choked, "We can go in the living room…" and then, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe it." With that, she headed towards the next room.
Giovanni, who hadn't spoken a word yet, simply followed as she led them in. He sat in an armchair, and she sat on a couch across from him. Geoffrey stood, feeling that it'd be better if he left them alone.
"So, are you two going to be able to talk at all?" he asked, not quite sure if they would.
"Yes, I think so," it was the woman who spoke again. Than, out of what Geoffrey was sure was her every-day hospitality, "Do you want something to drink?"
He immediately wished she hadn't asked him… or at least hadn't put the question in that particular format. At that moment he wanted more than one drink, and he wanted the sort that would help him forget for a night. He'd been trying to keep it off his mind, and had been able for some time. Now that she mentioned it, however, he felt his throat become dry and his eyes burn.
What he wanted was what he didn't want, in short. He didn't want to become entangled in the web of drinking, but it seemed too late already. Apparently, the wonderful Professor had been a proficient drinker for quite some time. Apparently, he had inherited that excellent quality.
Ashley must have seen that something was wrong, because her eyes showed a sort of concern for him. "You can make a pot of coffee."
"I think I will," he turned towards the kitchen, shaking his head.
Judging by the look in her eyes, the tone of voice, the suggestion, she had known. Somehow, she knew. She was one that would always know if someone was up to something, or attached to something. At least she hadn't come right out and said it.
The kitchen was clean, sparkling clean almost, and he found himself wondering what in the hell the woman did all day besides clean house. From what he knew, her son was off on some adventure or other, and the others in her family were gone…
In a flash, he knew that she was lonely, just as he was. He realized that she had been lonely for a long time, and that she had found a way to manage it. The thought that she had experimented with alcohol, maybe even something stronger, crossed his mind, though he couldn't see her doing it. Still, life was strange. Very strange.
He picked up a bag of coffee grounds that were leaning against a coffee machine. Hazelnut… and it certainly smelled like it. It wasn't what he wanted, was in fact, the opposite, but it would do.
As he poured the grounds into the pot, he realized that he hadn't heard their voices yet. So they still hadn't spoken… He knew they'd get around to it at some time, but didn't know when. They were acting like children, in his opinion, but he said nothing. Instead, he poured the water in, than turned the machine on.
The second he turned away, there came a knock on the door. "Ashley?" a voice, muffled by the door, inquired.
After a quick look at the living room, Geoffrey realized that, once again, he was going to have to do something about it. He walked over to the door, wondering who else could possibly stop by the house at that time of night. It seemed strange, very strange.
"Maybe it's her father, fresh outta the Cinnabar Maximum Security," he though humorlessly, and pulled open the door. The man he saw outside wasn't Ashley's father, and he immediately wished it were.
On the porch stood a man at least half a foot shorted than Geoffrey, and about twenty years older. His drastically thinning, light-brown, almost white, hair hung sloppily over his bushy eyebrows, and his eyes looked tired. He was dressed in khaki pants that were slightly too large for him, and a deep red shirt. When he spoke again, it was with a slight accent, and before he looked up. "I'm sorry to bother you this late at night, but I was wondering if you had an edition of…"
Geoffrey's eyes widened, and he felt his fists immediately clamp in upon themselves tightly. "You…" he snarled, trying to hold back, and at the same time almost wishing he wouldn't.
For a moment, there was confusion on the man's face, and then a look of understanding. "Geoffrey, what are you doing here?"
Behind him, he heard Giovanni's voice for the first time, sounding more than slightly ticked. "You know goddamn well."
Edward Oak looked at him, and an understanding filled his face. "No… this isn't right!"
"Neither are you," Geoffrey growled, grabbing the door handle in his right hand. "Goodnight."
"But…"
Geoffrey slammed the door, half-expecting it to open from the outside, and half-expecting on of the two in the other room to comment. Neither happened, however, and he walked slowly over to the coffeepot.
He couldn't believe that he'd seen that son-of-a-bitch again. He hadn't wanted to, hadn't wanted to see him ever again. And that look of understanding… what had that been?
Geoffrey didn't know, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.
Giovanni stared at his wife for the longest time, unable to speak. What could he say? Here was the woman he had loved, found he still did love. Here was the woman who had left him. Here was the woman he hadn't seen in at least ten years. What could he say?
The dilemma was what left him speechless, standing in front of her like a damned fool. She hadn't said much, either. Most had been to Geoffrey…
Geoffrey. Why had he even brought him there? How had he been able to do that? It was strange, something he never would've expected, and yet he was glad it had happened. Because he knew he wouldn't make it through the whole ordeal. Someone would find him, somehow, somewhere. If he was going to have to die, he didn't want to do it without saying something to her.
She was still looking at him, and he began to feel strangely uncomfortable. It was something he hadn't felt in a long time, and didn't want to be feeling. She was causing him to feel more uncomfortable than she did when he was facing his most murderous agents, or even that goddamn court.
Uncontrollably, he found himself growing angry with her. He didn't want to, but was anyway. How could she just sit there staring at him? How could she keep looking at him so accusingly, making him feel so guilty? She had been the one who walked out, after all. A door opened and shut, yet he didn't hear it.
Finally, when he thought he'd go insane, she spoke softly. "Why did you do it?"
It was a question full of a terribly hurt sincerity, and it somehow angered him that she had even asked. "You know goddamn well!" It was rougher than he had intended, which set him off even further. Why couldn't he control himself?
"No…" she shook her head calmly, not helping his anger at all. "I don't know. That's why I asked the question." Simply staring at him, she was keeping herself better than he, and he knew it.
How could she remain so calm, so levelheaded? He felt his whole mind in turmoil, felt it rushing with everything that had happened in the last few days. He didn't know how much he could stand, thought he would lose it, and here she was, calmly asking question like an interrogator.
It was maddening, that's what it was. "Because I felt like it. How the hell should I know? It was ten years ago!" He hadn't meant to yell, but there it was. The door slammed in the kitchen, but registered no importance to him.
Looking slightly upset, but he guessed, not because of the level of his voice, she sighed. "We won't get anywhere by fighting."
She was right, and he knew that too. So why couldn't he control what he said, how he acted? There was a small itching in the back of his mind, one he had pushed away, but what if it were true? What if Ashley just wanted to talk?
"Jackass," the voice in his mind spat. "Of course she just wants to talk it out! What do you think she's been trying to do?"
He hated the sound of that voice, and was annoyed that it, too, was correct. His anger at himself increased, until Ashley spoke again. "Don't let it kill you, Giovanni. If it hurts too much, don't talk about it."
There was real concern in her eyes, and it finally broke his uncertainty. Of course he knew why he had done it. "I did it because she wanted me too… Maria."
"Your mother?" she looked at him levelly. "Is that all?"
There was no use lying, and he knew it. "No," he shook his head heavily. "There was the money, I suppose, although it never has held as much for me as the work. The power was what did it, the power was what I wanted."
He hadn't told anyone that before. The fact that no one had known just why he'd taken the job was fine with him. And he had enjoyed the power. "They all listened to me… Every one of them. Their attention was on me. If I said 'shoot someone' they damn well had better have, because they knew the consequences. The rules were hard, the punishment was harder."
Her eyes never left his during all of this. "You… killed people."
He nodded, contemplating his response. Of course he had, they'd had it coming. "They were the ones who deserved it. They were the one who were against us, and would've killed us."
"But they were still living people!" the slight raise in her voice startled him momentarily, but he found himself, thankfully, remaining calm again. It seemed that she was the one growing anxious now.
He knew the mentality of most people, and figured that it was the 'correct' way of thinking. Killing was wrong. He'd heard it everywhere, but never been taught it. No one had ever come out and told him it wasn't right, or justifiable, so he didn't feel that way. To him, killing was natural. It was derived of an emotion, one he often found himself with plenty of, and used on those who were stupid or unlucky enough to get in the way. Sort of like natural selection. The rules of society held no impact on his beliefs, and never had.
"They deserved to have it done," he shrugged.
"How could you?" her voice wavered.
"It was what I learned," his eyes caught hers, and immediately he was sorry the subject had even been brought up. She looked so hurt… How could she? Was it his fault?
Of course it was. He'd been the one to finish it off, after all. He'd been doing it without thinking, and now he wish he had stopped himself. Because now she was there, and she was upset. He didn't want to see her that way, wanted her to be happy.
Without thinking of what he was doing, without realizing he was even doing it, Giovanni stood up and walked the two steps over to the couch to stand beside Ashley. She didn't look up at him, and strands of her auburn hair hung in front of her eyes. He loved her, and he knew it.
Sitting down beside her, he gently brushed a strand of the hair away from her left eye, and looked at her. "Ashley, I'm sorry. No one ever told me the difference between 'right' and 'wrong'. I should've known, should've felt it but I must admit… I did enjoy what I did."
"I know," she nodded slowly, still gazing at the floor.
He tried a different approach. "I've missed you…" she didn't reply, and he continued. "I don't know if you'll believe me, Ashley, but I've missed you horribly, wanted you beside me. Do you know how much it hurt to be alone? To have no one? I lived in a darkness, and in darkness there is only solitude. I've wanted to see you again, have torn myself apart for having done what I did, for having let you leave, for being foolish enough to be unable to realize that you were gong to go.
"Every morning, I found myself alone and hated myself for going wrong. Every day, I wanted to give it all up and find you. I'm not sure why I didn't… It was all one big rush. I didn't want you to go, because… I love you. I honestly do love you."
Finally, she raised her head, looking at him with a sort of understanding. "Oh…" her green eyes glittered, and he could see the rims lined with water. "I love you too."
At that moment, forgetting everything else, Giovanni embraced his wife for the first time in over ten years. He felt his mind clear, felt his problems melt away momentarily. He loved her, and he'd been waiting for this. For the moment, all was well.