Fic: I'll be the one (5/7)
Title: I'll be the one
Fandom: Murder Call
Characters: Tessa Vance, Steve Hayden, Original character
Prompt: 011. Red
Word Count: 1027
Rating: G (K)
Summary: Somehow, they always wound up in these situations, and every instinct in him was telling him it was a terrible idea to split up. Just look at their track record. [A series of ficlets set after "Aftermath". Based on the Deadline/Suspect novel by Jennifer Rowe.]
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. They belong to Jennifer Rowe, Hal McElroy and Southern Star. I make no profit out of this.
I'LL BE THE ONE
PART FIVE
Set a month after Part 4.
“We better split up.”
Although Tessa’s voice was hushed, it echoed in the ruins of the cathedral-size factory. Her eyes were wide, her shoulders hunched, every little expressive detail screaming tension and adrenaline.
Steve cursed inwardly. Somehow, they always wound up in these situations, and every instinct in him was telling him it was a terrible idea to split up. Just look at their track record.
But it was a tactical decision and a sound one. Back-up was eight minutes out, but this place was too large to cover in time to avoid their merchant taking off, and he’d escaped them too many times already. Besides, they were wearing bulletproof vests and Tessa had done more shooting practice over the past years; he’d made her so she’d feel more comfortable with it.
“Okay.”
He’d hardly said the word before Tessa took off down one end of the factory ground floor, forcing him to take the other. Raising his gun up, Steve narrowed his focus to what was right in front of him, ears perched for any hint of sound, head on a swivel, checking corners and reflections in glass, mirrors and metals.
All thoughts were gone, irrelevant to the situation. He forgot about time as his feet carried him across the room, glancing sideways only now and then to see if he’d catch sight of his partner. He didn’t, and the tension rose in him despite his precarious control.
“Police, stop!” Tessa’s voice suddenly rang out across the room, ricocheting off rusty shelves, barrels and leftover machinery. “Kilgrave!”
Steve burst into a run, making a beeline for her most likely location but still making sure to check his corners, follow procedure.
“Stop!” Tessa yelled again, closer this time, and Steve could hear clanging and wrangling as someone bustled about somewhere cluttered. “Put down the gun!”
That word. It was enough to make him run past his limits, push his muscles to the brink of what they could handle, his heart hammering in his chest when he caught sight of blonde hair beyond dirty glass, a shadow beyond her.
“Put it down, Kilgrave!” Tessa yelled again, louder still, with a touch of edginess. Steve recognised it, knew things were escalating, ran even harder with his gun still drawn. “Put it do-“
Bang! Bang!
Bang! Bang!
Four intermingling shots. Just as Steve rounded the corner, he saw Tessa on one side, twisting backwards with a grimace, and their killer on the other, still with his gun drawn on her even as blood blossomed on the front of his blue shirt. Kilgrave grimaced and barred his teeth, tightening his hold on the gun, correcting it to adjust for Tessa’s motion…
“NO!” Steve didn’t think. He drew his gun to eye level, squeezed the trigger once, hit Kilgrave in his leg, saw the stunned expression on his face as he collapsed to his knees. Barrelling forwards, Steve kicked the gun out of the man’s hands and pushed him down to the ground, pointing his gun in his face. “Don’t move! Don’t move!”
He didn’t. Kilgrave was too busy grimacing in pain, spitting and hissing, nothing but bile and curses coming past his lips, none of which Steve cared to focus on.
Instead, Steve quickly assessed the man’s injuries, glanced back at Tessa to see her still on her feet, ambling towards them with her gun raised in silent acknowledgment that she covered him, and Steve put his gun back in his holster. Then he pushed down hard at the gunshot wounds to Kilgrave’s stomach, not about to let him get the easy way out of this. Not when he’d killed three women.
“You okay?” Steve called over his shoulder, still hyped, still hyperaware of every little motion their merchant made beneath him; ready to act if he got any silly ideas about doing something stupid.
“Yeah. I’m fine. I can hear the sirens,” Tessa said, wheezing somewhat heavily, as if she’d been hit by a tonne of bricks. Probably took a shot or two to the bulletproof vest.
She entered the periphery of his vision and Steve took a moment to glance up. A roar of anger rose up when he saw she was clutching a neck wound, blood spilling past her fingers, her face pale.
He lost control.
“Fuck! How serious is it?” Steve was half ready to abandon their merchant and storm over to her, thoughts raging around how she might be covering a fatal injury and only shock and adrenaline was keeping her on her feet.
“Just a graze. I’m fine,” Tessa said sharply, and in that affronted tone as if his worry was stupid, unwarranted and unwanted. She even rolled her eyes. Rolled her eyes!
After all the frustration of the past few weeks, Steve’s hands clenched, his teeth gritted, and every instinct was screaming at him that this wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place. Didn’t help that Kilgrave suddenly started laughing in wild, hysterical abandon, looking at him as if he knew exactly was going on in his head.
“Shut up!” Steve snapped, pushing a little extra hard on the man’s wound, silencing him momentarily. “And lie still.”
Tessa holstered her gun and kneeled down to handcuff one of Kilgrave’s hands to a nearby pipe, her voice hoarse and terse as if she knew what was going on in his head as well. “I’ll radio in for an ambulance and go meet the cavalry.”
That was all she said before leaving Steve alone with their merchant, and Steve had to clench his teeth tightly together to avoid saying something stupid. Kilgrave was staring at him again, grinning wickedly, his chest heaving for breath.
“So damn hard with those women, eh?”
Steve’s only response was to press down harder on the wounds.
Beneath his skin, though, he could feel the storm brewing. And later, when he spotted Tessa being checked out by the paramedics in the back of an ambulance, he knew it couldn’t be held back much longer.
Not when the paramedic in question was the guy who’d chatted up Tessa in a bar a month ago…and she was still giving him those damn smiles.
PART FOUR
PART SIX
Fandom: Murder Call
Characters: Tessa Vance, Steve Hayden, Original character
Prompt: 011. Red
Word Count: 1027
Rating: G (K)
Summary: Somehow, they always wound up in these situations, and every instinct in him was telling him it was a terrible idea to split up. Just look at their track record. [A series of ficlets set after "Aftermath". Based on the Deadline/Suspect novel by Jennifer Rowe.]
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. They belong to Jennifer Rowe, Hal McElroy and Southern Star. I make no profit out of this.
I'LL BE THE ONE
PART FIVE
Set a month after Part 4.
“We better split up.”
Although Tessa’s voice was hushed, it echoed in the ruins of the cathedral-size factory. Her eyes were wide, her shoulders hunched, every little expressive detail screaming tension and adrenaline.
Steve cursed inwardly. Somehow, they always wound up in these situations, and every instinct in him was telling him it was a terrible idea to split up. Just look at their track record.
But it was a tactical decision and a sound one. Back-up was eight minutes out, but this place was too large to cover in time to avoid their merchant taking off, and he’d escaped them too many times already. Besides, they were wearing bulletproof vests and Tessa had done more shooting practice over the past years; he’d made her so she’d feel more comfortable with it.
“Okay.”
He’d hardly said the word before Tessa took off down one end of the factory ground floor, forcing him to take the other. Raising his gun up, Steve narrowed his focus to what was right in front of him, ears perched for any hint of sound, head on a swivel, checking corners and reflections in glass, mirrors and metals.
All thoughts were gone, irrelevant to the situation. He forgot about time as his feet carried him across the room, glancing sideways only now and then to see if he’d catch sight of his partner. He didn’t, and the tension rose in him despite his precarious control.
“Police, stop!” Tessa’s voice suddenly rang out across the room, ricocheting off rusty shelves, barrels and leftover machinery. “Kilgrave!”
Steve burst into a run, making a beeline for her most likely location but still making sure to check his corners, follow procedure.
“Stop!” Tessa yelled again, closer this time, and Steve could hear clanging and wrangling as someone bustled about somewhere cluttered. “Put down the gun!”
That word. It was enough to make him run past his limits, push his muscles to the brink of what they could handle, his heart hammering in his chest when he caught sight of blonde hair beyond dirty glass, a shadow beyond her.
“Put it down, Kilgrave!” Tessa yelled again, louder still, with a touch of edginess. Steve recognised it, knew things were escalating, ran even harder with his gun still drawn. “Put it do-“
Bang! Bang!
Bang! Bang!
Four intermingling shots. Just as Steve rounded the corner, he saw Tessa on one side, twisting backwards with a grimace, and their killer on the other, still with his gun drawn on her even as blood blossomed on the front of his blue shirt. Kilgrave grimaced and barred his teeth, tightening his hold on the gun, correcting it to adjust for Tessa’s motion…
“NO!” Steve didn’t think. He drew his gun to eye level, squeezed the trigger once, hit Kilgrave in his leg, saw the stunned expression on his face as he collapsed to his knees. Barrelling forwards, Steve kicked the gun out of the man’s hands and pushed him down to the ground, pointing his gun in his face. “Don’t move! Don’t move!”
He didn’t. Kilgrave was too busy grimacing in pain, spitting and hissing, nothing but bile and curses coming past his lips, none of which Steve cared to focus on.
Instead, Steve quickly assessed the man’s injuries, glanced back at Tessa to see her still on her feet, ambling towards them with her gun raised in silent acknowledgment that she covered him, and Steve put his gun back in his holster. Then he pushed down hard at the gunshot wounds to Kilgrave’s stomach, not about to let him get the easy way out of this. Not when he’d killed three women.
“You okay?” Steve called over his shoulder, still hyped, still hyperaware of every little motion their merchant made beneath him; ready to act if he got any silly ideas about doing something stupid.
“Yeah. I’m fine. I can hear the sirens,” Tessa said, wheezing somewhat heavily, as if she’d been hit by a tonne of bricks. Probably took a shot or two to the bulletproof vest.
She entered the periphery of his vision and Steve took a moment to glance up. A roar of anger rose up when he saw she was clutching a neck wound, blood spilling past her fingers, her face pale.
He lost control.
“Fuck! How serious is it?” Steve was half ready to abandon their merchant and storm over to her, thoughts raging around how she might be covering a fatal injury and only shock and adrenaline was keeping her on her feet.
“Just a graze. I’m fine,” Tessa said sharply, and in that affronted tone as if his worry was stupid, unwarranted and unwanted. She even rolled her eyes. Rolled her eyes!
After all the frustration of the past few weeks, Steve’s hands clenched, his teeth gritted, and every instinct was screaming at him that this wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place. Didn’t help that Kilgrave suddenly started laughing in wild, hysterical abandon, looking at him as if he knew exactly was going on in his head.
“Shut up!” Steve snapped, pushing a little extra hard on the man’s wound, silencing him momentarily. “And lie still.”
Tessa holstered her gun and kneeled down to handcuff one of Kilgrave’s hands to a nearby pipe, her voice hoarse and terse as if she knew what was going on in his head as well. “I’ll radio in for an ambulance and go meet the cavalry.”
That was all she said before leaving Steve alone with their merchant, and Steve had to clench his teeth tightly together to avoid saying something stupid. Kilgrave was staring at him again, grinning wickedly, his chest heaving for breath.
“So damn hard with those women, eh?”
Steve’s only response was to press down harder on the wounds.
Beneath his skin, though, he could feel the storm brewing. And later, when he spotted Tessa being checked out by the paramedics in the back of an ambulance, he knew it couldn’t be held back much longer.
Not when the paramedic in question was the guy who’d chatted up Tessa in a bar a month ago…and she was still giving him those damn smiles.
PART FOUR
PART SIX