I bit my lip, shaking my head, "I didn't move quick enough. Halston had a gun to Claire's head and I couldn't." I shook my head harder, squeezing my eyes closed, "Halston had a two second trigger pull on the .45, it would have taken me three and half to get to her gun. I had to wait, I'm not fast enough yet...Claire had to suffer." I felt the hot tears rolling down my face.
Davey's hand fell to my shoulder, "How did Halston bite it?" I knew he was changing the subject. He knew I was right and wouldn't debate me for actions that were beyond my control.
I opened my eyes, wiping at my cheeks, "I'm not sure." I looked down at my stained, torn sweatshirt, "I felt the shot go through me."
"The only thing I could see through blurry eyes was the bullet going through your thigh and arm, the wounds healing like it was nothing."
Davey and I turned to the sound of Claire's weak voice coming from the door of the carriage house. She shuffled in, holding the Steelers blanket over her shoulders as she looked around the scene, her eyes settling on Halston. Claire looked light years better, just tired, but there was minimal sign of the hell and torture she had just endured.
I went to move towards her, "Claire, you should be resting. Davey and I can take care of this." My voice wavered, all I really wanted to do was scoop her in my arms and hold her. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from crying.
Claire held her hand up, "I will be fine, the serum has done most of the work." She took slow steps towards Halston, "It wasn't your fault, Kit. Never feel guilty for waiting. I could see your mind working at the distance, speed and how little time you had to get to Halston before she pulled the trigger." Claire tilted her head looking at the blood stains around Halston, "That's why I forced myself to wiggle away from her when she dug the blade in. To give you the extra time." Claire frowned as she rolled her once broken left arm, memories of how useless it had been sinking in with phantom pains. “I grabbed the .45 as you and Halston went at it again. I couldn't get a clear shot, both of you too tight against each other." Claire stopped to stand over the dead woman, "I knew the only way out was through." She glanced at me, "I shot through your chest, Kit, knowing your body would carry the bullet through and into Halston without decreasing too much of the velocity needed to bisect her aorta." She closed her eyes, "Killing her instantly."
Claire wobbled. I rushed to her side grabbing her and letting her lean into me. I wrapped my arms around her, feeling and hearing her heart beat like it was brand new.
I held her tightly, "It's over, Claire." I wanted to tell her I was sorry for taking too long and making it so she had to kill Halston. That I would forever feel guilty for putting her in this position.
I felt her arms slide slowly around me, pressing me closer, "Kit, the pink serum."
I nodded, leaning back to hold her face in my both of my hands, "I will fix the office later, but you were..." I licked my lips, looking down as I couldn't say the word dying.
Claire smiled weakly, "It’s okay, but we need to talk about that as well."
I looked in Claire's eyes, "I had to use it." I couldn't believe that I was about to get a lecture about using Claire's pink serum to save her when it was better I didn't, all in the name of science.
Claire laughed lightly, pressing her hands harder against my back, "I understand, and I am not mad." She held my eyes, her golden brown one full of life and sparkling through the strange sadness that hung in the air, "We have to be careful, because twenty three more times and I will become immortal."
I felt my mouth drop open, realizing that Claire was not at all kidding, "You don't mean?"
Claire nodded, "I do. That's why there is only one pink serum. A mistake I made while making the violet one. One that unlocked all of the other secrets I needed to make the others. I diluted the pink serum down to twenty five single doses. To be used sparingly and at extreme discretion. Every time I use one, I alter my DNA. Every dose elongates my strands, getting me closer to endless life."
I stared back at Claire, speechless as her words sunk in. Davey mumbling behind us, "Holy shit, you aren't kidding are you bits."
Claire looked over at him, "I'm not. It was why the CIA and everyone else wanted my work. Aside from the super soldier capability, they had heard rumors I was close to unlocking immortality, they just never knew I already had." She let out a breath, glancing back down at the body, "Can we get rid of the body now?"
Davey pushed off from the work bench, pulling out his phone, "I will get Jane out here with Vladimir. They are both very experienced with removal and clean up." He looked around the carriage house, "I can have this place looking like brand new by tomorrow morning."
Claire stepped back from my arms, finding my hand, lacing our fingers together, "Have them clear out the important things, then burn this goddamn thing to the ground. I will rebuild it." She turned to walk away, tugging me gently to follow her. I could feel something had shifted in Claire, even as she smiled at me, something had changed in her. She now had that faraway look of having taken someone's life out of revenge hidden under a veil of saving another.
I followed her out of the carriage house, wrapping my arm around hers and pulling her closer to me, I looked up at her. "Tomorrow, we start a new day and a new life. I promise."
Claire nodded slowly, "Yes, we will." In her strong, yet weak voice, was an unbending promise. Today was the end and tomorrow was the beginning.
The beginning we had been searching for since I sat on her couch a year, hung over and wondering what the hell I was getting myself into.
Chapter 35
When I was a child, I would get excited about things. Holidays, trips to the museum with my mother, spending saved up money on new books, and counting down the days until I graduated from University with the Dr. in front of my name. It was the anticipation of reaching a goal and breathing with ease when it was behind you.
Then came the lull of what to do next. Find the next waiting excitement to hold onto and get you through the boring days. It was that lull, that emptiness of being lost that I now felt sitting in the den. Still wrapped in Kit's blanket, staring at the fireplace as Davidek and her hushed around me. Making calls to arrange the cleanup.
I sat, staring at the wavering orange flickers of light. For fifteen years I had a shadow, a weight on my shoulders I ignored. A foreboding sense of anticipation that was Halston always one step ahead of me, next to me, or behind me. Now, with her finally silenced, the world felt so different. It all did the second Kit confirmed she was dead.
I knew the psychological impact of what happened in the carriage house on my mental state. There would be shock, PTSD, numbness, and strange guilt. Those were things I should be feeling, but all I felt was empty.
Empty in a good way and in a way that I knew in the morning I would be different. How different? I would have to wait and see to answer that question.
I sat in silence until I heard a loud creaking, cracking sound coming from the far corner of the back yard. I slowly stood from the couch and shuffled over to the window. I had been fighting my body's need to sleep and let the last few cycles of the serum take effect. I was afraid to fall asleep, knowing that there would be vivid dreams to come.
Pulling down the thick wooden slats of the blinds, I saw a handful of large men all with buzz cuts and square heads, circled around Jane. A couple of the men were walking from the carriage house, carrying out boxes and carrying in cleaning supplies. There was a large nondescript black van with its back doors wide open. A stretcher sat off to the side of the open doors, an empty black body bag sitting on the top of the white sheets. I locked on the black bag and clenched my jaw as emotions finally began to rise up.
"I laid out some clean clothes for you, Claire. Take a long, hot shower while I finish packing up the car."
I turned slowly to look at Kit. A stern yet caring look plastered on her face. She held up her hand, wiggling the fingers for me to come closer and take it. I gave her a small look, "Packing up the car?"
&nb
sp; Kit nodded, "We are going to my parents' house in Pittsburgh for a few days while Vladimir and Davey fix up things." Kit stumbled over the last few words, her face contorting as she struggled to find the words to avoid saying mess, death, dead body, etc.
I shifted my right hand out from under the blanket, taking Kit's offered one. She smiled brighter, squeezing my hand, "I already gave them the heads up. Mom is cleaning my old room as we speak."
I smiled faintly, wanting to object to leaving the house for her parents. I was not in the mood to sit and paste on a polite face for my future in laws. "Kit, I..."
She shook her head, "I know what you are thinking, but you will not weasel your way out of this one. We need to leave Richmond for a few days." Kit took one step closer, "Claire, you're free now. We are free." She paused looking in my eyes, "And I want to take you home to take care of you."
I closed my eyes, breathing in deeply as the word free settled in. I was free. For the first time in what truly was a lifetime, I was free. I nodded, keeping my eyes closed, "Then let's go."
I didn't have to open my eyes to see the grin on her face, I could almost feel it in the way she clutched my hand. "Perfect. Go upstairs, shower and I will come and get you in twenty minutes." Kit let go of my hand, moving to gently guide me to the stairs to ensure I climbed them and followed her direct orders.
As I stripped down out of the bloody clothes, slipping under the hot spray, I sat on the warm tile of the shower floor. Leaning my head against the side wall, I breathed in and out heavily until the tears began to roll quickly down my face. It was a release. A release of fifteen years of being strong, scared, hopeful, and wondering if I would ever find the way out.
I pushed my wet hair back, sniffling against the water. I had found my way out and all I had to do was keep looking forward.
______________________________
"And here is Caitriona's room!" Kit's mom walked in front of us, glancing over her shoulder excitedly. Her dad was behind us, carrying our bags. Mrs. Neumann pushed the door open, "Now if I had a little more notice, I would have done a little more redecorating." She stood off to the side looking around the room as we entered.
Kit groaned when she saw that the walls were still pink and had a few boy band posters dotted here and there. "Mom, I thought you threw those posters out years ago." Kit walked over to one, picking at the edges to tear it down. I looked around the room, smiling at how the room was exactly what I imagined a teenage Kit's room would be. There was varsity letters pinned to the wall next to a small desk that was now being used as an office. The full sized bed had a pink and white quilt thrown over pink flowered bed sheets. All of it was so very pink.
"Your father wanted to." Mrs. Neumann looked over at her daughter, "Then you went missing for a few years and it was all I really had." She shrugged, plucking at the edge of her sleeve. Kit turned from the poster, her eyes finding mine before she moved to grab her mom in a massive hug.
"Mom, I am here now and I have no intentions of disappearing ever again. I know what I gave up and lost, and I never want to do that again." She hugged her mom tighter, "I love you, mom."
I suddenly felt like I was imposing on this moment, hanging my head down when I felt a hand on my shoulder, "Let's you and I go make some coffee, Claire."
I turned to look right in the glassy eyes of Kit's dad. Nodding tightly as I took his lead, leaving the two women who were now discussing what to do with the old posters.
Kit's parents' house was an old brick and wood house, set up on the side of a hill right on the outskirts of the city. It was an old house but warm and very cozy. A far cry from the expansive estate I grew up in or the even larger houses I kept in Malibu, D.C. and now Richmond. The walls were filled with pictures of the family, dotting in between Pittsburgh Steelers memorabilia. Walter in the Army with a few Polaroid's of him over in Vietnam, followed by Walter's first day at my father's steel mill, Walter and Elsa's wedding photograph, them in front of the house holding up a sold sign. Then there were the pictures of baby Kit that lead to toddler Kit, teenager Kit and the last photograph in the den right next to Walter's chair, was Kit on her graduation day from the academy. Looking fresh faced as she stood with her parents and an older man who had to be her grandfather.
"I hope you don't mind the cramped quarters, Claire. It's a tight fit, but its home." Walter looked back at me as we entered the kitchen. He set about setting up the coffee maker, "When Kit called this morning, we rushed around trying to get the house together. She said that the both of you needed a few days away from Richmond, but didn't exactly say what for." He set the large blue metal can with a yellow lid down, popping open the top and scooping out two healthy doses of coffee into the top of the coffee maker.
I watched the older man, moving with practiced hands, he was very nervous. Nervous like there was a thousand things he wanted to ask. I stepped further into the kitchen, leaning on the edge of the counter that hung off to create a small breakfast bar. "Kit wanted to bring me home." I looked down at the Formica countertop, "This morning there was an incident at the house in Richmond and." I breathed in deeply, feeling the tears rush back, "I am finally free, Walter. I don't have to hide, run or look over my shoulder. I don't have to worry about being in love with my bodyguard and worry about keeping her safe, because I am free." I let out a shaky sigh, looking up into familiar hazel eyes.
Walter nodded, smiling comfortingly at me, "Kit told us about that woman in Connecticut. All of the hell she put you through, Kit through." He folded his arms across his chest, "I knew my little girl would do everything in her power to make sure that mad woman saw her just due, given her new gifts."
I squeezed my eyes shut at the sound of vindication in Walter's voice. "I killed Halston." I choked on the words, feeling the weight of reality as I spoke them. I sucked in a quick breath, "I shot through your daughter to kill that woman." I covered my mouth, pressing the palm hard against my lips to keep the sobs in.
It was hitting me hard, harder than I thought it would as I spoke the words aloud. I had no idea why I suddenly blurted out the words to a man I barely knew. I hadn't even said a peep to Kit about what I was feeling, just smiling, nodding and telling her I was fine when she asked a thousand times in the last few hours. I wasn't fine, I was far from it.
Walter looked down at the floor, his head bobbing as if he understood. He motioned to the back door, "Come on kid, let's talk out on the back porch."
I sniffled and walked to the screen door that took me out onto a large wooden deck that hung off the back of the kitchen. The hill rolling down underneath it and giving a perfect view of the mountains around the house. I moved to the far corner, gripping on the wooden rail, clenching it tightly as I tried to reel in the sobs still desperate to come out.
I heard the back door clack shut behind me, a yellow Steelers mug was set in front of me. The steam curling and rushing up into the cool afternoon air. Winter still hesitant to make an appearance even as we moved further north. I felt Walter stand next to me, "It never makes any sense, killing people. No matter if you are justified by the laws, the decree of war or whatever." He leaned over the rail, holding his mug, "I was twenty years old when they sent me to Vietnam. It only took me three days before I had to pull that trigger and take a life like the Army taught me how to do. Teaching me it was always going to be out of survival. Get them before they get me."
I turned to look at the older man, staring off into the fall colored hills. He glanced at me, smiling, "No one ever talks about the way it feels the seconds after you do it. That you don't know how to talk about it, so you let it soak in your bones and do your best to forget about it and carry on strong for yourself and the others. I failed at that every night after a firefight. I would always take the first night watch so I could sit away from the guys, cover up in my poncho and cry until I felt like I could breathe again. It was the only way I could survive that war and come back home and heal."
Walter paused, his eyes settling on mine, "
But sometimes you have to let it out, let it all go and cry until your eyes are dry like sand. You know why? Because that is what will keep you human and apart from the others. You think that woman ever shed one tear when she killed those people? My baby girl? No." He turned back to the view, "Claire, you aren't like any of the others. Yes, you killed someone out of revenge, maybe a sense of spite, but you also did it to save my daughter, save yourself and who knows how many others that would have fallen next at her hand."
I tucked my hands under my arms, "Will it always feel like this?" My voice came out a raspy whisper.
Walter shrugged, "It will always feel like something. Whatever shape it ends up taking is up to you, Claire." He looked back in my eyes, "For me, it became a motivation to live my life to the fullest and never harm another for as long as I could. My way of honoring the lives I took and the ones sacrificed. For Kit, it became her struggle with the bottle and her inability to embrace the feelings that come with death and being responsible for a death. She allowed it to become a burden."
He smiled tightly, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezing it, "I won't lie to you. You will carry this for the rest of your days. You will see her face on a sunny afternoon in the reflection of a window, you will dream about her, and in time she will fade to a ghost in your memory that pops up when you've had a little too much eggnog at the holidays. Just don't ever let her death control you like she did when she was living." He patted my shoulder, "Live, breathe, be happy, all the things she wouldn't want you to be."
I closed my eyes, tears streaking down my cheek, whispering, "Thank you." I felt lighter knowing that there was someone else out there who understood what had been swirling around in my stomach all day.
"No, thank you. Thank you for saving my daughter." Walter grinned at me, motioning to my left hand, "I see my little girl is determined to make you an honest woman."
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