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Aramis knew Reckless was a light sleeper. |
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As a matter of fact, Reckless was notorious for complaining about the sound of the breeze whistling through the trees at night, as if Aramis had any sort of power to stop that sort of thing. Hence, it wasn't much of a surprise that he would be stirred from his sleep at the sound of the gun's hammer being cocked back. Still, Reckless wasn't the kind of person to be intimidated so easily. "What in the hell are you doing?" he asked as he stared down the barrel of the silver revolver. "I'm tired of this," Aramis half-whispers, his finger sliding back and forth over the trigger. "I'm tired of everything that you represent. I'm tired of you and I'm going to end it once and for all." After a moment's hesitation, Reckless opened his mouth and let out an almighty yawn, raising his arms high above his head and stretching out lazily. He then, almost causally, pushed the gun aside and hopped off of the bed to dress himself. Aramis is taken aback by this apparent callousness, and can do little more than stand there, keeping Reckless' head aligned with the tiny metal dorsal fin of his gun. His hand shaking, Aramis watches as Reckless dressed himself, paying absolutely no attention to the trembling blonde with the gun in his hand. It was as if Aramis had no power over him at all. As if he posed no threat. As if the bullets in the chamber would simply dissolve once the trigger was pulled. Rather, as Aramis stood there in open-mouthed disbelief, Reckless continued with his morning routine until, finally, he was fully dressed. Again, he turned to Aramis. "Put that down," he scowled, hoisting a heavy burlap bag over his shoulder. "You and I both know you don't have what it takes to pull that trigger. I own you, Aramis. You can't live without me." Aramis shook his head, still pointing the gun directly between Reckless' eyes. "No," he whispered. "No, you don't own me. I am in control of what I do and what I say." Reckless studied the half panicked look on the blonde's face, then sat back down on the bed, a wide smirk splayed across his smug face. "I do own you," he affirmed. "And I have for some time now. I've owned you ever since Kissie and Simara left."
In a moment of absolute insane, blind rage, Aramis cracks the butt of the gun against Reckless' forehead, sending the raven-haired young man reeling in pain. "You have no right to speak their names," he hissed, his eyes filling with unspilled tears. "You will never speak about them again, do you understand me?!" Reckless put a hand to the free-bleeding wound in his forehead, snarling at the young blonde. "It's true and you know it," he says with a sadistic smile. "I've owned you ever since they were put in the ground." Aramis pressed his gun against Reckess' temple, his face red with absolute wrath. "You shut up about them!"
"I don't have to do a single thing you tell me to do, Aramis. You don't control me at all. I control you. I own you. I always have and I always will."
"You only have as much control over me as I let you have, damn it, and I've decided it's enough!"
"You can decide anything you want, Aramis; the truth is, I own you."
"You don't own me... You don't own anyone. You're not even real!"
"I am real, Aramis, and you know it. You know how real I am."
"You're only as real as I allow you to be..."
"You allow me to be real enough. Real enough to cut you."
"Shut up!"
"Real enough to put you in the crazy house."
"Shut up!"
"Real enough to make you scream and claw at the walls. And all I ever have to do to make you go into an insane rage is whisper a few things in your ear."
"SHUT UP!"
"And how would you make me shut up, Aramis?! By sticking those needles in your arm?!"
"I'll kill you, damn it. I'll kill you. All these years I've known you and you're still a mystery to me! All these years, I've carried the secret of your existence with me, kept you inside and hidden from the world. Well, I've had enough. I have. You're never... ever... going to control me again."
"I've heard that line before."
"I'm serious this time. I have help. I have friends. I'm going to get rid of you, you... you... Hell, I still don't even know your real name."
"You know my real name, Aramis. You don't have to pretend anymore."
"...I want you to say it."
"My name?"
"Yes. Say it."
Reckless fixed his eyes on Aramis, slowly rising to his feet. He towers above the blonde by nearly half a foot. His ice-blue, nearly white eyes glared down at the shorter man and he stepped close to the gun-wielding, trembling young man. "My name... is Ashland Rowe."
Aramis had fired a gun plenty of times before. But this time, the gun felt exceptionally heavy in his hands, despite the fact that there was now one less bullet in the chamber. Reckless--no--Ashland Rowe's head snapped back, and a small yet distinctive trail of tiny crimson spots splattered against the ceiling and decorated Aramis' shocked face. Instantly, Ashland Rowe crumpled to the floor, a heap of dead flesh and bone. Never again will he smile. Never again will he laugh. Never again will he cry or get angry or feel the sunlight on his face. Ashland Rowe was dead.
Aramis' arms hung loosely at his sides and he let the gun drop to the floor with a dull "clunk."
His hands tremble as he gathers his belongings. But they aren't shaking out of fear or apprehension. Rather, he is filled with an anxious excitement. An eagerness to begin life again, a life without Ashland Rowe hanging over him like a rain cloud. Finally, after all these years, Aramis was free.
 Bleeding Apocalypse · Fri Apr 22, 2005 @ 03:01pm · 2 Comments |
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