Different Call (Clintasha)

Chpt. 14 - Questions

Natasha

My eyelids were heavy within my half sleep. I couldn't fully allow myself to relax and the guilt of what I had almost done, or rather the fear of consequence kept me awake. My eyes were closed but I was still nearly fully aware of my surroundings. Call it what you will, but it was the closest haven to sleep that I had achieved in the last week time. The metal of the gun was still pressed up against my palm but no longer was it cold but now had a slight warmth gained from my hand. The thermal equilibrium sat like a metaphor of nature urging me to believe that I could change the cold hearted practices I was raised in, given enough time. Still, now that the original adrenaline of lowering the gun instead of falling victim to my own redundant murders had worn off, the ever nagging doubt returned. Everyone likes to play the hero, but at the end of the day it's you or them. The mission is the prime directive, at least for a loyal agent, not a self pitying scumbag of corruption. As the morning dawned, I regretted my decision more and more. Being noble, forgiving, whatever the hell I thought I was doing I should have just done it. Now, with every fleck of light that shimmered over the horizon I brought myself closer to him discovering and my punishment.

My eyes snapped open as the sheets moved overtop of the man sleeping within them. I slowly strained my muscles pushing myself upright against the radiator and crossing my legs. Unfortunately, a small metallic rattle betrayed my presence, the man in the bed sitting up. My legs found their way around each other and by the time he glanced in my direction I was in the position I wanted to be in. Now that I had condemned myself to this fate, I had to commit to the act. Half the battle in every assassination is a good game face and an idea of the situation. I had one of the two and that was enough for me. I kept my eyes trained on him, harnessing my self control and looking as prepared as I could. He reached up to the back of his head ruffling his hair and my eyebrow instinctively shot up. He was holding me fugitive in his room sleeping at all was an enormous risk but taking time to wake up? What was this man thinking?

He let out a long yawn and slowly got to his feet. His movements were laggy and censored, plainly reading the damage I had inflicted yesterday. The tissue on his skull surrounding one of his eyes was slightly swollen although the discolouration made it look much worse than it actually was. With the state of him I could only imagine what I looked like. With a curious pause, he looked over at me again and then shot me an experimental smile. I held together my resolve keeping my face plastered unreadable but trying to diagnose conclusions from every action. And then it came.

" 'Morning." He said moments after his smile, the accent in his voice probing the contours of the room.

No sooner had he greeted me than his eyes landed on the pack of ammunition lying feet from his bed. He bent down to get it, a grunt escaping his mouth as he bent over. I could see now that the damage inflicted yesterday was more than the superficial bruise he wore on his face. Evidence of a broken rib, maybe worse. At my realization I could help but feel a pit of guilt surfacing from my gut. Insistent on staying with the plan, I forced it down and kept my eyes on him.

As I tracked his eyes I could see how they flicker from the ammo to the shelf and back down to me with a sort of confused panic that only someone completely misunderstanding could have. I couldn't wait any longer seeing how the man looked and scanned me. I opened my palm, my flesh sticking to the print of the metal, to reveal the gun. I held it by the muzzle, barrel directed at me. It was a sort of permission, not as insistent as the last nor did I want to burden him with my problems if I was going to do this. With hesitation, I gripped the gun harder to mask my shaking fingers and placed it on the ground. Within moments I had given it a kick to his feet.

This took less time than last.

Immediately he recognized my sign of surrender and before I could compose myself I found him face to face with me.