Line of Fire

2x13; one of us

Running...

Fast paces and heavy breaths.

Was someone being chased? Or were they the one in pursuit?

An empty corridor with hundreds of doors. One was thrown open, metal screeching against the concrete floor. Silence. Breathing, steps and running once more.

There was something in one of those rooms. Something that reeked of iron and copper, sickly sweet. And the farther down the corridor, the stronger it got. It was nauseating.

The last hall in the corridor was different. Intricately designed wood. It didn't belong there.

Neither did the dark stains pouring out from under it.

The door opened on it's own, creaking with age. This room wasn't a soldier's quarters like all the others. It wasn't empty either.

Bodies, fallen lifelessly to the floor. Some of the men had limbs bending at awkward angles. Some of their faces were twisted into grimaces. Every one of them were marked with blood. They were still limp so whatever had moved through, whatever evil, it had to be recent.

A voice spoke up from somewhere. "I know this place..."

Stepping carefully over the bodies, the door on the other end of the room opened. A bedroom again, but decorated much more lavishly than any other soldier's room. Several more men in suits surrounded the bed at the room's center.

None of them were breathing.

Neither was the man in the bed. A single bullet wound over the right side of his chest, a clean, circular hole through his silk pajamas.

"Who...Who could've done something like this?"

"Now that's a funny question," someone laughed. The sound was full of mirth, so strange to hear from such a familiar mouth. John Garret looked the same as he always did, easy smile stretching across his face. But there was a look in his eyes now...He wasn't hiding anything. "Why don't I ask you the same thing, Mara?"

At the sound of her name, she stiffened, whirring around to face her former S.O. "I know what kind of man you are now," Mara spat. "I know what you did. Three seconds, or you find out firsthand."

"Oh, I think I heard about that," Garret smiled, false ignorance finding its way into every corner of his voice. "They're calling you Crossfire these days, aren't they?"

"Don't sound so proud," Mara grimaced. The way glimmer in Garret's eyes reminded Mara of a father watching his child. "You're a monster."

Again, Garret laughed and it shook the strength of Mara's stare. "You know the one misconception everyone has about Frankenstein?" Garret asked, his question rhetorical. "I raised you from the dead Mara, I think that makes me the good doctor himself. But if I'm Frankenstein, what does that make you?"

"Regretting the fact that you interfered," Mara muttered dangerously.

"No, you're not," John said and his words cut deeper than any other insult he'd hurled her way. When Mara said nothing, he shrugged and began heading for the door. "Well, I think my three seconds are up." As his hand touched the doorknob, he added, "Before I leave, one question. You know why they call you Crossfire, right?" He paused, throwing one last look back at Mara. "That path you're leaving behind...you're a monster."

Before Mara could say anything more, the door slammed shut. Behind it was a mirror that left Mara staring back into a very familiar pair of fiery amber eyes. Her skin glowed too, but that wasn't what made her stare. Blood splattered her skin, covering nearly every inch of it in dark, brutal red. Her heartbeat sped up, pumping adrenaline through every vein and making it hard to breathe.