The Assassin's Tree

( 13 )

I couldn't read the look on Chandler's face when he turned to face me again. He placed a firm hand on my shoulder, though this time I couldn't push it away. "Come now, I'm sure Kriss has found Dean... I swear she has a tracker on him." His voice was softer now, though monotone as he attempted to jest.

I didn't respond, trailing after him as we climbed up a set of stairs that led to the bedrooms. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, lined with doors. Occasionally the hallway branched off into several different passages. It felt like an awful maze of door after door.

Chandler stopped outside one of these doors. The name carved into the plaque read 'Mendoza' in a sloppy script. He gave a rough knock.

"...said stop it-- I'm coming!" I could barely pick out Dean's strained voice, but within a few moments, the door opened. Dean looked rather flustered, and Kriss stood behind him with an annoyed pout on her lips.

"Mendoza, good to see you." Chandler spoke coolly, though there was an air of tension. He pushed me towards Dean, and I tripped over my own feet, falling into his arms. He stabilized me, before looking back up at Chandler.

"Why have you brought him to me?" Dean sounded displeased with the situation.

Yeah, me too pal.

"Leon has agreed to help us-"

"No, I haven't." I cut him off quickly, nudging Dean away from me as I regained my own balance.

Chandler cleared his throat, and tried again. "He has agreed... to stay here with us on the condition that his friends remain free. I've taken it into my hands to decide what happens from here." He passed the key to the handcuffs to Dean. "He will stay with you for... Three months. If, after those three months, he has not given up the desired information... I will be sure that he and his friends suffer a fate worse than death."

I shuddered, quickly dropping my eyes to the ground.

"I'll do what I can. I hope not to disappoint." Dean's voice gave no hint to his feelings on the matter. He pulled me into the room, clearing the doorway. "Kriss. Since you're no longer needed, I ask that you leave."

Kriss frowned, reluctantly slinking out of the room and down the hall without another word.

Chandler placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "All will fall into place again, I assure you." He turned and followed quickly after Kriss without waiting for a response. Dean's shoulders fell quickly as he let out a heavy sigh.

Dean slowly closed the door, before turning his attention back to me. "Why do I always get stuck with you?" He sounded bitter and looked angry, but still removed the handcuffs from my wrists.

"It's not my choice, obviously." I turned away from him, refusing to meet his eyes and instead taking in the small studio apartment. I glanced briefly at him as he walked into the kitchen area and began to rummage around.

I was a bit surprised at how clean his room was.

I slowly wandered over to the kitchen, bringing my hand up to my mouth and subconsciously beginning to chew at the skin around my nails. There was still a bit of leftover black nail polish on them. Out of the corner of my eye, I noted that Dean was giving me a weird look.

"What?" I shrugged. "I get nervous."

Tapping his fingers on the counter, he shrugged, before going about his business. He pulled some kitchenware out of cabinets and ingredients out of a small fridge. He didn't speak a word.

Well, at least he doesn't seem angry anymore.

The voice in my head reasoned this cheerily, and I agreed. I much preferred quiet Dean to angry Dean.

I pulled my body up onto the counter, sitting and watching him as he worked to prepare what I assumed was his dinner. He looked up at me for a moment, rolling his eyes before resuming his work.

We sat in this silence for some time, as he worked on cutting up some fruits, tossed salad, and made sandwiches.

Not one sandwich, I noticed, but two, each on their own plates, with two little bowls of fruit salad. Throughout this entire process, he didn't look at me. But I assumed he could feel my eyes burning a hole in his neck.

Finally, he looked up at me, and we made... really awkward eye contact. Eventually he spoke, as if he was startled into action. "Uhm- for you, if you're hungry." He nudged a plate and bowl in my direction, and I noticed that his cheeks got a bit pink.

After a moment of hesitation, I picked up the salad bowl that he had pushed my way. "... Thanks." I glanced down at the turkey sandwiches. "And... for future reference, uhm.. I'm a vegetarian." Feeling like a bit of a jerk, I added- "But that was nice of you." I felt my face go hot, and mentally face palmed for being so socially inept.

And then my mind decided to do another 180. "Why... why did you do that? Aren't you gonna... I don't know. Starve me, beat me, or something? You know- since I'm supposed to be your enemy, and you're supposed to be getting information out of me?" I spoke a bit quickly, stumbling over my words. I felt stupid for even saying any of it, but to me it was an important question.

Dean, again, stayed silent, taking in what I said to him. After a moment, he shook his head, grabbing his plate and bowl and setting them on the coffee table situated in front of the couch. He sat down, motioning for me to come sit next to him. "I'll explain everything to you, I promise, but please... just sit."

Obediently, like a dumb dog, I followed him over to the couch. I sat down at the opposite end, as far away as I could possibly be, holding the salad bowl close to my chest.

Dean glanced over at me, sighed with disappointment, and motioned me closer. "As much as I hate to say it, I won't hurt you. That would get us nowhere. Not everything has to be solved with violence, Leon." His voice was soft, and gentle. Like the voice he used when he was tending to my wounds earlier.

Hearing him say my name in that voice triggered something in my brain, and I slowly moved closer to him, just a few inches closer. There was still a good amount of space between us. "Okay. That's it. That's as close as I'm getting." I murmured, more to myself than to him.

"Fine." Dean picked up his sandwich, biting into it. The smell of the turkey finally hit me, and I scrunched my nose up. It was enough to make me sick. I hadn't eaten meat in so long that the smell alone could make me nauseous. I turned my face away from him so that I wouldn't have to deal with the smell.

I tried to force some bites of the salad down, but I couldn't muster it. I didn't have much of an appetite at all.

Reflecting on the day's events, I yawned, setting the bowl down on the table and pulling my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them. Leaving myself vulnerable, and feeling... oddly safe, I fell into a heavy slumber.