4.     Recoil

Rick stumbled into the safe house, propelled by a sharp shove from Laurie. Another push and he lost his footing, falling to the concrete floor, limbs giving up after a frantic run to safety. Too tired to complain at the rough treatment and still in shock from the unexpected turn of events that morning, Rick said nothing about the rough treatment, preferring instead to stare at the dusty floor before him.

He was a killer. A murderer. True, it was the reality of the job that he might have to defend himself, and he had, on rare occasions. Oh, Rick knew the mechanics of fighting and he was a trained shooter, but he had never, ever shot to kill. And in a handful of warped minutes all of his noble ideals about the preservation of life had fled and he had racked up a death toll of nine. Nine corpses, nine people who wouldn't be going home that evening. Wouldn't be going home EVER.

He was a murderer.

Squatting in front of Rick, Laurie frowned. Something just wasn't right. The other man had not spoken since the hallway, hadn't made one noise after they shimmied down the fire escape. Never had a tense moment passed where Rick hadn't found some quip, some totally irreverent saying and turned it on its head to relieve the tension. But now it was like his friend wasn't there, Rick was on holiday and he had left an empty shell in his place - an impostor Rick with no life, no feeling. Just dilated pupils, the blank stare and the steady rise and fall of his chest. It was maddening and doing more to shake Laurie than the gunfight had.

"Fuck, Rick. C'mon. Talk to me." Laurie said. His eyes roamed Rick's face in a desperate search for some sign that Rick was still there. "Rick? What is it? Were you hit?" His hands began to feel for the telltale wetness of blood, while his eyes looked for any darkened fabric. There was nothing. "Fuck it. Don't stare into space like some fucked up zombie. Look. At. Me.!"

Laurie swung his hand at Rick, aiming to slap the man out of his stupor. Before he could connect, dark eyes met his and Laurie let his arm drop just short of the target cheek.

"Rick?"

"I'm a murderer." Rick said, his face etched with sorrow.

Laurie stared at him, dumbstruck. "What? Rick, those fuckers weren't taking any prisoners! We're alive because of you."

Rick pushed himself up to his feet, startling Laurie. "Because of me, there are nine dead people in our hotel room, Laurie. NINE DEAD PEOPLE. I shot them and now they are DEAD."

"Yeah, Rick," Laurie said, "nine dead fuckers who were trying to X US out. You did what you had to do to live! Fuck! Anyone would think that you'd never shot no one before. I mean - Fuck!" Laurie stood up abruptly as the pieces fell into place. It fit so perfectly, but it couldn't be. There was just no way this man had never killed before. Rick was a legend, known for his skills as a thief and the horrific things he did to those who crossed him. Everyone knew not to piss him off. 'Never fuck with Rick, 'cause you won't live to regret it.' What was that? Propa-fuckin'-ganda?

"This was your first kill."

Rick grunted in assent. He was now stalking back and forth across the room, smashing his fist onto his thigh, his distress morphing into anger that was all too visible to Laurie. "All nine of them."

"You did what you had to do, Rick. Shit man, they were trying to kill us. They-"

"Us." Rick said, coming to a sudden stop. He turned slowly, an odd look settling onto his face as he began to walk towards Laurie. "They were trying to kill US. Us. You and me. But I was the only one shootin' back, Laurie. Where the fuck were you when the shooting started?"

Laurie heard the accusation in Rick's voice and he backed away from the advancing man. Rick looked livid. His face was a mask of rage, a strong crease appearing between his brow making him look savage, dangerous.

"Where the fuck were YOU?"

Laurie jumped when his back hit the solid brick wall of the building. Rick was just a hair's breadth away from him, so close that Laurie could feel the tickling breath against his cheek. "I was lying on the floor, weapon less, caught between you and an army of mercs! Shit Rick, was I supposed to get up in the middle of a gunfight and kung fu their asses? That ain't likely to happen anytime soon! You had the gun and I had the computer you were so fuckin' desperate to get!"

"Fuck that, Laurie. You could have done something. You could have tried. I- You-" Rick stumbled through the words, anger evaporating just as fast as it had appeared. "I- Why? Why the fuck did this have to happen?"

Now Laurie was stuck for words. His partner, the strong, dependable member of the team, was standing before him looking lost, broken. Laurie wanted to take the burden of guilt away from Rick, comfort him, do something, anything that could make the pain go away. But what could he do? The only avenue he knew of, the only thing he could do, was the one thing that Rick didn't want. Rick had made it plain that morning that he didn't want it when Laurie had woken up alone and Rick had all but permanently installed himself in the shower, avoiding him and what they had done.

When Rick had finally emerged, Laurie had wanted to tell the truth; he had rehearsed it all in his mind. That last night had meant more to him than a quick fuck between friends. That it wasn't a mistake and they could make it work. But one look at Rick, standing in the doorway with that damn impassive, 'I-couldn't-give-a-shit' look on his face and Laurie had said good-bye to hope and hello to lonely reality.

Now, seeing Rick in pain, he bit his tongue to stop the words from spilling out. All he could offer was his love and Rick didn't want it.

Instead, Laurie placed his arms around Rick's shoulders and held the man until the shaking had stopped.

It was a long time before Laurie's heart stopped its own frantic quivering.