407
Drabbles (1)
by
elfin
~ Harry ~
It was like standing at the
edge of a battlefield and seeing an angel.
The pouring rain was washing
the blood from the pavement, cleaning away the evidence.
Our lucky day. All of us standing
there; soaked the skin. No one moving.
I wouldn't give the order to
fire, despite the ten or more amassed armed officers.
Even if he pulled the trigger I wouldn't let
them shoot him. Rather one nasty - if
useful - bad guy than another of my people.
I've lost too many already. And Adam's
been through enough.
One minute I could see black
headlines, hear the rants of would-be politicians, feel my career and
Adam's
starting the slow descent down the toilet.
The next he was standing
between the weapon and Adam's hapless victim.
A man I'd never thought to
ever see again. A man whose presence was
nothing short of a miracle.
Tom Quinn.
I'll never believe he was
'just passing'.
I watched him approach Adam
without a word to the rest of us. Just
as soaked, jacket hood up, he walked up to Adam and straddled the legs
of the
terrified terrorist on the ground, uncaring back to the bleeding face
and
broken arm, reaching out to lay a hand on Adam's shoulder.
He didn't even try to take
the gun. He just said something,
something meant only for Adam, and wiped his thumb over the dripping
hair just
above Adam's ear. It was such an intimate
gesture, so delicate and understanding, that any thought of this being
coincidence
was wiped away.
Tom had been watching, closer
than we had. He'd seen the dangers, read
the signs. Somehow he knew our best
agent better than we did. Something in
his touch told me how, I just wasn't ready to acknowledge it.
No one moved. No one on the outside of the
circle
spoke.
Inside it their voices couldn't
be heard above the rain on the cars and concrete.
But whatever Tom was saying,
Adam was nodding, and after a minute or two he lowered the gun to his
side and
leaned forward to rest his forehead against Tom's.
I imagined his eyes closing, the tension
draining from his body like a flood, and I gave the quiet order for the
armed
officers to stand down.
It was another few, long, wet
seconds before Tom finally led Adam over to us, away from the abyss. Ironic that it took a man lost to us to bring
one back.
Seeing Adam's tears mingling
with the rain streaming down his face, I felt like crying myself.
He handed the gun to me with
a single word, "Sorry," and Tom just glared at me as if it hadn't
been two years since we'd laid eyes on each other.
I assured them they didn't
have to worry. No repercussions, not
this time, they both had my word.
"I'll take him
home," Tom told me, and I knew he wasn't talking about the Carter
residence. I doubted Adam had even been
there
in the weeks since.
I watched them walk away,
Tom's hand at Adam's back; glad of him.
Glad of them.
Later, I promised myself, I'd
go round there. Maybe I'd hold Adam in
my arms one last time. Then I'd go to
Ruth's house and tell her everything.