“Take your finger off the trigger.” He shouldn’t be so calm, shouldn’t have a gentle bone in his body when staring down his own gun. They shouldn’t be having this conversation, and the fact that they were probably meant one or the other got sloppy. Probably him, seeing as he left his gun unattended for a moment, then startled her on his return.
He just meets her eyes, though. Sees fear, loss of control, but also awareness. “Nothin’ to it, darling,” though as he speaks he sees the tremor as he speaks, “Just one finger. Off the trigger. C’mon, none of that now,” said as a single tear streaks down her cheek, “you ain’t done nothin’ to me.”
She doesn’t recognize him. She swears she doesn’t. Everything is such a blur, why is she with this man? Didn’t they want her to kill him?
This is a test, she just needs to pull the--
He’s talking to her. She feels something crawl along her cheek. No she knows him. She doesn’t want to hurt him. Not again.
In her confusion, her brows knit together. More tears.
“They’re going to kill me. They’re watching me. I have to.”
She presses either of her hands to her temples, the butt of the revolver sinking into her skin. Where is she? Where are they? She stares at the figure before her. Tall. Strong. He should be attacking her. Easily.
An uneasy sway, and she feels something on her chest. It’s distracting her. A hand wraps around a pendant, and where she was expecting a crucifix, she feels a cylinder. Looking down, it’s a bullet casing with a spider etched onto it, and a crystal she added where the bullet used to be.
The Peacekeeper falls to the floor.
“Jesse,” she says weakly. Looking up, he’s no longer a stranger. No longer intimidating. She remembers her own strength, and him, and what they’re doing. Is this going to work? God, how are they going to make this work?
More tears. She could have killed him!
Outstretching her arms, her eyes beg for him to come into them.