we're rewatching stuff an i can't tell if our amnesias just being extra funky or we were really inattentive the first time we watching
its not a 'i kind of remember this/i know that i watched so i can piece it together' we're just watching this for i think the 20th or so time and ive NEVER heard that line before. an im used to not remembering things but there's usually some recollection? but there's actually none
Ramo and Sibel (sort of) film noir AU scene, about how they ended before they could even start. Title inspired by the song from The Cure. AO3 link here.
He doesn't even shudder when he feels the gun barrel at the back of his head. It's quite dark in the room, and he didn't really hear her coming, but only one person could ever enter this place with a gun in their hands, and it happens to be the person he trusts the most.
Probably also the person who will kill him someday.
"Good evening, Miss Sibel," he says, without moving, voice calm as always, but with a slight displeasure in his tone. If the old man has sent her, this is going to be more difficult than he imagined.
A moment of silence, then she sighs, puts the weapon down, and enters his visual field.
"Good evening, Ramo," she replies.
He glances at her briefly. It's enough to notice she's beautiful as always; dressed in all black, hair styled to perfection, red lipstick, a long pearl necklace her only accessory, with the exception of her elegant purse.
"You don't seem happy to see me," she remarks, taking a seat at the table, right in front of him. "Would you have preferred Neco?"
He can tell the mere thought is hurting her; for everyone else, this would be non-detectable, but not for him. He knows how hard she has worked to convince her grandfather (that bastard) that she is competent enough to be involved in the family business.
"It's not that," he says, the ghost of a smile fluttering on his lips. "It's just easier to deal with him, because he's stupid, unlike you."
He sees her relaxing in the chair. The gun has disappeared (probably back in her purse, he guesses), and she's now lighting a cigarette.
"Not sure if I should get upset because you're insulting my brother, or feel flattered because you have bestowed on me one of your rare compliments," she observes, inhaling the smoke.
"You always said you would never get upset at someone who is saying the truth," he says. "Don't start now."
At that, she slowly exhales the smoke, then exhibits a genuine smile.
For about half a minute, she's just smoking in silence, and he watches her, expression unchanged. In many ways, she's so different from the young woman he used to protect as a bodyguard, but there are so many things that haven't changed.
Like the way he feels about her.
"So," she finally says, stubbing out the cigarette. "I'm here to negotiate."
Quite direct. That hasn't changed either.
"I'm listening."
"I'm negotiating for my grandfather's life," she says, voice quiet, but determined. "I want a truce. His life in exchange for something."
Another ghost of a smile is fluttering on her lips, this time bitter. "This, Miss Sibel, might be the only thing I will never be able to give to you, and you know why."
"I know it well, which is why the death of my father did not come as a surprise."
Her voice is slightly cold now, and he cannot blame her one bit. Her father might have been a monster; he was her father still.
"I know it's revenge you're looking after, and I also know this is why our... friendship ended."
Wouldn't exactly call that a friendship, Ramo thinks, but is wise enough to stay quiet, for the time being. Sibel goes on, the expression on her face hardened:
"But you're not looking the right way. It's not my grandfather who gave the torture and execution order for your father."
"I don't care much," Ramo speaks, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "I made a promise back then. Whoever is responsible for this - all of them - will die. And you know me well, Sibel. You know I'm not the kind of man who would ever break a promise."
"Oh, we've dropped the Miss, I see," she says, voice deceptively casual. "Good. This feels more like the friendly talk I was after."
"You're threatening all of your friends with guns?"
"Please," she scoffs. "It was not loaded, and you know that. If I would really want to kill you, I wouldn't do it behind your back, and I would definitely not be stupid enough to do it in a place controlled by you and your family."
He does not comment, but she could do it, and get away with it too. He gave explicit orders that exempt Sibel not only from any kind of search, but also from any kind of retaliation if she would dare to take that last step and shoot him, as he always jokingly told her she would.
He can't give the rest of his life to her, but she's welcome to take it if she wants to. That's how it has always been with them.
"Like I said," she continues, seemingly not noticing his inner monologue, "I'm here for a truce."
"What could you possibly give me that might be important enough for me to stop all this, Sibel?"
"Cihangir," she says, so calm like she didn't just turn his world upside down.
"Cihangir," he repeats.
"Yes."
He's not the kind of man to be easily taken by surprise, but he's literally at a loss now.
Cihangir. The man responsible for turning his childhood into hell, the man who made him grow up before his time.
The man who orchestrated the killing of his father.
"I'll... have to think of it."
"Of course," she says carefully, not allowing any emotion to cross her face, but if he knows her (and he does), she's relieved.
She knows Cihangir's demise is the one thing he could never say no to.
"I'm assuming you have a plan," he says, struggling to keep his voice as neutral as possible.
"I would have never come to you if I did not have one," she replies. "It's long, and complicated, and it will probably involve a fake relationship. With Taner," she adds, when Ramo's eyebrows are raising in surprise.
"Cihangir's son?"
"Yeah. I thought everything through, but if I am to do this, I will need your unconditional support, and the promise that, no matter what, my family will be safe through all this."
"You would have both," Ramo says.
If it's Cihangir, he can sacrifice a part of his revenge. For now. For now.
He has sacrificed more important things. Such as the way Sibel used to look at him once, with love in her eyes, and a flirty smile on her lips.
All of that, dead and gone, slipping through his fingers before they even had the chance to start properly. Her, cradling her father's head in her lap, blood on her hands, a desperate scream. I will never forgive you for this. Never.
Years have passed, and it's still the thing he regrets the most. Not killing her father, but hurting her.
"I should have married you," he speaks all of a sudden. "Back then."
They never speak of this; they never speak much in private anymore. It had been an option, back then, to end the feud, at least officially. Her grandfather had come with the idea, but Ramo knew - he knew this would have hurt her even more. So he didn't do it.
She's smiling, sweetly, sadly.
"We would have killed each other."
I'm dead anyway.
Another thought he will never put into words, because why would it matter anyway? Wishing impossible things has always been the one thing that kept him alive, but the cold rage in her eyes back then killed even his capacity of wishing.
She knows now; she understands, because he told her everything after the death of his uncle, an unintended consequence of the personal war they had started. And it's like this now; her family did not seek further retaliation, and neither did his. The years and his endless manipulations made his family stronger, hers weaker, but when it comes about his heart, she's still the one with all the power.
"I will leave now," she speaks, standing up. "You have much to think about."
"I do," he agrees, quietly.
"One more thing," she adds, stopping next to him, and when he raises his eyes, she takes the gun out of her purse, and loads it, pointing it straight at him.
"I'm listening."
"If I would really want to kill you, I would look you in the eye while doing it."
He smiles.
"That would be a beautiful way to die."
He doesn't even realise that he spoke the words out loud, but then Sibel's arm goes down, and her lips are on his, and it's the first time in years he has felt alive.
Then she turns on her heels, points the gun at the window in front of them, shoots at it, and the glass breaks.
"Like this," she says. "Like how you killed me."
She's gone in a heartbeat, and all that's left behind is the promise of what could have been, and the impossibility of it all.
