Traitor part 8
ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE
here it is everyone :)) took me forever but itās finally here! now I can disappear in peace lol. Iāll proofread everything later, but I hope this lives up to everyoneās expectations. thank you all for the love youāve given this series. I hope this gives you some closure.
let me know if you want any drabbles from the series <3
thank you again!
after kyle finally leaves you alone, you slink back against the door, shutting your eyes so tightly stars dot your vision.
it never ends, does it?
apologies. worry. sympathy. pity.
it was in each of their eyesā the one-four-one. each of them trying to mask their pity for you behind sickening sympathy. you were exhausted of that lookā not just from them, but from everyone you had walked past or looked at since everything had happened.
you open your eyes, scanning the room. what once had been a haven had become a hell. shattered glass sprinkled the floor near the mirror. clothes were still strewn about. you hadnāt bothered picking up what had been disturbed.
youād be gone too soon for it to matter.
your phone rings then, the screen lighting up in the dimly lit room. you let the ring tone play for a second longer before youāre moving, reaching for the device on your nightstand.
itās kate, and you breathe a sigh of relief.
āhello?ā you say as you answer the call.
āitās kate,ā comes the womanās familiar voice through the speaker. āim on my way to base. should be there by tomorrow.ā
you startle, eyebrows raising in confusion. āyouāre coming here? why?ā
you hear her sigh. āwe can talk about it tomorrow. I need to meet with john, anyways. two birds, one stone and all that.ā she tells you.
ācan you at least tell me if the paper work is all set for my transfer?ā you ask.
she doesnāt answer for a moment, and then:
āweāll talk about it tomorrow, sergeant. get some rest. you sound like you need it.ā
you hear a click, and then the line goes dead. you furrow your brows as you look down at the phone in your hand.
why on earth would she come all the way here just to talk?
your mind is moving a mile a minute, and suddenly, it clicks.
laswell is coming here to do damage control.
you huff a mirthless laugh, dropping your phone as your hands come up to run through your hair.
you werenāt being reassigned. you were being discharged.
but was it at her insistence, or someone elseās?
you whip around, wrenching open the door and storming down the hall to priceās office. those you pass in the hallway give you bewildered stares, and suddenly youāre aware that youāre still in that damned robe, but youāre on a mission.
and when you start something, you see it through.
you donāt bother knocking as you reach priceās door. instead, you barge into the office, effectively interrupting an argument between price and simon. their voices die off, heads turning to appraise who had barged in.
priceās eyes widen at the sight of you, but simonās face is as unreadable as always. the door clicks shut behind you, and you stalk towards the two men, your fists clenched as you seethe.
āyou motherfuckers,ā you hurl the words at them, āyou fucking knew. you knew.ā
ālove, what are you talkinā about?ā price questions, his brows furrowed as he turns to you.
ālaswell,ā you say, and priceās eyes widen. he knows. and now he knows you know.
āwhatever she told youāā
āshe didnāt tell me shit,ā you huff. āI figured it out. why the fuck else would she come here just to talk? sheās playing fucking babysitter, isnāt she?ā
price doesnāt speak. your gaze flits to simonās.
āIām sure you were rooting for this outcome, werenāt you? couldnāt finish me off in that fucking room, but hey, this is just as good, isnāt it? sending me back to fucking nothing.ā
āthis job is my life,ā you turn your attention back to the captain. āand you fuckers just canāt stop ruining it, can you?ā your voice is raising, and tears prick the corners of your eyes. youāre becoming hysteric.
āall because of a fucking lie!ā youāre yelling now, jabbing a finger into the chest of your former captain.
ācalm down,ā the sound of simonās rough baritone leads your head to snap toward him. your eyes are wide, fury and terror blazing in them.
and he expects you to let loose. scream and hit and scream some more. but you donāt.
you stand there and you stare at him with those wide eyes. the rest of the roomā hell, the world falls awayā and itās just him and you.
like it was on patrol during countless nights, your bare fingers dancing over his gloved hands as you prattled on about a show you liked.
on countless nights curled up in his bed, your back to him, pressed so close he could feel the beat of your heart in his own chest. his arms wrapped around you, one of your fingers lazily tracing the ink on his forearm. no words spoken, yet so much said.
in the field, when you and johnny bicker over comms and he takes your side. when you take a bullet to the shoulder and he holds pressure on it until evac arrives.
when he makes eye contact with you as you pin kyle to the training mat, finally able to overcome his strength. when price tells him youāre the rat and he doesnāt want to believe it.
itās just him and you. a lieutenant and his sergeant. but itās more than that.
itās a deep understanding of this job being your life. of losing everything and everyone you hold dear. of finding family again in this team, and doing whatever it takes to keep that family safe.
and he fully realizes, then, what you have been condemned to.
what they condemned you to.
what he condemned you to.
he breaks from his thoughts as you slam your fist into his jaw.
priceās eyes widen, his feet carrying him forward to intervene, but simon waves him off as he cradles a hand to his jaw.
ālet āem,ā he grunts out, and price looks bewildered, but he nods. he takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides, and he lets you strike again.
āfuck you,ā you seethe, and despite your best efforts, your voice cracks. emotion seeps in, and your eyes are wet as you swipe a leg out from under him, forcing him to his knees.
he falls with no grace, knees hitting the concrete floor with a dull thud. youād cringe if this were any other circumstance.
instead, you deliver another blow, cracking his nose with the force of it. blood sprays out and wets your robe.
āghostāā price begins from somewhere off to the side, but simon just shakes his head.
āfuck you, simon! fuck you!ā you scream at him, and your fists are flying blindly as tears cloud your eyes.
and he just takes the hits. you subconsciously register the sound of the office door squeaking as it opens and quickly closes. price didnāt want to be a bystander any longer, it seems.
but he still didnāt jump in. was it because of ghostās insistence? or because your captain didnāt want to watch one of his soldiers finally snap?
you finally stop yourself when blood drips from your knuckles. unsurprisingly, theyāve split again. thereās no doubt in your mind that there will be little scars between each of them once theyāve healed.
more to add to the reminder of everything. god, at this point you knew youād never forget it even if you wanted to. even if you tried to. even if you did for a brief moment, those little white linesā discolored and jagged skin in the place of what should be smooth and unmarred, would be your reminder.
blood pools on the floor, a mix of yours and simonās. you pay it no mind as you wipe the backs of your hands on your completely ruined robe. goodā now you had a great excuse to throw the damned thing away.
you wouldāve thrown it away anyways.
you bring your hands to your eyes, wiping away tears that had freed themselves their cage. you see simon clearly then, his face bloodied and yet still beautiful in that way of his. his nose is obviously broken. lacerations above his eye and on his cheekbones.
his eyes are staring back you, the icy blue of them never more intense than now.
you heave in your breaths as you look at him. his split lip cracks further as he opens his mouth.
ādone?ā
and you donāt have anything left to give, so you nod. then you slump to your knees, down onto his level, and you donāt look away from what youāve done.
itās no different than what you did to the doctor, or to countless enemies in the field. but, at the same time, it is different.
because itās him, and he let you do this. he could have easily stopped you. heād shown his strength against you numerous times on the sparring mat, picking you up and tossing you around with ease.
and yet he didnāt stop you.
āwhy?ā you ask him, and itās a loaded question. your voice is a watery tremble, and the word comes out as a whisper, but he doesnāt shy away.
he shrugs. āyou needed it.ā
heās focusing on one aspect of the questionā on why he let you hit him. you open your mouth to respond, but he surprises you by speaking again.
āleast I could do,ā he says.
you close your mouth, your chapped lips pressed into a thin line. why is he doing this now? saying this now? what changed?
āis it your fault, then? that Iām being discharged?ā you find yourself asking, and youāre not sure if you want to know the answer.
maybe you just want a reason to hate him more.
āno,ā he says, and you know he means it.
he never lied to you, regardless of any pain it may have saved. it was one of the things you had loved about him.
he sighs. āI didnāt want you to go.ā
that surprises you. simon was never one to freely speak on his feelings. he had opened up to you during your relationship, but it was as if there was always an invisible line he could never cross. never did he utter the complete truth to his thoughts or feelings. and you had accepted thatā because that is who he was.
and you would take him with all his walls if it just meant that you could have him.
āI donāt want you to.ā he corrects himself.
the room falls silent around you. the part of you that still holds love for him yearns for his embrace at this moment. but you push that side of you down. you will not go crawling back, not after what happened.
āyouāve been an asshole,ā you say, and he gives a curt nod.
āprobably.ā he concedes. ābut I wouldnā take anythinā back. I told you, I meant what I said.ā
āis that supposed to make me feel better?ā you ask. god, he has a horrible way with words.
āno,ā he tells you. ānothinā I can say can do that.ā
you snort. you fall back on you haunches, your hands in your lap as you look at him.
āI am never going to forgive you,ā you tell him, words full of so much hurt.
he nods again. āI know. I donā blame you. donā expect you to, neither.ā
ābut Iāmā¦ā he starts, and his lips crease in a frown. āim sorry.ā
you just look at him. perhaps you had wanted an apology at one moment in time, but now? now none of it mattered.
āI hope so,ā you tell him. you move to stand, and he remains still. he hasnāt moved an inch since youād finished your assault.
āI hope you feel this way for the rest of your lonely life. I hope that you never forget what you did to me, and I hope that it keeps you up at night. because I can tell you with certainty that I will never forget. and I hope the others remember, too. I hope it tears you all apart from the inside. that it follows you around for the rest of your career.ā
you breathe in, then out. āand I hope no one ever gives you the chances I did,ā your voice is soft. ābecause I would never wish what you did to me on the next person you think you love.ā
his face conveys no emotion other than the small frown still on his lips. his eyes, so cold, have softened the tiniest bit. you used to love when you could bring out that softness inside of him. when it was just the two of you, your hand in his, his eyes on you.
those memories would suffocate you if you let them. what couldāve been will suffocate you. you refuse to let it.
you turn and stalk towards the door, not bothering to spare him another glance. you open it, stepping out into the hallway, coming face-to-face with the rest of the one-four-one.
their eyes are all wide as they take you in. your bloodied hands and robe. the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. you pull the door shut behind you before you speak.
āi donāt care to speak to kate,ā you say to price, your eyes meeting his. āfuck her for not giving me a chance. and fuck you for laying down like a damn dog and not fighting for your fucking team.ā
you turn to johnny next. āyou shove your sorries up your ass, mactavish. I donāt want your sympathy, and I donāt want your pity. I hope your regret eats you alive.ā
finally, kyle. āand you,ā you glare at him. āif anyone other than simon shouldāve defended me, it shouldāve been you. I met you first, kyle. you were my closest friend, my brother. and you turned out to be just another fucking lap dog.ā
you shake your head, blinking away hot tears. āI want you to get me temporary housing and a car because thatās the least you owe me, after ruining my life. and I donāt want to hear from any of you ever again. if I do, I guarantee you I will not show you the mercy you think you showed me when you had me tied up in that chair.ā
none of them spoke, and you didnāt give them a chance to as you pushed past them, heading back toward your room to change.
a yellow cab retrieves you from base the next morning before kate arrives. itās still dark outside when you leave the shelter that had once been home. rain pours down around you, a raging storm hanging overhead as it had all night prior. perhaps it was a reflection of your mood. you liked to think that it was.
you toss your duffle bag into the trunk, shutting it before climbing into the back seat. you hadnāt bothered to pack anything other than a few pairs of clothes youād recovered from the floor of your room. everything else could be trashed, especially anything the boys had given you.
the driver doesnāt speakā price had given him all the information he neededā and paid himā before heād fetched you. it seems your final outburstā and beating simon to a pulpā had finally put some urgency in his movements.
none of them had seen you off, per your request. you thought it was the least they could do for you after continuously disrespecting your boundaries.
(unbeknownst to you, simon had watched you leave through a window.)
the driver turned up the musicā some pop song you didnāt know the name ofā and you slumped in your seat, your head turned toward the window as you watched the rain race down it.
you found yourself drifting off quickly, and you didnāt try to fight it. youāre finally free of that place and the men you thought were your family. free of the anxiety of seeing them around every corner. free of the hate that sparked in your heart every time you heard their voices.
you sleep, and for the first time since before everything, itās peaceful.
you wake to the taxi driver talking to you.
āweāre here,ā he says, knocking on the glass separating the front and back seats. ācan you get out now? I gotta get home. itās my wifeās birthday.ā
you blink the sleep from your eyes, nodding before you even register what heās saying. āsorry,ā you mumble as you fumble with the seat belt.
you slip from the car, your boots splashing in a muddy puddle. you grimace as the murky water seeps in, wetting your socks.
you trudge around to the back of the car, opening the trunk and retrieving your bag. youāve just shut the trunk and stepped back when the car is driving off, kicking up mud that further dirties your boots and jeans.
you pay it little mind as you look at the small cottage before you.
nestled between some trees, itās beautiful. a shingled roof. light blue paneled siding. a small front porch with a rocking chair and a bench swing. a beautiful dark blue door.
your favorite flowers live in the flower beds surrounding what you can see of the house. it makes you wonder if its a simple coincidence or if simon or price planned it.
how long have they known that you would have to come here? that you would have no where else to go except for where they put you?
you vowed that this house would just be temporary. you would get away from it as soon as possible, putting the rest of the one-four-one behind you. you didnāt want any of them knowing where to find you.
the rain slows to a sad drizzle. drops prick your skin as you make no effort to avoid puddles, splashing carelessly to the front door. you can hear birds beginning to chirp, slipping out of their hiding places as the sunās rays begin to illuminate the earth once more.
a new beginning, you think.
you reach a hand toward the door knob, twisting it open and pushing inside. itās a cozy little place with wood floors and a brick fireplace. itās furnished, but thereās no personality to it. it clearly hasnāt been somebodyās home.
the door clicks shut behind you as you toe off your boots and drop your duffle by the door. as you nudge your boots out of the way with a foot, you notice an envelope on the floor.
eyebrows scrunched in confusion, you lean down and scoop it up. your name is written on the front in a scrawl you donāt recognize.
who else knows youāre here?
perhaps youāll need to leave sooner than you thought.
you push your thumb under the seam, ripping it open with little finesse. inside is a typed letter. itās an offer, you realize. a job offer.
its got an american stamp on it, and its signed by a phillip graves.
a new beginning indeed.











