A Debt Owed
folder
1 through F › Bourne Supremacy
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
17
Views:
2,369
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
1 through F › Bourne Supremacy
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
17
Views:
2,369
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own The Bourne Supremacy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Sleepless
Chapter 5
The male voice sounded again and got increasingly louder tugging me further away from my dream state. I jolted upright surrounded by darkness and that voice. Was Kirill on the phone? But the lights were out. Oh my God was someone else in the room!
My hand dived under the pillow out of habit to grab my gun, I always slept with a gun under my pillow for added security but then realised I didn’t have any of my weapons. Shaking the sleep from my head I searched the room for any moving shapes. My eyes adjusted enough to the faint street lights seeping through the drawn curtains, no one else was in the room. The voice sounded again, just more muffled this time, I only then worked out that it was Russian. My eyes instantly went to the man on the couch, Kirill was still asleep. Was he talking in his sleep? I switched on the bedside lamp and waited for the light to wake him. It didn’t. He mumbled something more, tossing and turning a couple of times, the blanket tangled around his waist as one leg was free of it and resting on the floor. I glanced at the clock radio, it glared back at me 3am. His restlessness had to stop or neither of us was going to get any sleep tonight. I quickly slid out of the bed and walked over to take his out-stretched arm and moved it back to rest on his stomach. I paused to see if that woke him, when it didn’t I gently shook him as another barrage of words flowed; his voice more forceful this time, more agitated.
I called his name several times shaking him again, he stopped talking and his eyes opened slowly to stare up at me. He was still drowsy yet there was something else I saw that made me turn away for a moment. There was a coldness there in those depth, and emptiness that killing brings. It was a place where emotions drowned and ceased to exist. I had seen that same look on several people throughout my life. His eyes held the screams of the truly lost. The sometimes dead.
It was no simple thing to take a life. To kill. Not if you still considered yourself a part of the human race. If they tell you any different then they are lying. To do it successfully you had to shut everything down, all except the primitive instinct that drives you to survive at any cost. I forced myself to meet that gaze as the warmth of his skin reminded me he was alive and breathing. Still capable of some human emotions.
“You were talking in your sleep.”
He just continued to stare up at me with those lifeless eyes. I wasn’t sure if he heard me or not, or if he even knew I was there. Sweat covered his face and now his skin felt cold under my touch. Where ever he was he was far away from here. I pulled the blanket up to his chest moving to lift his leg back up onto the couch. All the while he silently watched me. Gone was the contract killer, replaced by a vulnerable man who obviously suffered more nightmares then I did.
I leaned back over him and relented to my urge to touch him, running the back of my hand down the side of his face, along the small thread of scar tissue there. “Close you eyes, you have to get some sleep.”
He slowly blinked at me, and then once more before they remained closed. I watched him for a few minutes, when satisfied he was asleep I returned to my own slumber.
The male voice sounded again and got increasingly louder tugging me further away from my dream state. I jolted upright surrounded by darkness and that voice. Was Kirill on the phone? But the lights were out. Oh my God was someone else in the room!
My hand dived under the pillow out of habit to grab my gun, I always slept with a gun under my pillow for added security but then realised I didn’t have any of my weapons. Shaking the sleep from my head I searched the room for any moving shapes. My eyes adjusted enough to the faint street lights seeping through the drawn curtains, no one else was in the room. The voice sounded again, just more muffled this time, I only then worked out that it was Russian. My eyes instantly went to the man on the couch, Kirill was still asleep. Was he talking in his sleep? I switched on the bedside lamp and waited for the light to wake him. It didn’t. He mumbled something more, tossing and turning a couple of times, the blanket tangled around his waist as one leg was free of it and resting on the floor. I glanced at the clock radio, it glared back at me 3am. His restlessness had to stop or neither of us was going to get any sleep tonight. I quickly slid out of the bed and walked over to take his out-stretched arm and moved it back to rest on his stomach. I paused to see if that woke him, when it didn’t I gently shook him as another barrage of words flowed; his voice more forceful this time, more agitated.
I called his name several times shaking him again, he stopped talking and his eyes opened slowly to stare up at me. He was still drowsy yet there was something else I saw that made me turn away for a moment. There was a coldness there in those depth, and emptiness that killing brings. It was a place where emotions drowned and ceased to exist. I had seen that same look on several people throughout my life. His eyes held the screams of the truly lost. The sometimes dead.
It was no simple thing to take a life. To kill. Not if you still considered yourself a part of the human race. If they tell you any different then they are lying. To do it successfully you had to shut everything down, all except the primitive instinct that drives you to survive at any cost. I forced myself to meet that gaze as the warmth of his skin reminded me he was alive and breathing. Still capable of some human emotions.
“You were talking in your sleep.”
He just continued to stare up at me with those lifeless eyes. I wasn’t sure if he heard me or not, or if he even knew I was there. Sweat covered his face and now his skin felt cold under my touch. Where ever he was he was far away from here. I pulled the blanket up to his chest moving to lift his leg back up onto the couch. All the while he silently watched me. Gone was the contract killer, replaced by a vulnerable man who obviously suffered more nightmares then I did.
I leaned back over him and relented to my urge to touch him, running the back of my hand down the side of his face, along the small thread of scar tissue there. “Close you eyes, you have to get some sleep.”
He slowly blinked at me, and then once more before they remained closed. I watched him for a few minutes, when satisfied he was asleep I returned to my own slumber.