At The End Of The Tunnel

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At The End Of The Tunnel

Co-Written By Harley Quinn hyenaholic and Froggy22651

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Harley: A word to the fans of the Universe Backstabber series – I have put that temporarily on hold because, quite simply, I lost interest when my computer deleted it. I will get back to it, I swear. Eventually.

Espio: Thank god for that. I was sure I’d get a good ass raiding in the next chapter.

Harley: Oh, you will, you will. But you’ve got some time to lube yourself up now. Maybe Rping rape will get me in the mood… In the meantime, everybody feel free to hit me with big sticks.

Espio: Hold still, I’ll go get one…

Harley: Okay, I’ll deal with this chapter while you’re away.

~~~

Chapter Nine: Welcome To My Truth

“Bridget Loranski, One Guests.”

Breech blushed, “Shut up, you.”

James smiled. So that was her real name. He’d have to look her up sometime – in Knothole’s extensive encyclopaedia of criminal profiles.

Breech opened the door to her apartment. The first thing that struck James about it, was the mess. There were crisp packets, what he mentally classed as ‘ladies clothing’ because of all the lace, and some bottles of alcohol. It was rapidly becoming obvious that Breech did not spend a lot of time there, but someone did.

Breech smiled up at James, "Welcome to my truth," she smiled. She ran around picking up the rubbish, and looked up, "If I'd anticipated you coming I'd have cleaned up a little."

James smiled, "Oh, its alright. I don't mind,” he said, looking around the room.

Breech dumped the clothes she’d picked up into a laundry basket, "Well, uh... want something to eat? I've got lots of microwavable-" she stopped, and thought, "Why the hell am I trying to be polite to you?"

James chuckled softly and shrugged, “Beats me."

Breech scowled and took off her jacket, revealing the scars on her arms, and hung it on a doorknob, "Why couldn't Robotnik have gotten you to stop with Nack?" She sat down.

James shrugged again, "Maybe its a test of some sort." He looked around the room, and a couple of photographs on a shelf interested him. One was a picture of Breech and Nack in a compromising position, and James looked away from that one quickly. Another was a picture of a rather younger Breech holding a newborn baby... she looked strangely peaceful in that one. He turned away from them quickly and returned his attention to Breech.

But she had already seen him looking, "That's my… my son."

James blinked, "You have a son?" He didn't expect it, but it did explain her reactions in the forest.

"Not any more." Breech looked at her feet.

"...What happened?"

"He... he was taken from me at birth..." Breech looked up, her face breaking into a forced smile, "Robotnik is an equal opportunity employer. He doesn't give anybody maternity leave."

James shivered, feeling like his heart had taken a plunge into his stomach.

Breech looked down again, "He turned eight last month."

James took a seat next to her, feeling sick inside. Robotnik took her son, "I... I'm sorry, Breech...”

Breech barely glanced at him, "Don't be. It's not like you were involved. I'd make a lousy mom anyway."

James shook his head, "You should have at least been given the chance..."

Breech sighed, "I tried to keep him a secret, you know. Wore loose clothes and all that nonsense. But I couldn't hide going into labour in the middle of a mission. My co-workers got me to a hospital, and then they contacted Robotnik. Robotnik offered Nack a price. He accepted."

James eyes widened in shock. He reached over and picked the picture up and looked at it closely, "Nack... sold your son?" As he looked closely at the photo, the baby seemed to have traits that weren't feline... "And he was the father, wasn't he?"

"He would have been taken from me anyway... at least this way I got some money out of it..." Breech's voice was flat and emotionless. She squeezed her eyes shut as if forcing the tears back.

James quickly put the picture back, mostly to keep himself from crushing the frame. His jaw clenched in anger; he wanted nothing more than to literally turn Nack the Weasel inside out at that moment in time. But then he saw Breech struggling with the storm of emotion within her and his anger melted away. He shifted closer to her and tentatively placed an arm around her shoulders. He just hoped she wouldn’t pull it off.

Breech's paws were shaking. She didn’t seem to notice James’ arm at all, "I'm sorry... I don't normally get silly like this... I'll be back in a moment..." she stood and went into the kitchen.

Once hidden in the kitchen, she took a clean needle from a drawer, and took a plastic bag from the biscuit tin. Filling the needle, she inserted it into the crook of her elbow and took her daily dose of Robotnik's slave-drug. Its technical term was R 15-2-15, but its users called it ROBO.

In the living room, the phone started to ring.

James looked at it, and started to walk over to it, when Breech rushed out of the kitchen, a little blood trickling down her arm, and answered it herself.

James backed up, wondering what had happened to her arm.

As Breech stood with the phone silently, James could hear shouting on the other end. Finally, she replied, "Yes, sir. I'll be right there," and replaced the phone on its hook.

James looked at her, "Robotnik?"

Breech nodded, "Uh-huh. Looks like Knothole evacuated in time. Nothing but a panic stricken mess. And I'm being held responsible for not getting back fast enough. I was in charge of the expedition…"

James swallowed, "Oh... damn..."

Breech pulled on her jacket, "Make yourself at home. Have a shower, watch TV, I'll be back in a couple of hours."

James nodded, paused, and walked over to her, patting her gently on the back, "Good luck."

Breech smiled weakly and walked out the door.

~~~

About an hour later, Breech walked back in, wobbling slightly. Her cheek was swelling up and there was blood on her lip. When she took off her jacket, there was also blood from fresh cuts on her shoulders.

James snapped out of his meditative trance, stood up, and hurried over to her, "Gods... what the hell just happened?"

"N-nothing... nothing happened..." Breech whispered, her voice shaking.

James winced at the wounds she had sustained, "That's one helluva nothing. Take a seat... I'll clean up these wounds..."

"NO!” Breech shouted, then returned to flat calmness, “No… I need a shower."

"Alright..." James gave her a worried look as she stumbled towards the shower.

There was no lock on the bathroom door. Nonetheless, Breech stripped off and stepped into the shower, shuddering as she looked at the white mess around her crotch. She turned the water on to an almost scalding temperature, and started to scrub frantically, watching the blood and dirty fluids flow down the drain.

Still feeling dirty, she began to scrub harder, until the cuts on her shoulders opened wider, and more blood flowed down her arms. Finally, she gave up and sank to her knees, the water pouring down on her, and started to cry, the soft whimpers becoming low moans of despair.

Hearing Breech's sobs, James knocked gently on the door and opened it just enough that he could speak with her, "Breech? Are you alright?" he called.

Breech’s voice came from the bathroom, "Go... away!" she sobbed.

James could smell blood - and another smell he couldn’t quite identify - in the air. He wasn't sure what to do, but backed off a little bit. He found himself becoming increasingly worried about his new mercenary companion... which surprised him.

In the bathroom, Breech stood and pulled a towel around her body. She hung a second towel around her shoulders to conceal the cuts, and left the bathroom.

James was sitting on the couch, deep in thought. He looked up at her, but didn't say anything.

"What are you looking at?" Breech's voice trembled, "Never seen a half-naked woman before?"

James blushed noticeably and averted his eyes, embarrassed.

Even as Breech stood there, the blood started to soak through the white towels, and she struggled to cover the patches of crimson as more showed up.

James smelt the blood and looked at Breech again. He could see the spreading red clearly. He stood up and faced her again, "Good gods, Breech... you're bleeding all over the place,” he said, almost angry, “Please, just let me look your wounds over..."

Breech started and backed away from him, "No... It’s nothing! I’m fine! It... It wasn't my fault! I... I didn’t mean to..." Breech stopped, having backed up against the wall.

James stepped forwards quickly and yanked the second towel away. His eyes widened in shock as he looked at the wounds on her arms. Most of them were fresh, and they weren't there before she went into the shower. It looked like... she had scrubbed herself raw. He had never seen anyone do something like that to themselves.

"I... I..." Breech broke into tears, "I'm sorry... I just wanted to get clean..."

James felt like his heart was being torn apart. He was beginning to understand just how hurt she felt inside... On impulse, he disregarded his guardsman training. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a warm, comforting hug. He knew he was getting her blood in his fur, but he found that he didn't care, "Shhh..."

Breech continued to cry, not returning the gesture. She was limp in his arms, her only resistance a shiver... or a shudder.

James picked her up gently, carried her over to the couch, and laid her down on it. He took a small medikit from under his cloak and got to work patching her up.

A little voice in James head whispered, I told you that psycho did it to herself...

James angrily squashed the little voice into oblivion, "You're a mess,” he said quietly as he cleaned the nasty self-inflicted wounds. His words had more than one meaning.

Breech just slumped, "I... I just... It's just something I do - I've done it for years now."

James looked at her, "...Do you really feel that dirty?"

Breech paused, before answering, "...Yes."

James quietly wrapped her arms in bandages. He hesitantly wiped a few tears from her face, unsure of how to react to or help her. Again, he was surprised by his own feelings, "Is it because of what was done to you... or because of what you have done?"

Breech squirmed, "I... sometimes I feel bad... because I know I should feel guilty for what I've done... and I feel like a bad person because I don't feel guilty... and I scrub... But sometimes I... am made to remember things... that have happened to me... and I scrub much harder, because it's then that I really hate myself."

James nodded, knowing what it felt like to feel guilty. He wondered what it must be like inside Breech’s head, that she felt she had to clean herself so thoroughly. He nodded, looking into her face, hoping that some kindness would help a little, "I understand, Breech."

Breech shivered, "How? How can you understand? You don't even know!"

James' gaze became unfocused, as he looked inward at his own past, his voice sounding hauntingly detached, "I was forced to watch my family die from the inside of a glass jar. Slaughtered with my own sword. Everything I had ever cared about, torn apart right in front of me, and I could do nothing to stop it. Nothing."

"Was there anything you could have done to prevent it? Any way you could have stopped it?” asked Breech, “Had you or they done anything to deserve it?”

“No,” said James.

“Then it wasn’t your fault. You have to start again," Breech sighed, "Every time someone knocks you down, it's your duty to get back up and keep going, even if only to show them that they haven't won yet. It's how I keep going."

James blinked, returning his gaze to her, "Yes... you're right. I do have to start again... Maybe you do, too."

Breech smiled, dully, "And who would take me? I'm a merc; it's practically branded on my forehead. No... this is where I belong."

James nodded. Just as being a Royal Guard was his fate. He gently patted her bandaged arm and nodded, "I guess so."

Breech rested her forehead in her fingers, and muttered, "Doesn't mean I like it..."

James’ eyes brightened somewhat, "You could join us. You could help us fight Julian, undo the wrongs that have been done, make a difference."

"No... I'd never be accepted..." Breech fumbled with her tags, "I ruined my own life... I'm a murderer... and these-" she gestured to the scars, "These are my punishment. I deserve them."

James sighed, "I can accept you. And if I can, they will too. You don't have to be punished forever."

Breech looked up, "But I'm... I'm a bad person! I didn't mean for everything to go wrong, but it did, and I... I don't understand... I don't understand why you're being so... decent."

James wondered how many people had ever treated her kindly... "You can't be too bad if that is what you believe. And I think you deserve a second chance."

Breech slouched, looking unconvinced. Suddenly, there was a banging at the door.

James patted her on the arm, "Stay here. I'll get it."

He got up and walked towards the door, his body language changing as he slipped into his bounty hunter persona. He opened the door. Nack was standing there, and he grabbed James by the throat and dragged him out into the corridor.

James glared at him, "What do you want?"

"Listen up, 'Stone'," Nack snarled, "You leave Breech alone, ya hear me? She's been fucked around by enough Royal Guard scum and she doesn't need her life ruining again, you hear me?"

With a fury that surprised even himself, James yanked Nack's paws off of his throat and smashed him across the muzzle. Snarling, James picked the weasel up and lifted him off the ground, "It doesn't seem that you've been too terribly kind to her either. If you ever harm her again, or lay your hands on me, I will put you through pain that you can't imagine. First, I'll tear your fingers off. Then your toes. Your hands, your feet... and I'll continue tearing you apart, piece by fucking piece, until there is nothing left. Understood?"

"What... are you talking about?" Nack gasped, "I treat her... well enough..."

James pulled Nack close, their noses practically touching, and snarled, "Selling her son into slavery is treating her well, right?"

"What? She... told you? He'd have taken Keith anyway... at least this way... we got a choice what he did... and money…"

"She had a picture of a newborn feline/weasel hybrid in her room. I connected the dots. Can you tell me where he is, you piece of shit?"

"He's a scientist... genetic modifications... 300+ IQ... biology division..."

"Where?!"

"Don't know where... On my honour as a-" Nack saw the look on James' face, "Korriban... he was sent to Korriban right after he was born..."

James noticed that Nack was starting to turn blue underneath his fur, and dropped him to the floor, "I should kill you... but I won't. Get out of my sight. Now."

"I'd have made a lousy dad anyway..." Nack muttered, standing. He turned to look at James, "I seen the way you look at her. And you can't even begin to understand what she's been through... so keep your evil Royal Guard paws offa her, or I will waste you."

"Go to hell," James went back into Breech's room and shut the door behind him.

Nack glared at the slammed door, “It takes more’n one person to sign a contract, Prower!” he shouted through the door, and walked away, furious at himself that he couldn’t do anything.

Breech looked up at James, "Who was that?"

"It was just Nack," James took a seat across from her.

"Oh... he usually comes to check on me after a mission. If it's been successful, we... celebrate." Breech smiled slightly, "If not... well, he's probably drunk by this time. You're kinda in on his territory here. Did he shout much?"

James smiled grimly, "I didn't let him... He thought I’d crumble if he threatened me."

"He threatened you?" Breech chuckled, "Nack only threatens people when he means it, so you might want to watch your back."

James nodded, “I'm not afraid of him," his expression softened, "It’s been a long day... I think some sleep would do both of us a lot of good."

Breech stood up, still clutching the towel tightly and shrinking away from James, "You can sleep on the sofa... I'll take my bed."

James nodded quietly, and took her place on the couch, sighing softly, "...I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

Breech just shrugged, and went into her bedroom. James heard the sound of something heavy being pushed against the door. He shivered and wrapped his cloak around him tighter. As usual, he wouldn't get much peaceful sleep.

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End Of Chapter Nine

Harley: Ow! Fuck it, Esp, you didn’t have to make it a crowbar- Ow! Not the damn brass knuckles… Shit! Next chapter had better be written by Froggy, cause I don’t think I’ll be capable…

Espio: Of fucking breathing!

Harley: Ow! Shit that hurts – damn!