t_vos_fics (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
t_vos_fics) wrote2010-02-08 05:37 pm
t_vos_fics) wrote2010-02-08 05:37 pm
Entry tags:
FIC: Sometimes You Hear The Bullet Coming (The Russian Assassins Remix)
Remix of Sometimes You Hear the Bullet by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rinkle and Sometimes You Hear the Bullet (The Execution Style Remix) by emmademarais
Challenge: Bullet
Title: Sometimes You Hear the Bullet (The Russian Assassins Remix)
Pairing/Characters: Charlie
Rating/Category: PG13
Word Count: 300
Spoilers: BackScatter, Hangman
Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its characters do not belong to me. If they did, there would be more kissing.
Summary: No one even knows Charlie's in danger
Author Notes and Thanks: Please see first comment below.
Drops of sweat trickle down his cheeks, mingling with silent tears. He shakes with fear so intense his hands won’t stay in place behind his head. Kneeling down, Charlie feels the cold bite into his knees as they grind into the cement floor with the force of his tremors.
He flinches at the snap of his chalk under the heavy boot of his assassin, audible over convulsive breaths and desperate pleas.
No blindfolds. No restraints. A very bad sign. When he first glanced over his shoulder, he expected Amita or Don, maybe Larry. Not the cold eyes of two men they had previously arrested. Not the enforcers of the Russian mob.
A gun cocks behind his head, preternaturally loud, and panic rises up from the very bowels of the earth and flows into his body. Charlie doesn’t recognize the mewling sounds falling from his own lips.
No one even knows he’s in danger. It’s just another Saturday at his beloved boards. Amita is shopping for wedding gowns. His father and brother are golfing and not due back for another hour.
There will be no daring last minute rescue. No spark of inspiration or clever calculations to help him escape unharmed. Charlie chokes, imagining his father’s face, aghast and ravaged by the sight of his worst nightmare lying on the garage floor.
Maybe he can stall, improve the odds that someone he knows with a gun and badge will drop by at this very moment.
The gun’s muzzle is cold and hard against the back of his head.
There is no more time. He won’t die cowering; he has nothing to lose by fighting back.
Charlie closes his eyes, shudders, and steels himself to act. At least Don will know that he didn't go quietly.
There is a bang and a body falls.
rinkle and Sometimes You Hear the Bullet (The Execution Style Remix) by emmademarais Challenge: Bullet
Title: Sometimes You Hear the Bullet (The Russian Assassins Remix)
Pairing/Characters: Charlie
Rating/Category: PG13
Word Count: 300
Spoilers: BackScatter, Hangman
Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its characters do not belong to me. If they did, there would be more kissing.
Summary: No one even knows Charlie's in danger
Author Notes and Thanks: Please see first comment below.
Drops of sweat trickle down his cheeks, mingling with silent tears. He shakes with fear so intense his hands won’t stay in place behind his head. Kneeling down, Charlie feels the cold bite into his knees as they grind into the cement floor with the force of his tremors.
He flinches at the snap of his chalk under the heavy boot of his assassin, audible over convulsive breaths and desperate pleas.
No blindfolds. No restraints. A very bad sign. When he first glanced over his shoulder, he expected Amita or Don, maybe Larry. Not the cold eyes of two men they had previously arrested. Not the enforcers of the Russian mob.
A gun cocks behind his head, preternaturally loud, and panic rises up from the very bowels of the earth and flows into his body. Charlie doesn’t recognize the mewling sounds falling from his own lips.
No one even knows he’s in danger. It’s just another Saturday at his beloved boards. Amita is shopping for wedding gowns. His father and brother are golfing and not due back for another hour.
There will be no daring last minute rescue. No spark of inspiration or clever calculations to help him escape unharmed. Charlie chokes, imagining his father’s face, aghast and ravaged by the sight of his worst nightmare lying on the garage floor.
Maybe he can stall, improve the odds that someone he knows with a gun and badge will drop by at this very moment.
The gun’s muzzle is cold and hard against the back of his head.
There is no more time. He won’t die cowering; he has nothing to lose by fighting back.
Charlie closes his eyes, shudders, and steels himself to act. At least Don will know that he didn't go quietly.
There is a bang and a body falls.