InsaneJournal

The Inevitable
Characters: Meg, Susanna, Brady, Ryan, and Jason
Setting: Spiritual room and balcony just outside it, evening

It had been difficult to contain her anticipation throughout the day, but somehow Susanna had done so. Her conversation with Reece had had no real affect on her. She had her plan, and she was quite confident that it would be successful. After tonight, she would have her revenge on Meg, and whatever consequences might come of it would be worth it, especially if things went down the way she was hoping. She’d taken a small knife from the kitchen, made a makeshift sheath for it so that she could keep it in an almost hidden pocket of her dress, and then took the snacks and a book with her up to Ryan’s room.

They often spent a lot of time in her room, but it didn’t hurt to change things up. The cameras being down was such perfect timing, though without knowing if it included audio surveillance, they’d been careful with their plotting. They had managed to work out a general plan for him to keep the patrol away from the spiritual room while she took care of Meg, though. And when the time had come for him to join Brady for patrol, she’d given him a careful kiss, mentally cursing her broken nose and Meg for doing it to her, and then settled on his couch next to the window, wincing at the pain in her stomach.

Although Meg had made her mind up hours ago about going to meet the person who had messaged her, that didn’t stop her feel apprehensive as she headed up to the spiritual room. She had debated about telling someone what she was doing, the message hadn’t forbidden that despite its instruction to come alone, but the thought that they might talk her out of going or attempt to accompany her and send her anonymous informant back into their hiding place had stopped her. The increasing humidity that had earlier seemed so comforting had grown oppressive as the evening drew in and did little to sooth her as she walked along the second floor balcony and she had to take a moment to stop and breathe before heading inside.

As was so often the case when she was nervous or upset, she began twisting her wedding ring though for once it wasn’t the only talisman of sorts she had with her; her QR bracelet that Brady had brought back to her, finished with a knot she didn’t recognise was on one wrist, Mojo’s letter sat tucked into the back pocket of her shorts and she was wearing the shirt Kyle had decorated for her. All small things really but in lieu of actually being able to have one of them there with her, it was a comforting reminder to have as she walked into the spiritual room and took a seat.

Because she’d been watching from Ryan’s window, Susanna saw Meg go into the spiritual room alone, but she still waited, continuing to watch to make sure the younger girl didn’t have someone following a bit after her. She had no intention of giving Meg the information she was apparently still looking for, though who knows, maybe she would tell her just as the girl died. It could be a wonderful way to twist the knife, figuratively and -what the hell, why not?- literally too. She was positively tingling in anticipation.

It was nearly ten minutes past the hour when Susanna ventured from Ryan’s room. She was still wearing the same dress from earlier, mostly because it didn’t press against her wound much and still gave her plenty range of movement. The knife was still tucked away in her pocket, in the makeshift sheath, and she truly couldn’t wait to use it. It had been so long... But soon. Her short trip to the spiritual room was uninterrupted, and as she walked it, she appeared to pay no attention to anyone else who might be in there, though she was very aware of precisely where Meg was in the room.

Susanna went directly to one cabinet, opening it and looking for candles, which was her excuse for coming in here now. It seemed that the candles had been pilfered already though. Too bad, it would have been nice to have some candlelight tonight when Ryan returned from his patrol. She closed the cabinet door with a sigh, turned, and then started as if just realizing Meg was there. “Oh, it’s you,” she said with clear distaste.

Patience couldn’t be listed among Meg’s qualities on the best of days so the ten minute wait on top of what were already frayed nerves had her practically crawling out of her skin as she forced herself to stay in the room, pacing back and forth as she waited. When she finally heard footsteps outside, she turned towards the door, the words ‘about time’ ready at her lips only for them to falter on the sight of Susanna and it took what little composure Meg had to not let out a scream of frustration then and there. Of all the people that could possibly walk in at the worst possible time, it had to be her. The only small consolation to be had was that Susanna hadn’t apparently noticed her and Meg was all too happy for that to remain the case, pulling further into the corner hoping to avoid being seen. Of course she wasn’t that lucky and instead found herself the focus of Susanna’s attention as the woman turned around, muttering a curse under her breath as she did so.

“Yeah it’s me,” she replied, biting back the urge to react to the tone in Susanna’s voice. Oh she wanted to but if she had a hope of getting rid of the older woman quickly less her informant arrive and think she’d broken the terms of their meeting, she knew she couldn’t get drawn into another spat and so forced her voice to stay as neutral and polite as she could manage. “And I’m kinda waitin’ for someone so if yer done lookin’ for whatever it is you’re lookin’ for, do ya mind...?”

It took all of Susanna’s self control to let none of the humor she felt show on her face. She could imagine just how tightly wound the girl was, not knowing who she’d fucked, so close to getting the answer she so desperately wanted. Her expression showed none of it, merely annoyance. Clearly Meg had no idea that she was the one she was supposed to be meeting, and the last thing Susanna wanted to do was tip her off to that just yet. Her head tilted slightly. “Meeting someone, hmm? In the spiritual room, let’s see... Perhaps you’re finally getting some much needed therapy?” she guessed. “Trying to find a way to cope with knowing it’s all your fault Dommy-dearest is gone?” It wasn’t about goading Meg into attacking her. No, she just wanted to fuck with her head a bit, though she was prepared should Meg make a move toward her.

“It’s none of ya god damn business why I’m here,” Meg shot back, politeness abandoning her for all that she managed to keep her voice mostly level, shoving her hands into her pockets less she wind up using them. “Now can ya please leave.”

Oh, well she was just no fun today, was she. Shame. Susanna would have to up her game, she supposed. “I could, but we never did finish our conversation the other day, did we? Now, I’ve given it a lot of thought, and there’s only one thing I can really think of for what you could have done that they would have removed Dominic for. So, who’d you fuck, Meg?” she asked, her tone very nearly taking on an giddy girl-talk tone.

Through the thin material of her pockets, Meg’s nails dug into the skin of her thighs and she forced herself to take a step backwards, colliding with the cabinets behind her as a dark red flush rose on her cheeks. “I didn’t fuck anyone!” she said, teeth gritted, the administrator's message forcing itself to the front of her mind where she tried desperately to ignore it.

Susanna got quite a lot of pleasure from seeing Meg collide with the cabinets, and she couldn’t stop the amusement from showing on her face. “You didn’t?” she asked doubtfully. She continued on without waiting for a response, though. “Now why don’t I believe that? I heard you fighting with Dominic in the courtyard the day before they removed him. Trouble in paradise - what better payback, what better way to punish him than to fuck someone else? It’s like buyer’s remorse - just because you wish you hadn’t done it doesn’t mean you didn’t do it in the first place.” Her tone had definitely slipped into patronizing, a small, knowing smirk playing about her lips.

Of course for all that Susanna was playing with her, she had no way of knowing that she had echoed the very words Meg’s was trying so hard to forget and that hearing them aloud was like a slap in the face. “That’s not what happened!” Meg snapped, voice climbing in volume. Her statement was somewhat undone however by the glimmer of doubt that shone through her eyes and for all the conviction in her tone, there was no disguising the slight wobble of her bottom lip. “You don’t know anythin’!”

“Oh, it isn’t?” she questioned with a raised brow. That look in Meg’s eyes excited Susanna, and she wished absently that Ryan was here to see it. He would enjoy it, she thought. She took a few steps forward, bringing her closer to Meg though there was still plenty of distance between them. “And what if I do? What if I know exactly what you did, how you moaned and held onto him. Did you scratch your nails down his back? I could see you being a scratcher,” she said musingly, raising a hand to the healing scratch marks on her own face.

Even through the swirl of her own emotions, Meg could see that Susanna was enjoying herself, just like she had back in the activity room, and her eyes narrowed. “You’re a liar, why the hell should I believe anything you have to say?” she said, standing a little taller as she let her anger fuel her words, righteous fury so much easier to focus on than her own guilt . “I’m not gonna stand here and just let you try and fuck with my head cause you get off on it ya fuckin’ sadist.”

Did she really need to filter herself now? The cameras were down, and even if they weren’t, the administration knew that she was aware of Ryan and Meg’s... encounter, and Meg would be dead soon enough anyway. Susanna waited to speak until Meg finished, not bothering to disagree that she was getting off on this. “You were drunk,” she said simply, her lips stretching up in a knowing smile.

It was three little words but they were enough to make Meg freeze in place, rage doused as if by a torrent of cold water. Part of her still couldn’t accept it though, that Susanna might be telling the truth, might actually know something, and it was that which made her take a step towards her. “I’d had a lot to drink that day, plenty of folk knew that,” she said, wishing she sounded more confident and hating that she didn’t, that Susanna of all people had her feeling that way.

It was almost pathetically cute the way Meg seemed to be hellbent on not believing that she knew. If Susanna was capable of it, she might have even felt bad for the girl. She didn’t though; Meg was the idiot that had brought this on herself. “And do plenty of people know that you went down to the laundry room to sleep? That that’s where you fucked him?” Her hands went to her pockets, and she rocked a bit on her feet, her fingers curling around the hilt of her knife.

Meg turned pale and a wave of nausea rolled through her, forcing her to close her eyes for a moment, one hand reaching back for the wall behind her in an attempt to stay on her feet. “You’re the one who messaged me aren’t ya?” she said, the crushing realisation bringing her voice down to barely above a whisper.

Oh, but she wanted to smile, to laugh, to let every bit of her amusement at the situation to show through, but she wanted to mess with Meg just a little more. Susanna frowned just a bit at the question, her brows furrowing and head tilting. “Messaged you? No, I didn’t message you,” she answered, tone questioning. She would love to make Meg think even more people knew just what had happened and weren’t telling her about it.

The denial had Meg’s eyes snapping open to focus on Susanna, brows coming together in confusion. “Well someone did ‘n’ if it wasn’t you...” She trailed off, possibilities spinning through her mind, and sank back against the wall. “No, no, no. This is too convenient, you just showin’ up here exactly when I was told to meet someone then you start on about Dom, givin’ me that look of yours....I ain’t as fuckin’ stupid as you think Susanna. You know somethin’, you tell me. Just stop fuckin’ me around alright?”

Susanna wanted Meg to think, to question every possibility of who else might know. As Meg sank against the wall, she started toward her, expression morphing into something almost sympathetic as she went. Her hands were still in her pockets, fingers wrapped around the hilt of her knife, and she bent just a bit to be on eye level with the younger girl. “Look Meg, yes, I do know something. I know that it’s your own damn fault it happened. What kind of idiot drinks heavily and then goes to sleep in a public place in a facility full of cons?” She gave her a faint smile then, reaching out to tug one wild curl with the hand that wasn’t holding her knife. “But he shouldn’t have done it. So, if you really want to know, I’ll tell you.”

Although she wanted to pull back from the touch, with her back already to the wall, there was nowhere for Meg to go and she didn’t want to risk the fragile peace currently between them and lose her chance at answers by slapping Susanna’s hand away so instead she endured. There was no controlling the way her eyes darkened however or disguising the tightening of her jaw before she spoke. “Yeah, I do really wanna know.”

It was probably cruel of her to toy with Meg like this, but Susanna really was enjoying herself, so it was just fine. Her free hand moved higher to rest on the wall just above Meg’s right shoulder, and she leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You fucked Ryan,” she whispered, and without hesitating, she brought her other hand out and up, knife grasped in it. She brought it down hard, sinking the blade into Meg’s left shoulder, punctuating her next words. “And you liked it.” She pulled the knife out and stood up in one swift motion, walking backward to the exit.

Meg didn’t even have a second to process the name, any attempt to try and place it to a face shattered as pain shot through her shoulder, Susanna’s blade tearing through scar tissue to open a fresh wound where less than a year ago a police officer’s bullet had ripped it’s own path. There wasn’t time to do anything else, more words in her ear barely registering before the knife was tugged free and she sank towards the ground, feebly attempting to reach forward and catch hold of Susanna’s dress only to find her just out of reach.

The cry sent a thrill through Susanna, and she chuckled at the feeble attempt to grab her, taking another step back. “Oh, you are truly pathetic,” she said, voice dripping with amusement. Moving quickly so that she was standing behind Meg, she grabbed her by the hair with her left hand and pulled her up, the exertion sending pain through her stomach that she stubbornly ignored. “Have you given much thought to how you’d like to die?” she murmured in the blonde’s ear, bringing the knife up to her throat.

She might have been no stranger to the sight of her own blood but watching it seep into the pale fabric of her shirt and start to obliterate the glitter Kyle had spent so much care on applying sent a flash of rage through Meg that cut through the pain for a moment even as she was hauled to her feet and she felt the kiss of cool metal against her skin. It wasn’t much but it gave her a second to think as the older woman spoke and that was enough for her to have an idea. “More than you’ll ever fucking know,” she muttered and with a grunt of effort, jabbed her left elbow back so that it collided with Susanna’s stomach, blinking back tears as the move sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through her arm. “And it sure as hell ain’t gonna be because of you.”

As the elbow punched into her stomach, Susanna let out a pained shriek, tears forming immediately in her eyes though her fingers only tightened in Meg’s hair. The knife nicked Meg’s throat as she jerked and gave Meg a hard push forward to the floor. Needing to get some kind of revenge for that jab to her stomach in particular, Susanna brought her foot down hard on Meg’s injured shoulder. “We’ll see about that, you bitch.” So many different ways she could kill her with the knife, but Susanna was leaning toward something quick now, as much as she would love to take her time. She didn’t have anything with her to restrain Meg, and the last thing she wanted was for someone to walk in on them. And she did so wish that she could share this kill with Ryan. She rather thought he would enjoy it. Ah well, needs must.

Even with a pain threshold built up over years of abuse, there was a limit to what Meg could handle and so when Susanna stamped down on her, forcing the mess that was her shoulder to grind against the unyielding ground, she wasn’t ashamed of the fact that she screamed. Left arm laying useless beside her, she lashed out with her right, not putting any specific thought behind what she was doing, just trying to get Susanna off her as quickly as possible and get away.

Fuck. While the scream was like music to her ears, it did remind Susanna that anyone could come upon them at any time, and she could only count on Ryan keeping Brady away for so long. Damn, she’d better make this quick, then. Meg’s hand that lashed out did manage to hit her leg, and Susanna narrowed her eyes as she stepped on that hand. She knelt down, hissing out a breath at the way pain shot through her stomach again. It just infuriated her further, and she swung the knife toward Meg’s back.

Even if Meg had seen the knife coming, as she was effectively pinned to the floor there was no way for her to avoid it and she let out another cry as metal once again parted fabric to slice into skin, a long shallow gash that quickly began to weep blood opening up in the knifes wake. In a last ditch attempt to get free, she threw her weight towards Susanna and let the momentum pull her over, hissing as the fresh wound on her back collided with her attacker’s legs and forcing her back a few steps. Rolling back onto her front, Meg made no attempt to look back, instead forcing herself up into a crawling position and attempted to head for the door even as her vision began to blur.

The attempt at throwing her off was successful, and it knocked the wind out of her as Susanna fell back, crying out in pain. Blood was dripping from the knife, soaking the hand that held it, splattering over her arms and dress. It was like revisiting an old friend, and she wanted nothing more than to sink the knife into Meg’s pale skin over and over like she’d done to her husband. Meg was crawling away, though, and well, she just couldn’t have that. “Tsk tsk, where do you think you’re going, trying to take my fun away?” she taunted as she struggled to her feet, the adrenaline and excitement of what she was trying to do enough to get her up and propel her forward. She didn’t get to Meg before the girl got to the door, unfortunately, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her.

It had been a long time since Meg had felt genuinely scared by another person but as Susanna’s taunt rang through the room, an all too familiar feeling of fear crept over her and she tried to move that little bit faster, battling the pain and dizziness that wanted to stop her in her tracks and trying to ignore the blood that was running down her arm to drip on the floor beneath her. She was just over the threshold when her uninjured arm gave out beneath her and her face crashed to the unforgiving concrete of the balcony, adding another note of pain to those already screaming through her body.

Damn it, she really hadn’t wanted this to go outside the spiritual room, but there was no way around that now. Susanna did take great joy out of seeing Meg collapse on the balcony, and it was like a flashing neon sign: EASY PREY! KILL ME NOW! And she was more than happy to oblige. She didn’t hesitate to descend upon Meg, knife swinging down, a fierce almost primal expression on her face. There was nothing else that had any hope of pushing into her awareness in that moment, and it was because of that that she had no idea what was happening when something ran into her, pushing her knife off course so that it jammed into Meg’s other shoulder. Before she was pulled off, she did manage to twist the knife in flesh and muscle, feeling incredibly satisfied at knowing she’d done some damage even if she hadn’t managed precisely what she’d intended.

There was only so long that Brady could be kept away from the second floor, and he emerged from stairwell next to the library with Ryan just in time to see Meg crawl out of the spiritual room with Susanna on her heels. “What the fuck?!” he cursed, taking off in a run without hesitation. He didn’t get there soon enough, he could tell that right away, but it wasn’t too late, either. There was so much blood, it churned his stomach even as his instincts kicked in. He rammed into Susanna, throwing her aim off. Grabbing her, he spun and literally threw her, not caring where she landed, not even noticing when she hit the balcony and the momentum threw her over the rail. Her scream went unheard as he was immediately focused on Meg. “Fuck. Meg, you conscious?” he asked with concern as his fingers pressed gently over her, trying to take stock of her injuries. He wanted to take the knife out, but he couldn’t be sure that wouldn’t do more damage at this point.

Ryan had done a good and very vague job of keeping Brady moving on the first floor, not going to the second for as long as they could without him dragging his feet too noticeably. He hoped that Susanna had done what they’d planned and gotten the hell out of there already, but as he came through the door behind Brady, he snarled to himself to see that Meg had fucked things up. Again. Little bitch was good at that.

He rushed after Brady, but the other man had the lead on him, and the ex-military con reached Susanna before he could get to her. He lunged automatically after her. She was the only person in this godforsaken place he could stand to be around, and possibly the first person he’d gotten to know who he actually cared to be around for any length of time. As much as Ryan could actually connect with another person, he connected with her. His fingertips just grazed the hem of her dress as he tried to grab her, but she was already too far over for him to catch. His own momentum nearly carried him over the edge as well, and he ooomphed as he hit the railing.

Rage infused the man. He had only been angry to the edge of loss of control a couple of times in his life. It was not something that happened, with him. The last time had been the night he’d killed Sydney when she threatened to tell what he’d been doing with her. He pushed away from the rail, snarling, and in one lunging move he strode forward and drew his leg back, using his forward momentum to swing it forward and kicked the other man hard. He didn’t speak, didn’t shout to give warning. When Ryan became violent, he became quietly, intensely, explosively violent - usually to some major damage of the other person.

Susanna’s final attack had ripped another scream from Meg’s lungs and her shoulders felt like twin suns, burning white hot with pain that only seemed to increase every time she tried to breathe in. Inspite of that, she had managed to turn her head towards Brady when he spoke to her, letting out a faint whimper at his touch gentle as it was. Her new position also meant she had full view of Ryan when he turned towards them but the only warning she could give Brady was a widening of her eyes before Ryan booted him and sent him crashing down onto her, the pain of him colliding with her wounded back dragging her right to the brink of unconsciousness.

As focused as he’d been on Meg, Brady had no way of predicting that Ryan would turn any kind of rage on him. He wasn’t thinking of anything but finding a way to help her, so when he was kicked, it took him completely by surprise, and there was no way to avoid it. Crashing down onto Meg couldn’t be good for her, the thought registered in some corner of his mind as he let out a groan on an expelled breath of air. He rolled toward Meg’s legs and pushed up quickly, eyes flashing as he turned toward Ryan. “What the fuck is your goddamn problem?!” he shouted as his hands swung out to push the other man.

“You threw her over the fucking balcony,” Ryan yelled back, not backing off but pushing in, not willing to let go of his momentum especially since back meant the balcony and he was not going over it like Susanna had done. He thrust one shoulder forward, angling himself as less of a target even as he drew his arm back to punch Brady. His eyes flashed, cold and dangerous and utterly unfeeling other than for what he wanted. He was not the picture of nice guy he’d been presenting all day. He had no idea for sure if Susanna was alive or not, surviving it was possible, but assumptions were generally for the worst. “You killed her!” He pounded his fist in, not intent on any kind of mercy or holding back.

Brady resisted, barely, rolling his eyes, though he did give Ryan an incredulous look. “No, I threw her away from Meg, who she was trying to kill,” he bit out, and anything else he might have said was forgotten as the fist flew toward him. Shifting, he nearly avoided the shot altogether, although it did graze his cheek. He moved with the punch and ducked low to ram Ryan with his shoulder, wanting to bring him down and restrain him, though it pained him to consider doing that rather than just pounding him with his fists.

Ryan pivoted to the side, not avoiding the body blow but rather letting it skim along his back and the man’s forward momentum carry him forward while Ryan’s knee lifted for a blow to Brady’s stomach. He whirled and followed it up with a strong punch to the back, low, where it would hurt more than up higher. He wasn’t pulling any punches; he didn’t want to capture the man, he would much prefer to see him dead. Brady’s life meant nothing to him. With Susanna either dead or severely injured, he really didn’t care at the moment about blending in, but about getting revenge for the one person who had made it bearable to behave.

There was no room for guilt or regret over Susanna falling over the balcony, not with the knee ramming into his stomach and the fist punching his back. And just like that, it was like a switch flipped in him and all of Brady’s training kicked in. He got just far enough away from Ryan to right himself before he was going after him again. There were a couple swings before he finally landed a blow, his fist ramming into Ryan’s face, his other fist punching his stomach.

Ryan kept pressing toward Brady, not enough to get taken into a hold by the man, but enough to keep his longer reach from being a real advantage. He’d not ever been trained in one way of fighting, but what he did know was generally dirty and effective. Ryan grunted and took the hit, pushing away pain as he rammed his knee up again and slammed inside Brady’s reach to swing an elbow hard into the man’s face. His fist of his other hand drew back and threw another punch as he quietly and fiercely fought the other man.

The elbow to his face sent him reeling for a moment, but when the fist pounded against his flesh, it triggered a fierce survival instinct in Brady that went far beyond his training. Ryan was clearly someone who knew what he was doing, and he could guess that the guy had been in his fair share of prison fights. Well, so had Brady, and there was no way he was going down. He’d survived way too much to let a punk like Ryan take him down. If he was going out, it was going to be on his terms and no one elses. He pushed in fast and hard, fists swinging in a practiced and efficient manner, landing blow after blow, using the momentum from the blows that came his way to advance his own attack. “You’re fucking with the wrong person, Ryan,” he bit out as he attacked, breath not completely steady from his exertion. He was composed and focused, though, not quite winded yet.

As the two men fought around her, Meg was fighting to stay awake but it was no avail, everything around her growing muted and dark as the ground beneath her became damp with her own blood. Somehow though the name ‘Ryan’ pierced through the fog and for a brief moment her eyes widened as she stared up into what she now knew to be the face of the man who had fucked her. “It was you,” she said, voice hoarse from her earlier screams and trembling with the effort it took to speak. “In the laundry room. You did it...” And with that last bit of exertion, everything went black as Meg’s body finally gave in and she slipped into the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness.

“Fuck you,” Ryan grunted out. At this point, he was committed. If he left Brady alive to tell his side of it, he was up the creek without a paddle. If he killed or incapacitated the man where he wouldn’t immediately be able to tell his side, Ryan could make up a lie and stick to it. GIven the current lack of witnesses and what happened, he could maybe pull it off, though a lot of people might not believe him.

He grunted as he took the punishment Brady was dealing out, but his fists kept flashing out too, dealing out a good deal of damage of their own. He ignored the pain, finding it secondary to his survival at the moment, though he’d pay for it later. He lunged forward, taking a hard blow just so he could get inside Brady’s leverage, his leg attempting to hook around Brady’s so he could pull the other man to the ground if he could. Barring that, he’d slam the man against the wall and try to beat his head in. He utterly ignored Meg on the ground, not even giving a fuck about her right now. By all rights she should be dead by now.

Compartmentalizing was something that Brady had had plenty of practice doing. So while he was aware of the pain as Ryan landed blows, he locked it away where it couldn’t keep him from his task. Although Ryan didn’t pay any attention to Meg, her words spoken in that weak, hoarse voice slipped through Brady’s focus and distracted him, giving Ryan the opening he needed to take him down. As he fell to the ground, what Meg had said processed in his mind, and he saw red. The fury he felt in that moment consumed him so that there was nothing but the fierce need to make the rapist pay. He didn’t give two shits about what the administration said - it didn’t matter how you dressed it up, Meg had been raped.

Brady hit the ground hard, landing a mere foot from Meg, and without any focus on his own survival as Ryan descended upon him, he flung one hand out to pull the knife out of Meg, some small part of the back of his mind praying that he wasn’t doing more damage to her and that they’d be able to patch her up. It was only his single-minded focus that kept him from blacking out, the need to make the man pay for what he’d done. He pulled his arm in and jabbed the knife hard into the front of Ryan’s right side, pushing it in all the way to the hilt.

Ryan purposefully went down right on top of him, using his weight to drive him to the ground and hopefully knock the wind out of him. He straddled Brady’s torso, bouncing on him hard once in an effort to drive out the air from the other man even as he punched the man in the face with his not-insubstantial strength.

His hands had just found Brady’s neck to strangle him when an intense pain flared through even his wall of unfeeling detachment, making him gasp. He looked down to see a knife sticking out of his side, blood already starting to slide around the hilt. “You mother-fucking dead man,” he hissed in a dangerous voice.

Ryan slammed his head down into Brady’s as he tried to push up, then grabbed the knife from his own side, ignoring as best he could the uneasy, wrenching feeling that gave him. One hand grabbed the other man’s neck as the other slammed the knife down into Brady’s shoulder.

He would strangle the life out of this fucking interfering asshole. He didn’t realize immediately that the slow slide of blood loss was already happening and that something was damaged inside, that his grip would grow weaker progressively in the next few minutes. For now, he was still utterly focussed on trying to do in the man who had stabbed him and was ignoring the fact that his own body might fail without his permission.

For all that Brady had been through, he had never actually been choked. Beaten to within an inch of his life? Sure, but hands around his throat? Nope, never happened before this moment. His eyes widened as fear and a fierce desire to survive flooded through him. The hand that wasn’t pushing the blade into Ryan’s stomach came up to grab at the hands that went around his neck. There was no fucking way he was going out like this.

There was some small, absent part of his mind that processed the hot flow of blood seeping into his shirt, though he couldn’t even begin to process what it meant because Ryan’s head slammed into his, and then the knife was swinging down into his shoulder. It burned like a motherfucker, and a strangled cry sounded into the night as he fought to stay conscious. Pulling in breath was a constant struggle.

Brady knew he had to do something, that his time was running out. It went against his instincts, but he removed his hands from the ones around his neck, fingers curling into fists. He swung as hard as he could, his fists punching into both of Ryan’s sides, feeling the sick slide of blood over his left hand. The exertion irritated his still-burning shoulder, the knife still sticking out of it. He needed to get Ryan off of him. He needed... The world was starting to go black, but he just kept fighting, clinging to consciousness desperately.

When Ryan had joined up with Brady for their patrol, Jason had taken the opportunity to take something of a break. He had been watching Ryan for hours now, so he had headed straight for the cafeteria, wanting to get some food and some water. It had been a bit of a relief; things had been mind-numbingly boring so far. He knew he shouldn’t complain. After all, it was better than the alternative. Still he had enjoyed the downtime, enjoyed the food, because he had been starving. It did occur to him though that he didn’t know how long the two of them were scheduled to patrol, and the last thing he wanted was for Ryan to slip away from Brady before he could find him again. Still, he reasoned that the patrol had to be at least a couple of hours, as it always was, probably more given the lack of cameras, so he wasn’t in any real hurry. He took his time, enjoying his dinner and then ran by his room for a little bit. However, once he made his way outside again to look for the two men, it was obvious that there was a very big problem.

There was a body on the ground and a whole lot of blood. Had the sight of movement not caught his eye, he probably would have frozen at that. But shit, there was some sort of struggle going on upstairs. And God damn it, the body could wait; he didn’t even know if they were still alive, but the people upstairs were, for now. That had to take priority. Jason took off running for the stairs, not entirely sure what was going on, but knowing that it needed to be stopped. Now. At the top of the stairs, he took only a second to take in what he could. There was a woman, unconscious or dead he didn’t know, and blood everywhere. And Ryan and Brady, both covered in blood, and Ryan had his hands wrapped around Brady’s throat. He had a split second to think to himself that obviously, he shouldn’t have assumed that Brady would be okay alone with Ryan, before he was moving with a single purpose in mind. Get Ryan the hell away from Brady.

Had he thought the whole thing through, Jason might have taken a more cautious approach, but as it was, his temper was bubbling, and it was only his confusion about what the hell was happening that kept him from going off on Ryan. It wasn’t graceful, and later, Jason would go through all the more efficient ways he knew to take someone out, and wonder why he hadn’t done something else, but he simply dropped his shoulder and tackled Ryan, throwing all his weight behind his shoulder as he slammed into the other man’s side, knocking him off of Brady and to the ground.

Ryan wasn't fighting by sight so much as by feel because the pain was all consuming in his side as he gasped. He held on by sheer force of will, doing his damnedest to strangle the life out of Brady before the other man made him pass out. His vision was a field of red stars and the pain intense, raising heat. He could only hear his own pulse and breathing and the lack of breath sounds from Brady which thrilled him.

So fuzzy was his consciousness and his attention so firmly on winning that Ryan didn't hear anyone else arrive until Jason slammed into him. He could not help the strangled scream of pain as incandescent heat seared through him from the site of the stab wound. For a moment he clung to consciousness, flailing weakly toward Brady, but the person on top of him moved, and despite his will, his body couldn't handle it anymore and his eyes rolled back as he went limp with a groan, curled protectively around his wound though he didn't know it.

Brady was on the verge of losing consciousness, his punches growing weaker with every passing moment, his vision blurring. God damn it, he’d given plenty of thought to how he wanted to die, and a punk ass rapist choking the life out of him definitely hadn’t been up for consideration. He was just about to go under when he felt rather than saw Ryan being tackled off of him. The motion had Ryan’s hands pulling at his throat before it was finally released, and Brady danced with unconsciousness for a few moments before forcing his eyes up with little more than sheer determination.

It took a few more moments for the fog in his eyes to lift enough to make out Jason pinning Ryan’s limp form to the ground. With much effort and a loud groan, Brady reached up to pull the knife out of his shoulder, bright lights clouding his vision as he did so. Fuck, that hurt like a bitch. There were things that he had to do now, and he couldn’t let the pain consume him. Not yet. He pushed himself up to sit, not feeling quite steady enough to stand yet, and reached behind him for the pair of handcuffs he’d kept on him since getting the law enforcement role. “Here, put these on the fucker,” he said to Jason, tossing the cuffs over rather weakly. His voice was low and scratchy, as if his throat had been damaged by the assault.

“I need to... Fuck. Meg needs medical attention.” He did too, but looking at Meg now, laying there pale as death and covered in blood had panic squeezing in his chest. Reaching over, Brady checked for a pulse, finding a weak one. Could he carry her right now? Whether he thought he could or not, he felt like he had to. He pulled in one deep breath before turning to her, shifting onto one knee to give himself leverage to lift her. She was such a tiny thing, but it still required a lot of strength that he didn’t have. With a grunt, he tossed her over his damaged shoulder in a fireman’s carry, grabbed the knife, and stood up. “You think you can drag that dickwad to the elevator and down to the infirmary?” And there was the matter of the body down below. Was Susanna dead or alive? He had no idea.

It was a worrying sign of just how far under Meg was that there was no reaction from her when Brady lifted her up, not even a flicker of eyelids or an involuntary moan of pain. The only signs she was even still alive were the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed and an increasingly weak and thready pulse that seemed to get slower with every beat of her heart as it struggled to continue pumping blood around her body.

Catching the cuffs as Brady tossed them to him, Jason nodded before rolling Ryan over onto his chest so he could get them onto the unconscious man. With that taken care of, he stood up, taking the opportunity to take a better look at everything. It looked… worse than he had initially thought. And Brady… Jason almost said something when Brady picked up Meg, about how the other man looked like he really did not need to be doing that, but Brady’s request had him holding back the comment.

“Yeah, I can get Ryan,” he answered, nodding. “Are you sure you’ve got her?” Jason had to ask; Brady didn’t look terribly steady right now. And shit, there was another one to worry about too. “And what about…the body down below?” He realized that he hadn’t even stopped to look at it really. Didn’t know if it was a man or a woman, or if they were dead or not. Shit. What the hell had happened here?

Although Brady really wasn’t very steady, he was damned determined to get Meg down to the infirmary so that Cal could patch her up. And fuck if this wasn’t a completely fucked up situation to ask the doc to deal with after losing his nurse today. It was just a whole load of bullshit. As bad as things looked up here, he was sure the actuality was even worse, but he’d be damned if Meg didn’t survive this. It was one thing to make the choice to be done with life, it was another thing entirely when someone else made that choice for you.

“Yeah, I’ve got her,” he assured Jason. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d pushed through his own pain to carry someone to safety. The question had his stomach churning, but Brady refused to look over the rail at the body below. “Couldn’t give two shits about the bitch. She was about to kill Meg when I found them. We can deal with her when we get these two down to the infirmary,” he answered, not proud of the extra effort it took to speak as so much of his energy was already going toward carrying the limp girl.

Well, at least that answered the question about the gender of the body below, as well as how Meg had ended up in the state she had. It didn't really clear much else up though, and if anything, only raised more questions. Still, even though he wanted to know, Jason didn't ask, knowing that, for now at least, his priority had to be to make sure everyone got the medical attention they needed. Grabbing Ryan, he hefted his unconscious body up into a fireman's carry. Ryan was heavy, all dead weight, but it wasn't anything he couldn't deal with. Hell, it was almost like being back at work, except nothing was on fire. At least, not yet anyway; although with the way the night was going, he wasn't going to rule that possibility out.

Still as he and Brady began to make their way to the infirmary, he did make a slight correction to what Brady had said. "You mean, I'll deal with her. You should probably stay with Cal and let him take a look at you as well." Because it was obvious Brady needed medical attention too. After all, Brady certainly hadn't done himself any favors when he had pulled that knife out. His paramedic training was telling him that Brady had made an already bad situation worse with that move.

There was a very large part of Brady that wanted to argue the correction because he didn't think Jason should deal with Susanna on his own. If she wasn't dead, then she could have some serious damage that would likely require careful moving and treatment, not that he really cared. The bitch could die and he wouldn't shed a tear for her. It just went against all his training and instincts to stop before the job was done, even if he did need medical treatment.

With the way his shoulder throbbed, Brady had no doubts that he needed treatment too, but Meg's body seemed to be providing the pressure to staunch the flow of blood, and he didn't think the knife had hit anything vital. Couple stitches, and he'd be fine. Probably. "Yeah, maybe. Fuck, if I don't help you with her, grab someone else to, though," he said as they made their way around the corner toward the activity room and elevator.

Even though he had suggested Brady stay with Cal, Jason did know that he would probably need help dealing with the woman in the courtyard. And if Cal said it was okay, he’d just as soon have Brady help him instead of making someone else have to deal with this. But if Cal thought Brady needed to take it easy... "If she's dead, it's not a big deal. No reason to make someone else have to deal with her. If she's not... I don't know. I'll find someone to help out. Should probably also see if the infirmary has some sort of back board or something." If not, he and someone else could make do, but even that would be a risk, considering her possible spinal and internal injuries. Still, if the infirmary didn't have anything, that would have to do.

"Who is she?" Jason asked. There were other questions he wanted to ask, mostly about what had happened, but he had a feeling that was an answer that would take a while. And now that the fight had been broken up, he could feel a little guilty that he hadn't even bothered to find out who the woman lying dead or unconscious in the courtyard was.

As Jason spoke, Brady tried to nod but he couldn’t really give much energy toward that when pretty much all of it was going toward carrying Meg. “Yeah, a back board would be a good idea,” he agreed shortly, grunting a bit. He’d do what he had to do, get the job done, and then he would let Cal take a look at him. “She’s Susanna,” he answered darkly, his feelings toward the woman dead or unconscious in the courtyard quite clear. “You doin’ okay with him?” he asked, thinking the distraction of talking might actually help him get to the elevator. Almost there, just one foot in front of the other.

Susanna. Jason recognized the name. Now that he thought about it, Susanna and Meg had been the two girls in one of the cases he and some of the others had had to decide on. Given the state of things, it was obvious that the ruling had not been the end of it. It actually probably explained a lot about the state of the two girls - or at least, some of the motives behind the actions taken - but that really didn't do much to explain how Ryan and Brady had gotten involved, nor why they had ended up fighting each other.

Pushing back his own questions in the face of Brady's, Jason nodded. "Yeah. He's not the biggest guy I've had to do this with." This - or something like it - had been his job before he'd been arrested. Although, the handcuffs were new. He'd never had to drag anyone in for medical help while they were in handcuffs. As they reached the elevator, he took a second to steady Ryan before reaching out with one hand to hit the call button. "What about you? You okay with Meg?" he asked as the elevator arrived.

Considering Ryan wasn't exactly small, Brady wasn't going to question whether or not Jason had him if he said he'd carried bigger guys than him before. They needed to get down to the clinic, and this was the quickest way to it. When asked if he was okay, Brady gave a short nod before stepping into the elevator, and if he leaned against the wall, he didn't think anyone would blame him. "Yeah, I'm good," he emphasized just a bit stubbornly.

Brady was quiet the rest of the way, focused on getting Meg there, trying to hear any faint breathing that might be coming from her and stomping down on the concern that fighting with Ryan had inadvertently sacrificed Meg. It wouldn't do to think like that, not when he didn't know the extent of Meg's injuries. He'd just have to trust that Cal would be able to save her. Whatever else might happen... Well, they'd deal with it.