Click. Crack. Bang. [Pt. 2] He came through the fireplace, imagining that the swirl of the fire would be quieter than the crack of Apparation. Ross had to be as silent as possible, needed the element of surprise on his side when certainly no other force was. It was just him, but it was always just him. He was used to doing things alone, his own way. Going rogue.
And it was fine by him.
He crept carefully through Sally’s house, following the sound of her footsteps. Fortunately for him, it seemed like there was only one person home currently, and that person was wearing high heels, which was promising for it being her, as the only person he knew to live there was Jamie’s nephew Marcus, a lad who had always seemed strange but would - Ross hoped - not stoop as low as women’s footwear.
He approached with deathly silence, seeing a head of brunette waves and feeling a flash of reaffirmation. Ross ducked behind a partial wall, the need for stealth on this mission far greater than the protests offered by his aging knees. Brown-grey eyes peered over the ledge, burrowing into the back of a head that, turned around, would offer the same eyes back at him. He took a muffled but deep breath and slowly produced his wand.
“Expelliarmus!” he shouted as he rose, sneering with satisfaction as her wand flew from her and she spun around in shock and confusion. There was a jar to her, too, a kind of flinch he’d seen in her mother. He had missed that, missed the power trip it had given him. Jamie was always a blast, at least until she had to go and regrow a spine. Ross knew the skittishness had lingered after he was gone, plaguing her as his accomplice.
One did not turn around every day to the disarming - literally and figuratively - shouts of one’s dreadful and toxic father, but Sally knew the voice who had incanted before she had moved to face him. She could never forget that voice, try as she might to block him out of her past, present, and future. He was the one who had damaged her, and she had worked hard to rebuild. Ross Manger was not invited to be a part of that.
But here he was, ripping away her wand and aiming his at her for Merlin only knows what purpose. Sally had been blessed with exceptional intellect, but even the simplest of minds could have imagined what this meant: there was a high probability of something bad happening to her. “What is this?” she demanded, her tone more indignant than afraid, although blocked behind as a deep-rooted, rational fear of the man before her.
“Get over there.” He indicated where he wanted her to move with a flick of his wand. For a moment, Sally did not move. “Now!” A warm pulse went through his body as she slowly raised her empty arms and walked in the direction he demanded, pushing her out of the somewhat cluttered kitchen she was in and into the more open living area. An easier target.
The resentment was clear on her face, the stroke of bullheadedness and anger he had tried so hard to break from her. And for a while he had succeeded, shaping her into the perfect child, quiet and content, not knowing how to be anything else. But she was too damn smart, and she’d gotten curious and had some sort of revelation, and now she was flawed and ruined. “Such a shame it had to be like this,” he said aloud, his inflection suggesting that in some way, shape, or form, he actually meant it. Ross dropped his wand, letting it clatter to the floor, and pulled out his second weapon, the one to do the heavy work.
Sally took an instinctive step back, although she actively knew that would make less than no difference if and when he fired it. “What the hell are you doing with that thing?” She was fairly good at making predictions based on logic and past experience, but this was far beyond anything she could have seen coming. “I thought you hated Muggle toys.”
“Hey,” he said, waving the handgun as he spoke, “can’t an old man learn a new trick? Honestly, I thought you’d appreciate it. You live in a Muggle neighborhood, for some ungodly reason. I’m being considerate of the local wildlife.” Ross settled his wild hands and aimed, but he paused. Something changed. Nothing changed. She looked at him. “What?”
Sally bit her lip. She stepped toward him slowly, arms still raised, and though she saw every muscle in his arms tighten, his finger twitching, she did not slow. “Look,” she said, forcing levelness to her voice. It used to be a lot easier. “Look, I don’t think you really want to do this.” He stifled a snicker, but he did not fire yet. So that was promising. “We’ve had a… a troubling time, I know, but you’re… you’re not a monster.” It felt like acid in her mouth to say, feeling so strongly the opposite, having most of her life defined by his atrocity. Quite possibly now her death, as well, if this didn’t somehow miraculously pacify him.
And she had walked almost all the way up to him, giving a point blank shot if he decided to pull the trigger. This wasn’t exactly her best plan.
But for a moment, he only looked at her. His eyes did not soften - she did not think they were capable of it - but his mind was clearly swirling. She reached in the rest of the way, her hands settling on his, on the weapon. Faintly, Sally smiled.
Click. He cocked the gun.
The smile was gone in an instant, and she ducked down, pulling to get a hold of the weapon. They struggled against each other like they had always struggled against each other, Sally to overcome, Ross to subdue, but with a sense of urgency and importance that left all previous experiences far behind in shadow. This one was, she had the sinking feeling, possibly the last.
Crack.
Apparation. She had completely forgotten that she had plans with her brothers today. And their presence, while ill-timed for safety reasons, provided enough distraction to get the gun out of Ross’s hands. It clattered to the floor, and she kicked it across the floor. She kicked at his wand, too, where he had dropped it, but not nearly as far.
Ross’s hesitation had cost him, and now Jake and Arnold were present. While this was not ideal, he was too far now to go retreat. The only option his panicked mind could find now was a weaponless kill, no wand, no gun, just his size and strength against hers. Malicious fingers wrapped around Sally’s neck, squeezing as hard as they could. Her hands pried at his desperately, but there was no release.