Gonna Get Close to You
by Jamie K. Schmidt © 2006
“I told you that I would love you forever. Or, at least, I always meant to.” Devon Kesselman said in a soft voice, from his vantage point, high in a tree.
Eighteen years had passed since he last saw Eileen, yet his eyes showed him no difference in her laughing blue eyes and her sweet smile. She was having a picnic on her back lawn, or maybe a reunion, because he saw more familiar faces get out of a parked car.
“Ashley Taylor and Rick Kennefick, huh,” Devon muttered, watching his old partner and his girlfriend approach the house. “Although, God knows what names they go by now.”
Rick definitely was older. Well, he had been pushing forty when they turned state's evidence against Higuchi back in ‘45. Jeez, that made him in his late fifties. Devon noted Rick's black hair had turned all silver. He had aged O. K., Devon reluctantly admitted. Rick walked with only a slight limp and still looked in shape. Guess all the cybernetics in his body didn't geek, like they warned them it would. Devon never got to find out if the lifetime guarantee on his bodywork had been bogus or not.
Still, Rick should be ashamed of himself, hanging all over Ashley, who was young enough to be his daughter. Ashley! Devon took a good look at her. Well, she wasn't eighteen anymore. Devon gave a dark, bitter laugh. But then again, who was?
Her flame-red hair had been tamed to a deep mahogany, but Devon guessed that was more for disguise than age. She still had a body that wouldn't quit. And it was obvious, the old man still adored her. What did she ever see in him, though? A minor hitman for a Japanese businessman, Rick was a pushy, conniving, arrogant S.O.B. who never brought her anything but trouble in his lousy life. And Devon had forgotten how much he had missed him until now.
Devon watched the two women hug and controlled a pang of jealousy when Rick swept Eileen off her feet and swung her around in a circle. He nearly fell out of the tree when a little girl ran off the back porch towards them.
“Me too! Me too!”
She looked to be eight or nine years old. Devon forced himself to breathe.
“Oh, all right.” Rick picked her up and danced across the lawn with her. Eileen and Ashley followed him, their heads together.
“That's enough, Princess, yer getting too heavy for this old man to carry.” Rick put the little girl down.
“Oh, baloney, you're just lazy.” Devon said under his breath.
“Daddy, Daddy, guess who's here?” she ran straight up the back stairs to the other man. The man Devon had been too busy ogling Ashley to notice.
“Hello, Eddie.” Devon said between his teeth.
“I have eyes, Devon. Go inside and wash up.”
This time, Devon did lose his grip on the branch. It took him a moment to realize Eddie hadn't been talking to him. He let out a shaky breath. Devon--they named the little girl after him! When he righted himself amidst the leaves, and the trees he gazed down to the lawn, right into Rick's eyes.
“Damn his enhanced hearing! That's O. K., he can't possibly see me way up here. And even if he did, he would have no idea what he was looking at.” Devon thought and glared back until, finally, Rick dropped his eyes. “That's right. Have a hamburger for me, old man.”
Devon's stomach was still twisting from all the emotions heaving through his body. He had been warned that there was nothing but pain in going back. They told him that the survivors always went on with their lives, that time does indeed have a way of healing all wounds. But he didn't come here today for a friendly reunion. Devon touched the rough grip on the pistol under his arm. He came to get Eileen back. He should've bought a sniper rifle. That way, he could have clipped her from up here. There wouldn't have been any pain. No time for her to be scared, just BANG, and then a pretty white light. Just like it had been for him.
“I don't believe in reincarnation,” Devon had said.
“You don't have to,” They said. “It happens anyway.”
Devon knew he was probably a disappointment to Them. A paid assassin in his first life, and a runaway ganger in his second. It didn't matter though. He found out what he needed to know from Them. Everybody comes back after they die, no matter what. No matter what terrible things they did or how rotten a person they were, everyone got another chance. They just didn't remember. That was all he had to hear. He waited until he was old enough and strong enough. Then he began his search.
He had been surprised how little had changed. Money still was the key to every door and information was a valid commodity. Every man had his price. If it wasn't money, then it was blackmail, again it didn't matter. In the end, he got what he wanted. An address. As a bonus, a man who didn't want his pedophiliac preferences aired to the voting public gave him Eileen's service record. She quit the Bureau shortly after his death and married her old partner. At least, that was what was on the official books. More arm-twisting and he learned that she was using her magical talents to find suspects and protect rat finks, like he had been, until their trials.
Nowhere was it written or even hinted at that she had a daughter. That was proof enough that she was still active in the Bureau. Devon watched her set out potato salad and the dishes on a patio set that had seen better days. He spared a contemptuous glance at Eddie, who with Rick was trying to get the barbecue going. He was going bald on top. Good!
Devon pushed his own long blond hair behind his ears and stared intently at Eileen. They called her “Ice” in the bureau. She had been the coldest, most professional agent in the field. He remembered the first time he met her as if it was seconds ago instead of eighteen years.
***
He had been running from Higuchi's bounty hunters. They had found him again. He vaulted over a fence and ran straight into the public library. They winged him before he was through the doors. Devon had clamped a hand over his bloody arm and took the stairs two at a time. They had used a silencer, so as not to draw attention. He stood gasping for breath at the top of the stairs. He could hear them clamoring up after him. He passed by the vids, holograms, and the computer aids into the old section where the print media was stored. Big, dusty shelves contained volumes of books that you actually could hold and turn the pages. He nearly tripped over a cart filled with books to be shelved and he saw her there. She had old rimmed glasses on her nose and she was wearing a grandmother type sweater that said her name was Alice Jackson, Head Historian.
“I've got men following me. You have to get out of here, or they'll shoot you too.” Devon had shown her his bloody hand.
She clamped a hand over his mouth and led him to a corner.
“You won't turn me in?” He asked, hearing the scuttling of footsteps far behind them.
“Leave them to me, Dearie,” she said, and he condemned himself as a pervert for watching the way her hips swayed when she walked away.
He heard her scream, a long wailing cry, and was ashamed that he couldn't make himself get up and help her. He buried himself deep into the crevice where the two shelves met and hoped she would at least buy him some time. Then he heard her speak.
“Oh, Help me! A man with a gun just ran into the cellar! He's trapped there and I'm afraid he'll come back up for me!”
“What the. . .?” Devon thought and tried to stifle a sneeze from all the dust around him.
“Are you the police?” she said.
“Of course we are, Lady. Which way did he go?”
Devon cringed. That was Saturo, a man known for his torturing skills.
“This way. Follow me.”
Devon listened as their footsteps lead them away from him. He almost laughed, but then a mutant spider glided down a web to stay in front of him. Devon couldn't move without touching it. It was at least six inches across and it was dangling in front of his arm. It must have smelled the blood. He thought he was going to die. To him, it was the utmost of ironies. To escape the best Higuchi could throw at him, only to die from the bite of a spider.
He heard her light steps as she ran back to him. SMACK, the spider was crushed under a heavy book. Devon tried not to look at the wall where it lay smooshed.
“Hey, Alice, thanks.” he said as she helped him out of the corner and to his feet. “Whoa! What the?”
She whirled and smashed him face first into the shelves. He heard the clink of handcuffs as she forced his arms behind his back.
“Ow!” he cried as his wounded arm screamed in pain.
“Ed, I've got two hitters from Higuchi locked in the basement and the stoolie in protection. Send a team to get them before they do more damage or decide to commit seppuku.” She pulled Devon from the wall and he glanced over his shoulder at her. She was this tiny little thing compared to him.
“Well, hiya! They teach you these things at librarian school?”
When she ignored him, hurrying him to the elevator instead of answering him, he tried another tactic. “My name is. . . ugh.” She slammed him into the elevator and pushed the button for down. He slowly and painfully turned around.
“You nearly broke my nose.”
She took off the glasses and the sweater. “I know who and what you are Mr. Kesselman. I'm Agent Donovan. Welcome to protective custody.”
Devon had decided to turn state's evidence. Really, what choice did he have? Eddie negotiated the deal with his cheap, efficient suit and his even more efficient hair style. Devon had deliberately not showered or shaved, let his black hair fall straight down his shoulders. He wanted to make the suit sneer and feel superior. But Eddie hadn't reacted. So, Devon pushed him. He wanted a house and servants and a comfortable salary, season tickets to the major sports events, and a big white dog named Ishmael. The more outrageous his requests, the more Eddie withdrew. Devon figured they must want Higuchi pretty bad to be willing to give him what he wanted. Finally, Devon ran out of requests and Eddie stopped writing diligently. He did his job, like a good little salary man, quiet and emotionless. Devon was going to check for a pulse when she walked in. Immediately, he regretted his decision on grooming. The look she gave him was as cold as her nickname. He watched her eyes grow wide when she read his demands.
“Forget it. Throw him to the wolves.” She calmly handed the folder back to Eddie and went to leave.
“Wait!” Devon jumped up, not meaning to panic, but hey -- she was serious.
“Yes, Mr. Kesselman?” She arched an eyebrow at him and he was speechless.“Would you like to reconsider?”
“He's got nothing, Ice. The contract's out on him for messing with the wrong woman.” Eddie said and handed her another file. That was when he turned to Devon and smiled. But it wasn't a smile, really. It was a smirk that said, “Take that.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Eileen droned in a bored voice. “Mr. Kesselman, you're free to leave. Sorry for any inconvenience.” She wasn't sorry. She knew if he left now it was only a matter of time before Saturo and his burning stilettos caught up with him. What did they take him for? A punk? Devon pushed himself to his feet and turned his back on them, frantically pushing his fingers through his hair. It was then that he caught a good look at himself in the mirrored wall. Yeah. That was exactly what they took him for.
He caught the calculating look in Eddie's eyes and knew he had been reeled in, but good. Chances were she had been watching the entire negotiation from behind the mirror. How could he have been so stupid? A reluctant grin spread across his face, a salute to a worthy adversary. Served him right for underestimating her.
“I've got dates and times, places and people.” Devon said. “And if you guarantee immunity, I can bring in two more to testify.” He thought he saw an admiring look in her eyes.
That's when the real negotiations began.
***
The little girl was perched on Rick's lap, while Ashley chain-smoked and good-naturedly bickered with Eileen. Eddie seemed contented to eat his hamburger and let conversation roll around him.
Devon began to wonder how Eileen would look in widow's black and then smiled at his own whimsy. His bullets weren't for the pathetic old man who even in his glory days wasn't all that good. No, let Ed live out his days mourning for his one true love. Like the phoenix, Eileen would be reborn into a glorious new existence and so would Devon. And then they could have the life that was stolen from them. But when the time for action came, could he pull the trigger? And how would he find her again? He didn't like betting high stakes on a chance that Fate would take over and throw them together. She could be reborn on the other side of the world. Or as a man! Devon hadn't thought about that.
He look down when he heard her laugh and he realized it didn't matter. He'd find her. He had to. Eddie threw his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him. Devon's gazed narrowed. Perhaps the bullet would go to Eddie after all. There would be no hesitation. No regret. His foot was falling asleep and he hated being indecisive. He thumped his foot against the branch. Well, he made her fall in love with him before under worse conditions that this.
***
After the negotiations, the next time he saw her was after he was settled in his own safehouse. Knowing that she was doing a routine check on him, he had made sure the advantage was in his favor this time. He dressed in a silk suit that Eddie would have looked ridiculous in, even if he could afford it. It was so dark a black, it was almost purple. He wore his hair slicked back into a long ponytail and although he couldn't resist not wearing an earring, he chose a tasteful sapphire stud instead of the hanging ones.
She had her own key and she let herself in without knocking. That should've pissed him off, but it didn't. He wondered if he was wearing too much cologne, when she wrinkled her nose at him.
“When you said you did personal work for Higuchi, I assumed it was as a hitman and not as a pimp.”
He was pleased that was the best she could come up with. That meant she was beginning to like him. And he was beginning to dream about her. “You're just jealous because I dress better than you.”
“You dress better than most mages.”
“Now, that's offensive!” Devon placed a hand over his heart and feigned a mortal wound. She wasn't even charmed a little. In fact, she went through every room of the house without speaking to him. It was then that he realized that she was a mage. He had been still frowning over the possibility that he said the wrong thing when she got back from her tour.
“What's this?” she had asked holding a snow-white puppy in her arms.
“That's Ish.”
The dog whined and gave a little “ruff” at his name and wiggled to get down. She put him down reluctantly and watched him scamper away.
“It's not a crime to like cute things, Agent Donovan.” He had given her his killer smile, one that spread across only half his face.
“I'm sure I don't know what you mean,” she responded haughtily and looked down her little nose at him. It was impressive, especially since she was foot shorter than he was.
“Prob'ly not,” he agreed good-naturedly. “But then I suppose it's very natural for women field Feds to wear lacy sexy underwear under their business suits.”
“I am not! I don't know how . . .” she cut herself off, and her bright red face gave her away. “Take a good look, Mr. Kesselman,” she snapped at him.
So maybe the X-ray cyberopts weren't a waste of money after all.
“I have wards to set up.” She moved away from him, covering up the first human reaction he ever pulled out of her.
***
“Hey, you in the tree! Come down here.”
The voice came from below him and to the side. A quick glance confirmed it was Rick. He was using the tree as partial shield and leveled a nasty looking modified pistol. Since when did they give gun permits to protected witnesses? Today just wasn't his day. Should've known Rick would've pegged him in the tree. Shoulda, woulda, coulda -- story of his lives.
“Awright, old man, don't have a heart attack.” Devon got his bearings and slowly climbed down the tree. Not slow enough to annoy Rick, but slow enough to get his point across that he wasn't going to be threatened by him.
Up close, Rick was even older. Devon found he couldn't be a smart-ass. “Hi,” was about all he could manage. He hoped the other man couldn't see his Adam's apple bouncing up and down. Jeez, all the hormones and emotions of an eighteen year old too!
“What were you doin' up there?”
Devon didn't have to fake being intimidated. The modified RP-79 was pointed dead blank on him. He focused on the silencer that was professionally attached on the end of the barrel. It was a slick weapon. He met Rick's chromed eyes and saw his own reflection, a gangly longhaired scrag.
“I wuz just settin'.” Devon found that lapsing back into gang speech was easy.
“Were you now?” Rick ran his tongue across his lips. “Maybe I don't believe you.”
The paranoid sonofawhore was going to shoot! “So whatcha goin' do, Old Man. Clap me right here on the street? I don' think the neighbors would appreciate the blood on the sidewalk.” He lost the gangspeak towards the end, but Devon was thinking too hard about keeping Rick from killing him to notice.
“It's not my neighborhood. And you won't bleed that much.”
“Rick!” Eileen said. She was standing directly behind Rick and Devon hadn't seen her walk up. He deserved to be shot after all the mistakes he made today.
“Don't walk around,” Devon thought desperately. “I'm not ready to talk to you. I don't want you to see me like this. No. No. No.” She stepped into his vision.
“Eileen. . .”
“What's going on here?” She sidestepped towards them, her hands purposely open. Devon could almost see the spell forming.
The smart thing would be to reason with her. She always had a soft spot for innocent victims, and not so innocent victims, Devon thought ruefully. But he couldn't speak. His own pistol felt heavy under his arm, and even if he could reach it before Rick put a crater inside of him, Devon found he was only able stare at her.
Older, yes. But just as professional and tough.
She touched a button on her lapel. “Ed, put Devon inside.”
Still giving orders.
He saw the ocean in her eyes and relived every moment with her in them.
***
“Devon, keep your head down, or I'll blow it off myself!” She spared him a glance before returning fire on Higuchi's men.
At one time, he had been content to let him fight her battles. But each fight, he became angrier. Higuchi wasn't giving up. Each time they cornered him, Devon would sit back, while the Feds played his shields. This time Higuchi had pinned them down inside the airlift terminal. Eileen had back up on the way. Rick and Ashley were with Eddie safe in a limo that was armored like an Iceberg tank. The only cover they had was some crates that hadn't been loaded yet.
Eileen dropped down next to him and handed him her service pistol. She half closed her eyes and began to murmur a spell. He fired randomly over the crate without looking. She opened her eyes and the spell glowed like neon dancers.
“Cover me,” she said and stood up.
Panic flared into him like acid rain and he shot to his feet, making him a bigger target. He fired clinically, naming each man that he shot. A rush of energy flew by him, not touching him and he saw out of the corner of his eye, lightning crackling between her hands. Bodies jerked and guns flew out of their hands as five hitman did the electrocution jig.
She swayed back as the cost of the spell hit her. “C'mon, run.” she said and grabbed his arm. She tugged at him and then sagged. The spell had did damage to her too. She was bleeding from her ear and nose. Devon wrapped his arm around her and boosted his reflexes into a run. His shoulder blades twitched as if he was expecting a bullet, but they made it to the rendezvous point without any further interest from Higuchi's bounty hunters.
“Where's Ed?” Eileen gasped out and she sank down to the floor of the airlift hanger.
“I dunno!” Devon said, nearly crazy with worry for her. “But I dropped your gun. We're unarmed.”
She gave a soft sigh that was cut off by his kiss.
And wouldn'tcha know it, Eddie picked that moment to show up with the car.
***
“What are ya, stupid?”
Devon picked himself up from the concrete, his ear buzzing where Rick cuffed him. Oh, yer gonna pay for that one, Old Man. He glared up at him and slowly got to his feet. Eileen was staring at him intently. Could a mage see inside him? Could she tell who he really was?
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Trake,” he gave her his gang name, omitting the fact that it was short for tracheotomy and due to his skill with a knife.
“What are you doing here?”
She smiled and he lost his train of thought.
“Answer her!” Rick made the mistake of trying to hit him again.
Devon let instinct take over and dumped the old man on his ass. The gun skidded away.
“Rick,” she took a step forward.
The pistol eased out of his holster. He just pretended he was Trake and she was just in his way. “Drop the spell, Slinger. And back away from the old man. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
Commands just flew from his mouth. He had no way of knowing if the magic she was preparing was dispelled or not, but she didn't know that. And she moved away from Rick, but she came closer to him.
“Stop!” Devon's voice squeaked and he could've died from mortification.
“I won't hurt you.” She spoke and he recognized the voice she used. He saw her hypnotize someone with it once.
He forced the barrel up to her face. “Then stop with the magicking.”
Her eyes narrowed as she sized him up.
Nails scraping on the concrete made him dart his eyes from her and a giant fuzzball launched at him. He hit the concrete for the second time today. Four paws and an excited canine bounced on his chest and knocked the wind clear out of him. When the wet pink tongue allowed him to see, he wrapped his arms around the dog.
“Ish,” Devon ridiculously started to cry. Great gulping sobs shook him and he buried his face into the warm soft fur. Someone remembered him. Someone recognized him. Someone loved him. The gun was forgotten on the concrete next to him and he hugged the old dog until the hot tears ran their course and he was there sitting with an adoring dog in his lap, feeling utterly foolish. He risked a peek at Eileen and Rick and found them staring at him.
“Well, he sure ain't from Higuchi.” Rick muttered sourly and rubbed his sour knee.
“I think it was a case of mistaken identity.” Eileen smiled and patted Rick on the shoulder.
“You don't know the half of it,” Devon thought to himself, his sick sense of humor kicking in.
“Come on Ish, leave the poor kid alone. He's had a bad scare,” she said and snapped her fingers for the dog to heel.
Ish ruffed at her and whined up at Devon.
“Ish!” she walked over to drag him off Devon.
“Eileen. . . “ Rick said warningly.
“I'm really sorry about all this. This old dog loves people and Rick,” she glanced back at the old man. “Well, that old dog doesn't like anyone.” She crouched down and they were eye level. He could smell her. The perfume was the same, a sweet musk that danced around his sense and made him dizzy. Closing his eyes, he felt time warp and she was crouching over him.
***
“Devon!” Eileen was hysterical. He never heard that tone in her voice before. He forced his eyes to look at her one last time. She wasn't crying. She was too hard to cry. The magic she used to save him had exhausted them both and only bought him a few more minutes. He memorized her beloved face. From the anguish in her lovely eyes to the trembling in her sweet full lips. He was dying, but all he wanted was one last kiss.
Rick lay ten feet away, his knee hanging on to his leg by a few tendons. Ashley was in a heap next to him. He had crawled to her and even now was shielding her with his body. When something like this happened inside the courtrooms of America, well maybe it was time to die.
“Devon,” she said his name again and he felt her cradling his head in her arms. They had had so little time, so little time.
“I don't want to go,” he whispered, the words ripped out of his throat. He had meant to tell her he loved her.
“I don't want you to go either,” she whispered back.
And that was how it ended. He felt her near him as a sharp, white light blinded him. A tug and then he was floating, floating. He couldn't feel the laser burns in his chest anymore and couldn't feel Eileen's arms around him. He was free. He was nothing.
***
“Are you all right?” Her voice was concerned and Devon forced himself to focus. Eileen's throat came into view, a pulse beating there. The part of him that was Trake whispered that the knife was still in his wrist sheath. It wasn't too late for them to die. Rick still had his pistol out. That the old man would kill him was not in question. Could Devon slit her throat?
“I think so,” Devon said more to himself than to her, knowing the answer would buy him time to plan the cut. He shoulda brought the sniper rifle. He shoulda seen Rick coming. He shoulda, coulda, woulda. Well, not this time.
To his left, the dog ruffed warningly and then whined as if he knew he couldn't stop it. Devon met her eyes and said it.
“I love you.”
The knife blurred into his hand from the speed holster it was in. His arm arched and his fingers flipped the knife so the blade was pointed correctly. He saw the blood on her face and chest and the surprised, scared look on her face. He wished it didn't have to be this way. He wished she would believe him if he could tell her they'd be together soon.
Devon heard a loud roar behind him. Behind him? And a blast jerked him forward. He was in her arms again at last. But not for long. She shoved him backwards. As his head hit the pavement, he heard the knife clatter to the ground. The blade glinted in the sunset, clean and un bloodied. The pain in his chest gagged him and he fought to stay alive. No! It wouldn't work a third time. She'd be a Grandmother. He couldn't wait that long. He had waited two life times already.
“Ice!” Devon cried as agony piked him into a fetal position.
He saw the shoes of his murderer come up to him and forced his eyes upwards. The man crouched next to him, a shotgun in his hands.
“Eddie, be careful!” Eileen said, far away from them -- far away from him. She was still alive.
“No, not you.” Devon groaned and coughed up his dying breath.
Eddie reached over him. “When will these punks ever learn?” He yanked the hanging dagger from Devon's ear and when Devon's head hit the pavement he died. Again.
THE END
Jamie K. Schmidt lives in Connecticut with her loving husband, two fat cats and a garbage hound. When not playing World of Warcraft or Dungeons and Dragons, she can be found reclining on the couch with her laptop, creating worlds and typing furiously, all the while muttering to herself, "Don't be trite." and "Real people don't talk like that." Her works have appeared in Anotherealm, Astounding Tales, Evernight Shadowfire Press, Kenoma, Neuronet, Ragged Edge Publishing and Writer's Nook and Reader's Corner.