I had to write this, mostly for myself. After watching the final episode of the 2015 BBC mini-series 'And Then There Were None' I was breathless with the incredible performance given from everyone. If you haven't watched yet, do it before reading this! The series has much loved actors, such as Charles Dance, Sam Neill, Aidan Turner, Miranda Richardson and many more. This will be based on scenes from the series and other things I've added in to my liking. Basically this is an alternative ending to the show about Vera Claythorne and Phillip Lombard and how their lives changed afterwards. Sadly, this will only be a one-shot, meaning I won't continue it after this. There wasn't a category in the TV series so I had to post this in the book and literature category, but it's all based on the show. I don't take ownership of the series or anything written by Agatha Christie. Hope you all enjoy and don't forget to review.

Warning: Violence, language and smut.

Edit: I fixed up my errors and changed a little wording. Enjoy!


The moment Lombard saw her he knew she was different. There was something he saw right through her and he was determined to know what secrets she had hiding away. A casual dressed young woman sits on a train and stares out the window looking distracted from whatever was on her mind. He sits across the isle not too far from her, breathing in his cigarette with his own thoughts on mind before he finally notices of the woman.

He takes in her features very briefly before his eyes lay on her exposed legs, both crossed over one another leaving her skirt hitched up over her thighs. It wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, but he likes the way she looks. Not overly beautiful she was, but there was defiantly something he couldn't help but ponder about her. The thought comes to mind what her skin would feel like under his touch and wonders how she would behave in his company. Was she a good girl, or a bad girl? With his eyes still staring with interest at her thighs he doesn't notice her looking over at him.

Vera didn't know what brought her to look over at the man, but as soon as she notices him she saw his eyes gazing at her exposed legs. His eyes look hungry, and something else dangers from his emotionless stare as he took a swift of his smoke again. He was rather handsome and his stare only made him strangely more alluring. She wasn't use to being looked at such a way, not since Hugo, but even he didn't look at her at such a predatory way eyeing her up like a piece of meat. She plays the ladylike roll and she pulls her skirt down and shifts in her seat with both her legs flat together.

He takes another whiff from his cigarette and meets his eyes with her for the first time. She looks rather uncomfortable under his stare which only amuses him more. A hint of a playful smirk was given from him. His instincts told him she was not who she pretends to be, he wants to know who this devilish woman was.

Vera didn't know the man, she's never seen him before, and didn't like the way he was looking at her, almost reading her. She didn't like that one bit. Swiftly, she takes her suitcase and leaves her seat to find another, feeling his dark eyes on her back along the way.


Walking to the harbour docks was almost as unpleasant as the train ride. Vera walks in awkward silence with few others following her, including the same man from the train. Was he following her? No, turns out he was going to the same place as she was. Not the answer she wants but it was true. So, if this was to happen, a proper introduction was needed.

Upon waiting to dock the boat everyone gave names and some handshakes with one another before she finally met the man's gaze, "Mr?..."

He looks at her behind his glasses and gave a faint pleased smile, "Lombard…Phillip," She didn't say her name then. All she wanted to know was his name, and hopes he won't be a bother during her stay.


The moment Vera steps onto the island she got a sickening feeling. Maybe it was from the boat ride, it was rather bumpy, but she wasn't feeling sea sick, it was something else she couldn't work out.

Entering the house was another thing. Everything seemed…perfect. The place was spotless and the only two servants were fast with their needs, though very closed up about everything else, but Vera didn't think much of this. Once she dressed herself she took a tour of the house on her own. It was strange as she looks around, even more with the same poem in every room hanging up.

Ten little soldier boys went out to dine;
One choked his little self and then there were Nine.

Nine little soldier boys sat up very late;
One overslept himself and then there were Eight.

Eight little soldier boys travelling in Devon;
One said he'd stay there and then there were Seven.

Seven little soldier boys chopping up sticks;
One chopped himself in halves and then there were Six.

Six little soldier boys playing with a hive;
A bumble bee stung one and then there were Five.

Five little soldier boys going in for law;
One got into chancery and then there were Four.

Four little soldier boys going out to sea;
A red herring swallowed one and then there were Three.

Three little soldier boys walking in the Zoo;
A big bear hugged one and then there were Two.

Two little soldier boys sitting in the sun;
One got frizzled up and then there was One.

One little soldier boy left all alone;
He went and hanged himself

And then there were None.

"There's one in my room too," Vera right away knew it was Mr. Lombard who enters the room. He strolls in casually, holding a glass of brandy in one hand and observes the room, "I'd imagine there's one in every room."

"Well, solider island, it makes sense."

"I find our hosts to be in a way… outlandish," he smirks sipping at his brandy and takes a seat in the arm chair.

"I cannot comment on our hosts."

Lombard almost laughs at her fake innocents, "Good little secretary." Vera felt his presents are starting to be a bother and goes to leave.

"Excuse me."

She doesn't get far though, because he lifts his leg from his sitting position blocking her path of escape.

"We got off on the wrong foot haven't we? But you do have very pretty legs it would've been remised not to admire them." His eyes start at her pale ankles and move them up along her dress, remembering what her legs look like under the fabric and up to her face with a much too happy smirk.

Vera wants to slap him for his rudeness but she doesn't, knowing he'll probably enjoy it. Ever since the train he has been a bother, or she let him be a bother, either way she doesn't want him or any man thinking her to be the kind of woman looking for attention. Calmly she answers back with her back straight hides her discomfort towards him.

"Mr. Lombard, you seem to be under the impression that I'm a particular woman, and I ashore you I am not. I do not like to be looked at."

His smile slips and he gives a more hard curios look, dark eyes filling with wonder, looking like he was trying to read something interesting. "I get instincts of people. I got an instinct about you." Standing from his chair he slides his drink across the coffee table and starts advancing on her. Vera stumbles back into the wall behind her and watches with wide eyes as he stands close with his elbow resting above her head, "I think you're pretending."

She watches him. He tries to look behind the mask she wore and figure out her secrets. There was something there, he knew that, and was determined to find it. Vera can feel her heart beating heavily as she tries to relax herself under his murderess gaze, "I'm not pretending anything, Mr. Lombard."

He breathes out a small laugh at her as his powerful smirk widens, "Liar."

"You do not know me, Mr. Lombard, and I would appreciate it if you would leave me be."

"So ladylike, it doesn't suit you. A woman such as yourself needs attention, or are you already seeking it?" He bites his lower lip playfully.

"How dare you!" she hisses lowly so no one would hear. Last thing she wanted was to cause a scene, "You are a crude man with no manners. You know nothing about me."

Slowly his head lowers towards her and presses his lips against her ear letting out ghostly whispers, "I can already tell you that you hide behind a mask and pretend to be someone you're not. You're hiding something, like a secret, a very, dark secret. I want to know what it is, and I will find out."

"Go to hell!" She finally loses her temper and shoves him back against his chest. He stumbles and is a little surprised by her strength, but this only pleases him to see a side to her he rather likes.

Looking at her he gives a satisfied smirk at her, "I look forward getting to know you, Miss Claythorne."

"I never told you my name," she hears his breathily chuckle again.

"There are a lot of people here with loose tongues." He digs out a cigarette from his pockets, "And to start our newly friendship, I am sorry for gazing upon your irresistible legs."

She shows an emotionless stare towards him, "Mr. Lombard, I doubt you're ever sorry for anything." That's when she takes her departure out of the room, but not before hearing his last words.

"Smart girl."


Ladies and gentlemen! Silence, please! You are charged with the following indictments:

Edward George Armstrong, that you did murder Louisa Mary Clees.
Emily Caroline Brent, that you did murder Beatrice Taylor.
William Henry Blore, that you did murder James Stephen Landor.
Vera Elizabeth Claythorne, that you did murder Cyril Ogilvie Hamilton.
Phillip Lombard, that you did murder twenty-one men, members of an East African tribe.
John Gordon Macarthur, that you did murder Arthur Richmond.
Anthony James Marston, that you did murder John and Lucy Combes.
Thomas Rogers and Ethel Rogers, that you did murder Jennifer Brady.
Lawrence John Wargrave, that you did murder Edward Seton.

Prisoners at the bar, how do you plea?


One by one, day by day, and then there were Five. She should have never come to this…place. It was someone's cruel idea of a joke that was turning into each of them being murdered in order from that annoying poem. No one knew who the killer was. It could have been any of them. But there was no proof of anything besides dead bodies.

After a while of arguing between them it was finally decided that each of their rooms was to be searched thoroughly. This meant as well for whoever was being searched was to stand aside in their robes or towels, making sure they weren't hiding anything. It was Lombard's turn.

Vera sighs gently as she looks through the dresser briefly before she turns her attention at him. Her eyes met with his toned abdomen and she couldn't bring herself to look away. From the start Vera has tried to avoid him, his wandering eyes and playful smirks, not wanting to get caught in his stare or fingers. No matter how much she tries, she always found herself drawn to him. Why was this? Was it rude attitude, sly remarks, his appearance? He wasn't the murderer. That much she knew, or wanted to believe. She knew of his past, they all did, he even admitted it without remorse. He said it was all about self-preservation after abandoning the tribe members and taking all the provisions and supplies for himself. It was his life or there's.

She knows he's a murderess man, one who will kill anyone for a good reason. But there was something else she has discovered and that was his change towards her. Many times he has defended her whenever the others started accusing her to be the murderer. He'd be the only one to stand and do this for her. She wasn't sure why he did it, but she started to feel more comfortable in his presents, in fact she feels safer whenever he was around. He was the closest thing in this nightmare to call a friend.

Phillip stands against his doorway as he watches his room being searched. There was nothing to hide from them. He didn't care where they look or what they search through, he was innocent. His gaze slowly moves at each of them before he found Vera looking right back at him. They hold stares for a moment into each other's dark eyes before she turns away.

Vera was now being searched.

As they went through her stuff she chose to wait outside her room, not feeling overly comfortable in the same room with them. She only wore her robe and red bathing suit underneath, hoping to feel less exposed. She notices Lombard coming out his room still in his towel and she turns her attention away rather quickly. Too late, he notices. He creeps closer with her back facing him, like a wolf stalking his prey in the night. Vera chose to look back at him when he stands beside her.

He presents his toned body for her to feast upon, allowing her eyes to thirst over him and he sees that she doesn't for a second turn away from him. She doesn't want to look away. A fire burning lit inside as her eyes lingered over him. Feeling bold, she unlaces the belt of her robe around her waist and shows off her favourite red bathing suit. His hunger grew, seeing her in red made his lust grow. He wants to see all of her.

"Well, well, well, Miss Claythorne,"

"Mr. Lombard," she murmurs ghostly, feeling shivers running across her body under his roaming eyes. She craves him, she wants him.

"Phillip,"

"Vera."


Another was gone. Judge Lawrence Wargrave was dead, now only Doctor Armstrong, Detective Blore and Mr. Lombard remain. He is convinced there was someone else on the island with them and was in hiding until the last second. Lombard wants to find him and put a bullet in his head, making him number twenty-two. Vera didn't know what to think anymore, she wants to believe him, but it could still be Blore or Armstrong, either of them could be plotting, or the both of them were together in this. She doesn't know anymore.

At one moment she was attacked by her haunted past and passed out with a shrilling scream. Lombard is there first, trying to coax her awake and shaking her shoulder. When she finally wakes up she is offered a glass of brandy from Blore and she shoves it away from her. He could've easily done something to it. Lombard even praises her when she refuses the drink and fetches another unopened bottle for her.

This night they didn't have a care in the world as they share the brandy and sniff cocaine that was found in the possession of Marston, the first to die by choking on his own drink. They were vulnerable and treat the night as if it were there last. The remaining survivors dance, sing, drink and laugh like insane people who have just escaped from the nut house.

As the night grew Vera can feel herself floating around the room with her head spinning in circles. The cocaine was taking effect over her and she didn't regret it. She hasn't felt like this for a long time, being free, exposed to the world around her, the ability to breathe again, it feels good.

She finds herself in Lombard's arms. Her head rests against his shoulder, feeling the warm comfort and security within his gentle embrace. The two slow dance together for what feels like hours while Armstrong and Blore held each other in their own drunken way.

Vera feels safe with him. He shows her a more tender side of his cruel nature, something she didn't expect to see for the kind of man he was. She doesn't want to leave his hold. His lips tenderly press against her forehead and brush them over her hair, breathing in her beauty and scent. He trusts her as she trusts him and they pledged themselves together, they have no one else.

"You stick with me, Vera." His smooth words spoke to her, almost intoxicating, "We are going to get through this. I have no intention to get killed. Death is for the other people, not for us."

Was what he said true? Were they going to survive this? It didn't matter, nothing matters that moment. All she can do is stick with him.


They all retire to their rooms. Vera leaves her door unlock in hopes for him to show, not the murderer, Phillip. Her door opens without a sound. Phillip, that is what he wants her to call him, enters the room with his eyes laid on her, starring deep into her soul. She knows he's a bad man who has done horrible things in his past without regret, despite this she cannot help but crave for his touch. He was her savour from everything, even if this was to be their last night she wants it to be with him and not alone.

He steps in and watches her with beastly eyes as she moves pass him closing the door and locking it. She turns to face him again, waiting for him to come to her, to have her right there. He's on her, pinning her body with his own against the door, forcing a surprised gasp from her. He's rough, and yet she doesn't care, she wants it rough. Her eyes stare at his slightly parted lips and wonders what he tastes like, and it's like he reads her mind, because soon his lips come crashing onto hers. The teeth clashing kiss was good, addicting, she wants more. His teeth bite her lower lip, sucking the area hard and deepening the kiss with his tongue deep in her mouth. Not long after he breaks the kiss letting her breath and moving to the nape of her neck. She sighs passionately at the feel of her skin being nipped and sucked hard leaving small bruises.

His hands move down her lower back and thigh, lifting her up against the door before resuming the kiss again. She gains hold around his shoulders and drags her nails down the muscles along his back earning a low moan and hiss from him.

"Naughty kitty," his hoarse words sound deadly and bits down along her collar bone between his teeth.

His hand lifts her skirt up and tears off her knickers. With his other he unbuckles his belt, moving his suit pants down, just enough to free his cock. Without warning he thrusts himself hard into her, wasting no time to fulfil their desires. Vera throws her head back against the door with a half pained and pleasured moan. There is no time to adjust as he now starts thrusting himself against her in quick and hard movements. It hurt, his harsh animalistic movements thrusting up against her core in punishing movements, grunting at each hit he delivered into her, showing no mercy.

"A-ah-Phillip, ngh-ah, oh Phillip," her broken gasps spoke between each rough thrust given.

"Vera," he growls her name like a predator with its victim, "my Vera."

Phillip moves her off the door and over to the bed. His hard cock is gone and she whimpers in protest, earning a breathily chuckle from him, "Soon, I won't keep you waiting." He starts pulling off his clothes and her own, throwing them onto the floor boards and lay on top of her again. His lips found her peaked nipples and gave each one a hard suck while pinching the other between his fingers. Now he's back at her lips, kissing her roughly while moving himself between her open legs and thrusting himself into her core once more, holding her around her back and supporting himself above her.

Vera clings onto him with her legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his shoulders. She moves along the bed at each thrust, the bed moving and thumping with them as their love making grew heavier. His thrusts are frantic now, grunting above her with sweat pooling against his skin soaking into her own. Her breasts press up against his broad chest covered in small dark curls that rub against her skin, feeling every thrust and movement, his muscles flexing around her tightly and didn't want this moment to end.

His heated course pants press into her ear as his skilled thrusts plunge in and out of her core repeatedly. The pleasure he felt for her, it was nothing like he's ever felt before. It might have been the thrill of having a murderer running around and could strike at any moment. Thinking about it for a mere second made his cock twitch more around the warm entrance he was filling. This will happen again. When they get off this island he'll make sure she doesn't leave him. They needed each other. He needed her in his dark and cruel life.

"P-phillip-ah, ah, oh f-fuck," her whimpers sound in his ears and tightens her muscles around his throbbing cock making his growl lowly in his chest. He tightens his grip as if she were going somewhere and is now hammering her core, thrusting his cock deeply against her walls as his hand travels down and twists her nub painfully, which causes her to reach her blissful end with a scream that was muffled by her biting into his shoulder.

Phillip wasn't far behind, after three brutal thrust he comes deeply between her tight walls. He presses his forehead against hers as they both cool down with long and heavy pants. His lips came in contact, capturing her lips with his and pulling away, "My Vera…Mine."


They were dead. Armstrong and Blore, and now there were Two. It had to be him, Phillip, but she didn't want to believe it. There was no one else it was just them. She slept with him the night before believing he wasn't the killer. He hasn't said anything about it yet. Did he suspect her being the murderer? Was this all a big plot from the start, to gain her trust and then kill her?! It had to be him. There was no one else.

After discovering Armstrong's body she had pleas with him they must do the right and decent thing for the body, just like they have with the others. When his back turns the gun is tucked in the back of his belt and she takes her chance. Quickly, she reaches and grabs it. Moving away she points the revolver directly at him. She sees him staring at her in confusion, his reaction with her quick movement and now having his own weapon pointed at him.

"It's you," she judges him without thought, "it's you, it's all you, all of it!"

Phillip didn't see it coming. He trusts her and he thought she trusted him, but he couldn't blame her. It was obvious she wasn't the killer and he sure as hell wasn't. Seeing she was serious he calmly lifts his hand out to her, "Give me the gun."

"You're going to kill me." Her lips quiver at the thought. He approaches slowly towards her with raised hands showing he wasn't a threat to her, in hopes she would see some sense.

"No, no, I'm not going to kill you, Vera, but there's someone else on this island-"

"There's no one else!" Her scream would have been heard for miles. He continues to approach closer as she backs away from him. He needed to gun back, to kill the real killer behind all this, but he didn't want to be shot by her. Would she really do it?

"There's somebody else on this island and they're going to kill us both if you don't give me that gun!"

"There's no one else, you killed them all!"

Phillip was now growing frustrated and he has to talk some sense into her, "Listen to me, we're being hunted! Right now we're being hunted!" Trying his best he takes a few deep breaths in to remain calm, "I need the gun!" He starts approaching again, watching carefully as she steps away from him.

Vera didn't know what to do. She wants to believe him, really truly does, but who else could it be? Her hands are shaking, the gun rattles in her hold with her finger on the trigger ready to shoot. The rocks behind her prevent her from moving away any more and could only watch as he drew deadly closer to her.

"Think about it, Vera. Two little soldier boys sitting in the sun, one got frizzled up and then there was one." He talks to her with his soothing voice, coaxing her. Why did he have to have such an effect on her? She thought…She thought she could have loved him.

"Vera, give me the gun." Their eyes meet. He was careful not to startle her in any way just in case she did shoot him. Her legs feel like jelly, almost collapsing underneath her, "Give me the gun, Vera." His hands now lay over the revolver and her trembling arm. She couldn't do it.

Finally, she let go of the revolver and fell onto her weak knees with a wailing sob. She waits for the gun shot to ring out, the one that will kill her and be done with it. Vera can't look at him and keeps her head low staring at sand and water running along the shore around her. A hand touches her head. Fingers caress through her hair with gentle strokes, and then a pair of knees comes falling in front of her before she is brought into a broad chest in a closed embrace.

Phillip throws the gun aside and holds her close to him, showing he wasn't mad or going to kill her. Sure, she just accused him being the murderer and almost shot him, but he didn't care. Vera was his little devil, a dark soul he needs in his life and he wasn't going to let such a unique creature slip away. What has just happened shows him she was almost capable of doing it, if it had been someone else then she probably would have shot them.

"It's ok, Vera," he whispers into her ear, "I don't blame you for being afraid, but I'm not the murderer. I have killed people before but I'm not responsible for the murders here. I need you to trust me if we're going to survive this. I'll find who's behind all this and when I do I'll put a bullet in his head, or you can." He chuckles coldly, "Whatever you desire I'll make happen."

His words affect her. Warmth swells through her heart and eases her nerves, now calm she holds onto him and nuzzles her head into his shoulder. The things he does to her, it was so powerful. There have been plenty of chances for him to kill her and yet here they are together. True, he has killed people before, but she doesn't care. They both have done horrible things and she can't help but crave for his dangerous nature.

"Vera, you're a beautiful liar, anyone will believe what you tell them. You can manipulate your way out of thing's just with words, that's a gift. But I can tell when people are lying, including you. Tell me you trust me. Say it."

Her fingers grip at his shirt with her head buried underneath his chin. She can feel his lips pressing against her forehead making her exhale softly. Vera needs him.

"Say it, Vera. Say it."

"I trust you," it was barely a whisper but he hears her. His cruel, devilish chuckle breathes against her ear, and then her chin is lifted under his finger so their eyes meet. He gives a wide smirk which only wants to make her kiss him.

"That's a good girl," he stands and helps her up before fetching his gun again. She's pulled along behind him as they make their way up the beach and up to higher ground.


There was no plan. Neither of them knew what they were doing. Phillip tires to look around over landscape view and spot anything that might give a clue. Vera stands close by and watches him. She feels a little sick, over what just happened and what she almost did, she couldn't believe she was going to shoot him. What if she had, then what?

One little soldier boy felt all alone, he went and hanged himself, and then there were none.

That was her answer. Phillip was right. She tries to gather her thoughts and sits down on top of a boulder. Everyone else was dead. It was just the two of them. Who can it be? It frustrates her she doesn't know. All those dead bodies in the house was a nightmare, it scares her just thinking about those dead people.

"All those dead bodies…" She whispers to herself and repeats them again, "Dead people…Bodies?" A theory comes to mind and she looks over at Phillip, "Were all the bodies checked?"

He turns to face her, "Huh? Yeah, I think they were, why?"

"What if someone isn't dead? What if they faked their death?"

First he doesn't quite understand but soon it slowly becomes clear to him, "Blore said he saw Armstrong leave the house last night, and we found his body on the rocks, he was clearly pushed off the cliff. It's just as you said. Four little soldier boys going to sea, a red herring swallowed one and then there were Three. He could've lied about one of them being dead, or was behind it with the killer from the start, who knows. He might have thought they would spare him, but instead the killer kills him anyway." He rubs both his hands through his hair and exhales a heavy chuckle, "Of course!"

It happens so fast but Vera feels his lips on her own in a hard kiss. Pulling away he grins down at her speechless face, "Such a clever girl."


"What if I'm wrong?" They head back towards the mansion in hurried movements.

"No. What you say makes sense, and it's the perfect cover because no one will suspect a dead person."

He was right. No one would suspect a dead person. It made more sense hearing him say I and she hurries along behind him as they grow closer to the mansion. Upon entering Phillip was about to check the bodies of the fallen party, until the sound of week creaking was heard coming from the dining room, the sound of someone's footsteps on the floor boards.

"There's someone here," Vera whispered, "Phillip?"

"Stay behind me," He warns her and he slowly makes his way towards the source of the sound with Vera close behind him.

What they saw was not what they expected, they didn't know what to expect. There he was, Judge Lawrence Wargrave, sitting at the table with a brandy on a coaster in front of him. He played his death and had promised to spare Armstrong if he helped him with his plan, of course he lied, and no one was supposed to survive. When he saw both Lombard and Claythorne enter the room together he was disappointed. They weren't supposed to find each other, to find love. It's because of this he knew his plan isn't going to go as planned.

"Honestly, I was only expecting Miss Claythorne to be here," Wargrave exhales, "but she let her feeling's get in the way. Such a shame too, my plan was running along so nicely."

Phillip shoots, without hesitation. One bullet in the head was all that needs to be done. Vera doesn't make a sound or move from her spot. She was still shaken at seeing Wargrave alive, well not anymore. She never suspected the old man to be the one, he was ill and weak, or so she thought he was. Now, it's finally over.

"It's over," Phillip lowers his gun in exhaustion, "Fucking old bastard thought he could get away with it."

"He almost did," Vera softly says trembling a little, "I almost shot you."

"But you didn't," he smirks, "Vera, we survived, it's over."

She doesn't say anything as she stares at the lifeless body of Wargrave who now lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood seeping from his head. It was ironic. It was the same way they had found him when they thought his to be killed. What if this was another one of his tricks? There was only one way to make sure he really is good as dead.

"Give me the gun."

Philip furrows his brows, "Why?"

"Just give me the gun."

He doesn't know why she wants it, but he hands the revolver to her anyway and curiously watches her.

Vera steps closer to the body of Wargrave and stares into his dead eyes. She aims the revolver at his head, holding it there for a moment before pulling the trigger, firing point blank, then another shot, and another and another until the revolver clicked repeatedly with no bullets left. It isn't enough. A frustrated scream leaves her and starts hitting the hilt of the weapon against the judge's head. She doesn't stop. Blood covers her hands and spits against her face after each repeated hit, and it was only when Phillip pulls her away by her waist that she finally stops. Both of them sat on the cold floor panting heavily. What she hears next is Phillip, and he was laughing.

His chuckles are cold, full of amusement and glee at what just happened. Seeing Vera shoot and hit the judge's head without hesitation made him see a whole new side of her. It arouses him, a thrill shooting through his heart down directly to his cock. She's everything he needs, another sinner in his life, a dark soul to fore fill his desires. He kisses the side of her bloody cheek and pets her hair in tender strokes, "Oh Vera, you are a wicked woman. I'm so proud of you."

"I needed to make sure." Her voice whispers and stares ahead. "He can't come back, ever. I had to make sure he's really fucking dead."

"Oh, he's dead alright." He grins and stares at the unrecognisable face of Wargrave. "He's very fucking dead. It's just like I told you, death is not for us."

"Not for us," She repeats the words believing them more now. His ghost like chuckles ghost against the side of her neck with his strong hands rubbing over her shoulders.

"That's right my Vera, not for us."


Once Vera calms down enough they got to work at gathering as much wood from within the house and piling it outside to make the biggest fire they can so there was no way anyone would miss it from the mainland. They even move Armstrong's body off the rocks and back inside the house on his own. It was the decent thing to do, even though Armstrong turned his back on them, but they needed to do it, otherwise when someone came and saw his body there might be raised questions.

They brake as much furniture that could burn, any wood that could be removed or broken off they added to the pile. Phillip uses a bottle of brandy to start the fire. It might be a while before anyone would show. It takes hours to gather what they can before setting fire to the pile. There was no way anyone would miss the fire. All they had to do now was play the waiting game until someone came.

"Last bottle of brandy," Phillip said examining the bottle in his hands, "last bottle we'll share on this forsaken island."

Vera stares mindlessly at the open water. She sat on the porch with a fleece blanket wrapped around her shoulders Phillip had given her. After cleaning herself off from the blood and changing her clothes she feels she can breathe for the first time this week. When she returns to her room she finds a chair and rope hanging from the hook that has been bothering her all week. So this was Wargrave's plan, she would hang herself once she was the only one left? Well, he almost won. Phillip sees it too and tells her to get her clothes and use another room. Neither of them enters that room again.

The weather isn't as bad as it has been, so she felt much more comfortable sitting out in the air and keeps her eyes glued on the wide open water for anything.

She accepts the bottle from Phillip and takes a swing of it, "How long do you think until someone will come?"

"Hard to say, could be hours, days, but someone is bound to come." He's given the bottle back and takes a swing himself, "How are you holding up?"

She didn't expect such a question from him, "I'm ok…" That was a lie and he knew it.

It remains silent between them. The only sounds were the roaring fire not far from them and the wind that hasn't stopped since their arrival, though not as wild as it has been most nights.

"Why'd you kill that boy?" Vera faces and stares at him. She didn't expect him to ask which makes him smirk, "Everyone was invited here because we all did a crime and got away with it. I admitted right away, because I had nothing to hide, I have no regrets. I needed those supplies and diamonds and I got paid well for it. All the others lied, of course they did, and so did you. So, why'd you kill him?"

It was his instincts that made him see through people. He couldn't tell the truth but he had the ability to see when someone was lying. This she knew, and she can't lie to him, no matter how hard she tries. Vera never told anyone the truth what happened that day. If she had, she would have been hanged in the blink of an eye. She looks away from him to avoid his gaze and keeps silent.

"It's not healthy to keep all your problems bottled up, best to get it off your chest. We've both done things that will have us hanged, but it's only us here, no one else. You can tell me anything, I won't judge."

She meets his gaze again. He was lingering on his cigarette between his lips, blowing small smokes between each inhale and exhale. They have only known each other not even for a week, it was insane, because it feels like she has always known him. After hearing the things he's done she felt that little braver to confess it.

"Cyril Hamilton was his name. I was his governess and a friend to his mothers. He was a good boy, smart, happy, but weak. He wasn't a good swimmer but he always wanted to go swimming, this of course he was never allowed." He already knows this, but she is just explaining it from the start briefly, "I was in love with his uncle, Hugo. We wanted to get married but he couldn't afford it. Everything was inherited to Cyril, leaving Hugo with nothing. He didn't care he had nothing, btu we loved each other."

"Love," he muses softly with a smirk and offers her a cigarette, "Go on."

She accepts the cigarette and lights it up, inhaling the bud and breathing out deeply as she continues. "Cyril was the only thing keeping us from getting married, one child. It wasn't fair. All I wanted was for me and Hugo to be happy. I loved Cyril, I truly did, but he was in the way of my happiness. I was at the beach with Cyril and I told him he could go swimming, he was so excited, and I just sat there watching him run out into the water. I made it look like I was trying to save him. I pretended I was drowning before a boat came for us. I was pulled on, acting weak and coughing up water. They got to Cyril, but it was too late, there was nothing anyone could do to save him." She doesn't see Phillip smirking as he listens. He's fond of her, a pretender who will do anything to have her way. "They all wanted to hear what happened. I told everyone I went to get a ball and bat so we could play, and while my back was turned he went out in the water on his own. I told them I tried. They all believed me, even Cyril's mother, everyone but Hugo."

He now understands, "Hugo knew you too well." She nods.

"I'm fast and strong. I could have easily saved Cyril that day, and no one knew I was capable but he did. Hugo confronted me and told me directly he didn't buy a word, told me he understands why I did it, but he loved his nephew more than anything. There was no proof, but he said if there ever was he would see me at the gallows. I couldn't stay there anymore, I left town and moved on. But what happened haunts me, I see Cyril standing there, soaking wet, and staring at me. I see him in my dreams, even in the day. I do feel guilty but I don't want to be, I just want to move on."

"Did you do it for love, or for fortune?" She knew the answer.

"Both. I wanted to be loved and have the fortune, I wanted everything….I want everything." She didn't realise she had these words and he snickers hearing for say it.

"I admire you, Vera."

"You admire I killed a little boy because of my greed?"

"You and I are not like other people. Let's say you are greedy? Well, so am I. I want things just as much as you do and I don't just let them slip away, I go for it, even if I have to kill people." Vera knows he's talking about when he was in East-Africa.

"Would you do it again?"

Phillip grins murderously, "I would."

Vera isn't sure how to think hearing this. He was the type of man everyone keeps away from, yet she feels herself wanting him more. Looking away she stares at the open water again in silence. It stays like this for a moment before Phillip breaks it.

"Not a lot of women are as strong like you, Vera. The reason you feel guilty is because you let it. I can help you." He shifts himself beside her and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. "When we get off this island we'll get as far away from all this. We'll make our way through the states. There are people who own me payments and I have a few friends who will help me out. We're going to be ok." She nods before realising what he had said.

"W-wait, we?"

He holds a firm stare at her, "We can't separate Vera."

Her brows crease, "How come?"

Phillip is now the one to crease his brows at her. His deep frown spells confusion, and hurt, something she hasn't seen from him before. "Vera," he takes her face in both his hands and stares coldly into her eyes, "Nothing will ever be the same. Wargrave knew of what we all had done which means there's bound to be more. What if Hugo was behind this as well?" Hearing the mention of her former lovers name makes her quiver with fear, "Once word gets out what happened here it'll be mentioned that two survivors walked away. There are most likely others who want us both dead. Death is not for us."

"I-I'd thought you'd want to get as far away from me?" she questions trying to gather all this up.

"Bull shit," he hisses lowly before planting his lips against hers. The kiss is hard and passionate, as it's always is, which of course she enjoys from him. He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against hers. "Stick with me, Vera." She holds his stare, feeling herself lost in space as she stares into his beautiful eyes, the eyes of a sinner, just like her own.

"They're going to want to know what happened here. What should we say?" He took that as her answer and smirks.

"That's when you come in. You're good with your pretty words. They'll believe anything you say. We'll say Wargrave had a crazy obsession with a poem, ten little soldiers. He was insane and started killing everyone. We were invited here by him for open jobs available but turned out to be part of his little game. He attacked you, I shot him and you hit him in the face with a fire pick, that'll explain the mangled damage. The gun, it belonged to him. I'll make sure the voice over recorder is destroyed and anything else that won't suspect us. Think you can handle that, darling?" The way he calls her darling sends shivers through her, she likes it. She is mesmerised by his words and his dark looks clouding over. He had such a powerful effect on her, she couldn't explain how. She wanted all of him. One of her hands moves up and closes over his while giving a small smile. "Yeah…I can handle that."

"Good girl. Together?"

"Together."


Just as they hoped a boat had come late that afternoon. Phillip and Vera stuck with their story, and it was perfect. Once returning to the mainland they were both questioned by detectives for days before they were allowed to leave town. They both got out of there that day, getting as far away as possible and to the nearest train station. At first they had no money. Vera had to talk her way for the both of them, which was easy. She told her sob story of them being robbed, left with nothing and needed to go to the furriest town where her ill mother was. It worked.

There was no doubt about it. She was in love with Phillip, as he loved her. They were perfect for each other. He understood her and he took care of her like she always wanted from a man. They both knew what they did in their pasts and it didn't matter. Being together was what they wanted. They left Soldier Island in the past, a bad dream was all it was and they came out of it, together.

They had vanished and left no trace. Vera changed her identity, making her Mrs. Lombard. They were married. Phillip even brought her a ring, one with a large diamond stone that made her eyes glitter at the sight of them. He had much a fortune coming in from people who owned him which saved them a lot of trouble. She had it all. A man to love, fortune and she didn't even have to pretend to get any of it. It was perfect.

Now months have passed. They are in France. A house owned by a friend of Phillip's was away and they stayed until his return, which wasn't for another six months at least. By then they will be in Italy, then who knows where. Phillip did suggest they leave the states for good, which she didn't mind. She wants to see the world, see what so many don't in their lifetime. He wants her to see everything, that's why they were in no rush to get out. They went along as time flowed.

Vera stands in front of the glass window in her silk nightdress. She stares out at the magnificent twilight views of Paris, surrounding buildings and the Eiffel tower not far off from her view. Strong arms wrap themselves around her waist, pulling her back into a toned care chest.

"Darling, what are you doing up so late?" Phillip whispers devilishly

"Just admiring the view we have," she smiles and leans back into him.

"You may admire it in the daylight. Come back to bed," he pulls her along until he lay back down on the soft sheets with her crawling up on top of him. Leaning down she kisses his lips followed by a gentle purr.

"I love you," he grins and steals another kiss from her.

"Love you too."


Well, I rather enjoyed this very much. Again, I'm sorry this won't be continued but I hope everyone enjoyed it. I'll fix any mistakes another time. Review if you like and have a good day. Piece out!