Disclaimer: I own nothing from Secret Window, SecretGarden. Unfortunately. But a gal can dream, can't she?

Author's Note: Yup. Zoë killed two men. Well, actually it was Ellie, but it was her just the same. I want to thank my friend Katie for helping me out with this story…it's been fun discussing it with you, gal! My fellow Johnny Depp obsessor, mwahaha! This chapter IS THE LAST ONE! Eek! sob You guys are awesome. I can't wait until June 22nd for the DVD to come out. I just don't like how right when I finish this fic, the DVD is going to come out and I'll get the urge to write another Secret Window fic all over again, I bet you. I want to thank you guys for reading and reviewing. Writer's Block is dedicated to all you guys. Because you rock my socks. Seriously. Happy reading, and good luck writing!



-"I knew it."-

Mort wrapped his arm tightly around Zo's hips before saying, "It's nice to see you again, Timothy, but now's not a good time for a social call."

"I knew you'd go through with it, Agent Oltie," Timothy replied seriously, "I'm glad you finally agreed to this. The Bureau will be pleased."

Agree with what? What the hell is he talking about?

I'm getting a bad feeling about this. He's fucking around with you guys, big time.

"Wh-what?" Zoë stammered. Mort was staring at Timothy in confusion.

"Bringing Mort down here! It was a good idea," Timothy said enthusiastically with a charming smile, "Now we can bring him in for questioning."

Mort's eyes widened, finally realizing what Timothy was implying. "She wouldn't…" he whispered, turning to Zoë, "You wouldn't."

"Timothy, what the fuck are you talking about? I'm fired, remember?" she said, her voice wavering. She was trying to act tough but she sure didn't sound like she was.

"C'mon, Mort, let's go downtown, buddy," Timothy coaxed, "We've got some questions to ask you." And then he extended his hand, adding, "Zoë, it's okay now. I can handle this."

Mort took a step away from both of them, eyes wild. "Zoë?" he said softly, "Did you lead me on? Did you lie to me?!"

"No!" Zoë cried, then turned to Timothy, "What are you trying to do, T? You know I'm with Mort now. I abandoned this case a long time ago!"

"Mort Rainey, just stay still," Timothy demanded, "We have a couple cops on the way and I don't want trouble."

But Mort didn't listen…he took another shaky step backwards. He let out a strangled gasp and said, "It can't be true. Zoë, tell me he's lying."

"He is…Mort, why don't you believe me? I wouldn't do this to you!"

"You could have lied about being fired…you wanted to come here, you may have wanted me to get caught," Mort shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her.

"But I killed for you," Zoë whispered back, standing completely still, "We said we wouldn't desert each other."

Timothy's expression turned to one of shock when he heard those words escape her lips. He reached for his gun and pointed it at Mort, who was still backing towards the door.

"Stay still, Mr. Rainey!" he said calmly, angrily, "I won't remind you again."

Zoë hysterically placed her body between them, staying in front of Mort with her arms crossed. "Don't, Timothy. Just don't." And suddenly the voice she heard behind her made her blood run cold.

"Don't worry, missus," Mort drawled, "I don't need protection from this stupid pilgrim. Don't you fret none."

Oh God. Shooter was back.

Timothy hissed, "Don't do this to yourself, Zoë. Get out of the way, dammit."

"That's no way to talk to the purty lady," 'Shooter' said in amusement, placing his hand on Zo's shoulder, "Now apologize before things get messy."

"I'm not apologizing," T said through clenched teeth, "Now get away from him, Zoë!"

Zoë turned to Mort and said hastily, "Shooter, don't do anything drastic. He has the gun, after all."

"It's a cryin' shame that you had to lie to Mort like that. Now our deal's off. It's good to be back, darlin'."

"But I didn't lie to Mort!" she cried, "Timothy's making up all of this shit!"

"Mort may believe some part o' your sad story, but I don't. Not by a long shot. Now if you'll kindly move aside, missus. I swears I won't hurt you until I kill the man." And with that he nodded towards Timothy.

"One step closer and I'll shoot!" Timothy yelled, sweat dripping from his brow, "Stay back!"

"A couple moments ago you were orderin' me to stop inchin' away," 'Shooter' chuckled menacingly, "Make up your goddamn mind." And after pushing Zoë out of the way, he began to slowly walk towards T, grinning cruelly.

"Zoë, I'll kill him," Timothy said, his voice wavering, "I won't hesitate to do so." And he unlocked the safety.

There's only one way to end this, babycakes. And it's going to end now.

She felt weird. Odd. She felt almost like she did when she was at Mort's house…with the police officers….

Oh shit.

Move over, bitches, I'm ready to party!

"Not yet," she whispered, "Not yet."

All right, sweetie. I'll give you a couple minutes. After that, he's mine.

Pulling the gun from her belt, Zoë said quietly, "Don't make me shoot you, Timothy."

Timothy had his gun on Mort, watching him, fear written all over his face. He slowly tensed his hand, pulling slightly on the trigger as 'Shooter' reached out to him.

She fired.

She winced from the loud bang it produced and watched in horror as Timothy dropped his own gun, stared at her in shock, and slumped over onto the carpet. The bullet had intercepted his stomach.

She crawled over to where Timothy lay, staring as he started choking on air, the blood beginning to stain his blue-collared work business shirt. He gaped at Zoë.


"I love him, Timothy. You would have killed him if I haven't intervened."


Tears were streaming down her face as she took her old friend's hand and held it to her cheek, "Yes, you would have. Don't deny it. And you made up those awful lies…"

"You were screwing up your life with that man, Zoë. I couldn't let you do it…"

Suddenly, he watched in terror as her face changed and she grinned, pressing her lips to his hand seductively. "I hope you enjoy death, you son of a bitch."


"It's Ellie, baby. Ellie. It's sad that a man like you has to die like this. You're a fine specimen." She ran a finger down his collar and laughed. His eyes glazed over and all the life left his body. Timothy was dead.

Ellie stared down at the pitiful body, a fresh smirk still on her lips. A warm hand rested on her shoulder and she glanced up.

"Thanks for all the help, missus. You sure are one hell of a shot." Shooter took her hand and helped her up off of the carpet.

"Why, aren't you the gentleman?" she teased, raising an eyebrow as she slid her arms around his neck, "I bet you aren't such a gentleman in bed."

He laughed, clearly pleased by her retort. "I would like to give you a try, darlin', but we better get out o' here."

"But of course," she replied, linking her arm in his. She yanked his head down to hers and their lips feasted off of each other, molding, probing without mercy.

"Ouch," he muttered, pulling back from her. He touched his bottom lip with his finger. She had bit it in the midst of her passionate torture.

"Crazy bitch," he said with a smile, pulling her roughly against him.

"What can I say? Southern men have always been my favorite toys. I just seem to get a bit carried away with them." She then promptly licked the blood off of his bleeding lip with her tongue, smiling impishly up at him.

"Ellie, you're going to drive me crazy," he said huskily through his thick southern accent, "Christ…"

"I would say the same about you, but the fact of the matter is…we already are."

He chuckled, utterly enchanted by her. They both stepped over the rigid body, walking arm and arm back to the car, deliciously planning how they would make their get-away far far away from Tashmore Lake.

And from that moment on they didn't bother to dwell in the past. All they cared about was the future and how they would spend it together, no matter who would go after them, no matter who tried to uncover their secrets. After all, who'd want to purposefully cross paths with Shooter and Ellie?

Whoever dared to dream would have to be completely and utterly insane.

The End