TURQUOISE

A/N: So we've reached the final chapter. Thank you for staying for the whole ride!

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Two men had set their minds about doing it. One was determined to avenge his family's downfall at the hands of the NYPD. The other one was determined to show her just how deeply he felt for her. One was set on punishing, the other one, in erasing all doubts from her mind. One was looking for revenge; the other one, for redemption.

One made his way up the stairs calmly, taking his time. The other one also took his time, kissing his way down her body. They both had a defined mission in mind, both set on completing it until they were satisfied with the results. That their final objectives were completely different was of no relevance at that point; neither one of them would stop what they had already set in motion.

The man in glasses had no problem at all getting inside the apartment; its occupants had been to busy with each other to remember to lock it. He couldn't help but to chuckle at their eagerness and lack of precaution. He studied the room before him, bathed in the soft light of the corridor: an empty pizza box sitting on the breakfast bar, two barely touched glasses of wine sitting on the coffee table, DVD boxes strewn around the floor and the trail of discarded clothes leading to the bedroom.

Inside the bedroom, his hands were running all over her torso, trying to memorize every single line and nuance of it; the way her ribs moved under her flesh as she breathed, the way her nipples responded to the ministrations of his lips. He had dreamed of this moment a thousand nights over, but everything paled to the reality he was experiencing just then.

The man inspected the apartment with detached curiosity; he had no real interest in knowing how they lived and yet he felt slightly disappointed as they failed to live up to his expectations: if they were the corrupt pigs he had assumed they'd be, their surroundings didn't do much to show for it. No luxury or unnecessary adornment, but cozy and homely as far as he could see. No lack of electronic appliances, but nothing he wouldn't find in the average American home. A noise coming from the bedroom interrupted his musings.

Her moans rose and fell like prayers escaping her lips in rhythm with his kisses. She breathed his name as she sucked in air to breathe as the turmoil of emotion inside of her reached its climax and erupted. He had never been enamored of his name, but hearing it in her voice, in that tone, at that precise moment, made him feel like it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

The man cursed his luck. He had expected that, after two hours, they'd be done with their business and fast asleep. He secretly admires his enemy's stamina, as he couldn't remember the last time loving in his own bed had lasted more than half an hour. He was faced with a choice: he could either wait around until they were both asleep or he could forget about killing them today and keep his vigil until the next opportunity presented itself. Weighing pros and cons, he decided to wait them out.

He knew he was lost the moment her hand slid down his chest, followed by her mouth, her hair trailing close behind. He tried to stop her, tried to tell her there was no need for this kind of retribution, tried to hold back… but soon, it was her name he was murmuring on hoarse whispers, entwined with blasphemies and divine pleas. And he pleaded, and begged, unashamed, until he couldn't stand it anymore, he couldn't bear to not be inside of her, a part of her, anymore. He pulled her up, and two became one as their mouths hungrily fused together.

The man had climbed out into the fire escape, and was silently smoking is third cigarette. The first moments he'd been outside he had been worried about being seen, but then he realized that if he stayed in the shadows no one would be able to distinguish him. The location was a vantage point, save for the acoustics. She was a screamer, all right, and his moans would wake the dead… from the sound of it, they were having the time of their lives, and in a way, he considered himself lenient in having allowed them to have this last piece of happiness before dying.

Sleep soon overcame them, sated and happy to be in one another's arms. Outside, the dying glow of a lit cigarette signaled the end of the waiting period. Quietly slipping back inside, the man approached the door of the bedroom where his victims lay, unsuspecting. The time for lenience was over.

She hated leaving the comfort of his arms, but she simply couldn't go to sleep until she had gone to the bathroom. She slid off the bed as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb him, and pondered if she should slip something on or not.

The man reached for the gun. She reached for the door.

The man had not expected this sudden turn of events. Not quite ready to shoot, he found himself staring into her eyes. They opened first, quickly followed by her mouth as she let out a scream of unexpected fear. The man had to act quickly, his presence now discovered. No time to attach the silencer to the muzzle, he shot her once between the eyes.

His instincts would normally kick in quicker, but the emotional and physical exhaustion had taken their toll and it took him a bit longer than usual to react to the sound of gun shot.

The man stepped over the dead woman's body. He sensed more than saw the figure of the man rousing from the bed and he quickly fired two more shots. The man inside the bedroom slumped to the floor. The man with the glasses knew he'd be better off if he verified if the cop was dead, but he was sure the gunshots had alerted some neighbor and he wasn't sure how long he had before someone came by to check what was going on. Given the fact he had just killed two cops, it was in his best interest to leave the scene of the crime as soon as possible.

Her lifeless eyes stared up at him, a muted green protest over her own death. The man register the look, but he didn't feel regret. He simply did what he had to do. On the way out, he noticed a photograph hanging on the wall and his subconscious registered something he had missed. He looked at the photo in disbelief and almost ran back to the body of the woman to make sure… he knew he was running out of time, but he had to make sure…

A noise startled the man and he looked up to see the cop holding a gun to him, identifying himself, demanding he dropped his own gun. The man chastised himself for not checking if he had gotten it right the first time around, but he guessed he could still finish the job, and lifted his gun.

The shot rang throughout the apartment. A gun fell to the floor and blood began to seep and then drop, as the pain became unbearable and consciousness was lost. The man's last coherent thought was that, for a dead woman, she was one hell of a shot…

Flack and Angell closed in, guns still trained, and managed to hear his last word:

"Mistake…"

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A/N: Not the kind of ending I was expecting ( I had originally planned to actually kill Woody and Jessie) but the best I could come up to respect the style of the rest of the piece. All hate mail and death threats should be directed to Marialisa, whom I'm blaming for this (you DID encourage me to take the roads less travelled hun!).