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I'd take a bullet for you

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He was standing in the living room when he heard a metallic click. Slowly, he turned around, lifting his hands into the air. There she stood, his beloved wife, pointing a handgun with a silencer at his face. He shot her a sad, lopsided smirk.

“So it's you? You know, when I said I'd probably take a bullet for you, this is not what I had in mind, you know. This isn't nearly as heroic.”

The slight tremor in her hands was the only sign of her hesitation on her otherwise impassive disposition.

“Will you at least tell me why?”

“Why what?” Her voice was steady and cold, holding none of the emotions that darkened her gaze.

“Why do I have to die? Better yet, why are you the one who'll pull the trigger?”

“Because you loved me,” she answered like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Is that the answer to my first question or the second one?”

“Both.” Neither of them moved, both just staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

“You're right,” he finally admitted, “I do. And that's why I have to do this.” He lunged at her and they both landed behind the couch as they struggled for the gun.

He ended up on his back with his wife straddling him, the gun once again aimed at his forehead.

“What the hell was that,” she hissed, a frown marring her forehead.

“I was trying to take the gun from you, or wasn't that obvious?”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock. Anyway, you just made this a lot easier. Don't move an inch, got it?” She stood up, looked down and pulled the trigger.


He stiffened at the muffled explosion and screwed his eyes shut. Seconds passed and nothing happened. He heard his wife shift her weight and cracked open his eyes. Her head was turned towards the open window, staring out into the night before she gave a small nod.

“I'm sorry love, it had to be done. Don't take it too personally,” she sneered at him. He looked at her like she had gone mad. She tucked her hair behind her ear, tapping it almost imperceptibly. He wisely stayed silent.

Suddenly, the front door opened and two people in white overalls walked in carrying a body-bag. His wife walked towards them before exchanging a few words and jerking her thumb back towards him. They both walked around her and started towards him before she whirled around, firing three shots. One for each clean-up man and one straight into the ceiling fan's light-bulb, plunging the room into darkness.

Another shot rung through the air, coming from outside. Probably a sniper. A hand grasped his shoulder and he jumped.

“Come on, we have to go, quickly,” his wife hissed in his ear. She dragged him up and towards the garage.

“Get into the car, quickly,” she urged him. Pulling the keys of her company car from her pocket, she hopped onto the passenger seat and started the engine.

“Buckle up love, here we go,” she warned.

“But the garage door isn't even opening yet,” he protested.

His wife simply ignored him as she put all her weight on the gas. The car shot forward, ripping the door clean off. She turned a sharp left, narrowly avoiding the neighbor's mailbox and sped down the street. There was a long silence in the car before the husband broke it, his voice deceptively calm.

“Honey, care to tell me what that was all about?”

“You got too close to the truth. Those deaths you were investigating? It was us, or rather, the organization I work... worked for. One of the rookies made a mistake, leaving behind evidence for you to follow. When they recruited a team to eliminate you, I volunteered. I said some horrible things about you to justify why I'd want you dead, and it worked. They let me in on it and, well, here we are.”

“Is that why you tried to stop me? You were worried they'd come after me,” her husband realized.

“I tried everything, but when I realized it wouldn't work, I decided to work on a escape-plan instead. According to their database, we don't exist anymore, or if you prefer, we never did. I booked plane tickets under an alias and got us both false passports to go with them. “

“... Do you even realize how many laws you've broken? I'm a police-officer. I'm aiding and abetting just by sitting in the car with you,” he muttered, horrified.

“Yeah, well, you're the one who married the assassin. I'm a professional and I haven't been caught yet,” she paused, “but if after this, if you want to part ways, I won't hold it against you.”

“Are you kidding me? After everything you did for me? For us? Like I said before, I love you. This hasn't changed anything. It never will.” They lapsed into silence again after his confession.

“Why did you try to take the gun from me,” she suddenly asked.

“Maybe I didn't want you to live with my blood on your hands. I wanted to protect you,” he defended.

Understanding, his wife promptly slapped him over the head.

“Ow! Hey, eyes on the road!”

“Don't you ever think like that again, you stupid, self-sacrificing jerk! You nearly destroyed my brilliant plan with your antics. You're lucky I'm stronger than you,” she growled.

“Of course, you aren't. I gave you back the gun because I didn't want to hurt you,” he sniffed.

“Keep telling yourself that, love, if it helps you sleep at night,” his wife reassured him, patting his knee.

“Insufferable woman, you're lucky I love you so much,” he playfully grumbled.

“Don't I know it,” she shot back. They glanced at each-other, sharing a laugh as they drove towards the sunrise.