Actions

Work Header

He's Gone Now, Honey.

Work Text:

I shouldn't be here. The single thought bounces around Abby's mind.  Olivia would tell her not to be here. Quinn would tell her not to be here. They all would. The next thought makes her blood run so cold, Abby freezes to her spot. 

David would have told me not to be here. He'd have wanted me to go home. She can almost hear him. Making her promise him things, lying next to her in bed laughing about how he'll still love her when they're old and grey, and then it hits her.  He'd been lying to her all along.  But he's left her, and now she's the only one in her circle without someone to keep her going.

She goes over the list in her head, mentally ticking them off. Golden couple Fitz and Olivia. Mellie and Marcus, Charlie and Quinn, Huck and. . . whoever it is he's dating now.  It doesn't matter. She's the only one alone. And she hates it. Hates it because it wasn't meant to be this way. She wanted to go see David's body, say goodbye one last time, but suddenly a dread fills her, and she turns and flees. The only sensation she has left is the feel of the pistol in her coat pocket, the one Huck now insists she carry. It makes Abby sick. 

I'm not a killer. She knows that. Huck knew that, too, but he pressed her, wanted her to take it. For her protection, he'd said. He couldn't lose friends, he'd said. What makes her even more ill is that he'd told her this was David's gun. She never believed him. David? Her David? Carrying a gun? He is, or he was-- she mentally corrects as her stomach spins again--too gentle to carry a gun. It's also atypical, printed plastic rather than metal. It was untraceable and virtually undetectable. Huck had explained it all to her when he'd presented it to her. She laughs at the thought now. David, pacifist that he seemed to be, could only carry a weapon that might melt after one shot. 

When she reaches her destination, she smiles. This, the place she once dreaded, would be the place where she finally got answers.  The ones she needs for herself, for David. She walks in, smiles, offers her info to the guard, slips by, the gun left alone in her purse.  When she reaches the cell she's looking for, she smiles. She flashes her credentials as she walks in and the guard allows her to enter. She doesn't even know how she coaxes him to leave them alone, but she does. While he tells her what she wants to know, Abby realizes he's a stone cold killer. She only has one option. 

"Abby, what are you--?", Jake Ballard starts to speak, but he doesn't get far. Thankfully, it doesn't backfire. A single shot to the head, a single shot in the gun, enough for Abby to make it look like it could have been a suicide. He groans, slumps to the floor, crimson stained on the wall as she places the gun in his hand, after wiping off her prints . Watching closely, she smiles as he takes his last breath. 

"That was for David, you son of a bitch. Checkmate.", she whispers, just before she watches him die. A shuddering breath and he's gone.  Then she gets up, screams. Pretends to be shaken, lets the guard escort her out in the chaos. 

The news spreads fast. Friends come to comfort her even more, and she lets them. After all, it's not an easy thing to kill a man.
Quinn holds her. 

"It's okay. He's gone now, honey, it's all over.", she says. No one notices Abby's small smile. She'll never tell the truth, never need to, if things go right. The words echo in her head. Jake Ballard is gone. Her revenge is as cold as ice. And it's true, that's how it's best served.