Temptation
May. 16th, 2005 02:40 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsIn an office in New York, Pete reads his email.
He wasn't going to hit send. He knew that. It'd be beyond stupid. It was stupid enough even writing the damn reply in the first place.
His eye fell on the plane tickets sitting on his desk - the taxi'd be here to take him to the airport in a minute. Norway, and then a trawler north to dig up the first of the secrets he'd helped bury. It'd get him that much more capital and favours owed when he sold it on, it'd help convince Shaw that he wasn't fucking about.
He thought of the bodies steaming in the Arctic cold, scientists and soliders. Men he'd been drinking and joking with two days before. They'd killed them - him and that damn project. And he was about to dig it up again.
He knew it'd be like this. This was the job, and he knew what it meant when he took it.
He tabbed away from the reply he wasn't going to send, and paged through the photos again.
All the things he was going to miss, right there on the screen. All the things that made the job worth doing.
He shouldn't even have been letting himself think about it. It'd be so easy to pick up the phone, call Dom, and end the whole damn thing. To go back, to meet this Meggan kid, to be there when the baby was born. Hell, just to have a drink with his friends.
He tabbed back to the reply he wasn't going to send. The one where he said he was sorry. The one where he told her what it meant, to see those photos. Where he asked about Meggan. Where he relaxed, and was a normal human for a minute. For a second, his pointer hovered over the "Send" button.
Then he thought about what would happen when Shaw moved on the school. What Selene would do to any of the kids that didn't get away.
Maybe, if he was really lucky, he could get through this without too much blood on his hands.
This was what he'd been afraid of. The way he had to think. That he'd settle for "not too much" (and he knew that for the lie it was, anyway) instead of "none". 18 months at Xaviers, pretending he didn't think like that. Pretending that he wouldn't throw things away in the name of the greater good. Pretending that there were limits, things he wouldn't do. Pretending he was better than the bastards he'd worked for. Pretending that he'd really only been a blunt instrument for those years, and not exactly as bad as the rest of them.
He looked at the photos again.
He went back to the reply, and hit delete. Then he purged all record of the Amanda's email.
Time to go to work.
He wasn't going to hit send. He knew that. It'd be beyond stupid. It was stupid enough even writing the damn reply in the first place.
His eye fell on the plane tickets sitting on his desk - the taxi'd be here to take him to the airport in a minute. Norway, and then a trawler north to dig up the first of the secrets he'd helped bury. It'd get him that much more capital and favours owed when he sold it on, it'd help convince Shaw that he wasn't fucking about.
He thought of the bodies steaming in the Arctic cold, scientists and soliders. Men he'd been drinking and joking with two days before. They'd killed them - him and that damn project. And he was about to dig it up again.
He knew it'd be like this. This was the job, and he knew what it meant when he took it.
He tabbed away from the reply he wasn't going to send, and paged through the photos again.
All the things he was going to miss, right there on the screen. All the things that made the job worth doing.
He shouldn't even have been letting himself think about it. It'd be so easy to pick up the phone, call Dom, and end the whole damn thing. To go back, to meet this Meggan kid, to be there when the baby was born. Hell, just to have a drink with his friends.
He tabbed back to the reply he wasn't going to send. The one where he said he was sorry. The one where he told her what it meant, to see those photos. Where he asked about Meggan. Where he relaxed, and was a normal human for a minute. For a second, his pointer hovered over the "Send" button.
Then he thought about what would happen when Shaw moved on the school. What Selene would do to any of the kids that didn't get away.
Maybe, if he was really lucky, he could get through this without too much blood on his hands.
This was what he'd been afraid of. The way he had to think. That he'd settle for "not too much" (and he knew that for the lie it was, anyway) instead of "none". 18 months at Xaviers, pretending he didn't think like that. Pretending that he wouldn't throw things away in the name of the greater good. Pretending that there were limits, things he wouldn't do. Pretending he was better than the bastards he'd worked for. Pretending that he'd really only been a blunt instrument for those years, and not exactly as bad as the rest of them.
He looked at the photos again.
He went back to the reply, and hit delete. Then he purged all record of the Amanda's email.
Time to go to work.
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