TEN

❛ Let's go kill the cunt, yeah? ❜

ఌ

PRESENT

As Vanessa's body falls still once more, Tangerine shakes his head, falling back against the wall with a sob. He can't even bare to look over at his brother, hating seeing the crimson liquid leak through
his shirt.

Lemon never bleeds was a lie.

A ringing phone causes him to quieten his sniffs as he straightens up slightly, peering out of the bathroom door and down the train isle, noticing a small flip phone buzzing against the carpet. Grumbling, he stands up, wiping the back of his hand along his nose and mouth before bending down to pick the device up.

He flicks it open, not recognising the number as he manages to find out how to accept the call. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lowers himself down into a seat.

"Ness?" A voice calls from the phone, "Vanessa—"

Tangerine recognises the voice immediately, "James, she's— she's dead."

The line falls silent for a moment while James tries to find the correct words to reply to his brother in law, "I— What do you mean?"

"I— I don't know, she must have hit her head or something," Tangerine swallows, "She— she won't fucking wake up. Lemon was shot, and I— fuck! I don't know what to do."

James drops his forehead into his palm as he listens to how distressed the man is. He bites his lip as he runs through every possibility of his sister's death. He had been on the phone the entire time during her fight, but eventually everything fell silent other than a few footsteps and grumbles. He had ended the call, presuming the phone had been lost.

"Have you checked her pulse?" He rushes, refusing the accept it, "I mean, is she definitely dead?"

Tangerine curses lowly to himself, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before he rushing back into the bathroom. He holds the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he slowly reaches towards Vanessa.

"I'm checking her pulse," Tangerine says quietly, his hand shaking as one of his palms rested against her cold cheek.

James' jaw drops, "You're telling me you didn't check her pulse immediately?"

"No, okay? I was fucking stressed, and my brother's most definitely fucking dead!" He snarls, trying his hardest not to look at his limp brother, "I— I'm an pessimist, aright? I guessed Ness would be dead too."

Tangerine's index and middle finger finally press against her pulse point on her neck and he sucks in a breath as he puts on his conversation in feeling a pulse. After felling a rhythm of beats below his fingers he let out a sigh of relief and dropped his head to his chin.

"She's alive," He informs James, "Holy fuck."

James let out a breath, "Wake her up."

Tangerine grinds his jaw, "How do you suggest I do that, eh? I sat here for ten fucking minutes earlier trying to wake her up. She's out hard."

"Water," James states, "Throw it on her."

Tangerine furrows his brows, "Okay, but if she wakes up pissed that she's soaked, then I'm fucking blaming you."

"Do you want her to wake up or not?" James snaps.

"Course I fucking do," Tangerine spits, standing up and stepping over Lemon's legs to reach the sink. He creates a small bowl with his hands and lets the cold water collect in his palms before he quickly swirls around and throws the liquid onto Vanessa's relaxed face.

Immediately, Vanessa lets out a horse cough and she lurches forward in surprises Her jaw drops as she runs her hand over her soaking face, feeling water sting her cuts as she takes a deep breath.

Tangerine dashes over to her, dropping the phone in the process but he leaves James shouting quietly through the device on the floor. He drops in front of her, hands cupping her face so she meets his eyes, but all he's met with is anger.

"You fucking soaked me," She snarls.

"And I thought you were fucking dead." Tangerine counters, pulling her into a kiss and she rolls her eyes before relaxing into it.

Then everything floods back to her at once; being on the phone with James then watching Lemon get shot. She's quick to pull away from Tangerine and a hand rests on his chest, then she notices the absence of his golden necklace around his neck.

"Tan, Lemon—" She begins, but she's cut off when her husband hums in understanding and nods his head to the side, still refusing to look at the man beside her.

She turns her head, eyes landing on Lemon and her eyes widen at his slumped state. A shaky hand comes up to her lips as she's quick to meet Tangerine's gaze once more.

"Tan, I'm so fucking sorry," She moves a hand to the back of his head, bringing him into a hug and he rests his forehead against her shoulder.

He sniffs, and sucks in a large breath before pulling away from the hug and slowly standing up, offering Vanessa a hand with a quivering smirk playing on his lips.

With a tilted head and creased brows, she looks up at his hand before taking it and allowing him to pull her up. She stumbles for a minute and a hand goes to her hand she Tangerine holds her in place by her waist.

"You okay, love?" He asks, eyes narrowed with concern as he scans her body up and down.

A quiet noise causes Vanessa to hold a finger to her lips as she drops her gaze down to the floor, noticing a phone laying beside the toilet. She glances back up at Tangerine with raised brows.

"It's James," He nods, "Still a fucking cunt, by the way. Just so you know, it was his idea for me to chuck water on you."

Rolling her eyes, Vanessa reaches down and grabs the phone, bringing it to her ear, "Hey, James."

"So I take it your husband finally did something right," James grumbles, "He didn't even the pulse before I told him to!"

Vanessa snorts, shaking her head as she looks over at Tangerine as he watches her carefully, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What is the cunt saying now, eh?" He snaps, as he points a finger at the phone in her hand, "Do not believe a single thing that fucker says."

Vanessa ignores him, "James, we really should go. Incase you've fucking forgotten, we're still stuck on this blasted train without a case and that blonde American is still very much alive."

"Ness, don't die aga—"

"Bye, James," She hums before quickly flicking the phone closed and throwing the device into the toilet carelessly.

Tangerine watches as Vanessa faces the mirror, running a hand through her hair before lifting the dress to revel the holster strapped around her thigh. He bites his lip as she slides out the pistol and cocks it before turning to face him.

"Fucking hell," He breathes.

She smirks, stepping over the two bodies on the floor and patting his shoulder as she steps out of the bathroom, "Let's go kill the cunt, yeah?"

He follows after her, smirking, "Looking forward to it, love."

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authors note.
idk what to say

how the actual flying fuck did england DRAW with the usa?!
i'm baffed at how shite we played