Alex howled like a wounded animal and staggered away from Betty. Her head jerked back in surprise at the shot, slamming once more into the stones behind it. She sagged against the wall and watched with blurry detachment as Alex's gun waved wildly, seeking his attacker. The light was too dim to discern the identity of the people running toward them, but Alex, seeing that he was outnumbered, realized he had no choice but to run.
"This isn't over between us, Betty. It never will be," he vowed before forcing his lips to hers with crushing intensity.
A shout hailed them from her right, and Betty twisted her head away from Alex's just before he pelted off in the opposite direction. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, easing the ache there. Gustav was upon her seconds later, demanding to know if she was all right. Two of his men stood guard on either side of him, looking restlessly from side to side. Still feeling unfocused, Betty nodded her head, then shook it just as emphatically.
Gustav's concerned frown suddenly became a grin. "Well, which should I believe?"
"Neither. Gustav, Alex is the leak, and he's getting away!" she told him desperately, pointing in the direction the double agent had fled moments before.
"I know," Gustav nodded his head firmly. "But he can't hurt us right now, and Scott is our priority. You two," he said, addressing his men, "go back and help the others. Betty, come with me. We're losing time."
Betty recognized the truth of his words and allowed herself to be led further away from Alex, his parting words still ringing in her ears.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Blearily, Scott tried to focus his mind, and his eyes, on Rollie Pruitt's back, knowing that maintaining consciousness at this point might mean the difference between life and death. From some distant place, he could hear the distinctive report of gunfire and he could only assume that a rescue attempt, however misguided, was being made.
Rollie had untied the ropes that bound his arms to the chair, erroneously believing Scott was too weak to fight back should the temptation strike him. At least, Scott hoped it was erroneous. His strength was waning fast, the punishment of the last few hours at last taking its toll.
"Hear that, Sherwood?" Pruitt demanded in a needling tone. "There's your brave rescuers now, bombarding the castle. I hope you've made your decision."
Scott let his head roll forward as the Jackal turned to face him. "What decision?" he asked, deliberately slurring the words while pinpointing the other man's gun through his downcast eyelashes.
Pruitt rushed toward him, leaning on the arms of the chair, his face mere inches from Scott's. "Don't play games with me you snide, sniveling, charlatan Sherwood. You know very well what your choices are."
In one smooth motion, Scott reached out and snagged the pistol from it's holster, simultaneously barging out of the chair to throw Pruitt off balance. He stood tall, pointing the gun straight at the spy's chest. "All right, Pruitt," Scott said agreeably, "we won't play games anymore."
"Think about what you're doing, Sherwood," Pruitt returned threateningly, though he was backing slowly to the door as he did so.
"The only thing I'm thinking about is the choice you have to make."
The hard menace in Scott's voice made the other man quiver. Adrenaline coursed through Scott's veins, making him feel stronger than he was, though he knew he'd probably collapse, one way or another, when this was over. "Looks like the tables have turned." He cocked the gun, advanced further on his victim.
Defensively, Pruitt threw up his hands and spoke pleadingly. "Don't do it, Sherwood. We can work something out."
Scott nodded affably, ignoring the sharp pain the movement sent shooting down his neck. "Oh, we will work something out. But right now, you have a choice to make."
Rollie seized the hope like a drowning man would a life ring. "What is it?" he hissed, hope dawning in his eyes.
Scott shrugged. "It's simple, really. Head or chest?"
The hope died as quickly as it had flared. "What?"
"Well, I figure those are the quickest, cleanest ways to dispatch you. I suppose I could go with the gut, but that's really so sloppy." Through a haze of pain, Scott realized he was enjoying watching the inscrutable Jackal squirm.
"Let's not be hasty, Scott. You're in a position to escape, quickly and quietly, and if you shoot me, you may lose all hope of ever leaving here. A gunshot in this room would bring twenty men to the door." Pruitt struggled to make his eyes cold and his voice commanding.
Scott paused thoughtfully. "Normally, I'd agree with you, but right now I think the majority of your men are otherwise occupied. I stand a pretty good chance of getting out of here alive, better than yours at the moment, and even if I don't, your death is well worth the risk." The gun raised again to the level of Pruitt's chest and the man cowered predictably away from it.
"You're a fool, Sherwood," he hissed.
"No, you're a fool, and you've underestimated me one too many times," Scott returned, anger making his voice hard. The shot rang out clearly, winging through space to find it's mark with lethal accuracy. "But that won't happen again," he said, cold satisfaction gripping him as Pruitt slumped to the floor.
Scott sagged, leaning against the table next to him as his last bit of strength drained away. The door crashed open, sending him bolt upright once more, the gun raised in defense. Gustav barreled through the doorway and Scott felt a grim smile curve his mouth. This really was his lucky day.
"Gustav, I was hoping we'd meet up again." He aimed the pistol squarely at Gustav's chest, bringing him to a quick halt.
"Scott?" At the sound of his voice, Betty's head peeked inside the door and suddenly she was standing there just a few feet from him. Scott blinked twice, hoping the several knocks his head had taken recently had affected his eyesight.
"Betty?" he asked, when the vision didn't disappear. Unthinking, he'd allowed the gun to lower a few inches, but his defensive instincts suddenly became aggressive again and the gun pointed at Gustav with deadly accuracy. "Betty, get away from him. He's the traitor."
Confusion clouded Gustav's eyes. "What?"
The gun cocked, the hard metallic click reverberating hugely in the utter silence of the room. Alarmed, Betty moved to place herself between Scott and Gustav, believing the move was her only chance at preventing a tragedy.
"No, Scott, it wasn't Gustav," she spoke quietly, willing him to trust her.
"Betty, get out of the way," he ordered. "It has to be him. He's the only one who knew my location, the only one who could have leaked that information to the Nazis."
Raw tension scraped along her nerves and Betty felt as though the air had been sucked from the room as she struggled to keep her breathing even and calm. She knew Scott could never deliberately hurt her, but she also knew the menacing look he was directing at Gustav meant she didn't have long to convince him.
"It was Alex, Scott. You were right about him all along," she said, her voice betraying her desperation. "Alex was somehow able to intercept the general's radio transmission to Gustav and he told the Nazi's where to find you. We never should have trusted him, but we can trust Gustav. Please believe me," she pleaded, feeling more confident when his eyes at last met hers, and held.
"You're sure?" his eyes flicked momentarily to the other man who was watching him just as warily, before turning back to hers.
"Yes, he confessed everything to me. Gustav saved my life." Relief flooded through her as the hot anger in Scott's eyes ebbed and the gun slowly lowered to point to the ground.
Unable to stop herself, Betty flew at Scott, throwing her arms around him heedlessly. Scott gasped a little as she crushed his bruised ribs, but his arms encircled her nonetheless in a tight hug, thankful to at last be holding her as he'd been dreaming of for endless days.
Forgetting Gustav, who paced anxiously near the door and pretended not to watch the scene unfolding in front of him, Scott kissed the top of her head, then continued down the side of her face until he at last reached her lips. Dragging his mouth away from hers and putting his hands on her shoulders, he pushed her away from him.
"Now what the hell are you doing here?" he demanded angrily.
Offended, and suddenly angry herself, Betty scrambled for a reply. "What do you mean, what am I doing here? I'm rescuing you! And why is that always the first thing you say to me after we've been separated for awhile?"
"Because you keep showing up where you're not supposed to. If you'd just do what I tell you to, everything would go a lot more smoothly."
"Smoothly? You call this smooth? If you'd let me come along on this mission in the first place like you should have, this would never have happened."
"It wouldn't? And what exactly would you have done to prevent it? You would have ended up here with me. And another thing, while we're on the subject..."
"My friends," Gustav rushed precipitously to their side, "as fascinating as this glimpse into the joys of marriage is, I'd prefer it if you'd wait to argue until we get back to camp."
"Argue? We weren't arguing...yet." The dark look Scott tossed at her warned Betty of the conflict still to come.
"Of all the nerve! And just after I rescued you. Oh!" Betty at last caught sight of Pruitt's crumpled form leaning against the wall as Gustav hustled them toward the exit. "Is he...?" She let the question trail off.
Scott nodded shortly. "Yes, he is. Mission accomplished, just slightly off schedule," he joked with a glance at his watch. "Let's get out of here. I think I've had just about all I can stand."
Gustav's eyes rolled heavenward. "At last. The voice of reason." He hurried them along without a backward glance. "This way, my friends. Food, drink and sleep await us at camp."
"You don't have to convince me to leave," Scott returned, his grin barely getting a start before he winced in pain and staggered forward.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Scott awakened more than an hour later in a makeshift hospital tent to find Betty hovering over him anxiously. He smiled up at her drowsily.
"Betty," her name was a caress on his lips. "I was having the strangest dream. Hey, wait a minute," he suddenly sat upright, grasping his head as it tried to float away from his shoulders.
"No, you wait a minute. Scott, you're exhausted and you've hardly eaten anything in almost a week. You have to rest." Betty tried, firmly but unsuccessfully, to get him to lie back down on the cot.
He looked surprised. "I'm fine, Betty. Well, nothing a couple of steaks couldn't cure, but other than that..."
"Well, you look terrible," Betty argued as she observed the rainbow of bruising on his face and ribs and the nasty gash on his left arm that had been so neatly stitched up by Madeline, their camp medical expert.
Scott shot her a wry look and got a good look at her for the first time. "Betty, you're covered in blood. Are you all right?" Before she could stop him, he'd swung his legs over the side of the bed, his hands and eyes searching her body for a wound.
Betty lightly grasped his hands, stilling his movements. "It isn't my blood. I think it's yours. No, wait," she cried, as the memory broke upon her. "It's Alex's. Gustav shot him."
Scott's eyes bore into hers. "Is he dead then?"
She shook her head uncertainly. "I don't think so. He ran off and we didn't have time to chase him."
Scott nodded grimly. "At least now we know who the leak was, so he can't compromise any more of our missions."
"You're awake! Welcome back to the living, my friend," Gustav cried as he entered the tent. He tossed a shirt to him. "Come and join me at my fire. We'll eat and talk."
"Scott isn't well enough to get out of bed," Betty protested, though her husband was already on his feet.
"Nonsense. He's strong as a bull. It would take more than a few days as a Nazi prisoner to break him!" Gustav announced jovially, slapping his friend on the back.
Scott winced at the jolting contact, but allowed himself to be led outside of the tent to join Betty and Gustav for dinner. They sprawled on the ground, exhausted, their backs supported by conveniently placed logs as they ate the simple food voraciously. Betty felt completely spent, physically and emotionally, when they were done, but knew that questions would have to be answered, and stories told, before any of them could sleep.
"So Alex was the leak all along. I always knew there was something funny about him," Scott mused.
"Well, your suspicions were correct, though I must add you were not the only one to have doubts," Gustav told him.
"What do you mean?"
Gustav eyed him warily before continuing. "General Hopkins was unsure of his loyalties, but lacked evidence. That's why Alex was never sent into the field until now."
Scott held up a hand to stop the explanation. "Wait a minute. Are you saying that Alex, a man who was already suspected of being a double agent, was sent to rescue me?"
"Basically, yes." Gustav nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"And you knew about this? You left him alone with my wife?"
"Of course not! She never left my sight. Well, almost never." The Frenchman shifted uncomfortably, then tried to explain from a different tack. "The general suspected Alex, but lacked proof. This seemed an ideal opportunity to test his loyalties. He would be outnumbered and under control. If he did anything suspicious, I would be there to stop him. If not, we'd look elsewhere for the leak."
"Why weren't we told?" Betty asked in bewilderment.
"You know how these things are. Only people who must know about it are told. Truly, you weren't in any danger from not knowing, but I am sorry to have put you both through this. I didn't have any suspicions myself until I got the new crystals for the wireless and was able to contact Hopkins. That's when he told me of his doubts about Alex and that you were coming over with him. I was prepared for everything," Gustav reassured them.
"I'm glad you were ready." Scott managed a semblance of his usual smile around the bruises. "Of course, that doesn't mean I won't be hitting you in a few days when I get my strength back." They all shared a smile before Scott's eyes turned to Betty. "And you..."
Gustav cleared his throat. "I think it's time I left you. Your tent is over there," he pointed to the left where a tent stood, slightly separated from the others. Scott turned a questioning glance on the other man. "I thought you might like some privacy." Gustav shrugged unashamedly before leaving them for the night.
"It's like he was reading my mind," Scott mused aloud as he looked at Betty appraisingly.
"What do you mean?" Betty asked carefully, remembering the fight they'd started back in the interrogation room.
"I mean I don't want to have this conversation with thirty people listening. Let's go to the tent." Painfully, he stood, reaching down a hand to help her up.
Sighing, Betty grasped the oil lamp Gustav had left for them with one hand and took Scott's hand with the other. She walked silently beside him to the tent, knowing he was angry, knowing that fighting with him was the last thing she wanted to do right now.
They reached the tent and Scott held up the door flap for her so she could precede him inside. She settled the lamp on the floor, sat on the edge of the bedroll and waited until he was seated beside her. Tense, she studied his profile in the flickering light, wondering if he would speak first, then decided that anything was preferable to suspense.
"I know you're angry with me, but if you'll just try to understand ..." Her voice trailed off as Scott looked at her in surprise.
"Angry with you? Betty, the only thing I'm angry about is that you were in danger. And that you didn't have the sense to stay at home when you must have known I'd want you to. And that General Hopkins let you talk him into sending you here with that snake Alex, who could as easily have killed you as anything else."
"Gee, when you put it that way, it really does sound bad," she offered with a weak smile. "What was the other thing?"
Scott shook his head in confusion. "What other thing?"
"Back at the castle, just before Gustav interrupted us, you said that there was another thing," Betty clarified.
"Oh, yeah." Scott nodded his understanding, but his expression remained anxious. "Where's Scotty? Is he all right?"
Betty smiled warmly, only too happy to reassure him. "He's fine. He's with Mrs. Crawley, and you know how those two feel about each other."
Scott laughed softly. "Yeah, I do."
"That's why I had to come," she explained earnestly. "For Scotty. I hated to leave him for even a few days, but I hated even more the thought that he might grow up without a father. Coming here seemed like the lesser of two evils. And you know you'd do the same for me," she reminded him firmly.
Scott suddenly straightened. "That's different," he insisted.
"How?"
"It just is," he argued, fiercely illogical when he couldn't come up with a better reply.
Betty didn't bother to hold back the laughter that welled up within her, and Scott joined her until the pain in his ribs had him wincing. He shifted their positions until she sat between his legs, her back pulled snugly against his chest.
"Is that the only reason you came after me? For Scotty?" She felt his breath against her neck, warming her skin, shooting tingles through her body.
A smile played around her lips as she guessed what he was hinting at. "I guess I couldn't see myself growing old without you any more than I could see Scotty never really knowing you. I came as much for him as for me."
"Good answer," Scott murmured, leaning down to nip at her neck.
"I'm glad you approve," she laughed, twisting around in his arms. "Now, take your shirt off."
"My thoughts exactly," he returned playfully, his hands going to the buttons on the blouse she wore.
She swatted them away and went to work on his shirt. "That is not what I meant. I have to check your bandages."
"Oh sure, that makes sense. But while you're at it ..."
Our Mutual Spy
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