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Orange Belt: His Purpose

Prompt: A trip gone wrong

Word Count: 796 words

~*~

Dante's knuckles were white against the black colour of the steering wheel as he drove further and further into enemy quarters.

There was no sign of movement...yet.

The truck spat and spluttered with agony, but Dante drove on. It shouldn't be long now. Hopefully-

Suddenly, Dante heard a twig snap. He brought the truck to a shuddering halt.

"Hello?" he croaked.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he stared balefully at a photo, balancing precariously on the truck's dashboard. Two blue-eyed young girls and their mother stared back at him from the photo, the mother's hands draped across the girls' shoulders, one on either side of her small frame, while she cocked her head to the side, laughing. The girl on the far left was grinning for the camera while trying to stifle a giggle with her hand, while the other was staring off into the distance to the far right of the camera, her lips forming a small smile. 

It was only when the photo lost its balance and fluttered to the floor of the truck, that Dante managed to take a deep breath, his hand clasping the cold steel handle of the door.

He pushed.

It swung open.

He stepped out, letting himself be engulfed by the awaiting darkness.

Someone was there.

Where were they?

A gunshot pierced the silence and Dante pressed his eyes shut, readying himself for the pain.

Nothing came.

He opened them.

Two familiar, mirthful, blue eyes stared right back at him.

Dante's eyes widened with recognition and he scrambled back, hands fumbling with the door handle of the truck. 

It wouldn't open. He turned; the lock had been hit with the bullet

He made to try the back doors. Anything would be better than facing her. He'd meant to come here and face the enemy proudly, but she wasn't the enemy. He couldn't face her.

Just as his hand touched the handle, the lights of the truck flashed and the sound of the locks clicking into place echoed around the clearing. 

There was no escape.

"Thought I wouldn't grab a pair of keys before leaving?" the girl mocked, swinging the car keys on her index finger, as Dante turned back around, his eyes looking anywhere but at her.

"I didn't come here to see you, Clara" he whispered, more to himself than her.

"Obviously," Clara snarled, "But Da-"

"Don't call me that" Dante snapped, unable to stop himself.

Clara tossed her head back, a spurt of cold laughter escaping her "In case you haven't noticed, you're in no position to give orders"

Dante's jaw twitched, but he didn't comment "I came here for a purpose that I now see can't be fulfilled today. I am not needed here anymore"

Clara sobered instantly, her eyes flicking back uncomfortably to Dante's face "I know what you came here for today. I was sent here to fulfil the job"

Dante's eyes widened in surprise "You'd do that for me?"

Clara didn't reply, letting her blue eyes glaze over as she manoeuvred her gun to point at Dante's midriff.

A sharp pain...then nothing...

~*~

Dante blinked his eyes blearily, the musty, brown walls of his refuge coming into view. A rat scampered across the floor, just a foot away from his face.

Was the afterlife really that dirty?

Clara, sitting on an upturned wastepaper basket and staring aimlessly at the wall behind him, caught his gaze.

Maybe not. She couldn't have died.

But then that meant-

Why didn't she kill him?

That was why he'd made that trip all the way to enemy quarters - to die. She'd even admitted to knowing his reason for being there.

"Clara, darling?" Dante croaked.

Clara jumped out of her reverie and looked at him, a small smile playing around her lips. "I was scared that it'd drain you of blood. You're a strong man."

Dante didn't smile back. "I'm alive"

Clara's smile vanished and her gaze settled on the floor.

"Why didn't you-?"

"I couldn't, ok" she choked out, tears now clouding her vision. "You wanted to. I know you did, but I didn't want to."

"I never asked you to. I was going to go and-" Dante explained, trying to sit up but the bandages around his midriff shifted and blood seeping through them; he flopped back to the floor, panting with pain.

"I didn't want you to either," Clara said, tears now flowing freely as she shook her head vigorously. "I'm sorry, Dad" Dante smiled warmly. "I'm sorry about mother. I didn't mean to-" Sobs drowned out the rest of her sentence, but Dante understood.

However, the next moment, the brief smile was gone, his pale blue eyes glazing over.

It was the steely look of death.

Clara gasped, choking on her renewed sobs.