Starkid/TCB Oneshots

The Coldest Goodbye

"Killing me won't take the system offline, Curt. So what are you doing?"
Curt's hand shook, his knuckles turning white from the tight grip he had on his gun. His finger hovered over the trigger.

He had to do it.

Owen killed hundreds of people. Curt could do this.

"I-I can't." He lowered his gun. "I can't kill you, Owen." He looked up into Owen's eyes. Owen grinned.

"Which is why I can."

In the fracture of a second, Curt felt an excruciating pain in his side. His vision became blurry and he collapsed onto the floor.

"Owen.." He coughed up blood, winching at the pain it caused him. Was this what dying felt like?

"Remember. R-remember all those times we spent together. Huddled.. huddled in alleyways, sitting in bed together at hotels.. we felt the rush of excitement, you know? Our relationship.. being forbidden. D-Don't tell me you don't miss it. Miss.. us." He was surprised he was able to talk, with his condition. He spat blood onto the floor, making his stomach churn.

Owen lowered his gun slightly.

Was I right to believe Chimera? Owen thought, Curt.. did he really abandon me? Or did I abandon him?

The wounded look in Curt's eyes was enough to make him give in.

"I.. you need a hospital."

A part of Owen was screaming at him to just kill Curt. Get it over with. He carried his need for revenge for so long, he felt that his resentment towards Curt would never truly go away.

He had to fix this.

He picked Curt up bridal style, Curt flinching away from Owen's touch. Owen deserved that.

He carried Curt to his car that sat near the back of the building. He set Curt in the backseat and gave him a towel.

"Can you hold this on the wound?"

Curt nodded weakly and Owen climbed into the front seat.

He drove to the nearest hospital, and when they got inside nurses whisked him away quickly, leaving Owen standing in the lobby.

Suddenly, he heard sirens outside.

————

Owen didn't know how long he was in his prison cell. At the hospital, local officials had arrested him. After a day, they put him on a plane and he was transferred to an MI6 prison to await trial.

He couldn't help but be worried about Curt. Owen had been blinded by his rage that he didn't think about the fact that Curt might have made the right choice.

If Curt had tried to help Owen all those years ago, they'd both be dead.

"Mr. Carvour, you have a visitor." One of the guards huffed.

A visitor? Who could be visiting him?

A girl rounded the corner and stood in front of his cell. It was the same girl that was with Curt and the Informant when he'd revealed himself. She had red hair that was pulled up into a neat ponytail. Tatiana, he heard her name was.

"I hope you're happy." She said. What was that supposed to mean?

He looked down. "I never meant.. I never meant for it to get like this." Tatiana grabbed a chair from around the corner and set it down in front of his cell. She sat.

"Have you heard?"

Owen brought his own chair to the front of his cell. "Have I heard what? What happened?"