Opposites Attract

Prompt Four

My prompt: "It's nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today."
Pairing: Dianseven.
Trigger/content warning: It's implied that someone is slowly dying (not saying who because that's a spoiler), and later actual death. Mentions of gore and blood but never actually happening.

***

D

iana opened her eyes, trying to pick a spot on the ceiling to stare at. She felt so stressed, gritting her teeth and unable to focus. She hated feeling like this. Out of control. Unable to take the wheel, stuck to sit and wait for someone to talk to her. The distant tones of Lucas and 47 could be heard, out in a different room. She wondered what was so bad that they couldn't include her in the room.
Her eyes moved to the wall, noticing a digital clock. It was morning. She didn't remember the night before; did she even rest? Did the two men rest? She hoped they did. They definitely needed it to handle the rest of the boat ride.

A soft click sounded out. It wasn't the door. She knew that sound, she'd heard it so many times before. A gun. Were they already at the island? Maybe now proper medicine can be found. She hoped so, closing her eyes.
The door's click now sounded, footsteps approaching. 47's. She opened her eyes, tilting her head at the grave expression on his face. She already knew what it meant. A small pang ruffled her heart but she couldn't say a thing against it. She knew what was happening. She knew why. There wasn't a reason for her beloved agent to explain. She understood...she accepted it.

"Thank you for everything, Diana. I'm sorry this has to happen."

She didn't want to speak. She nodded, wanting him to continue speaking. It hurt but she wanted to hear him. He rarely talked, so perhaps that was why it was cherished more than ever.

"I wish there was a different solution but it'll hurt less this way, for all of us. Lucas already has a plan...one you'd be proud of, I think. I hope."

The Handler smiled slightly, wishing she could laugh. It felt wrong to laugh now. Like making jokes at a funeral or a wake. All she could do was smile. After such short time, the gentleman she could call now a friend instead of enemy knew her so well. It was flattering, really. To think that for months, his name was viewed as the enemy...was this irony or simply life working it's silly tricks? Pity that life's silly tricks never got to be enjoyed long term, the harsh punches and reality of it's ways hitting sooner.

Diana's eyes never left 47's as he crouched to her level, hand still behind his back. She knew what was in that hand. Why hide it, she wondered. An attempt of reassurance? To pretend that this wouldn't end badly? How thoughtful. The same courtesy she would extend to him if he didn't seem so immortal.
He smiled now, a sad but gentle one. It was still lovely to see. She hoped he would smile more.
His free hand brushed her hair away from her face, lingering on her cheek. His eyes were so soft, like the icy metal melted today. Or perhaps they melted over the twenty years they'd known each other.

47's hand dropped from her cheek, his larger fingers curling around her hand. She snapped out of a frozen state to curl her fingers back around his. First time this happened that wasn't from a handshake, how beautifully sad. His other hand was revealed, the expected ICA issued pistol gripped tightly. A slight tremble shook the gun before it steadied, slowly moving to press against her forehead. It was cold, a harsh contrast against his warm hand. Diana closed her eyes, only to open them again. Would it be better to close or open her eyes? She didn't know, and that was more upsetting than the gun against her.

She kept them open, noticing Lucas in the doorway. Probably there to give comfort to his brother after the silent gunshot hit. Her smile dwindled at the thought of the gunshot. It'd be a mess, from how close it was to her. She grimaced at the gruesome thought, feeling 47 softly squeeze her hand. A silent "it's okay". His bittersweet smile was gone now, replaced with an attempt to appear calm, in control. As he always was. The man Diana loved for twenty years. Tears threatened her eyes now, at the thought of the years.

"If you can speak, I'll give you five minutes to do so."

Did he anticipate a long talk? Could she even talk? What to even say?! So many questions wasting away her five minutes. She could talk about so much. The enemy gunshot that hit her, the rush she did to take that shot. The reason she did. A confession. Reassurance. A final question. Too many possibilities. She licked her dry, blood flavored lips, letting her tears fall now.

What could she say that would capture the memories and joy that twenty years gave them?
She wondered how many minutes passed now. She needed to say something that could perhaps drive a laugh out of him. She hadn't heard that laugh in maybe nineteen years. She held his hand tighter.

"My final request is that we get buried together. When your time comes. And to give your opponents hell for me."

The agent nodded, a short chuckle rumbling out. It sounded just as warm as it did nineteen years ago. Diana closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think of what else she could say. There was so many sappy words in mind but none sounded good. They all sounded useless now. Nothing could happen because of them. She opened her eyes, gazing at his features for a final moment. Still a work of art, after all these years. Angelic almost, in the dying moonlight.

"It's nice that your voice is the first thing I heard today."

She nodded as best she could to signal she was ready. 47, for the first time she'd seen, hesitated. It didn't last long, his trigger finger pushing down fast. To get the physical pain of Diana and the emotional pain of 47 done and killed.

Satan_Incarnate_666
I'm playing Hitman as I write this. :)