Title: Time to Kill
Author: Zubeneschamali
Rating: T (language, violence)
Summary: AU for "In Security." What if there was another reason for Benny Natale to hang around L.A. after killing Leah Wexford—like getting revenge on an FBI agent who thwarted him five years ago in Albuquerque?

A/N: Thanks to ritt for looking it over, and thanks to Mr. Z, of all people, for the plot bunny. This is not only a "what if" for "In Security," it's also an experiment in point-of-view. Let me know what you think…

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Benny Natale shifted his position for the fourth time in the last half hour, trying to keep his foot from falling asleep. He tilted his head from side to side, cracking his neck. He couldn't exactly get out and stretch his legs. But if this took much longer, he was liable to be unconscious here in the back seat when his target finally showed up, and then he'd be screwed. He sighed and checked the clip in his gun for at least the tenth time. Eight bullets, but all it was gonna take was one. One with Special Agent Don Eppes' name on it.

As soon as he'd heard the names "Leah Wexford" and "Los Angeles," the idea had struck him. He'd jumped at the chance to get the bitch back for everything and everyone she'd betrayed five years ago. Eppes hadn't been part of the deal, but there was no way he was leaving town without paying the man a visit. He'd heard through the grapevine of his move away from Albuquerque, and this was too good an opportunity to pass up. The potential payback was even more enormous, once he thought about it, and it took only a couple of days to get a plan going.

"Don Eppes" hadn't been in the phone book. But "Alan" and "Charlie" had, and several hours of waiting down the block from their house had brought him success. He'd followed the big black SUV with government plates out of the driveway about a mile to a large hospital that he recognized from the news reports about the Wexford kid. Aw, isn't that sweet. Visiting the kid to say he's sorry about his mom. Benny's mouth twisted in a sneer. S'pose he'll be seeing her soon enough anyway.

He'd waited for fifteen minutes in case this was a quick visit. When a quarter of an hour elapsed with no FBI agent in sight, he slipped out of the new rental he'd picked up after fleeing the Holiday Lodge moments ahead of the FBI raid that Frederickson had warned him about. Then he'd easily picked the lock on the Suburban and slipped into the back seat, nestling himself on the floor behind the passenger seat and drawing his gun, ready for his target to enter.

That had been three hours ago. By now, darkness had fallen, his legs were cramping up, and he was starting to wonder just how long the damn Fed was going to take paying his respects. Come on, he's not even your kid, he thought. Don't you have a murderer to catch? He couldn't hold back a snicker. Eppes was going to find out where Leah Wexford's killer was soon enough. As soon as he got in his car, as a matter of fact.

Benny was just about to stretch out his legs when a sound made him freeze. There was a key scraping in the lock of the driver's side door. He wrapped his hand more firmly around the butt of his gun and took a slow, deep breath. Everything depended on the next few moments, on how the FBI agent entered the vehicle and how much attention he paid to his surroundings. Benny went absolutely still, turning his head towards the back of the seat in front of him to keep the lights of the parking lot from reflecting off his face but still looking out of the corner of his eye at the man entering the front seat.

Much to his relief, Eppes simply climbed into the vehicle and shut the door behind him without looking anywhere but out the front windshield. Then he just sat there for a while in the darkness, staring out across the parking lot. Benny held his breath, waiting for the agent to reach forward with the keys, the moment when his hand would be the farthest away from his own weapon and when he'd be the most vulnerable. In a few seconds, his patience was rewarded as Eppes shook his head and started to move his right hand towards the ignition.

Now.

Left hand on the seat, right hand gripping the gun, Benny levered himself upwards, moving as quickly as he could to keep the element of surprise. His leather jacket creaked the slightest bit as he moved, and Eppes' head started to turn at the sound. But by that time, his Sig Sauer was at the agent's neck, the end of the barrel pressing into his hairline right behind his ear.

Benny watched as his target instantly went still, his eyes shifting upwards to the rearview mirror. Recognition flared on his face, but nothing more. That irked Benny a little. Leah Wexford had recognized him in a second, her panicked expression advertising that she knew her number was up—and who was dialing it. This guy wasn't showing anything more than awareness that something unexpected had happened and that he wasn't in control of the situation at the moment. You've got a gun to your head, he wanted to say. Doesn't that freak you out a little?

Instead he said in a low voice, "Hands on the wheel, nice and slow, at ten and four."

Eppes' eyes never left his in the mirror as he obeyed, slowly reaching out and wrapping his fingers around the top of the steering wheel. Benny switched the gun to his left hand without moving it from its position. He reached between the two front seats and pulled the agent's jacket aside before withdrawing the standard-issue Glock from its holster and dropping it onto the seat behind him. Eppes didn't move, his eyes tracking the activity in the mirror while his head remained perfectly still. For a second, Benny was close enough to see the pulse point in Eppes' neck jumping, beating out a fast rhythm that was at odds with his calm exterior. Hah. Gotcha, tough guy.

"Cell phone," he demanded. "Carefully, with your left hand."

He applied just a little bit more force with his gun, not wanting the agent to think he had any opportunity to make a move. But Eppes did exactly as he was told, keeping his right hand in place and slowly reaching for his belt and removing his cell phone. He reached across his body and offered the phone, turning his head slightly and looking at Benny out of the corner of his eye. Benny snatched the phone and tossed it onto the bucket seat next to the Glock. "Hands back on the wheel," he said unnecessarily, for Eppes' left hand was already moving back to its place at ten o'clock.

He paused for a moment, hoping to rattle the other man by building anticipation for what was coming next. Eppes had to know what was going on here, had to be expecting the trigger to be pulled and his head to be blown off. And if Benny watched carefully, he could see the other man's chest rising and falling faster than it should be. Oh yeah, he knew his time was up. All that remained was to make it happen.

"Put your seat belt on," he commanded, and he was soon obeyed. With Eppes restrained at least a little bit, he felt safe clambering over the center console and into the front passenger seat. Once he had dropped into the seat, he pulled the gun back from the other man's head but kept it pointed at him. "Turn on the car," he ordered, putting on his own seat belt. "Let's go."

"Where to?" Eppes asked quietly, his voice low but steady as he turned the key in the ignition.

"Out to Lake Street, then north." He'd been in town for a few days, long enough to scope out a few choice spots for what he was about to do. He had no way of knowing for sure where and when he'd be able to overcome Eppes, so he'd had to have a few different places in mind. Here in Pasadena, with the canyons of the San Gabriel Mountains only a few miles away, there were plenty of spots to drop a body over the edge and trust that it wouldn't be found for days. By then, he'd be well out of L.A. and well out of the country, away from the ridiculous restrictions of the Witness Security fools and on his way to a better life.

They drove through the near-deserted nighttime streets in silence. Benny's aim remained steady, the butt of the Sig resting on his left thigh, the barrel aimed straight at the driver, too low to be seen from outside the vehicle but all too visible to the person at the wrong end of the weapon. Eppes kept his hands near the top of the wheel and his gaze out the windshield, occasionally glancing to his right. As if anything's going to change over here, Benny thought scornfully. He might be a little out of practice, having been stuck in Seattle for five years, but he still knew how to read body language, how to control his target, and how to get the job done. And he'd been looking forward to completing this particular job for a long time. He wasn't about to screw it up.

"So who told you where to find her?" The agent's voice finally broke the silence, tightly-controlled anger audible under the level surface.

Benny snorted. "You think I'm gonna tell you?"

Another quick glance in his direction, at the carefully-aimed weapon. "At this point, it doesn't seem like you have much to lose," came Eppes' reply, pitched as though he was holding a regular conversation and not talking to a killer who was about to make him another notch on his gun belt, as it were.

Benny shifted in his seat, turning sideways and leaning slightly back against the door. The streetlights lit the agent's face as they passed by, sharply outlining his profile before it was plunged into darkness again. Light, then dark. Light, then dark. He could tell from his expression that the other man didn't believe the words he'd just said. Bastard probably still thought he could get out of this somehow and was trying to get him to confess beforehand. Fat chance of that.

"Bet you wished you could have been there to protect her," he sneered. "Thought I was going to get two birds with one stone for a minute there." He'd been genuinely surprised when Leah had gone inside by herself the other night, based on what he knew of her past. "You were happy enough to do her with her husband barely in his grave. What's the matter, she too old for you now?"

A murderous glare and white knuckles around the steering wheel were his only reply.

He let out a chuckle. Touched a nerve there, I guess. "Hey, I'm just asking. She used to be great in the sack, but I guess things change, huh?"

This time he got a sharper look, equal parts curiosity and anger. He answered the unspoken question. "She wasn't a grieving widow yet when I, uh,knew her. But now she got all dressed up for you and you didn't even go in with her. Maybe she's let herself go or something, but from where I was sitting, she looked like she still had it."

"Leah Wexford was a brave woman who deserved far better than what she got." The statement was delivered in a cold, flat tone that brooked no dissent or further discussion.

Of course, Benny was holding the gun, which meant he got to lead the discussion. "I've always wondered, Eppes. Is it true that you got her to turn by sleeping with her? 'Cause I gotta say, I've heard of guys who could persuade women to do anything, but to betray her family and friends like that must mean that you're one hot stud."

There was no response this time, and the back of his neck started prickling. He followed Eppes' gaze out the windshield and narrowed his eyes. Two blocks ahead, a Pasadena police car was heading towards them, lights on but sirens off, respecting the late hour. He thumbed back the hammer on the gun, the click loud within the confines of the SUV. "Keep driving," he said. "Anyone pulls us over, I shoot them right before I shoot you."

The next sweep of the streetlights illuminated the tight lines around the agent's mouth. Following the law, he slowed and pulled over into the right-hand lane as the police car swept past, but he did nothing to attract the cops' attention. Then he resumed their speed and direction, his grim expression unchanging.

The slope of the road they were on had changed from a barely-noticeable incline to a definite hill, getting steeper the closer they got to the mountains. Of course, the only way Benny knew the mountains were out there in the darkness was the abrupt end of the regular lines of orange-tinted streetlights once the terrain got too steep. They continued to climb in a straight line, leaving the commercial district behind for a residential area. About ten minutes more, he figured. Then a short walk, and then the trip back by himself. He flicked the safety back on. No sense in accidentally firing the weapon if they hit a pothole too hard.

After a moment, Eppes started up again, his voice still sounding like he was the one in charge, like he had the right to be asking the questions. "Someone must have told you where to find her. Because if you'd known all along, there's no reason for you to have waited five years to track her down."

"Maybe I wanted her to forget about it."

Eppes was shaking his head, sounding almost like he was talking to himself. "And there's no way McGurn would have known all this time, either, or she'd already be dead. No, someone told you where she was, someone who had access to her file and an FBI badge."

"You're pretty smart for a Fed, you know that?" Not that Benny was admitting to anything here, but it was pretty impressive that the guy was starting to figure things out, considering that he was under some serious stress at the moment.

"So what did they want you to do in return?" the agent asked. "You got Leah's address in exchange for what? Can't be information; you're already in WITSEC. What are you supposed to do for them, Benny?"

"What do you think?" he asked, gesturing slightly with the gun he held.

Eppes' eyes flickered down to the Sig before going back to the road. The streetlights were sparser up here, the time spent in shadow greater between the flashes of orange-tinted light. Then he shook his head. "That'd be a little too much of a happy coincidence for you, wouldn't it? Besides, if someone in the FBI had it in for me, it's a hell of a lot easier to lay down some friendly fire in the middle of an operation somewhere."

The guy was good. Benny opened his mouth to tell him to shut up, then shrugged. It didn't matter if he figured out why he was driving himself to his own execution. He'd be dead by the end of the night either way. Out loud he asked, "So what do you think?"

There was silence for a moment. Then Eppes said slowly, "I think someone in the FBI told you where to find Leah. I think they wanted you to do something in return, but you decided to shaft them. But then you thought that as long as you were here in town, you'd get a little revenge in. So you've been following me around until you could add kidnapping a federal agent to your list of charges."

"Kidnapping ain't all I'm gonna do," he said casually, watching the flinch that Eppes couldn't hide once he caught the meaning of his words.

Eppes swallowed. Then he went on, his voice slightly strained, "Look, if you tell the FBI who it was that put you up to this, WITSEC can extend your deal. It's not completely unheard of, even...even for murder. But killing a federal agent—there's no way you can get out of that."

Benny scoffed. "What, you think I'm gonna go back to Miss Bad-Ass Marshal Yaegger and tell her I'm sorry and I want another chance?" He shook his head. "Shit, maybe you're not as smart as I thought."

That got him a more careful look. "It was Yaegger?" Eppes asked disbelievingly.

"Oh, hell, you're just guessing now." The Suburban eased to a stop at a traffic light, and Benny looked around cautiously. No one was in sight, cars or pedestrians, and he relaxed against the seat again, although his grip on the Sig remained firm.

When he looked back at the driver's seat, Eppes was watching him, dark brown eyes flickering from the gun to his face and back again. So he shifted his aim a little higher, to drive home the point that he was in charge here. Eppes returned his attention to the road a second before the light changed to green.

As they started forward again, the agent said, "You're risking an awful lot here, Benny. McGurn's had a contract on your head for years, and now the FBI is going to be after you, too. There's nowhere for you to run now, nowhere for you to go. Is all that worth it?"

It was a gamble, all right, bigger than even the Fed knew. And hell if he was going to let the man talk his way out of it. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he replied.

"You're right, I don't. So why don't you tell me."

God, he hated that tone of voice. That patronizing, condescending, arrogant tone of voice that the Feds used when they wanted something from you. Like they knew they were going to get whatever it was in the end, and they just wanted you to think that it was your choice to tell them. He'd heard it a hundred times in interrogation rooms and in his crappy little apartment in Seattle, listening to that damn Marshal Yaegger tell him that he was in protective custody for his own good and would he please tell them something else that they already knew about his former colleagues so they could be sure that they could trust what he'd already said and so that the price on his head would go up even higher. "Fuck you," was all he said.

Silence fell again. They rolled to a halt at a stop sign, then moved on. There was maybe a mile to go now. Suddenly, Eppes made a fist and pounded it on the steering wheel, and Benny brought the gun up sharply, reaching across his body and leveling it with the agent's head. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Sorry." The agent curled his fingers back around the wheel almost meekly as he drew a deep breath. There was a pause, and then he went on, "You've got guts, Benny, I'll give you that."

"What are you talking about?" He withdrew the gun slightly but kept a careful eye on his captive.

Eppes licked his lips. "I'm talking about me. You're not just out for revenge here. And you're not doing someone else's bidding. You think that if you bring my head on a platter to McGurn or whoever his replacement is that he'll cancel the contract on you and you can get back to your old life. That's what's going on here, isn't it?"

How the hell did he figure that out? He stared at the agent, aware too late that his dumbfounded silence was probably giving the same answer as if he'd opened his mouth.

"Benny, you're not an idiot. Come on, how long were you working for McGurn, ten years?" Without waiting for a reply, Eppes went on, "Did you ever see him take someone back after they'd gone against him?"

"Yeah, I did," he replied defiantly. "Eduardo Garcia. Came back with his tail between his legs and worked his way back up."

"Garcia, huh?" Eppes tapped the brakes as they came to a stop sign. "He's the one who we tailed home and had a conversation with once, right? Connections to Veracruz and the cocaine trail from South America?"

That was impressive. How'd the man remember a little detail like that from six years ago? "Yeah," he answered, a little more warily.

"He didn't turn state's evidence. He didn't go into WITSEC and spill the beans about the entire organization. He never told us a thing. You really think that McGurn's gonna lift the order out on you, no matter what you do?"

"Yeah, I do," Benny replied, raising the gun again. He'd thought about this long and hard over the last few days, and he knew what Alfred McGurn would do if this went as planned. Okay, maybe he wouldn't direct his replacement to welcome Benny back with open arms, but Benny knew he could talk his way into the good graces of his former employer. "Getting rid of both the Wexford bitch and you? That's worth a lot to him, believe me. If it weren't for you, she'd have been out of the way years ago, and McGurn probably never woulda gone to prison. He'll be glad to hear I put a bullet in your head."

The agent's next indrawn breath had the tiniest unevenness to it, and the corner of Benny's mouth turned up. Mr. Hot Shot's getting rattled, he thought smugly, and he pressed on. "Plus there's what I know about what the FBI knows about the operations he's still got going. I'm a valuable asset to his organization." That was the genius to his plan. He'd portray himself as a double agent, a spy who knew what the FBI was up to and could tell the guy who was running things now how to avoid the sting that Benny knew was coming. They'd love to hear what he had to say. He'd be a hero and instantly move farther up in the organization that he had been when he left.

"You're a turncoat and you'll be shot on sight." Eppes' voice cut into his thoughts. "Don't be stupid, Benny. Come back in and add on to the deal you've already got. It's the best thing you can do right now."

He switched hands on the Sig, extending his left arm and deliberately placing the end of the barrel against the FBI agent's temple. "The best thing you can do right now," he said clearly, "is to shut up."

He was pleased to note that Eppes's next breath was more than a little uneven. But the other man kept his silence, pressing his lips together as if to physically keep the words in. Benny waited until they had gone an entire block before drawing the gun back, not missing how Eppes briefly closed his eyes, the flash of relief across his face clear even in the dim glow of the streetlights.

Too bad for him that relief was going to be short-lived.

The car rolled to a stop, and Benny looked out the windshield. The road had come to an end in front of them, the dark slopes of the San Gabriel foothills rising from the other side of the cross-street. "Pull over," he said, gesturing with the gun towards a small parking area off the side of the road. Eppes obeyed, pulling into a parking space in the dirt lot and turning off the ignition.

There was silence for a moment. Then the agent asked in a tight voice, his gaze once more flickering to the gun aimed at him, "What now?"

Like you don't know, Benny wanted to retort. Instead he reached for the door handle and said, "Stay put till I tell you." Without taking his eyes off the other man, he slowly climbed out of the car and pointed the gun back through the open door. "Get out. Nice and slow, and keep your hands where I can see them." He watched as the agent did as he was told, opening the door and stepping out onto the dirt below. "Now shut the door and move to your left, hands on the hood."

Benny started to walk around the front of the SUV, looking around in all directions to make sure there was no one in sight. When he got to his captive, he came up behind him and jabbed the gun into his lower back, making sure the other man knew it was there. "Hold still," he commanded, patting him down and switching hands as necessary. He found an ankle holster with a small piece in it which he tucked into his pocket. Good thing I checked, he thought. He pulled the badge and ID from the front of Eppes' waist and tossed them through the open window into the SUV. Maybe he couldn't bring the man's head to McGurn, but this was the next best thing.

He noticed the handcuff pouch at the back of the agent's belt and hesitated. On the one hand, it would be reassuring to know that his target was securely restrained. But on the other hand, the trail was pretty rough, and he didn't want to be slowed down if the guy couldn't catch himself if he lost his balance. So he left the handcuffs where they were. "Let's go," he said.

They started up a wide dirt path that was more like a fire road. Eppes was in front and Benny was following about three feet behind, close enough that he could shut down any attempt the man made at getting away, but not so close that there was any chance of the FBI agent getting a hold of the gun aimed at his back. About a hundred yards down the road, he barked out, "To your left." A faint track ran up the mountainside next to them, angling sharply upwards and away from the main route. Eppes cast a glance over his shoulder, and Benny motioned with the gun.

They trudged up the steep track for another ten minutes or so, Benny keeping a careful eye on his footing, his captive, and his surroundings, in roughly that order. He had a particular place in mind that he'd scouted out earlier, and he needed to be sure he had just the right spot. It was on the other side of the ridge from a scattering of houses, at a place where the trail cut across a particularly steep part of the hillside. Down below there was a thicket of bushes that would hide a body for weeks or maybe even months.

They rounded a corner, and he paused. This looked like it. Yep, there was that large white boulder with the black streaks through it that he'd seen earlier, the moonlight overhead reflecting off the shiny stripe of black rock. "Stop right there," he called out.

Eppes froze in his tracks. Benny watched him carefully, coming a few steps closer as he did so. The FBI agent slowly turned around, the weak light of the moon reflecting off his pale face. There was silence for a moment. Then, his gaze moving down to the gun for a second before meeting Benny's, he said in a low tone, "You don't have to do this."

He understood that this was the closest Eppes would ever get to begging for his life, and it brought him no small amount of satisfaction to hear it. He waited a moment and then said, "No, I don't. But I'm gonna really enjoy it anyway."

For the first time, he saw fear on the other man's face. He'd seen that look at least a dozen times: the panicked understanding of the target that life was over, that everything they had tried to do to avoid this moment was useless, and that within a few minutes, their last breath would be evaporating into the air. He'd seen that look on Leah Wexford's face as she tried to crawl up the stairs with three bullets in her body, pointlessly trying to avoid her fate. He'd seen it on her husband's face five years ago, that same shocked awareness mingling with the most primitive of animal instincts—the fear of death—after he rolled down the window of his car and unknowingly made it even easier for his killer to complete his assignment.

And now he saw it on Don Eppes' face.

But it faded quickly, replaced with the same stoic calm that he'd been displaying all evening. Wonder if they make them practice that look in front of the mirror? Benny thought. Lesson One at the FBI Academy: 'How to keep the perp from knowing you're scared to death.' It didn't matter in this case; he'd already seen it.

"Turn around," he commanded, keeping his own voice emotionless. No need to lord it over the other man; he'd already won. And for all that he was pissed at the man for keeping Leah out of his sights back in Albuquerque, he had a grudging respect for the man for doing his job so well. Benny could respect another professional when he saw one.

A few seconds passed. Eppes' hands clenched into fists, but other than that, he didn't move. Benny was about to repeat the command when the agent took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. Then he slowly turned, facing the edge of the trail and the steep hillside that fell away beneath him, turning his back on Benny and the Sig Sauer that was raising to point directly between his shoulder blades.

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