The Killing Bind

Chapter 25: Decisions

Andrew walked towards the bed and lifted up his bag and searched everything inside briefly.

"So, who are you?" Berk asked.

"I can't tell you that." Andrew replied. He saw that Atticus wasn't surprised but was not satisfied with the answer either.

"Andrew Beckett. That's your name." Berk asked for confirmation.

"Yes, that's my name and that will be the one of the only things I will say to you," Andrew reached for his sniper rifle and checked the ammo. It was empty. He saw the ammunition box in the bag. He opened and inspected it, then kept it back in the bag. "But what I can say is that I'm not the guy you're looking for. We are looking for the same person."

The article landed on the bed. Andrew inspected it, it had blood splattered on the sheet. He picked it up for a closer inspection. His eyes grew wide as he read the article. This wasn't true. How could it be. His eyes softened and let emotions take control of him for the first time in a long while.

Andrew read the page, one more time and threw it on the bad angrily. He muttered a string of curses and looked at Atticus Berk for a long time. He went closer and looked at him with eyes that are intent for killing.

"Where did you get this?" Andrew said each word clearly, not wanting to repeat himself.

"A man was framed for the murder of a Hollywood director. William Finch, if I remember correctly. That man and an FBI agent was killed right before I found you on top of the roof." Atticus spoke and as he was about to continue, Andrew cut him off. A rage of hostility and loathing welling up inside of him.

"I know dammit. I know," Andrew went back and cried out. "And I know who killed them, who killed the fucking director and my...." He trailed off.

"Who is it?" Berk asked.

Andrew knew it, he had to say it to this man. He knew he couldn't kill Atticus Berk easily. Taking time means wasting time in situations like this. He walked over to the bed and picked up the article he threw on to the bed. He walked back to the man and shoved it towards him.

"This man." That was all Andrew said.

"Who is he if this man isn't you?" Berk asked.

Beckett swiveled and paced around the room, scratching his head and messing it up. He had completely lost his composure; he hasn't been like this in a long time.

"That's my brother." Andrew finally got himself to say it. He breathed hard, he didn't know if it was because of relief or distress.

"How is he alive." Berk asked.

"That is because he never died." Andrew knelt down under the bed and took the gun out from under and checked the magazine. He then proceeded to sit on the bed and looked at Berk for a long time. He switched his gaze back to the gun and continued, "I was the one who died and he was the one who killed me. That paper doesn't make sense. What the hell is going on?"

"What do you mean?" Berk asked.

"I'm not telling you anything more. I can't." Andrew replied. "You just have to trust me."

"I'm not trusting you." Berk paused. "But I believe what you said."

Andrew Beckett walked over to the T.V and picked up the remote. H surfed through the channels available and decided on a local 24-hour news channel. What the reporter said intrigued him. It was a report of multiple murders in Santa Monica, not far from where they live. He bent forward to hear and read the details more clearly, and he could see Atticus Berk moving closer to the T.V.