Lex froze.
He just stood completely still, staring at the five armed men. He had no doubt that they weren't alone. He recognized Francis, up front, and then Marshall -- badly disguised, but definitely Marshall.
And then his gaze moved to behind the other three agents, resting on a worried black cat, sitting on a high shelf.
What now, Lex? her eyes seemed to ask.
I don't know, Isabel. Lex's eyes answered.
Escape was futile. Lex knew that even before one of the agents hollered it at the top of his lungs. Lex barely registered that Francis put up his hand in a gesture that undeniably meant "shut up", and didn't notice the agent closing his mouth with an expression of fury etched into his face.
No, Lex's eyes were trained on Isabel.
He watched her with a sad smile, trying to remember every detail, from the way her tail swished in agitation when she was sulking, to the way her claws dug into the ground when she was anxious, and even the way her ears flicked around when an insect was pestering her.
Lex felt a sharp sting in his shoulder. It wasn't important. He was just getting to the important part -- Isabel's eyes.
He committed every fleck of green in her bright crystal eyes to memory, from the lightest lime to the deepest emerald. He memorized the way her pupils seemed to double in size whenever she was stalking something, and the way they thinned into slits when she was angry.
The edges of his vision were starting to go black, and Lex realized that there was something sticking out of his arm. He guessed it wasn't good, but he didn't want to avert his eyes from the black cat on the shelf, afraid that if he looked away, he'd never see her again.
He chuckled softly to himself -- it wasn't the first time he'd thought that.
He was vaguely aware of Francis shouting something at someone, and Marshall moving towards him to break his fall. He was falling? When did that happen?
Lex locked his eyes onto Isabel one last time, but her green eyes avoided his gaze.
Then everything went black.