All Is Hell That Ends With ‘Fair’(Closed ~ One-on-One ~ Rated a possible M)

"As far as Marx is concerned," Nina promised, "I don't know a damn thing. I'm a lot of things, but I'm no snitch. I have nothing to gain here."
Nina tilted her head.
"Well, enjoy your coffee. I'm just making some work calls and correspondence from home today, so I'll be here."

“That’s nice to hear. We won’t give you a reason to have you on our bad side either.” He nodded in agreement to his own words, smiling at the thought of being free.
“If you need either of us, we’ll be in Cyrus’s room.” He replied, nodding his head once again but this time as a farewell.
Marcus had to admit he left the kitchen rather quickly after that, his eyes more determined then they had been before.

Cyrus had been mindlessly scrolling through his phone while Marcus was gone, but he perked up a bit when he walked back in.
"Did you speak to Nina? Is everything okay?" he asked, deducting all of this from the time he'd been gone, plus the sound of voices in the kitchen.

“I did. Everything is okay, love.” Marcus soothed, sitting on the edge of the bed and offering a cup to Cyrus.
“Just gang stuff as usual. Then she asked about us. If Marx knew what was happening and if he’d like it.”

"I mean, it's probably better she did, right?" Cyrus sighed.
He softly thanked the other and took the coffee cup. Cyrus took a few sips.
"You feel… less worried," he remarked, "Or am I misreading you?"

“I think it’s better, yes. I think I provided a little information for her to think over. Or at least I hoped I did.” He murmured nervously, laughing a little.
His eyes lit up when Cyrus pointed out his better mood. “I’m more confident in our plan. I know I used to be against it but… now that we’re so close to being free I’m getting a little trigger happy. I think I can take on Marx… he doesn’t know what we’re doing and he gets the closet to me. It’s a really good opportunity!”

Cyrus nodded.
"I'm glad you're more confident, but please don't lose your grip," Cyrus said, "Do you have a plan? Of how you're going to do it?"
He tilted his head.
"Are you going to do it yourself?"

Marcus shook his head, looking away sheepishly. “Not yet. But I’ll make one before I do anything!” He promised, offering a weak smile.
“I-I think I’m going to have to. But I’m no good at the whole ‘clean up’ part of it… I’ve never killed before. Not directly anyways. I’ve always said I wouldn’t kill but… Marx doesn’t trust anyone else…”

"Outright violence isn't the only way," Cyrus reminded Marcus, "There's also poison, among other things. So if you find one of those suits you better.."
His voice grew quiet.
"I'm still worried about you."

“Poison? That could work…” he murmured, biting his lip. He looked over Cyrus, taking in the worry. He didn’t know what to feel. He was scared.
Way scared.
But he didn’t want to admit that. He didn’t want to appear weak anymore. Wasn't fear a weakness?
“I-“ he forced the air out of his lungs and took a deep, cleansing breath.
“What am I going to do, Cyrus? I don’t know how to get out of this…”

"Marcus, you just need to plan. I know you've got to be feeling desperate," Cyrus said, "but if you decide to do it on a whim, the tables could turn. I believe you can do this, baby, I just want you to come back home to me."

He swallowed hard, his hands curling tightly around his coffee. "I don't know where to even start… I want him gone so badly. I feel like I can face him but what I freeze up when I see him in person again?" Marcus squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenching as he tried to calm himself.
"I just want to be with you…" He whimpered, "I love you so much and Marx won't allow that and I hate it. I hate this. I hate feeling like I'm owned instead of loved or wanted."

"I know, love. And we don't have to talk about it right this minute if you don't want," Cyrus replied, "I just need you to be level-headed when the time comes. I… I don't want to lose you."
He tilted his head.
"How are you feeling?"

Marcus slowly loosened his muscles, opening his eyes to look at Cyrus. He looked tired, his green eyes rimmed with fear and uncertainty.
"Stressed…" He replied truthfully, setting down his cup and running his fingers through his hair. "We're so close… I'm worried it's going to be snatched right from under us." Marcus reached out for Cyrus's hand, needing the gentle reassurance his partner provided.
"If I relax I'm worried something bad will happen."

"You're allowed to relax for a bit. Hell, if you want to, go take a shower, or a nap, or something little that'll help for now."
He gave Marcus' hand a reassuring squeeze.
"And we'll do everything in our power to make sure this doesn't go awry, okay? You've got my support, love."

Marcus nodded gently, giving Cyrus's hand a small squeeze in return.
"I'm just really worried." He murmured, moving to curl up on the bed next to Cyrus. "We have so little time and with your father's death that means Marx will come back early from whatever he was doing in that other city… What if we don't make it on time?"

"I think Nina can stall him," Cyrus said softly, "And if not, we'll figure something out."
He took another sip of his coffee.
"I wish I could do more. But I'm not sure how quickly I'll be back on my feet. I'm sorry for that…"

“I don’t want you dragged into it either.” Marcus frowned deeply, growling under his breath.
“I wish I could just snap and he’d drop dead. There’s gotta be a magic or something that’ll do that.” He mused, more to himself than to Cyrus.

"If only," Cyrus replied, "But no… what are you thinking as far as method goes?"
He tilted his head.
"I'm just really worried about you inflicting outright violence. Like I'm sure you're capable, but… but he's…"
He shook his head, trying not to think about what might happen to his boyfriend.

“I’m not sure… I have to be discrete about it. Or at least quick. I can’t have him suspecting me or get to me while I’m attempting… because then I’m done for.”
Marcus nodded along to Cyrus, shifting uncomfortably.
“I-I just don’t want to end up tied up again…”

"I know, love. I know," Cyrus soothed, "and that's why we're having this conversation. So it doesn't end up like that."
He bit his lip.
"Do you two ever share meals or have drinks? Basically, would you ever have a way to slip poison into something he's going to consume?"
He frowned.
"Or some way to overdose him on some sort of drug and make it look accidental? I don't know… I'm just trying to think here."

Marcus's eyes widened as he thought over it all, his mind racing to think of something, anything.
"Antifreeze is hard to detect if you do ten tablespoons a day or something like that but it'll take too long…" He murmured, shivering. "I have opioids… those could work well…" He murmured, biting his lip.
"But by the time I'd get to slip those into his food or drink he'd have already had his way with me… I can't take another session of that. Not after being with you."

"If you could access any type of poison or drug to do this, what would you choose?" Cyrus asked, "I-I… have pretty good access to poisons."
He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
"What do you think?"

“I don’t know too much about them. Which ones are fast-working?” He asked softly, running his fingers along Cyrus’s arm.

"Fast working? Well, Cyanide isn't a bad choice there. Won't be hard to obtain either," Cyrus replied, "If it were easier to administer, I'd say Potassium chloride, but for a sound lethal dose, you'd have to inje t that."
He frowned a bit. It was weird talking about poisons to Marcus. It felt almost wrong. Then again, it was necessary this time, and it's not as if either of them enjoyed it.

“So I’d have to find a way to give it to him quickly.” He tilted his head, letting his mind wander.
“I could make him a ‘welcome back’ meal. He did always like it when I cooked for him. So he’d eat it right away… cyanide would work. I could put it in while I’m cooking.” Marcus had to admit he was a little uncomfortable with all the talk of poisons but really is was the best option.
They didn’t have much of anything else to do. Not with someone as violent and sadistic as Marx.
“What if he won’t eat…?”

"You could just shoot him…" Cyrus whispered, "I know it's not what you want to do, but it's an option. It's basically self defense, anyhow."

Marcus shuddered at the thought, closing his eyes. "This whole thing is a mess. If I just wasn't so dumb in highschool I wouldn't be in this awful situation…" He whined, looking up at Cyrus. "But then you wouldn't be here and I don't like that thought either."

"Marcus, you were manipulated, not dumb," Cyrus sighed, "He targeted you because of your vulnerability, which is not your fault."
He gave a slight smile.
"But yeah, I'm so glad to have met you. I wonder if I ever would've done this without you."

Marcus frowned, pressing his face against Cyrus’s shoulder from where he laid.
“It feels like my fault. Why didn’t I see it?” He asked quietly, biting his lip.
Though he seemed to relax more at the words, turning his face so he could smile at Cyrus. “I wonder if you would have too. I’m glad you’re free and happy, though. It makes me feel a lot better. I feel like I’ve finally done something good, helping you escape and fixing you up.”