AN: By the way, Sorry for the delays. It's picking up now, so hopefully I'll be I'm sorry if anything in the following chapter is confusing.

PS: This chapter was fun to write ;)

Chapter 9

Tonight.

Tonight was the night Sage was going to escape—for real this time.

After she had woken up the morning after her encounter with Greed, Sage had decided that never again would such a rendezvous occur. She didn't know how she would react, and was afraid to think about either of the two outcomes: punching the man in the face, or flinging herself upon him! Several times in the week following that night she had nonchalantly tried to get out of the place, and every time she was escorted back to her room. She had been "lost" a lot lately.

So last night she had stayed up nearly all night puzzling out how she would do it. And now she was convinced that her plan was foolproof.

Sage supposed her escape attempts were growing tiresome: she had attempted at least 4 times. She had lost track of how long she had been down here. Almost a month, now? She missed the sun so much. But most of all, she needed to be away from him.

She had caught his eye fleetingly at breakfast—she was now allowed to eat with some others in what looked like a mess hall—and she did not like the way his gaze darkened or how his jaw had tensed. What did that mean? So she decided that the best option was to steer clear. After all, he still hadn't decided what he wanted with her yet, as Martel so liked to point out these days. An odd pang tickled her heart at that thought, and it unnerved her more than anything. Whatever. She'd be out of here by tonight anyway.

The hours of the day ticked by so slowly. Too slowly. Sage paced her room dozens of times, cramped though it was, and then started laps to the bathroom and back. More than a few people gave her funny looks.

Gradually, the sun went down. She knew because of the increase of activity down in the nest.

Sage knew from her experience and from talk that the bar front closed at about 3 or 4 in the morning, and opened again at about 7 or 8 at night, depending on demand of customers. All she had to do was wait until everyone was in bed, or settling down at least, and then she planned to make a run for it. It would work. It had to work. If not, she would most likely be put on lock down and have her few precious privileges revoked.

Adrenaline snaked through her veins as the hour approached. She got the shakes. She almost talked herself out of it. Weariness threatened to take over, so she began pacing again. She pulled at the fraying edge of her blanket. She traced the grooves in the wall of her cell. She pinched herself. She did anything and everything she could to stay calm, focused, and awake.

At last, the corridor was silent. She waited about half an hour to venture out though, just in case. When she did open her door, the hall was utterly empty and dark.

She darted out.

Right. Left. Left. Hide. Sneak. Right. There. The ladder beckoned. The trap door, her almost freedom, loomed.

The lid lifted silently, and she was so glad it was well used. She didn't dare to exit the trap door yet, just peeked out, barely breathing. She could see the door. It was ajar. Her breath caught, and her heart started beating rapidly. She didn't want to risk being seen, so she stayed put, watching with wide eyes, all senses on overdrive, for something to move, something to jump out and snatch her away from her freedom. It was so close it was tangible. The door was right there.

All she had to do was dart outside, and she would be free. But her limbs wouldn't move quite yet, they remained locked with apprehension and fear. She lost track of how long she crouched there, staring at nothing. Finally, her groaning joints brought her back to herself, and she darted one last glance around the pitch dark room, before slipping silently, with practiced ease, out of the trap door. Her boots were slung over her shoulder, and her bare feet made no noise on the wooden floor. The door to her freedom was about 20 feet away. She hesitated for just a moment, before dashing madly to it, desperate to feel the cool air on her skin and the breeze in her hair again.

She was nearly out the door when she glimpsed a flash of moonlight gleaming on metal, and had only a moment to panic, before something struck her in the head, and she fell to the floor, reaching desperately for the open air two feet away before it faded to black, and her body went numb.

She had collapsed, but she wasn't quite gone yet. She felt the smooth, autumn-chill wood on her burning cheek, and for a moment, thought she was back in her old bed in the alley, her face pressed against the ground. Then she felt her head throbbing and warmth trickle across her face, and was certain it was her little dog licking her awake. Something inside contradicted her, making her all too aware that she had failed. Again.

Sage fought for consciousness as boot steps sounded close to her head, and then someone was grasping her waist and effortlessly hoisted her up, up and across a broad shoulder. She didn't care who it was. She just knew she was headed back down to the dark. To the dark, constricting, stone prison. She wanted to kick and fight the strong hands holding her in place, wanted to scream her indignation, but her limbs were…detached from her body, her voice didn't cooperate, and her eyes wouldn't open. Her body was gone, and only vague thoughts remained.

She felt the figure carrying her descend the ladder, and felt, rather that heard, the trapdoor closing above them. She felt an agonizing loss at that, and then, was out cold.


Greed had seen her sneak out of her room. He had seen her creep down the hall, and knew instantly where she was going. But instead of stopping her then and there, he had decided to see how far she could get. So he had simply taken a more direct route to the empty bar front and waited by the door. He hadn't had long to wait before the trap door in the floor budged, and was silently lifted up a few inches.

He had watched with great interest, wondering how she would go about this. She wasn't at all hasty or careless, he realized as they both waited endlessly. He stood stock still, which wasn't very hard for him, and watched her. He could see her verdant eyes just under the lid and over the floor edge and he watched with amusement as they flicked this way and that, watching for anything that could be a threat.

Finally, she raised the lid, and had slipped out so quietly he didn't know if he had fallen asleep and dreamed the whole thing. But then he saw the longing in her eyes, the intensity, and the fire that burned in them when she gazed outside into the night. It may have been the fever he was sure she had, but there was no mistaking the desperation to be free. Was he really that bad? He had wondered. Then she made a run for the door, and all he had to do was swing his clawed, shielded hand and she was down. He did not enjoy it, as he would have about a month ago. He felt more like he was shooting down a little bird that had just barely had a taste of flight.

He looked at her for a moment, lying there, unmoving on the floor. Blood was running down her face from a deep gash. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling slightly guilty. He hadn't meant to hit her that hard. Carefully, he slipped his hands around her waist and lifted her to his shoulder. She was not heavy, and he carried her down the across the room and down the ladder easily.

As he carried her down the twisted hallways to her "room", he couldn't help but remember little details of the encounter. The way her eyes had blazed with fear and…recognition? the moment before he knocked her out. The way her hands had unconsciously reached for her freedom as she fell, two feet away from it.

Then they were at the right door, and he shouldered his way in, finding a clump of blankets in the corner. They were dirty and bloody, he saw, as he neared them. This made him look around the room. She didn't have any water, any food—or any evidence she had had food—or any clean bandages and the like. He rolled his eyes to himself. When he had said she was a prisoner, he hadn't meant to treat her like an inmate.

Straightening the blankets out with his foot, he shifted his grip around her and laid her on them. He remained crouched for a moment or two as he looked at her face. Blood did not belong there, he decided, watching it slide slowly across her forehead. She looked like she had been born for a very different life than this, but there was nothing he could—or would—do about it.

He straightened, still looking at her. This was the fourth time she had tried to escape. She really needed to stop. It was no use, and she would only keep hurting herself. Stupid girl.

"Determined little punk." He said quietly, a smile splitting his face, despite himself. Then he turned and left her there, lying quietly in her prison. Still.


Back in his own room, Greed thought about the girl. Sage, her name was. It suited her.

He wanted her. Not necessarily sexually, but it was extreme. He wanted her as he wanted many things, such as art, or money, or power. He simply had to have her, no question about it. He closed his eyes and tried to pin down the reason why he coveted her so. the way her tawny hair swung when she walked, maybe. Or the way she had filled out since the beginning of her stay. She wasn't all curves like Martel—"Been there, done that", he snickered inwardly—she was lean and lithe, with a small but nice bust and a good ass. Yes, he thought, it could be her body.

Most likely it was her eyes, and the fire they betrayed. Vibrant, shockingly green, and so intense. He smirked. It looked like she planned to cause everything she looked at to spontaneously combust sometimes. But when she was laughing, they sparkled and danced. He had only seen her laugh twice. He remembered.

But since usually she was grumpy, it probably wasn't her eyes either.

Frustration welled in him. Who gave a damn why he wanted her? He did, and he would have her, end of story.

Greed grinned as he rolled over. Oh the joy of getting what he wanted.

Because he would definitely have her.


;) R&R Please!