Authors note: Yay! Chapter 9 is up, not bad eh? Anyways, I owe a huge thanks to those who bothered rewieving the previous chapter! THANK YOU YET AGAIN FOR BEING TOTALLY AWSOME.

And to all the others; feel free to leave a FEEDBACK!:)

2-Cold: Thank you so much for leaving another great review! It is really nice of you to say that, because sometimes I really feel like I am using words which doesn't quite fit, so that is a relief:D Great that you like the descriptions, because that is a huge hang up for me. I love writing them, but I am sometimes afraid that they are too long and too boring, and then other times they are too short. I think emotions are quite important, you know, so its more than just action:D Yeah! Mee too! I sort of couldn't resist writing it. Kai is a tough cookie after all! Anyway, thanks again and i hope you will like this chapter as well:D

KirayHimawari: Thank you so much for another superb review! No worries, I thought the cake was rather nice:D Yes, Tala does have feelings for him, I just haven't quite decided to which extent yet. And I totally agree with, the russians are awsome. I am afraid Bryan's potrayal this far has not been very nice, but rest assured this will change, just give me some time:) As for the box I sort of figured it would be the best way to punish Kai without damaging his apperance, which Voltaire is rather obsessed with. Then again I feel so bad when I write about it, it must be terrible! Anyway, no, rest assured it wasn't you. I sort of wanted you question wheater or not he would be forced to sleep with her, because I myself couldn't decide. It was a very cruel twist that one. Great that you like the flashbacks, I am still not certain about this new one but we'll see, you be the judge;) Anyway, thanks again!:D

Hirurg: Thank you so much for another very considerate review!:D Hahahah, I understand, and I do agree with you to a certain extenth. Me being more or less obsessed with Kai has of course resulted in a certain bitterness regarding Tyson; you know, Kai should have been world champion and all that ;) Anyway, I think that is an interesting point; how they contradict each other, and yet they are somehow alike. I do like the contrast, and much due to this I actually did give Tyson some screentime in this chapter. And you are right when it comes to maturity, when the characters are slightly older that opens up for more more complex and interesting issues, at least regarding how they interact and how they are as characters. Once again I am delighted to hear that you think this is one of the better stories, and I do hope I will manage to keep the characters were I want them. If not then don't hesitate to point it out! No worries, my english is crap without a spelling program, so don't think about it. Anyway, thank you so much for the review, and I really hope you will like this chapter as well!:D

Untouchable

Chapter 9

"He…h…he….he should be fine", someone stuttered.

It was a voice I didn't recognize, and it felt as if it was far away. I blinked, trying to sit up. A soaring pain seemed to explode in my head at the movement, and I immediately squeezed my eyes shut, grimacing at the sensation. Every inch of my body was aching; and I was nauseous, weak. My limbs felt heavy, and they seemed to lack their usual strength, as even trying to move my fingers demanded a great deal of effort. I struck me that I was freezing as well, and I struggled to keep my teeth from rattling.

"You….I…he needs some painkillers, it will help him sleep".

It was the unfamiliar voice again, the one I couldn't recall having any memory off. Whoever he was sounded afraid, tense, anxious. He smelled of sweat. It was a metallic, heavy and awful stench which made my nostrils burn. Al the same it was easily recognizable; he was terrified, and he wasn't particularly good at concealing it. I tried to open my eyes again, this time ignoring the head ache. They were sore, but after blinking a couple of times I could see as clearly as before. Naturally it only served to advance the headache, but I didn't care. I had to see; had to get some sort of grip on my surroundings.

"Then bring some", my grandfather snapped, annoyed.

"Mr. Hiwatari, he is awake", a third voice stated.

It was Boris, and moments later all three of them were leaning over me. The stranger was a middle aged man with grey-green eyes and dull, brownish hair. A pair of large, round glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, and when he reached out to touch me I concluded that he had to be some kind of physician. I briefly closed my eyes, making a halfhearted attempt at avoiding his hand. The humiliation of not being able to made everything all the more painful, and I glared. Even that hurt, and I was forced to close my eyes again, patiently waiting for the nausea to lessen.

"Does this hurt?" The doctor asked me in a surprisingly tender voice, proceeding to gently press his fingers against my forehead.

It felt as if someone had just struck me with a thousand needles, and I inhaled deeply a couple of times, before once again opening my eyes. I didn't have to answer, he understood.

"He should be fine in a few days, just let him rest. He needs to sleep, eat and relax".

He sounded uncharacteristically in control this time, and I caught the flash of irritation in my grandfather's eyes. Boris was completely expressionless, and I briefly wondered what he was doing here in the first place. Although my grandfather trusted him he rarely allowed him too close to me. I belonged to him, and he didn't like the fact that Boris seemed to be attracted to me. Then again I didn't like it either. I suppose it was one of the few things the two of us actually agreed on.

"If I may ask…what caused him to end up in such a state?"

It was the doctor again, and his voice sounded rather accusing. When I opened my eyes too look at him I could tell that he was angry, and I felt oddly touched. He was speaking up for me, despite the fact that he was undoubtedly afraid. It was both brave and stupid; my grandfather had killed people for less and I could tell from his eyes that he was aware. Still, he had done something very few people dared, and I was grateful. Although I couldn't quite recall what had happened between the time I had been placed in the box and now I knew that it had been painful. I had a vague memory of being dragged in and out of the tank, with only a couple of hours in between each turn.

"That is none of your concern", my grandfather calmly responded, a warning edge to his voice.

"You are merely here to make sure he is comfortable. You will return tomorrow, same time".

The last sentence was spoken with a finality which left no room for negotiation, and Boris took a couple of steps forward, proceeding to escort the man out. Our eyes locked briefly, and I saw the pity in his face. It angered me, and I looked away. If it was one thing I couldn't take right now it was pity. The mere idea made me clench my jaw uncomfortably, and for what had to be the hundredth time the full blast of the headache returned. I tried to roll over on my side, but was unsuccessful; it was pathetic. Humiliation flowed through me as my grandfather sat down on the edge of the bed, and I visibly flinched when he gently ran two fingers along my jaw.

"It is nothing to worry about, you will be fine", he said softly.

To my surprise he carefully took a hold of my shoulders, helping me over on my side like I had originally intended. I groaned in response, a sharp stab of pain once again tormenting my entire form.

"Hush", he comforted, gently stroking my hair, massaging my neck.

"I am afraid I left you in the box longer than intended", he said, sounding somewhat regretful.

Still, I didn't hate him any less, and he probably knew that as well. Either way I realized that I was literally starved for affection, and even if I had wanted to I was by far too weak to resist. I barely registered that Boris returned, stating that the doctor would be back tomorrow at the same time. They didn't seem overly concerned about his interest in me, and it struck me that they probably had a certain hold of him. He probably had a family; a wife, children. Perhaps that was why he seemed to care. And, he would probably never put his children in a liquid breathing tank if they misbehaved. A deep depression seemed to consume me, and suddenly I felt like crying.

As it was I would never do such a thing, especially not in front of him. I was weak enough as it was, and I was not by any means willing to admit that my psyche suffered from an equal lack of resolve. It was the only thing I had; the only thing he hadn't totally claimed. He could after all not read my thoughts; he wasn't me. And no, he didn't know me, not as well as he would like at least.

"Try to relax", he said.

"You are very stiff, it will only make things worse if you are tense"

There was a pause in which he demanded that Boris informed the servants to prepare a meal for me, along with water and painkillers. A smooth scraping was heard as the door slid shut, and he returned his attention over to me again, his features laced with possessiveness.

"I will have a masseuse come over in a few hours, and you need to eat".

"What time is it?" I asked tiredly, my voice a hoarse whisper.

He continued to rub my back, pulling more blankets over me. I was still freezing, and I couldn't help but tremble, goosebumps rising on my arms. My throat hurt. It was sore, and I tried not to swallow too much. I felt like shit, much worse than last time, but then again I had been in there for a shorter period of time. My suspicions were confirmed when he spoke up again, remorse evident in his tone. I couldn't understand him; why did he do this to me if it made him feel bad? If he knew that it was unfair, wrong,….gruesome even. It was torture.

"You have been in and out of the tank for two days", he responded, pausing to help me over on my other side, facing him.

"It is 3 O' clock, and you have been asleep for 15 hours".

I didn't even have the energy to nod. Instead I just looked at him, one eyebrow quirking upwards. 15 hours? That had to be the longest I had slept in a very long time, if ever. In the Abby I had been allowed an average of 4 to 5 hours rest, perhaps 6 if I had been particularly well behaved. Yes, life out here certainly was different. He was different. I had become the center of his universe, and so long as I obeyed him he seemed hell bent on giving me all the attention and affection he could muster. Of course, his opinion of affection probably differed from most, but still, I would admit that I appreciated it to a certain extent, despite the hatred. It was bittersweet, in the sense that on one hand it was just what I wanted, what I needed, and then on the other I resented everything about him.

To my relief I was left to my own devices about half an hour later; when he was certain that I had eaten properly. The kitchen girls had brought me a salmon dish, coke, and then ice cream. Of course I had dutifully wolfed down everything, and I curled up under the covers afterwards, faking sleep. He ruffled my hair one last time before he left, and I waited about ten minutes before I dared to try and get up, just to be on the safe side.

I just wanted my privacy, that was all. Understandably enough I would prefer to shower and change clothes when he was not present. Normally I was never modest; I suppose Rey would have called me shameless, but it was different with my grandfather. It wasn't shame or embarrassment; it was more the fact that he seemed to get some sort of twisted pleasure out of looking at me, and I didn't like it.

Standing up turned out to be more difficult than anticipated. I was weak and wobbly, and whenever I moved too swiftly the headache returned in a flash, making my ears ring and my vision blurry. It was a complete nightmare. The one thing I felt I could always rely on was my physique, and now suddenly it was letting me down. The mere I idea made me shiver with suppressed frustration, and I stumbled, crashing into a wall before sliding down into a sitting position. My hair was dry and tousled, and I reeked of chemicals; I needed that shower. Still, as it was I was stranded about five meters from the bathroom door, and with a sigh I leaned back, closing my eyes.

"Your nightmares, tell me about them, what do you see? What do you see in the dark when your demons come?"

The walls were a gloomy, empty grey, the lights were grey, the air felt grey. Everything was colorless and deserted. There were people here, but they never looked at me. They were not here for me. Like a well oiled machine they went about their tasks, hurrying back and forth on the other side of the transparent wall.

I felt anxious, afraid. What if they forgot about me? What if they just left me here to rot in the dark? The mere idea caused me to hyperventilate, and I looked desperately at the transparent glass wall, wishing it hadn't been there.

Sometimes I wished I was just like the others. They shared cells, two and two. But I was not. I knew that; they had told me. Naturally I had asked, but they refused to give me a cell mate, and therefore I was still alone, lost…..forgotten.

Of course, there was the voice. It was there for my sake, and only for mine. Still, I didn't want it here. It owned me, controlled me, and I resented it….feared it.

When I was starved for affection it came, and somehow I never felt more alone than when it was present.

Alone.

I was always alone.

Yet again the words seemed to linger, and I fixed my eyes on the floor, intently scrutinizing the carped.

"I am not you".

A brief flare of anger surged through me at my own words, and I sneered, banging my elbow into the wall. Of course it merely served to give me a bruise, but right then I didn't feel inclined to care about anything.

"I. AM. NOT. YOU!" I repeated, louder this time, almost too loud.

I shifted uncomfortably on the floor, using the wall for support as I tried to stand up. Once again nausea threatened to overcome me, but this time I ignored it, somehow managing to get up on unsteady legs. I was starting to feel cold again, and with obvious effort I wobbled into the bathroom, kicking off my underwear and stumbling into the shower.

Unsurprisingly I ended up on the floor again, resting against the far wall, relaxing as the warm water flowed over me. Slowly the knot in my stomach seemed to disappear, my jaw unclenching. Suppress it, don't think about it, just forget…everything. It would be better that way, much better.

I am not sure for how long I sat there, enjoying the warmth with half closed eyes. By the time I had finished washing my hair and managed to get out of the bathroom the maids had already been there. The sheets were changed, and someone had been considerate enough to place a set of clean clothes on the chair next to the bathroom door.

For obvious reasons I was too tired to do much of anything, but I put on sweatpants and underwear, once again curling up in the king sized bed. It struck me that perhaps I should check my phone. I had been more or less gone for the past two days, and I was surprised to see that one of the girls had placed it on the night stand. How thoughtful.

With a yawn I picked it up, barely bothering to turn it on. I didn't exactly have a huge social life, and all in all I highly doubted that anyone would bother calling me. But then, to my immediate surprise, the display lit up. There were 5 new messages and 15 unanswered calls. What the fuck! Surely this had to be important. 4 of the messages were from Rey, claiming it was urgent and that I had to call him back as soon as possible, and then forth made me smile for the first time in what had to be four days. It was from the female police officer, asking if I would like to meet her. A slight smile played on my lips, and after thinking it over I decided to answer later. But yes, I would answer.

As it was I decided to call Rey first. After all it seemed to be important. He had never struck me as the type to keep nagging you unless it was necessary. To my surprise he picked up at the first ring, but it was someone else who answered.

"Hello, Rey's phone, this is Tyson".

I paused, wondering if I should just end things before they got ugly, but no. Tyson had called me rude. Surely it would be rude if I didn't talk to him at all?

"This is Kai", I hesitantly said.

There was a brief silence in which I could literally feel his surprise, but then he seemed to push it aside, inhaling deeply before speaking up.

"Kai", he greeted, sounding surprisingly welcoming.

"Rey is out shopping groceries, I am afraid he forgot his phone. I can ask him to call you back, but I think there is something you should know".

"Well", I said.

"Spill it".

I could almost picture his beaming grin when I for once rewarded him with a friendly response.

"After you asked Rey to keep an eye on things while you were gone the neighbors have started acting really weird", he said, sounding genuinely concerned.

"What neighbors?" I inquired, although I already knew.

"The ones from across the road….you know, the read head and that freaky guy, the one who looks like he is on steroids".

I couldn't help but snicker at his very fitting description, and he laughed as well.

"Well…I am sorry but that is what he looks like", he defended himself, still laughing.

"You should tell him", I responded, my smile abruptly disappearing when I realized who I was talking to.

It felt almost surreal that the two of us could actually have a somewhat normal conversation. Then again the idea made me uncomfortable. Tyson seemed very outgoing, friendly, even though I hadn't exactly contributed to making a decent first impression. Still, he was giving me a second chance, which I would admit was generous on his part. Especially after what Rey had told me regarding Hilary, I had to admit that I couldn't exactly blame him should he hold a grudge against me. But no, he seemed to have decided not to. In his place I would probably have walked over and beaten up the guy, but he was different, more forgiving.

"Anyway", Tyson said, seemingly having picked up on my now serious demeanor.

"The one on steroids"

"Bryan", I supplied without thinking, immediately regretting my own words.

"You know him?" Tyson asked.

"It is the name on the mailbox", I said truthfully.

"Oh…..yeah, Bryan then. He has been lurking about in your garden. Me and the others have caught him at least a dozen times just today, and he always leaves when he sees us".

There was another pause, and I gritted my teeth in annoyance.

"You know, I think he is trying to get in, I just don't understand why", Tyson thoughtfully continued.

"Next time call the police", I said, suddenly feeling preoccupied again.

There had to be something they wanted, but they wouldn't get it without seeming suspicious so long as Rey, Tyson and the others were around. I would just have to hope that whatever it was they didn't get it before I managed to get home. From a realistic standpoint I knew that I probably wouldn't be allowed to leave in another four days, and by then I had been gone a week.

"I will be back in a few days", I told Tyson matter of factly.

"Would it be okay for you to continue keeping an eye on things until then?"

"Sure, not a problem", he immediately said.

"Good", I responded, and then, as an afterthought; " And Tyson….thank you, I appreciate it".

I cut the call before he had the time to answer, slowly leaning back against the cushions. The best thing that could happen would be if Bryan, Tala or perhaps the both them, were detained. That would teach them a lesson, in addition to the fact that I wouldn't have to worry at all. Of course, the idea of them spending a couple of nights in prison wasn't exactly unappealing to me. It would serve them right; Bryan in particular. I still couldn't quite decide on why I disliked him to such an extent, although there was something faintly familiar about him. Then again I couldn't recall the two of us having met before. With a head shake I dismissed the whole thing, grabbing the remote to the flat screen TV, which was bolted to the wall facing my bed.

Bryan and Tala would have to wait. There really wasn't too much I could do about it at the present, and with a certain resignation I kicked off the sweatpants, creeping underneath the covers to watch TV and sip hot chocolate, which one of the maids had brought me. I ended up watching a western of all things, and somehow I found it to be oddly appropriate. It was a classic, for a fistful of dollars, starring Clint Eastwood and directed by the legendry Sergio Leone. It was a world I could indentify myself with, a place in which there were no heroes. The hero was the one who was the fastest on the trigger, and that individual was not necessarily a good person.

I could see myself in him, always motivated by my own goals and desires, whatever those were. And, every now and then I fucked up, deciding to put someone else before myself, which ended up a disaster. Still, he survived, he came out on the other side.

I hoped I would as well, and that if I did…..I would still be the same person…