AN: Uh… funny story… my notebook got rained on. For two days straight. I couldn't write on my trip. But it survived, and I got two chapters written last night! Oh and, this is a long one.

Chapter 11: Lea

He's back. He went somewhere, but now he's back. To be honest, his presence stabilizes me, even if I can sense the blood on him from this far away.

Whoever's blood it is, I doubt they deserved death. I doubt they were ready for it. But now they're dead, and there wasn't a whole lot I or anyone could do about it.

Not that that was the immediate problem. The immediate problem wasn't even my own health.

The immediate problem was when my mom would decide to stop freaking out.

She's been at it for more than an hour now.

I've never understood the need adults feel to ask again and again if you're alright.

"I'm sitting in a hospital after being poisoned by a psycho rapist and seeing him get killed, do you think I'm fine?!" I finally snapped.

My mother blinked, "well, um…"

"No," I cut her off, "if you thought I was fine, you wouldn't ask so much."

I rolled away from her, closing my eyes. I was pretty tired anyways.

After a couple minutes I dropped off.

I awake to my father shaking my shoulder. We said goodbye and I apologize, blaming my behavior on exhaustion and stress. They leave.

I unmute the television, flicking through the channels. Cartoon network is the most entertaining thing I can find.

I keep fingering the folded note as I watch. I always do something with my hands. Fiddling with a hair-tie, flipping a pencil, fingering a note. I enjoy discovering the ways an object can move. A pencil can swirl around your fingers. A hair-tie can tie in knots or bind your hands together. The note doesn't do much, but it comforts me to be doing something with my hands.

There's a quiet knock on my door. I glance at the clock. 8 o'clock. It's well past visiting hours.

"Come in," I call, stowing the note under my pillows.

Dr. Mann pokes his head through the door, "Lea," he says, "How are you feeling?"

There's that question again. "good," I reply, and gesture towards the table, "your sample is over there."

He picks up the plastic container, placing it in his pocket, "Good, thank you."

"Do you know what the drug was?"

He looks right at me, "We believe is was similar to a date-rape pill, only in liquid form, and it didn't make you completely dead to the world, so less potent."

"Huh," I huff, "How do you think a teenage boy got hold of it?"

"I honestly don't know."

The eyes, him, he's definitely watching me, taking interest. His thoughts are sharper and quicker than I've ever felt them. It's more of a nuisance than anything else. I wish he wouldn't pay such close attention. He has plenty of others to watch.

Until I figure out a way to tell him that, and I probably wouldn't have the guts anyways, I'll just have to deal with it.

Dr. Mann is still hanging around. I stare at him pointedly.

"There are, um, people here to see you," He says.

"I thought visiting hours were over."

"They… have a pass." He explains lamely.

"Did the police find a suspect?"

No, it's…" He looks around warily, "They're from somewhere else."

I start putting up guards, sealing myself off. I feel like I need to be protected. I don't like where this is going…

"Okay… I guess I have to talk to them, I can't decline?"

"No."

I let out a long breath, "Let them in."

Two men enter the room. They are dressed like normal people, but they move with a wariness that makes them look anything but normal.

I wonder what their work is. They would stick out a mile in a crowd.

Maybe that's the point.

Whatever they did, I don't like the look of them. They seem like they know what they're doing. They seem like they do this all the time.

"Hello, Lea," Says the first man, "I'm here to ask you some questions."

"Hi." I reply.

"I am The Inspector, and this is my assistant, James." The second gives a curt nod, but doesn't speak.

"The Inspector, no actual name?" I ask.

He squints at me, "That is my code name. It's what I go by when I am working."

I shrug, "Okay, Mr. Inspector. Ask away."

He sighs and sits in the chair next to my bed. "Lea, we are with The Organization. We-"

"THE Inspector, THE Organization. What's next, THE Asshole?" My natural defense is extreme sarcasm.

"Lea, you don't-"

"I don't understand." I cut him off, "Maybe you're right, but I can guess a lot. You have the ability to come in here past visiting hours, so you need at least as much power as the police, and since you can interrogate me without cause and another adult present, you can get past certain laws and even parts of The Constitution. That leaves three options. One, you are a part of underworld with enough power to blackmail the hospital. Two, You are part of the government with access equal to or higher than the CIA. Or, three, you are with a private organization unknown to the government operating under your own power." I paused to draw breath.

Both men were looking at me, James with a mixture of shock and admiration, and The Inspector with calculating intelligence.

"Also, based on your clothing and equipment, you aren't with the organized crime, otherwise there would be a gun pointed at my head right now, and you aren't with the government, you're too casually dressed. So you're with a private organization. On with enough power, influence and money to gain entry to a private hospital. How did I do?"

"Not too badly." The Inspector says, "It's more than some adults can figure out. We might have recruited you under different circumstances."

"I see."

"As things stand, you may be in serious danger. We are here to help.

"Inspector, less than 24 hours ago, I was drugged and almost raped and killed. I'm in no danger here."

The Inspector leans forward slightly, drumming his fingers on his thigh, "That's where you're wrong, if we are right then your peril is only just beginning. Lea, we need to know what happened. Exactly what happened."

I shrug, "I already told the police. He drugged me, was about to rape me then I saw him get shot through the back. I passed out. That's all I saw."

"I want the truth, Lea."

"That was the truth."

He sighs, "Your story isn't airtight. First, if the bullet passed all the way through him, where's the bullet?"

I countered easily, "You can trace bullets, can't you. The killer probably took it with them, if they had any intelligence."

"Then why aren't you hurt?"

"Can anyone say why crazies kill one person but not another?"

"How did the body end up in the next alley over?"

I open my mouth to reply, then catch myself, "It was?"

"Yes."

"How could you tell it wasn't the same alley?"

"A scrap of cloth from your skirt,"

"Ah. That makes sense."

"Yes it was quite a sight. At least five puncture wounds, strangled to the point of decapitation, and thrown against the ground with such force it almost literally exploded. That, and the heart had been ripped out."

"But what could do all that?"

The Inspector sits back again, "We have a guess, nothing more, but we have a guess."

I tried to pretend my heart hadn't just stopped for about three seconds, and that now it wasn't pounding at the speed of sound, "A guess?"

"We believe the culprit is not, in fact, human, but something else."

I snort, "Ya, right, not possible."

We'll see." The Inspector snaps his fingers briskly and James steps forward.

He takes out a device which resembles a barcode scanned attached to a small screen by a cable. The harmless looking thing somehow terrifies me.

I feel the eyes' attention focus on me. They seem interested, but wary.

"This device," James explains, "Measures a certain byproduct of interaction with this being. The more residue, the more contact. About 75 is normal. 100 s pushing it. anywhere above 200 means you've had close contact. Any number past 400 means currently in contact, but that's unlikely."

I can't respond, not with words, but I act instinctively. I send out, as loud as possible, if the word "loud" can be used to describe thoughts, a panicked warning signal. I act for an unknown reason. I know why I do it, but the reaction is immediate.

The eyes disappear, and I left feeling twice as vulnerable as before, but relieved too, like it would somehow make a difference.

"So," I say, "you're going to scan me, weather I want you to or not, so you can see if this thing killed Max."

"Precisely."

I furrow my eyebrows, "well, I can't stop you since you're doing this under the radar."

I maintain the warning signal, increasing the frequency. The eyes recede. At least they seem to understand.

"That's correct," James steps forward with the device.

He holds the scanner above my hips, and presses a switch. A red light bathes my body.

James slowly pans the light over me, staring intently at the small screen. When the light reaches my neck, he instructs me to close my eyes. With my sight gone, I can almost feel the light traveling across my face.

I hear a beep and open my eyes.

James shuts down the scanner and patiently stares at the screen. After a few moments, the device dings like a microwave.

James studies the results wordlessly, and then turns the device over to The Inspector.

He, in turn, gazes at the screen, then holds it out to me.

I take the device, making a quick study of it.

Rectangular, about half an inch thick and 4 by 5 inches.

There are no buttons, but it's a touch screen.

I take a breath and look at the screen. An outline of my torso and head is displayed on it. The green outline is dotted with points of blue light. They crowd around my head and chest. There are significantly more on my left side as opposed to my right.

The number jumps out at me. Underlined, bold print, oversized, glowing digits.

350.

I register it, force myself to be shocked.

"You see?" The Inspector asks.

"I see. It would explain some things, but I don't believe it. Do you have proof this… THING… really exists?"

"We do." The Inspector stands up, "We can bring it to you tomorrow."

I give his a calculating stare, "Didn't you do a background check before you came here? You should have brought the information with you."

"The boss wouldn't allow it."

"Humph."

"He may be interested in you now, he may allow it."

"Yes, you take your camera and microphone and review the tapes."

The Inspector smiles, even James manages a little grin.

"We'll be in touch." The Inspector touches his forehead in a casual salute.

I nod in return, handing the strange device back to James. He stows it away.

I watch the two men leave.

"Close one," I say aloud, "There was no telling what could have happened."

The TV buzzes and flickers as if in response.

"I'm getting a lot of visitors today." I say.