Everything was perfectly symmetrical in the hotel room, making it easier for Chris to live here long term. No cleaners were allowed inside, not only due to security risks, but he didn't need or want them altering any rooms. The penthouse was on the forty-second floor of a forty-five story high-rise, located within walking distance of Central Park. The layout was open, with the kitchen in the center, adjacent to the large living room. The panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline gave him easy vantage points if needed, so he kept a few sniper rifles and long distance rifles within easy reach, placed strategically throughout the penthouse.

Dana wondered through the penthouse while he began laying out his weapons on the kitchen counter. He unclipped each magazine from the two pistols he carried, re-loaded them, then clipped them back into place. The knives - a six inch hunting blade and a eight inch stealth blade - were lined up next to the fire arms. Once everything was laid out and accounted for, he stripped off his jacket, moving to hang it in the hallway closet.

Walking back into the kitchen, he stopped short when he found Dana standing at the bench, eyeing the weapons with trepidation. He remained silent as he watched her carefully pick up the hunting knife, turning it over in her hands, testing the weight. Two years ago he had brought her to a similar hotel after saving her, their circumstances much the same as tonight. Only this time people were after Dana and Chris wasn't sure why. No-one who had known his close proximity to Dana should be alive. He had killed them all. Someone had leaked information, or perhaps someone who wanted him dead had spotted him hanging around Dana.

"Are you hurt?" Dana asked suddenly, pulling Chris from his thoughts. The knife looked much larger in her small hands as she flipped it over, watching the light shine off of the polished metal blade.

"No," he replied.

The bullet wound was only a fraction of the pain he had gone through in his life time. It was manageable. Chris made his way to the main bathroom and, after a short while, he heard Dana follow. He sat on the edge of the bathtub, a first aid kit laid out on the floor, and began by rolling up the leg of his trousers. Dana sucked in a sharp breath at the bloody hole in his shin, just under the knee. It actually hit in a good spot; no fractured bones or severed artery. All he would have to do is remove the bullet and give it a couple of stitches.

Chris dug the tweezers into his flesh, grunting at the sharp sensation that rippled up his leg. The bullet was deeper than he originally thought. Blocking off every other sound in the room, including Dana's heavy breathing, he dug them in again, this time managing to feel the end of the metal bullet before the pain became too much and he yanked his arm back.

That's when Dana's soft voice broke through his carefully concentrated focus. "Want me to try?"

"Try?"

"That," she said, motioning to his leg.

She wanted to dig the bullet out? "Why?"

Sighing, she stomped over and crouched down in front of him, taking the tweezers from his grip. "Because it clearly hurts and it'll probably be easier if someone else does it for you. Mind over matter."

It was a good point. Chris nodded and sat back, ignoring the feeling of another persons body close to his own as she lent forward. The lights in the bathroom were too bright, distracting, so he closed his eyes to shut them out. When nothing happened, he glanced down to see Dana staring at his leg, her hand frozen just inches away from the bullet wound. Her face displayed no emotion he could easily recognise.

Noticing him staring, Dana shook her head. "I'm fine. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

She gripped the end of the bullet and dragged it out of his leg, all the while he remained staring ahead, eyes fixated on the pattern of the tiles on the wall. It clanked against the small metal bowl he had brought in from the kitchen. Blood trickled down his leg as the edges of the wound throbbed with pain.

With obvious relief, Dana sat back and smiled up at him. "It's out."

Acknowledging her with a stiff nod, he bent down to begin sewing the wound shut. Dana, suddenly looking a little green, promptly left the bathroom. Once he completed sewing and bandaging his leg, Chris meticulously placed everything back within the first aid box before putting it back under the bathroom sink. He took the small metal bowl into the kitchen and sat it down next to his weapons. The bullet, once identified, will tell him what sort of gun it was shot from. Once he had the weapon, then it was a matter of cross referencing every gun shop in the state that sold that sort of firearm with every male buyer that fit the descriptions of the men he had killed. If he could identify them, then he could find out who they worked for.

But first...

Without looking over at where Dana sat curled up on the couch, he said, "You felt sick. I'll order something for you to eat."

"No. I'm fine," she responded quietly, eyeing the artwork hanging on the far wall. "Christian, what's going on? I feel like we've been through this before - two years ago. I haven't even seen you since then and now... How did you even know people were after me?"

"I didn't." He looked towards her for a moment before glancing down at the bullet in front of him. "I've been watching you for a few weeks and-."

"What?" Now her focus was back on him, and he could tell she was angry. "You've been stalking me!"

"Yes. Someone who wants me dead must have noticed my fixation on you, wanting to use you in order to get to me. You'll be safe with me until I figure everything out."

"Why?" Her question threw him off, and when it was clear to her that he wasn't entirely sure on what she meant, Dana jumped off of the couch and moved to stand on the other side of the kitchen isle. "Why are you so fixated on me? You left two years ago without a word. I thought you were dead."

That's what she was asking; why was he so obsessed with her? It was easy for him to explain, though Chris knew it was a concept most normal people struggled with comprehending. "I can't abandon something I've started."

Dana's eyed narrowed. "Explain what the heck that means, Christian."

"It means that I have feelings for you," he stated.

She leaned back slightly, blinking rapidly, her facial expression one of surprise. He could instantly tell that that was not the answer she was expecting. While he felt no embarrassment at telling her, he did feel slightly uneasy. He had no experience with these emotions, so he wasn't sure on how to act on them. Telling her seemed like the best place to start, though now that she knew, he was beginning to back track, wondering if he had made the right call. Her response was odd to him, as was her following silence. All she had to do was tell him whether she reciprocated those feelings or not, but she remained silent.

He broke the silence by saying, "You're upset."

Dana slowly lowered herself onto one of the bench stools, staring at the counter top as her mind processed everything he had just told her. "No. Not upset. Just... confused."

"About which part?"

"All of it," she exclaimed, placing her head in her hands, creating a veil with her hair. "I can't believe I'm being dragged into this all over again."

So that's why she seemed frustrated and upset? It wasn't due to his confession. "I'm sorry, Dana."

It was quiet for a long time. Chris went to work cleaning the bullet before sending pictures through to his connections, hoping for a possible hit on any stores that sold the weapon the bullet belonged too. Dana sat motionless, back rigid, as he pulled apart and cleaned his weapons, storing them in multiple locations throughout the penthouse. He grabbed a cup of cold water once he was finished and placed it in front of Dana, eliciting any sort of reaction from her. He was worried about her enough to sit down on the stool beside her, though still keeping a safe distance between them. She sipped the water, all the while staring blankly ahead.

After a few tense minutes, she asked, "So, what do we do now?"

"I keep you safe. I find out who is orchestrating these attacks and kill them." His tone conveyed no fear or shame in what needed to be done. It was simply business.

"Right. And what happens after?" Dana's hands curled around the glass, her fingers going white with pressure. Chris turned slightly to look at her as she continued to stare straight ahead. "Will you disappear again?"

He couldn't do that one more time - not without an answer. He had gone two years without completing something that had been stuck in the back of his mind, always drawing his focus away from important tasks. It was torture for him. The very urge - the point of his fixation - is what had brought him back into Dana's world and despite the dangers they were now both in, he would never regret that decision.

"That depends," he said.

Her eyes finally refocused, flickering to meet his own before he glanced away, but not before noticing the green flecks in her eyes. "On what?"

"Your response to my feelings for you," he told her.

"I - Christian, there's just so much going on right now and I can barely get my mind around it all. An hour ago I was in my apartment getting ready for bed and now-."

"Your apartment is a crime scene," he finished.

"Yes. Exactly."

It was a solid point, one he could understand. Dana would be in shock over everything that has happened, not to mention scared, exhausted and confused. He remembered then that most everyone else processed their emotions and thoughts differently. They weren't able to sift through them, pushing what emotions weren't relevant aside to make way for the more important issues. She was obviously struggling to handle everything, and didn't need him adding to her distress.

Sliding a hard backed book with the hotels food service menu in it towards her, he said, "Eat before going to bed."

Dana stood up at the same time he did. "Where are you going?"

"To secure the perimeter, make sure no-one tracked us back here."

Without waiting for a response, he left the room, tucking a semi-automatic pistol into the waist band of his trousers and covering it with his shirt. The security in the hotel was one of the main reasons he had chosen it. Security guards monitored who came in and out of the foyer, the parking garages were secured with a double gate system, and the windows in every hotel room were double lined and bullet proof. A lot of celebrities and high up politicians used this hotel, making it worth the money he was spending in order to live here. It was also the nicest hotel within Manhattan, and he wanted Dana to like it.