Sailor Moon does not belong to me. I wish it did.
Characters are OOC
I stared at him in shock. My mind shut down as his lips twitched at the corners.
"What? When did this happen? How?" I stumbled through the words, my mind still in a haze.
He started to walk down the hall, with me in tow. In a raspy breath he whispered "Not now. Not here. Later."
His voice shot shivers down my spine to the core of my stomach. It was like melted chocolate. Rich, tantalizing, low, and dark. I don't know why I listened to this ludicrous man. Why I started to move my feet father in stride to match his. Or why I so badly wanted to feel that hand on my skin instead of through the cloth. I don't even know why, when he touched me, I wanted to reach into his hair, to feel how silky it is, and run my hand along the muscles in his back. I tried to tare my thoughts from him. Of the male scent that hung in the air around my nose. Of the rugged chin and those shapely lips.
Suddenly, a wind tore into my face. Outside. Freedom. Now I could run. He wouldn't come after me and even if he did I could scream and people would come. This is a hospital; there are always people around. I looked into his face, the cold eyes and the tension that bunched his shoulder muscles together, and made my choice. I ran. Madly I ripped my hand from his grasp, trying to loosen my arm. No success. I tried hitting him next. He ignored the blows without batting an eyelash. Then I tried screaming. My mouth opened and instead of finding air I found a hand. I bit down. He swore and moved the hand holding my arm, quickly, around my waist. He lifted my off the ground, kicking and biting, and brought my to the car.
The car itself was a red, Ford mini van. He placed my on my face in the back and covered my with an itchy wool blanket. Closing my eyes and prayed to God for help. I was so tried. The painkillers were starting to dim my mind, setting walls between me and the world around me. For a second time I fell into sleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
This time when I opened my eyes to the world I didn't see white walls, Thank God. I was again in a small room, but no window. The brass bed looked as if it was going to tumble down into scrap. The ceiling had water stains creeping from a far corner, and the walls were painted puke green. I tossed my legs over the side of the bed; intent of letting my anger get the better of me. I was going to let Darien find out what it is like to be a human punching bag. Quickly I lifted myself out of the bed. Dizziness overtook me. I clutched at the disgusting wall, trying to make my way to the warped door when a man walked in. He was short man with a shock white receding hairline, and a stomach that couldn't fit in his pants. He looked at me for a second, then stuck out his huge hand for a shake while smiling to me as if we were friends from long ago. I didn't know what to make of it. His smile faded a bit, and suddenly, for a man that very well is my captor, I felt bad. So I seized up his large hand with my petite one and smiled my most charming smile. Then, with a creaking of a door and sound of heavy feet hitting the floor, Darien walked in. I froze. The muscles in my back clamped together and my smile died. The short, pleasant man looked between us and declared, "You must have already met."
Laughing a high and bitter laugh I responded "Yea, I guess you might say that." Then without warring I pulled my hand from his grip and smacked my hand, palm out, on Darien's cheek.
"That's for hitting me, you S.O.B." I said between clenched teeth. I lifted my hand again to strike him. The sound of flesh whipping flesh registered in my mind before I broke down on the floor.
Sobbing and cursing I tried to hit him yet again. He caught my hand in both of his and kneeled down toward me.
"I'm sorry." He said quietly while the fat man slipped out of the room.
I laughed. "Your sorry?" I asked him sarcastically. "Well, hell, I feel so much better now." I managed between sobs and grasps for air.
Leaning down he took my body into his and held me. I shrugged away. Pushing at his chest, with both of my hands, to keep him away. "You hit me. You took me. You let those men, pretending to be American soldiers, ransack the dead. You have no...no..." My words died off, the little amount of energy used for that speech warred out. He let me yell and scream and hit him in the chest until, tiered, hungry, and eyes that were rimmed with red, he sat me down on my bed and told me why he thought I was the savior of North America.
"There are a group of terrorist," says he," That wanted America to fall. We only know a little about the organization but we do know we are looking for a man named Terzokies. He developed a type of water chemical that cannot be extracted or detected. After years he found it, calling it Cromonsone 6, naming it after that stupid book. I guess he figured it was irony. The only problem he had than was if it would work on human beings. So traveling back to his home country he put this chemical into the water supply. Now what is the genus about the chemical is that is really isn't a chemical but a group of small machines, enough to fit into the blood stream. You can turn those machines off and on at any moment he chooses. They attack they same way a poison might by stopping major organs. Scientist have been trying to develop this to help people, but they got to it first, making it into a weapon."
He stopped, looking to her curious to see her reaction. "Well, where do I fit in?"
"You have, in your body, the only known anti machine to this. While you were at the airport, there was a man being chased by other man. Do you remember that?"
"Yes." I remembered it very well. He passed by me, all of that blond hair streaming behind him, then him running ahead, when soon he was shot. I closed off the memory before I could cry for the man.
"He was a scientist who was making the drug and the cure. At the last stages of the experiment he stole the cure and ran of with it, in the end getting shot for it, but not before he pricked you with a needle. That short time he was standing beside you he did it. He put the cure machines into you. When you where going on vacation they were plotting so when you went through that town not only would you see the death but you would meet them. It didn't work out."
"I was early." I said interrupting him. "They killed all of those people because of me?" I asked with a flat tone that gave away to me shock.
"No not because of you." He was holding my hands in a heartbeat, me not pulling away, needing to be held for this moment. "Because of them. They would have done it anyway. You were just there."
"One more thing, Darien. Who said 'we' a lot. Who are 'we'?
A took a deep breath before answering. "CIA"