Helena reclined on her favorite chair with a book in hand. It had been a
long, confusing day for her, and the night finally came with its dark yet
oddly comforting embrace.
A doctor came to the mansion earlier and checked on her rescuer. He was not as badly hurt as she had first thought, and arranged for him to stay in her home until he recovered. She had given one of her maids orders to look after him, but for the most part she planned to take care of him herself. She wanted to know what his reason was for coming to her, so she wanted to be there at the first signs of recovery.
She knew who he was, of course. Even before the first tournament she had entered, she had seen him before. He had been part, albeit innocently, of a past life that she tried hard to get away from. But everywhere she went, they always seemed to catch up to her. And now he was here -- poison, yet she could not help but be drawn back again.
The book fell when her arm fell, and closed in upon itself. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but that only made them heavier. If she had a weakness, she knew it was this. She could hold her own against many a tough opponent, but she always gave in against the struggle from sleep. It wasn't brute force that could defeat her, it was the subtle, gentle seduction of the senses.
Just as she had closed her eyes sweetly to the comfort of rest, she was woken up by the call of her own name. A servant had shouted it upstairs from where Hayate had been assigned. She got up immediately, her mind and body reacting as if programmed. She walked up the staircase, on the marble floor, but was stopped by the sight of the Japanese man leaning against the walls in the corridor, struggling to walk. The maid was behind him, hands over her mouth, not sure of what to do. His shirt was off, instead being covered by white bandages on where the gun shot wounds had been. He spotted her, and he went immediately towards her. But from what she could tell by his movements, he was still to weak, and as he fell to the floor just before her, his eyes rolled back and he called out her name.
Helena called for the frightened maid. They both pulled him up, but he was deceptively heavy for a man with a relatively slight frame -- his dead weight being more than enough of a struggle for them as they carried him back to his room. Though down and weakened, Hayate was not totally unconscious. All the while, he mentioned her name over, trying desperately hard to talk. When they placed him back on the bed, Helena guessed his head wasn't as hazy, and he could now talk more coherently.
"Helena...I...must...speak...with..." he said between sharp intakes of breath.
He was sweating profusely and Helena got a towel and wiped his forehead and neck and shoulders. With a cold and as disinterested voice as she could make, she told him to shut up and calm down. Finally, after about ten minutes of this, he finally went quite and fell to sleep. Helena, too, was getting tired. And after a minute of making sure, she fell back to a nearby chair. She was exhausted, it was more than what her daily kinds of activity was usually like. The maid had left quietly, and after what seemed like hours of simply staring at him, she once again lost her struggle and drifted off to sleep.
When she woke, it was already light. It passed through the glass panes filling the large room. She also noticed that she was not the only one awake. Her rescuer had his eyes wide open staring silently at her. Stretching her back and arms while still on the chair, she broke the silence. "How long have you been up?"
"Not long." He answered, not taking his eyes off her.
"And you didn't try to get up and leave like you did last night."
"Well, I'm already where I need to be."
Helena crossed her eyes in confusion, but then remembered last night. "Oh yes, you wanted to speak with me."
Hayate nodded his head.
She started to get up and stood at the foot of his bed. "Maybe later, right now you need to rest some more."
"No!" He interrupted, and began to sit up. "The sooner I speak with you, the sooner I'll feel at ease."
Helena raised an eyebrow. "Okay then, what about?"
Hayate closed his eyes. "No, this isn't how I want to start it."
Her mouth curved to a slight smile, amused.
Her guest only sighed. "Who was that trying to kill you anyway?"
Helena's face suddenly turned serious. "You don't know? And here I thought you just went around saving opera singers randomly."
"No, I came here to see you. Then I saw a gun being pointed in your direction." Hayate paused a bit. "Who did you piss off anyway?"
She fell silent to think. She had a fairly good idea about who would want her dead. "I don't know."
"It's DOATEC isn't it?" She looked up to see Hayate looking straight into her eyes.
It was her turn to sigh. "I don't know Hayate. Unlike you, my whole world doesn't revolve around fighting. I have a whole 'nother life outside some martial arts tournament."
"He doesn't seem to think so." Hayate shot back. "He's still trying to draw you in."
"Who are you talking about?"
"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You're not the only one whose life Donovan has screwed over."
"Oh yes, you and your sister." Helena remembered about him. "How is she anyway?"
Hayate remained silent. His eyes wandered down to the white sheets. He seemed to be pained by the question. At last he only whispered. "I don't know."
She decided not to inquire anymore. It was a sore subject. She couldn't blame him really for not wanting to talk about it. She wondered what it's like to be going through what he did - to be hunting down your own sister.
"Look, just stay here for a while." Helena said as she began heading out towards the doorway. "You're welcomed to stay as long as you like. And after you feel better, you can go do whatever it is you people do."
As she left room, she could feel Hayate continue to stare at her.
A doctor came to the mansion earlier and checked on her rescuer. He was not as badly hurt as she had first thought, and arranged for him to stay in her home until he recovered. She had given one of her maids orders to look after him, but for the most part she planned to take care of him herself. She wanted to know what his reason was for coming to her, so she wanted to be there at the first signs of recovery.
She knew who he was, of course. Even before the first tournament she had entered, she had seen him before. He had been part, albeit innocently, of a past life that she tried hard to get away from. But everywhere she went, they always seemed to catch up to her. And now he was here -- poison, yet she could not help but be drawn back again.
The book fell when her arm fell, and closed in upon itself. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but that only made them heavier. If she had a weakness, she knew it was this. She could hold her own against many a tough opponent, but she always gave in against the struggle from sleep. It wasn't brute force that could defeat her, it was the subtle, gentle seduction of the senses.
Just as she had closed her eyes sweetly to the comfort of rest, she was woken up by the call of her own name. A servant had shouted it upstairs from where Hayate had been assigned. She got up immediately, her mind and body reacting as if programmed. She walked up the staircase, on the marble floor, but was stopped by the sight of the Japanese man leaning against the walls in the corridor, struggling to walk. The maid was behind him, hands over her mouth, not sure of what to do. His shirt was off, instead being covered by white bandages on where the gun shot wounds had been. He spotted her, and he went immediately towards her. But from what she could tell by his movements, he was still to weak, and as he fell to the floor just before her, his eyes rolled back and he called out her name.
Helena called for the frightened maid. They both pulled him up, but he was deceptively heavy for a man with a relatively slight frame -- his dead weight being more than enough of a struggle for them as they carried him back to his room. Though down and weakened, Hayate was not totally unconscious. All the while, he mentioned her name over, trying desperately hard to talk. When they placed him back on the bed, Helena guessed his head wasn't as hazy, and he could now talk more coherently.
"Helena...I...must...speak...with..." he said between sharp intakes of breath.
He was sweating profusely and Helena got a towel and wiped his forehead and neck and shoulders. With a cold and as disinterested voice as she could make, she told him to shut up and calm down. Finally, after about ten minutes of this, he finally went quite and fell to sleep. Helena, too, was getting tired. And after a minute of making sure, she fell back to a nearby chair. She was exhausted, it was more than what her daily kinds of activity was usually like. The maid had left quietly, and after what seemed like hours of simply staring at him, she once again lost her struggle and drifted off to sleep.
When she woke, it was already light. It passed through the glass panes filling the large room. She also noticed that she was not the only one awake. Her rescuer had his eyes wide open staring silently at her. Stretching her back and arms while still on the chair, she broke the silence. "How long have you been up?"
"Not long." He answered, not taking his eyes off her.
"And you didn't try to get up and leave like you did last night."
"Well, I'm already where I need to be."
Helena crossed her eyes in confusion, but then remembered last night. "Oh yes, you wanted to speak with me."
Hayate nodded his head.
She started to get up and stood at the foot of his bed. "Maybe later, right now you need to rest some more."
"No!" He interrupted, and began to sit up. "The sooner I speak with you, the sooner I'll feel at ease."
Helena raised an eyebrow. "Okay then, what about?"
Hayate closed his eyes. "No, this isn't how I want to start it."
Her mouth curved to a slight smile, amused.
Her guest only sighed. "Who was that trying to kill you anyway?"
Helena's face suddenly turned serious. "You don't know? And here I thought you just went around saving opera singers randomly."
"No, I came here to see you. Then I saw a gun being pointed in your direction." Hayate paused a bit. "Who did you piss off anyway?"
She fell silent to think. She had a fairly good idea about who would want her dead. "I don't know."
"It's DOATEC isn't it?" She looked up to see Hayate looking straight into her eyes.
It was her turn to sigh. "I don't know Hayate. Unlike you, my whole world doesn't revolve around fighting. I have a whole 'nother life outside some martial arts tournament."
"He doesn't seem to think so." Hayate shot back. "He's still trying to draw you in."
"Who are you talking about?"
"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You're not the only one whose life Donovan has screwed over."
"Oh yes, you and your sister." Helena remembered about him. "How is she anyway?"
Hayate remained silent. His eyes wandered down to the white sheets. He seemed to be pained by the question. At last he only whispered. "I don't know."
She decided not to inquire anymore. It was a sore subject. She couldn't blame him really for not wanting to talk about it. She wondered what it's like to be going through what he did - to be hunting down your own sister.
"Look, just stay here for a while." Helena said as she began heading out towards the doorway. "You're welcomed to stay as long as you like. And after you feel better, you can go do whatever it is you people do."
As she left room, she could feel Hayate continue to stare at her.