DISCLAIMER: I need to write original fiction, just so I don't have to write
disclaimers! Ok, ok, I'll say it! Me no own.
A/N: This is supposed to be historically accurate, so if you find an small
anachronism, do tell me. Also, this is my first Lizzie McGuire fic that is
longer than a one-shot or song-fic. Tell me if I am moving too fast/slow.
And check out http://www.casperserver.com/index.php?modul=links for links
to Adam Lamberg sites!
Logan had been marching for days. She couldn't see a thing, she was blindfolded and her hands were bound. They still thought she was a male, which could be to her disadvantage. Her blonde hair had been roughly cropped short, right before she left home. Her real name was Elizabeth, but no army officials knew that. She had posed as "Logan" while fighting in the war, but had been assigned as a spy. She was good at it too. Until she risked it all for battle plans. She was captured, and brought to what she was now facing. Finally, she felt the people around her coming to a halt. Actually, the man who had been her captor and was to be her jail guard was nice to her. She had only seen him once, right before she had been wrestled to the ground and had been bound and gagged. She could feel a concrete floor below her shoeless feet, indicating that they were inside. The man handcuffed her to a few jail bars and reached up to remove her blindfold. As the scratchy black material fell down around her neck like a necklace, she saw him. His face was oval shaped, with defined features. His dark, penetrating eyes were the most distinctive feature on his face. They were penetrating, but not cold. In fact they offered warmth and safety to the frightened girl. His curlyish hair was slightly matted to his head. Her tongue came slightly over her lips, wetting them, before she realized what she was doing. She slowly pulled her tongue back in, catching her bottom lip with it. She tasted something foreign, and realized it was blood. She fingered it, completely forgetting all other things, until she felt a wet rag smack her face. She held it on the blood for a few minutes and surveyed her surroundings. It was a simple concrete prison, but everything seemed to brighten with the gorgeous jail guard. The group of people left, evidently trudging on to another part of the dismal building. The guard sat on a crude chair and rested his gun across his middle. He allowed his curly, dirty hair to rest against the wall. Elizabeth tried to sit down on the jail-room floor, but found her handcuffs wouldn't allow her to. She tried again, and again. Out of pure annoyance, the guard came to her and unlocked the handcuffs, allowing her to slide her back down the wall. He sat back down and carefully eyed her. "So your name is Logan?" She violently shook her head, yearning to answer, yet hesitant to actually speak. "Scared are you?" She again started to shake her head, but stopped, not sure if a guy would admit being that scared. "I see, well, you are not nearly scared enough. Most guys come in here and sit in a corner and cry and starve themselves and junk. You are obviously not like that." She gave a sarcastic smile and turned and stared at the walls of her cell, which had no windows, no holes, no contact with the outside world, except the bars. "You know," he said, watching her memorize every detail of the soiled wall, "the general's wife is coming to look at the new prisoners today. If you catch her eye, you might just be let go, if you get where I'm going with this." He guffawed and raised his eyebrows. "Not very talkative, are we?" Elizabeth turned her head and forced a smile. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the room and she could see semi-well. No light was coming into the room, aside from the tiny sliver protruding from below the door. What seemed like days later, the door swung open, slamming against the wall. The light hurt Elizabeth's eyes and she squinted and blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend what was happening.
Logan had been marching for days. She couldn't see a thing, she was blindfolded and her hands were bound. They still thought she was a male, which could be to her disadvantage. Her blonde hair had been roughly cropped short, right before she left home. Her real name was Elizabeth, but no army officials knew that. She had posed as "Logan" while fighting in the war, but had been assigned as a spy. She was good at it too. Until she risked it all for battle plans. She was captured, and brought to what she was now facing. Finally, she felt the people around her coming to a halt. Actually, the man who had been her captor and was to be her jail guard was nice to her. She had only seen him once, right before she had been wrestled to the ground and had been bound and gagged. She could feel a concrete floor below her shoeless feet, indicating that they were inside. The man handcuffed her to a few jail bars and reached up to remove her blindfold. As the scratchy black material fell down around her neck like a necklace, she saw him. His face was oval shaped, with defined features. His dark, penetrating eyes were the most distinctive feature on his face. They were penetrating, but not cold. In fact they offered warmth and safety to the frightened girl. His curlyish hair was slightly matted to his head. Her tongue came slightly over her lips, wetting them, before she realized what she was doing. She slowly pulled her tongue back in, catching her bottom lip with it. She tasted something foreign, and realized it was blood. She fingered it, completely forgetting all other things, until she felt a wet rag smack her face. She held it on the blood for a few minutes and surveyed her surroundings. It was a simple concrete prison, but everything seemed to brighten with the gorgeous jail guard. The group of people left, evidently trudging on to another part of the dismal building. The guard sat on a crude chair and rested his gun across his middle. He allowed his curly, dirty hair to rest against the wall. Elizabeth tried to sit down on the jail-room floor, but found her handcuffs wouldn't allow her to. She tried again, and again. Out of pure annoyance, the guard came to her and unlocked the handcuffs, allowing her to slide her back down the wall. He sat back down and carefully eyed her. "So your name is Logan?" She violently shook her head, yearning to answer, yet hesitant to actually speak. "Scared are you?" She again started to shake her head, but stopped, not sure if a guy would admit being that scared. "I see, well, you are not nearly scared enough. Most guys come in here and sit in a corner and cry and starve themselves and junk. You are obviously not like that." She gave a sarcastic smile and turned and stared at the walls of her cell, which had no windows, no holes, no contact with the outside world, except the bars. "You know," he said, watching her memorize every detail of the soiled wall, "the general's wife is coming to look at the new prisoners today. If you catch her eye, you might just be let go, if you get where I'm going with this." He guffawed and raised his eyebrows. "Not very talkative, are we?" Elizabeth turned her head and forced a smile. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the room and she could see semi-well. No light was coming into the room, aside from the tiny sliver protruding from below the door. What seemed like days later, the door swung open, slamming against the wall. The light hurt Elizabeth's eyes and she squinted and blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend what was happening.