Don't Dwell in the Past

I had to keep reminding myself that, when I got to Chandler, not to look up. Because, if I did, it would give away that Rob was up there - or just someone for that matter.

You know the saying 'Don't look down'? How, when people are on a plane or rock climbing or something, they say that? Well, it was the opposite for me.

Don't look up, Jess. Don't you dare.

I turned the corner into the alleyway, following what I remember from the dream, which happened to be pretty much everything. I walked slowly and carefully, so I wouldn't bump into something or so I could prevent an attack.

"Mastriani," someone said from behind. I spun around quickly. From the moonlight, I could make out a body, but the face was in the shadows. The voice sounded familiar, though . . .

Where had I heard that voice before . . . ?

Then it registered.

Oh, my GOD . . .

"Dean?" I asked unsurely.

I could feel him smirk. So it WAS him. "Ever the observant agent, Mastriani," he said. "Too bad that title won't last long. Or the name."

I honestly had no idea what he was talking about. After realizing that I truly didn't know what he meant, he said, "He's going to kill you, Mastriani."

I stayed still. I've gotten these threats before. I'm quite used to them now. I guess you could say I was jaded, fazed.

"Just take me to him, Reynolds," I said.

"Fine," he said and started walking in front of me. "Right this way."

God, and I used to trust this guy. The whole FBI trusted this guy. Krantz trusted this guy - and it's very hard to earn his trust, believe me.

And then I realized that this is why he wanted me to go out with him tonight. He wanted me to come with him so I'd be an easier target for the escaped rapist.

Great.

Is everyone out to get me?

He led me to a door in the alleyway. I stared at the door for a few seconds before following him in.

As soon as I walked in, I noticed a certain odor. It smelled horribly. Like something had died and was left rotting for a while.

I looked around the room - well, what I could see in the darkness. I noticed that it was rather big, like your average living room times two. There was a tiny light above us. Then I realized this must be a storage room.

Wonderful.

Then I heard a muffled scream. It wasn't that loud really, but I was trained to notice things like this.

I guess Reynolds, Mr. I'm-a-backstabbing-idiotic-asshole, heard it too, because he looked at me and smirked, before turning back around and continue walking.

I followed him until he turned a corner and into another smaller room, the size of your average bathroom. I looked in and saw Chandler there, bound by ropes and slightly cut up. She didn't look too bad, but I saw that she had been knocked out.

I saw another person in that room.

"Hello, Lightning Girl."

The rapist.

My life just keeps getting better and better, eh?

"What do you want?" I said, instead of a greeting.

He looked at me condescendingly. "What, no 'hello'?" he asked mockingly, looking back down at Chandler, probably admiring his work. He had done a number on her. "Right. Well, you know what I want, Ms. Mastriani." Then he looked back up at me, his eyes boring into me. "Revenge."

Okay, I could see right now that this little thing wasn't going to turn out well. The way he looked at me then had anger and murder written all over it. Good thing I had told Rob to come look for me if I wasn't out in fifteen minutes.

And I guess the 'Don't look up' thing didn't matter anymore, since we were inside a building. I figured we'd be outside somewhere where Rob could watch over. Guess not.

"Why?" I asked.

He looked at me like I was nuts. "Hmm . . . let's see. Well, you put me in jail, not to mention some of my friends . . ." he trailed off.

I sniffed. "And, what, you didn't deserve it?"

Okay, accusing and arguing with the felon is not such a good tactic.

"It doesn't matter if I deserve it or not," he said. "What matters is that you did it and I want revenge." He took a few menacing steps toward me. I stood my ground, though. But . . . um, well, he towered over me.

Then he looked up at Reynolds and said, "Go guard the door."

Reynolds did so with an, "Okay, Boss," before departing, leaving me alone with a rapist and an unconscious teenager.

This just keeps getting better and better.

"You didn't do anything to her, did you?" I asked. Not that I thought he'd tell me the truth, but I was just asking. I didn't think he'd done anything anyway.

"No," he said. "I would have if you had not come." Then he grinned maliciously and took another step closer.

Okay, I had roughly five minutes to buy time. I needed to keep him busy for five minutes. Then Rob would come.

Five minutes . . .

"So," I said, to start a conversation, "what do you plan to do to me?"

Okay, not the best conversation starter. And it was on a subject I really didn't want to know.

"Well," he said, "I have a few ideas." Then he cocked his head and took another step closer.

I took a few steps back.

First of all, he smelled horribly. Second, um, I didn't want to be that close to someone who wanted to rape and murder me. And, third, well, he still smelled gross.

He took more steps toward me and, again, I backed up.

That is, until I hit the wall behind me.

He grinned again.

Shit, I was cornered. And I knew it. He knew it too. And he knew I knew. And, worst of all, he knew that I knew he knew.

"A-and what would they be?" I asked.

"Hmm . . ." he said. "Well, they aren't very proper for starters." Then he took another step closer so that he was about an inch from me. I could feel his hot breath on my skin and it made me cringe.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked simply.

Before he answered, he ripped my top off. "Doing what?"

My eyes bulged out in horror. "THIS!" I shrieked.

All I have to say is, I am SO glad that I hid my gun in my shoe.

"What did you expect?" he asked. Then he pushed me against the wall and I yelped in horror. He put a hand over my mouth, saying, "Shh. We wouldn't want anyone to hear, now, would we?"

He shoved himself up on me and started feeling me up. Seriously.

All I kept thinking was, "Come on, Rob. Hurry UP!" I mean, where WAS he?

Then he stopped. Completely. He stepped back from me and said, "Take your shoes off."

I looked at him strangely. Did he know? Did he know I had my gun in there? "Why?"

He chuckled. "Why?" he asked. "Why is not the point. Just do it."

I stood up to him, defiantly. "No."

He shook his head at me, then proceeded to smack me across the face. It stung. A lot. "Do it. NOW."

"No," I said again. Then he stomped on my foot and smacked me across the face. Again.

Getting a little repetitive, aren't we?

Needless to say, I was in pain.

"Now, are you going to do it for me? Or do I have to do it for you?" he asked, mockingly.

"Go fuck yourself," I said. Obviously, that was not the answer he was looking for, for he pushed me down on the ground, despite how much I resisted.

Then he got on top of me and said, "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. What'll it be?" he asked.

I did what a woman has to do in this predicament.

I kneed him in the groin.

Well, I tried to anyway. I guess he knew that was coming, since he stopped my leg.

However, he did not see my next move coming.

Wanna know what I did?

I head-butted him.

He swung his head back in pain. "Arrgh!" he roared.

See, I learned how to do that without hurting myself. Much.

Then I kneed him in the groin and he rolled off of me in pain.

Only . . . well, there wasn't much I could do. I mean, Chandler was unconscious, so I couldn't do much with her. If I run away, he - the rapist - my do something to Chandler.

Where in the HELL is Rob?

The rapist recovered pretty quickly and he came at me again. I went to swing my leg up and kick him, but he caught it.

Damn him.

What do I do now?

Why did I try kicking him with the shoe that had the gun in it? GOD, I'm an IDIOT, I tell you!

I really didn't think that one through, I guess.

He twisted my ankle painfully, then slipped my boot off. He looked inside and grabbed the gun while I was rubbing my sore ankle.

"Oh, I see," he said, "Lightning Girl was gonna try and shoot me."

Then he pushed me back and I landed with a thud, my ankle still throbbing. "OW," I groaned.

Then he climbed back on top of me and tried undoing my pants, since he had already gotten my shirt off.

Oh, no, no, no, NO. I was NOT going to be raped. Not if I can help it.

He had thrown the gun half way across the room.

This guy, I soon realized, was way more aware and stronger than all of the other felons I've dealt with. The other ones clearly had no idea what they were doing.

But this guy did. And that's what scared the hell out of me.

He managed to unbuckle my belt.

That was as far as he got.

"Step away from her," came a deep masculine voice from behind me. I twisted me head to get a look at the guy. It was Rob.

Thank GOD. I was getting worried.

But he looked disheveled. Rob, I mean. His shirt was ripped, he was missing a shoe - as was I - and he just looked all around beat up. And he was holding a gun, pointing it at the rapist - whose name completely slipped my mind.

What had Rob GONE through?

A second later, Reynolds came in, looking frantic. "Boss, I-I can explain."

Reynolds then took that opportunity to get up, drag me with him, and point a gun at my head (where he got the gun, I'll never know). Meanwhile, I was topless and nearly bottomless - I still had a bra on, guys.

Rob cursed under his breath.

Then the rapist spoke up. "Drop the gun and I won't shoot the girl."

Rob looked at me, then back at him. Reynolds was still behind us, I could tell. Probably watching the whole thing.

Rob still didn't drop the gun. He kept looking at me, as if expecting an answer of some sort.

"Okay, fine," the rapist said. "I guess I'll just shoot her, if she means nothing to you."

But Rob stood there. He was looking at me, but not really. I think he might have been looking at Reynolds, but I'm not too sure.

Then the rapist pushed his gun harder in my skull. I heard his finger go to the trigger.

Then I heard a gunshot.

Disclaimer: All of the characters you recognize belong to Meg Cabot, the ultimate writer of our time. All of the other characters you don't recognize, and the plot, belong to me.