Spiral
Chapter II: Intruder
By EclipseKlutz

PG-13, T... I'm confused!
Pending, still... not sure what to do with it yet... Still too lazy to fetch the notebook.

Disclaimer: Unless you want an empty root beer bottle, don't bother with a lawsuit-my saliva isn't worth it. Anyways, I don't own Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, or The Incredibles... Don't even have enough money to buy the DVD. Gotta love parents, huh?

"...Hands on the mirror, can't get much clearer
Can't make this all go away..."
-Nickelback: Because of You

The couch was lumpy, uncomfortable, but he set up fort there anyways, having come to the conclusion that if/when the young woman in the next room awoke, he'd hear. The following conversation might be a bit... awkward, but it was the least of his problems at the moment; the worst was the breaking news on CNN.

"...Convict, now identified as Buddy Pine, the man behind the murders of several Supers in hiding, escaped from Wade's High Security Ward for the Criminally Insane last night around nine PM, and currently is believed to be within the Los Angeles area. Pine, although unarmed, should be regarded as highly dangerous, if you see him please call the number at the bottom of the screen," The anchorwoman, Michelle, announced, her voice calm and silky. She knew more about his escape then she was releasing to the public, that much was obvious just by looking at her.

He scowled, readjusting his position on the loveseat and flipping through the channels. News... more news... his face plastered to a wanted poster... something about some guy being moved to the death row tomorrow... Bugs Bunny giving Daffy the slip again... Settling for old cartoons, he closed his eyes, not about to fall asleep, yet unable to prop them open any longer.

-z-

He pulled up beside her house, the dark turquoise Explorer glinting in the light cast by the streetlamp. "'Mon, Vi...I wanna get goin'."

His words were slurred, a sign of trouble she recognized only too well. He'd been drinking again, but maybe he wouldn't hurt her tonight, maybe he'd changed. As she stood in front of the mirror, fumbling to pull her very disobedient hair into a pony-tail, the little nagging voice in the back of her head was screaming at her not to go, not again-if she did, she might not live to see tomorrow.

She drowned it out; Sure, everything he'd done was wrong, but he loved her... right? And she loved him. Of course he loved her too. He had too...

"'Mon, Vi!" His voice was loud, impatient. "I wanna go now-id'll be fun..."

He wasn't pronouncing his words right. That wasn't good; he'd definitely been drinking more than just a little. What if she said no? Made up some excuse about being busy? Would he leave? Would he stay? Would he hurt her? The little voice was back, pleading with her to hide, to call the cops, to tell them everything he'd done. The voice she listened to normally continued to fight back—arguing that he could have changed, just like he'd promised.

Violet rolled onto her side, her arm colliding with something hard. She groaned, not about to try and open her eyes... Where was she now? Vaguely, she recalled wandering through the streets of L.A., a mental mess and physical disaster. Maybe she made it home, collapsed in bed... wet... was it raining? She slowly moved a delicate hand up, grasping the towel by her shoulders... her clothes were soggy... her hair was damp... It must have rained; but wouldn't she remember?

Slowly, hesitantly, she pulled herself into something that almost resembled a sitting position and looked around. She was definitely home... and she'd apparently attacked the alarm clock upon awakening. That didn't explain the slight problem she had with being water clogged though.

"Eh," she mumbled, rolling from the bed. She hit the ground with a loud "thump", and allowed another moan to pass through her throat. She was not having the best night of her life. She grabbed for the comforter on her bed, grasped the light blanket instead-the difference didn't matter, it was a start. Shakily, she climbed to her feet, not releasing the bedspread until she was sure her balance was in tact.

'Ramen sounds nice,' She resolved after a moment; assuming she didn't burn the house down trying to make it, she could make some attempt to revive the facts of just why she was wet while gulping down something steaming and easy enough to digest.

With this, she stumbled out of the room, into the family room, and found herself face to face with... someone. The intruder bore a frown on his face upon seeing her and motioned quickly to the couch. She couldn't quite make out his words, he was murmuring...She did not have time for this. Without pause, she made a move to shove past him, and he grabbed her shoulders as she did so. He wasn't rough, but not exactly gentle either, as he pointed to the couch, repeating his previous order: "Sit."

She didn't budge; if he wanted a fight, she'd win; she was pissed-and groggy-enough to at this point. "Who're you?"

His frown deepened, as though he'd expected her to recognize him. He shook off the expression quickly, however, and motioned back to the loveseat, "Sit."

"Can you say anything else?" She demanded testily. "Get out."

A sigh issued from his lips and he stepped towards her, leaving only an inch or so for the gap separating them. "Motrin? Advil? Preferences?"

"Huh?"

"I imagine you're in some pain," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

This took her by surprise, "Why do you care?"

"I've got reasons," He responded, his voice suddenly shadowed over with flickers of an emotion she couldn't place. Interesting. "Motrin or Advil?"

"You expecting me to trust you?" Her voice was hollow, vacant-not how she'd originally intended for it to sound.

He shook his head, orange hair falling over his eyes... déjà vu struck her, then fleeted, leaving her standing before him befuddled and surprised. After a moment, he answered with actual words: "No. I don't want you to."

"Then why are you trying to help me?"

"Because... I need to redeem myself."

"What for?"

"Earlier... issues."

With that, he turned on his heel and would say no more.

A/N: Alright, wrote this during the American Idol commercials, so I apologize for crappiness. I can't spell to save my life, by the way... can't wait 'till I get home, spell check. Anyways, I've been pondering it (kind of) and I've decided that maybe I could take this down, fix the spelling errors, and post this version, along with the notebook version, on my website. Then I'll rewrite it, make it longer and easier to read and more compatible with my ideas, and post that one. This okay with you guys? Also, figure it's best to ask: What do you want to happen? I'm just curious, not saying it'll happen, just... eh, I'm repeating myself.

Valude: Yeah, sorry 'bout the spelling errors as previously stated, couldn't spell if my life depended on it. Don't think I've strayed much... have I strayed? Kinda figured that a near-death experience (sp?), and then being trapped in a mental institution and a hospital for a bit would leave him a little bit less cocky, and possibly softer. But that could just be me... Thanks a ton for reviewing! Oh, and went to your page-and I completely agree with your opinions of Jareth. He rules.

Xalias: Damn; you're cool. Stop being hard on yourself; I'll give you a box of... um, lemons for it. Thanks for the recommendations, and honestly, I have no clue what that li'l box is for either. Prol'ly to waste space or somethin'... And thanks a ton for all the compliments, and the attention! Oo... and for reviewing both chapters and... um, everything else. I really appreciate it, and it's definite encouragement. Insane is good. Enthusiasm is good, too. Cookies are good too... but that's a bit off topic.

R.K.R.: Thanks a ton. Hope you like the updates... I don't... but oh, well...

Melady101: Oh, wow, thanks! And I beg 'cause... well, I beg. It seems effective enough. - Hope this update was quick enough, and yup-Violet it is. And suspense? Suspense is good. Very good. Again, thanks!

Alrighties, blue button says review. Listen to it.