A/N (warning chapter towards end borders M rating nothing extremely explicit just be warned)
Hey everyone I decided to update a little hopefully this is enough to tide you guys over for a while. I'm working on more chapters so hopefully more will be on the way soon!
"That has got to be the biggest load of crap I have ever heard," Ingrid snapped, stepping out from behind the side of the building.
"Ingrid," Alexa cried out in surprise as she and Jack rose to their feet. Well in Jack's case stumbled.
"How much did you hear?"
"From the very start, you were whining like a pussy," She pointed to Jack. "And you were acting like a damn schoolgirl with a crush, hanging on his every word." She glared at Alexa; stupid girl she's gonna get us killed. "You can't believe a single word this ass says, for all we know, he could've just blown his own limbs off for the cause. This all could be a fucking trap that he and Philosophers came up with to get him inside. He wouldn't be the first army brat to cut off a foot for his dear old daddy."
Alexa exclaimed, "Jack isn't like that!"
Jack added, "Yea! I'm not like tha-"
"Shut up Jack!" Alexa and Ingrid snapped.
Ingrid turned her attention back to Alexa, her frustration rising. "How do you know? You only met him a month ago!"
"Well at least he tells me things! You on the other I know nothing about!" Alexa proclaimed.
"I don't need to explain anything to you. Besides," she shrugged, "I don't know anything about you."
Alexa gave her a narrowed look, "Seriously?! You know more about me than I do about you! I trust you with things," she wielded her hands into fists, "I would have thought the feeling would have been mutual!"
"Who are you Ingrid Bay?!" she shouted, "If that's even your real name!"
Ingrid hated this; hated that she was picking a fight with Alexa, hated that she was getting close to Jack, a person that was too close to home. This irritation only fused with her frustration and fueled her next scream with pure venom. "I wish I never picked you up off the road that day! You've been nothing but a pain in my ass from the moment I met you!"
Once she said this, her heart instantly sunk. Numbness takes over, allowing her go cold and unfeeling. She turned and walked away as Alexa screamed back, "I wish you left me in the snow!"
Ingrid felt nothing.
Grey, bleak, and desolate; houses lined next to each other in rows, each one story with two windows facing the front yard. Each house exactly the same; same length, width, color and pattern. Military jeeps were parked outside on each driveway; all shined to precision. The greyness of the houses seemed to dim the sky itself, the once bright blue was now a smoky and pale.
Ingrid walked through the town snarling at anyone who bumped into her. She didn't feel the chilly wind coming in, her own anger warming her body. She didn't know where she was going, only making a turn every now and then.
Kids, ageing from five to eighteen stood in clear cut lines, the younger kids dressed in brown shorts and white collar shirts. The elder wore black pressed pants and white pressed shirts. They all stood statue still, eyes never wavering from what was in front of them.
She jumped when a group of laughing children ran past her, towards the makeshift school the townsfolk had started. Kids chased one another in a game of freeze tag as others played with homemade toys or salvaged items.
Teens ran by, drenched in sweat as they formed two even lines. Younger children were not far behind, jogging together in perfect sync. While other children were lifting weights in the shade. Soon an adult blew a whistle and all the sweaty teens hustled back inside the windowless metal building.
Two teenagers seemed to be held on a higher standard than the others. A handsome boy of eighteen with neat combed back brown hair and ice blue eyes. A girl, two years his junior carried both traits as the boy. The two drilled all the students through their workouts, lead the way to the classrooms, and were the only two who were praised by their instructors and superiors.
The two were punching another student repeatedly in the stomach as he was strapped to a pull up bar pole. Three adults stood behind as the brunettes took turns pummeling the other boy. Their superiors made no move to stop them, till holding up a hand. The pair of brunettes stopped and stepped back, standing side by side waiting for further orders.
"You two are the top graduates of the Academy. You both excel in all areas of education. As well as defeating your top instructors in hand to hand combat."
Both responded in sync, "Thank you sir."
"The head commander has given the go with the special mission." This man that shared the same dark hair and cold blue eyes stared down at them. His look was a mix of pride and warning. "I personally put my neck on the line to get you two on this mission. Do not disappoint me."
"Of course Father," The boy simply stated
"We will not come home until this mission is fulfilled" Ingrid replied as both gave a salute before marching out the door.
Ingrid was raking her hands through her dyed red hair, feeling the need to yank at the strands, to feel at least a sting of pain. Her body was still numb, the cold not even registering as she walked through an empty part of town. Her breathing became erratic as her eyes clenched and unclenched.
The sun shined down on the bright colorful streets of San Juan; tourists of all kind littered the streets as the festival grew bigger and grander by the second. The nation's flag was pinned or hung on every available surface, the islands natives were celebrating in the streets; housings were over packed, bars packed all day and night.
The white sandy beaches were just as crowded; natives and tourists alike celebrated along the shore. One group made a giant circle where people danced to the beat of the drummers in the sand.
One young girl, no older than 11 seemed to be the center of the group, laughing and dancing as if the only thing keeping her on the ground was her thick head of curly black hair that fell just below her shoulders. Her dark skin had a light sheen of sweat though that didn't deter her joyfulness.
Night soon fell as lights in the City of San Juan faded as the town became silent. Many Puerto Rican flags hung everywhere. Bars were overflowing with occupants despite the late hour.
The last of the people on the beaches dispersed for the night, the young girl happily waving as everyone left. She smiled once more looking out at the city before skipping away through the sand into the city.
Ingrid stumbled her way to the back of the gym sliding down the damp wall onto the equally damp blacktop. She gripped her head tightly, her breathing coming out in short spurts while tears threatened to spill.
"Target is in sight," the brown haired teen boy spoke perched high on the roof tops, his ice blue eyes following the little girl as she was dutifully escorted by two large Puerto Rican officers. The two officers stood guard on the porch out front as the girl entered a large bright blue duplex.
"Obstacles?" The boy's partner spoke, clipping the last of her gear on. Both teens wore pure black attire of loose sweat pants and fitted long sleeve shirts.
"Just two kids playing secret agent," the boy scoffed and spat over the edge of the building. "In and out 5 minutes tops. The girl's inside in the top right room; no one suspects a thing." Now it was the boy who was clipping his gear on; a pair of hand guns, two large hunting knives with serrated edges, a silencer and two more magazines of ammunition. Once the boy had on his gear he turned back to his partner, who was now holding a small sliver case.
Blending in with the shadows, moving swiftly targeting their prey as these pair of dark haired siblings moved in perfect sync. Slicing their knives across the guards throats as their free hand covered the mouths of their victims.
The cold precision of skill, the thought of completing a mission, blocking out all emotion of her enemies faces . . . aka the old her.
Feelings of guilt surged through her. She took their lives so casually, so easily like a cold machine. A machine her father morphed her into. Feelings that became too much, slowly twisted into anger and frustration and wanting nothing more than to forget but couldn't.
Soon the two were standing on the back porch as the last of the guards fell to the ground. Dead, chilling silence filled the air, not even the crickets dared to make a sound. Blood poured from the heads of their freshly made kills. It dripped off the edge of the porch onto the cold concrete and trickled down into the grass.
The blue eyed teen wiped off a speck of blood from his cheek, then checked the watch on his wrist. "Three and a half minutes," he snickered to his sister, "A new record." His sister smirked as the two fist bumped before looking calmly at the upstairs light that remained lit through everything that had just happened.
"Jason," The girl turned to her brother, holding the silver case up.
"No Ingrid," Jason smirked pushing the case back to her. "You did all the research to get us here today. You should do the honors," he smiled, ruffling her hair. She smiled softly, enjoying these moments that she and her brother could act like a normal pair of siblings.
Ingrid carefully opened the case while her brother observed from over her shoulder. Inside was a knife, the length of the metal nearly matching the length of her hand while the width was as thick as her thumb. She squeezed the handle, weighing it as she flipped it in the air and tested the feel of the weapon in her hand.
It didn't seem that important and frankly she would rather have a gun. It looked like an ordinary hunting knife and it wasn't styled like a military sword like she would have prefered.
She also couldn't understand the reason behind this choice of weapon. She was sniper. Why not shoot their target? It would be easier and they wouldn't have to endanger themselves by getting too close, but they were soldiers: they didn't ask questions, they followed orders.
"Let's move," Jason gestured to the door, wielding a thin black Glock 17 with a silencer attached to the barrel.
Ingrid pulled her own gun from her holster and followed her brother in.
The lights were dimmed, creating shadows through the halls they used to cover their presence. They moved in perfect sync, slipping into their 'kill modes' as they would say. They became stealth itself, casting themselves into the corners and nooks of the corridors as their feet made soft pats against the old, worn out carpet. The Puerto Rican soldiers never saw them coming, ending their lives with headshots and split throats. The guards annoyed Ingrid, she couldn't believe that these incapable idiots were what counted as a Black OP operation. Her ten year old sister could take these poor bastards out.
Their target lived on the second floor in the third room on the right. The Lockheart siblings were met with no real challenge as they charged through the stairs and took out two more guards as they did.
"Is it just me," Jason cocked a sly grin as he opened the door to their target's room, "or does this seem too easy."
"It's just you," a commander stated as his men aimed their guns at the two teenagers.
"Shit!" Ingrid was able to curse before the bullets began to fly. She jerked Jason back and shoved him to the other side of the door.
"Fuck, I almost died," he said nonchalantly.
"You're welcome," she exclaimed.
They shared a quick nod as they sprinted down the hall both taking opposite paths. Ingrid ran with long strides and wasn't at all fazed when soldiers blocked her path. She disarmed them with ease, breaking bones and using her long legs for good use. She grabbed a rifle and slammed a knee into the side of a man's face as she gunned down two others. Using their bodies as shields when needed and discarding them when they were blasted to bits.
She kept one alive, asking for the target.
"I will never tell you," the man cursed as he coughed up blood.
Ingrid rolled her eyes as reinforcements came storming through the halls. She sighed and left the man, wheezing his last breaths. She swung a rifle over her back and hid behind a corner, taking aim at her fast approaching opponents. Like lambs to the slaughter, she thought as her weapon fired a crusade of bullets. She was trained to see and hear every detail, so her brother sneaking up on her was easily detectable.
"Having fun?" he smirked as bullets came soaring through the air as she reloads.
"No. Give me a hand, you ass," she hissed.
Jason yanked out a strap filled with hand held grenades, "aren't I a great brother?"
"Debatable," she remarked as she shot at the window and pulled out her grappling hook gun.
He yanked the hooks in one swipe and hurled it out into the hall. Ingrid wrapped an arm around his waist and slammed themselves against the cracked glass. As they fell, she shot the hook and it gripped the gutter.
She swung her weight aiming for a first floor window. Jason fired into the glass, allowing them an easy entrance as the grenades went off in a series of explosions.
They tumbled into a run as half of the building came crashing down. Finally, when the structure had settled the Lockhearts turned to each other, both gasping for breath.
"That was so awesome," Jason grinned.
Ingrid once again rolled her eyes, how her brother kept himself alive for this long was beyond her.
They moved through the remaining half of the building, searching for their target with desperate haste. They knew reinforcements were on their way and they needed to make a clean break before they arrived.
"I was able to get one of them to talk," Jason spoke in a harsh whisper. "They're keeping her in the last room down this hall."
Then she heard the fine sound of a rifle clicking the safety off. "Get back," she pulled him back, sliding his body between her's and the wall.
Gun shots rang through as he whistled, "that was close."
"Seriously, are you trying to get yourself killed," she hissed as she peeked around the corner. "Only two," her and Jason shared a mean grin as they pulled their Glocks out and finished them with two kill shots. Ingrid was the first to enter the room, kicking the door open and scanning the room with a ready gun.
She found no one.
She gritted her teeth in annoyance as Jason narrowed his eyes suspiciously towards the closet. He moved towards the door, taking one side as Ingrid took the other. On the count of three, Ingrid swung the door wide open and found a young girl curled into a ball with a phone in her hands.
"Anita . . . Anita! What's happening?!" the voice exclaimed.
Jason yanked the phone from her grasp and tossed it aside. He fisted his hand into her long black hair and hauled her out as she kicked and screamed.
Ingrid made it quick, not thinking twice as she pulled out her knife and stabbed Antia in the chest. Ingrid covered her mouth as she howled, silencing her with a firm grip.
She had seen dozens of people die but Anita was different.
Her dark eyes stared into Ingrid's blue, refusing to break contact as her body began to crack and split under her weight. Ingrid glanced to her chest, her brown skin was turning gray and crumbling to pieces leaving a large gaping hole in the middle of her chest where her heart should be. Ingrid gawked, wide eyed as Antia's skin continued to wash away into a sickly gray hue and fall apart into mere pebbles at a remarkable rate.
What truly horrified Ingrid was that even without a heart, the girl was alive.
She whimpered out prayers and curses as she literally broke apart. Her cries of agony were only silenced when her face turned to dust.
"What the fuck," Jason raked a hand through his hair as Ingrid merely blinked at Antia's corpse or to be more accurate her ashes.
Ingrid only stared, she was in complete and utter shock. Who did she just kill? What did she just kill? Her mind was a whirlwind; who was this girl? Why would her military put so much effort into protecting her? Why was she special? She wasn't even human . . . or was that the point? This secret mission for some girl was finally making a lick of sense. Was this girl some kind of experiment? Were the Philosophers creating some type of super soldier? Deciding to share this new weapon with Puerto Rico.
But this girl showed no skill as a soldier, Ingrid thought. She seemed to be just an average girl, she was an average girl. Ingrid blinked, focusing on the girl's crumbled, pebbled state. She was made of dirt but she was alive.
"For Puerto Rico!" a young man, a desperate man blocked the doorway, ready and alert with an automatic rifle.
Ingrid's thoughts were still spinning, her questions still taunting her as the man aimed his rifle. It wasn't till a gun shot bounced off the walls and the feel of Jason's weight on her did she refocus on her surroundings.
She snatched Jason's gun and fired, the man dropped as she flipped her brother over her shoulder and made her escape through the window. She leaped into a run weaving through the trees and ducking behind a slight hill, sliding between the crack of earth. She fell against the dirt, hiding along the tree roots that were sprouting beneath her.
Jason fell with her, collapsing against her chest and using the last bit of his strength to turn on to his back. He heaved; each gasp was weak and uneven as warm liquid soaked her clothes.
"You idiot!" she snapped in a whisper, "you're bleeding, let me see."
She wasn't angry at him, she was angry at herself. For losing herself in her thoughts, for forgetting where she was, where they were. She left them open. Why did he block her? Why didn't he just shoot the soldier? Why? Why? Why?!
Enough, she mentally screamed at self. Focus on the task at hand! Don't muddle over stupid questions! Save your brother!
She bent him forward, peeling off his vest and shirt. The bullet had wedged into his lower back, making a clean hit along his spine.
She slid a finger over the wound, pressing against it but a part of her thought to test it. She dug her finger into the gash. Jason made no sound of protest.
She froze.
"Ingrid. . ." his voice was small and tired. "Get out of here . . . get to the safe house . . . I'll distract them."
"I'm not leaving you!" she exclaimed through clenched teeth. "We're going home-together-you and me-"
"I can't feel my legs Grid!" he silenced her, using his childhood nickname for her. "I'll only drag you down. . ."
"Jase," her voice fell, portraying how young she truly was.
"Go . . . tell them the mission was a success," in his hand was the blade. He thrusts the handle into her hands, gripping her with tight fingers as he gave a crooked smile. "I'm proud of you Grid."
She shook her head, refusing to listen. "Don't talk like that!" She grabbed his arm, "We're both going home. I'll carry you if I have to!"
He shoved her off, "This is not up for discussion," he shook her by her shoulders, "please Gridy . . . just go. . ."
Men shouting ringed in the distance and Jason cursed under his breath as he gave one last push. "Get to the safe house, I'll hold them off."
"How-"
He pulled out a grenade from his calf pocket and he grinned, "aren't I a great brother."
"But-"
He bit off the hook and gave her a daring glance, "go."
Ingrid's survival instincts kicked in. She scrambled to her feet and sprinted, using this newfound adrenaline to pump through her veins. Every step she took gave way for a growing urge to turn back, to talk Jason out of his suicide pact, to carry him home. She swayed; her body twirling around, about to make mad dash for him but the explosion resounded.
Her feet tripped under the shaking earth. Quickly, she covered her head with her arms as she collapsed against the dirt. Rocks dug into her elbows and knees but the pain was nothing. She looked up, smoke was clouding the sky and the cries of men ringed in her muffled ears. Ingrid's jaw dropped, a silent cry escaping from her lips.
Ingrid screamed; allowing the feeling of loss and grief to take hold. She didn't want to be numb like she was taught. She wanted to feel, wanted to prove that she was more than just a soldier; more than just a weapon her father had created. She hurled her fists at a nearby tree, slamming her punches into the trunk. The bark cuts into her skin as warm blood slipped from her knuckles and fingers. That should have proven that she was human, that she could feel but her father's voice found her.
"Ingrid is the perfect soldier, such a cold heart of her's will come in handy."
She cried out in rage as she punched harder, breaking away the bark. Her mother's sobs echoed through.
"How could she leave Jason? How could she leave her own brother?! What kind of monster have I raised?!"
She reached the smooth wood underneath, her blood splattering over the surface with each swing. Her commanding officer proclaimed sternly:
"You shall lead us to victory Ingrid, you will lead the charge. You will be our Valkyrie."
She was so consumed by her anger and grief that she didn't notice a figure coming up from behind. This figure circled their arms around her waist and dragged her away from the tree.
She kicked and howled but the voice was familiar.
"Ingrid! Ingrid, stop! It's me!"
She blinked, her arms dropped as her shoulders slumped. She inhaled calmly, "Connor . . . what are you doing here?"
He hesitated at first but he released her, "you're outside the medical center." He gestured to the building behind him, "I heard you shouting." His eyes grew soft with gentle concern, "are you okay?"
"I was punching a tree and screaming like a maniac. I believe the answer is no," it was meant to be a joke but her voice came out harsh and distant.
Connor either didn't notice her tone or ignored it, "you're bleeding," he reached for her hands and she snatched them away from his grip.
"I'm fine," she hissed and was about to walk away till Connor grabbed her wrist.
"You are not fine," he proclaimed sternly, "we need to see to your wounds before they get infected."
Ingrid cursed but she allowed him to lead her inside the center. It was a quiet night, not many patients or nurses were around thanks to their dedicated, hard working doctor. It was mostly thanks to Connor that the building wasn't so full. Some patients still lingered, Jack was among that number and like Jack they were alone and didn't have a home to return to.
Herself included.
The Good Doctor, the nickname that she had casually thrown around with Connor, brought her into his office. He practically lived in the center, the state of his office was more than enough proof. His desk was cluttered with paper and discarded food trays, spare clothes hanged in the coat closet while the sink held a razor and toothbrush. The cabinets not only held medical supplies, but books and journals. Then, at the far wall was a twin bed with simple white sheets and a homemade quilt.
"Well, this is homely," she said sarcastically. "Don't you go home at all?"
He sighed, "there wasn't much of a point, I was always needed here." He shrugged, "besides, I don't even want to go home. It reminds me too much about Scottie."
Ingrid chewed on her inner cheek, he was talking about his younger brother. The one taken by the Philosophers and dragged into a war that was tearing this country apart. A war she had ran from with her entire being, but this war was something her family had started. The Lockhearts we're big believers in a united world order.
Her gut instantly twisted in disgust as the image of her brother dying for their cause took hold in her mind. "I'm sorry," the words came out before she could even register them.
Connor gave her a sad half smile, "it's not your fault Ingrid."
If only you knew.
The doctor gestured her to sit as he jerked a lamp light over her hands and placed a bowl beneath them. He grabbed towels, a bottle of peroxide and pair of tweezers, "This will take awhile."
Ingrid sat in silence, watching as he placed all of his time and energy into pulling out each and every splinter. His long locks of blond hair was spilling out of his ponytail, the band losing grip as he hunched over her split knuckles and bruised fingers. His hands were calloused but warm as he patted her with peroxide soaked towels and dug into her damaged flesh with sharp pointed tweezers.
She flinched when she felt a sensitive sting shiver up her arms.
He stopped and looked up, his creamy brown eyes glinted with worry. "I'm sorry, are you okay."
"Yeah," she smiled reassuringly but proud of the fact that she did feel pain. "Don't worry, I'm sure the Good Doctor would never hurt his patients on purpose," she gave a playful wink.
He gave a shy smile before turning away to clean the tweezers but even in the evening light Ingrid could see his ears taking a pinkish hue.
He liked her.
She knew that.
Every time she entered into his line of sight, his eyes instantly followed her. Most times she pretended not to notice but just for the hell of it, she would look him dead in the eye and he would flush in embarrassment. That didn't stop him from leaving her a cup a coffee every day with just the right amount of sugar or bringing her a cat toy that he happened to stumble upon during his walks. When she volunteered at the center, he would find subtle ways to be close to her; every time she handed him clipboards and scalpels, his fingers would linger for a second or two longer than they should. And if the halls were ever crowded he would guide her through as a hand rested on the small of her back.
He even went as far as to become her volunteer sparring partner during her self defense classes. He was the closest demonstration of a soldier her students were ever going to get. He was tall but on the lanky side, making it too easy to flip him over her shoulder and deadlocking him with his arm twisted painfully behind his back.
Ingrid thought it would be a good way to let him down easy. Show him that this curvy beauty was far more than just a pretty face but the fights seemed to only increase his infatuation. He volunteered more and even joined the class if he ever had a break from the clinic.
Connor released a long, tired breath causing Ingrid to break away from her thoughts. "There," he place the tweezers onto the desk and smeared the damp towel over her knuckles, wiping away the excess blood. "I think I got all of them out," he smiled and began to wrap her hands in clean white bandages. He was skilled enough to wrap each finger and give her complete movement of each digit.
Once he was done, Ingrid caressed her fingers over her knuckles. She was almost giddy to find them sore and twitching. She smirked, see I can feel.
Her smile must of intrigued the Good Doctor for he asked, "was there a particular reason why you were punching a tree?"
Ingrid dropped her hands into her lap as her eyes shifted away from Connor's gaze, "I just needed to prove that I could feel pain. Stupid I know-"
"No," he stated, "it's not stupid."
She turned back to him to find winkles folding into his forehead, he seemed to be so much older than twenty-eight at that moment. "Sometimes you need to prove, not only to others but to yourself that you can still feel. That you're not as cold as you think you are."
"Are you cold Doctor?" Ingrid asked in all seriousness.
"I was, till I met you."
She couldn't deny that Connor's longing gaze and heartfelt confession struck a chord within her. That her thighs subconsciously rubbed together as her toes and fingers curled curiously at the thought of him naked. Yet, was it Connor that she wanted or was it the simple, raw need of human contact that she craved. Maybe it was the burning frustration of Alexa and Jack or the numbness threatening to take hold of her again.
Whatever the reason, she couldn't lie about the fact that she wanted his warmth.
She climbed into his lap, taking advantage of his shocked state to sip her fingers into his loose ponytail and tug out the band. She roamed her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp with her tips. He relaxed, shivering under her touch as she trailed her fingers along his jaw and neck. She leaned forward, planting a deep, open mouth kiss on his lips.
He reacted immediately, kissing her back with the same intensity and need. Their tongues lapping, dancing and exploring this new terrain, lavishing in the sensual sensations of each other's lips.
But a chair would simply not due.
Ingrid pulled away, sliding off his lap as she stride for the bed dropping herself onto the mattress. She kicked off her shoes and grinned mischievously, "now don't make a girl wait."
Connor rose, peeling off his coat and shoes as he made his way to the bed, to her. He cupped her face in her hands kissed once more, "are you sure?" he asked between kisses.
"If I wasn't, I would've broken your arm," she smirked and yanked apart his shirt, the buttons flying and scattering along the tile floor.
"This is my good dress shirt," he laughed, not really complaining.
"You can ask Jack to sew in the buttons, that lazy ass needs more work."
They discarded their clothes swiftly, craving the touch of bare skin and wet lips. Connor was gentle in every sense of the word; caressing Ingrid with long smooth strokes along her midsection and thighs. His kisses found her throat, her shoulders, her chest and breast even sinking so low as to tease her naval.
Ingrid was rough, preferring to mark him with pulsing hickles that were sure to bruise the next day. Along with scratches on his back and forearms, reminding him of her. He didn't seem to mind, his breath hitching with every playful bite and lick. She rocked against him, silently begging him to continue the foreplay where it was absolutely needed.
He removed their last articles of clothing as his hand found her sex. She gasped, her eyes widening as she jerked forward, writhing at the skill of his fingers. Ingrid clawed her nails into his shoulders, moaning for sweet release as Connor's own need grinds against her thigh.
He glanced to her, seeking permission and she nodded. He thrusts, she winced but the pain soon dulled as pleasure consumed her.
The next morning, Ingrid found herself in bed, tangled in Connor's arms. She was confused for moment till her mind whirled her back to Alexa and their fight, the memories of Jason's death, punching a tree till her hands bled and Connor finding her. Which lead to Connor patching her up and the two of them sleeping together.
She groaned, what was she thinking? Allowing her emotions to take control like that and with Connor of all people.
She slipped out from under his grasp, tip-toeing as she searched for her clothes that had been scattered along the floor the night before. Once she had her pants and shirt on, she grabbed her shoes and made her way for the door.
"Leaving so soon?"
Ingrid cursed under her breath and turned to face Connor, who had propped himself on to his elbow. He gave a rested grin, realizing that it must of been the first time in weeks that he had been able to get any sleep.
"I was just trying to beat the morning rush at the dining hall," she said lamely.
"Hold on, I'll join you-"
"No, that's okay," she remarked, "I'll just meet you there."
She was about to reach for the door till Connor grabbed her hand, "wait Ingrid please. If you think this was just some one time thing you're wrong . . . I'm not that kind of guy." He turned her around, coddling her face in his hands, "I . . . I like you Ingrid and I wish for us to-"
"To what? Date?" Ingrid shook her head in disbelief. She knew she had overstayed her welcome. She had to keep moving, she couldn't afford to stay in one place for too long not until she destroyed the blade. "If you haven't notice Connor, there is a civil war raging outside. We don't have time for silly things like that. Tonight was . . . needed for the both of us. I was able to forget because of you . . . but it's not a luxury I can have for long."
She spun back for the door, finding the room suffocating, needing air.
Connor protested, not letting go of her hand, "but Ingrid-"
"Dammit Connor, can't you see I'm done with you!" she exclaimed with pure venom. He was stunned as he stepped back and his face fell, revealing his hurt.
Ingrid took that chance to toss his hand away and slam the door behind her.
The next morning was a beautiful one, the sun was out and warm, everyone around the town was the happiest I had ever seen them. Jack was still asleep, the lazy ass didnt like to wake up till the sun was almost gone.
I have to be honest I'm still mad at Ingrid, what gave her the right to talk about Jack like that?
Why was she always so condescending to everyone?
Why couldn't she trust anyone?
I highly doubt that these questions will ever be answered. I guess I should be used to people keeping secrets from me by now. After getting dressed and changing my bindings, I walked towards the dining hall across the old football field. I waved to the passing people, either leaving or going to have breakfast. I was dressed in simple cargo shorts and a blue and green striped polo. I left Alfred's old jacket back in bed, the weather now to warm to wear it.
Finally at the dining hall I grabbed a salvaged school lunch tray and picked up some oatmeal and a small bowl of canned peaches. As I turned to go sit at a table I caught sight of Ingrid's piercing blue eyes from across the room. Her tousled hair was a sign that she had probably just woken up, though for once, she seemed almost human, her eyes held a look of sadness and regret. She took a step forward, towards my direction-
BOOM!
Everyone in the dining hall was thrown in various directions, the windows shattered as sparkling shards flew through the air like razor sharp fairy dust. My vision rocked like I was at sea and the only thing I heard was the loud screech ringing in my head. Stumbling to a semi standing position I managed to catch a glimpse out a-what used to be a window. All of a sudden the ringing in my head stopped, my vision focused, in fact I didn't think I felt anything, I only had one thing on my mind as I saw the hospital area spewing smoke and bright red and orange flames.
Jack!