The world was fizzling in and out of my eyes.

It's either you or me, sweetheart.

I had no idea where I was - I'd stumbled out of the warehouse some time ago and I had a feeling I was hopelessly lost, but even that I wasn't quite sure, because something was wrong with my head, it didn't seem to be working right - 

Apple pie?

 - and there were these lights and at first I thought they were streetlights but today they seemed unusually glaring and bright, and each little ray that entered my eye seemed to trigger a spike that slammed into the back of my skull - 

You look so pale. Seen a ghost?

 - plus whenever I took a step it seemed to thump like an elephant's stomp on the hard, tar surface of the roads, but look the streetlights were gone now, where had they gone too? replaced by muted soft glows . . . what were those, house windows? Was I in a neighborhood? My neighborhood? Since when did my apartment block become so short? It's only two storeys tall . . . and why were there so many of them and are those garden gnomes - 

Please, call me Thomas.

- there's an eye in my vision, no wait two, two eyes, two eyes looking at me, no wait, now it was a face, and don't I know this person? the mouth was speaking, talking but I can't hear - those eyes, so nice, so blue - 

Because the lady has one. She has a witness that will testify that you committed unjust conduct against her, and that witness - is me.

 - and the world was melting now, like a dark chocolate flavored ice cream, all darkness, like a black hole collapsing into itself, no light, like the magician's cloth being pulled away to reveal the bunny popping out of the hat beneath - 

So. Nice tattoo.

 - and I felt the strength being sapped straight out of my very bones, my head pounding, my eyes hurting; two strong arms lifting me up as I suddenly, magically became weightless, two strong arms carrying me away, away from where? as the night folded in, encapsulating everything, encapsulating me, until all that remained - 

Were those two mesmerizing, beautiful electric blue eyes.

*

I woke up in a soft, lush bed.

The headache in my head had subsided to a distant throb, and when I reached a hand up to touch it my fingers brushed against cotton. A bandage. 

Where is this?

It was a bedroom of some sort, the curtains drawn and the lights dimmed. It looked somewhat luxurious. Next to me was a Moroccan chest-of-drawers that doubled as a bedside table, with a lime green apple lamp.

I kid you not.

There was a hiss of pain from somewhere nearby and I froze, going rigid. Did Jasper get me? Was that him? By Merlin's baggy Y-fronts, was I in his room? 

I hurriedly checked to see if my clothes were all still on.

No one knew what that man was capable of.

There was another grimace, a sound that floated out from some corner. Cautiously I got out of bed, my footsteps making no noise as they touched the hardwood floor. Taking a few steps forward I soon found myself looking past an opened door, and into a bathroom.

For a moment I just stood and stare.

The last time I did that was in impressed awe at his chocolate abs, but now the only reason I was doing it was out of shock, that slowly morphed into something resembling anger.

"Are you kidding me?" I whispered, struggling to keep my emotions in check.

Kaylan turned. He had been in the middle of treating his wound - the wound I gave - and the hisses of pain I had heard was due to him applying ointment on the X-shaped cut. His thumb I noticed had been properly bandaged.

"You're awake" was all he said, his voice neutral and expressionless.

For long seconds I merely fixated him with a burning glare. His eyes were fearless as they looked back at mine - calm blue irises meeting my no doubt blazing brown pupils. There was that crackling tension again, sparking up the dozen of molecules in the air, like oxygen feeding a flame.

This boy was triggering . . . things in me. 

Things I had once had, before they were lost.

At first I thought it was just physical attraction - because who on earth would not be attracted to that physique and that face - but when he started doing things for me; helping me with Donovan, tying up my hair, getting my necklace . . . and the way he did those things, as if they were just matter-of-fact, as if they were plain logic, and that it didn't matter what anyone else thought . . . even when I had that sneaking suspicion it was all for Brandy, it didn't help - the strings of my heart were still tugged.

But it was good that they were tugged. Because now I knew where I was being led to, where my heart was being moved, and hence it was easier for me to cut it off while I could.

I can't have another Thomas.

I can't.

Not another one.

In the end it was me who broke the staring match first. My hands went up to the bandage, and though at first they worked slowly, attempting to unravel the cloth with logic and precision, in the end the other part of me worn over and I was all but tearing at it, fingers scrabbling and scratching wildly, the only thought in my head was that I had to get it off, this bandage, this thing, this help that I had received from the boy I had hurt - I didn't need it, I didn't need to feel more guilty, more indebted, I didn't need more him - 

"Stop it. Hayley! Stop it - apple pie - "

"Don't call me that!" I screamed. 

I had lost it.

I had.

There were these furious tears that I had to keep from falling and that was that odd tingle in my nose. 

"Is this a habit of yours? To help people who tried to torture you?" I let out a laugh of scorn. "Wow! I never knew you had such a compassionate side. What do you do when you're not too busy acting the bad boy? Huh? Do you help out at the local pet store? Adopt orphans in your free time? Donate your weekly allowance to charity?"

He said nothing, and there was that gaze, that intensity, in the way he was looking at me, and I couldn't stand it; I snapped.

"Don't look at me like that! Don't call me nicknames, don't help me, don't do anything for me!" My voice was raised and even to my own ears I sounded like a madwoman. Fists clenched, I calmed down just enough to spit out, "I know it was for Brandy. Acting nice, pretending you like me - it was all for Brandy. I know."

In his eyes, there was that flicker of being caught and then - guilt. 

And it just made me feel worse. Guilt? He felt guilt for what he did to me?

Then what was I supposed to feel?

He took a step forward. "Hayley - "

"Stop." My voice shook. The tears I had fought to resist had their way anyway, and fell. "Don't come close to me. You shouldn't be doing this. You shouldn't be doing this. You shouldn't be helping and comforting the person who had just cut your face - you shouldn't be doing this!"

"You had no choice - "

"And how did you know that?" I challenged, defiant. "How did you know I had no choice? How did you know I didn't willingly take up that blade and slice it across your cheek, all the while laughing in glee? How do you know?"

His voice was quiet. "Well did you?"

I looked back at him. "Yes. Yes I did."

His volume never changed. "Liar."

With three strides he had crossed the bedroom and was standing in front of me. I refused to meet his eyes.

"Getting my dad's particulars . . . that wasn't a dare, wasn't it?"

I didn't answer. He went on.

"You and my parents are mixed up in something." It wasn't a question, but a statement. "And both of you won't tell. You know, he just left us here." A bitter laugh. It took me awhile to figure out that he was talking about his father. "The men who rescued us brought us back and pretended I didn't exist. They just kept talking to my father. And then he had to leave with them but mum panicked, so they held her down while someone inject her with a tranquilizer. She fell into a dead sleep, and dad didn't even look back. I had to bandage my own thumb."

There was this acid tang to his words.

"And you know the funny thing is the way he spoke to me. Told me to get an early sleep. Said I still had school tomorrow. Like he was expecting me to just go back to how I was, pretending nothing ever happened. That tonight didn't happen. What did he take me for - an idiot? Even before this there were signs - late-night visits and secret phone calls. The fact that I didn't ask didn't mean I didn't know."

He let out a scoff that abruptly turned into a wince. I realized he hadn't finish treating his cut yet.

Suddenly, I felt so timid and small. Suddenly, I felt like I didn't care anymore, not about Blackcroft, not about finding the will, not about proving myself to be better than the boys.

". . . Can I help?"

His eyes found mine.

"Your wound," I clarified. 

The one I gave.

His words were cutting, blunt. "Why would I let you do it? Wouldn't you make it worse?"

They stung, and I actually reeled a little. My eyes fell as I looked away, unconsciously taking a step backwards.

Something in his expression seemed to soften.

"See. I knew it was a lie. You didn't do it by choice," he said, voice soft.

This boy.

I was careful as I applied the ointment on his wound - my work. Once in awhile he would flinch and I would stop, before resuming. I focused on dabbing the cotton, gentle, but it didn't help that he just kept looking at me. It was as if he was trying to memorize my face, it was that intense. 

Keeping my eyes on his cheek I said, curt, "Would you stop looking at me? It's distracting."

His lips twitched but he obediently looked away. "I'm glad you find me distracting."

Seconds of silence.

"Being part of this - business," he suddenly asked. "By choice or by force?"

I didn't need to ask to know what he meant by business.

I thought.

I had been born in it, true, but I had gone into it willingly, knowing full well what we did. Perhaps I could claim innocence in some way; that I had only used guns and fought in training, never in real life, and that this mission was the first time I had used those skills against humans and not dummy dolls, but still I had used them.

I swallowed. "By choice."

He didn't respond to that. Instead he merely nodded, and said, "Your turn."

My turn?

"So are you and Brandy officially dating now?"

Stupid stupid stupid stupid question how can you ask that in such a serious situation what are you thinking - 

His lips twitched again. "No."

Huh.

He went on. "Your marriage. By choice or by force?"

". . . By force."

"Hm."

Hm? I sent him a look of annoyance. Would it kill him to let me in a little on what he's thinking?

Before my brain could even step in my mouth had went first.

"Do you like Brandy a lot?"

Dear Lord, why don't you just shoot me in the mouth now and get this over with . . . I might as well be down on my knees confessing to him that I like him.

You like him? said the little voice in my head.

Before I could answer that Kaylan said, loud, "Pass."

Indignant, I began to protest. "You can't pass, that's not fair - 

"I can tell you one thing though," he cut in. 

Turning around he looked at me, and this time there was more than just raw intensity in his eyes.

"I think I'm starting to like you, for real," he said, "and this time it's by choice."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hello my lovelies and I'm back :) sorry for the false advertisement, no Damian here yet . . . sighhhhh ~

This one's for LovelyBlue_1995! I didn't forget your support *winks*