The Sergeant kneeled in front of his VCR and shoved a tape inside, while I sprawled out drunkely on his sofa, watching the ceiling spin round and round.

His apartment was great, it wasn't classy like Cap's, but it was just as big. The walls were painted black and decorated with spray paint, records and posters. There were cans of something called 'Bud Light' scattered everywhere, a few discarded clothing items, and a whole lot of cigarette butts. It smelled like him, too, and the whole apartment screamed his personality.

"We... are watching a movie, but we're not watching an soft shit," he explained as he approached the couch. He sat down right beside my head so I dragged my upper body into his lap, smiling up at him when he began to play with my hair. I glanced at the screen but the picture seemed blurry to me, and made me feel nauseous. "What... what is this?" He was drinking some colorful liquid, called 'Gatorade'.

"A little movie from the '70s called... 'Alien.'" I ran my fingers over the fabric of his jeans, feeling the first of the drowsiness coming on. "Is it... is it good?" "It is, Calliope. It is."

I don't remember much else. I remember drifting off, and then waking up again when something particularly loud happened in the movie, and then drifting off again. "You... are amazing, Calliope..." I thought I heard him whisper to me before I was falling asleep for good, petting my hair slowly. I was sure it must've been the alcohol talking.

****

World War III was going on inside of my head.

There were tiny soldiers with their tiny sharp knives, stabbing at the sides of my skull, stabbing each other, slamming each other into my brain. They woke me with an excruciating pain between my temples, causing me to cringe when I opened my eyes.

Light was flooding into the room through my open window, curtains fluttering in the wind. Despite the pain I rushed to it, slamming the glass pane shut and drawing the curtains tightly. The sudden movement made my churning stomach lurch, and I was on my knees in front of the toilet before I could think.

Last night's 'fun' came pouring out of me with a burning vengeance, and it didn't taste as sweet and fruity the second time. I tried to think on it inbetween retches, but my memory was blurred and jumbled. I remembered certain things so clearly, the Sergeant's cold tongue in my mouth, his gravelly whispering in my ear, and others not so much. It took me a while to even remember that we made up.

I vomitted until there was nothing left before I weakly stood, walking over to the sink to brush my teeth. I was sure I'd never drink alcohol again as I squeezed a whole lot of mint toothpaste onto my brush, and began scrubbing my teeth and tongue wildly.

There was something black written on my hands, I left the brush in my mouth and held them in front of my face. On one hand-

Calliope- You fell asleep, I took you home.

And on the other-

(202)-749-2693

I sighed, putting more paste on the brush. I stood there for ten minutes, cringing in pain when the throbbing became too much. I swear I must've gulped down a bottle of Listerine or something, because I didn't stop until I felt clean.

I stripped off my alcohol-soaked clothing and went to the shower, stepping into the hot stream of water and sighing with relief. I turned the steam knob and hot air blasted out of vents in the floor of the shower, engulfing me in warmth. I spent a while in there, just curled up in the bottom with a bar of soap until the last of the nausea was gone.

I left the shower and dressed myself in a bluish blouse and black corduroys, knowing that Cap would be back that day. Cap, who wouldn't even let me have more than one glass of campagne. I knew I couldn't act strange in front of him, he'd poke and prod me until I told him the truth.

I ran a brush through my curls- in other words, the brush got stuck several times, so I ripped it through several times- and twisted my hair back, before going to the kitchen and gulping down three tall glasses of water straight. The clock read that it was already past five o'clock, which I really couldn't believe. I swallowed two aspirin pills before leaning against the counter with another glass in hand, nibbling my lip and just thinking.

The night before was amazing. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before, and even though it left me in cripping pain the morning after I felt... normal. Just slightly more like the other girls walking down the D.C streets. I went to a bar with a guy, I ate with a guy. I was normal.

The pain began to ebb and I was feeling like myself again, smiling at the memories of the things he said and did. I let my fingers graze my waist, remembering what it felt like for his hand to be there. I took another sip of water and laughed, opening the refrigerator to find something to eat.

I nearly spilled my drink when I heard the elevator doors part, accompanied by the sound of shoes on the marble flooring.

"Callie, dear. I'm glad your up." Cap's accent sounded even stranger to me since he'd been away so long, and I'd been hearing Jon's Jersey accent and the Sergeant's slighly Midwestern one. I turned to look at him, forcing a brief smile. "Yeah, I'm up."

"I went to get you up this morning for work, but you... you were fast asleep, I didn't want... to wake you." I could tell from the get-go that something was off about Cap that day. He stood on the opposite side of the kitchen, setting his briefcase down on the counter. He was gazing at me, something he usually didn't do. He was also hovering, which was also out of character. His eyes were bright and so was his body language, even after a day of work.

"We need to talk, if you're not busy right now." My hands clenched the refrigerator's handle as I gently shut the doors, with a final blast of cold air as they settled. "Oh, uh... I guess I'm not, is... something wrong?" I nearly spilled the water again when I set it down, glancing up at him nervously. He did something he never did in front of me, which was open his suit jacket and undo the top few buttons of his dress shirt.

"No, nothing's wrong, sweet." He opened his briefcase and produced two large bottles of wine, as well as two deep glasses. Holding them in his arms, he nodded toward the sofa in the sitting room. "Come." I took one last gulp of water before I went, I was anxious and my mouth was drier than sandpaper.

He set the bottles and glasses on the coffee table and sat, patting the couch cushion right beside him. I took a seat tentatively, my back was painfully straight, my hands were folded. "Relax a little, Callie." He laughed, running his fingers through his slicked blonde hair. He messed it a little, which I thought he hated to do.

"You've gotten him emotionally invested." I nearly fainted right then and there. I'd been wearing my microphone when he kissed me that first time... and Cap had to have heard.

"I... if you don't want me to, I completely understand. It's slightly inappropriate, I don't know how old he is and I'm seventeen. It's really improper, but please don't make me quit being a field agent for it. I really don't-"

He held up both of his hands to silence me, and shook his head slightly. "No, Callie, while I agree that it's inappropriate, I think you've done well." I was thoroughly shocked. My hands were itching for something to squeeze. "R-really?"

"Now he's emotionally invested, and it's highly unlikely that he'll ever hurt you, let you be hurt, or kick you out of the RUG. Good work, darling, really." I smiled, preparing to stand. "Thank you, Cap. Now, I'll be-" Cap placed a hand on my leg, and moved closer to me. "That's not what I've brought you here to discuss, Callie." I settled in again, and my anxiety came right back.

"Oh." I almost whispered.

He sighed, staring up at me with gentle eyes. "I wanted to wait another year to have this conversation with you, but... given the circumstances, I think it's time." My palms were cold and sweaty for reasons unknown to me, but something about the way he was staring at me made me feel extremely uneasy. His bangs were in his eyes, and it made him seem younger.

"Your father... was an amazing man," he swallowed, knitting his fingers together. "My father knew him before I was born, but I did not come to meet Jesse Jackson until the day you were born. I was thirteen and working on my citizenship to the United States, I... moved here a year or two before then. It was smack in the middle of your father's campaign, and... the entire country thought he was mental, running for president when most African Americans couldn't even have lunch where they wanted to.

"The big battles had been fought by then, MLK was already dead. Your father and mine worked very closely together during those battles, and became very close friends. My father introduced me to Mr. Jackson just... hours after you'd been birthed, and put you right in my arms. All of your other siblings had already been born, your two sisters and three brothers were there too, just pining to see your face. But I... I was holding you, talking to your father about school. I was already in high school at that point, academics in England are different than here."

He was smiling to himself now, cracking his knuckles lightly, glancing up at me ever so often. I was just wondering where this story was going, honestly. I was surprised when he whipped out his metal cigarette case, opening it up. He didn't like to smoke in front of me when I was young, but he did then, lighting up and expelling a cloud of tobacco haze.

"I never wanted to put you down, see. Even then you were so beautiful, with those big eyes of yours and a head full of hair. I knew you'd be your father's favorite. You were always my favorite of his children, even when you could do nothing but gurgle." He took another puff, and put the metal case back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

"Anyway, in 1968, your father was standing on the balcony at the Lorraine Motel, right beside MLK, and right beside your father. Just before MLK was shot, your father said something to mine. He said, 'You are my best friend, David, and when this is all over, I will repay you for your deeds.' He knew my father had a young son, and so he continued, 'When the fight is won, I promise your son one of my daughters. Any one he sees fit to have.'" He stopped talking to gaze at me, but I still didn't understand.

"As I held you in my arms that day, I already knew which daughter I wanted. Don't get me wrong, I was never attracted to children, but... I just knew. Santita was a nice girl, and Ashley was too, but where their faces had a certain... hard quality, yours had one of such sweet softeness, I couldn't ignore it. Mr. Jackson smiled at me while you sucked on one of my fingertips." He was opening the wine bottles, pouring the deeply red liquid up to the brim of each glass. He offered one to me, which I politely declined. The sight of alcohol made me want to retch again.

"Take it, darling." I did so extremely reluctantly as he took a long sip from his. "Drink," he said. I'd never had wine before, only champagne. Even the smallest bit tasted bitter and disgusting, yet richer than the tequila had been. "More." He tipped the end of my glass up some, and didn't let me stop until a good portion of the wine was gone.

"He said to me, 'When my Calliope is a woman, she's all yours.'" I wanted to throw my glass of wine, and watch the red liquid seep into the white fabric of the sofa.

He leaned forward, still holding the stem of his wine glass. "Let me put it simply, Callie: We are to be married by your twenty-first year, which is when you'll give me a child. We were to... start the courting process when you turned eighteen, but I don't think any more waiting is necessary. I've watched you blossom into a very attractive young woman, and now that you've gotten yourself involved with a man, you need to know to whom you truly belong."

A ghost of a smile resided on his lips as he drained his glass of wine, pouring himself another glass and refilling mine. I held it, and I stared at him. I didn't know how to feel, to me it was like my father sold me like a horse before I was old enough to talk. Cap meant a lot to me, but marriage? Would an orphan marry her foster parent?

"Cap..." He urged me to drink some more, and I did. My headache was returning.

"I know this might be a lot to take in at once, Callie, but the sooner we just jump into it the easier it will be." I stared down into my glass. The liquid was like blood, just thinner, and it smelled stronger. A thin coat of sugars lazily floated across the surface of the wine, swirling in a spiral shape.

"Tell me what you're thinking, love." He placed his forefinger beneath my chin and raised it, forcing me to meet his eyes. I wanted to tell him no, I wanted to have a say. I wanted to tell him that I had a guy, finally-it had been a great struggle to get him. I wanted to tell him to have everything remain the way it was. I didn't want to think about marrying anyone.

"I'm thinking... that you used to give me candy. You used to read me Dr. Seuss books before I went to bed every night. You used to give me... bubble baths." He chuckled, dipping his finger into his wine glass before sucking away the liquid on it. "You could still have the candy and the bubble baths, if you'd like."

I set the wine glass down, I couldn't bear to look at it anymore. I wanted to go to my bedroom and shut out the world, but he didn't let me. He put his glass beside mine and stood, sitting down again right beside me, close enough that our legs were touching. He placed his hand a few inches above my knee, and stared directly into my eyes.

"Please know that I'll never hurt you. I will never force you to do anything you don't want, I never have, yes?" I nodded. "Yes, Cap." My breath ceased when he placed his palm against my cheek. "Shame I won't be your first kiss, but in a way I will. That man's father took your Jess, Callie. You could never love him."

His technique was so different than the Sergeant's, so slow, very deliberate. The Sergeant just wanted to close the distance between us as fast as he possibly could but Cap didn't. He gently placed a single kiss on my lips before he withdrew a little, giving me a chance to adjust. It was so out of the ordinary I almost thought I was dreaming; only until he kissed me again, so very slowly. One after another, disconnected.

I wanted to run.

I felt his hand creeping up my thigh as he finally pulled away, staring down at me lovingly. "Did he touch you?" I shook my head no and he smiled, visibly pleased. "Good, darling. I..." He gazed at me, and took his hand way from my leg. "I would like to make you mine tonight." I just blinked at him. What the heck was that supposed to mean?

"Come to my room in half an hour. Wear a nightgown, and nothing else." He stood abruptly and walked to the elevator, glancing back at me only once. His eyes were shining.

I sat there, flabbergasted. This whole time... he was only grooming me to be what he wanted in a woman. All of those seemingly harmless kisses on the cheeks and hugs before bed turned black, all the bedtime stories and innocent childish fun seemed superficial to me. And now, if I'd picked up on his signals correctly, he wanted to physically violate me. Fun.

But I still could not disappoint Cap.

I stood up, and went to my bedroom. I shut the door tightly, and I made my way quickly back to the shower. I stripped down, I got in, and I scrubbed myself all over for a good ten minutes. I grabbed a razor off of the shelf, though I'd shaved only the night before I did it again, three times. When I was finished I sat down on a towel and covered myself in scented lotion, trying to think about what was to happen.

I honestly didn't know anything about what sex was, in movies they usually portrayed the heavy petting part of it, before leaving the rest of the process to the imagination. So I put on my night gown and nothing else, riding down to his floor, afraid of the petting. There was far worse in store.

I knocked gently on his bedroom door and went in, shutting it noiselessly behind me. The lights were low and the fireplace was raging, orange flames leaping and popping. He was standing shirtless in the doorway of the bathroom, gently folding his suit jacket. His breath stopped when he looked at me, and immediately left the jacket. His eyes were jaded as he approached me, raking his eyes up and down my body. I couldn't look at him while he did it, it was too embarrassing.

I gasped a little when he placed both of his hands on my waist, and planted another kiss on my lips. "Do you know what we're going to do, love?" He whispered into my mouth, his hands trailing from my waist to my hips, before coming upward again. "Sex?" I whispered, and my heartbeat got even faster.

"No, Callie. We are going to make love. It's much more meaningful that way." He began kissing me again, harder, more passionately. I could hardely keep up with him, especially when I felt his hands cup my boobs. "You're perfect," he whispered to me before suddenly letting go, and walking over to his dresser. He opened the top drawer and removed that bright pink bag I'd seen what felt like ages ago, marked 'Victoria's Secret'.

"I've gotten you something, just some... lingerie and other things, items that all women should have. I hope I got your size right, is 34 C in the ballpark?" I was breathing heavily as I nodded, and he placed the bag on the dresser. He returned to me, gently leading me toward his bed. The comforter was peeled back already.

His fingers wrapped around the hem of my nightgown which he gently pulled off over my head. I didn't dare to cover myself from him, I could see how that might play out. I closed my eyes as he placed his hand against my stomach. "Lay down." The room was warm from the fire, I could already feel beads of sweat growing on my forehead. I sat and slid backward on the bed, lying down right in the center of it.

I didn't watch, but I heard his zipper and the soft whoosh of clothes hitting the floor. He was just as naked as I was when he got into the bed beside me, still studying every inch of my body. I took a quick look at his out of sheer curiosity, and then glued my eyes to the cieling again. I wondered if Baby felt this way her first time. I doubted it.

"I... love you, so much." His mouth crashed down onto mine, and his hands were on my chest again, massaging gently before they moved down, and then back up again, going lower every time. He paused briefly to place my arms around his neck before continuing, kissing down my face and jawline.

I guess this wasn't so bad, I told myself. After a while I began to feel warm in certain... places. There was a sea of wetness between my legs and I didn't know why. He was being very gentle, whispering things into my ear to make me blush. I kissed him back just a little, and then a lot, which made him touch me even more.

I could kinda admit that I was enjoying myself- until he ruined it by putting his fingers inside of me.

I called out when it happened, clutching a fistful of his hair tightly. He chuckled, wiggling his two fingers just slightly. "Ow, Cap," I gasped, reaching down to move his hand away. He caught my wrist with his free hand and placed it on his lower abdomen, shaking his head at me slightly. "It won't hurt for long, sweetheart, but if you let me touch you this way, it won't hurt as badly down the line." I didn't understand but I listened, gritting my teeth as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of me, gradually picking up speed.

It hurt every time he moved for just a little while, but then it faded away. When he curled his fingers upward I felt a sudden jolt of the good feeling I'd been experiencing before, and let out a moan. He grinned, nipping at the skin on my collarbone lightly. I could feel blood rushing to the surface there, and he left light pink marks in his wake.

I was relieved when he removed his fingers, while slightly disappointed. His teeth were harsh on my skin, but I liked it. Suddenly he removed his mouth from my skin and positioned himself above me, even smirking down at me as he gently pushed my thighs apart. His fingers indented the sensitive skin there. I stared with obvious fear at his hard-on, which was indicative of what was going to happen to me next.

"You are so fucking sexy," I think he was saying, but I was too distracted by the pain of him shoving himself inside of me without warning. My back arched away from the bed as I practically screamed, dragging my nails down the slope of his back with my eyes screwed shut. Tears were in my eyes for sure, and he tried to kiss them away, rubbing my hips to comfort me. "Taking it slow would've hurt more," he explained, withdrawing a little before filling me again.

I cried out each time he moved, though it hurt just a little less. He was too, but I doubt he was in pain. He buried his face in my neck, sucking on the skin there all the way up to my ear and my hair, and then back down again. His hands were everywhere at once.

Eventually the pain subsided and my moans weren't from pain anymore. His name was rolling off of my tongue repeatedly and mine from his. Pressure was building in my lower abdomen as he quickened his pace, and with a final thrust the pressure was gone, leaving me limp with extreme euphoria. I felt his muscles stiffen below me before he pulled out, releasing a bunch of whitish goo on my abdomen. "Callie," he moaned one last time before collapsing behind me in the slightly damp sheets.

There was blood in the white stuff on my stomach, which I assumed was my contribution.

Once the pleasure faded the horror eased in again, even while his lips still pepped kisses down my chest. "Ow," I whimpered, there was a gradually increasing pain radiating from between my legs. "Don't worry, love," he yawned, letting his eyes fall closed. "The more we make love, the better it gets. Eventually it won't hurt at all."

I got out of bed and it hurt even worse, I could barely walk over to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me gently and went to his shower, turning the water to the hottest setting before stepping in.

I felt disgusting. I felt worse than those girls in the bar, grinding all over each other for the amusement of other men. This was what sex was supposed to be? Such temporary pleasure, only to find out afterward that you've just exposed yourself to someone in the deepest way, and now you've got to live with it?

Sobs were errupting from my chest as I stood there in the stream of the water. I deserved the pain, certainly. What would the Sergeant think of me now that I'd given myself up to another man? He would go right back to hating me, I was certain. He wouldn't even be able to look at me.

I was disgusting, I told myself before turning off the water and attempting to pull myself together. I used a stray towel to dry off before opening the door to the bedroom again, clutching the towel to my chest. He was half asleep. I eased toward the next door, past the fireplace, but before I could escape the fire crackled unusually loudly, and his eyelids flew open.

"Come to bed." He said softly, and I had no choice but to return, only dropping the towel right before I slipped beneath the comforter. I laid right along side the edge of the bed in the hopes that he'd leave me alone. The guilt weighed heavily in my chest as Cap inched closer, placing a sweet kiss on my shoulder. "You're mine now," he told me, placing another kiss on my lips.

He nuzzled into me, and instantly fell asleep with his head on my chest. I did not rest for the longest time. In fact I just watched the fire die slowly, wishing it was the Sergeant lying beside me.

~fin~