Author's Note: Hi everyone. No, I'm not dead. I know everyone probably hates me regardless for not updating this story in…oh…two years. There aren't any excuses, so I'm not going to give any. I can't exactly say what got me writing again, but all of your wonderful reviews and e-mails pleading me to continue finally got to me.
I am deeply sorry for not continuing this fanfiction in the speed in which I originally intended. I am also deeply sorry for keeping so many of you waiting. Please forgive me.
Hopefully, this will be the start of weekly updating for this story. I hope I can gain back all the fans I once had, and I'm hoping you all will keep this story on your favorites list. Please keep in mind that it has been two years since I have truly written anything, so this may not be up to the standards you all have so wonderfully set for me. Still, I hope it will work in the long run. Please give me some time to adjust to the groove of writing again, as well as the groove for this story I had originally intended. And also, please review, and please enjoy. I am truly flattered by all the reviews left for a mere four chapters, and I hope that I have not lost all my fans.
Once again, enjoy, and I'm sorry the wait was so miserably long.
He Sees Her
Chapter Five: Auron/Rikku In Her Fear
By: Dark Mousy
Her situation was looking bleak. Four agents surrounded her in the brightly-lit room, one in each bright corner. It reminded her somewhat of a hospital room with its sterilized walls and large mirror that was, no doubt, a window into an office beyond. The table she sat at was pure steel and shined to a perfect gleam that seemed to reflect her fearful face back at her. She had desperately tried to stir up uneasy conversation with the agents around her but none of them had even blinked.
"You all are robots!" She heaved a sigh, uncaring of whether they took offense at such a childish insult. Her blond hair was matted to her face with nervous perspiration, and though the air conditioning came out with chilling force she still felt hot and uneasy. "Stupid Rikku…stupid Rikku…" she muttered to herself, and gently pounded the table top for emphasis.
Though the events she had just seen were grisly at best, she still tried to retain her calm and cheerful demeanor…for the first three hours. After being denied a restroom break from the insufferable room she was starting to get ancy – and not just because of the fear. She swore under her breath. If they thought she was lying, they would surely get a laugh once she ended up wetting her shorts.
Though the chair was made out of steel like the table, it still clung mercilessly to her thighs. Every time she would shift into a different cross-legged position to hold her bladder at bay she swore the chair would hold onto skin follicles left behind. The sharp peeling sound as she removed her skin from the seat reminded her of cellophane being peeled from a days-old Thanksgiving turkey…Gross and painful looking.
"Look, you guys, I really…I really have to go!" She whined, in her child-like voice as her blond tresses bounced with her movement. "I'm not lying! If you don't let me go right now…"
Just as she was about to give her fiftieth or sixtieth empty threat for the evening, the door directly across the table from her opened. In stepped another black-clad robot agent, followed shortly by a much larger, more imposing man dressed in the most startling shade of crimson. She looked with wonder as she craned her neck up to see him, taken slightly aback by his grisly features and the fact that one eye was permanently shut from a scar.
She began to panic – she hadn't exactly heard stories…but she had seen the movies. The interrogation room was where they sent the muscle in to beat the crap out of the poor, unsuspecting little girl (a.k.a. her) and ruin her beautiful face for all eternity if she did not acquiesce to their questions. She felt her palms start to sweat, and the steam marks showed on the steel table around her clenched fists.
The room was starting to feel smaller every second. No sooner had both men stepped in that yet another one did – different from the robots in that he was simply dressed with a tall, lanky form and nasty-looking hair. His eyes, however, held a mischievous and almost child-like glint that she would have happily related to had she not been surrounded by so many serious-looking men.
The panic was really setting in now. She had it all figured out already. The man dressed in red was the bad cop; the one simply dressed was the good cop. They would force any and all answers out of her until she ended up in the juvi or dead…and the former would be much, much worse.
Resolved, she steeled herself for what was to come and looked the crimson clad man straight in the eye…while having to stand up on her tip toes to do so. Even then she was a good head shorter than him, but she was not about to let it get to her.
"I have rights," she said, rather stubbornly.
"Not in the FBI you don't." The man in plainclothes said, as he moved to sit on the edge of the table. She turned her glare to him, ready to hit his smug face. He had to be lying, she did have rights, she could not be held against her will like this…wasn't it kidnapping? Abduction? Did the government truly have that much leeway?
No, no, she decided. He was just trying to get to her. That's what they did in interrogation rooms, interrogate. Beat the living crap out of… "No, no," she said, trying to convince herself as she shook her head. There had to be another way around it. She was smart, she was a trained thief – she would figure it out.
"Look, I don't have to say anything without my lawyer," she began, and to add emphasis she made sure her pert little nose was placed high in the air. She had learned that from a movie, too.
The plain clothes agent looked as if he was about to offer a snide remark, but the crimson-clad man spoke first. "Enough."
Though the command was quiet, it was like a firm hand that pushed her straight down into her seat so fast her bladder seemed to give a jump. 'Not now…' she pleaded with her errant organ, willing the need to get out of the office to go into the recesses of her mind.
Before Rikku knew it, she was jarred from her thoughts by the photographs that spread out before her. The large man had sat directly in front of her and had also proceeded to place numerous bloody photos in front of her. She glanced at them nervously, biting her bottom lip in anxiety. She didn't want to remember, and yet every picture conjured up a flash of recent events that left her shivering – and not from the cold.
"Would you like to tell me why you were found in a janitorial closet?" It was the first sentence she had heard him say, and despite the circumstances she was enraptured by the rough quality of his voice. It was like crème flowing over broken glass – smooth, but sharp at the same time. Where did men learn to talk like that?
Auron noticed with some dismay that her thoughts were on nothing in front of her, and to bring her back to reality he slammed a photo on the table with enough force to nearly rattle her out of her seat.
"Look, the sooner you tell us the sooner you can leave." The plain clothes agent began, as he slowly stood up. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?"
Rikku looked up at him with disdain, but forced a cute smile on her face. "Tea sounds fine." She saw the agents briefly look at each other in question, obviously wondering if she was lying about her bladder since she was so ready to accept something else to drink. In all truth, she just wanted some breathing room. They were playing good cop, bad cop. Was it going to be just like the movies?
The entire room was stiflingly silent as the agent returned with a cup of tea in a white Styrofoam cup. She took it gently, pretending to take a sip as she watched everyone around her with feigned disinterest. In all reality she was very interested…but only on the door. She had no idea what lay beyond but whatever it was, it had to be certainly better than here.
When it looked as if the crimson-clad man was about to speak, the door opened again. Rikku gave out an exasperated sigh as a woman poked her head in.
"Jecht?" She said. "There's someone on the line from the hospital, they say your son is there."
The reaction in the plain clothes agent was immediate, and Rikku noticed his smug demeanor fade instantly. She almost felt pity for him…almost. As soon as the man known as 'Jecht' left with another agent she was left with three agents and the man sitting in front of her. He was built like a fortress and looked like one too – she had no doubt that there was plenty of strength hidden under his clothes but strength tended to be slow…she was not going to stay here, she knew that for sure. She had already been threatened once, and she had to fear from her life on the outside and on the inside.
'Not one word…' she remembered the cool voice saying. 'Not a single word…' And she remembered all to well how cold a gun barrel felt when it was neatly pressed against her pale temple.
"You can't keep me here like this," she said as she tried to sound as strong as she surely was not. Her hand made one sweeping motion to push all the pictures off the table in a flurry of blood and cold, soulless eyes staring out from the Polaroid's. "I know it's illegal past forty-eight hours…" She hoped she was right, since she had heard that from a movie too. Or was it government class? She could hardly tell the two apart anymore. "So if I have to wait here till then, I will." She gave a slight 'humph' in emphasis, and decided to gently turn her cup in her hands.
The man in front of her gave an exasperated sigh, and the other agents began picking up the fallen pictures.
It was now or never, she thought. Butterflies filled her stomach and chest as she studied the door very intently, as well as the two agents who were kneeling on the floor in the far side of the room. All she could remember were those three little words… 'Not one word…not one word…' And it was those words that drove her forward.
In a rush of blond hair she sprung from her seat, making a leap for the door not four feet away. The man across from her, however, seemed to have anticipated the movement as soon as her muscles tightened and no sooner had she made it to the doorknob that his arms were around her – surprisingly strong arms. She reverted to a panicked state and began kicking and screaming against the captor that held her from behind, and with some satisfaction she heard the grunt from the man behind her as the back of her foot connected with his groin.
It was then that it seemed he wasn't going to take anymore of her antics, and she found herself twisted in his grip and slammed neatly against the steel table she had just sprung across. The hot tea spilt, searing her back through her tank top as the man above her roughly pressed her down.
All was quiet for a while before she gave a soft, soulful whimper at the pain that seemed delayed in coming. "You're hurting me," she nearly cried, and was momentarily surprised at the reaction the words caused in the man above her. He got off her as if she herself was burning, and left the room with the door slamming so hard the cheap crown molding cracked. The two other agents were left near speechless with bloody photos still in their hands, watching the door that Auron just left through.
Rikku, on the other hand, laid panting and burning with the violent contact on the no longer sterilized steel table.
I enjoyed writing this chapter. I hope it's up to everyone's standards, and I promise that now I have nothing to do I will write a lot more frequently and update…but only if I get reviews!