Just Keep Swimming, Just Keep Swimming... [Willow]

[Waddle]

Nights were short now, and the days were long. In Canada, it couldn't get 'hot' like it did in America. Even today, at the hottest part of the day, it wasn't half as hot as it could get in America. Ryan would never miss America, he decided right then. He liked the cold much better than the heat. In America, he could hardly change into his talisman form because it was so hot, and the flies were unbearable. But now... Even if it was Canada, it felt hot. Mainly because he was in the shape of a large white Siberian tiger, standing mostly submerged in the lake. The trees hung over him, casting him in shadows. Even with the added shadows, it was hard to miss the fluffy white head poked out of the water, always watching what was around him with pale blue/gray eyes.

The nights were short. Too short. It was hard to get anything done if you were a hit man and total darkness lasted only five hours. It was hard to get near the target, or 'deader' as Ryan had begun calling them, undetected and unexpected. Still, Ryan had been doing this job for a while, and was experienced at it already. It came naturally to him. He used the term 'deader' because when he took a contract, that person had but hours, sometimes days to live. Once he took a contract, that person was doomed to die. Soon. When he used the term 'target', it meant that he wasn't being paid to kill that person. He just wanted to. Right then, he only had one target. But he liked playing with that target. I already took away everything he cared about. Let's see what other suffering I can put him and his friends through.[/color]

His eyes locked on a mother, father and child walking on the other side of the lake. Each parent held one of the little girl's tiny hands, and every few paces, they would swing her, squealing with laughter, up into the air and then set her back down before repeating the process a few steps later. The man looked along the opposite shore of the lake, and Ryan slid easily down under the water to hide himself. Underwater, he opened his eyes and began swimming, stretching his limbs out in the process and releasing some tension that had grown there. He was oddly relaxed, a rarity. Everything was quiet in his head, and he didn't feel sick. He didn't feel at peace, but he was as peaceful and calm as he ever got.

He tried peering through the murk of the lake to see the bottom, but it was too dirty to see through. Ryan angled down and deeper into the lake, till he reached the bottom and was able to walk along it. Feeling tightness in his chest, Ryan crouched and sprang upward, kicking until his head broke the water. Breathing deeply, he glanced around. The family was gone. Good. Ryan drew a deep breath and dove back underwater, straight down, to resume his aquatic walk. The water was cool, even comforting.

Nights were too short, days too long. Time was something no one commanded. Time was controlled by some greater force that was beyond reach. So why waste time thinking on it? Your next hit is seventy miles away and you have two days left and what are you doing, Ryan Sean? You're swimming in a lake, pondering time. Are you hiding? No. Are you being chased? Yes.[/color] Always yes. So toss that question aside; it mattered not anymore. Will this be a difficult hit? Perhaps. Do you have all the equipment required for this hit? Yes. You sound prepared to me. Get out of this damn lake and go complete that hit so you can get the money. Now.

No.

Ryan hardly ever denied the two voices in his head. Nedd and D had often managed to keep him from harm. They'd saved him more times than he cared to count. They counseled him, gave friendly commands. But when they got assertive, Ryan refused to follow their orders. The few times it had happened before, he had always ended up hurt. Right then, he didn't care. He just didn't care. He knew that if he left the lake, if he went south, towards his next deader, that he would be thrown back into that chaotic state of mind that people put the name 'schizophrenia' to. To him, it was just insanity. Ryan enjoyed the few times he was ever calm enough to think clearly. He wasn't going to make himself go back there until he had to. He knew that if he didn't kill this deader in the allotted time, his hirers would uncover him. Not that that scared him. The government already knew where he was, just not when he was there. So he had all the time in the world, really. Seventy miles wasn't far. Two days was plenty of time.[/size]

[Augustus is a SWOObat]

Something tickled Willow's mischievous side. It urged her to do wrong. It might be the white fur and the way it caught her eye, or maybe it was the fact that she'd never seen a tiger. She wasn't the smartest in her grade, but she was pretty sure that that kind of tiger didn't live in Canada. Willow used her tail to propel her through the water. She moved through the murky water, hardly noticeble. She was underneath the odd animal and watched it swim not half as gracefully as her. It was a beautiful beast, and the little girl in her wanted to have it for a pet.. but the alligator inside wanted to eat it. In talisman form, the alligator had more control. Willow moved closer, her instinct drowning out curiosity. She didn't want to know what the feline was doing here, she just wanted to know how it tasted.

Some things came natural to her. Knowledge was one of them. Something as large as that couldn't be swallowed. All her sharp alligator teeth poked out of her mouth to show a hideous smile. The only thing she knew to do at this moment was a death roll. Swimming away wasn't an option; incapacitating it wasn't an option. Willow rolled onto her back, and hugged it with her stubby arms and legs. She pulled it lower and started rolling. Willow let go, planning to enjoy it struggle to find the way up. Maybe it was cruel, but she was in the mood to play. Again, her hideous smile found it's way onto her face again. Her merciless little heart couldn't help but enjoy.

[Waddle]

Something grabbed Ryan around the middle, pinning one foreleg against his chest and jerking him out of his reverie.What did I tell you? D's voice was airy and light, and sarcastic all over. Ryan couldn't see through the murkiness to his adversary, but, as he was dragged down lower into the lake, he felt scales and the skin underneath white fur rippled in a shudder. What the hell is it?! An alligator. The cold, hard, lack of concern in Nedd's redneck voice stirred Ryan into action - he planted his paws firmly on the beast to push it away, but it had already backed off.

Instinct took over - Ryan twisted around and clamped long, yellow fangs around the thing, tight enough to secure it but not to break skin - Scales. Not skin. Scales. He began kicking the water, dragging the small alligator higher. His paws brushed dirt and he was soon loping up an incline, hauling the reptile. Water was pouring into his lungs, but he didn't care. He just wanted to hurt this thing for disturbing him.

His head broke the surface, and, refusing the urge to drop the alligator and begin hacking water from his lungs, Ryan pulled the reptile onto dry land, making sure no amount of writhing or twisting was going to let it get away. He released it, leaving it on its back, and planted both front paws on its belly, pinning it firmly. His head lowered closer to the alligator's, lips writing in a snarl, tail lashing in fury. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"[/color] he demanded, water dripping from his mouth and face onto the alligator. It dripped off his long, striped fur onto the grass. The way he was leaning onto the alligator's belly meant most of the water slid off onto it.

Why are you talking to it? It won't talk back. Whoever said it wouldn't? Physics? It was a voice Ryan didn't know the name to. It was feminine, hesitant and scared. "Turning into an animal shouldn't be possible,"[/b] Ryan snapped aloud, without thinking about it. "Who says animals can't talk to each other?"[/b] He could 'feel' the voice retreating, whimpering to herself like a dog. Ryan knew he should feel regretful for scaring her, but someone so weak shouldn't be sharing his mind. He wasn't weak. Nedd wasn't. D wasn't. That multitude of other voices weren't weak. So why was she? Why did she think she could survive in an environment like this?

Leave her alone, Ryan. She's only trying to prove a point.[/i] "Maybe if she tried to be assertive then I wouldn't snap at her."[/b] Normally, Ryan was able to keep his thoughts in his head. But his mind was being tugged several different ways as more and more complications revealed themselves, complications about a problem not happening at the moment. How was he going to get close to his deader? Where was his deader? When should he leave Noatak, so he could get there, kill his deader, and be back in time to get his money? And why did a small little alligator suddenly decide to try and eat him?! "You're not even half my size and you still tried to eat me. So should I just snap your neck and be done with it?"[/b]

He paused for a moment, then continued. If the alligator couldn't talk back, why wait in hope that it would? "You're still a young one, aren't you? Too bad you're not big enough to get away from me."[/b] At the last word, his tail lashed extra hard, rocking his hind quarters to one side. "I think I'd like a fight right about now."[/b] It was rare for Ryan to want to fight. Normally, he would just draw his pistol and shoot whoever was annoying him. Normally, he would draw a knife, or maybe both of them, and put them threateningly close to that person's face, a promise to cut some decorations there. Normally, they'd leave him alone, if they weren't already dead. But right then, he wanted to wrestle. He wanted to use the powerful muscles of the tiger. Ryan, as a human, was not muscular in anyway. He was too malnourished and skinny. Even as the tiger, he was thin enough that ribs showed, but he felt so much more powerful. Not that this little alligator could satisfy his need to wrestle.[/size]

[Augustus is a SWOObat]

It was the oddest thing to watch. She didn't know the tiger could talk, let alone to itself. It felt like a rock hit her face. Willow felt so dumb. Of course the tiger was a talisman. What else would a tiger be doing in this part of Canada? Willow couldn't get off her back, not if she was an alligator. As an alligator, she wasn't as graceful on land. The water was where she dominated, but now she was on dry. Her talisman told her not to shift back, but Willow didn't listen to anyone.. not even talisman, which was sort of like herself. Willow liked the power her talisman form gave her, but hated the fact her talisman's control over their body got stronger when she shifted.

"I think I'd like a fight right about now."


She could hear her talisman growl in his deep throaty voice, but she shifted back anyway. "That makes two of us." Willow wasn't weak, but she doubted she could push a full-grown tiger off her. Her stubbornness was the only thing that made her try. "You're going to get us killed." Her talisman didn't sound very panicked, practically bored. Shut up. Willow planted her feet on Ryan's chest and shoved as hard as she could. It was a good thing her predator was so malnourished, or she wouldn't have moved it at all. Her kick moved him enough to scramble out from underneath him. She wasn't panicking in the slightest, in fact, she was looking forward to the fight. Her talisman told her to shift, and she reluctantly obeyed. Willow was stubborn and willful, but she wasn't stupid. She knew there was no way she could win a fight against a tiger, not as a human anyway. Her human grin, with her tiny pearly white teeth, shifted into something contorted and wrong. Sharp, menacing teeth took their place, and her pupils became nothing but slits. Her skin changed subtly till it was all scales, and before she could blink, she was a petite alligator. Her tail whipped back and forth dangerously, beckoning the cat to play.

[Waddle]

Too surprise to react as the alligator turned into a small little girl, Ryan took several seconds to recover. She had a talisman. The little girl had a talisman. It made sense. She had talked to him. Her talking hadn't startled him. It was the shifted that did. It took a lot to startle Ryan, but in that moment, the world could have caught fire and he wouldn't have noticed. So here was another person with a talisman. So here was yet another one. He had only met one other one, and that one had scared him half to death. She had been an Undecided, and he had taken her to the right person. Now she was a Hunter, and now she never left him alone. And she was a little girl. She was bigger than this one, but she was still a little girl.

Ryan briefly considered running away. He didn't want another stalker. One was fourteen too many. It didn't take a biologist to know a tiger like Ryan's talisman did not live in Canada. The girl undoubledly knew he had a talisman - she didn't look stupid. She looked quite the opposite, indeed. She was smart enough to turn human to get away from him, then back into an alligator.

She was pratically begging him to fight. His tail lashed in return, and he crouched low on his forepaws, a deep growl rising in his throat. "No rules. No precautions."[/b] Ryan lunged, jaws open wide. He immitated going for her throat, but let his teeth brush her scales instead, while he jumped cleanly over her. Spinning around, he settled his weight onto his hind paws and waited.[/size]

[Augustus is a SWOObat]

No rules meant she could fight as dirty as she wanted. Willow spun around as fast as she could. The lunge had scared her and she could feel the adrenaline pulsing beneath her scales. Her talisman took over by force. You're too slow. Don't give him a chance to react. Take him by surprise. This wasn't what she wanted. She wanted the fight. She wanted to fight for herself, not have someone do it for her. Willow tried to shove her bossy talisman back and take control again, but he was adamant on keeping in control. He snapped forward quickly. He moved so fast it looked more like a compulsive twitch then an attack. The attack was a well-aimed bite to Ryan's paws. Before they even reached Rye, Willow shifted back to human. She landed on her feet, only stumbling slightly. No way was she going to be controlled. Her talisman always thought along the same lines as her, but he had never suspected this. Willow would rather take on a tiger in her own body and lose, then have her talisman take over and fight on her behalf and maybe even win. IDIOT. His hiss would have sent shivers down someone else's spine, but Willow was different. She was stronger.

"No! You're the idiot. Remember who's in charge here." She couldn't help but shout it aloud. Willow stared out into the distance, because what she was yelling at couldn't be seen, not even by herself. She was scowling fiercely, not even sure if her talisman could see it. Willow and her talisman were so similar, and that's why they clashed so terribly. They were both too willful and stubborn. Not. You. He forced the change. Willow could feel her mental self being shoved down. Her Alligator spun around quick as a whip, using his tail as a weapon. Willow secretly willed the tiger to dodge it, just out of spite for her talisman. You will learn to be obedient. That was the last straw. She was obedient for no one. Willow tried to force control, like she had done before, but nothing happened, except for a cold throaty laugh coming from her talisman. He whipped around again to face the tiger; his alligator grin seemed even more twisted when it came from him. He stalked closer slowly, his weight switched from side to side. He circled around Rye dangerously. Tiger meat would hit the spot right about now. He was conversing so casually with her, as if they hadn't had a fight, but that was how he always was. Her talisman would snap, get control, and return to normal. Control was what kept him sane. The same could be said for Willow, and right now she wasn't in control. She was howling at him as loud as she could get. He was the only one who could hear her, thought he ignored her completely, seeming like he couldn't. He had everything: their speech, their mobility, everything.

He got bored of circling, mainly because Ryan didn't seem to cower. Her talisman's aggression was gone, but that didn't mean he wasn't still hungry. "Play time's over." He grinned, and repeated his lunge for Ryan's feet. Cripple him first, watch him struggle, make it slow and make it painful. That was the way he liked to play. And when he got bored, he would just end it with a quick bite to his toy's throat. The fight might be fun, the struggle might be pleasureable, but there was nothing that could beat the satisfaction of hearing the sickening snap of bone.

[Okay, Okay. It's not TERRIBLY long, but it's longer than anything i've come up with lately. Sorry.]

[Waddle]

The thing's moves were easy to anticipate. Of course it would go for his paws. At a vantage point like that, you had to aim low. Ryan remembered one time in Afghanistan when he'd been crippled and couldn't get up. A very foolish Afghan soldier tried to kill him, but Ryan had kept him away by shooting at his legs because he was too weak to lift the gun up higher. Watching that Afghan man skip around, jerking his knees high in an attempt to keep from being shot, had made him laugh. So lesson learned - when you were down on the ground, go for the legs. Of course, unless you had something to prop the gun on to aim higher, like a rock or maybe someone else's dead body.

And it was easy to see where the alligator was going to move next by how it bunched its muscles up. Ryan had to look for them - he had never fought an alligator before - but he found them, or something that gave him a hint as to where the reptile was about to move. Sidestepping easily, Ryan paused as the girl turned back into a human. No rules, remember?[/color] The snottiness in D's voice made Ryan want to punch her. He couldn't, though. She was just a voice. And he only hoped that she, Nedd, and the timid voice stayed that way. He didn't want to start seeing things again.

The girl shouting made his tail lash surprise. Who was she shouting at? It hit him. Maybe she too had a voice inside her. Maybe she too was crazy. But no, nothing else seemed wrong with her. She had just... shouted, almost screamed, into nothingness. The thought had kept him from reacting in her moment of stillness, and now Ryan cursed himself with the harshest words he knew. He could have ended this quickly. He wanted to know, wanted to know now. Wanted to know what side she was on, wanted to know what was up with her multi-colored hair, wanted to know many things that she couldn't answer.

The alligator, at first seeming to charge at Ryan, spun and lashed at him with its thick, scaly tail. Ryan had been ready to pounce of the of the way, and he accomplished it easily. He had to give the thing credit - it was smart and cunning. But it had the disadvantage of not being as agile as Ryan. It was probably just as powerful as him if it got in the right position, but otherwise, Ryan could easily out-pace and outmaneuver it.

Ryan was lulled into memories by the time the alligator began to circle. Good memories, bad memories, good friends, bad enemies. The ole Army days. Days when things were so much simpler. Instead of running his own illegal business, all he had to do was aim, pull the trigger, and not let the drill sergeant's tauntings get under his skin. Six years... Six good years and I threw it all away... They would have found you.[/i] The voice was the timid one's. It took a second for Ryan to reply. Was she... trying to comfort him?

His body had taken control. He wasn't going to back down from this circling alligator, no way in hell. While his mind was a million miles and years away, his body knew what was going on. Even still, when the alligator lunged again, Ryan was too slow to react. Teeth closed around his right forepaw. A roaring snarl rose from his throat as he was disturbed from his reverie. Why couldn't this damn thing leave him alone, to think about better times?!

Ryan didn't even play the thing's game. He tore his leg away, even though he heard bone snap and saw blood spurt in every which direction. Easily ignoring the pain, Ryan reared onto his hind legs briefly, and only just a little bit. His good leg lashed out toward the alligator's face, four inch claws attempting to rake across and maybe blind it. Not by scratching its tiny eyes. Those targets were too small. Ryan aimed above the left eye, then jerked the paw downward towards the snout. He jumped away before registering if his hit had connected with flesh.

As he landed on his bad leg, he stumbled, almost falling to the ground, then struggled back up, whirled, and roared a challenge at her. It, her, it, her... Whatever it was. Ryan was not going to be distracted again. Instead of wasting the time and surprise by settling onto his hindquarters, Ryan simply sprung at the alligator. While still in the air, Ryan shifted into a human. His trench coat was, for once, not present - he had hidden it and several other of his gadgets in a bush. Bare feet, jeans and a t-shirt, and two knives was all he had left on him. He felt bare, naked, even, without his coat.

The thought was there and gone as he grabbed the alligator's side. As he flew over it, Ryan didn't let go. He had full intentions of getting the alligator on its back again. Ryan only let go when he crashed into the ground and rolled into a crouch, feet spread wide on the slick bank of the lake. He was close to the water now. He was between the alligator and the water. Strategically, not a good place to be, but he didn't mind. The two knives flashed out into his good hand as he paced toward the reptile. The knives only stayed with him as he shifted forms because they were a part of him, a part of his past, present, and future. They were the same knives he'd killed his father with, the same knives he had never, ever let out of his sight. And now, he intended on using them to skin this thing. No, wait... He'd just wanted to play. Why did he want to kill this thing now? He'd said he wanted to wrestle, and he really had.

So much for wrestling. They could wrestle with knives, couldn't they? The answer came and he dropped the knives on the grass and kicked them away. Wrestle didn't mean maim. Wrestle meant using muscle. Didn't it?[/size]

[Augustus is a SWOObat]

Willow's grip on the tiger's leg was tight, but the tiger apparently didn't care. Willow's jaw snapped closed on nothing with an audible click. The Alligator inside of her saw the mangled mess and felt a very ferocious hunger festering inside her. She was ravenous, and the blood in her mouth only made her more so. How boring. He isn't very good at games. Her talisman still had control, but she couldn't afford to exchange the power of her talisman for the control of her human body. If he weren't so stubborn, manipulative, controlli- He chuckled, acting pleasant. If i weren't stubborn, manipulative, and controlling, then i wouldn't be here. Look in a mental mirror, why don't you. Willow knew they were carbon copies, and that was one of the reasons she hated him so much.

Willow didn't have much to do, her talisman was doing it all for her. She bickered with the alligator, but he only answered back half-heartedly, more intent on his fight with the tiger than his fight with her. Sometimes he snapped back and something he answered more amused than anything else. Willow was sitting in the back of their mind, arms folded and sulking like the child that she was. He was telling her off now. Something about her style of fighting. She was reckless but predictable. Willow didn't know how to fight. She whipped around like a dismembered lizard's tail. In the back of their mental mind where she had been shoved, Willow glanced over to glare at her talisman, but she saw something much worse than a bossy alligator with an obnoxious grin. It was Ryan and his incredibly sharp looking claws. Watch it! In a sudden panic, Willow seized control and flicked their body in an attempt to avoid being cut into ribbons. She was too slow, or maybe Ryan was too fast.

She could feel those four inches rake into her shoulder. It hurt a lot. Before she knew it something touched her side. Willow had been so preoccupied with the pain she hadn't noticed his lunge or his shift. It took her completely by surprise. She was rolled onto her back, but the momentum took her from her stomach to her back and back to her stomach. Basically, the force of the roll negated the effect. She was standing exactly how she was, if only a little more to the right, and very dizzy. Ryan pulled something out that glinted well. Willow's vision swam and the ground seemed to move like the water swells in a wave. She tried to move forward and swayed dangerously. All her concentration was gone. She was back to a little girl. Willow narrowed her eyes at the Ryan's. She leaned haphazardly to the left and tipped over. She hit the floor with a thud, and didn't even bother to put her arms up to cushion her fall. ".. I feel sick." It probably had something to do with her turn around.. and the blood she was losing from her shoulder. Willow rolled onto her back, feeling sick to her stomach. Hope the blood comes out.. It would suck if she ruined her clothes.

[Waddle]

Ryan watched her shift forms with cold eyes. She didn't get up. She looked woozy, and then she slumped to the ground. Ryan scoffed. So much for a wrestle. She wasn't even hurt that bad.

If she'd been fully grown, it wouldn't have been that bad. But she was small, and the blood was leaving her quickly. It took a few seconds for that to sink into Ryan. He had basically just killed her. It was his fault the game was over. His scorn turned to something akin to horror. It was muted, and almost numb, but the fact that it was there was enough to send him into a panic.

Mumbling the harshest curses he knew, Ryan wandered aimlessly over to where he'd hidden his coat. Pulling it out of the bush, he dug one hand into one of the multiple pouches sewn inside. He growled as he realized he was out of scrap cloth. The girl was bleeding. She needed to stop bleeding. He had to stance the bleeding for her.

What if it had been August? he wondered. What if he had hurt her enough that she was probably not going to recover anytime soon? Well, he probably wouldn't have hurt her that much. No, that was a lie. He probably would have, given a good reason too. She always gave him a good reason to hurt her. But he would help her. He would try and make it up to her. But why was he wanting to help this girl he didn't even know, the one who'd shredded his hand? He stared at the mangled mess for a moment, then shook his head. He wanted to help her because sometimes, he actually did have a conscience. It was rare when he did, but sometimes he did. After doing bad things for so long, a small gesture of kindness made him feel human. And he hated feeling human, but he didn it anyway. Damn, I make no sense and I don't even care anymore.[/i] He'd given up trying a long time ago.

He had nothing left to do but to peel off his shirt and to put the trench coat on. He felt exposed again, without his shirt. But there was nothing to it. He picked up his knife and, with one hand, managed to cut it into long shreds. Under his breath, he was muttering just about every curse in any language that he knew. He didn't know any other languages well, but he sure knew several choice swears in those languages, anywhere from Afrikaans to Spanish.

Finishing, he came to crouch by the girl. He pressed his good fingers into the wounds, not gently. Four deep slashes, deepest at four inches, though, luckily, most of it wasn't that deep. "Take it easy,"[/i] he told her. "Relax.[/b] He wasn't gentle as he bandaged the wound. He was never gentle. Maybe the pain would help her stay conscious. Maybe it would teach her to not mess with a tiger that was just trying to relax. He didn't really care.

It took him a while longer than it should have, because his right hand was practically useless. Breath hissed through his teeth as he fumbled to tie the bandages together with both hands. "You fight well, girl. You'd do well with some training."[/b] Unable to succeed in tying it, he reached down to pull a strip of cloth into the knot with his teeth, then spat to the side. Even his shirt tasted bad. When was the last time he'd showered, or switched shirts?

"Offer to teach her."[/b] The voice was horribly familiar, but it wasn't where it should have been. It should have been in his mind. When he looked behind him, he was standing there. Ryan had never 'seen' Nedd, but he hadn't expected him to look like he did, even though he looked pretty much like a normal person. Average height, average weight, he looked to be almost sixty. His face was kind, his smile was bright and his eyes alight.

Ryan choked on his spit as he tried to swallow, and turned back to the girl, hiding his face from Nedd. The last time he'd seen something he'd known wasn't there had been when he'd imagined his father. And now he was seeing things again. Last time he'd seen something, he'd met Anthony again. Was there a connection between this girl and Anthony? Was his mind telling him that he was supposed to be around this girl, make friends with her? She was ten! But Ryan obeyed Nedd, because, for one thing, he didn't want to fight anymore, and for another, he wanted to know.

"I'll teach you some if you want."[/b][/size]

[Augustus is a SWOObat]

Willow's father was so over-protective, nothing this exciting, or this dangerous, had ever happened to her. She'd never been hurt this badly before, and once upon a time, when she was still her father's little girl, she would have just gotten her daddy to help her. He would have cleaned up the little scrape, given it a kiss, and trick her into believing the kiss actually made it better.. but she wasn't her daddy's little girl and she didn't believe in the power of the make-it-better kiss anymore. Despite the normal, she actually enjoyed the pain a little. It was like all her father's efforts to keep her safe just shriveled up and died. It gave her a sick sort of satisfaction. Weakly, she glanced at the murderer of her father's efforts. If she were up to it, she might actually thank him. Willow laid down on her back and closed her eyes. She was feeling nauseous and light headed. All her limbs felt really limp. Unknown to her, she was slipping into comforting unconsciousness.

She could hear him. He was cursing in languages she couldn't identify. They were getting closer and she was feeling less relaxed. Willow heard some Mandarin and mentally filed it away for later use, though she didn't exactly know what it meant, she knew it was probably not something you'd say to your mother. There was blood on the floor, on her, on her clothes.. her clothes. It sent a different type of pain straight to her core.. or maybe that was Ryan's fingers digging into her shoulder. She let out a little yelp and stared at Ryan with wide eyes. If her eyes could talk, they'd be saying "What the heck?!" Maybe it was his way of cleaning up her wound.. though her father was more gentle. Her body got really stiff, and she had to struggle not to curl up in the fetal position and cry. She was ten years old for heaven's sake. This should be nothing.

Relax? "How can i relax with your fingers in my flesh..?" She didn't expect a reply, probably because she said it so quiet. It seemed like she couldn't get her voice above a whisper. Now she was very aware, though she wished she could go back to being numb. Willow grabbed his hand weakly in a pathetic attempt to make him stop. It hurt too much. She was too proud to beg and wasn't strong enough to make him stop. Willow let her hand slip and decided to suck it up. Her jaw clenched and her hands balled up into fists. Willow wasn't gonna make a sound. It'd make her feel weak, though losing already made her feel very weak. Hearing she fought well made her feel better. Her talisman was saying different. He called her pathetic and talentless.

Willow tuned out her talisman, refusing to hear what she didn't want to. The cloth was very tight, but she guessed it had to be that way. It was really dirty too. She guessed that was her fault. Her clothes weren't exactly spick and span either. Now that Ryan stopped touching her, she could relax. Her shoulder didn't hurt so much now that he stopped aggravating it. Willow relaxed again. This wasn't as pleasant as the first, but it was much safer. She could fall asleep here. She wasn't comfortable, but she was so tired. The wrestle, the lack of blood, it was making her very tired. Teach me? Willow had to admit, she liked the idea. She liked it a lot. Willow said something she hardly ever said. "Please do."

[Waddle]

She looked so weak, but she was so strong. So much stronger than most people should be at her age. How Ryan knew this, he didn't know. Then he realized that someone was whispering it to him, and he looked around again. There was Nedd, smiling, leaned against a tree, his eyes barely visible underneath a large cowboy hat. Beside him stood a little girl, older than the one Ryan was near now, but Ryan knew she was the timid voice. A girl with dirty blonde, shoulder-length hair and freckles. She would have been cute, if Ryan was one to think children cute. But she looked just like another weak soul. She was standing so close to Nedd that a reality hit Ryan a few seconds later - the girl was Nedd's daughter. Damn... And everyone said I didn't have imagination. "What's your name?" he asked her.

"You can name me. I am just in your head after all."

She said it like it was so simple. But they weren't in his head - they were out. Nedd was out again. Ryan had been able to shove him, D, and several others back in there a few months ago after they'd gotten him into some serious trouble, but now they were back. His heart pounded his in chest, blood roared in his ears. He thought he was going to pass out with fear. Not again. Not again, please not again. He closed his eyes, squeezed them tightly shut, then opened them a few seconds later. Nedd and the girl were gone.

Ryan turned back to the girl on the ground - the real girl. Hopefully she was real. But what if she wasn't? Was any of this real? Or was Ryan just bat shit crazy, imagining everything? His hands were shaking as he barely touched the girl's unwounded shoulder. She felt real. She was real. She had to be real, she had to be. his hand jerked away again and he slumped back onto the ground, put his aching head in his hands and shook it. What had she said? Had she said yes? No, not yes... But she wanted to learn. Yeah, that was it. She wanted to learn. Had she answered his question he'd asked the girl? What was her name? Had she said it, had she even heard? Had he even said it aloud? Words started pouring from his mouth before he could stop them.

"Go home," he commanded her. "Get some rest, get someone to fix your shoulder and be back here on Monday at eight in the morning. Don't tell anyone about me or I'll kill you." He wasn't going to say his name. No, he was smarter than that. His mind might be in a million places at the second, but that was instinct - it was natural. But so was being alone. Wishing he hadn't just done what he just had, Ryan spun to his feet, holding his wounded hand close to himself, and paced into the woods. Going until the girl couldn't see him, he stopped, turned, and came back slowly. He had to follow her home, just to see where she lived. He would need to know where to go in case she didn't come when he'd told her to. He'd probably set the place on fire if she didn't come; just to tell her that it wasn't a good idea to defy him. He wouldn't hurt her, or whoever she lived with - she had to live with someone, she was ten! - unless she really crossed him.

[Augustus is a SWOObat]

Willow noticed how he didn't tell her his name. It figured. Willow knew he was lethal. He probably wasn't on the right side of the law, not like her father, but Willow didn't like her father. She wasn't even on the right side of the law to begin with, admittedly not as bad as her new teacher. He left before she could say anything else. Getting up? That was going to be hard. Now Willow was glad he left. This wasn't going to be easy and there was no way she could do it with grace. She struggled and by the time she was up she was out of breath and shaky. How was she suppose to get home if she could hardly stand up? It didn't stop her from trying. Willow was stubborn and she was tired of being limited. Her body was tiny and couldn't handle the pain no matter how much she wanted it to. She blocked it all out. Willow walked just like she would if she didn't have a four inch gash on her shoulder. She didn't slow her pace or anything.

Willow tried to focus on something else. Her teacher was what distracted her most. He didn't seem like the type to help, so she couldn't really fathom why he'd offer to teach her. She hadn't been impressive at all, no technique, just brutal strength. It seemed like all her strength had drained away. Finally, she relented. Willow stopped on her way to.. where? She just needed to catch her breath. She leaned against the wall and panted. A few beads of sweat were on her forehead. Her body was so cold. Willow wondered if it had anything to do with her lack of blood. The pause was for three reasons. She needed to breath. She need to think, and She needed to warm up. Willow rubbed her wounded arm gently, trying to get enough friction to heat up. She need to know where she was going. At first, Willow thought she'd just go to the clinic and skip the part where she went home and got fussed over, but that clearly wasn't an option. The clinic was twice as far as her house. As much as she hated it, she needed her father. Willow had needed him before, but it didn't mean he had been there.

It took her forever, but she finally got home. Willow didn't like taking orders, almost as much as she didn't like needing people, but she needed her teacher. It felt like she was suddenly getting weaker, or maybe she was just realizing how weak she was. She needed to rely on so many people. It was an unfamiliar feeling. She didn't like it very much. Especially since she couldn't be sure the people she needed would be there for her. The only reason she was doing what her teacher told her to do, because she didn't want to upset him. Not at this point. She needed him, and she'd do whatever he says until she doesn't. Willow didn't see her dad's car in the driveway, which was bad. She struggled to open the door and as soon as it swung open she could see the lights in the living room were out, but that didn't mean a thing. The lights in the living room were always off. He was either at work or in his study. "..D-dad?" Willow wouldn't do well if he was at work. Her shoulder had stopped bleeding, but she had no idea what to do with it. She had lost the feeling in her fingertips. When she was younger, she always wished her father home, and as she got older the wishing stopped. History started to repeat itself.

[Waddle]

She was strong. She had a lot of potential. And she was young. Ryan saw a future for that girl, a future against the law. With him for a time, then on her own. That would take time. Time he might not have. And why would he want the competition anyway? He'd always gotten rid of his competition. A few seconds later, he decided some competition might even add to his income. He would probably need to make a solid base of customers, a loyal band of advisors... He stopped himself right there. That would end him. Things would go horribly wrong, and he would end up dead. That, or worse. He didn't want to dwell on the worse possibilities. They sent shivers down his spine when he did think on them.

She repeatedly disappeared from his sight. It didn't matter though. Her blood was enough for him to follow her by. There, on a leaf she'd brushed against. There, two droplets that had run from the wound, down her fingers and onto the ground. He admired her strength. She was so small, she'd lost so much blood already. Her body was surely shutting down, slowly. This was the perfect test for her. Physically and mentally. Though he didn't know how to judge a ten year old's physical abilities, he estimated her to be just what he had been looking for. Looking for? What the hell? I wasn't looking for anything, or anyone. I was just relaxing.[/i] Still. He'd learned to make the best of the situation he was in, though he rarely followed through with that philosophy.

He followed her to the housing district of Noatak. There was a brief moment when his heart fluttered - Did she live with the South African cop and his strange friend? Surely not. No, no, no. If she did, Ryan would feel guilty about torturing the cop. Willow was almost the same age as his son had been, before Ryan had his gang burn down their house and killing both the kid and the woman. Adopting a child didn't seem like a strange thing for the man to do. He was probably lonely, the sudden absence of his family like a hole inside of him. Ryan had thought that hole would have been filled with the strange friend, and the doctor friend. But neither of them were children. Ryan suspected that not much could fill that hole, if there was one. He didn't understand it, but he'd encountered those who did before.

Then she walked past it. Ryan ducked behind the house and padded through the backyard. No one appeared to be home. It didn't matter anyway; Ryan was not concerned about them. He hopped the fence into Willow's backyard and strode over to the window. Through the closed blinds, he couldn't see anything, but he heard her say something, probably calling for someone.

Gibbs hadn't been home long, and he was currently in his study. He wasn't studying anything. He was doing pull ups on the door facing. The study had two parts. Both were small, but one was his actually study, and the other was his workout room. The wall dividing them made the perfect place for him to do pull ups on. When he heard the weak, stammered call of 'Dad?', he knew something was horribly wrong. He dropped to the ground, grabbed his shirt and pulled it on as he rushed downstairs. Willow never called for him, especially not with that voice. Of course, she might have called every day she walked in, but he just didn't hear it because he wasn't there. He shook his head and swung the door open.

"Willow?" he called as he came down the stairs quickly. His eyes went wide when he saw her. She was bloody, and looked so tired. "Willow...!" He tried to find words, any words. He couldn't find the words to scold her, nor ones to comfort her. Her only put one hand on her good side and guided her to the couch, then ran into the kitchen, opening one cabinet after the other. Finally, he found the medical kit he'd hidden there just for a situation like this. Though, he had to admit, he had never expected for the wounded one to be Willow. He came back to her and unwrapped the wound. The question of the cloth never came to his head because he was so intent upon the wound.

Roughly four inches, not something that would kill a grown up, but very well could have killed a little girl. He finally found words as he gave a small, humorless chuckle. "You did a great job bandaging this up."[/b] He wasn't thinking that well. She would've never been able to make that bandage by herself. But he wouldn't realize that for a while now. He ran a clean cloth around the wound to dislodge any debris caught in it. "This will sting," he warned her, right before he shook up a small bottle, uncapped it and tipped the contents onto the wound to sterilize it. Stitching the wound was a simple matter. He'd done this before. As he was halfway through with it, he asked the question that he had to have answered. He asked her what had happened. He was careful to not seem too demanding, though he knew she would probably just defy him and refuse to answer.[/size]

[Augustus is a SWOObat]

Was her dad home or was she just imagining it? It sounded like him, but the loss of blood could have left her delusional. Willow would never admit it out loud, but she was so glad her father was home. It had taken 10 years, but he was finally here when she wanted him to be. His worry was embarrassing, but it was also a little reassuring. There were three of him. Today was getting better and better. She got a teacher. She got a father. Better, she got three. They started to swim, and their voices were muffled. The dads talked simultaneously. It was actually kind of freaky. Willow had no idea what they were saying. It felt like her head was underwater and that the sound her fathers were making were traveling from millions of miles away.

This didn't sting at all. It felt good, sort of. It prevented her from blacking out. Nothing would feel as bad as her teachers fingers in her flesh. This was nothing in comparison. Willow closed her eyes. Her three fathers were starting to give her a headache. She was so tempted to just go to sleep. Willow was covered in dirt, murky water, and blood. Sleep could make it go away, but there was the chance she wouldn't wake up. Wearily, she made the conscious decision to stay awake.

Thom saw Willow walk into her house, but she didn't look to good. He had the slight suspicion she had said something nasty to one of the bigger kids at school and got beaten up. It wouldn't be the first time. With his terrible eyesight, he hadn't seen how bad it actually was. Thomas walked in the house, not bothering to knock. It's not like he had anything to be afraid of. Willow's scary dog-father was never home, and Willow had learned to tolerate Thomas. One glance at the bloody mess and Thomas realized how bad an idea it was to check on her. Suddenly, his pitch-black eyes rolled up into the back of his head. His eyelids fluttered for a second, showing nothing but the whites of his eyes. With a thud, he hit the floor.

[Waddle]

Was she going into shock? Normally, the sting and tug of cleaning and stitching a wound would keep the wounded awake, but Gibbs was certain for a few seconds that she was about to slump over on the couch. Then she visibly steadied herself. Pride flooded Gibbs, and the corners of his mouth rose just a little. She was strong, and she was going to go places in life. Then the smile faded. The only way she was like this was because he was never around. She had had to get strong. That, or possibly die. Self-scolding no longer made Gibbs feel guilty, but this, his wounded daughter who was still conscious, did make him ashamed. He shook his head quickly. Now was not the time to think on it. It was a miracle that he was here. Pure coincidence. Maybe luck had turned its favor on them. Someone, or something, surely had. Gibbs wasn't and had never been a religious man, but he thought he might ought to start saying some prayers.

Outside the window, Ryan watched the man rush to his girl and begin working. His eyes narrowed and he frowned. This man knew what he was doing, though it was a way familiar to Ryan. It took several seconds for him to figure it out, and he still didn't. Nedd was the one who whispered it. The Army. That was the exact way they had taught soldiers to clean a wound in the Army. There were subtle difference, but it was noticeable to Ryan's eyes. Curiosity and wariness both peaked, Ryan moved from the window and easily climbed up the brick wall to the second story window, where the man had come from. The first window he encountered was in a hallway. Wall crawling to the next one, Ryan looked in on what must have been Willow's bedroom. Very nice and tidy, but not perfection. He nodded satisfaction and went to the next window. It was closed to where he couldn't see in at all. The next one was the same. And the next one. Ryan hopped down and landed gently on bare feet, then glanced down at his leg. He'd forgotten about it completely, and had torn the wound open again. Warm blood trickled down to the grass. He considered cleaning it up, then decided to not to. A little blood didn't matter. It wasn't going to give him away. He looked back into the window just in time to see Thomas Harper, the strange friend, hit the ground, unconscious.

Gibbs looked up as a figure blocked out the light coming in from the open door. It was his neighbor. Something Harper. Gibbs didn't care to remember his first name. It was the one that lived with Volschenk from the station. Or maybe Volschenk lived with Harper. That, like the first names, didn't matter. Especially not now. Harper collapsed and Gibbs just turned back to Willow. When he spoke, he hoped his worry didn't show through his voice, and that his smile didn't look fake or forced. "Guess who you're going to see. Dr. Robins!" He may have stitched the wound up pretty well, but that didn't mean she was alright. He'd known she might not have made the drive to the clinic with an open wound, even if it was well bandaged. Gently, careful of her arm, he picked her up and stepped over Harper and glanced to where his car should have been. It wasn't there, and he remembered it was in the shop. He cursed under his breath. The one time he actually needed it... Maybe luck wasn't looking down on them after all.

He locked and closed the door. Harper wasn't a problem. When he woke up, he could easily unlock the door and walk home. No, the real problem lay in getting Willow to the clinic and soon. He didn't waste time pondering and set out on foot, picking his pace up to a jog. It wasn't too far to the clinic, but it would've been easier, faster and safer to take the car. Ah, well. He did what he could.

Watching the man and Willow leave, Ryan was overcome by a strange feeling he'd known before. Suddenly, his limbs didn't belong to himself. They felt like lead at his side, and though, when he looked down, he could see his fingers moving, he knew it wasn't he who was moving them. He reeled mentally, then tried to fight. It was easy to take back control of himself, and he heard a small, frightened whimper. "I'm sorry! Just- please... Can you go check on him?" It was the girl. Nedd's girl. She was worried about Thomas Harper. And she was scared he was going to hurt her. How could he hurt a voice in his head? He glanced around nervously, looking for one of the apparitions, but no one else was there. Shaking his head, he rubbed his temples. "Why should I?" Please. Ryan was reminded of a small, baby deer, and nodded slowly. "Alright."

It was easy to open the window. It was locked from the inside, but Ryan had his ways. He slipped through the now open window easily and walked over to Thomas. Crouching, he shook his shoulder. "Thomas. Hey, Harper. Wake up, you pansy."[/b][/size]