InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Cold ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )
Chapter Two
February 21, 4035
Trapped beneath dead weight, Kagome struggled to breathe.
“Hey,” she forced out, slapping a bit frantically at his broad shoulder, “roll over….I can’t breathe.”
He didn’t move.
Didn’t respond.
Rapidly running out of air, she summoned what was left of her strength and shoved at his chest. Grunting with effort, Kagome pushed hard at his torso, straining to create enough space for her to wiggle out from beneath him. It was long, tedious battle, and her arms ached by the time she was free. Out of breath and shaky with exertion, Kagome sucked in several stabilizing breaths. She mopped sweat from her brow then scrunched her nose in distaste. The thin fabric of her shirt was sticky with blood, and the warm liquid had soaked through to her bare flesh. Dirty, sweaty and sorely out of shape judging by the heaving of her chest, Kagome silently struggled to pour strength into limbs that felt like jelly. She felt ready for nap rather than forcing her body to move again. The call of sleep would have to wait, however. Physical fitness or lack thereof, there was still an unconscious male bleeding all over her floor to deal with.
Strengthening her resolve, and shoving aside thoughts of exhaustion and the discomfort of the wet mess plastering her shirt to her skin, Kagome rolled to her knees and crawled over to the alien she’d brought inside her home. Gripping one brawny shoulder, she set about the grueling task of turning him on his back.
She didn’t have the energy or strength to be gentle.
He flopped over hard enough to draw a concerned grimace from her, but his sleeping expression remained clear of signs of pain.
Kagome sighed, wiped sweat from her brow then rose on achy feet. She crossed the room and trekked into the kitchen for a basin. Seconds later, and with a container in hand, she hurried into the hall bathroom. She returned to the living room with a wash cloth, hot water, bandages and a curerator. Setting her burdens on the floor, she knelt at his side. Flipping the curerator to the end that held a small opening, Kagome pressed the sleek, pen shaped metal against his neck. The object hissed, signaling the activation of a hypodermic needle and the release of a moderate amount of sanative tonic.
That would stop the bleeding and speed his recovery.
She hoped.
It wasn’t the best healing applicator but it was the strongest one she had on hand. She looked down at his sleeping face.
His even features were symmetrical and well shaped. His lips were soft looking, but turned down as though he frown more often than not. His nose was of average size, but boasted an aristocratic upturn at the tip. Silky magenta stripes graced his cheek bones, and a navy blue crescent moon stood out in the middle of his forehead, just above his neatly trimmed dark eyebrows. Damp silver hair lay plastered to his tanned, but slightly pale, skin. His ears were long and curved into points like the elfin people of Galdialan. Though considering his height and bulk, he definitely wasn’t apart of the tiny Galdialan breed.
What such a handsome creature was doing at her front door, battered and bloody, was a mystery.
She shifted her focus to his wet clothing and could tell right away that his clothes were a lot different than her own. The blaster holes were still present in his shirt, a clear indication that he wasn’t wearing clothing weaved with nanonites. Nanonites not only provided instantaneous outfit changes, they also stitched together rips and tears. It was weird and highly unusual to see someone favoring clothing not weaved with nanonites. Even someone of her limited funds had saved up to purchase the convenient technology for both her and Sota, though, in her little brother’s case, she hadn’t really had a choice. Sota was rough on clothes.
Surprisingly, the long dark coat her injured alien wore was bone dry, as thought it was made from the same material her umbrella used to repel water, but it felt softer and certainly more durable.
She grabbed one of his arms and and began tugging the slackened appendage from the sleeve of his jacket. After freeing it, she wrestled with the other. His limbs were heavy and muscled beneath the silkiness of his dark, long sleeved shirt. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to lift him and pull the shirt over his head, she left to fetch a pair of scissors. Starting at the hem, she snipped open the soft fabric, exposing tanned flesh and the hard muscled plains of his chest and abdomen. His smooth skin was marred by three vicious looking battle scars, one of which stretched across his pecs, while the other two lay along the left side of his ribcage. Vivid tattoos decorated his left arm, depicting a stunning image of a gigantic, silvery canine specter. Mouth open, teeth gleaming, the illustration extended from wrist to shoulder and winded up the side of his neck. Curved and graceful fluffy clouds wrapped around his wrist and inner arm. Intricate glyphs, foreign words and vicious beasts decorated his left side, the twisting patterns stretching down past the waistband of his pants.
The right side of his obliques held a small spattering of circular wounds, and was smeared in a thick coat of crimson. The blackened holes, the result of being on the wrong end of a blaster, were charred around the edges and oozed dark red blood. Judging from the old scars, this guy was no stranger to violence. There wasn’t much she could do besides cleaning and bandaging. She only hoped the tonic would keep him from expiring on her living room floor. Dipping the cloth into the heated purple water, she dabbed at the holes in his body. Keeping her touch gentle and her hand steady, she moped up the blood then carefully wiped away the burned flesh surrounding the ports of entry. After cleaning his torso, and patting him dry, she opened a wide adhesive bandages and stuck them to the open wounds, wincing in sympathy as she did so.
Satisfied with her patch job, she picked up her rag again and applied it to his face. She cleaned away the blood on his lip and the cut at his temple. Once finished, she contemplated his pants. She couldn’t very well leave any possible injury unattended, but she didn’t feel comfortable pulling his pants off while he was unconscious. While her views on intimacy weren’t particularly conservative, something she shared with most of the known universe in this day and age, something about invading his privacy, or anyone else for that matter, made her a tad bit uncomfortable despite these unusual circumstances.
Within her spotty recollections of days past were scenes of another time period in which she herself had been unable to claim privacy. A time in which she’d lived within the four corners of a mind-numbingly empty room beneath the unblinking stare of cameras.
Shaking her head, Kagome dispelled the dangerous path her thoughts had taken.
Now was not the time to open that disquieting box of torment. This was different. This was a matter of life and death, completely different from what lay in the obscure pit that was her memory. Stiffening her spine, she wrapped herself in confidence.
She reached out, hands and gaze hovering at the fastening of his pants. She hesitated as heat bloomed in her cheeks.
‘Get it together girl!’ she urged herself, fighting the reddening of her face.
She was twenty-two years old for goodness sake!
And this wasn’t a violation, she was a good Samaritan.
Releasing a breath, she reached for his belt.
A rough hand seized her wrist. His grip was akin to iron and nearly painful even in his weakened state. Shocked, terrified, her wide gaze shot to his face. Frigid golden depths ensnared her own. His eyes were cold, frighteningly empty and calculating. A tiny green light flashed behind his shifting irises. Unable to tear her eyes away, she fell into the trap hidden within that twinkling fluorescent. His inner computer reached out to her own followed swiftly by a cybernetic jolt that had her pulling at her captured hand. She knew her firewalls and virtual protections were not only up to date, but properly function and she was damn certain she hadn’t initiated contact nor received any request from him.
But there was no mistaking it.
The connection was definitely there. She could feel his presence creeping through her defenses, invading her mental space and ploughing into the privacy of artificial self. To have him that deep into her system so quickly was stunning. Her dark brows drew down in outraged horror, and icy fear churned in her gut.
This man, whoever he was, whatever he was, was packing top notch technology.
Government type machinery to be able to barrel through her safety guards in the blink of an eye and without a physical link to her system. She clenched her teeth as he sifted through her information files, siphoning data while she worked vigorously to repel his unwanted intrusion. Infuriated to no end that instead of asking, he was ransacking her database, and downloading what he wanted.
Kagome initiated her back up, slamming down mental walls against further probing.
His invasion halted.
She glared at him, daring him to make one wrong move as she monitored his retreat. She’d have mace in his eyes and a blade at his throat if he even breathed wrong. She had helped him even though she didn’t have to, had brought him into her home instead of leaving him to bleed to death out in the pouring rain and if he repaid that kindness with treachery she’d do her damnedest to end him.
He blinked, the green light disappeared and his presence in her mind dissipated.
He released her, and the tension eased.
Rubbing her mistreated wrist, she scowled down at him with the full brunt of the anger crashing through her veins.
“Don’t you ever invade my system like that again!” she raged at him, sitting up on her knees,“I don’t know who you think you are but you have no right to go through my files like that! You may be injured, but don’t think I won’t haul your ass right back outside!”
Chest heaving, face red, Kagome glared even harder into those amber depths. He stared back at her, his arctic gaze unimpressed and unrepentant. His eyes were calculating, defiant and she wondered if he was debating whether or not to say something rude.
She wished he would.
He’d leave here more batter than he had arrived.
Instead of replying, his amber eyes shifted, taking in his surroundings with silent contemplation.
“Where am I?” he questioned.
His deep voice was low and dispassionate, the sound sending a chill down her spine. Shrugging off the the sensation, she frowned down at him. Still miffed about his earlier intrusion, she answered a bit harshly.
“My house.”
Sharp honey orbs returned to her face.
“Coordinates.”
No way she was giving him that information, he could damn well use his fancy computer system and find out himself.
“You’re in Denvious, Terkria.” she responded vaguely.
He blinked again, eyes like glaciers.
“Planet.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Rektan 7.”
His silver brow crinkled slightly. She got the sense he was not pleased with the news. He looked around the room again, specifically the exits in view.
“Are you in some kind of trouble?” she asked, not in the mood to beat around the bush.
His gaze moved back to her, detached and assessing.
“My ship was attacked by space bandits. My escape pod crash landed here.”
A dark brow rose.
She didn’t buy it for a second.
The words sounded scripted and weren’t supported by any evidence. Had there been a crash in her area, an alert would have been sent out. One did not crash on a planet as advanced as Rektan 7 without anyone knowing.
She held her tongue.
Whatever he was embroiled in, the less she knew the better. She had more than enough on her own plate and damn sure didn’t need more.
“You can stay here until you’re well enough to leave, but after that, out of here,” she informed him, “I don’t need any trouble.”
He watched her, and she got the feeling that he was as unimpressed with her decree as he was with her earlier enraged tirade.
Fine with her.
He’d see how funny it was when she tossed him out on his pretty little butt.
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