Chapter 5

She was as beautiful as I remembered.

Jim was listening intently to Dr. Thompson read things off of a clipboard.

But that didn't matter. Their conversation was lost to me. My entire consciousness was focused on the red haired angel tied to the gurney positioned in the middle of the room.

She was sleeping quietly. Her stomach rose and fell in a calm rhythmic manner. Her eyelids would occasionally flutter, and her slim pale face looked slightly pinched, as if her dreams were not gentle ones.

Dried tears clung to her face. Her flowing long hair was frizzy and tangled. She wore a little gown that hospitals gave out. This one had little flowered patterns on them, and tied at the back.

Jim asked me a question ... I didn't hear it.

I shook my head and looked at Jim.

"Sorry, what?" I said.

Jim used his thumb to point over his shoulder at the sleeping girl.

"Sorry Jim, I was somewhere else, what did you say?"

"The girl, John, the girl, Thompson says it's okay to wake her. I'd like you to talk to her; she's closer to your age."

I looked at the sleeping girl. She looked young. Maybe even teenager young.

"How old is she anyway?"

Jim took the clip board from Thompson.

"Her profile here says her name is Sarah Gale. She's nineteen years old and a resident of the United Kingdom."

"So we have a British teenager on our hands?" I asked, trying desperately to keep the quiver out of my voice.

"Looks like."

I swallowed hard. This would have to happen sometime, might as well be now.

"Wake her up Dr. Thompson." I said halfheartedly.

Thompson nodded.

He reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a stick of Loxicodile. It was sort of like an old fashion glow stick. You bend it until you hear a crack. However, once cracked, a white gas pours out of either side, and when inhaled it could practically wake the dead. Policemen carry them in their belts these days to wake up drunks. They're called 'Jump Starters' on the streets.

Thompson walked cautiously over to the sleeping girl. He tenderly felt her pulse. Her chest continued to rise and fall; she was dead to the world.

I personally thought waking her up with Loxicodile was a bit extreme.

"Why do we need a Jump Starter to wake her? Couldn't we just shake her or something?" I asked.

Thompson shook his head.

"This girl isn't in an ordinary sleep. She passed out from over exertion."

Thompson cracked the stick, and little tendrils of smoke began to seep out. I suddenly felt very hyper and jittery simply from inhaling two feet away. I'd hate to feel a full dose of the stuff.

Sarah jerked awake. A small scream played at the corner of her lips, and her eyes were wild and unseeing.

Jim was looking at me expectantly.

He wanted me to comfort her ... It was standard procedure with trauma patients.

I slowly maneuvered myself past Thompson and positioned myself next to Sarah, who was breathing erratically, with her eyes half open.

By law I wasn't allowed to touch her without her permission.

"Shhh, Sarah. Shh. It's alright. You're safe now. You're in the FBI building in New York. UniCORP has been caught. They won't ever do what they did to you again."

There was a pause. I noticed her breathing slowed to a more normal pace.

Slowly she said. "I know that voice."

She spoke with a British accent that I didn't notice in the warehouse. It sounded upper class, as if she was someone out of those old movies about Victorian age England.

Her eyes opened fully, and she looked at me.

They were sparkling green. Like a field of grass during a bright spring day.

"It's you." She said weakly. Her lips played upwards into a slight smile.

"I'm glad you're here ... maybe the headaches will ... stop ... now..." Her eyes gently closed. Her face settled into a peaceful expression of content.

I nervously glanced over my shoulder at Thompson and Jim. They were both staring at me. Jim was the first to find his voice.

"Jonathan ... when you bought one of the girls ... you failed to mention that you bonded with one of them." Jim's voice was cold and icy. Very much like the voice he used during particularly troublesome interrogations.

I wished I could sink into the floor.

"Well, I didn't know at the time ... what they ... were ... going to do." I finished lamely.

Jim was cradling his hands in his hands, while Dr. Thompson, who looked more interested than horrified, was furiously taking notes on his little pad. Finally Jim raised his head and looked at me.

He sighed. "I have to tell Jones, Jonathan. You probably won't get into any trouble, but you'll probably be taken off the case. Great Scott! This is awful."

Suddenly he burst out laughing.

I didn't see what was so funny.

"I don't see how this is anything to laugh at Jim."

Jim was wiping tears from his eyes. "Well Jon, I was just thinking about how you are going to deal with this. I've never met a person more awkward around girls than you." His voice was strained. I could tell he was dying to have another good chuckle.

"Thanks Jim." I said sarcastically. At least he wasn't looking at me like some monster.

The chuckle burst through. He was laughing again. This time is was harder than before.