Chapter 9

It was silent for a beat.

The dull hum of the water heater filled my ears. The warm stuffy feel of the basement pervaded my skin, and my legs were falling asleep from sitting awkwardly on my pool table.

Sarah Gale had just asked me to claim her.

Half a minute passed, and thousands of thoughts ricochet around inside my head. But one singular one came to the forefront.

What she had just said turned me on ... and that worried me.

As a modern man I wasn't supposed to think of women as slaves or inferior things ... but the thought of having such ... control ... over a woman was ... intoxicating.

Not to mention completely out of the question.

An entire minute ticked by. Sarah still kneeled in front of me. Her face held no emotion but that of complete supplication. She was panting slightly ... I could see her nipples tenting her pink blouse.

I shook free of my disturbing thoughts, and found my voice.

"Sarah..." I said. "Sarah, get up. You're not thinking clearly ... Come on, I know it's still early but I'm sure we're both tired. Let's get you to bed." I watched Sarah's face slowly turn crimson.

She was on her feet so fast I couldn't see her move.

"What the FUCK have you done to ME?" She screamed at the top of her voice.

I was glad we were in the basement; otherwise the neighbors call the cops for a domestic dispute. Sarah seemed to go from embarrassment to anger rather quickly.

"Don't you think that for a second you should read anything into that little ... that little ... EPISODE!" She yelled. Her hair was messy, and her eyes were livid, even though they were filled with moisture.

I simply nodded dumbly.

Sarah took a deep breath. She still looked me suspiciously, as if daring me to comment on her 'little episode.' She kept her eyes on my face for a second ... then nodded. "Good." She said. "Obviously this is all your fault anyway for imprinting yourself on an honest to god 'MIND CONTROL' chip. But if you think for a second that that was the real me you smug bastard then you've got another thing coming. I in no way wanted to act like that..." She stopped speaking mid sentence. Her eyes closed shut and her mouth turned down as if she were in pain. Her hands shot up and clutched her head ... She moaned so quietly I could barely hear her... "My head..." she hissed softly.

I hopped off the table to help. I grabbed her head under her chin and tried to raise her face to mine.

"Are you okay Sarah?" I asked.

She shook her head ... and winced. "No ... can't think ... my head is killing me." Suddenly she jerked her head away from my hands. With a moan she collapsed onto her hands and knees, and threw up all over my basement floor. The putrid smell of sick filled the warm air of the underground room ... I slowly moved next to her, and knelt down. Sarah collapsed face down onto the floor next to her puddle ... coming dangerously close to getting her hair dirty.

I put a hand on her and started to softly caress her back. I could feel her diaphragm shaking.

Quietly she began to cry.

Time passed ... and I did nothing but keep my hand calmly rested upon her back.

Eventually Sarah stopped sobbing. She was now taking even deep breaths and her eyes were closed.

She had fallen asleep.

Gently, so as not to wake her, I slowly eased her up into my arms. I carefully walked up the basement stairs and the first floor stairs. I awkwardly turned the door knob to the guest room with Sarah still sleeping quietly in my arms.

I stole my way inside the now dark room and lowered her onto the bed. I contemplated taking her clothes off, but when I found they were free of vomit I decided that doing so would not help either of our causes. Instead of putting her under the covers I simply untucked the bed spread and wrapped her in it. She ended up looking like a baby in a bundle.

Her young pale face looked untroubled in sleep. Her red hair fell back in a glorious mane on the bed. She breathed slowly and rhythmically.

I silently eased my way out of the guestroom. Like a parent with a child I found myself wishing her good night as I eased the door closed.

It felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders ... but I'm sure everyone has had that thought at some time. I staggered down the stairs to the first floor, and dragged myself into the kitchen. I felt so ... tired.

So very tired.

I hadn't been sleeping well all this week. I had forgone rest in order to collect my facts on the UniCORP investigation ... and then there had been last night ... I don't think I've have ever been that drunk.

I grabbed a dish towel from a drawer and put it in the sink, and started soaking it in hot water. Then I grabbed some disinfectant and a trash bag.

I turned the sink off and grabbed the cloth.

With my cleaning supplies in hand I walked out of the kitchen and started my way back down the stairs to the basement.

The smell had gotten much worse in my absence.

I could barely feel my feet as I trudged up the stairs to my bedroom. The disadvantage to my house is stairs. There are a lot of them ... I peeked into Sarah's room as I reached the first floor. It was dark and she was breathing normally.

I felt ... odd.

Normally I didn't like caring for anyone but myself. I put on a smile and a brave face for those at the office, but one of the reasons I liked being an officer of the law was the lack of people I had to deal with on a personal level.

Not having many non FBI friends was hard ... but I've never been good with people. With the FBI I know where I stand. If I'm 'interacting' with someone it is either because we are brothers in arms, or I'm slapping handcuffs on them...