[A Random Kidnapping](1){WTF?!}

//Airell's POV//

"Really, Airell, stop pacing around like that."

I ignored him and continued pacing back and forth, back and forth, trying to calm myself down. Quite obviously, it wasn't working. I've been doing it for the past three days. During those three days, only one thought had even passed my mind (besides, of course, the regular thoughts you have while you're doing something mundane, like eating...).

I could still see her face when the bullet hit her. The shock, the pain...it bothered me. Too much. I hated it. Dammit, why couldn't she have just stayed behind that corner?! The little idiot! Why is she always so impulsive?! That ridiculous little girl! She better not be...

"Airell."

This time I decided to humor him. I stopped, lifting my head to look at my father. Actually, it was more of a glare than a look. His expression was impassive...like it was ever anything else. Well, rarely, anyway. The damned bastard.

He ignored my glare, gesturing his right hand toward the seat across from him, "Sit down, Airell."

I just stared at him, clenching my fists to release tension. I stood there defiantly. He's treating me like a child again...I hate it when he does that. I'm twenty-one for crying out loud.

His eyes narrowed at my defiance, "Sit. Down."

He's too easy to piss off. At least Tabitha tries to pretend that I don't bother her...dammit, I just thought about her again. Shit.

I roughly pulled the chair across from my father out from underneath the table, turning it so that it faced away from him, and sat down. My nails dug into the wood of the chair's arms, I probably even had a few splinters from it.

"You need to calm down, Airell," I could feel his eyes staring at me as he spoke. I tried to ignore the surge of anger that flared through me. He seemed to realize I wasn't going to say anything to that.

"How is Beau?" he asked politely, though I knew he didn't really care. Just trying to distract me, probably.

I let out the breath I had been unconciously holding in, "He's fine. A few broken bones, a concussion, but he'll be fine." He better be...he's the only friend I have. That's sad, the only friend I have is my employee. I need to remember to kick Vincent's ass the next time I see him...bastard.

It was silent after that. I figured that my father couldn't think of another way to distract me/piss me off yet, so I tried to ignore his presence for awhile. Not exactly an easy thing to do, considering he usually demands your attention, but this time he seems to be preoccupied with thoughts of his own so it's a little bit easier.

I wonder if Tabitha could have been my friend under different circumstances...and maybe if I hadn't shot her. Maybe we would have been the type of friends who enjoy annoying the piss out of eachother. We do that already, anyway...well, actually I do that to her, she tries to annoy me and it doesn't work. It's cute how she thinks she can outwit me. Ha! Like that'll ever happen. When I see her again--well, if I see her again...

And just like that, it all began to flash through my mind again. My gun facing toward her as the bullet was shot. The look of pain and shock when it hit her shoulder. The bitter feeling in my stomach when I watched her face pale from the blood loss. The way my heart nearly stopped when she hit the ground, completely motionless. How I continued to stare at the blood on the ground where she lay, even after Jason took her away; even after I had dropped the gun at my feet. The fear. The fear that she may be...

My fingers began to shake, so badly that I clenched them against the arms of the seat tightly in order to make it stop. My fingers were tingling from the pressure.

My fingers felt numb, I could barely tell whether I was still clenching onto the chair or not. I took a deep breath, willing my fingers to pry loose.

I clenched my teeth together tightly. Dammit, why?! Why couldn't she have just stayed behind that goddamned corner?!! That's the whole damn reason why Jason stuck her back there in the first place! Why is she such a damned moron?! That girl will be the death of me...

Why do I even care?!

"Airell."

I took another deep, shakey breath before I looked back at my father. He had that look again...the look that told you he was studying you. It pisses me off. I was glowering at him without even realizing it.

"What, Cradock?"

He scowled--he detests it when others call their parents by their first names--but he quickly regained his composure. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs and stilling gazing at me with that studious look.

"You're thinking about her, aren't you?"

I snapped. I have no idea why exactly his words set me off, but they did. I practically jumped off the chair, then turned and kicked it with enough force to send it smashing against the wall, two of the legs snapping off in the process. I glared at him, feeling the strongest urge to just jump at him and beat in that damned expressionless face of his.

"OF COURSE I'M THINKING ABOUT HER!!" I shouted, feeling my anger flaming inside of me, "I FUCKING SHOT HER!! WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO THINK ABOUT WHEN SHE'S OUT THERE AND SHE...and she could be...she could be..."

My voice gave out by then, unable to finish the sentence. I stared blankly down at the ground, panting from the rage I had just used up. I glanced at my fingers; they were covered in splinters from the chair, a little bit of blood had been drawn from them.

Cradock interrupted my thoughts.

"Yes, there is a possibility that she's dead," I felt my hands clench into tight fists at that, "However, it's highly unlikely. After all, it was in the shoulder. I'm sure even Oran can afford a professional that can take out a bullet and bind a wound." His face looked thoughtful for a moment, "Maybe her wrist as well."

That threw me off. What?

"What are you talking about?" I stared at him uncertainly.

He looked at me like I'd just asked the most idiotic question imaginable, "I'm talking about her wrist."

"Yes, I got that..." I nearly hissed, "But what about her wrist?"

"Oh, it's broken."

My jaw dropped, "What?! When did that happen?"

"That morning I took her to a closed off room to talk," he explained while examining his nails, "She got angry and slammed her fist on the coffee table--"

"She broke her wrist by slamming it onto the coffee table?!" That just seemed ridiculous.

He scowled at me, "No. Don't interrupt, that's rude. When she hit the coffee table, it broke in half. I was curious about how strong her bones and muscles were, so I just took her wrist and snapped it."

My jaw dropped again, "...you...you broke her wrist..?"

He shrugged, "Yes...it was surprisingly easy. Like breaking a twig in half. She's a frail little thing."

Within the next second I had him by collar of his shirt, glowering at him in rage.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I was shaking again, but I ignored it, "You sick bas--"

He backhanded me smartly across the face, sending my head to the side from the force of it and making me let go of his shirt. We both glared at eachother venomously, not an ounce of anger was hidden by either of us. It was hard to say who looked more threatening, considering I couldn't see myself.

Suddenly, Cradock relaxed. He sat back down, looking back up at me with a mocking smile.

"It's good that you're so bent on taking care of her," he mused, "You'll have to once you're married."

"I am not going to marry Tabitha," I hissed through clenched teeth, "She's too young. She's only fifteen, she's not even legal yet."

Cradock rolled his eyes (a strange sight to see), "Oh, please. Your mother was just as young when she was pregnant with you."

"THAT DOES NOT MAKE IT OK!"

His face became serious as his gaze penetrated through me, "...why is it that you're so protective of her, Airell?"

That threw me. I couldn't think of an answer. I just stared at him, knowing that he could see the confusion that was on my face. He smiled.

"Think about that."

He stood up, turning away from me and walking away, ending the conversation. He left me alone in the room to ponder around my thoughts.

Why? Why was I so protective? Why did I even care about her so much? I saw her face in my mind's eye, saw the way it changed when she was thinking about something, saw one of the small smiles that would flash on her face when she thought she was being clever.

I could see the way her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed when she glared at me, making her look more adorable than menacing. Saw how she bit her knuckles when she became bored...saw how her face became so distant when she pulled into her mind...saw the small flash of green in her eyes...

I remembered how nice it was to listen to her voice...even when cursing, it sounded nice...remembered how lovely her laugh was, though it was rare that she did laugh. I could hear how she mumbled lightly in her sleep sometimes...could still see how peaceful she looked curled up on her side...remembered how calm and beautiful her face looked when she was lying undisturbed in her sleep...

I could hear her voice...and it suddenly being silence by a gunshot.

I was frozen. My heart beat had increased dramatically as realization started to come to me. I could only hear a strange pounding now. I felt my eyes widen.

No.

I stumbled backward, my hand fumbling behind me in search of something to sit on. I found a chair, and slumped down hard on it. My eyes were still wide, I stared at nothing and tried desperately to deny it in my mind.

I can't! There's no way I can...I just can't!! She's too young! Tabitha's ridiculous, impulsive, annoying, completely disrespects me, has no manners at all, doesn't act at all like a girl should...

But she's intelligent, funny, independent, brave, cute, adorable, lovely, and absolutely beautiful...

And I...

"Oh, God..."

My face fell into my hands, the realization of the truth hitting harder than anything ever had before in my life.