Chased - Part 1

Episode A

A smirk appeared on the slender brunette girl’s face as she chased her panting and overweight prey. She had seen him roughing up a tiny old woman, and began racing after the paunchy thug as he fled the darkening street. The thug had heard others whisper about an angel of vengeance who appeared out of nowhere to interrupt their more shadowy dealings, but he had scoffed and cursed at them, not believing such incredulous stories... until now. Running at break-neck pace, sweat pouring down his face, he didn’t know who was flying after him, but he knew she ran like wildfire and had a face full of fury.
The brunette flew on him and they tumbled into the alley. The girl sprang up quickly as the man clumsily got to his feet. She ran at him again, but the wily thug knew how to evade her. She missed him and while her back was turned, he grabbed her by the shoulders and flung her into the alley wall.
“I don’t go easy on chicks,” the man grunted threateningly.
The girl scrambled to her feet and defiantly threw back her dark brown hair. “I don’t go easy on pricks, so I guess it’s a fair fight.”
The big man roared in anger and charged at her. She ducked his blow and sent a fierce jab to his kidneys. He doubled over, grasping his side. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he growled.
“I’ve already paid,” she replied darkly.
He swept up a heavy metal pipe from a pile of trash and charged at her. Unprepared for his impromptu weapon, the girl could only block his crushing blows by crossing her arms in front of her face. She cringed, feeling the bones in her forearms splinter with each hit. Then, instead of blocking the pipe, she grabbed it, pushing it back against the large, sweaty thug. Locked in a battle of brute strength, the slender girl knew that she couldn’t twist the metal from his hands. With a cold glint in her dark eyes, she kneed him in the groin and snatched the pipe from his grip. In one vicious strike, the brunette cracked the metal pipe against the thug’s head. He slumped to the ground, blood seeping slowly beneath him.
The pipe clanked to the ground, and the girl exhaled. She looked down at her arms, already beginning to swell and bruise, and rubbed them gently. She glanced indifferently at the thug’s lifeless body, then ran out of the alley.
From the other end of the alley, a tall, young man stood witness to the entire scene. His brown eyes looked sadly over the alley scene and he sighed. She doesn’t have to live her life this way.
The next afternoon, the same tall, dark stranger strolled casually into a local diner.
“Dr. Strong!” a round man greeted him. “Back again?”
The young man smiled congenially at him. “It’s on my way home,” he replied simply. “How about some of your home-made chicken noodle soup?”
“Comin’ up!” the man said as he made his way to the kitchen.
The young doctor carelessly flung his coat into a booth, but as he did so, he glanced carefully around the diner. Sure enough, waiting tables at the other end of the room was the girl from the alley. His dark eyes followed her as she raced between tables of banal customers. After a few moments, her slender form quickly approached his end of the diner.
“Excuse me, miss,” he interrupted her as she rushed by. “Didn’t I see you here last week?”
The girl stopped suddenly, eyeing him suspiciously. “Probably,” she said impatiently. “I work just about every day.” The man simply looked at her, and it made the young woman uncomfortable. “Did you, uh, need something?”
“No, sorry,” Dr. Strong said smiling apologetically. “Long day.” The girl studied him as he spoke, noting that his good looks and clean appearance implied he was not from this side of town.
“Hot soup for the good doctor!” the round man announced as he set a steaming bowl of watery soup in front of the man. “Ah, I see you’ve met Chase,” he said hesitantly as he gestured to the girl. “She’s not giving you problems, is she?”
“Absolutely not,” Dr. Strong answered assuredly. He looked questioningly at the waitress then back at the man. “Why would you think that?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” the man remarked. “Chase is a damn fine girl, but she can be a real bitch.” The round man flung a towel over his shoulder and waddled back toward the kitchen. Chase huffed and rolled her brown eyes. “Whatever.” She turned to go and spoke almost bitterly: “Enjoy your soup, Dr. Strong.”
“Please, call me... Darien,” he started to say, but she was gone. First she chases after a common mugger, runs from the scene of their fight, and practically sprints between her tables. Chase, he mulled. The name fits her.
Later that night, intrigued by the hardened fighter-waitress, Darien waited around the corner until Chase’s shift was over. He watched with interest as she exited the diner and gathered her wavy brown hair into a tight ponytail. She pulled on a worn denim jacket and confidently crossed the street. But instead of crossing toward the residential part of town as Darien expected, Chase determinedly set her course toward downtown. The young doctor frowned darkly.
Downtown had not been a safe place ever since the war started. Most of the decent law enforcement officers were off fighting, and their replacements consisted of volunteers who only “served and protected” their own interests. Personal grudges, business rivalries, gang wars and vendettas... these were what the public defenders tended to nowadays, and Judas Temple, the Interim Chief of Police, was the worst. He ran the rackets now, and quite often, the average citizens got caught in the crossfire... literally. The good people tried their best to stay out of the way and fend for themselves, but held very little hope of rising above the violence and achieving something better.
As a doctor, Darien knew this better than most. He had seen what Chief Temple and his thugs had tried to pass off as “keeping the peace” – assassinations, beatings, and other violent acts that destroyed the physical and spiritual health of good people. Dr. Strong tried to do what he could for the few remaining good people of his city, but it just wasn’t enough. So, he had opened a gym and self-defense clinic to teach the good people how to arm themselves against the attacks of the wicked.
Skilled as he was in fitness and martial arts, Darien had not seen anyone fight as fluidly or as fiercely as Chase had the previous night. She had moved like a woman possessed and had killed a thug twice as big as she was without a moment’s hesitation. But why? he wondered. And why is she going back there tonight?
Never letting her leave his sight, Darien followed Chase across town to another dirty alley. It must have been well past midnight when she finally came to her destination. Chase turned a corner and knocked hard on a large wooden door. “It’s me,” she said curtly. The door squeaked open, and she slid inside.
Around the corner, Darien wondered if he should leave. He knew what hid behind doors like that... persuasive people and gritty substances that helped the hurting forget why they hurt. Darien glanced at the door with a sad expression… the same one through which he had watched Chase in the alley last night. She doesn’t have to live her life like this, he thought again.
But after only a few moments, the door opened again and Chase walked out, leading a drunk and sloppy man behind her. The door slammed and she turned suggestively to him. “Let’s find someplace... darker,” she murmured in his ear. The man gazed greedily at her slender frame and grinned.
Suddenly, he straightened up. “Right here’s good for me,” he sneered and pushed her hard to the ground.
“What the hell?” Chase looked up at him, confused and angry.
“You’re not the only one who can pretend, honey,” the man snarled.
In a flash, Chase kicked the man in the shin and jumped to her feet. He winced, and swung wildly at her, catching her shoulder and knocking Chase off balance. She stumbled a bit, and it gave her attacker time to grab her arms and pin her against the wall. He leaned into her, breathing on her face and pressing her arms hard into the brick. Chase grimaced in pain, her arms still bruised from last night’s fight.
Darien could stay hidden no longer. He charged into the alleyway, ready to fight. Chase stared at him in shock, and her attacker froze as well.
“What the hell are you doing? And here?” Chase managed to ask, her eyes flashing.
“I’m here to help,” Darien said firmly.
Chase rolled her eyes and spoke harshly. “I don’t need your help.” She turned back to her attacker and head-butted him forcefully. He fell backward, and Chase kicked him into the opposite wall. As he stumbled, she scooped up a broken piece of plywood from the alley floor and raised it high above her attacker.
“Don’t!” Darien demanded.
She glared at him, daggers in her eyes. Never taking her eyes from Darien’s, she slammed the beam with deadly accuracy on the man’s head, and he fell limply to the ground.
Chase and Darien’s eyes remained locked as the wood clattered to the ground. “Why did you do that?” Darien demanded forcefully.
“Because it needs to be done,” she replied coldly.
“Did last night need to be done, too?” Darien argued. “They might be criminals but they don’t deserve to die,” he stated angrily. “Like it or not, they’re still human beings.”
Chase glared at him. “Have you been following me? Did Temple send you after me?”
“Only since yesterday,” he answered vehemently. “And I would never be a part of Judas Temple’s underworld schemes.” Chase looked away, disgusted, and Darien cautiously stepped closer. “Look,” he said, taking a breath and softening his tone, “I saw you at the diner the other day and something made me curious about you. I want to help.”
Like lightening, Chase stalked up to him and slugged him in the jaw. But he didn’t feebly topple over like she had expected. He stood firm but frozen, his head to the side, then slowly turned to face her, hurt and anger in his eyes.
“You can help yourself by staying the hell away from me,” Chase growled at him. “I don’t need your help,” she added as she took long, quick strides into the darkness. “And I don’t want to see you again.”




Episode B

The intense fluorescent lights magnified the colors on Chase’s arms as she rubbed ointment on her cuts and bruises later that night. She grimaced at even the lightest touch, heaping pain upon pain, and her frustration grew when she thought back to the young doctor who had suddenly thrust himself into her affairs. He thinks I need help! she thought indignantly. I’ve been fighting these thugs for years, she told herself angrily. And he wants me to show mercy?! To the same kind of scum-bags who destroyed my life?! Chase set her jaw and looked determinedly at her reflection in the mirror. They all should pay for what they did, and I certainly don’t need his help to make sure they do.
Chase went to bed that night with a clear mind, resolving not to waste any more time on Dr. Strong or his words. But repressing her thoughts while she slept was not so easy, and she found herself reliving the same nightmare that had plagued her for the past nine years.
Blasts exploded all around her and people scrambled in panic. A scream came from behind her and she turned to see her mother and father desperately shepherding her and her little sister out the door. “Go! Run!” they cried as the four ran for the back door. Chase’s gangly teen legs had carried her to the yard first and as the war sounds grew closer and louder, she turned back to her family. But a piercing whistling sound caught her attention and the world slowed to slow-motion. Chase watched a small, round object fly through the air above her and land at the very doorstep she had just passed over. Through the shadows of the house she saw her little sister and parents desperately scurrying toward the door. Chase opened her mouth to scream but it was too late. The grenade exploded, splintering the backside of the house and sending Chase flying several yards back.
Still feeling like the teen girl sprawled on her back, Chase woke in her bed, sweaty and gasping for breath. She thought that one day she would get used to the terror, but each night the nightmare returned, and it still felt as strong as the day she had actually lived it. The war had started that day, and Chase’s family had been some of its first fatalities. She didn’t have a clear memory of how she ended up at the diner, but she had been working there ever since, and fighting almost as long.
She relied on fighting, drinking, and occasional one-night stands to keep her hardened against the pain, and she felt constantly pursued by its overwhelming sadness and emptiness. Almost every night she relived that agonizing nightmare, and every day she fought against its relentless memory, desperately determined to keep it at bay from both her own life and that of others.
This night was no different, so Chase chose to solve her insomnia the same way she always did: one small, white tablet would knock her out for six solid hours of dreamless sleep, and she popped one in her mouth, skipped the water, and swallowed hard. She slipped back into bed and gave no further thought to the night’s events. This is how I live my life... there’s nothing wrong with it.
Working at the diner the next afternoon, Chase was both surprised and angry to see Dr. Darien Strong settle casually into a booth. She glared at him from across the room, but he simply looked intently back at her. She absently sloshed some lukewarm coffee into a gray man’s cup, then stalked to Darien’s table.
“What are you doing here?” she said quietly through clenched teeth.
He looked innocently back at her. “I’m just here for a cup of coffee.”
“Don’t play games with me,” she demanded. “What do you want? And don’t say ‘to help me’.”
He paused to look at her. “To know who you really are.”
His answer caught her off-guard and she stared blankly at him. Chase quickly regained her senses and leaned threateningly close to him. “Leave. Me. Alone.”
“Sorry,” he said, almost defiantly. “Can’t do that.”
“Why the hell not?” Chase asked angrily.
He looked at her with wonder. “I’m captivated by you.”
Chase chuckled sarcastically. “Is that a line? ‘I want to help you’ didn’t work so you thought you’d try a different one?” She shook her head cynically. “Boy, I thought I had heard them all.”
“I do want to help you, Chase,” Darien said matter-of-factly.
Chase immediately grew serious. “Look, get this through your thick, medical-schooled brain – I don’t want your help.” He met her defiant glare. “And if I see you again,” Chase added threateningly, “you might get a plank in your skull too.”
Darien studied her. “I’m not gonna wait around forever, you know.”
Chase stepped back and dramatically bowed, gesturing him to exit the booth. “Then by all means, Dr. Strong,” she said dramatically, then added with an edgy voice: “Get the hell out.”
Darien stood and noted the hardened expression on the young woman’s face. “I’m not giving up on you just yet,” he said, then turned to go.
Chase began to mutter. “Why can’t you just leave me alone, you annoying son of a–“
”Chase!!” a man bellowed from the kitchen. “What’s going on out there?!”
Darien stole a glance over his shoulder as he exited the diner. “Nothing boss!” Chase called back, sending Darien an angry look. The young doctor gave her a small, defiant grin, and the door swung shut behind him.
Chase set her jaw and snorted. “What a piece of sh–“
”Chase!!” the man bellowed again. “Get back to work, would ya?!”

Episode C

Chase’s anger drove her to distraction so much that just one hour later, her boss told Chase to go home. “You’re no good to me when you’re pissin’ off the customers, and you’re sure as hell not making any tips,” he said. “Go home, take a Midol and get over it.”
Darien stood calmly outside the diner as Chase stormed out. “I know a place where you can vent all that anger,” he said, revealing his presence. Chase snapped her head towards him as he spoke. “And it’s not a dark alley.”
The dark-haired young woman grunted in frustration. “You!” she stomped toward him. “What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just leave me the hell alone?!”
“I can’t do that,” Darien replied. “And I think you would understand if you would just–“
”Understand?!” Chase exclaimed angrily. “What’s there to understand?! First, you almost get me killed, and today you almost got me fired!” People on the sidewalk began to stare as they shuffled by the loud young woman.
Darien was almost amused. “I got you almost killed?”
“Yes!” Chase was indignant. She leaned forward so that no one else would hear. “I had that guy handled, and you showed up and distracted me!”
The amusement left Darien’s face. “I offer to help you, and you’re throwing this back in my face,” he said seriously.
Chase threw up her arms in exasperation. “So stop trying to help!”
“Look,” Darien said, trying to be calm. “I came to help you, not fight with you.”
Chase chuckled cynically and gave him the once-over. “That’d be a short fight,” she muttered.
Darien straightened to his full height and loomed impressively over the scowling woman. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
Chase felt slightly threatened. That’s usually when the anger kicked in. “Let’s throw down then,” she replied arrogantly. “You and me, right here. And we’ll see who needs help.”
Darien relaxed his stance. “I’m not gonna fight you, Chase. And I’m not gonna bully you into letting me help you. But if you change your mind - or feel like a real fight – come find me.” He extended a business card with the name of a local gym. “I own that gym and we teach self-defense and boxing. You should come to the ring sometime – you could probably teach our trainers a thing or two.”
Chase eyed him warily and hesitantly snatched the card from his hand. “Interesting hobby, Doc.”
The young doctor looked sincerely at Chase. “You can call me Darien.” The angry adrenaline began melting away, and Chase looked at him as if she were trying to figure him out.
Darien could see Chase was deep in thought. He recognized the perfect moment of exit had arrived, leaving Chase still wondering about him and his motivations. “Be careful tonight, Chase,” he said, concerned. “And make sure you take care of those arms,” he nodded to the previous night’s bruises. “You need to put some ice on them.” And he walked away.
Chase was stunned. She stood on the sidewalk in front of the diner, staring after the young doctor. She suddenly remembered his business card and looked curiously at it. After a moment, Chase looked up again in the direction of the doctor, as if something didn’t compute. Who is this guy? she wondered. A young, good-looking doctor who owns a gym and teaches boxing? She looked down at the card and then up again. And why has he been following me? He says he wants to help, but why?
Chase slowly began walking, absently turning the card over in her hands. And why won’t he give up? she thought, slightly irritated. She remembered his words from earlier that day: I’m not giving up on you just yet. Underneath the irritation and anger, something in Chase’s hardened heart was moved by his persistent pursuit.

Episode D

Over the next few days, Chase’s thoughts occasionally strayed to the handsome young doctor. But, she told herself, she only thought about when him when he happened in to the diner. He would look at her and give a little nod, then sit at a table nearby. But Darien never brought up their previous argument; he knew he had gotten to Chase somehow, and he wanted her to have time to think. After a while, he hoped she would bring it up to him. In the meantime, he would be pleasant - gently reminding her to call him ‘Darien’ - and she would be all business, still referring to him as ‘Doc.’
At closing time a few nights later, Chase suddenly realized that she had not seen the young doctor that day. “Hey, Louie,” she said as she counted the drawer money. “Was that doctor here tonight?”
The round man peeked around the corner, smirking. “No, why? You got a crush on him or somethin’?”
Chase answered cooly. “Yeah, right,” she said, chuckling. “He’s not my type and you know it.”
“No, baby,” Louie said, shuffling away. “You’re not his type.”
Later that night, Chase absently kicked a rusty nail as she walked to the night deposit drawer at the bank. Chase didn’t mind going: she knew she could handle herself and she was usually looking to take out a few thugs anyway. What better way to attract a thief than a harmless-looking young woman carrying a sack full of cash?
But tonight, Chase was apathetic. For the first time in a while, Chase wasn’t looking for a fight. She had too much on her mind, thinking about the doctor who wanted to help. Why him? Why now? she wondered. And why me?
A crunching sound caught Chase’s attention. She knew instantly that she was being stalked. “Alright,” she sighed wearily. “I know you’re there – I heard your big foot tromping through the trash.” She turned slowly, scanning her surroundings. “Come on out so we can–“
Chase stopped short when not one but two muscular men stepped out of the shadows. Chains hung from their pockets and their arms bulged as they wrung their hands in greedy anticipation of the fight. “You’ve been interfering an awful lot, little girl,” one thug said. “And the boss don’t like it too much,” the other finished.
Chase muttered under her breath. “Just my luck, I actually don’t feel like fighting tonight, and I get two for the price of one.” She raised her head to the dark midnight sky. “Thanks a lot!” she called out.
Before Chase could look down again, the men charged. Chase slung the heavy sack of money into one man’s head and he stumbled, while Chase reeled the bag back for a second hit. She faked a blow to the second man’s head but quickly dropped, slamming the bag into his midsection. The second man doubled over as the first one got back up. He swung a thick fist that Chase ducked, but as she bounced back up, the second man snatched the bag of cash from her grasp, tearing it open. Coins exploded everywhere as dollar bills fluttered slowly to the ground. There goes my weapon, Chase thought, ...and my job.
The pair of henchmen suddenly began working together against Chase, one rapidly attacking after the other. Chase’s reflexes almost couldn’t keep up with the men, and she felt like she was fighting one giant man with four arms. The arms were thick but fast and SMACK! One suddenly connected with Chase’s head, sending her sprawling against the wall. The pavement swirled and Chase felt like her head was only half-way attached to her neck. Another fist landed in her gut and Chase bent over, rasping for breath and heaving in pain. She spit out the blood that had begun to gather in her mouth and was about to stand for an angry counter-attack but the goons beat her to it. As she tried to raise her head, one of the men backhanded her so hard she fell to the ground. The pavement stung Chase’s cheek as she hit, and with it, reality. She knew she was not going to win this fight.
As if to confirm her thoughts, the two muscular men each roughly grabbed one of Chase’s bruised arms and wrenched it painfully behind her back. “We ain’t gonna kill ya,” one of them said. “The boss just said to give you a warning.”
“Yeah,” the other added with a chilling chuckle. “And to us, a warning means two broken arms.” They held Chase’s arms out behind her back and began to pull them upward. She grimaced and tried to stand. One goon stepped forward and sent a powerful punch down to her jaw. Chase grunted and tried to wriggle free. He punched her again. They kept pulling her arms up, tighter and tighter, and through the searing pain in her jaw and her stomach, Chase thought she might be able to slip free. But their grasp was too tight and Chase began to wonder if she would make it back to her house in one piece tonight.
It’s up to me to get out of this mess, she thought rapidly. No one’s going to jump out and save me.
Just then, the goons halted their torture and looked up. “Did you see that?” one asked.
“Yeah, it looked like a man,” the other agreed.
The first shook his head, tightening his grasp on Chase, despite her struggling. “Let’s do this and get it over with.”
Afraid her one chance was gone, Chase wriggled frantically. But it was no use: she was on her knees, arms held high behind her back by two very strong men. She couldn’t wriggle free, she didn’t have any leverage or momentum to pull, and her arms were about to be broken. Chase off-handedly thought that if both her arms were broken, she might as well be fired from her job anyway.
Suddenly, a tall, dark figure emerged from the shadows and spoke in a commanding voice: “You will let her go.”
Chase looked up, and through sweaty strands of her own brown hair saw Darien, looking coldly at the two thugs.
Never loosening their grip on Chase, the thugs smirked. “Too bad, hero,” one said. “That’s not your call.”
Darien kept his glare on the men. “No, it’s not,” he suddenly responded, then turned to Chase. “It’s hers.”
Chase and the henchmen gaped in confusion. Darien locked eyes with Chase. “You said you didn’t need my help.”
Chase’s arms burned like they’d been set on fire, and her jaw throbbed with searing pain. She could barely breathe. “Darien,” she uttered desperately. “Please help me.”
With superhuman speed, he was on the thugs before Chase could finish. As Darien flew at them, the thugs released their grip on Chase and she fell limply to the ground. The cool pavement eased the pain in her jaw only slightly, but her arms still felt like fire. Even though sounds of the fight echoed over her, Chase was in too much pain to move. She hoped that Darien was not getting beaten to a bloody pulp, but she knew her arms would not be able to get her off the ground.
Suddenly, all was quiet, and Chase grew anxious. Although she was free of the henchmen’s grip, if they had won the fight and killed Darien, she was just as defenseless now as she had been before. Footsteps approached and Chase scrambled awkwardly, swallowing the blinding pain and forcing her rubbery arms to push her body up from the ground.
“Shh,” a warm voice said and a gentle hand touched her skin. “It’s me, you’re okay,” Darien said as he knelt beside her.
Chase stared incredulously at him. “What–? How–?” she breathed.
Darien gave a small smile. “Later,” he said, then turned serious. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asked, looking over her body.
Chase sat up slowly, favoring her arms. “I’m okay.”
Darien scrutinized her. “Sure you are.” He gently pulled her up. “My gym’s just a block away. I’ve got some medical supplies there... come on.” Darien led Chase slowly out of the alley, leaving behind two very bloody – but alive – henchmen.
While her legs were uninjured, every step sent a jolt of pain through Chase’s upper body, and she walked gingerly down the street. “What’s wrong with your legs?” Darien asked as they walked.
“Nothing,” Chase muttered through a swollen lip. “It’s everything else that hurts.”
They reached the gym quickly and Darien let them inside. As he turned on the lights, Chase saw a large floor mat surrounded by several hanging punching bags. As they crossed through a herd of work-out machines, an elevated boxing ring loomed impressively from the corner of the gym. They reached a door on the other side of the room.
“This is the washroom. I’ve got medical supplies inside,” Darien said, opening the door for her.
Chase stopped and eyed the dark room suspiciously. “It looks clandestine and torture-y to me,” she said darkly.
Darien reached inside and flipped on the light. A small white cot and matching sink stood next to one another like matching nurses waiting for orders. Two stout filing cabinets were on the opposite wall, covered with neat stacks of towels and bandages. Darien let Chase look around, then spoke kindly. “I don’t blame you for being skittish. But we use it all the time... really.”
The brunette looked cautiously at him, then stepped slowly into the sterile room, settling onto the cot with a grimace. Chase’s pain had increased during the short walk from the alley, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten beat up so badly. Her jaw throbbed and her abs screamed with every breath; her arms felt like hot, rubbery strands of molten lava. Occasionally, her vision would blur and the room would begin to spin, and she would hang her head, closing her eyes against the nausea.
Darien pulled a rolling stool from under the cot as one of the dizzy spells hit Chase. “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked urgently.
“Pain... dizzy,” she whispered.
Darien spun around and pulled two bottles from a drawer. He dumped one tablet from each bottle, then filled a cup with water at the sink. “Here,” he said, offering them to Chase. “One for the pain, one for the nausea.”
She weakly looked up and took the pills from his hand. Without even glancing at the glass of water, she popped the pills into her mouth and forced them down.
“That’s one way to do it,” Darien muttered and Chase eyes flashed angrily at him before looking down again.
Darien waited until the spell had passed, and Chase sat back up again. “You shouldn’t have another one of those,” he said. “The pills work pretty fast.”
“Thanks,” Chase said mildly, pulling her tangled brown hair out of her face. As she did so, Darien noticed a nasty bruise swelling under her right eye.
“Let me see that,” he said, leaning closer. Chase hesitated, then slowly pulled her hair to the opposite shoulder, revealing a large, swollen circle of black, blue, and green.
Darien leaned forward, his dark eyes intently focused on her bruise. Without thinking, he began to put his hands on Chase’s head. She jerked away. “I’m sorry,” Darien said softly. “But I need to see...”
Chase stared at him as Darien gently held her head in his warms hands. He slowly turned her face toward the light. “This is gonna hurt, Chase,” he said plainly, “but I need to feel if the bone has been cracked, okay?” Hesitantly, the young woman gave a slight nod.
Darien’s fingers traveled over her cheek toward the dark green center of the bruise. With the lightest touch, he put a slight amount of pressure onto the skin. Chase felt like her cheekbone had just exploded and she twisted the bed sheets with her fist. He touched again, slightly to the left - another explosion of pain. Chase clenched her eyes shut, and a single tear slipped down the right side of her face.
Darien waited until it fell well below her bruised cheekbone before tenderly wiping it away with his thumb. “Chase...?” She was trembling.
“God, it hurts so much!” she exclaimed in a whisper as she pulled away.
Darien’s face darkened with concern. “What?”
“Everything!”
Darien let a silent moment pass. “Why do you do this to yourself?”
Chase never looked up. “It’s the only way.”
He tried to see past the curtain of long, brown hair hiding her face. “The only way for what?” he pressed gently.
She spoke almost in a whisper. “It’s the only way... to save them.”
Darien proceeded with caution. “Save who, Chase?”
“My... my...” Chase could not bring herself to finish.
The pieces of her life suddenly fell into place for Darien. “Your family?”
Chase looked at him, and the brown eyes that for so long had only looked hardened and cold now looked like a child’s, lost and alone and afraid. Tears flooded her eyes, spilling down her smudged and bruised face. “They were killed... murdered... and I saw it... I saw the bomb and I couldn’t do anything,” she sobbed. “And I’ve been alone ever since then... trying so hard not to let it happen again... but it just hurts... so much...”
Darien sat next to Chase on the cot as she doubled over in sobs. He gently pulled her to his chest and held her close while she cried. After a while, Chase’s breathing steadied and she pulled away from him, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, attempting to straighten her appearance. But as she propped her hands on the cot, she hissed in pain.
“You’re gonna need to take it easy the next couple of days so you can heal,” Darien said.
“Okay, thanks,” Chase replied, suddenly distant again, as she stood up to go. But while the pain and nausea had lessened - thanks to Darien’s medicine – a wave of fatigue swept over her, and Chase found that her feet were a lot heavier than she remembered.
Darien watched her and stood to speak. “You’re in no shape to walk home,” he stated. “I’ll sleep down here tonight. Why don’t you take my apartment upstairs.”
It was less a question and more a statement of fact. Chase looked hard at him.
“I’m not gonna force you, Chase, but if you really want to die, walking out that door right now would be a good start in a bad direction.”
She continued to stare suspiciously at him, but another wave of exhaustion threatened to pull her eyes shut right where she stood.
“Go up the stairs, bedroom’s on your right,” Darien said. “Dig around for whatever you need.” In her pain, exhaustion, and plain old mistrust, Chase was indecisive. Darien kept his irritation in check and turned back toward the cot. “I’ll check on you before I leave for the hospital in the morning, okay?”
Hardly able to think straight, Chase finally began moving toward the stairs. “Okay.”
Darien seemed relieved. “Chase?” She turned. “Sleep well.”
She nodded in appreciation. “Thanks. And Darien? Thanks.”
He gave a small grin. “Good night.”
Early the next morning, Darien dressed for work. Just before leaving, he climbed the stairs to check on Chase. After getting no response to several knocks on his bedroom door, Darien entered the room cautiously. Chase was still deep in sleep, her slim form barely noticeable beneath the thick covers of Darien’s large bed. He knelt beside the bed and looked kindly at her, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her swollen right eye. Darien wondered why this beautiful young woman had chosen to live such a hard and painful life, but he reveled in the fact that she had finally allowed him to help her. He hoped, for her sake, that last night’s revelations would allow her to trust him even more. After a last, long look, he scribbled down a note for her and left the apartment.
Several hours later, Chase woke up and almost forgot where she was. The scantly-furnished apartment reminded her of her own, but the furniture and the clothes draped over them were unfamiliar. Then she remembered the two thugs, Darien’s dramatic rescue, and her emotional outburst. Chase angrily punched the pillow next to her in disgust, wishing she had never let herself be so vulnerable. He’ll only distract me... and cause me more pain, she added sadly. A crinkling sound caught her attention, and a piece of paper slid off the offending pillow:

Chase,
Hope you slept well and are feeling better. You’ll probably be sore,
but there’s some aspirin behind the mirror in the bathroom, and some
juice in the fridge. Call me at the hospital when you get up.
Darien

Chase rolled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. She found the aspirin and popped four pills into her mouth, swallowing hard. As she closed the medicine cabinet, her own reflection shocked her. Her right eye was swollen and her cheekbone a rainbow of sickening colors. Her brown hair hung limply in strings around her face and she smelled like day-old sweat. I need a shower. Chase glanced at the shower, then thought better of it. I’ve let this guy do too much already.
Instead, Chase pulled her hair back tightly and splashed some cold water on her face. She smoothed out her rumpled shirt as best she could, then exited the apartment. As she descended the stairs, Chase saw a young man with blond hair approaching from the front door.
“You Chase?” he asked casually.
She stiffened. “Yeah.”
“I’m Jesse. Dare said you’d be here.”
“Dare?”
“Darien,” Jesse explained. “Around here we call him Dare.”
Chase crossed her arms defensively, frustrated that her quiet exit had been interrupted.
“Dare wanted me to make sure you had eaten something,” Jesse explained amiably. “He said something about the medicine he gave you was pretty strong so–“
”Yeah, I grabbed some cereal,” Chase lied. “Listen, I gotta jet. Tell Darien thanks.” She tossed her last remark over her shoulder as she strode out the door.

Episode E

Bombs exploded all around them as Chase and her family raced for the door. Chase flew out the door and raced into the yard. She turned back, waiting for her family to emerge when an explosion ripped apart the house and sent Chase flying into the air. She landed with a thud several yards away. She quickly sat up, frantically searching for any sign her family survived.
There was none.
This part of the nightmare was always the worst - the realization of sudden loss and the stabbing pain of her family’s death. Explosions rocked the space around her, but Chase remained frozen, tears flooding her view. But even from within the nightmare, Chase felt something different this time. Lying frozen with grief in the backyard, she looked down and realized that in her dream she was no longer a teenager but a young woman. A blast suddenly sounded just beside her and she recoiled, covering her head with her hands. She tried to get up and run away, but found that she was stuck to the ground. I’m going to die! she thought in panic. I’m going to die right here with my family!
Suddenly, Chase felt strong, warm arms wrap protectively around her, shielding her from the explosions. She couldn’t see who it was, but she felt safe and cared for... like she had felt before the war. She glanced back at her family’s demolished house and began to cry. Her faceless protector pulled her close and held her lovingly as she cried.
Chase woke up in the fetal position with her arms clasped around her legs. Without opening her eyes, she tried to remember that peaceful feeling she had when she was in the stranger’s arms. It had been so long since she had been held and cared for that way. Not since...
Darien.
She had almost forced herself to forget how good it felt to have him hold her. No one had dared touch her so gently and intimately in years. Even the men that she used for distractions were only after one thing, and it did not include loving touches and warm embraces. Was that Darien in my dream? she wondered. Chase was confused and a bit angry that Darien had forged his way not only into her life but her dreams as well. She counted herself lucky that she had not seen him in a day or so, but a sliver of anxiety went through her when she thought about what he might do next. Would he hold her vulnerability over her head? Would he reveal her nightly crusades to the police? Would he try to interfere again and get them both killed? He had shown himself a zealous fighter in the alley, but maybe he was just lucky.
Chase stared at the ceiling and gritted her teeth. He’s too much of a liability and a distraction, Chase decided. Darien’s got to go.
The next day, Chase went to the diner and resumed her job. She did no begging – simply walked into the diner, tied on her apron, and began waiting on customers. Louie didn’t notice until after Chase had been working for an hour, and he hollered for her from the kitchen.
“What happened to my money, Chase?!” he demanded. “The bank says it never arrived!”
“I got robbed, Louie,” Chase explained matter-of-factly. “It’s all gone.”
Louie looked disdainfully at her. “Uh-huh. And where have you been the past two days?”
Chase looked away. “I was... sick.”
The round man grabbed her chin and forced her to look up. “That money’s comin’ out of your check.”
Chase’s eyes flashed like lightening and she jerked free of his hand. “I didn’t take your money!”
Louie chuckled. “You go AWOL for two days the night after my money disappears – what am I supposed to think, honey?” He began to walk away. “I’ll keep sayin’ it, Chase... you’re a damn fine waitress, but you can be a real bitch.”
Chase huffed through the rest of her shift until the door opened just before closing time, and in walked Darien.
“Hey,” he said warmly. “Thought I could take a look at your arms and see how–“
”I’m fine,” Chase said curtly, furiously wiping down the counters.
Darien was taken aback by her rudeness. “Back to your old self, then,” he muttered disappointedly.
She glared at him. “Yes, I am. In fact,” Chase added angrily, “I’m feeling so much better that I’m going out tonight.”
Darien leaned closer and lowered his voice. “That’s not a good idea, Chase,” he warned. “There’s no way your body has recovered enough to–“
”I’m going. Deal with it, Dare.” She snarled his nickname.
Darien stared back at her. “I’m just trying to–“
”Help?” Chase answered for him. “How many times do I have to say it? I don’t need your help,” she said forcefully.
He gave her a heavy but concerned look. “Are you sure about that?”
Chase tossed her wet rag into a bucket. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, suddenly casual. “And I didn’t mean it.”
Darien studied her, his own face growing dark. “You didn’t mean what?”
“When I asked for your help,” Chase replied flippantly. “In the alley – I didn’t mean it... I had it handled.” She stole a glance at him, hoping she had simply pissed him off enough to make him leave. Instead, a look of sadness and disappointment settled on Darien’s dark face, and he looked hard at her for a long time.
Finally, he spoke. “You’re about to make a very big mistake here, Chase,” he said in a quiet, controlled voice. She busied herself with toothpicks as he continued, slightly softer. “You don’t have to fight alone.”
Chase scoffed. “What do you care?”
Darien caught her eye and held it. “I care... very much.”
For once, Chase was speechless. She looked, stunned, at his earnest face, and simply did not know how to respond.
Darien noted her surprise and took a risk. He placed a warm hand on hers and spoke intimately to her: “Think about what I said.” Then he rose and left the diner.
Chase was still stunned. What? Which part?