Organization

1

"I saw him." 

Ever since my little confession, I've had countless faces asking me questions upon questions all hours through the day. I think I even met the president, but I didn't care because I was so tired and so fed up with this lack of privacy and having broken bones and not even being able to really talk in the first place! I mean, hello? broken jaw here! 

"Alright, I think Shahana has had more than enough questions today!" Aiden shouted over the incessant jabbering off all the supposedly 'important' people that could just kiss my ass. Reluctantly, they all started filing out of my hospital room that was located inside this C.I.A base in New York. Aiden shut the door behind them and sighed loudly.

"I almost wish you didn't see that guy." he mumbled to himself, and then smiled apologetically at me, "You did good today. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that." he added as he sat on the edge of my bed and squeezed my blanketed foot. I made a muffled sound in return to acknowledge him, but I knew Aiden wasn't trying to have an actual conversation with me since he knew I couldn't without hurting myself. We sat in companionable silence for a while; Aiden watching me with sad eyes as I eventually closed mine. Silence was nice after having it filled with voices all asking me the same questions. I could only describe somebody so many times before it got stupid--was there some sort of secret law that stated that people just couldn't pass the information on? Why did they each have to hear it from me? 

I sighed through my nose in exhaustion. I've been here for 3 days now which means I've been away from home for a whole month and it was now July 11th. I felt like an old rag doll: broken, holey, and hardly held together with stitches. How long would it be before I can go home now?

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Aiden's P.O.V

I think she was sleeping. Her eyes were closed, her breathing was even and she looked about as comfortable as she could get with 2 bullet wounds, a broken jaw, hand and clavicle. I leaned forward and gently skimmed my fingers over her swollen cheek and checked the gauze wraps that were secured over her shredded arms. How long would she be like this? A month? 3 Months? Maybe even a whole year? She was shot in the chest after all. How long did it take for bullet wounds to heal?

I ran my thumb over her eye lids--well, the one that wasn't black and blue. She did seem to be healing nicely, so maybe it wouldn't take so long. All she needed was a few days to really just rest and not answer a bunch of questions over and over again.  I stood and decided to leave her to sleep , quietly closing the door behind me. In the fluorescent lit hall, i stretched and rubbed my hands down my face; I could really use some coffee and maybe even a little alone time to myself. I ghosted past other employees and nodded respectfully at the Higher-Ups on the way to the break room. Getting myself a Styrofoam cup and filing it with cheap caffeine, I dumped myself on the limp, grey sofa that inhabited the room and took a swig of the bitter drink.

"Aiden, nice to see you out amongst us commoners." Montey, my supervisor greeted sarcastically as he entered the lounge and picked through the available snacks. 

"Oh, Ha-Ha..." I grumbled, narrowing my eyes at him, "You guys are all boring anyway." Montey shrugged and settled on a healthy banana before sitting down next to me. He was a tall guy, maybe in his 40's with winking black eyes, chestnut hair that was cut short, greying temples, and prickly stubble covering his jaw. He had smile lines around his eyes, but other than that, he looked pretty good for his age. 

"Has she said anything else that might be useful?" He asked nonchalantly, but it irked me anyway. Shahanna has already said anything and everything she had to say.

"No. She's tired, and her injuries make it hard for her to cooperate--maybe she should have a few rest days to herself." I  answered, slurping my coffee.

Montey only nodded, " I've been meaning to ask you; what is with you and that girl? Why have you held on to her so long?"  He locked his gaze with mine and his eyes twinkled with wicked suspicions. 

I blanched and tried to play off my feelings, "She's just a hostage they had.... I couldn't just let them kill her--it's immoral. And besides, I'm doing a good deed by keeping her safe and then returning her to her family." Montey raised an eye brow to which I scrambled to say, "It's apart of the job."

"Oh sure. Cut the bull shit. I've seen the way you look at her. There's something in your expression that makes me believe that she's much more than just 'apart of the job'. " my cheeks heated slightly but I said nothing, "So now that all bull shit is aside, tell me the truth: will she be an asset or a liability to have around here?"

"What are you talking about? She's just here to get better and then she's going home." I said, swishing my coffee around in the cup.

Montey looked at me quizzically, "You mean your father didn't tell you? She's not going anywhere; she's staying here to complete the mission."