“Well? What are you waiting for?”
She turned to Xavier, jumping at the sound of his voice. “What?”
“Why haven’t you pounced on them? Isn’t this what you normally do in situations like this?”
“W-well I… I just thought that you…”
“Have you ever thought before doing this? You don’t need my permission to go wild.”
She had spent the day working with all of her will to resist smiling, but now, she flashed a savage grin. Her heart calm in the face of what was about to happen, she sprinted into the alley with her cobalt eyes spotting angles and openings. One of the men noticed her, his upward glance and mumbling confusion giving her away. Regardless, she jumped into the air, and as the man before her turned around, she connected her foot to his temple and sent him crashing into the wall. Cursing her in Italian, one of the men reached out to punch her, but she deflected his fist, caught his arm, and twisted it to send him to his knees. Before she could deliver an attack, the slash of a knife forced her retreat. She had a tiny scratch on her cheek, faint but trickling blood. The man with the knife lunged, making clumsy slashes to try and cut her throat.
Blocking one of his swings, she used her free hand to slam him under the arm, then spun around and punched him in the face. He staggered back and she finished with a kick to the chest, sending him flying through the air. The second and fourth charged towards her, leaving no room for her to maneuver in the cramped alley. Zooming past her, Xavier jumped into the air and planted both feet in the forth man’s face, breaking his nose and creating an opening. Wait, he was helping her?! She pushed that confusion aside and slipped through, avoiding the sweeping arms of the second man, and countered with a kick to the back of the knee. As he fell, she knocked him out with an elbow to the side of the head.
Behind her, Xavier and the third man had both gotten to their feet. The man drew a gun and pointed it at him, and for a moment, Helena’s heart stopped. With speed beyond her own, he grabbed the gun and pushed forward, removing the slide. He spun the piece of metal around in his hand and stabbed the man in the forehead, failing to kill him but fracturing his skull. As she turned to him, the first man she had attacked charged towards her. She sidestepped around his arm and grabbed it, using her leverage to snap it at the elbow. The man with the knife stood back up, and drunk with bloodlust, he threw the switchblade at her. His face calm but stern, Xavier wrapped his arm around Helena’s waist and intercepted. Using his other hand, he caught the flying blade with inhuman ease, spun around for momentum and with Helena in his embrace, and threw the blade back at the owner. It pierced his chest and he fell to the ground, his blood pouring out onto the cobblestone.
The men were all down for the count and the woman stared at the two teens in stunned amazement. Helena was panting, looking up and down and realizing that Xavier was holding her against him in a tango-like embrace. Had… had he just saved her life? She thought back to the man with a gun, how when he pointed it at Xavier, she felt like a giant rock had been dropped into her stomach. Had she actually… been afraid for him? Oh God, what was happening to her?!
He turned to her, having yet to let go of her slender figure. “How about we go get lunch?”
Having returned to the livelier part of Rome, Xavier was treating Helena to lunch at one of the best restaurants in the city. They ate outside in the shade, Xavier with a big plate of pasta and chicken Parmesan and Helena with a salad and bowl of soup. The meal was awkward, as once again, Helena was in Xavier’s debt. He had really saved her life, twice in one fight, and she still couldn’t get over her embarrassment for the fear she felt when a gun had been pointing at him. Not only that, but when he jumped into the fray, she had been relieved, happy even.
“You should really be eating more, you need calories and carbs.”
His words shook her from her thoughts and reminded her that she was still his hostage. Her posture was rigid and she refused to look at him as she ate. “I want to keep my figure and be in good shape.”
“For the Swiss Guard you mean?”
“That’s right.”
“Well how do you expect to get in if you’re too weak to pass the physical exam?” He cut up a piece of chicken and held it out to her on the end of his fork. She continued to ignore him, even as he brought it close to her face. “Helena, I am more than prepared to hold my arm out like this until the check comes. How long do you think you can ignore me?”
“As long as it takes.”
“Even if I do this?”
He started poking her in the lips with the piece of meat, reddening them with the sauce. People at other tables were watching them and snickering. It only took a few pokes for her to snap in embarrassment.
“Stop making fun of me!”
“Stop being rude and just eat the chicken.”
Helena sighed and pulled it off with her teeth, careful not to let her lips touch his fork. The moment she started chewing it, she realized how unsatisfying soup and salad were for lunch.
“It’s good, isn’t it?”
She looked away and blushed. “I guess.”
“Want the rest? You can have it if you like.”
She just wanted to scream, feeling herself being driven crazy by that smug tone of his. “…Yes please.”
After touring a few other locations, Xavier suggested a walk through the park for a change of pace. As long as it meant not getting on the scooter, Helena agreed. He took her to Villa Doria Pamphili, a villa-turned museum with the grounds serving as the largest park in Rome. They orbited the white building, sticking to the shade of the trees as they enjoyed the beauty of the day.
“You know, there is something that I never got an answer for…” Helena turned to him, afraid of what he would ask. “Why DO you try so hard to hide your accent? You’re a true daughter of the emerald isle, but I can tell with every word you speak that you try to hide it. It’s almost like a fake American accent, what you do.”
As she had again and again, she averted his gaze, unable to look him in the eyes. It was a question that she didn’t want to answer, but what perplexed her was his tone. It was not mocking, but pure curiosity. He wasn’t asking her as the Antichrist to his hostage… but as a man to a woman.
“I just… don’t like that I’m Irish.”
“No, it’s more than that. The only people who try to erase or fake an accent are hipsters, guys trying to get laid, and people who want to completely sever the past and either can’t or won’t go home. So what is it? Come on, tell me your story.”
Helena clutched herself, seething with anger. “You don’t get to ask me that.”
They stared at each other for several moments, the sun on their shoulders.
“Very well.”
They continued walking, but after twenty steps, they stopped. A married couple was walking down the same path with a golden doodle on a leash, panting with hair over his eyes.
Xavier approached them, speaking in Italian. “Excuse me, may I pet your dog?”