Dead Beautiful (A Harrison Wells Fanfic) *ON HOLD*

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 12.
The One In Which - Oh, Screw It. I'm Too Depressed With The Ending Of This Chapter To Come Up With A New Title

(Flashback cont. from Ch. 9)

The Ashalees didn't say anything for a full five minutes after I finished explaining my side of the story. "What's going on?" I asked Raymond in a whisper. "Why aren't they saying anything?"

"They're processing," Raymond whispered back. "Looking for holes, lies, deceptions in your story." He raised an eyebrow at me. "You didn't lie about anything, did you?"

"Hell no! You think I have a death wish?"

The Ashalees turned around to face us again, and the icy feeling came back. I shivered a little as they announced in unison, "Abhorsen, we have analyzed the data that you have provided us, and we have come to the verdict that you have told us your version of the truth."

I frowned. "I'm sorry, my version of the truth?"

"That means the version that you think is true," Raymond explained in a low voice.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I know that, genius. I meant, what other versions are there?"

"The version that really happened," The Ashalees stated in their creepy voices. "You do not know the whole story, Abhorsen and only when you do will you understand the predicament you are in."

XXXXXXXXXX

I hardly saw Harrison during the days that followed, mainly because my boss at the publishing firm I worked for was keeping our asses busy in preparation for the upcoming Comic-Con. Comic-Con used to be my favourite time of the year (I used to be such a hardcore cosplayer), but once you're famous, it becomes all about the book-signings and publicity stunts.

So there I was five days later, bored and raring to explore the convention as I sat at the 'Artist's Alley' area of Central City's Comic-Con, drawing sketches and signing copies of my mangas for a never-ending line of fans. My agent had also advised me to dress up as a character from one of my mangas to please my fans, which I absolutely refused to do (I'd like to see him sit in a stuffy, over-crowded room all day in full costume), but I had conceded to wearing just the shoulder armour-plate of one of my characters over the strapless white top I was wearing with my jeans and combat boots. I was really regretting it now though - I really don't advise wearing a heavy armour -plate over your shoulder if you're planning on signing and sketching stuff all day.

I flexed my fingers after I finished signing a copy of my manga for a ten year old kid. It was already 5:25 PM; just five more minutes and my shift would be over.

I took the manga of the next person in line without looking up. "Hi!" I greeted with a fake chirpiness. I had been at this for more than three hours now; chirpy was far from what I was feeling. "So, who do I write thi -"

I broke off, spying a beautiful red rose sticking out of the manga, and looked up. Harrison was sitting on the other side of my table in his wheelchair, dressed in his usual black attire. "Harry!" I exclaimed, putting my pen down. "What are you doing here?"

Harrison folded his arms, looking offended. "What, you think I'm too old for Comic-Con?"

"No! You just, don't look like someone who'd enjoy a place like this."