AIM [FIRST DRAFT]

Chapter 14: Tongue Tied

Stefan remembered something suddenly. He gestured Aimee back to the helicopter and she tailed him there. He opened the chopper doors and took out a backpack.

He sighed in relief. "Good, Gavin brought the equipment along," he said.

"He's pretty fast, doing all that and arriving so soon," remarked Aimee. Stefan nodded and tossed Aimee clothing that was previously neatly folded. "What's this supposed to be?"

"It's our uniform," answered Stefan.

"Our uniform?" Aimee enquired, repeating his statement.

"The Institute hardly ever uses these, but we do have a fully equipped uniform. It helps in stealth missions," he explained. He took another outfit from the backpack and held it up.

"But, our uniform?" she iterated her question. She understood that GINM had a uniform, but why was it suddenly hers too? "'Our' equals you and me, why am I involved in this all of a sudden?" she queried.

"You have to ask me this now, right now?"

"Well, I don't see why not," she was tenacious. Stefan climbed into the chopper, ignoring her. There was a cubicle in the back of the helicopter. He trod in with his crutches in position and shut the door behind himself. "Hey!" shouted Aimee.

"Just put the uniform on, I'll explain later," his voice was a faint murmur from the cubicle.

"Really, you should know by now that I'm not just going to do whatever you say," she reminded him.

Stefan opened the door, topless. His six-pack cast a spell on Aimee's eyes. She did not hear what he said next.

"I just want you to wear it on this mission," the expression he had before, telling her that the enemy did not know she was alive or wanted her alive, returned.

At least she was not mentally in the present. All she could hear was his indistinct, angelic voice, but she soon snapped to her senses.

"I'll just put the uniform on now," she walked passed Stefan with her hand over one side of her face, trying not to stare, and into another separate cubicle.

Stefan was very confused by then, but he simply shrugged and shut his door.

Minutes later, he came out to see that Aimee was already dressed and sitting on her seat with one leg crossed over the other.

"Wow," remarked Stefan; stunned by how gorgeous she looked in the fitted grey vest, the matching shorts that were worn over black leggings and ankle boots he gave her.

"So, this is uniform?" queried Aimee, observing her attire as well as his own.

He had removed the old clothes he had worn since that Monday at the hospital. Now, he wore baggy deep blue jeans, black sneakers and a crimson T-shirt with an electric guitar print.

"Well, no, but it's easier to move in, right?" he chuckled.

"Stefan!" Aimee got up and lightly punched his arm and they grinned concurrently.

But Stefan had to ask, "Are you still mad at me?"

"No, you didn't really do anything, I was just... I don't know, frustrated," she tested.

Stefan smiled, relieved, but the smile faded away soon, too soon to Aimee's liking.

"There's something I need to tell you," he mentioned.

"What is it?" she hoped it was good news.

Stefan had only two thoughts flying through his head; should I tell her now and what will happen if I don't? He wanted to tell her, but the words could not come out lightly, or at least not the way he wanted them to. He stuttered.

"Stefan, you can tell me," Aimee said anxiously.

"I don't know... how to say this..."

"Just go ahead and say it, I can take it," she assured him.

"I... alright," he inhaled deeply when suddenly, a lurid sound interrupted.

It was hard to make it out, but it closely related to footsteps. Aimee hushed Stefan, her finger on his lips.

"Do you hear that?" she inquired.

The sound grew louder and louder, and then there was someone, a woman, barking out orders. Aimee and Stefan's hearts were beating faster the louder the sounds became. Stefan opened her cubicle door and did not dither; he shoved her in, followed, and then sealed it gently. Normally, Aimee would have freaked out, but this reminded her of that mysterious man at the GINM parking lot.

The cubicle was not at all spacious and there were shelves on the walls making it even more crammed. Stefan was practically on top of her. They stayed in place and listened for the anonymous people outside. Their footsteps ceased, they must have surrounded the chopper by now.

The woman spoke again, or rather yelled, like the captain of a pirate ship. She shrieked in French. Aimee watched Stefan. He was paying no attention to her, but to the words escaping the woman's mouth. He concent-rated hard, and then Aimee realised that he understood her, but barely.

"Can you tell what she's saying?" her voice so low it was hardly even a whisper; some words she only lipped.

Stefan shuddered, turned his attention to Aimee and raised his eyebrows for her to repeat her question.

"Do you know what's happening out there?" she asked again.

He elevated his index finger and continued his previous focus on the woman. She shouted one more word: return. And then there were footsteps again, followed by complete silence.

"We need to get out of here," Stefan glanced at Aimee.

Now it was entirely like the time in the parking lot, Aimee thought, except Buckley was nowhere near there. She questioned what made her think of him particularly, but not for too long; Stefan swung the cubicle door wide open and they could breathe again. He was hasty; holding his crutches in one hand - one in position, one angled forward - and pulled Aimee along and out of the helicopter with his other hand.

He thought that if they moved quickly, they could get Gavin and get out of there. What he heard from the woman was not good news for them.

"They're on to us. We need to -" he paused.

They were not alone. Guards were leaning on the helicopter. Aimee and Stefan stood still. He would have told her to run and taken the guys out on his own on different circumstances, but he spotted at least one gun in each of the tall, black coat wearing guards' pockets. He did not care about his crutches.

One guard stepped up to them and said something in French. Stefan translated it to himself. "How convenient; the only threat is in crutches already," the man remarked.

Then he spoke in English; "Who's the chick?" he asked rudely.

"Excuse me?" Aimee posed back.

"You are American. You speak English, oui?"

"I'm not an idiot and I'm not a 'chick'!"

"Oh? What are you then, a boy?"

It was obvious he was trying to annoy her. It was working, she was furious, but she tried to calm down. Inhale, and then exhale.

"Don't hurt the girl," Stefan warned him. "You'll regret it. Trust me."

The man pulled a face; he was certainly insulted. Aimee smirked. The man gritted his fists and the rest of them aimed their guns, but the man told them not to fire their weapons.

"Just grab them," he ordered in French.

Numerous men bordered Stefan and Aimee before carrying them inside. Aimee's squirming made her heavier to carry, but soon they were all standing in the enormous elevator in the foyer of the skyscraper. One of the guards hit the button to the top floor. Stefan was fretted. Forget about the bodyguards, he knew what was waiting for them once they reached the top floor; Aimee's mother.