Sometimes 
by LesliWeird

        A cold wind buffeted newspapers off the damp darks streets and
sent them spinning away to crash into light posts and pedestrians, and
then spin off again, into the night. Hadji Singh idly plucked a sheet of
day old New York news off of his arm and dropped it into the trash can.
Pulling himself deeper into his coat, he tried to ignore the smell of the
city. The wind that reached the Quest compound swept in over the ocean and
carried a scent of freedom and the purity that comes from that freedom.
Here the air carried the smell of garbage cans and a thousand people
living in a cold concrete jungle. He would be glad when he caught the next
bus back to Maine. 
        He paused at the mouth of an alley, the familiar sounds of a brawl
reaching his ears. Any one else in the city might have ignored it, it was
none of their business after all, but Hadji glided into the darkness to
investigate.
        Two large bull like men stood over another, smaller figure, who
huddled fearfully on the wet ground. Hadji looked hard at the two, broad
shouldered and clothed in dingy faded denim, they looked tough. If talk
failed, he was not sure he could handle them in a fight. The slight figure
raised it's head, catching for a moment the yellow light of a street lamp.
Hadji's dark eyes met the pale, scared, dirty face of a young woman. Her
mouth worked silently, forming a single word over and over. Please. One of
the men raised his fist. 
        "NO!" Hadji cried out. Both of the thugs turned toward him, fists
clenched menacingly. Talk was clearly not an option. Hadji balanced
lightly on the balls of his feet, as he had learned from his martial arts
training under Race, and raised his hands in a fighting stance. The goons
exchanged amused grins. Surely this kid wasn't serious! One of them swung
his fist lazily at Hadji's jaw, but he swerved around it, caught it in his
own hand, and followed through, sending the larger, off-balance fighter
slamming face first into the solid steel side of a dumpster. The other
goon's bravado faded somewhat. The boy was tougher than he looked. He gave
the girl a kick in the ribs for good measure and then ran out of the far
side of the alley. 
        Hadji knelt down beside her, reaching toward her shoulder
comfortingly. With a cough and a sob, she retreated from his hand,
crouching in a corner, cradling her knees against her chest. Hadji's face
softened as he looked at her. All the dirt in the world could not hide her
attractiveness. Short brown hair curved around her pale face in a
disheveled bob. She was slight, delicate, though she tried to cover it up
with an old leather jacket. Her face, now buried in between her knees, had
been like an angel's, with some ethereal quality he couldn't identify. She
was beautiful and she needed his help. 
        "I will not hurt you," he said softly, offering her his hand
again. "Are you all right?" 
        "No," she sobbed miserably. "I'm not all right. No. I'm as
far...from all rightas you can get." Hadji found himself closer to her
than he had been a second ago, though he did not remember moving, his
steady hand on her shoulder. 
        "You cannot stay here. Let me get you something to eat." She
looked up at him, tears forming ivory rivers in the dirt. Her sobbing
lessened, and she let him help her up and walk her to a small café a block
away. 

        "What is your name?" Hadji asked as the young woman returned from
the bathroom. She had stopped crying. Her face was washed and her hair
straightened. She hugged her leather jacket tightly to her as she sat down
across from him. 
        "Angela." She answered taking the cup of coffee he offered her.
"Angela Harris. And you are...?" 
        "Hadji Singh. It is a pleasure to meet you." He took her hand and
after a moment's pause, brought it to his lips. She hesitated for a
second, then jerked her hand back. She didn't look at him. 
        "Thank you, for saving me. But it would be better if you left me
alone.  You're in trouble as long as you're with me." 
        "You mean those men...?" 
        "Were after me. Yes." Angela seemed to shrink back into her
jacket. She stared purposefully down into her coffee. 
        "But why?" Hadji asked, leaning towards her. Now she did look up
at him. Her deep green eyes studied his, scanning for some ulterior
motive. She sighed and looked away from him again. When she spoke again,
her voice was on the verge of tears. 
        "I...about a two days ago, I saw...a man...murder someone. He
was...someone important, I can't tell you who because-" her voice broke
down into a sob again. Hadji cradled her small hand in his until she
regained enough composure to speak again. "He has Sara. He said he'd KILL
her if I told anybody. I told him I wouldn't. I promised him! He sent
those guys to make it look like a mugging, so no one would suspect him.
God! Sara's probably dead already!" She was crying again. He moved next to
her and she wept into his chest, while he cradled her softly. He did not
ask who Sara was. The anguish in Angela's voice made it obvious she was
someone very close. 
        His hand caressed her slender back with the gentle touch of a
friend, someone to turn to in the darkest hour. Then, moving almost
without his control, it glided up across her neck to her ghostly cheek.
She looked up at him and he looked down at her. He tilted his head to kiss
her and for an instant their lips touched, then she pulled away from him.
        "I'm sorry," she whispered, as she stood and walked slowly out of
the clear glass door into the night. 

        Hadji caught up to Angela easily, but she refused to look at him,
staring instead at the sidewalk below her. The cold made her short hair
dance around her delicate face. She looked sad, frightened, and alone.
        "Angela..." he began imploringly. 
        "No, I know what I have to do, and I can't ask you to come with
me." Her pace quickened. 
        "Angela, I want to help you." 
        "No. I have to see DeViro alone." Hadji stopped dead in his
tracks. DeViro?  DeViro the Congressman? This was the murderer she had
been talking about? If so it was no wonder he wanted to silence her
forever. And it was beyond doubt he could. 
        "He'll kill you!" 
        "Maybe I can get him to let Sara go. If-" Hadji stopped her. 
        "DeViro will not let Sara go now. She must know him for what he
is, and he cannot allow anyone to have that knowledge! He would kill you
both." Angela wheeled around, turning on him furiously. 
        "Well what the Hell am I supposed to do?!?" she yelled, attracting
a glance or two from the faceless crowd. "Snuggle up with you while
someone who I care for...argh!" she could not finish, she turned her back
on him and began walking again, her shoulders heaving in angry sobs. Hadji
caught up to her again. 
        "Get away from me, you bastard." Her words were soft, but they cut
Hadji like a razor blade. He cursed himself for not thinking. She was
absolutely right.  His coppery skin deepened in a flush. 
        "I want to help you, Angela." She glared up at him, then her anger
faded into acquiescence. 

        "You are sure DeViro will be here?" Hadji asked, connecting his
laptop to the phone lines of an elegant hotel. 
        "This is where he's met me before. He'll be expecting me when his
goons tell him they didn't kill me." Angela still did not look at him, but
spoke off toward the tall buildings that rose up to block out the sky. As
Hadji hacked into the security system, waves of guilt rolled across his
consciousness. He should not have kissed her. Her rejection stung him
deeply, as did the knowledge that he had acted without even thinking of
her turmoil. Within minutes, he had planted a command inside the main
security system, as he and Angela had agreed. 
        Closing the laptop he hid it under a pile of rubbish and motioned
to her that it was time to go. 

        They made their way to the penthouse suite easily, avoiding anyone
who happened by. Angela signaled Hadji to stay behind and walked slowly,
as if to the gallows, to the door. A fat man opened it, and ushered her
in. Hadji aimed carefully, then tossed a borrowed fork between the door
and the frame so that it did not close all the way. He checked his watch.
three minutes left till his programming kicked in. He crept cautiously to
the door, open now to just a crack, and peered in. The room was dimly lit.
He could make out the shapes of DeViro and Angela silhouetted against a
large window. 
        "...told anyone have you?" DeViro was asking. His broad back was
turned to the door. 
        "Where's Sara?" DeViro pointed somewhere out of Hadji's sight. He
heard muffled sobs. A dark shape moving behind Angela caught Hadji's eye.
There was someone else in there! This was not good. DeViro must intend to
kill Angela and Sara now. Still two minutes left.
        "Let her go. It's me you want." The dark shape moved closer to
Angela, and metal glinted. A minute and a half. Hadji took a deep breath
and burst through the door towards the dark figure. He rammed into the
thug from the alley, knocking him backwards. The gun the big man was
holding went off harmlessly, sending the bullet into the ceiling. Rolling
as he landed, Hadji saw Sara bound and gagged in the corner. She was about
Angela's age, short black hair cropped close to her head in a boyish cut,
and a look of absolute terror on her face.
        The thug hit the wall with a groan. Quickly, though, he was back
on his feet, glaring at Hadji with violent hatred. The young man smiled
secretively. It didn't matter, his program was running by now. 

        A dozen boots clomped against the stairs, echoing up though the
hotel.  Accompanying these heavy thuds was the exclamation of : "Fire in
the Penthouse!!" 

        The big man swung his fist, catching Hadji in the jaw and knocking
him to the ground. He picked up the pistol and aimed for a point somewhere
in the folds of Hadji's turban, just as DeViro wrapped his fat hands
around Angela's throat. Hadji closed his eyes tightly and hoped his next
incarnation would have wings. 
        Suddenly, a crash came from the doorway. Six firemen stood aghast,
taking in the scene in the congressman's room. One of them brandished an
ax menacingly, and DeViro and his henchman raised their hands in
surrender. 
        Angela, freed from the choke hold, coughed and sank to the floor.
Hadji made a move towards her, but before he could reach her, she was up
and dashing to where Sara lay. Angela removed the gag delicately and then
kissed Sara fully and deeply on the mouth. 

        Hadji squinted up into the fluorescent lights of the police
station's waiting room. It must be four in the morning by now. He had
missed his bus to Maine by perhaps six hours. He should probably call Dr.
Quest. People around him gabbed on noisily, so he did not even hear Angela
approach. 
        "Hadji..." she said softly. He looked at her with an almost blank
expression.  He felt surprised and tired and though he hated to admit it,
betrayed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you the whole truth about me and Sara.
It's just..." She crouched down by his chair so she could look into his
eyes. "The truth is, Hadji, I really did like you. But Sara needs me. She
hasn't got a home, or a family that wants her. And I love her. I...I just
didn't want you to hate me."  Hadji smiled wearily and gave Angela a hug,
as a friend who would be there in the darkest hour.