Hey guys! This will most likely be a five-shot, dedicated to VannHazel who asked for this request over two months ago. I apologize for the wait, but I do hope you like it! Please Enjoy the first chapter of "Titanium"...

Twitter: TheCliffyG

No Beta Reader, so ignore mistakes if any :)

For those who plan on reading my fics (or have read past ones), please read the important A/N at the bottom!

Titanium

I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose, fire away, fire away, ricochet, you take your aim, fire away, fire away

CLARE

"Mr. Baker wants you in his office," I look up at Fiona, my bosses secratary, as she smiles comfortingly, clutching onto a bunch of tossed papers in her arms. "Don't worry, it's just about the new message board going up in next weeks edition."

With one swift roll of my computer chair, I make my way into my bosses office and knock three times.

"Is it Clare?" He askes obnoxiously loud, knowing it couldn't be anybody else.

"It's me," I sing sarcastically, rolling my eyes as I make my way into his office without permission, and take a seat in front of him.

"What did you want to speak with me about, boss?" I cross my arms over my chest, watching Luke mimic my actions, "Well, I was on my way to work this morning and the rain really got me thinking..."

"About what?" My brow arches, curiosity rising in my body.

"About us."

An annoyed sigh escapes my lips as I rub my temples; a pathetic attempt to calm myself down. Of course Luke would invite me into his office to flirt with me and not give me an opportunity to give my advice for the new message board going out next week.

"Luke, I told you-," he cuts me off, grinning, "I know, you need time. But honestly Clare, I think if you gave me a chance, you'd be happy with me. You've been working here for two years, and I think it's been enough time."

"Just one night," he pleads, biting into his apple, "That's all I ask of you."

I scoff, making my way to the office door, "I wouldn't go out with you, even if someone had a gun to my head."

"Don't wish things so cruel upon yourself Clare. You're testing God's abilities." There he goes again, trying to get me to believe that God will punish me for my words. And yet, the only way he has punished me was letting my parents get a divorce when I was sixteen, sending me an emotionally abusive boyfriend, and then sticking me at a job with an egotistical, perverted boss.

Maybe I should watch my words.

"Have a good day, Mr. Baker," I use his formal name, knowing it pisses him off and makes the pulsing vein in his neck twitch.

"CALL ME LUKE!" He calls out, drawing attention from everyone who was standing outside his office, waiting to converse with him.

As I take a seat at my desk, and go through my written files, I begin to edit the parts of the newspaper that people have sent me. Lucky for me, I get to spend my whole Friday night editing Sunday nights newspaper.

Yay.

"Hey," I glance to my left, to see my co-worker Ellie, toying with her necklace, "What happened with Mr. Baker?"

I shrugged my shoulders, biting into some cold pasta, "You know, the same old crap. I try to treat him like shit back to his face, but he doesn't even take it to heart. He ignores it, then continues on his pity speech about how he deserves a chance with me since he gave me my "dream job"."

"When are you going to quit this shitty job and write a book?" Ellie asks, pulling out her phone. I roll my eyes in her direction, retorting, "When are you going to quit this shitty job and go to a tablet that'll actually appreciate your skills?"

Her cheeks turn slightly red as she ignores my words, "Craig got a gig! He got a gig and guess where it is?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure you're going to tell me," I tease, facing Ellie as she squeals, "PARIS!"

"You two use protection and have fun," Ellie smacks my arm playfully, biting back her bottom lip, and it looks like, realization is dawning on her.

"What's wrong?" I ask, keeping my eyes on the screen before me but my concentration is on my friend of five years. She's been with me through it all; back stabbing friends, controlling parents, Drew, and even assisting me through my darkest years.

"I think he's going to pop the question," she whispers, "I think he's going to do it in Paris. I-I've been waiting since high school for this..."

"It looks like you've got a lot of shopping to do and preparing. Here, I'll work your shift overtime and keep you clocked in until I leave. Don't worry, it'll just be me here until midnight anyways, no one will notice. You see, everone is going home." Ellie looked nervously around as I pointed to the people packing up their belongings at their desks, filing out the door in frantic beelines.

"Are you sure Clare?" She asks, and I start to pack up her stuff for her. "Go Ellie, I promise, it's fine. I have nothing else to do anyways tonight. Do you know how many times you've let me leave early?"

"...Yes, but-," Ellie tries to prove a point, but fails miserably.

"Go, I got this. Have fun, text me when you land and all that mushy goodness," I say confidently, pushing her into the sea of people.

In less than twenty minutes, the office is dark and empty, aside of the lamp above my computer. Even though it's only nine o' clock, my eyelids start to grow heavy from the strain of the computer light blaring into my eyes.

"...Maybe I'll just take a quick cat nap, what's the harm in that?"

ELI

"I'm home," I call out, flipping my shoes into the basket sitting on the stairs. Removing the top of my uniform, I toss it into the dirty bin, before making my way into the living room.

"I said I'm home," I repeated, but received no attention from my wife as she stared at the mindless television show before her.

"Did you cook dinner?" I ask, irritation coming over my body as she pointsto the kitchen. Her glance didn't even leave the bullshit series in front of her, "I ate out tonight with an old friend, but there's some bread in the kitchen. You have two hands, make a sandwich or something."

"You know, I'm getting fed up with your shit," her head cranes to my view, and scoffs, "What shit? I'm watching television, it's almost eleven at night and you want me to cook you a buffet? I'm tired Eli, there's no shit to be fed up about."

"No," my lip twitched a bit, "There is. I work everyday, from six in the morning until ten thirty at night while you sit on your ass and do nothing! I risk my life everyday with my job, and you don't even care!"

"I do care!" She shouts, and I shake my head, muttering under my breath, "You don't act like it."

"What did you say?" There's venom in her voice, practically dripping in her tone.

I scoff, deciding to raise hell.

"I almost got shot today, okay? I almost get shot everyday and when I tell you, you ignore me and watch fucking T.V.! I'm fed up with your shit Imogen; I thought when I married you that I'd at least come home to a decent fucking meal when I haven't eaten all day and talked a psycho out of not shooting up a bank full of innocent people!"

My stomach growls, and turns uncomfortable when I hear my work beeper go off in my pocket.

She laughs, "Work again? You don't even have time to argue with me Eli! Shouldn't that be a message to you that you need to stop working so much? You're never here! We haven't sat down at our table together in-."

Imogen stops talking when I dig through my pants, and pull out my beeper, seeing an address pop up, "And now you're ignoring me?"

"I have a call, it's important. Someone's in trouble downtown," I grab a clean uniform hanging up in the spare closet, slipping it on quickly as Imogen asks, "Why can't the police on duty handle it?"

"Not all police officers are trained for this kind of stuff. But when it happens, someone has to save lives," I whisper, "You can go to sleep now, you don't have to worry about a loved one being killed anyways."

She tries to grab my arm as I flip my keys into my hand, "Don't even try to act like you care, because you don't!"

I hear a whimper, and it burns my ears, knowing it's as fake as her so called passionate "love" for me. The distant look in her eyes says a thousand words, and three of those is 'I hate you'.

When I slam the door of my car, I look down at my beeper, and a warm feeling fills my body, knowing I could save a life-do something good tonight.

1518 Kimball Road

Toronto Tablet Newspaper

Number of hostages: 1

Gender of hostage: Female

Name of hostage: Clare Edwards

My foot slams down on the accelerator, as I place my light on the top of the roof, my car jerking from lane to lane around drivers to get downtown before this guy decides to pull the gun on Clare Edwards.

I don't know her, and I don't need to, to know that she's in trouble, and she's scared.

But what she doesn't know, is that I will save her, even if it takes a bullet to my heart.

END OF CHAPTER 1

Review and I'll upload quicker (hopefully) ;D

PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please keep in mind that this is FICTION. It takes a lot of work to write these-and I love writing-so I don't want to feel discouraged (and not want to write) anymore by people telling me what I already know. I know what's realistic, and what's not, but I choose to put what's not since it is FICTION. And I don't say this to be mean, or anything to get back at someone, I'm just saying to please-please keep an open mind when reading my fanfiction.

Love you guys,

Cliffhanger Girl

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