| "Aftermath" | ||
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Monday 12th May 2008 02.00hrs She groaned, the pain in her head was like a sledgehammer battering at her skull, she felt as though her head was in a hundred pieces; when she opened her eyes, she found she was lying on one of the couches in her apartment and Michael was sitting on the other watching her closely, she raised a hand to her head and felt a lump over her temple giving her the clue that he had used the gun to knock her out. She opened her mouth, but the words didn't come at first, eventually she managed to speak, though her voice was dry and harsh, "You should have done it Michael, now I have no choice," she looked up at the ceiling, trying to imagine what death was like; surely it could be no harder than living. He stood up and walked towards her, she was struck by how thin he had become, how his cheekbones jutted out and how haunted his eyes look, and realized that he was a merely a reflection of herself that she had seen in the mirror earlier in the day. He said nothing but bent down, and handed her his weapon, disbelievingly she stood up slowly, the pain in her head forgotten, before reaching for the gun and before he could stop her she placed the muzzle in her mouth, tasting the metallic tang on her tongue of the spent bullet last fired. The seconds passed so slowly that time seemed to stop, but she was aware that the sensation of time passing so slowly was just an illusion. She pulled the trigger, closing her eyes at the same time, not wanting her last sight to be his look of sorrow. The click of the hammer on an empty chamber disappointed her. It was all too easy; she thought sadly, a test to see how serious she was. She turned towards him, he had move to stand by her side, she held out the gun towards him, "Please.." she wept pleading for his assistance; he took her in his arms, holding her tightly while she cried the bitter tears of disappointment. *********** Michael's story I had no idea of what events triggered this change in Saf, her eyes were dead, despite the warmth of her body, and since her tears she had said nothing, as though she had retreated into herself. She was quiet, unresponsive, and uncommunicative; yet I needed her to talk to me, tell me what was wrong, how to fix it. I held her in my arms, she was passive, but I couldn't let her out of my sight for fear that she would try again and this time succeed. Something connected me to this woman, perhaps it was because I saw myself in her, but Madeline's training ensured that I now hide my cares behind a mask of indifference, whereas Saf displays hers openly, almost obviously at times. We sat like that all night; I talked nonsense to her, about the places I had visited, anything to kill the silence. I couldn't tell her that there was no way back, if she couldn't make if on the outside then `they' would kill her and if she failed, then the futures of the other operatives would be examined closely; I couldn't allow her to do that, too much was at stake to risk all over one operative. She wasn't asleep, her eyes were open, but she was locked in a place that was deep in her mind. I realised that I had to get her back from there; she couldn't be allowed to give up, not now, not ever. I carried her upstairs, to the bathroom, undressed her and put her under the shower, turning it to icy cold. She slid to the floor, and lay curled up her eyes open and unseeing. I had no other choice; I stripped off and stood under the chilling water, holding her against me. I turned her face to the torrent, and slapped her hard enough to get her attention on me. It worked, not great; she fought me, trying to get away from the icy water and the pain. I continued to hold her there, until my body felt numb with cold, and then I lifted her out and into a warm towel. I rubbed her dry, vigorously until she squirmed in my hold, and her skin glowed red.She looked up, and the pain and misery in her eyes were there for all to see. I held her close then, and softly whispered, "I can help you, but you need to talk to me, tell me what is wrong�" I carried her to the bed, and slipped her underneath the covers. When I tried to move away, to the chair she reached for my arm and wouldn't allow me to move away. I sat next to her on the bed, and held her against me. She remained looking at the ceiling but finally she started to talk. I found it difficult to believe her, yet her tale was plausible. She had a temper, that had been apparent since her first days at Section, but she had always had control over it; never had it managed to spiral out of control before, now she felt she were losing grip over everything. She explained about wanting to kill Paige when she had released her that morning. Paige, her training partner, the closest thing she had to a friend at Section and all because of her involvement with Konstantin's death. She had fought hard to keep it under control back at SH2, but she was scared, she couldn't do it forever and she was afraid that one day she wouldn't or couldn't hold it back. When finally she fell silent again, I was left wondering how to help her. She had described how this wasn't the first time and she had tried mental controls with the aid of meditation, but wasn't able to maintain them. I knew I couldn't leave her like this; she was too unstable to leave for any length of time. When she finally slipped into a light sleep, I slipped off the bed and rang Section and contacted Dr Gideon, asking him for details on anything and everything that had been used on her before she had left Section to join the SIA. Gideon listened without interrupting until I finished, then he agreed to delve into the files; he would contact me with details, if he found anything of interest. 11.35hrs I returned to take a seat on her bed, I hadn't mean to fall asleep, but I had ridden for hours to reach her and the bed was comfortable. I woke with a start, the cell phone vibrating in my pocket. She was laying pretty much the same as she had done when she fell asleep, though her body was tense and taut, which meant she wanted me to believe she was still asleep. I let her lie there pretending, while I answered the call. "Oui." I stood up and opening the doors I moved out onto the balcony. The stiff breeze ruffled its fingers through my hair, but it cleared my head. Dr Gideon was blunt and straight to the point, his voice bitter. "It could be a result of the drug cocktail fed to her during the last mission for Section, or it could be the drugs that were given to her to wean her off the addiction." He paused, his anger apparent in his voice when he continued, "when she was brought back into Section, Madeline had a drug tested on her, glyconutramine inhibitor variant 17b. I found the information buried amongst Madeline's notes, apparently it was supposed to make subjects more receptive to orders." I found myself breathing deeply, if the drugs given to her by the thugs involved with Immersion hadn't been enough, now I found that yet again Madeline had used operatives as experiments. First she had tried to indoctrinate Nikita by using the Gelman process, and very nearly succeeded. Now she was responsible for playing God again by giving Saf this drug, and the wretched woman was still at liberty to continue her work at Section 4. Who else had she played god with? "Michael, are you still there?" Gideon's voice was edgy. "Yes. I am still here. Do you have any suggestions on how to proceed?" my voice was quiet, and calm. If nothing could be done to retrieve the situation, then I would have to kill her. Something she said she wanted, but I didn't want to have to do, it would be like killing my child for she was a part of me. Not only that, but I would have to make it look as though it happened after a random break-in, making her death a decoy which would take the heat off of the other agents. The problem with the last scenario was the bruising she had received during our fight last night, it wouldn't be easy to disguise successfully, nor could I make her simply disappear, without questions being asked. I could only hope that Gideon could come up with a workable solution to the problem. ~~~~~~~~~~~ Monday 12th May 2008 09.30hrs She felt him lying there next to her, and without moving she looked over seeing his profile. He was relaxed in his sleep, though she knew if she moved, he would wake from his light sleep immediately. Closing her eyes again, she tried to remember what she had told him, it was like a living nightmare and one she couldn't seem to wake up from. The deep clenching in her bowels, the tenseness of her body and mind, it was as though there was a battle of stresses and strains going on within her mind, fighting for control of her body. She managed to stay still, selecting muscle groups and relaxing them until she felt could lie still. She closed her eyes, shutting out the world that she neither desired nor wanted to be a part of any longer, letting the greyness occupy her until she no longer could tell where she existed or even if she did. She heard him move, feeling the bed lighten as he stood up and then she felt the fresh clean air as he opened the door to the balcony, she stayed motionless on the bed as though still deep in slumbers, as he softly spoke into his cell phone on a call that she supposed would decide her fate. Somehow it didn't seem so important any more, any of it, she retreated to her inner refuge and closed herself off from the world. The calmness she found there, gave her some sort of peace, that drew her deeper into the void. 12.30hrs "I know you are not sleeping. Get up." His voice was harsh, and as much as she tried to ignore him, hoping he would go away, he was persistent. "Saf, get up. Now." He whisked back the covers and she motionless, exposed; naked to the light of day. She felt him lift her effortlessly off the bed, she lay limply against him and then she felt the slap of his hand on her face, forcing her to lift herself; she couldn't ignore him, he was too persistent. He kept on, slapping and shouting at her until she was standing on her own two feet, "Get dressed. Put on some running gear." His voice was quiet, but with authority behind it, she knew he wouldn't hesitate to hit her again. He pulled out some pants and a top from the closet, and made her get dressed. Anytime she stopped or slowed, he would slap her, not directly talking to her, instead just giving her orders and expected her to obey. Finally she was dressed and ready though unwilling, and he pushed her stumbling figure in front of him, until they reached the track near the apartment. "Run" he ordered. She tried to shake her head, protesting at the treatment he was issuing, but he simply pulled her along with him at his pace; a punishing, gruelling pace, eating up the track, mile after mile after mile. When she tried to stop, he picked up the pace, pulling her along. When she fell, he simply pulled her to her feet, and pushed her along the track until she sustained a decent pace, he continued this torture for hour after hour, even the setting of the sun didn't stop him. Exhausted, she stopped and this time she collapsed onto the ground, unable to get up, gasping for breath. He ran to her side and pulled her to her feet, walked with her, not letting her stop, until she finally she couldn't even control that motion and she started to wobble across the track in a wandering line. She was in danger of total collapse, but still he made her go on. She had no voice left to scream at him with, it had long since gone, not even a husky whisper remained; just a soft whimper was all that she managed to make in her throat in protest. She didn't remember falling that last time, only the impact she made on the ground, feeling the gravel rough on her cheek and then mercifully blackness engulfed her. She came to, being held in his arms as he carried her back to her apartment; she couldn't move a muscle, physically exhausted, unable to even care about what he would do next. Once inside, he took her to the bathroom, and holding her upright stripped off their sodden clothes and then holding her against him, he carried her into the shower. The deluge of warm water washed the sweat from her body, and her muscles, abused by the hours of physical activity couldn't support her weight and she felt herself slipping and was unable to hold herself up. He caught hold of her, forcing her to stand upright, "You have to do this, you have to sweat them out. Gideon says the drugs are affecting you, some residues remain in your system." His voice was husky, raw. She looked up at him, watching him as he stood there with her. A small part of her was amazed that he was helping her this way, going through it with her; she felt as though he were giving her some of his strength and it gave her encouragement that she could make it work. The next few days were just a blur, he didn't let up on her, she was permitted to take only short rests, punctuated by bursts of intense strenuous activity, and it left her feeling like a zombie. She ate when he told her to eat, though afterwards she couldn't have said what she had eaten, she drank water by the bucket load. When she threw up, he held her to him, giving her encouragement and strength to continue. When her hands shook so badly that she couldn't hold a glass, he held it for her so that she could drink. When she had the chills he wrapped her in a blanket until the shakes eased. Every moment of pain and suffering she experienced was accompanied by his sympathy and understanding. She was permitted no drugs, no painkillers for the agonising headaches; instead he would hold an icepack to her head and neck or massaged her tense muscles until the pain eased, then after a brief pause he would drive her on to yet more physical exhaustion. Return |
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