Author's Note: This is just a cute little drabble I wrote out of extreme boredom during our two-hour math lesson. It's based on the ending of 5x05 Lucky Thirteen, and we all know the blonde was, in fact, Cameron (it's just that she has no idea).

It's actually a bit of a songfic because Annie Lennox – Dark Road inspired me to write this in the first place. I highly recommend listening to it whilst reading.

English is not my first language so I'm very sorry for any errors. If you see any, let me know :)


Freedom.

The pill seems almost sweet on your tongue in spite of its actual sour flavor, diving into your system with the promise of serenity. You think about what you're feeling right now. You longed for the pill, you strove for the pill, and now you have the pill and it feels great. This must be what true love is like, you think. As it quickly dissolves and releases chemicals into your veins and everything is silent but there's fireworks inside of you, you realize you're in love with the pill. It's taking a wild ride through your throat now, so cold it burns yet so hot you're freezing.

The blonde next to you is whispering sugar-coated words in your ear, but you're not listening anymore. She's touching you, but you're not feeling it at all. Your ears only hear the music played by your beloved pill and your body only feels the ecstasy it's producing. You can only feel what your pill wants you to feel, but you're too numb to realize you're just another of its mindless slaves to serve for its amusement. It doesn't love you back, but you're clueless. You're thoroughly consumed by the orchestra playing in your head, the violins, the violoncellos, the piano and the flutes. The pill is your conductor, directing every tone of the performance.

You don't even notice her hand has already reached the not-so-sacred plains beneath your skirt and here comes the chorus. Chills run down your spine in unison with the play's climax as the violins, the violoncellos, the piano and the flutes all pull off their highest chord and sweat glistens on the conductor's bare forehead.

The show is over. The world is blurry, but slowly, carefully, the details reveal themselves to you as if afraid of what you might do when you see them. The naked body beside you is sound asleep.

You can't hear the music anymore and you panic. But don't worry, it will all come back. The conductor will return when you swallow another pill.

There's a feeling
But you're not feeling it at all
There's a meaning
But you're not listening anymore…