Chapter 1: Numb
Disclaimer: This story is for entertainment purposes only. The characters herein are the property of J.J. Abrams, Touchstone Television, and Bad Robot.
This chapter is dedicated to RACH2503, Thank you for always coming back!
Numb. Piercing, blinding pain. Icy cold burning pain. And then the numbness. She recited the words to a Johnny Cash song in her head to keep her wits about her until it was over. She was trained for this. What she was not trained for was the piercing blue eyes that burned holes in her as the smoothly biting accent ordered the pain to stop. Such a contradiction how alike they were.
"I apologize. You will be taken to your rooms now, fed and allowed to bathe when you wish." She vaguely wondered if he was always so formal, but then again she supposed he was. She then realized he was expecting some sort of response, a thank you perhaps. Instead he received a curt nod as she was led away.
The cell she was led to was roomier than her previous and even included a shower and an actual stall for bathroom privacy. How thoughtful, She could feel herself compartmentalizing the pain for a more pressing need. The anger was always more pressing. There was a soft knock before the door opened.
"I trust you are decent, no doubt sweeping the room." There were no questions, statements of what he'd come to expect of her. "The cameras do not cover the shower or latrine areas, but we will see if you attempt anything. I hope this is more satisfactory than…" To his credit, he actually winced. "That was not the plan. A subordinate overstepped their bounds. You will not be mistreated again."
Another curt nod was the only response he'd get. "I'd like for you to feel a guest here. I put a stop to all of those pleasantries as soon as I knew you were here. You'll find fresh linens for a shower and a wardrobe that I hope you find to your liking while you are here. I'd appreciate you joining me for dinner at 8 this evening. That will give you some time to get ready I presume and then we can talk about why you are here." He turned to leave and then continued with one last look over his shoulder. "No funny business please. I'd like to have my physician attend to you before you attempt to kill my civilian staff." He bowed his head slightly and then was gone.
A guest, here, with Sark of all people! Even in her head she could hear the insanity of it all. She breathed out a deep sigh and decided the first thing she should do was find the linens and wardrobe that had been picked out for her. His choice of clothing, while all expensive as she'd assumed, were mostly up to her taste, irritatingly so. She showered, letting the warm droplets cascade down her slender frame and hoped they would help heal some of the pain and tension that seemed to be deep wired into her DNA.
Another knock at the door this one louder and more demanding than before. She went to the door to find a stout older Indian man with an old timey doctor's bag. "I am Mr. Sark's physician, Timothy Tovah Rahiq." He half bowed to her before motioning for permission to enter her room. She stepped aside and opened the door a little wider for him. Leave it to Sark to pick a doctor whose name means a good wine, she thought begrudgingly. "I'd like to examine you if that would be alright, Miss." She nodded her consent and as he began setting out the things he would need to treat her wounds she spoke for the first time since she'd gotten here, almost forgetting she was being watched.
"Sydney." He looked up at her, confusion etched across his face. "My name. It's Sydney, Sydney Bristow." The old man nodded and smiled.
"This may be a bit uncomfortable, Sydney."
I have taken a brief hiatus from all other stories. I hope to have them updated soon! I love you guys! :)