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Jun. 28th, 2006 08:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gabriel_tamIn the blurred haze of worry and work, exhaustion and stress-- not to mention the effort of marking the local time zones in any number of cities on several planets-- it would be easy to lose track of how many days have passed. He hasn't, though. Gabriel knows exactly how long it's been since they were taken. He's been counting the hours off against an inner clock, comparing the time that's passed to his own previous experience.
If there's a procedure to such things, to their methods of interrogation-- if there's a pattern, then there's still time left, he thinks. Not much, but perhaps it will be enough.
The arraignment hearing is scheduled for tomorrow, on the Valerius Justiciary Station. They can't attend; it's closed to interested parties as well as to the general public. In the interests of a fair and equitable hearing the media will be present and reporting over the 'waves, thanks to briefs and motions spearheaded by the actions of Verrou Faire Denoument, and so they will at least be able to watch. The largest Cortex screen here in their Londinium apartment has already been moved into place in the center of the living room, well in advance of the broadwave.
But all of that is for tomorrow, and there's nothing left to do tonight, save try to sleep. It takes a while, but eventually his exhaustion wins the battle against his restless thoughts; Gabriel's eyes close, and his breathing deepens as he falls into true sleep.
And dreams.
Shadows, everywhere there are shadows, tilting and yawing and slanting crazily across his blurred vision with stripes of light between like blinding claws. Gabriel blinks desperately, trying to lean to the side so he can see past the slouching monstrous form in front of him.
He can't move. The (rotting spider-silk) wall at his back is sticky and holds him like glue. He can feel it under and around his hands as his fingertips sink in, as if pressed into the overripe flesh of some nauseatingly gelid fruit.
Standing in front of him, Cathcart smiles cruelly, showing too many teeth (like knives) as he lowers his blue-gloved hand, a hand that holds a familiar thin metal stick with a glowing blue wand at each end. His words are a wolf's vicious snarl, ripping the air through the bleeding rictus of his insane grin.
"We want information. You haven't given it to us. So we'll take it."
Cathcart steps aside, revealing the room behind him. His partner Charrington stands at the head of a tilted medi-stretcher, a scalpel held delicately in his fingers.
River's on the table, fragile in a thin white hospital gown. She's bound and chained, and her hair whips around her in a tangle as she struggles, sobbing wildly,
"No, no, no -- needles in her eyes, fingers in her brain, no more -- bà bà please come, please!"
Gabriel sucks in a breath to answer and is blocked by latex-clad fingers pressed hard against his lips. From beside him, Cathcart growls, "You gave up, remember?" He fights, a muffled noise escaping, and the wolf slams his head back against the wall with a hiss. "Shhhh."
(all is silent in the halls of the dead)
On the other side of the room, Charrington makes the first slice, and a fuming yellow-orange light pours out like blood from River's brain as she screams.
"Just like peeling an orange," he exults. "Cut and tear."
"Mèimei?" It's Simon's voice, and Gabriel rolls his eyes desperately sideways, trying to see his son-- Simon had saved her before when he himself had failed--
"Mèimei, I'm coming! Hold on, River, it's Simon, I'm coming... where are you? I'll find you, it's just-- I can't--"
Simon's staggering along beside the crazily tilted wall, using it to guide him, and its sterile pale blue is scarred now with the dark stains left where he puts his hands. It's easy to find the source -- a matching crimson pours from his eyes, blind now and bleeding.
"--I can't see you, mèimei, where are you?"
Beside Gabriel, Cathcart whispers,
"They're ours now. You've lost them, Tam. You're too late."
If there's a procedure to such things, to their methods of interrogation-- if there's a pattern, then there's still time left, he thinks. Not much, but perhaps it will be enough.
The arraignment hearing is scheduled for tomorrow, on the Valerius Justiciary Station. They can't attend; it's closed to interested parties as well as to the general public. In the interests of a fair and equitable hearing the media will be present and reporting over the 'waves, thanks to briefs and motions spearheaded by the actions of Verrou Faire Denoument, and so they will at least be able to watch. The largest Cortex screen here in their Londinium apartment has already been moved into place in the center of the living room, well in advance of the broadwave.
But all of that is for tomorrow, and there's nothing left to do tonight, save try to sleep. It takes a while, but eventually his exhaustion wins the battle against his restless thoughts; Gabriel's eyes close, and his breathing deepens as he falls into true sleep.
And dreams.
Shadows, everywhere there are shadows, tilting and yawing and slanting crazily across his blurred vision with stripes of light between like blinding claws. Gabriel blinks desperately, trying to lean to the side so he can see past the slouching monstrous form in front of him.
He can't move. The (rotting spider-silk) wall at his back is sticky and holds him like glue. He can feel it under and around his hands as his fingertips sink in, as if pressed into the overripe flesh of some nauseatingly gelid fruit.
Standing in front of him, Cathcart smiles cruelly, showing too many teeth (like knives) as he lowers his blue-gloved hand, a hand that holds a familiar thin metal stick with a glowing blue wand at each end. His words are a wolf's vicious snarl, ripping the air through the bleeding rictus of his insane grin.
"We want information. You haven't given it to us. So we'll take it."
Cathcart steps aside, revealing the room behind him. His partner Charrington stands at the head of a tilted medi-stretcher, a scalpel held delicately in his fingers.
River's on the table, fragile in a thin white hospital gown. She's bound and chained, and her hair whips around her in a tangle as she struggles, sobbing wildly,
"No, no, no -- needles in her eyes, fingers in her brain, no more -- bà bà please come, please!"
Gabriel sucks in a breath to answer and is blocked by latex-clad fingers pressed hard against his lips. From beside him, Cathcart growls, "You gave up, remember?" He fights, a muffled noise escaping, and the wolf slams his head back against the wall with a hiss. "Shhhh."
(all is silent in the halls of the dead)
On the other side of the room, Charrington makes the first slice, and a fuming yellow-orange light pours out like blood from River's brain as she screams.
"Just like peeling an orange," he exults. "Cut and tear."
"Mèimei?" It's Simon's voice, and Gabriel rolls his eyes desperately sideways, trying to see his son-- Simon had saved her before when he himself had failed--
"Mèimei, I'm coming! Hold on, River, it's Simon, I'm coming... where are you? I'll find you, it's just-- I can't--"
Simon's staggering along beside the crazily tilted wall, using it to guide him, and its sterile pale blue is scarred now with the dark stains left where he puts his hands. It's easy to find the source -- a matching crimson pours from his eyes, blind now and bleeding.
"--I can't see you, mèimei, where are you?"
Beside Gabriel, Cathcart whispers,
"They're ours now. You've lost them, Tam. You're too late."
no subject
Date: 2006-06-29 03:32 am (UTC)Regan's been at that point for at least an hour -- it feels like much longer -- and she's heartily sick of it.
She rolls over with a sigh, resettling herself, telling her mind one last time to shut up, telling the guilt that comes with that thought that she needs to sleep and there's nothing more to be done and it'll only be a few hours. Beside her, Gabriel twists his head in restless sleep, and she brushes her hand absently down his arm, and closes her eyes again. Maybe it'll work this time.
Maybe.
And then the whole bed quivers as Gabriel jerks awake with a hoarse cry, and all thoughts of sleep are forgotten.
She shoves herself up, shocked wide-eyed and pale. "Gabriel?" The word comes out a good deal more tentative than she means it to.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-29 03:54 am (UTC)He doesn't hear her.
(they're dead River and Simon are dead)
"You're lying--"
(every friend is now dead)
His breathing is harsh and rapid, sobbing violently in and out of his lungs. Every muscle in his body is knotted with tension, every bit as tightly as his fists are knotted in the sweat-soaked sheets, fingers digging into the mattress below.
(it feels like rotting silk)
A shudder passes over him as he stares blindly into the empty dark, forcing himself to let go.
(you can never leave this room)
With a low moan, Gabriel buries his face in his hands.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-29 04:08 am (UTC)Her hands are on his shoulders, barely touching, in a half-comforting and half-wary gesture Simon would find instantly familiar. She's never seen him like this, never, and icy irrational fear coils in the pit of her stomach. Something's happened, she thinks, something bad's happened, and that makes no sense and she knows it makes no sense but that doesn't stop the jolt of dread.
"Gabriel, wake up. Please."
She hates the quiver in her voice.
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Date: 2006-06-29 04:21 am (UTC)(you are going to cooperate)
--but then something in his face relaxes, and recognition is clear.
"Regan." His breath explodes in a gasp of relief, and in the next second he's snatched her into his arms, holding her tightly.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-29 04:44 am (UTC)He's hugging her almost too tightly, but Regan doesn't utter a murmur of protest. Just holds him, and smooths a hand slowly up and down his back.
She used to do that for Simon and River, she remembers, back when they were small and had bad dreams. Back before any of them had so much fodder for nightmares.
"I'm right here."
no subject
Date: 2006-06-29 05:01 am (UTC)As the pounding rhythm of his heart slows, as the nightmare releases its cruel grip, the world around him comes back into proper focus.
"Sorry. I'm. Sorry. A dream."
Gabriel takes a shuddering breath and blows it out, then drops his head to Regan's shoulder, fighting for control over the wrenching nausea.
"Just a dream."
no subject
Date: 2006-06-29 05:29 am (UTC)She can do that.
"Just a dream," she echoes softly, and cards her fingers gently through her husband's hair.
"It's all right. Just a dream."
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Date: 2006-06-29 05:57 am (UTC)His voice is a little too thick. Gabriel knows how much of it has been real, and could be real still. Tiānna, he prays silently, desperately, let it be only a dream.
"It's all right." He pulls back a little, looking down at Regan. Gabriel tries for a smile, although it's a sick, weak effort.
"I didn't mean to scare you."
no subject
Date: 2006-06-29 06:17 am (UTC)Softly, "It's all right."
She's not scared now -- not for him or by him, anyway, not scared beyond the low-grade terror that's been a constant background since Mal waved them -- but she's worried. Oh, she's worried.
Bad dreams she understands, oh God does she understand them these days, and insomnia, but she's never seen her husband in quite this state.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-29 06:35 am (UTC)"Still, I'm sorry I woke you."
The room is dark, but he doesn't make any move to turn on a light.
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Date: 2006-06-29 06:43 am (UTC)After a minute, hesitantly, "Do you want to talk about it?"
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Date: 2006-06-29 06:56 am (UTC)For all the things that Regan now knows, there's one thing she still doesn't--
(when you decide how much you wish to know - ask)
--and that's the truth about the ten days' time he once spent in the not-so-tender care of the Alliance.
"It doesn't matter now, Regan."
This is said almost desperately.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-29 07:03 am (UTC)"All right." Soothing.
She doesn't understand.
It's his dream, and she doesn't have to. Doesn't want to, not if it woke him like that -- she has nightmares enough of her own -- but she'd listen if he needed her to.
Again, gently, "All right."
no subject
Date: 2006-06-29 08:19 am (UTC)It's not nothing, and it's very far from okay-- in fact, this is the closest to an outright lie that he's told her in a long time, but Gabriel doesn't want to say it.
He doesn't want her to know just what their children might be going through at this moment.
He doesn't want to tell her that he himself knows because of what she did.
(I've reported it for you)
Gabriel passes a hand over his face and then pulls away.
"I'm going to take a shower, I think." From somewhere deep down, he summons a slight, wry smile.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-29 08:19 am (UTC)It fades, as she watches him walk away, moving too carefully, like an old man. As she watches the bathroom light slide on, dim at first and growing brighter, and the door close.
Regan pulls her knees up, settling back against the headboard, and rests her arms on her knees. She lets her head tip back to rest against the wall -- the leaden exhaustion is seeping back -- and closes her eyes, and tries not to think.