[Daisy] Day 17: From Bad to Worse
Jun. 26th, 2006 01:07 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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crossing_lostrpDaisy leaned on one elbow, head over the wastebasket by the side of the bed, ready for the worst. But the nausea was already fading, as was the headache. (I hate feeling drunk,) she thought. (And I hate hangovers even worse.)
It had been a long, long time since she'd last suffered through a hangover. Maybe since before she'd died. She hadn't missed them at all. She spat into the wastebasket, then wiped her mouth with a tissue from the box on the bedside table.
(Bedside table?) Daisy's attention shifted from the nausea and headache to her environment. (A hospital room) was her first impression. Then she noticed the surveillance cameras, the lack of windows, the door to her room that opened outward to judge from the absence of hinges on this side. (Okay--a prison hospital room,) she amended.
For just an instant, she worried that Rube would be furious with her for getting arrested and drawing attention to herself. Then Daisy remembered seeing Ami collapse with a dart in her arm, and being darted herself several times. This was worse. The authorities were annoying, but hemmed in by rules and regulations; people who drugged innocent women and kidnapped them were something else entirely.
As if summoned by that thought, the door opened and a doctor and nurse--(no, a man and woman dresed like a doctor and a nurse,) Daisy reminded herself--entered the room. "Good morning, Miss Adair," the doctor said. "You seem to be recovering quite well."
"Recovering from what?" Daisy asked with great sincerity. She sank back onto the bed, doing her best to look sick and weak. "Where am I? I don't...recognize this place?"
The doctor smiled indulgently. "Now now, Miss Adair," he chided her. "I'm sure you have a better grasp on the situation than you're pretending. You've recovered far more quickly than the others."
Daisy said nothing and continued to look puzzled, letting a little alarm creep into her expression--not that it was difficult.
"And that's after receiving what should have been a lethal dose of the sedative, by the way," the doctor continued. "Our capture team was a little overzealous, I'm afraid. They really didn't expect you to stay on your feet after the first dart--but four! Remarkable!"
"I don't understand what you--" Daisy began, but the doctor frowned and shook his head.
"Please don't make this more difficult than it has to be, Miss Adair. As much as you may enjoy playing dumb, we know better."
Daisy licked her lips. She was really getting worried now, and a little scared. They knew far more than they ought. Still, a bluff wouldn't hurt. "Darts?" she asked. "What are you talking abou--ow!" she yeled when the doctor abruptly stabbed her thigh with his pen.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Daisy demanded.
The doctor simply held a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. "Come," he said to the nurse. "Observe." She obediently stepped up beside him. They both leaned closer as he yanked the pen free. The two of them watched the wound close up almost instantly, then exchanged a look that Daisy didn't like. It was anticipatory, possessive.
"That's...amazing," the nurse said.
"Isn't it?" the doctor agreed. He looked at Daisy again. "I'm sorry that you forced me to resort to such crude methods, but your pretense of ignorance was getting tiresome. Now, we have a number of questions for you, and I hope you'll see your way to answering them."
"Or you'll resort to more stabbings?" Daisy said. "Break out the thumbscrews?"
"I'm sure it won't come to that," the doctor said. "For one thing, you're not our only...guest, as I'm sure you've worked out. If it becomes necessary, I find that collective punishment is an effective motivator." He smiled icily. "But as it happens, there's a more personal reason why you may find it advisable to be cooperative.
"It's clear that you feel pain even if you heal with supernatural speed. But while you can feel pain, you can't truly die, can you? While that's normally a great gift, it can be a detriment under the wrong circumstance."
"An ordinary mortal's ability to endure pain is limited, ultimately, by his physical capacity to survive it. Too much pain and a mortal body will simply...die, unable to endure the stress. You don't have that luxury."
The doctor smiled beatifically. "But I'm sure I don't need to draw you a roadmap. You're a clever woman, and you've made a lifestyle out of taking care of yourself. All we're asking is that you continue doing so. And right now, that means answering our questions. Fair enough?"
"Fair enough," Daisy said in a soft voice. Her voice didn't shake only because she exercised tight control over it. No, he didn't need to draw her a map. She was scared. More scared than she'd beeen in a very, very long time.
It had been a long, long time since she'd last suffered through a hangover. Maybe since before she'd died. She hadn't missed them at all. She spat into the wastebasket, then wiped her mouth with a tissue from the box on the bedside table.
(Bedside table?) Daisy's attention shifted from the nausea and headache to her environment. (A hospital room) was her first impression. Then she noticed the surveillance cameras, the lack of windows, the door to her room that opened outward to judge from the absence of hinges on this side. (Okay--a prison hospital room,) she amended.
For just an instant, she worried that Rube would be furious with her for getting arrested and drawing attention to herself. Then Daisy remembered seeing Ami collapse with a dart in her arm, and being darted herself several times. This was worse. The authorities were annoying, but hemmed in by rules and regulations; people who drugged innocent women and kidnapped them were something else entirely.
As if summoned by that thought, the door opened and a doctor and nurse--(no, a man and woman dresed like a doctor and a nurse,) Daisy reminded herself--entered the room. "Good morning, Miss Adair," the doctor said. "You seem to be recovering quite well."
"Recovering from what?" Daisy asked with great sincerity. She sank back onto the bed, doing her best to look sick and weak. "Where am I? I don't...recognize this place?"
The doctor smiled indulgently. "Now now, Miss Adair," he chided her. "I'm sure you have a better grasp on the situation than you're pretending. You've recovered far more quickly than the others."
Daisy said nothing and continued to look puzzled, letting a little alarm creep into her expression--not that it was difficult.
"And that's after receiving what should have been a lethal dose of the sedative, by the way," the doctor continued. "Our capture team was a little overzealous, I'm afraid. They really didn't expect you to stay on your feet after the first dart--but four! Remarkable!"
"I don't understand what you--" Daisy began, but the doctor frowned and shook his head.
"Please don't make this more difficult than it has to be, Miss Adair. As much as you may enjoy playing dumb, we know better."
Daisy licked her lips. She was really getting worried now, and a little scared. They knew far more than they ought. Still, a bluff wouldn't hurt. "Darts?" she asked. "What are you talking abou--ow!" she yeled when the doctor abruptly stabbed her thigh with his pen.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Daisy demanded.
The doctor simply held a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. "Come," he said to the nurse. "Observe." She obediently stepped up beside him. They both leaned closer as he yanked the pen free. The two of them watched the wound close up almost instantly, then exchanged a look that Daisy didn't like. It was anticipatory, possessive.
"That's...amazing," the nurse said.
"Isn't it?" the doctor agreed. He looked at Daisy again. "I'm sorry that you forced me to resort to such crude methods, but your pretense of ignorance was getting tiresome. Now, we have a number of questions for you, and I hope you'll see your way to answering them."
"Or you'll resort to more stabbings?" Daisy said. "Break out the thumbscrews?"
"I'm sure it won't come to that," the doctor said. "For one thing, you're not our only...guest, as I'm sure you've worked out. If it becomes necessary, I find that collective punishment is an effective motivator." He smiled icily. "But as it happens, there's a more personal reason why you may find it advisable to be cooperative.
"It's clear that you feel pain even if you heal with supernatural speed. But while you can feel pain, you can't truly die, can you? While that's normally a great gift, it can be a detriment under the wrong circumstance."
"An ordinary mortal's ability to endure pain is limited, ultimately, by his physical capacity to survive it. Too much pain and a mortal body will simply...die, unable to endure the stress. You don't have that luxury."
The doctor smiled beatifically. "But I'm sure I don't need to draw you a roadmap. You're a clever woman, and you've made a lifestyle out of taking care of yourself. All we're asking is that you continue doing so. And right now, that means answering our questions. Fair enough?"
"Fair enough," Daisy said in a soft voice. Her voice didn't shake only because she exercised tight control over it. No, he didn't need to draw her a map. She was scared. More scared than she'd beeen in a very, very long time.
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[Daisy] Questions, questions, questions
Date: 2006-06-29 07:16 am (UTC)The doctor alternated between questions about her resistance to drugs and her healing ability and questions about her mental state and personality. After the umpteenth time she answered "I don't know," he looked up from his list of questions and frowned at her.
Daisy's boredom evaporated. "What?"
"I find it hard to believe you don't know the answers to these simple questions, Miss Adair. It causes me to doubt your commitment to cooperating with us."
"Why would I know the answers to these questions?" Daisy asked. "You're asking me about the limits of my ability to heal. As you pointed out yourself, I still feel pain."
Doctor Mengele frowned, unconvinced but still listening.
"I don't like pain," Daisy said. "I try to avoid it. Which means that I don't do things that are likely to require me to need to heal. So why would I have learned the kind of things you're asking about?" she concluded reasonably.
Dr. Mengele glanced at Nurse Ratched. "She makes a good point," he said. "Make a note that we'll need to employ the secondary protocol when we go to phase two." Daisy felt a twist of fear but kept it off of her face. She didn't like the sound of that at all.
"Yes, doctor," Nurse Ratched said and scrawled a note on her clipboard.
Doctor Mengele flipped through several pages of questions. "Alright," he announced. "I'll pass over some of these questions. There are still plenty of other questions for us to go over.
"So, Miss Adair, if you please--which of the following words would you say most accurately describes you...."
Daisy answered the question. And the next one. And the next. She yawned occasionally as the questioning progressed. Of all the emotions she'd expected to endure from the moment she'd seen Ami collapse in the garden and realized they were under attack, boredom was the last.
[Daisy] Aftermath
Date: 2006-07-02 07:28 am (UTC)