crossing_lostrp | [Ami] Half-Light

island-muses.livejournal.com posting in

Five, maybe six days into her captivity, she'd lost count at the beginning and couldn't be certain, Ami's life fell into a routine: breakfast, shower, "interview" with Ethan, lunch and then an indeterminate stretch where she might be left to her devices, subjected to more blood tests and injections, or drilled and questioned by a clinically cold Asian woman. While Ethan psychoanalyzed her, always under the pretense of making her life "here more comfortable" – and Ami never for one moment doubted that it was pretense – the woman bombarded her with questions regarding her abilities and how far she could stretch them. Unlike Ethan, Dr. Sakai – Ami tricked the dinner nurse, Steph, into revealing the name of the woman on the fourth evening – did not hold the captivity of Ami's friends over her head as a threat, though she did reveal and hint at far deeper and greater knowledge than she should have had regarding Ami and Megabyte, the Tomorrow People in general, Scott, Walt, River and Mara than the woman should have been privy to.

Sakai's questions were concise and direct without subterfuge. When they were not, they were simply confusing and frustrating and often embarrassing.

"Did either of your parents have paranormal abilities?"

"No," Ami repeated the same answer that she'd given the day before and the day before that. "I've told you this before. No, my parents were both perfectly normal."

"Grandparents? Aunts? Uncles? Cousins?"

"No already! Am I even speaking English?"

"No brothers or sisters?"

Ami folded her arms beneath her breasts and glared at the woman from the pseudo-safety of her bed. She'd long grown tired of answering the same questions over and over again.

Dr. Sakai returned her stare for a long moment. Finally, heaving a sigh, she flipped to another page in her clipboard. "Are you fertile? Have you ever monitored or measured your fertility?"

*That* was new. Ami actually felt herself frown before she could stop it. "I don't know. No. Why would I?"

"Is your partner fertile?"

"What's that got to do with anything? You're holding me here to find out what Scott's sperm count is? Rather have that arse over tit, don't you, then?" Ami learned early on that trying not to name names or identify her fellow survivors and castaways served no practical purpose. Sakai knew the people, and pretending only made the questioning sessions drag onward.

"How often would you say that you and Mr. Hayden engaged in sexual intercourse on a daily basis?"

The question angered her, mortified her and saddened her all at once. It was none of this woman's business, this woman – this pseudo-doctor who held her captive against her will and was keeping her *away* from Scott, didn't have the right to ask such things or to expect an answer. The asking itself reminded her of the ache and emptiness she felt, of the hollow just beyond her senses where Scott should have been, but couldn't be felt.

"None of your bloody business."

"Did you have intercourse the morning before you were brought here?"

"I'm not going to answer that!"

She didn't answer, and those questions were never asked again.

Current Mood: discontent
Current Location: medical facility

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

island-muses.livejournal.com

Games of "Go Fish" and "Rummy" with "Colleen" panned out better than her sessions with Ethan. Those were rife with frequent reminders of how Daisy's death had been a useful object lesson and how eventually Rose's usefulness would run out as well and that only Ami's cooperation would keep her friend alive. Ethan never mentioned Claire, and he never told Ami *how* she was supposed to cooperate.

"What about Claire?" Ami demanded at one of their morning briefings.

"What about Claire?" Ethan's smugness made her want to slap him.

"You never mention her. It's always Rose or Daisy -- " Ami paused, swallowed the lump of sadness, anger and frustration that rose each time she thought about what a waste it was to kill Daisy that way; what a horrible sadistic loss. "I know she's here, but you never hold her over my head."

"You needn't concern yourself with Miss Littleton."

"Why not? You're not going to remind me of how pregnant she is, or how much you wankers can hurt her?"

"I said that you needn't concern yourself with Miss Littleton. Like you, she still has her usefulness to our project. It's Miss Tyler that you should be worried about."

Ethan chose his words carefully. It wasn't the first time that Ami noticed such a thing. The idea that Claire was 'still useful' stood out and Ami rolled it around in her head, trying to puzzle out why Claire could be useful when Rose wasn't. Rose traveled through time, to other worlds in the company of a powerfully telepathic alien whereas Claire was a sweet, pregnant unwed mother from --

It clicked. Claire was pregnant.

Ami shuddered. "You don't care about Claire. You care about her baby!" Ami accused. "What's going to happen to her when she delivers?"

"Well, when that happens, it will be time for you to concern yourself with Miss Littleton." Ethan took a drink from the cup of water he placed on the serving tray beside his chair. "Of course, if you truly want to try the limits of our kindness, I should remind you that as far as my colleagues are concerned, a human incubator at this point of gestation is not a requirement, merely a convenience."

"You bleeding bastard."

"That's hardly fair. You asked about Claire and I answered. If you don't wish to hear the answers, don't ask the questions." Sitting back, Ethan crossed his legs and opened his notebook. "Tell me about growing up in London, about living with these abilities of yours."

"It was fun. I got to break curfew and see the world." It was passive resistance, but it was all that she had at the moment.

"And what's it like being involved in a relationship with a half-breed human?"

Ami didn't rise to his bait. She'd learned her lesson on day four. She'd lunged at Ethan, not knowing what she intended, but needing to try something. The subsequent backhand landed her on the floor with another split lip; he'd hauled to her feet by her hair and the grip of his hand around her throat left bruises. Later, she healed it all again, noting the irony that it took a dire situation to give her practice at using her new talent.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ami remarked.

"Miss Jackson, a talented liar you are not."

"I don't want to talk to you about my relationships."

"Of course you don't." That was all Ethan said before he left, allowing the door to swing ominously closed behind him.

From:

island-muses.livejournal.com

(Now I understand why incarcerated prisoners need distractions,) was Ami's first thought upon awakening on what she thought was day six of captivity. That made it twenty-four days, or three weeks and three days, four days short of an official month since Oceanic 815 crashed onto the island. Counting was another way of keeping sane.

Jacob walked alarmingly close to her on her route to the shower that morning, and for a few suspended heartbeats Ami desperately feared that he would follow her into the shower. Fortunately - and there was a word Ami thought she would never use under these circumstances or with these people - Ethan arrived, reassigning Steph and a guard who was not Fisher to guard Ami's showertime.

The annoyance she felt from Jacob and Fisher at being summarily dismissed and the fortuitous arrival of Ethan did not sit well with her. Still, she ventured into the shower, glad that Steph was willing to remain outside, and set about following her usual routine.

That was when Ami got her second surprise - the first being the Changing of the Guard - of the morning. She summoned her soap to her hand telekinetically. Ami was in mid-wash when she realized exactly what she had done and the resounding joyous laughter escaped before she could stop it. The sound echoed off of the bathroom walls, bringing Steph and the guard running to see if something had happened. Ami played it off, claiming that she was simply overtired and letting her imagination run off with her.

Left alone to her own devices again, Ami tested the limits of her returned skill; or rather the ability she now had access to again. Soap, shampoo, towel, brush, all of it floated to her hand or away from her as she willed it. The handles on the faucet turned on and off and the toilet flushed. It was only the knowledge that she was still a prisoner, and that her awareness of Scott and Megabyte was so faint, far, weak and faded that stopped her from floating on air and grinning with delight.

She was telekinetic and empathic again, but she was still a cripple.

(But it's coming back. It's all coming back. I just need to hang on a little longer. Eventually . . . ) Eventually, she might acclimate fully to their drugs, of which she no longer received intravenously but via an injection in the morning, or perhaps evening, when she received her other injections. Then what? She could teleport away, but would she be able to get back?

No, she'd have to hide her recovery from them, making her regret her display in the lavatory. Just because she hadn't seen any cameras in there, didn't mean that there weren't cameras in there. She'd ahve to wait until she was full strength, because she'd have to escape with Rose and Claire at the same time. Then, even if they weren't on the island, they would be reunited with their friends and loved ones (Scott) because they could tell the rescuerers about the island.

(Patience,) Ami whispered to herself.

Now, it was only a matter of patience, waiting, and biding her time.

From:

island-muses.livejournal.com

The shampoo bottles were floating. On the little black and white monitor of the camera hidden behind the mirror in the bathroom, the shampoo and conditioner bottles were floating.

The guard was doing a crossword puzzle.

She stepped in front of that monitor, sitting on the console to block his view. "What are you doing?"

The guard, Alex thought his name was Michael, but she didn't know for certain.

"Crossword puzzle," he answered dismissively.

"I like puzzles." She leaned over, reading the puzzle upside down until he jerked it away.

He was annoyed. Alex felt it. Alex saw it in the way he raised his head to glare at her. "Don't you have something else to do, kid? I don't know why they expect me to babysit you, anyway."

"Maybe I'm babysitting you."

"Where's Dr. Gevalia*? Shouldn't you be with her?"

"You don't like me?"

"I don't want you bothering me. I've got work to do." A final glare and he went back to his puzzle.

Alex glanced back at the monitor. No more floating bottles. She slid off the desktop and gathered up her oversized art book, this one filled with pictures of exotic and tropical birds. "Seven down is cypher."

She left with her book under her arm.

[OOC: *Dr. Gevalia = Maureen. She finally has a name.]

From:

island-muses.livejournal.com

"Colleen" arrived after lunch with a wooden case and a large coffee table book under her arm. Ami still didn't know what to make of the girl. Part of her thought that "Colleen" was a prisoner here in this "hospital" as much as she was, but given more leniency due to her flighty ways; another school of thought returned to make her cautious and regard "Colleen" as a plant, a diversion and an effort to win Ami's trust.

Today's diversion involved several games of backgammon. "Colleen" won three out of five, and promised Ami a rematch the next day. In between games four and five, they rested their minds and "Colleen" proudly and excitedly whipped open the coffee table book. It turned out to be a book of photography, filled with beautiful pictures of colorful tropical and exotic birds.

"Do you like birds?" The girl asked as she spread the book open between the two of them. "What I like most about birds is not their feathers or their beautiful colors, but how free they are. They can circle the world if they wished. Sometimes I'd like to be a bird."

"Are you not free, Colleen?"

"None of us are ever really free, even when we think we're soaring," "Colleen" answered simply. She traced a picture of a brightly colored parrot, "The only way to keep a bird from flying is to clip its wings. They'll keep trying to fly but they never get into the air.

"But we're not like that," the girl's eyes became far away, and though she stared at the book, Ami got the feeling that she wasn't seeing it at all. "Tell us we can't fly, and we'll believe it. We just stop trying, too."

"Colleen" was quiet for a moment before lifting her head. The sadness vanished in an instant and she smiled brightly, "Ready for the tie-breaker?"

From:

island-muses.livejournal.com

The thing about a routine was that it became … routine. After dinner on day six, Ami was again left to her own devices with the exception of the bird book left by "Colleen." Eventually however, looking at pictures of birds, no matter how beautiful the birds or perfect the pictures, also became boring and Ami put the book aside. With nothing else to do, she padded to the light switch, switched off the light – which effectively only dimmed it enough for sleep – and returned to her bed.

Ami didn't remember falling asleep. She knew that she had fallen asleep when she was jarred awake by a voice in her head. After days of silence, and the reprieve of empathy, the sudden ability to hear thoughts shook her awake. Clawing her way up from the shadows of sleep, Ami cast out and tried to focus on the voice and the rapidly fading words. The voice she knew belonged to "Colleen" . . . (No, not Colleen. Alex. Her name is Alex.) . . . and the words were not just random, overheard thoughts.

They were directed at Ami. They were meant for Ami.

And somehow Co – Alex knew that Ami would hear them.

Your wings aren't clipped.

/Alex? Can you hear me? What do you mean?/ Ami sat up in bed, staring into the dimness of her room but not seeing it. Instead she was stretching herself, trying to pinpoint Alex's mind from the others that dominated the place.

Her only answer was silence.

It was too much to hope for, and Ami knew it. Just because the girl knew that Ami was telepathic, it didn't mean that Alex was telepathic.

She flopped back against the pillow, her attention shifting to the ceiling. Four simple little words, but what did they mean?

(Your wings aren't clipped. But I'm not free, I'm a prisoner here, too. I can't go anywhere, I can't -)

Ami sat back up suddenly as it clicked into place. Her attention darted back and forth between the two survelliance cameras. Placed at opposite corners and so that no part of the room was left uncanvassed, there was no way Ami could test her sudden insight and theory without being caught on camera.

Unless . . .

Projecting a calm and tiredness that she no longer felt, Ami lie back down and rolled over onto her side. Feigning trying to go back to sleep worked well for this because she needed her eyes closed to focus on the camera nearest the bed. She wasn't skilled telekinetically, at least not at the level of what she would be attempting, and it took a good while for Ami to get a sense of and a feel for the camera. Without touching it she couldn't *see* inside of it, but she could *feel* the wires, cables and cords that fed the video back into the wall.

Slowly tugging on the wiring until it came free took time and by the time she was done, a thin sheen of perspiration covered her and her head was beginning to throb. As much as she wanted to rest, there was no time. It would likely only be a matter of moments before someone realized the camera had no video and if she was absent from view, they'd come to check her room. Ami spared a few minutes to center herself, then slipped out of bed. She pretended to head for the light switch, but instead ducked into the area only canvassed by the now out of commission camera.

Ami desperately hoped that if Col – Alex knew enough to give her the hint, that she knew enough to give Ami just a few minutes to test her theory.

Closing her eyes, Ami focused.

And teleported away from the room.

From:

island-muses.livejournal.com

Rich, earthy, leafy smells, gass tickling beneath her bare feet, the chirping of birds and sunlight warming her arms and body were the sensations that greeted Ami as she completed her teleportating jaunt. These were not what she was expecting or anticipating and she knew immediately that she’d not managed to teleport back to the caves. Ami blinked rapidly in the bright sunlight until her eyes adjusted.

(Wait . . . sunlight? But it’s bedtime . . .) The thought trailed off as Ami slowly and deliberately placed one foot in front of the other, cautiously pushing forward through the thigh high, wild, tropical grass.

(Tropical grass? Tropical grass . . . tropical grass!) Ethan *had lied to her: they were still on the island after all. Secreted someplace unexplored and unknown, likely to be as far from the beach camp and caves as possible, but still on the island. If they were still on the island, that meant better hope for being found and rescued. It meant that Ethan’s colleagues were not as all powerful as he implied. Maybe they were trapped here as well, victims of their own technology and nefarious planning. Maybe they caused all this and now had to pay the price in a prison of their own making.

(Speculation later, reconnaissance now,) Ami chided herself, (You can’t be gone long.) She based her experimental teleportation on the untested theory that Alex was somehow running interference. Ami had to get away and bring back help quickly, or barring that, she had to gather as much intel as possible and return to the medical facility where she could plan for a full prison break later.

(Easy enough, as long as they don’t realize I can teleport again.)

Concentrating again, Ami focused again on the caves. Her focus was tight and narrow this time, excluding all the other distractions. A few futile attempts to teleport to the caves, or even the beach camp, only managed to drain her energy while revealing that Ami could no more teleport away from this place than she could teleport off of the island. The realization was as informative as it was frustrating.

It had to mean something, but Ami didn’t know what.

Giving up on teleporting, Ami instead dropped her shields and opened her mind completely. The background hum/purr/hiss/throb of the island was more unsettling now than it had been in those first days following the crash. Here it was somehow clearer and less muted; alien, foreign, indescribable, sleeping but awake, unconscious but sentient, alive but inanimate, Ami required some effort on her part to distract herself from it.

When she did, Ami felt other things, such as the thoughts and feelings of those in the medical facility that wasn’t far off and ran beneath her feet as well. But that wasn’t what she wanted to feel or sense. Ami stretched her mind and her senses, reaching beyond, her mental awareness like smoke fingers reaching for the even less intangible cloud that she knew was Scott. Fumbling and grasping, inept and clumsy, it seemed to dart away each time she came close to it. She pushed harder, stretched further, and just as she began to feel the first pinpricks of pain, she touched it.

From:

island-muses.livejournal.com

Smoke fingers solidified and locked onto that cloud and ever so briefly it was solid as well. For a few fleeting moments that lasted no more than suspended seconds, Ami sensed him, touched him, felt him as clearly as though he stood beside her.

Worry, fear, emptiness, loneliness, desperation – all of it poured into her as the clearing feel way and instead frightfully slow heavy footfalls pressed into the overgrowth. Overhead the morning sun rose higher, shining down through patches in the canopy. A sudden sharpening of awareness and surprise, disbelief, hope, relief and love coursed over their link.

Ami’s hope and love surged as well. She pushed as much of it to Scott as she could before the connection broke dramatically, with sharp needles stabbing behind her eyes, a throbbing in her head and a swirling dizziness that forced her to the ground. The open clearing slanted and spun and her stomach heaved. Only once she wiped her mouth and looked up from her prone position was she able to marvel that she’d somehow managed to not vomit on her clothes. Although it took a few minutes for her to ground herself and right herself, even the headache, nauseau and nosebleed couldn’t deflate her spirits.

(Scott’s coming. They’re all coming. It might take tearing apart the island, but they are coming.) That was the one thing she’d taken away from the brief contact with her lover – that the calvary was indeed coming to save them.

Coming to take them home.

Ami forced herself to her feet, and the spinning of the world around her told her that she’d overdone it, she’d pushed herself too hard. She staggered, took a step forward, then fell to her knees as the world dropped rapidly away and darkness rushed up to swallow her.

[OOC: I hope it was worth the wait. Further ebil this evening or tomorrow.]