Disclaimer: No I still don't own Dark Angel!

Notes: I've gone and decided to make my odd little drabble a full-fledged story now. Eeee! How exciting!

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...The Unspoken...

...Plastic Female Plaything...

...plasticteenprototype@earthlink.net...

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She'd first heard the songs about a week after they brought her to the cell.

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The guard who stood by her cell during the long night shift was a pleasant, soft-faced young man who told her stories of his young, even sweeter faced wife who had just had given birth to a daughter. Mind you, it occurred to her later that he'd never really been speaking to her, but this was the before the time that she could tell the difference between mouth-noise and mind-noise. But more important than his unintentional stories were his songs. To keep himself awake during the long, long night shift he would sing songs. She was fascinated with these songs. So entirely unlike speaking. It was the entire base of their appeal. But after a month of his presence, guards were deemed no longer necessary.

After he left, all she had were the songs. So she sang them to keep the bitter silence away. She didn't understand the meanings or purpose of them all the time, but that didn't matter. She sang them loudly as she could, she whispered them so softly she could barely hear them even with her enhanced hearing, and she sang them until her throat was so raw and dry that she coughed blood. When she sang, she remembered herself. When she wasn't singing, she only felt as though she was only a motionless extension of the building that kept her here. It was until they came close enough to hear her screaming one of her beloved songs at the very top of her voice that things got worse. Being that she was too dangerous to be brought to the doctors, they brought a doctor to her who spoke with her through the metal grate in the door.

To put it lightly, that didn't go well.

It did however mark a change in the way of her thinking. The others only acknowledged noise when they moved their mouths. It was very difficult to understand this man though, when his mouth-noise often differed so greatly from his mind-noise.

Her frustration grew slowly and steadily for this man who made mouth-noise to convince her that he wished to help her, while his mind-noise told her that he was going to condemn her. She would not make mouth-noise with such a man, a man who would jump so quickly to his verdict. Why did this fickle man not understand that his judgment would lead her somewhere worse than three meals a day and a soft sleeping mat? She turned away from his pasty face, blurred by the grate, and towards the opposite wall.

And she began to sing.

Softly at first, so softly that this man's normal hearing could not detect her melody. But as all her songs did, it grew within her, grew in strength as it spiraled past her lips to bounce off the four gray painted walls, magnifying her harmony until her sounds drowned out mind and mouth noise alike.

The ashen faced man turned away from her grate then to speak with another man, a different man who's mind-noise echoed darkly in her. She thought about dimming the volume of her song to listen to what the outcome of her failed psychoanalysis would be, but she only increased in volume, choosing happiness while it was still available.

When she heard the door of her dungeon opened for the first time in a month, she wasn't surprised. She didn't even turn around and the clear notes of her song did not falter in their beautiful intensity. Her mouth tripped and fumbled for the first time when she felt the dark minded man's hands on her shoulders, pulling her roughly to her feet, spinning her around to face him. His mouth said nothing, but his eyes and mind spoke of the same punishment.

"This is going to hurt, isn't it?"

It was the most she had said since she came to the cell. To the doctor she gave only yes and no words, but to this man she gave seven words. She didn't remember speaking much even in the before time of no cell, but larger rooms and others who were close to her always. This new man spoke again, tossing around words as though they meant nothing to him.

"It doesn't have to. Just stop singing."

She stared up into the wide face of this cruel stranger, uncomprehending. Stop singing? Stop the one thing made her feel different from the walls or the floor or the mat she slept on? She would withstand this promised punishement to feel different then a silent object whose only purpose was to waste away within the confines of her prison.

The dark minded man seemed reassured by her lack of mouth words. Or maybe it was not the absence of her mouth-noise, but the absence of her songs that the man took as her obedience. In any case, he turned to leave the cell.

No. No. No.

The same rebellious spirit that overwhelmed her a month ago welled up within her until she was so full of it, so full that it swam behind her eyes, almost blinding her in it's hateful energy. So immeasurable was it that she had no more mind words to remind her that the last time she had defied them. No reminders left to warn her of the price she paid for her defiance: Her comparative freedom.

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"She attacked one of the doctors at first, sir. She called to the others of her unit to help her but they were already responding to orders being issued by one of the guards. It took three units of to subdue and tranquilize her. She killed four of her own unit, the three doctors that were performing routine test number 4-6-5-4 on her, and all seven of the guards under my command. She is currently unconscious and awaiting transportation. Permission to transport her to psy-ops, sir?"

"Permission denied."

"Sir?"

"She's to dangerous to be rehabilitated. We can't take the risk that something like this could happen again... Lock her up."

"Yes sir."

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Just as she wouldn't let the doctor touch her then, performing tests that even the doctors thought were torture, she wouldn't let this foolish man take away the last thing that still felt human to her.

So she sang.

She had given up trying to defend herself after she had turned on those who used to be close to her everyday. They all spoke with kind mouth and mind- noise to her and she was happy amongst them. She thought they would follow her when she attacked the doctor. But they didn't have kind words for her then. Only confused eyes and empty minds. When she killed the four that had responded to the order to terminate her, they didn't speak with mouth words, but their minds screamed at her so loudly that she paused just long enough for a nameless guard to jab the needle into her arm.

She didn't understand what it was about this song that made the man beat her with such intensity, but this dark minded man became enraged at the first words out of her mouth. His fists and feet fell in heavy bursts across her face and body. When he stopped and she saw the world before her blackening, she smiled up at him from the floor, her mouth filling with blood as she whispered the last words of the song.

"Birds fly over the rainbow,

Why then oh why can't I?"

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When she awoke, she was in a new cell. A cell where it was darkness all the time.

She never sang again.

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To be continued...

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Review please! It's my driving force. I went and decided to make this a full story because of two little reviews! And also stay tuned for chapter two!