Here's an AU/Future (?) oneshot of Sydney being taken to re-education. I know it's been done a lot, which is why I focused it more on Sydney rather than Sydrian being reunited post re-education. Let me know what you think. I should also mention that this idea stemmed from stupid tags on tumblr, the Host trailers, Radioactive by Imagine Dragons and general shenanigans between myself and the lovely Garet, who roleplays the Adrian to my Sydney for this.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bloodlines, Vampire Academy or anything recognizable.
I'm waking up to ash and dust
I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust
I'm breathing in the chemicals
I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus
This is it, the apocalypse
Whoa
I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones
Enough to make my systems blow
Drip. Drip. Drip.
A drop. A drop is column bounded, completely or almost completely by free surfaces. A drop may form when liquid accumulates at the lower end of a tube or other surface boun-
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Drops were formed by blood. Drops were formed by glucose. Drops were formed by rain.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Rain. She danced with him in the rain. It never rained in Palm Springs but it did that day and they danced in the rain.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Rain was water. Jill controlled water. Water was controlled by magic. Magic was bad.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
But his dreams were magic. How could they be bad? They weren't bad. They were -
"Sydney."
She looked up sharply, her eyes automatically trying to squint against the bright light being shone into them. Cold, methodical fingers pried her eyelids apart to get a better look into her pupils. Left eye, then right eye. Click, then darkness. But it wasn't really dark outside. The boarded up windows had a strip of glass on top, to allow ventilation and thin rays of sunshine broke through the panels to highlight the white, tiled floor. The room was as ordinary as they came - four white washed walls, a nondescript door in the north corner. There was another one on the side which led to a bathroom which had nothing except a shower head, a drain, a toilet and a basin. There were no mirrors, but she was glad about that. If she saw herself, she knew she'd scream. Inside the room was one bed, rubbery mattress on, like a hospital bed - it made the blood easy to wash off. White sheets, crumpled with sweat and drops of red, upon which was one flimsy pillow. On the pillow lay her head. Beside the bed was an IV stand which was currently connected to her forearm, pumping chemicals, as a nurse - or an Alchemist who was a makeshift nurse - injected more into the bag hanging.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
"Where did you go just now?"
"Huh?" she asked, frowning. Her throat hurt because she hadn't spoken straight words in days. Screams. Only screams.
"Where's your mind, Sydney? Where are you going?"
"Where are you going?"
An arm wrapped around her torso and dragged her back into the satin sheets. She smiled, letting him pull her back against his bare chest, warmth spreading from skin to skin. "Stay with me," he whispered against her neck.
"I'm not sleeping naked," she chuckled, tilting her head as the ticklish sensation spread from her neck to her back. "Adrian," she said, wiggling a bit to get out of his grip.
"You're not naked," he said, a finger snapping at the bra strap which was held firmly in place. She sighed, turning over in his arms to place a soft kiss on his lips. His hands came up to cup her face as he responded in kind.
"I don't sleep in my underwear, either," she stated, hopping off the bed and going to his wardrobe. The doors opened with ease, as she ruffled through his less expensive shirts. Didn't he have anything to sleep in?
"Look through the laundry basket. Don't you want something that smells like me?" he asked. She turned to find a cheeky grin on his face, his head propped up on an elbow so that he could observe her moving around. Her nose wrinkled.
"Ew. Unhygienic," she stated. Finding his AYE shirt, she grinned and pulled it on. The sleeves reached her elbow, the hem brushing mid thigh. His amused grin faltered a bit as his eyes roamed her body.
"Get into bed, now," he murmured, holding out a hand. She shook her head, moving back to the cupboard the grab sweatpants. They hung too loose, but she folded them a couple of times so that they stayed put. She then proceeded to slip on her shoes.
"Don't you think that's a bit much?" he asked, an eyebrow raising. "Wait. Where are you going?" he asked, when she picked up her car keys from the nightstand.
"I have to get my purse and jacket. It's the only stuff which isn't wet, and I'm not leaving it in the car."
"It wasn't my idea to go play in the rain."
"Yes it was. Don't worry, I'll be back in ten minutes."
"Get it in the morning," he groaned, grabbing her arm and pulling her down. She let him, a hand on his pillow stopping her from falling completely. She placed another kiss on his lips, smiling.
"I can't. It's my purse. I'll be back," she said, standing up and walking out the door.
"You better get back, Sage. I'll kill you if I wake up alone," he called out through the bedroom. She let out an amused laugh, closing the apartment door behind her.
Was he still looking for her? To kill her? Of course not. He was Adrian. Why would he want to kill her? He's a monster. Why wouldn't he?
"Sydney."
She looked at the Alchemist who was staring at her with a stoic expression. "I'm here."
"Are you?" he asked, clicking a pen as he poised it over the clipboard in his hand. The two Alchemists behind him exchanged a quick look - an eye roll. Of course. Of course, she knew what they'd be thinking. Why was he bothering with her? Let him just ask the questions and then be done.
"I am," not, she said. I am not here. I am not there. I cannot be because I don't know who I am.
"Okay. Can you tell me your name?"
"Sydney Katherine Sage. Alias, Sydney Melrose." 'Sage.'
"Age and date of birth?"
"Eighteen years old. Will turn nineteen on February 26th." 'I'm going to bake you a cake for your birthday. A big, chocolatey, gooey lava cake and you're going to eat it. Whether you want to or not.'
"Family?"
"Father, Jared Sage. Mother, Melinda Sage. Two sisters, Carly and Zoe Sage." Zoe. Zoe. Oh how could you, Zoe?
"Hometown?"
"Emery, Utah."
"What was your last assignment?"
"Protection of the Moroi Princess, Jillian Mastrano Dragomir." Jill. Oh, Jill.
"Who were the others involved in this plan, present in the field?"
"Dhampirs, Edison Castile, Angeline Dawes and Neil Raymond. Moroi, Clarence Donahue's home was a frequent visiting point. Alchemist, Zoe Sage, was also present, as was Keith Darnell at one point"
"And?"
"Adrian Ivashkov." Oh god.
"That's right. Thank you, Sydney."
"Is that all?" she whispered.
"That's all." He nodded once at her, patting her shoulder, before he walked out of the room. The two Alchemists, who'd rolled their eyes, followed without another glance in her direction.
"Why do they do that?" she asked, her voice grating against her dry throat. Water. She wanted to - no. She didn't want water. The idea of water sliding down her throat made her want to curl up.
"Do what?" asked the Alchemist who was checking her IV and helping her settle back down. She was also not very subtle about rechecking the restraints which held Sydney to the bed.
"Ask those questions. Everyday," she replied.
"It's just a standard procedure. To make sure that you've got your story straight. We're the ones who'll be testifying that you're fit to leave the facility. So, it helps if you practice your answers -"
Sydney drowned the rest of the sentence out. Lies. All lies. They were checking to reassure themselves - to reassure that they hadn't done too much brain damage. But they do care about you, Sydney. They're helping you.
Lies.
"I wanna use the bathroom."
"Seriously?" asked the Alchemist, as if she'd just been ready to leave. When no response came in return, she made an irritated noise under her breath, undoing Sydney's restraints. Moments like these, Sydney wondered as to why on earth she didn't just try and run. The Alchemist was a slight thing; she could pin her down and knock her out in ten seconds flat.
Because they're trained. Trained to handle people who want to run. And because there were about twenty outside, ready to stop her.
And they're helping you, Sydney. This is good. Who will you run to if you run? Vampires?
She shuddered, unsure if it was because of the idea of running to monsters or because a voice so unfamiliar, yet completely hers, was telling her these things in her head.
She slowly rose from the bed, her knees wobbling as her frame tried to support itself. At least, I lost all those extra pounds,she joked inside her head, the humor completely falling flat. She reached the bathroom door and closed it behind her. No lock, obviously. Keeping her eyes completely averted from the shower, she washed her hands and her neck. There was dried blood caked under her fingernails, and on the ends of her hair. Splashing water from the sink onto her skin, she scratched her neck to remove the blood.
An odd pain shot from her jaw to her shoulder. A small furrow appeared between her brows, as her fingers dug and kept cleaning. More water, more digging, more blood, more pain.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
It dripped onto the edge of the clean ceramic, looking like rose petals strewn on snow. Dark, tender, deadly and beautiful. Then it swirled into the water, and down a drain in a confusing whirlpool. More cleaning, more blood.
There was an odd muffled sound from behind her, but she ignored. She had to keep cleaning, she couldn't stop, she mustn't stop. The door opened, shaking on it's hinges. Fingers clawed on her forearm, pulling her hand away from her neck.
"What are you doing? You're making it worse!"
Huh?
"Come here. You've dug out whatever new skin was forming. Sit," the Alchemist chastised, pushing her roughly on the bed as she worked to take out gauze and tape. Oh.
A bandage was applied to her neck and she was pushed down once more, restraints wrapping around her wrists.
"Try and sleep, until dinner time. You'll need it."
The door was shut. Darkness.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Sydney's eyes traveled to the translucent bag of fluids flowing into her bloodstream, each drop tantalizingly slow, almost tangible. Her eyes felt heavier with every passing second. Maybe she was falling asleep. Maybe she was finally dying. Either one would be blessed relief. Her eyes slid shut, a backdrop of black laid out in front of her.
Drip. Drip. Drip. It echoed in the silence, reminding her of water, more than any chemical.
"What can you possibly do to scare me?" she asked, her voice as cold as steel, her entire body writhing as they pinned her down to the bed. Gone was level headed Sydney, who would nod and try and co-operate until she could find a solution to the problem. Her fingers were curled, attempting to scratch the bands from around her wrists. Her wet hair - it had still been raining when she'd gone to her car; the rain they'd danced in, the rain they'd grabbed her from, the rain which now soaked her hair, her body, the kisses he'd left on her back, the AYE shirt which clung to her skin - was splayed out on the pillow, making her head feel heavy. The tall Moroi in the corner of the room watched her with eyes wide - not out of shock, just horror. As if she couldn't believe that they'd do something like this to a human, as if she wasn't in on the plans they had for her. Pretending to be human while she was really a monster.
That stopped her short.
Was she already seeing these vampires as monsters now?
When the restraints were tight enough, the girl walked forward, kneeling over Sydney's figure. She touched the water droplets on Sydney's face. Sydney moved her head away from her, frowning. "What are you doing?"
"Did you know that if a Moroi practices their elemental magic over and over and over again, they can practically draw their energy from even the tiniest of traces of the element they control?" the girl said, stroking the wet strands off her face. Sydney said nothing, her mind not even in the room. It was stuck on the owner of the brightest pair of green eyes, the one she'd left behind, the one who'd be waking up alone after all.
"And?"
"And that wherever we find it, we can draw it all to ourselves." As she said this, Sydney's body started to get dry with every passing second. It started with her clothes, then her hair, then her skin which felt like it did on cold winter nights. Then the tears forming in her eyes, the corners of her mouth. Her throat, her tongue. It grated like sandpaper when she tried to swallow, and eventually, she couldn't even swallow. Hot, dry hair funneled down her throat with every agonizing breath, her eyes wide in horror as she realized that every single drop of water from her body was being pulled away from her. Survival overrode stubbornness and she tried to shout. But it tore at her. It felt like a cheese grater was being rubbed inside her throat, and not even something as relieving as a sob could make it's way without bringing her pain.
"And we can give it back, threefold," the girl said. Suddenly, like a damn being burst open, Sydney gasped. Her lungs burnt, as if water was entering them at the speed of a mile a minute. Her back arched off the bed, as water spluttered from her mouth, choking her. Coughs wracked her entire body as she gasped for air, her lungs burning. She was going to die. She was going to die. One minute she hadn't been here and she was going to die.
Adrian. She wanted to scream for him, but only water bubbled inside her throat. Adrian, I love you. Adrian, I'm sorry.
"Enough."
And suddenly, she could breathe again. Her sides hurt as she took mouthfuls of pure, blissful oxygen. "More, tomorrow. For now, sleep."
Sleep? That didn't come anymore. They'd taken away her - his - AYE shirt and the idea of losing it caused her a deep sense of grief and longing and fear because she shouldn't feel grief and longing towards somebody who drank blood and wielded magic which could make you die.
Drip, drip went the chemical into her arm, numbing her insides. Drip, drip it swirled inside her heart.
"What's that?" she asked, her throat parched as they hooked up the IV. She didn't know how many days it had been since she'd been here, but she'd had ten meals and five sessions of being dehydrated and then drowned, so she was guessing it had been a week. The blood ran in rivulets down her throat, pooling in the dip between her collar bones and sternum. But she didn't care because god, it felt so good. Who knew that the reason Strigoi couldn't drink her blood was because her magic was part of nature? Because the life force of it cancelled out their undead nature - like a stake? Because, as it turned out, magic didn't cancel out magic so her blood was harmless to Moroi. She ought to have let Sonya do the tests - this was far too much fun for it to be scary. Maybe they were taking pity on her. Her brain whirred with the endorphins coursing through her, the bite on her neck no longer throbbing. It sent tingles of pleasure down her spine.
"Chemicals."
"What chemicals?" she breathed, her eyes straying to the Moroi who stood next to her, discreetly wiping the blood from his lips.
"They suppress your pituitary gland."
She nodded, not even trying to follow. Who cares what they were trying to suppress. As long as she - wait, what? Tenth grade Biology buzzed through her brain as she attempted to remember what that gland did. Come on Sydney, remember. Remember. Her eyes closed, pulling up a chart which her father had taught her. What had it said? What had it - thyroid control, growth, blood pressure. They were, what, sedating her? More functions buzzed through her mind. Sex organ functions, water regulation, temperature regulation, pain r - she gasped. Pain relief. Her eyes went wide, confused.
"What? But wait, that's the organ which -"
"Releases endorphins. You've seen the good parts of being bitten by a vampire, Sydney. I'm guessing these are the parts which drew you into befriending them in the first place."
"N-no, they never, he would never -"
"Regardless," he continued, as if she hadn't said anything. "It's our job to teach you what's right and what is wrong. This is wrong. They are wrong."
"NO! What you're doing to me is wrong. That's what -"
"I'll be back in ten minutes to see how you're doing."
"NO! You can't just - NO! WAIT! COME BACK!"
Her fingers struggled to rip the IV out, but the cuffs around her wrists dug into her skin. Pain seared across her arms. A sob built into her throat at the sensation. Cuffs. Cuffs were causing this kind of pain. Then what would -
That thought never finished. It was too clouded by the shriek which escaped her as fangs entered into her neck again.
Her eyes flew open, mind too agitated to continue trying to sleep. The dust motes in the air swirled through the thin beam of light and she found herself finding patterns in them. Patterns, patterns,patterns in the light. Patterns to follow. Patterns to draw. He liked to draw. He liked to paint. How could something so inhuman like something so simple as painting?
But was he inhuman? Was she inhuman?
Blood dripped through the flimsy bandage, wetting her neck. Wet like water, wet like rain, wet like blood through her veins. A rhyme. No reason. How odd.
They hadn't healed her today. Why? They got in a Spirit user to heal her every time so that there was a blank canvas to present to the next candidate. Why no Spirit user today? Spirit User. He was a Spirit User. Spirit drove him mad, too. It destroyed him, why wouldn't it destroy her? Monsters, they were all monsters. Their magic was death, their bites were poison.
Adrian.
Painter.
Royal.
Moroi.
Spirit User.
Lover?
No.
Monster.
A shudder ripped through her body. Why? Did her body reject the idea of loving him? Did it reject the idea of him being a monster? She didn't know? She knew nothing. What was her name, again?
Sydney Sage.
Sage.
Sage.
The door opened and closed again. She looked up, as the Spirit User came to sit beside her on the bed. He was nice. He sometimes talked to her when everybody left, and held her hand when she cried. He said he knew him -him.Or, knew of him at least. He said they went to school together, but he wouldn't remember. He was in a different crowd. Party crowd. Crowd with beautiful girls. Anger flashes through her. Jealousy. Why? Jealousy reminds her of Rose. Roses are red. Blood is red. He'll take her blood now.
"Sorry, I'm late."
She shook her head. She was okay with her only friend being late. At least, he was here now.
"You didn't heal me today," she whispered. He slowly pulled away the bandage, wincing at what must be the damage left by her own nails. Two simple fang marks,warped into ripped flesh.
"Sorry."
"It's okay. You can fix it now."
"I can't."
Confusion. Why?
"Why?"
"Because the easy part's over. The tough part starts now."
Tough? Now? She laughed. How odd, she hadn't laughed in ages.
"What?"
"I can't heal you every time. It's not painful."
"Not painful?"
"It's not pain if it gets taken away."
A sob bubbled into her throat again. Tears pooled in her eyes and slid down her temples. He sighed, but didn't say anything. She cried harder, her wrists turning inside the cuffs.
"I want Adrian."
"He's not here."
"I don't care."
"He's not here, Sydney."
He stood up, shifting, as she started to writhe harder. Her hands were turning red now, from scraping and scratching and the IV was shifting around. The drips were turning spotty as she jostled the bag and he pinned her shoulders down.
"Stop."
"NO!" she cried out, sobbing louder as the pain from her wrists, shot to her shoulders, to her neck, to her head, to her heart, everywhere.
"Sydney, I'll take as little as possible, okay? I'll try not to - "
"NO!" she screamed louder.
"Stop shou -"
"NO! ADRIAN!"
"He's not he-"
"NO! PLEASE! NO!" she cried, shuddering sobs ripping from her. He tilted her head to the side and hovered.
"I'll try not to make it hurt."
"Please don't do this," she cried, tears flowing down her face as she looked at him. "Please, oh god, please. Please. You're my friend."
"I am I -"
"I thought you were my friend!"
"Sydney -"
"MONSTERS! YOU'RE ALL MONSTERS!"
"Sydney, ple -"
"NO!"
This time, he didn't wait to say anything, just ripped open her wounds again as his fangs sunk into her neck. Muscles curled, blood rushed and everything slowed down for a second. No time, no space, no air. Just her. And then, like a vortex, pain gushed through every nerve ending until she was screaming at the top of her voice, silence shattered like the window panes of her car which she scratched on as they dragged her away.
"Let me go!" she screamed into the dark night. "Let me go!"
"Please let me go," she whimpered, scrambling. He pinned his knees on either side of her hips, holding her down.
"STOP. LET ME GO."
"Please. Stop. STOP," she cried, as his fingers curl into her arms.
"ADRIAN!" she cried out into the night, desperate measures coming forth. But his house was too far away from him to hear.
"Adrian," she whispered, dark spots entering her sight, tunneling her vision. Noises drowned out, pain faded into oblivion and peace hovered, teasing over her head.
And, drip, drip, drip goes her blood.
Drip, drip, drip goes her pain.
Drip, drip, drip goes her sanity.