Author's note – written for the prompt challenge no. 29 on Raising Hell : "There is nothing as tempting as a locked door."
Summary – What would you do, what lengths would you go, to get what you wanted...
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Pandora's Box
There is nothing as tempting as a locked door.
White knows this as he stands in a corridor outside a cell.
All it would take for him to ask "Where is my son?" is disobeying a direct order to avoid the Transgenic prisoner behind the door in question.
He spins away from the cell with an irritated exhale of breath. But it isn't long before he has turned back, gaze once again focused on the undefended barrier between him and the answers he so desperately wants.
Footsteps approach, prompting possibly the stupidest decision of recent months.
He reaches forward with keys stolen from a negligent guard, lock clicking and door swinging fractionally open.
White slips inside just before the footsteps round the corner. He leans against the door in the gloom of captivity and lets his eyes adjust enough to pick out the figure tightly curled in a bed of ragged blanket scraps.
"452?" he calls, hating that his voice unintentionally comes out as a whisper.
"White?" is her surprised reply. She coughs, and emerges slowly from the tangle of cloth. "Didn't think you were allowed down here..."
He frowns. "They told you that?"
Max chuckles, coughing again at the effort. "They wanted me to know what a naughty animal I was; that I'd further tarnished your reputation and as punishment you weren't to visit or speak to me in any way." She cocks her head, watching him. He knows that the gloom is no hindrance to her Transgenic given night vision, but that does nothing to soothe the unnerving sensation that she can clearly see him while he struggles to keep her in view.
"What made them change their mind?" she asks, suddenly curious as to the nature of his arrival.
He looks awkward. "They didn't." he admits.
Max stares in shock. "You're not supposed to be here?" she verifies.
"Thought you were supposed to be smart..." he growls to cover his ill ease.
"So why come here?" she persists.
"You can't guess?" White stalls, suddenly aware of what may be waiting for him if he gets caught leaving this cell and not at all looking forward to the consequences.
Max sighs. The tired gusty breath is such a metaphor for his own state of mind that he is momentarily unsettled by the insight.
"You want to know about Ray." she says in flat tones.
"Yes..." White confirms softly.
"Last time I saw him, he was bouncing around the sofa of a safehouse. I don't know where he went next so that if I was ever put to questioning, I couldn't compromise his location."
"How much did they hurt you before they believed that?" White asks.
Max laughs - it isn't a nice sound. "They still don't believe it."
The pause stretches between them.
"Anything else?" she says sharply. "I enjoy this downtime to speculate how long I've got left before they get bored and kill me."
The sarcasm does nothing to hide the defeated attitude of her statement and White is startled. "Not like you to accept the end without a fight..." he tries to recover his usual poise with provocation.
"You can't see, but I'm hardly in a condition to do anything but resign myself to that inevitable conclusion," Max says.
White is suddenly next to her bed – she'd gasp at the speed of his movement if it wasn't a waste of precious energy. "What if I helped you get out of here?" he says.
Max cocks her head – the guy is practically bouncing, strung out with tension as he waits, hopes, for her answer.
"Why?" she asks, wary; and rightly so - this is just the kind of trick the Conclave would employ.
"Because I would do anything for my son, and despite your ignorance, you are the best chance I have of seeing him again." White blows out a breath. "As you may have guessed, the Conclave is not interested in offering me resources so that leaves you - and I'm desperate enough to take help from any quarter."
He is close enough for Max to see the truth of his words. Naked hope is written across his face, he is exposed in a way she never expected to see. For the first time since she blindly agreed with Logan, Max wonders if taking Ray was the right thing to do. Sure, it got him away from a dark life of learning to kill and following another's bidding, but separating a child from his family is something she'd spent her whole life trying to reverse. And she hasn't turned out too bad despite the skills she learned and practiced in her early days.
"How do you want to do this?" she asks - trying to resist the lure of his pretty picture, that could so easily be pulled away from her, as an extra special new line of torture.
"Is now too soon?" White cocks an eyebrow and Max wants to laugh at the almost surreal situation she finds herself in - she is bargaining with a confirmedly dangerous enemy, and possibly agreeing to an unknown price for this proposal.
"Death now or death later?" Max quips, "Show me the way outta here..."
She grits her teeth against the pain as he scoops her into his arms, blanket scraps drifting to the floor as he shifts her into a more secure embrace.
For a second, Max is in shock from human contact that doesn't end with inflicting suffering on her person, but rationality kicks in as she remembers that this is Ames White holding her and she has made a vague bargain - the cost of which is yet to be confirmed.
Self preservation makes her squirm as his grip tightens.
"Stop it..." he snaps, and Max becomes instantly still - they are moving out of the darkness of the holding area and into the open areas of the Cult compound.
Her body thrums, instincts from hours of training desperate for her to be in control, to be in charge of her own escape. But her physical state is such that she has to rely on her enemy and the whim of his intentions.
Their journey is short, but Max is barely conscious as he slides her into a car and pulls out of the parking lot.
Which is why he has to shake her awake when they stop, pointing out that they are back in Seattle, and does she need taking to the front door.
Max glares at him - as if the Transgenics would appreciate Ames White turning up on their doorstep; no matter if she was there too.
"It's just around the corner. Think you can manage that far?" he taunts.
"I've handled worse..." Max shares, fighting a memory from childhood days.
She stumbles from the car, pausing against the rear door to collect some strength.
White steps out and slips a card into her hand - she stares at the number on it. "We need to sort out the matter of your payment. If I don't hear from you within a week, I'll come find you and you can explain to the nice people you live with why I hold you in debt."
The glare is back on her face, lips curling for a snarl.
"I pay up." she growls.
"I'll wait for your call..." he smirks, amusement clear.
She pushes off the vehicle and makes slow progress down the street. White watches her departure and wonders what will happen next. He knows she will ring - the Freak has some foolish sense of loyalty and compassion. But will she feel compelled to honour his request or will she throw their previous history in his face and, having played the morality card, manage to slip away like she normally does.
He wipes a hand over his face – what was he thinking, making deals with the Queen of the Freaks? And what repercussions will he now be dodging from the Conclave...
It will be worth it, he tells himself. Unless she crosses me - then I'll hunt her down like I always do; and kill her.
Pleased to restore order to his world, White climbs in the car and starts practising his alibi.