Title: The Finite Pulse Of Time
Author: SomehowSundown
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The title is borrowed from Oscar Wilde's "Panthea", and a portion of Anna's Bliss speech.
Fandom: V, 2009
Characters / Pairing: Lisa, Joshua, mentions of Anna, Erica, Marcus, Tyler
Spoilers: Spoilers throughout Season 1, particularly the episodes "We Can't Win" and "Fruition".
Summary: "How do you feel?' he asks, her chin still resting in his palm. His other hand is skimming over the healed skin of her cheek where the letter lay carved not moments before. He has her trapped. She wants to tell him that she doesn't feel. She's a V. She wants to scream. Lisa's thoughts throughout the episode "Fruition".
Word Count: 2,222
Author's Note: This story started out as a missing scene from "Fruition". Between giving the press conference and returning to identify her attacker, Lisa's face is healed. It evolved into a character study of Lisa's thoughts throughout the episode. It's labeled as Lisa/Joshua but, like many of their scenes thus far, it's up to your interpretation. At its very core, this story is hurt/comfort. Lisa needs a confidant, someone who knows the truth about V's and their emotions, and for me Joshua is the only one that fits the bill.
Also, In my mind, Lisa was able to pass of her emotions as part of her assignment until Joshua showed her the truth about her feelings, another reason I felt that it was logical for her to turn to him. After the empathy test, she has to go through the process of cataloging and recognizing her feelings for what they are. Throughout the story, Lisa may seem a bit naïve, as if she's experiencing the emotions for the first time. This was not my intention. I wrote her as if she's beginning to process that she's feeling, not imitating. I also wrote with the notion that she's neither human, nor V, not completely. I wanted to explore what would normally be a traumatic event from this perspective. Everything Lisa knows is changing, and as a byproduct of that she's forced to change too.
The Finite Pulse Of Time
Time, as she has come to know it, is linear. Fluid. Past, present, future. She didn't know it could echo.
She can't explain away these flashes.
She remembers asking about memories, observing Tyler relive his parent's separation in the chamber, but she feels nothing as she recalls watching the young man watching his past. This is different.
She sees her mother's face and the floor, rushing up, too quickly, to meet her own. It's cold and hard. She senses the crack of her bones and the slice of her skin. She hears the order to break her legs and the popping sound they make once the deed is carried out.
And she feels.
She can't make her eyes meet Erica's as she tells her no, she doesn't recognize the people that did this to her.
Time isn't the only thing she thought she knew.
Her mother's face is the first she sees when the V's arrive at the healing center. Makeshift maternal worry and enigmatic grace even as she frets over her daughter's battered body. For someone who knows nothing of human emotion, Anna is adept at imitation. She rushes to her daughter's side, unshed tears shining in her human eyes. Her voice quivers when she demands the names of the monsters that harmed her child. She's looking for answers she already has.
Lisa's folded loosely in the High Commander's arms, Anna's lean, human body shielding her view of the room's other inhabitants. She hears Erica whispering something she can't quite make out to her partner.
She's grateful for the excuse to keep up pretense, as she can't quite stop the tremors that run up her spine in her mother's embrace.
"You're safe now," Anna tells her, and Lisa tries not to be surprised at how proficient in deceit her mother has become.
She's wondering why her injuries haven't been healed when he enters the room. Erica has taken her mother away for questioning. She should have expected it; she caught a quick glimpse of her mother's physician before being swept into Anna's elaborate role-play. It's the first time she's seen him off the ship and he's impeccable, not out of place in the least. She doesn't expect herself to be nervous.
They're alone, and the thought evokes a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"Joshua." She tries for careful and composed. The guise of humanity left with Tyler and his mother and she's still wary of the doctor since the empathy incident. Walking on eggshells – she recalls hearing Tyler use the phrase after her impromptu visit to his father's.
Funny, she thinks. In her state, she isn't walking anywhere.
He's saved her life and risked his own and betrayed her mother and deceived her people and she isn't sure what to think. She isn't sure what to trust. Clarity, it seems, is a human emotion she has yet to experience.
He carefully feels for fractures and examines each of her contusions. He's all doctor now, here in his element.
Purple light begins to wash over her legs, erasing the angry red marks and piecing together her fragmented femurs. Her real skin isn't so breakable. It's tough. It shines. He tells her, as per her mother's orders, that the blemishes on the upper half of her body are to remain.
Poised, he seems oblivious to her discomfort. Lisa knows better.
His eyes are different from her mother's when she locks his with hers. There's something there. Something warm and solid and she's running on instinct – her grasp on her still developing human emotions is nothing if not delicate. Joshua's eyes, she thinks, if she had to label them, are knowing.
She's too confused, too new to this, these emotions, and she wants to damn him for setting her on this path, for bringing her fragility to her attention with the empathy test. She hates that this is something she can't control and she's confused and overwhelmed all over again. Imitation she understands, but this is something entirely foreign.
She turns her face away and attributes the burn flooding her cheeks to her wounds.
She doesn't think she'll ever be sure what to think.
"Do you feel pain?" Joshua asks as he prods her now unblemished skin. Those eyes bore into her once more.
She shakes her head. The bruises are gone and the bones mended. Joshua is good at what he does. But despite that, she still hurts.
Anna instructs Joshua to return to the ship once she returns, Erica and Marcus in tow. Some important component for the live aboard program requires the immediate attention of her chief medical officer.
She doesn't pretend to know her mother's plans.
She does pretend that she doesn't miss the understanding in Joshua's eyes as she avoids the probing reporters that try to catch hers.
After the press conference, they too return to the ship. Anna doesn't have much in the way of free time once they've landed.
"You've done well, daughter," and any other sentiments her mother might have had disappear in a flurry of footsteps. The tenderness from the healing center has all but evaporated. Chad and Marcus and a rush of eager live-aboards follow in her wake.
As hard as she tries, she can't subscribe to her mother's Bliss anymore. The words seem meaningless. She can't shake her past and her destiny has never seemed more out of control. Fear follows her like a shadow.
She's left with just the pulse of time. One of the many things she no longer understands.
She is alone with only the scars on her cheek for company.
She wants them gone.
The medical bay is vacant as she enters. V's are known for what the humans would call a Spartan style of living. Neat. Orderly. There is no mess, no clutter. No ornate rugs or accented candles – V's have no need of such décor. There are no macaroni art designs made in elementary school or colorful finger-paintings hanging on the refrigerator. Compared with the striking warmth of Tyler's home, none of the V living spaces appear to be "lived in". They're empty.
There are also no picture frames because there are no pictures. V's don't capture their memories the way humans do.
Lisa is suddenly cold.
She finds Joshua in one of the side storerooms, perched over a medical cart and cleaning various instruments. He's handling knives, like the ones they used to carve her face. She's overtaken by flashes again.
It doesn't take him long to notice her presence, and the sound of her name pulls her away from her memories. He's looking at her with thatlook again – the one that suggests he can see through both her human and non-human skin and see her. She's getting used to the nervous feeling that sets her stomach aflutter and dries her throat. She wants to demand answers; Joshua's been at this far longer than she has.
She doesn't understand her newly acquired habit of fidgeting when Anna stands near. She can't comprehend her inability to meet anyone's eyes today. The desire for explanation is almost as overwhelming as the emotions riddling her senses. She has too many questions and no one to ask.
"Lisa," he repeats. She realizes she hasn't yet spoken.
"Joshua." Again she tries for composure and pretends he doesn't notice the waver in her voice. Gathering herself, she tries once more.
"My mother wishes for the rest of my wounds to be healed." That isn't entirely true, she thinks. Her mother could care less, that much she's seen for herself. But Lisa has shown her scars to the world and the need for them is gone.
"Very well," her says, and leads her back into the medical bay. They're still alone, and the thought as to the location of the other personnel is fleeting. She has other things on her mind. He sits her on one of the tables, legs dangling over the side like when she was a child. She still feels like one.
He starts with her arms, the purple glow from the healer acting as an eraser to remove all traces of her mother's violence. Inch by inch, porcelain skin appears in the light's wake. The red fades from the bruises on her ribs. The contusions on her collarbones disappear until all that is left are the marks on the face. Those too are quick to heal under Joshua's careful ministrations. She feels the slashes knit back together as he moves his fingertips to her chin and he's too close, too warm and too gentle. Her eyelids fall closed and her vision changes from purple to black. It takes more than one swipe to rid her cheek of its carving and she's thankful for the time to shield her eyes. When they open again, they're turned toward the floor.
"How do you feel?' he asks, her chin still resting in his palm. His other hand is skimming over the healed skin of her cheek where the letter lay carved not moments before. He has her trapped. She wants to tell him that she doesn't feel. She's a V. She wants to scream. Instead she settles for a meek mumble that she's fine. He manages to catch her eyes.
"You're safe now," he mummers, voice low – another echo, and under its weight the last of her composure fades as quickly as her bruises under the purple light had. Her eyes sting as they fill with water. Her lungs constrict as she starts to gulp in air. She can't seem to take in enough to stop the ache in her torso. It slices her in half and she doubles over, crashing into Joshua's chest. He holds her steady as she heaves and strokes her hair as she sobs. She still isn't sure if she can trust him but she's powerless against the tremors that wrack her frame. Her nerves are on fire and she wants to run, away from Joshua and her mother and her emotions, but her legs crumble when she tries to stand. She clings tighter to him.
Long minutes pass as she cocoons herself deeper in Joshua's arms, until her tears cease and she can breathe once more. He takes her chin in his hand and dries her face with the sleeve of his coat. It's a very human action. This, she thinks, is what human comfort must be like. She's flooded with yet another emotion with which she has too little experience: envy.
"How do you do it," she asks, face still buried in his jacket, still holding fistfuls of fabric. She has plenty to hold, and she absentmindedly wonders why his coat is so large. Her query comes out as nothing more than a whisper. "Hide your human emotions."
He sighs, and that too is so very human. He untangles himself from her arms and moves back to his cart, and the shock of his warmth retreating almost sends her head spinning. She fights to regain her focus. It seems she has caught him off guard, and she's suddenly grateful that she's not the only one treading on unfamiliar ground. He busies himself cleaning while he speaks.
"Hope", he tells her, and she's confused all over again. She repeats his answer back as a question.
"Hope", he repeats again, "that one day I will serve a new queen, without the control of Bliss. One that won't condemn her subjects for feeling. One that will celebrate emotion and lead us to peacefully live among the humans." And he's looking at her, and his voice is full of something she can't recognize and she realizes he's talking about her. She wants to scream again. She wants to call him a fool – she's weak and fragile and how could she possibly be fit to lead? She doesn't know how to do this. She thought she knew Joshua and she thought she knew herself and between the things she thinks she knows and the things she knows she doesn't, she thinks she'll go mad.
Instead she settles for a small smile, and thinks she's getting better at masking her human emotions already.
"I want you to take this into the line-up with you", Erica tells her as she is handed a picture of Tyler. She's back on the ground, temporarily away from the prying eyes of her mother and Marcus. It's a nice picture, she thinks, Tyler's maybe a year or two younger than he is now. He's smiling. But still, she doesn't quite understand, and she tells Erica so.
Tyler's mother is quick to answer. Holding on to something that makes you feel safe, she says, gives you strength.
Lisa is pulled into another of the flashes she has become used to experiencing. She sees Joshua's face as he holds her own in his hand. She senses her skin knitting together and his fingertips as they glide across the smooth expanse of her cheek. She smells a unique mix of elements as she buries her face in his jacket. She hears his voice as he places his faith in her future.
And she feels.
Yes, she thinks. Holding on to something that makes you feel safe does give you strength.
This, she can say, she knows.
Author's Note:
Thanks for reading!