I own no characters from Man in the High Castle. I love the show and cannot wait for season 4, so this is my story. I hope you enjoy! All reviews as well as constructive feedback are very welcome!
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Juliana gasps.
The pain in her side is excruciating. Her hands instinctively finds the spot and she feels the warm fluid gushing from the wound.
She remembers John. She hadn't seen him, but she had heard him open the door and his boots hit the cold stone floor. She had felt the horror and awe in his being as she attuned to her world, then the multiverse. The last thing she remembers is being shot.
Juliana forces her eyes open. She is laying on the sidewalk in front of a liquor store. She sees a taxi pullover, and a young man jumps out to help her. "Call 9-1-1!" he yells into the liquor store. The elderly man in the store rushes to the phone.
Juliana sees a large yellow sign with red characters that she can't make out.
"Mandarin," she mumbles before passing out again.
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John stands in shock, slowly lowering his gun.
She's gone.
One of the security soldiers rushes into the room, "Sir! What happened?"
Reichsmarschall Smith steadies himself and inhales. "It appears Miss Crain has traveled." He glances sideways at the man then nods to the blood on the wall. "And I shot her."
"Is she dead sir?" The soldier asks, still startled.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Smith muses honestly. There could be no way of knowing that for now. His voice chills, "But for the time being, we need to focus on Hawthorne. I'm growing tired of waiting for answers." Smith turns to look directly at the soldier, adding "Get the wife too."
"Understood, Reichsmarschall." The soldier heils and Smith nods his dismissal.
John walks closer to the wall, and touches Juliana's blood. "Where have you gone to, Miss Crain?" He mumbles thoughtfully to himself. He wipes his fingers on the empty bed in the cold, empty room, and leaves. His strides are intentional and his steely green eyes focused.
He has an interrogation to begin.
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The beeping was quiet, but growing louder as Juliana comes out of her slumber. She blinks a few times, at first all she sees is white. As the world comes into focus, she realizes she is in a hospital room, and the beeping is from the instruments beside her bed.
"Good, you're up," smiles a beautiful nurse.
Juliana doesn't mean to stare, but she is a gorgeous black woman and a nurse.
"Where am I?" she groggily questions.
"Oh honey, you must have a concussion. You're in the lower east side of Manhattan. This is Mount Sinai Beth Israel hospital, the intensive care unit." The nurse rests a hand on her arm. "Do you remember being shot?"
Her sky blue eyes flutter up to the nurse, then down. "I was walking down the street, after meeting a friend for dinner. And I was shot."
The nurse is about to ask, but Juliana shakes her head before she does. "I didn't see where it came from."
The nurse sighs. "There hasn't been a lot of gang activity in Chinatown the last few years or so, but these things still happen from time to time." She patted Juliana's arm reassuringly. "But you've recovered well. You'll be able to go home tomorrow!" The nurse exudes kindness and joy, and Juliana doesn't know what to think except how grateful she is to wake up in whatever world this is.
"Thank you." Juliana offers a small smile, blinking tears from her eyes. "What's your name?"
"Sorry, dear. I should have introduced myself." The woman puts out her hand, "My name is Eliza Mahoney, you can call me Eliza or Nurse Mahoney."
Lifting her arm doesn't hurt as much as she was expecting as she shales the kind woman's hand. "It's nice to meet you Nurse Mahoney. My name is Julia Mills." She doesn't want to lie to this woman, but she knows the real Juliana Crain would be dead in this world. It feels ironic to use a name her attempted murderer gave her in a Reich long gone. She is so very thankful to have escaped it, for now.
"And now we have your name! Is there anyone we can call for you, Julia? You didn't have any identification when the ambulance found you so no one knows you are here..."
Juliana shakes her head. "Both my parents died in the war." She has no idea what happened to her parents in this world, but she also doesn't know what else to say to stop the questions.
The older woman nod with sympathy in her eyes, "I lost my son in the war."
"I'm sorry for your loss." Juliana replies empathetically. Eliza doesn't look in her 60's, but then again, Juliana realizes she doesn't know what a black woman in her 60's might even look like!
"And I yours." Eliza's expression is so kind and reassuring. Her tone shifts to probing but remains gentle. "What about your friend? She will be wanting to know you're okay."
"It's alright. If I can go home tomorrow, I'll call then. I feel… tired." Juliana closes her eyes again.
"Alright, dear. Get some sleep." Eliza pats her arm once more before leaving. She finds the doctor and gives him Julia's name. The other nurses begin to gossip a little about who this woman is and why she was walking alone in Chinatown at 3 a.m.
Eliza shushes them. "She isn't dressed that way, Mary. Now stop speculating and get back to working!" The junior nurses nod and scurry away. Eliza looks in the room concerned, but leaves to tend to her other patients.
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"I already told you, Johnny boy." Hawthorne grins although there is little to be happy about.
His hands are hanging from chains bolted to the ceiling. He is forced to stand on his toes so that his shoulders don't slip out of their sockets. His exhaustion is setting in. He hasn't slept in over 24 hours, his concern for his wife grows, and his arms and calves ache from his current position. But still, seeing the Reichsmarshal flustered is such fun.
John glances over at his assistant, then motions his head towards the door. "Go," he says simply.
The man is wise enough not to question or protest, heils and leaves immediately.
"Ah… don't want prying ears and jabbering lips to run amok? You've worked so hard to gather intel without the whole world knowing of worlds upon worlds. Even the men who work here with that foolish contraption, you want to keep in the d-a-r-k, d-a-r-k, dark dark dark, dark as in the movie-"
"Enough!" John growls, grabbing the stick from the table and stabbing his prisoner in the side, releasing a powerful electric shock. Hawthorne screams in agony.
The door opens again, the soldier wheels in Caroline Abendsen. She looks barely conscious. The soldier heils and leaves John alone in the room.
Smith takes a deep breath. "Now, Hawthorne. Answer me again. How is someone able to travel from one world to the next?" He levels his eyes upon his prey. Hawthorne's wife has anchored his attention. A second shock to his side snaps him back to the present.
"They are dead!" Hawthorne shouts, spitting blood on John's uniform. "In the other world, they're dead. You'll never see 100% success rate, John. Never!"
John goes to stab the man a third time but Hawthorne calls out, "Wait! You need to know… to know why it's easier for Juliana and her sister to travel between worlds."
Smith raises an eyebrow, and Hawthorne gulps. "They are at the center. Somehow, somehow… every world… their decisions matter. And usually, they die. One of them, in almost every world. But because they are connected, like magnets, they find each other in the chaos. Every. Single. Time."
"They're both dead in this world." Smith's voice drips with brutality. He needs Hawthorne to believe they have lost, that any resistance is futile and that his wife's life hangs in the balance in this world.
But Hawthorne scoffs. "You wouldn't be the first to doubt the powers of a traveler. What the body goes through as atoms arrange and rearrange through time and space… it's almost magical..." His eyes glaze over as he loses himself in the fantasy of disappearing with Caroline. Hawthorne never could travel, but oh how he longs to know what it is like!
"Perhaps they are important and maybe she is alive, if she survives. But she is gone from this world anyway. She abandoned you." John sneers.
"For now," Hawthorne retorts with wisdom and near omniscience that frustrates Smith.
John stabs him again. This time, for far longer than is safe to maintain a living victim for interrogation, but he doesn't care. His blood is boiling at this puppeteer, trying to make John feel the fool. His muscles tense, the scent of burning flesh causes him to almost lose himself in the kill. He blinks and returns to himself at just the right moment. His senses bring him back into the room and he hears the echoes of Hawthorne's wailing, now just a low moan.
John turns on his heels to go. "Remember, Captain. Remember." Hawthorne groans his response before passing out.
Smith nods to the soldier waiting outside and the man goes in with a few assistants to let Hawthorne down. If they leave him up much longer, he won't be any use to them. They also bring out Caroline so she can return to their "care." John has no idea if she will live, and he doesn't care.
As Reichsmarschall Smith wanders the hallways back to the machine, what he now believes to be a feeble attempt at a portal to other worlds, he reflects on Mr. Abendsen's words.
"Remember, Captain. Remember."
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Fun fact: Mary Eliza Mahoney was the first black registered nurse. She graduated from a school in New England in 1870. This Eliza is her descendant.