REVENGE

Yet another of the many stories to follow the Fierce Flowers episode. There are so many possibilities …

I think this is my second go at it. This is a darker tale. It deals with the aftermath of torture and rape. No, there aren't any explicit details here, but to be safe I'll give it a mature rating.

Princess wants her own "closure" to the abduction… She isn't a weak girl so don't expect to see her sobbing and wallowing in her own misery. She's tougher than that.

Disclaimer: Say it with me … Chorus: I don't own the birdies. And now the boys: I don't own the birds … birds birds birds…

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REVENGE

1 re·venge

Pronunciation: \ri-venj\

Function: transitive verb

Inflected Form(s): re·venged; re·veng·ing

Etymology:

Middle English, from Anglo-French revenger, revengier, from re- + venger to avenge.

Date:

14th century

1 : to avenge (as oneself) usually by retaliating in kind or degree

2 : to inflict injury in return for revenge an insult

— re·veng·er noun

Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary

She found it incredibly odd that Chief Anderson had this particular dictionary reference transposed onto a large poster and displayed prominently in the debriefing room at Centre Neptune. Revenge was something he claimed to abhor. He warned that it was an agenda more dangerous than complacency, yet here it was, behind his head, for all present to see.

While she had barely noticed the poster in the years previous during any mission briefing or debriefing, today she couldn't help but feel absolutely drawn to it. Her mind's eye carefully etched every line of every letter into her subconscious. It almost sing-songed into her brain, the whistful rhythms ensuring the words were memorized like a corny advertisement jingle.

Her focus on the poster was such, that she really didn't take too much heed to the discussion surrounding her. When prompted for a comment from her superiors and team, she made do with little more than an absent-sounding sigh that had the interpretive qualities to suit whatever response they needed.

One statement, or admission, she did hear was one by her Commander.

"Because of the relationship between Spectran Commander and the Federal Investigative Bureau, I had no choice but to let he and his squad go."

She allowed her eyes to rise darkly to him and let out a short and hard breath through her nose in disgust.

No choice indeed. Her mind responded. What a crock. There is always a choice, but you were too gutless to follow through with it.

She heard a snort from her right side – Jason – that seemed to agree with her mind's disagreement, and let her eyes sweep in his direction. She was somewhat surprised to find that he didn't voice his thoughts. She surmised that he opted to remain silent only to get them all out of there quickly.

She didn't particularly feel the need to leave the debriefing room just yet. She knew what was on her plate once it was all done. She had orders to visit the medical wing, and then attend an hour-long session with the base shrink.

A session with the shrink was completely unnecessary, she felt. No, what would be far more therapeutic would be an hour alone with Mark in any part of the wing that housed anything sharp and lethal that she could use to beat him to a bloody pulp.

Mad. Now that would be an extremely appropriate dictionary definition to add to the poster beside the one her eyes were currently locked on. And she was mad. No, mad was a gentle misnomer for her current emotion. She was irrationally pissed off, hurt, and betrayed.

How could he? How could her Commanding Officer, her friend, the one who claimed to have "affection" for her do this to her? Giving the order to kill her was one thing – an understandable thing – but to let the man who had abducted her, tortured her, raped her, and ordered an absolutely medieval demise upon her, to go free – because of a god-damned deal with the FBI – That was completely unforgivable!

Okay he didn't know the full extent of her three-days in Spectran Hell, but that was beside the point. He should have stuck up for her and defended her honour …

Her eyes slid toward Jason, who was snarling over the tip of a toothpick as he listened to proceedings.

…And so should have Jason.

"Princess?" Mark's voice. She felt it rip into her with about as much gentleness as a chainsaw. The sensation caused her to draw in a harsh breath and shudder.

Her response scraped through her teeth. "What?"

His brow furrowed as he narrowed his eyes to take an evaluating look at her. "I need your input."

Her green eyes darkened as she raised them to his. "I've nothing to add."

"I'm sure you do," he breathed softly in response. "You were with them for three days. You must have seen and heard information that may be helpful to this and future missions."

Her voice was uncharacteristically harsh as she cleared her throat and shook her head. "Just what, exactly, do you think my time with them entailed? Was I merely a visitor? A guest to their establishment, invited to learn and play?" She inhaled sharply. "Was it merely a play-date set to…"

"Princess, that's enough," Anderson warned softly, his voice void of aggression. "Mark was just asking if you were able to overhear anything while you were in captivity. We are all familiar with Zoltar's penchant for making sure he tells his captives everything before he attempts to murder them."

She rolled her head to the Project Chief and softened her gaze. "I did not see, nor hear, Zoltar at all during my captivity, Chief." She dropped her hands into her lap and winced at the sting of bruising inside her thighs. "I'm sorry I didn't have the focus to eavesdrop on any discussions."

"That's okay," Mark whispered gently, reassuringly, as he set his hand on her shoulder. "I understand."

Her breath flew into her with a deep gulp and she immediately stood and leapt away from his touch. "Don't touch me. Just don't," she demanded hotly as she rubbed at her shoulder. She took a moment to look at the other members present in the room and saw nothing but complete shock and confusion.

"Princess," Mark said softly, his voice tinged with confusion. "I'm sorry. I was only trying to…"

"What, Mark?" She interrupted angrily as she backtracked toward the door. "Make me feel better? You think you can pet me like a little child and say "everything will be alright?" and it will be?"

"Uh."

Anderson's brow flicked high. "Princess, sit down."

She shook her head and hugged herself. "No."

"That's not a request."

She sucked on her teeth and released a shuddering breath. She spoke quietly when her words finally came. "Then cite me for insubordination. I don't particularly feel the need to have to sit here and listen to all this. I was captured, presumed dead, tortured, assaulted and had an attempt made on my life. There isn't much more I can offer to the discussion."

"Debriefing is a team-exercise, Princess." Anderson used his whole hand to point to her vacated seat. "I want you to tell us everything about the past three days. Perhaps your team and I can see something that you are currently unable to."

Her shoulders slumped and she found herself staring at him in total disbelief. "My input will take approximately thirty seconds, chief." She refused to take a seat; instead she gripped hard on the backrest of the chair and pushed it into the table. "Day 1. I was in a flower. Day 2. I was taken to the underground complex by several guards in a black Denali and then was thrown into a damp room with concrete walls and floor – no lighting." She inhaled to continue. "Day 2 also saw the introduction to the Spectran Commander that Mark so politely set free." Her gaze shifted for a moment to her Commander before she let it sweep back to Anderson. "Day 2 also marked the beginning of the torture to find out who I was and how I survived the flower. Torture included whipping, choking, punches to the stomach and back…"

"Princess, I think that's…"

She raised her hand to Anderson. "Why no. No. I'll tell you everything seeing as it is so essential to the debriefing process." She caught stunned and sympathetic stares from her team out of her peripheral vision, but ignored them to continue. "After my identity had been confirmed via facial recognition programs inside their facility the true torture began. This, for the record, is still all day 2."

Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Prin, this isn't …"

She ignored him. "The torture shifted from purely physical to emotional and physical. While I was shown an image of Mark dumping the fuel in his jet over the flowers and the Phoenix firing a bird missile at them, I was held down by three guards as the Commander forced himself on me…" She hiccupped as she heard Jason's chair violently scrape along the floor, then crash as he tossed it to one side. She continued when she heard him swear loudly, punch at the wall and then storm out of the room. "I had to endure the laughs and taunts about how you had all failed while I was being assaulted."

There was a low growl from Tiny and a whimper of something she couldn't recognize from her Commander, but Anderson listened and maintained an impassive slouch in his chair. "Princess. I think that's about enough."

"Oh no," she countered defiantly. "You wanted a full debriefing. You told me to tell you all about it so you could see something I couldn't. So please, let me continue."

"That's not necessary."

"Oh it gets better," she practically sang. "After this Commander decided to have his way with the G-Force Swan, he decided to evacuate his bladder on me and give me one last kick before he ordered me thrown back into the room to be blasted with a firehose." Her voice shuddered as if laughing. "And let me tell you, 450psi on naked skin isn't a pleasant experience."

She waited a heartbeat for Anderson to interject once more, but he maintained a stare at her and sat in a light slouch in his chair. From her position it didn't seem like he cared at all about her torture, from the perspective of the men seated around her and the vein bulging at his temple it was obvious she was shaking him badly.

She continued, more for her own release than to further upset them. "After I was cleaned I was redressed, drugged, and then put in the coffin the boys found me in." She looked across at Mark, whose expression was one of regret and pain. "The rest, I am sure, you remember."

His response was a heavy gulp.

She just offered him a disgusted look and pushed herself out of her slouch off the back of her chair. "If that will be all, I really want to just go and take a shower."

He gave her a nod. "You're dismissed."

She pursed her lips and hugged herself as she walked out of the door, surprised that she wasn't crying – or even close to it. The revelation in the debriefing room was more of a release than a pained recollection of events. It allowed her to make sure that Mark knew exactly what he had done and …

… and, oh, was she still livid. She honestly couldn't believe he'd let the Spectran Commander go free. How insensitive! How absolutely careless! How … How …

"Princess?"

She froze at the sound of his voice behind her. She didn't turn around to look at him, instead she turned her head to one side as if speaking over her shoulder at him. "What?"

Mark winced at the venom n her voice. She hated him he could feel it. He couldn't blame her though. "Prin, I'm so sorry."

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Don't bother, Mark," she breathed as she took a step away from him. "I really don't want to hear it."

"But I need you to know …"

She stopped her walk and set her hands on her hips to laugh … loud. "You mean you need to make yourself feel better." She twisted her body to actually look at him. "Go right ahead, then, Commander. If it will ease your conscience to hear me tell you I forgive you, then go right ahead and make your apologies."

His head tipped to one side in complete defeat and sympathy for her. "If I had only known." He tried to reach out for her by setting his hand on her arm. "Princess, is there anything I can do to make it right?"

Princess looked down at his hand with little more than a flinch. She watched the fingers grip and release her arm then slide up to her shoulder, then looked up at him as he took a step closer to her.

"Princess, please?"

Her eye twitched and breath hitched. Before her brain could filter the command to her body she pulled away, growled, then drew back her arm and launched her fist toward his face.

"Get away from me!" She yelled as her fist struck his cheek and sent him stumbling backward with a look of complete bewilderment.

Mark didn't launch back at her, nor did he ask her why. Instead, he straightened himself and then watched her frown and attempt to shake out the pain of freshly bruised knuckles. It was now that he saw the extent to which the Spectran capture had affected her. Physically she looked a mess. Her frame showed the signs of weight lost during her ordeal. Her hair's luster had diminished, as did her spark. Bruises were finally making their appearance.

He didn't dare look down below her waist. He didn't want to see evidence … there.

Princess closed her fist and brought it to her mouth to give it a healing kiss. She didn't say a word, not even to offer apology for striking him. Mark honestly didn't feel that she owed him one.

"Princess," he began softly as he rubbed at his cheek. "I deserved that…"

"Don't," she whispered as her eyes finally rose to look at him in the face. "Because, trust me, I really want to do that again."

"If it'll make you feel better, Princess, do it."

She clenched her fist and curled her lip. With a shake of her head she let out a long huff. "Not if it'd make you feel better. I'd rather hang on to it."

"Let me make it right."

She pursed her lips tightly and shook her head. "You can't, Mark. You had him and you let him go."

"I didn't have the choice. We still don't outrank the FBI and the orders are from them."

"There's always a choice – and there's always an excuse." You turned from him. "You had to know what happened while I was with them, but you ignored it to …"

"I had no choice!" He affirmed in frustration. "I had to let him go."

"And if it was you who was violated by him," she replied quietly, "would you be so quick to let him go?" When he didn't answer she let out a long breath and walked away. "I didn't think so."

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Three hours and two showers later Princess was still unable to separate herself from the mess at the Neptune compound. None of the team had tried to contact her in this time, not even Keyop, who had returned home 45 minutes and 15 seconds ago. She heard him unlock the front door and walk straight to his room without even stopping for a second at her door to check in on her.

That was fine with her. She didn't want to have to try to explain herself or the situation to him. She knew he was old enough to understand the logistics behind the rape and torture, but she really wasn't sure he was quite wise enough to hear the emotional side of it. So long as she pretended she was fine and getting through it , he wouldn't feel compelled to understand it.

Hell, she barely understood it herself. Rape was simply something that didn't fit in her view of war. Honestly, what did it achieve? The Spectrans ultimately lost the battle, and her team still sabotaged what should have been a flawless attack on the female populous. Aside from the cheap thrill the head-goon got from his five minutes of … wham-bam and thank you maam … it had proved to be fairly inconsequential to the actual assignment at hand.

But he got away.

Mark, curse him. Why did he have to lower himself to allowing her captor to go free? It wasn't like the FBI could actually use any information to their advantage. G-Force would have to be the ones to go into the fray, anyhow. Zoltar never used the same attack, and he never used the same teams.

It made no sense.

What, really, was the agenda of the Federal G-Men?

She kissed the air and pulled her pillow tighter into her chest as she considered it.

The whole torture and rape thing was not a Spectran trait. She'd been abducted and held captive many times. Aside from weird confinements and taunts from Zoltar, she'd actually never been hurt or threatened in this manner. No. This wasn't a Spectran thing. This was an Earth thing. Zoltar was an ass, as were his goons, but he was never so low as to resort to these kinds of tactics. Hell. For all Zoltar knew, she was married to Mark and/or shagging Jason and either one of them would valiantly crash the next party to defend her honour.

She climbed off the bed and held her pillow to her belly as she lightly paced the shag carpeting of her bedroom.

Why would the FBI be interested in this Commander, when they've shown no interest in any Commanders beforehand?

She chewed on her thumbnail and cast her eyes toward the computer.

Maybe it was time to do some digging and find out.