WARNING: Rape triggers. Read with caution.
She takes her things from the quarters she shared with Charlie and moves to an unused room a few floors below.
There is so much space.
Elizabeth is bothered by the space because from all their years together she has grown accustomed to a lack of space. He was always there, his things were always there and that was a comfort because at least she wasn't alone.
Now she looks at the empty room in front of her and it aches at her chest. You are alone now, she thinks. It's okay to cry. But she can't and instead she just curls up in a ball on the bed, her heart pounding out of her chest and she's so angry she sweats and her nails pinch blood from her palms.
Several minutes in, David manually opens the door to her new quarters.
He stands there and the light falls in around him, illuminating the dark spaces inside. He stares at her and then closes and locks the door behind him, walks slowly over to the bed and lies down next to her so they are eye to eye. Their lips are inches away from each other.
"I can't keep my negative emotions inside anymore," she whispers. "Do you find me despicable?"
He touches her cheek, kisses her knuckles. "No. Not at all. There is something about you that makes it seem perfect."
"Do you wish he were dead?" David asks the next night. She is elbow deep in grease, trying to rearrange an overheated circuit from the panel by her bed. She sips on a glass of wine as she works and her fingerprints leave black smudge marks along the rim. Nat King Cole croons from the speakers.
"No," Elizabeth says slowly. She is growing used to his strange questioning. Societal norms and sensitivity are not things he has learned yet. "I just wish it were different between us."
"Will you go back to him?"
"Mmm… most likely. When we return home. That's the way it's been for years."
She takes another sip, feels the alcohol swimming in her veins. Her hair has grown out since they started the journey. It is now an inch below her shoulders and she's begun letting it fall in loose curls. She dyed it back to black, her original color, because it felt more natural.
Charlie cornered her in the corridor after she did it. His face was flushed under the lights, coated in sweat. She wondered briefly if he was using again. "I don't like it."
"I didn't do it for you."
He smirked, his hand tracing her jaw line, the outline of her breast. "Can't you see? God, you're so naïve. You always have been."
"See what?"
"Something's wrong with David. Everyone can feel it. He's up to something."
"Everyone can feel it or just you?"
Charlie couldn't respond.
Now, with David sitting on the bed watching her work, Elizabeth can't help but feel a twinge of irritation. He doesn't want you to be happy, she thinks. Simple. Don't obsess about it.
The wine glass is empty so David refills it for her. Already she's feeling a little buzzed and as she finishes work on the circuit and washes her hands she begins to really think about things. It's been days since she's seen Fifield. The same for Millburn and Ford. She guesses Janek is smoking pot on the bridge and Vickers… probably getting her brains fucked out by Charlie.
Screw them. Screw them all.
She turns suddenly and David is standing so close that she bumps into him, spilling some of the wine out onto the tiles below. The room seems awfully fuzzy and for a second she's not sure if she's still turning or not. How funny. She teeters, reaches out but David's hand is already on her.
"I'm reading an increase in your heart rate, Elizabeth."
She licks her lips. The glass slips from her hands. "How did you know where I had moved?" she asks. "You came so suddenly. It was like you knew… you knew I needed you."
The wine seeps in between her toes. She leans forward into David's chest and his arms surround her. "The alcohol," he says, this time he is almost whispering, "and you've been sick."
"I…"
He holds her tight and his fingers press into her spine.
She dreams, or maybe she is awake, she can't tell because everything is coated in a dim fog and she's not in complete control of her limbs. She sees David hovering above her. He takes off her clothes and wipes her down with a cold cloth, pressing his lips to her forehead.
She fades in and out several more times until suddenly the fog lifts and she's able to see without everything being thickened by a fine haze. The first thing she notices is how dark the room is. There are candles flickering on the table, the smell of vanilla and rosewater strong as she forces herself into sitting position.
David sits next to her; he takes her hand in his own and presses it to his lips. "Where's Ford? I think I should see a doctor."
"I've tended to you."
The light flickers behind them and Elizabeth feels a strange buzzing at the base of her skill. Where are the others, a voice inside her asks. You have to find them. But as soon as she thinks it, David speaks for her.
"It was necessary," he says, slowly. "They had to be sedated. For the safety of the mission, of course."
"What?"
"Don't worry. It's like they are sleeping."
The entire crew?
Elizabeth's mouth runs dry. The back of her neck pinches and her palm slaps at it but the feeling remains. She touches it more carefully, digging around with the edges of her fingertips. Round, hard, just beneath the skin. An implant. That's how he knew where she was, that's how he monitored her. That's how he's monitoring her right now. Elizabeth feels a wave of nausea wash over her.
"I did it for good reason," David says. He is so eerily calm. "Believe me. It'll be better this way—just you and I."
She asks him nicely to take her to the medical bay and he obliges.
It has been fourteen months now.
The corridors are stagnant. Full of stale air, thick air. She wonders why she didn't notice before and wonders what all was in that water he gave her. There was a day when she passed out completely in the crawl space. That must've been when he inserted the implant.
"You are so clever, Elizabeth," David says from beside her. "That's why I like you so much."
Like me so much? This is not affection, she thinks. This is something sick and twisted.
David's body suddenly stops. His cool blue eyes turn on her, once over her body like she is so used to but this time it is much worse, because she knows he is not just looking over her; he's looking inside her. David tilts his head slightly. "Only humans can be twisted. I am logical. And you will soon understand it."
The entire crew has been placed in sealed medical pods in the medical bay. Their eyes are closed, sleeping, and as she goes from pod to pod Elizabeth's throat closes up. Everything, the whole thing… Charlie's there and she thinks she won't be able to take it but she can.
"I put them to sleep," David tells her. "They will survive just fine. I believe…"
"You believe?"
"This has never been done before. But I do think it is a better way to keep them."
A better way to keep them.
She is scared, anxious. But there is this small voice in the mind of her mind that lingers… The work will be easier now, faster. No one will argue. No one will argue and thank God because she almost couldn't take it anymore.
The thoughts inundate her; shake her to her core.
"I knew you would see," he says. "We are so much alike."
Her body moves of its own free will but there is something in the implant that can take over her at moments. At first when she sits down in the mess hall for a small dinner she doesn't want to eat. But then her hand is moving forward of its own accord, grasping the spoon on the table and delving into the bowl in front of her. Her body trembles. She doesn't want to open her mouth but it does anyway.
Her tears mix with the food.
The stew is a perfect temperature. Juicy pieces of beef and noodles, vegetables, and spices. Made to perfection by the only thing that's more perfect than it.
She finishes eating and wipes her mouth on the napkin David has placed next to her. Then he gives her a small scoop of peppermint ice cream and God, she is so overwhelmed that the last thing she wants to do is eat, but she can't stop herself. Her hand goes to the spoon again and then she's breathing mint, cool pieces like ice.
How could she have been so blind?
Her fear of being alone has undone her for the final time.
Stand up, David says, but not out loud. She complies instead of being forced, and finds his hands tangling in her hair. Her feet are bare on the cool metal floor and all she has draped over her body is a thin cotton dress.
"I gave you a nutrient IV while you were recovering. You needed to gain some weight."
It's true. Elizabeth feels her hips a little more prominent, her breasts, her thighs. Not by much, but enough. He has made her into the Elizabeth Shaw he wants.
Now what?
David smiles and her blood runs ice cold.
Her body trembles uncontrollably, like shivering but worse. Her teeth grind together to keep from chattering.
Imprisoned in her own body.
She still can't believe it. The tears have dried on her cheeks, red and raw, and she feels the implant in her neck throbbing.
It will be okay, David reassures her. But she is not reassured. They are heading back to her quarters now and the fear is building. Why the bedroom? Why like this? I was your friend, she wants to say. I liked you, I would've been there for you.
David hears but stays silent. His eyes have gone a shade dark, his skin grey under the low light.
She feels forced down onto the bed. Like his hands are on her, but they're not. Her muscles tense. She tries to fight it, but the pressure is so strong a joint in her shoulder pops when she tries to stand back up. Her knees knock together and she would cry, but her eyes are so tired she can barely blink. Why here? She tries to think loud. Answer me!
His back is to her as he takes something out of the drawer to her left. Nimble fingers, she can't see what he has and it terrifies her.
She swallows.
In her mind, she sees him lowering his zipper. She sees him forcing her to take him in her mouth, her hands pressed against either side, thrusting until she chokes. Elizabeth's heart races. Sweat coats her brow and she tries to slow her breathing.
Don't do this.
The cross swings between her breasts, and maybe it's no use to pray. Maybe God has forgotten her out here in space, maybe forgotten about all of them.
Slowly David turns. He cups the back of her neck and she closes her eyes, tenses her mouth shut tight but he's not forcing himself on her, he's wiping the tears from her cheeks. Then he's massaging the muscles in her neck, placing ice on it to help stop the throbbing.
She opens her eyes and he is glaring at her. His mouth is pinched.
I could never do that to you.
But how could she have known? How could she trust him when this is what he's done? Elizabeth feels his hands branching out to her shoulders, working loose the tension. Is this how things will be from now on? The emotion rests on her chest, heavier than she ever thought possible, and she lies back against the covers to rest.
Her eyes flutter shut, heavy with the orders of the implant in her neck, and she falls into restless dreams. She imagines cutting the implant out. She imagines Charlie dead in the pod, all of them dead and it's all her fault.
Will they survive?
They have to or none of this was worth it.