You guys are all so awesome, I don't even know who to dedicate this chapter to! I think this one has to go to Shiny, who asked "If Alia possesses information that is so very valuable to Khan, why did he drop a bloody great building on her?" :D Very valid question, but you'll have to wait a bit for the answer.

Previously…

At length, he nodded. "Very well. But never forget that I control this exchange. When I tire of it there will be no protest."

Alia almost collapsed in relief. She wanted answers at least as badly as he did, and she was pleased with herself for negotiating to get them. Even if agreeing was nothing more than a whim on his part.

"Excellent," she murmured, consciously trying to emulate his commanding tone. "Proceed."

xXx

4

Any illusion she possessed about having some kind of influence over the situation fled when he dragged the chair from the corner to the center of the room… Then, without warning, did the same to her. His grip on her arm was doubly painful considering that his long fingers put pressure on the new bruises he'd already given her. She disliked the way he controlled her physically, the way he positioned her like a poseable doll. Seated, she felt what she knew he'd wanted her to feel: that she was the one being interrogated, no matter how many questions he allowed her to ask. Well. He'd made the first move, but she'd have the first words.

"You could just tell me, you know," she said, purposely breaking the quiet she was well aware was not meant to be broken. Her voice was not strong but she knew the simple act of speaking was a form of defiance. "Tell me where to go instead of breaking my arm each time you wanted me somewhere."

His face showed no emotion as he grabbed her arms again, fingers unerringly finding their tender little shadows on her skin, and forced her to stand. Their eyes met, and she felt that disconcerting thrill of fear and awareness that always seemed to jolt through her when he was in close proximity. It felt like static, or lightning, electricity dancing on her skin.

"I could," he agreed, then deliberately forced her down once more. Putting her in her place. Her face burned with humiliation, but also anger, neither of which he seemed to notice.

He stepped back and examined her in silence. His gaze skimmed over her, leisurely, thoroughly, and she fought the urge to cross her arms in a gesture of self-protection. She felt so exposed with nothing but the thin hospital tunic between her naked body and his feral eyes. It was obvious he was doing his best to make her as uncomfortable as possible, putting her at yet another disadvantage, and it's not that it wasn't working. But she raised her chin, met his eyes evenly: her pride would not allow her to do otherwise.

Finally, he spoke. "You are aware that you have information I want. You are aware of the lengths I will go to obtain it. If you lie, I will know it."

She nodded nervously. "I am aware."

"Now," he began, "Name, rank and serial number?"

She opened her mouth, tried to think, but there was nothing; she couldn't answer.

"No," he ordered. "Do not think. Simply respond. You are allowing your mind to get in its own way. It knows these facts as unconsciously as your heart knows how to beat. Name. Rank. Serial number."

The words came easily this time, automatically, as if she'd never forgotten. "Zaytseva, Alia Inessa. Lieutenant. 543-043… 043… 043-Something."

"0436 AM," he completed for her.

Of course he'd know more about her than she knew about herself. But then, why ask?

"You were… Testing me," she ventured.

"Naturally. And I am pleased to know that some information remains or has returned."

If this was him pleased, this deadly intensity, this powerful focus, she hoped never to see him displeased. He pinned her with a sharp look and she felt as though the room had fallen away. That it did not exist, that the entire world had condensed to just the two of them and their game of chess disguised as a game of questions.

Her move.

"Who- and what- are you?" Her eyes never left his face, as his never left hers.

He considered for a moment, gauging, she was sure, how much to reveal. It would be well to remember that he had given her no guarantee of truthfulness. "I am called John Harrison. Commander John Harrison. And I am… Not human. More than human. You would not understand."

Alia barely heard the second half of his revelation. She was too shocked by the knowledge that this man- John- was not just a terrorist but a traitor, a relatively high-ranking traitor who had murdered the very men and women he had sworn to lead.

"Oh, this bothers you, does it?" His rich voice was darkly amused as he stalked lazily about the room. "To know that I attacked not from without but from within?"

She let her contempt show clearly on her face, mouth drawn in a tight line, eyes flashing. "It doesn't bother me," she said evenly. "It sickens me."

"Do you truly believe that those who control Starfleet act in the best interests of their forces? Of the Federation? You are a fool."

"No," she spat, "But I believe that they ought to."

He bared his teeth in a savage smile. "Perhaps I believe the same."

"And yet you murdered innocents."

"No. Innocence is all a matter of whose blood is on one's hands. Had I allowed Starfleet Command to point me at a target and use me as a weapon, they would have given me a medal. Every one of those men and women had Starfleet-sanctioned blood on their hands, and that I could not forgive. Now tell me," he continued, halting his pacing directly in front of her, "What, precisely, did you do at Section 31?"

She understood from the force of his regard that this question was vital, understood that for her to have any chance of earning more information from him, she would have to answer it. Unfortunately it was… Unanswerable.

"I don't know what you mean," she said, uneasy. She couldn't even imagine why he'd ask. He, who'd known her name, rank and serial number before she did. Surely he knew his question was wrong?

"Come, it is another simple question. Do not think. You know the ans-"

"It's not a matter of thinking or not thinking," she snapped, shifting restlessly in her seat as he moved closer, intimidating her with the power of his form. "I know that I did nothing at Section 31. I never worked there. I worked at the Kelvin Memorial Archive."

"They are one and the same," he told her. "As you very well know."

"No," she contradicted. "No, they're not. They're…" She trailed off, frustrated. It was so hard to explain, because she knew these things innately but couldn't remember them clearly enough to put the concepts into words. "They're on top of each other. The archive isn't... Fictional or anything. People do work there. I did."

"You disappoint me," he said in that quiet, deadly voice, leaning down so that their faces were level, his perfectly defined mouth so close to hers. Too close, far too close, for her peace of mind. She could feel his heat, feel him breathing, and was afraid. "I had thought to find you more… Cooperative."

She swallowed, her throat dry. "You did. I am. I'm being honest. I cannot help if my answers are not the ones you want to hear. I did warn you."

"Ah. Then show me your honesty." His voice was mocking, as though daring her to attempt her supposed lie once more. "Tell me about the Kelvin Memorial Archive."

"I… It's…" She struggled to explain the rush of feelings and half-formed memories that swirled in her head in answer to his question. "There was obviously something going on, something secret. I knew that. But I didn't have clearance, didn't know what the project was. I was… I don't know what I was. But I was not… Special, am not. My work was within the Archive."

He looked at her for a very long time, trying to read her face, and gave no reaction to her words. "You're lying. You must be lying," he said.

"I'm not," she answered helplessly. For just a moment, there was a brief flash of something in his eyes, something on his face. Of vulnerability, of uncertainty. Suddenly she realized that he needed her to have this information, that it was life and death to him... And to her, which was unfortunate. "Look at me, you know I'm not! You said if I lied you would know, surely you can see I'm telling the truth."

To her immense relief he pulled back just enough to get a full view of her face and stared, arrested. Whatever he saw there- her innocence, she hoped- made him stand fully and turn away, the motion so abrupt she barely caught it. Alia let out a shuddery breath, pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart was pounding.

"You cannot be," he muttered, agitated. "You cannot be telling the truth. I saw you there. Below the Archive, in the restricted section. You were not one of mine, I knew you had to be there at Admiral Marcus's behest. That he was using you to get around me."

No. That didn't feel true. "If I was ever there, I don't remember now. But I know I never worked for Admiral Marcus."

"I was practically the head of Section 31," he snapped. "You were either there at my behest or at his. I think I'd know if it was the former."

"John." She deliberately used his name for the first time in hopes that it might soften him. Humanize him. She was not above that slightest level of manipulation, and even went so far as to attempt a pleading look. "Please, tell me. What information could you possibly think I have? And why would you possibly think I have it?"

A muscle in his cheek twitched as he considered whether or not to answer her. Or whether or not to beat her to death with his bare hands. His face was so blank it was difficult to determine.

"I know you have information about the location of something I require most desperately," he told her, eyes blazing "And I know because I saw you take it."

TBC

Not the end of the interrogation, just the end of the chapter... Because I like to keep you on your toes :)