Author's Note: Ohhh boy... do I owe apologies. Big, huge, grovelling ones for how long this has taken (and yes to any people following Puzzles also, that extends equally to you). I have no rational excuse other than shifting roles at work and work kicking my ass and... well for some reason both muses cracked it with me and weren't talking, so therefore I wasn't talking. But I think we're back, and Sunday is my day off, soooo - aiming for some good writing time.
In the meantime this is half of a chapter, but I wanted to get something out... so I apologise that it is shorter than the previous one. But once more back into the fray :)
Author's Note 2: There's a bit of foul language in this one. I am unsure how this works but I just wanted to warn you all.
Thank you so much for sticking with me - hope you enjoy.
Tx
Prometheus: Chapter 10
"I don't know."
"How do you feel, about what happened to you?"
"I…. You know the answer-"
"Angry."
"That's right."
"You were made a victim."
"Yes."
"And you didn't have a choice."
"He didn't give me one."
"Is that why you didn't give them a choice? The two people in that house?"
"I- I don't know… I didn't-"
"Jane, you know what you did... what they found."
"I know- I just-"
A gasp… air cool and burning and painful. Painful like… remembering. Fuck - she promised she wouldn't do this, wouldn't go there. Knuckles ground into the concrete, relishing the feeling of skin tearing, pain closing the void that threatened to send her consciousness reeling.
What the hell had just happened?
She knew the moment those bars slid shut there was no future. And she… she had no past. Other than murder.
She was nothing.
…'Is that why you didn't give them a choice?'….
No…. NO! she shook her head free of the words, knuckles ground further, but it wasn't- it wasn't working… new ones swirled into their place… foggy… confusing.
'You gave me a choice. You could have hurt me and you gave me a choice..'
New words. New, recent words. Different Truth. She could have hurt her but she gave her the choice.
Blood – trickling over her hand, into fabric – red against orange, red against cool white concrete. Red.. blood. Her blood.
This doctor… this woman wasn't going to hurt her.
Was it not the right choice?
The sound of her pen tapping against the corner of her desk had become a slow, steady rhythm that for the last twenty minutes had corralled Maura's thoughts into some semblance of order. She squinted at her laptop screen, the forefinger of her free hand hovering above the cursor as her eyes scanned along the list of icon-sized photos.
'Significant pre-existing injury.'
"Where are you…" She whispered at the screen.
The Doctor knew what she was looking for was already captured and printed in full colour in the filing cabinet just inches away from her left knee. She knew she could pluck it out at any time, flip through the leaves within and in less than five minutes find the answer to her question.
When.
But Maura had been adamant that the file remain closed to her. It contained context… detail… that for now, she refused to associate with the woman in that cell. The woman she had just held back from launching at her with nothing more than persuasion and an outstretched hand.
Would she have even dared, had she understood the detail? Unlikely. They did always say the devil is in the detail.
"Damnit.." She hissed, as she came to the end of the list for the third time. There was no reason for her to expect anything different, but her frustrated sigh still punctuated the air of her empty office.
A sudden commotion in the infirmary ahead of her diverted her attention. Hand braced on her desk she stood, slowly, watching through the expansive windows as two well-built prison officers dragged a similarly tall, heavily set woman with red-auburn hair shouting and cursing into one of the isolation rooms.
It occurred to the doctor that this was the first time she had seen anyone other than Rizzoli in those rooms.
She shook it away.
Susie Chang's face appeared at the window, her eyes wide with concern as she reached for the doorhandle. Maura was already crossing the room to the door when it opened, revealing her flustered orderly in front of her, wisps of dark hair spattered across her face, having come free of the loose ponytail.
"Dr Isles-" She blustered, holding up a hand. "We have- There's just been- It's a.. situation."
A situation – was that not the common state of being of the prison? Placing a steadying hand on the smaller woman's upper arm, Maura squeezed it once, reassuringly. "Susie? What is it?"
As if not expecting the contact the young orderly immediately tensed, before relaxing a fraction within the next instant. "One of the prisoners has – Ramsey-" Chang paused expectantly... in a way that made Maura feel somehow she should know this prisoner by name. When it became obvious to Susie it wasn't the case, she glanced around nervously then looked back at the doctor. "-she has a significant laceration to her leg, the muscle looks like it has been torn clean through, she's bleeding everywhere, I think, I think-"
"Okay Susie," Dr Isles interrupted softly, motioning her back outside with a hand to her shoulder. "She's in ISO-2, correct?"
"Yes-"
"Get an IV of antibiotic ready, suture kit and saline. Let's at least see how far this laceration goes before we begin making assumptions. I don't like assumptions – they are just guesses with purpose. And I don't guess."
As if suddenly recharged by the direction Chang's eyes flashed and she smiled. "Yes Doctor." She said with a rush of air, disappearing into the main infirmary as the Doctor closed her office door behind her and made her way purposefully to the very same ISO room where her experience with Bedford Hills began.
Her gaze fell onto the reddish-brown trail that smeared all the way from the entry of the infirmary, under the door to ISO-2 and continued to the centre of the ward where in a flurry of orange limbs, spatters of red and the darkly dressed prison officers, Ramsey was hauled onto the bed and deftly restrained.
"Fuck!" The voice peeled softly through the double-glazed glass, Maura only wondered how loud it must sound inside. "FUCK!"
Out of the corner of her eye she could see Susie hurrying towards her. The sound of the medical tray sliding across the concrete floors reminded the Doctor of the ER at Northwestern – it was a momentary familiar comfort in amongst her reeling senses and fraying nerves.
With a short, sharp, calming breath Maura lifted her access pass to the door. The moment the familiar magnetic click reached her ears she pressed the door forward and flinched as the air carried shrill words out of the small gap that move created, curling through the space and echoing violently down the corridor.
"Fucking – I'm going to fuck you all up, you're all fucking dead."
Susie pulled up short, the tray now rattling with the inertia of the sudden move. Hoping the conviction would reach her eyes Maura tossed a second encouraging look in the younger woman's direction and beckoned her forward, before turning back to the job at hand and pushing the door further open.
"AHHH! I'm gonna die - you fuckers!"
In an enclosed space the words sounded like a thousand speakers were lined along the walls, all blasting inward. Maura took a resolute step forward, and swept her eyes across the detail –the two guards, the bed, the back of the prisoner's head, the writhing of legs and arms against leather restraints, the drips of blood falling to the floor. She motioned back to one of the guards – who sported a long dark stain down his right pant leg.
"Not mine." He said, gruffly.
With a quick nod, Maura glanced over her shoulder to Chang who was inching closer into the room
"FUCK!" The word was spat out with the aggression of a person almost ready to kill the very air she was breathing. "Can no-one fucking hear me here!? I'm fucking dying here!"
"You are not going to die." Maura said.
"Who the fuck!?"
Setting her jaw, the Doctor moved closer to the bed, stepping along it so she was finally in eyeshot of the woman.
Ramsey.
Blue, piercing eyes stared back at her, "Ohh… Hello pretty thing…" The greeting flicked out of her mouth like a snake's tongue. Lips curled back revealing a smile full of crooked teeth.
Maura felt herself grow instantly cold.
"You are not dying." She repeated, measuredly. "Though there is certainly a deep gash and I do need to repair it… There is not adequate blood loss to suggest arterial damage." Pausing a moment, she let her face soften. "Though I'm sure it is painful."
There was a silent beat, where the woman did nothing but stare at her, and the only sound in the room was the slow dripping of blood against the concrete floor. Maura dared to take a step closer. Until-
"As painful as my fist will be in your cunt, bitch." Maura blinked, and Ramsey's eyes flashed triumphantly. "But you're too proper to scream when you come, aren't you?"
"HEY!" Came a bellow behind them, and Maura saw one of the prison guards approach out of the corner of her eye. She motioned for him to stop by holding out her hand. "Shut the fuck up Ramsey." He spat, "Or you're going to spend your lifetime in isolation."
Ramsey craned her head around to attract his attention, and Maura used the opportunity to motion Susie closer inside and move herself nearer to the bed. Every single nerve in her body was on edge…every fibre of her being repelled her from the situation. Every fibre that is, except her medical training. Because even from where she was standing she could tell that wound was clearly deep, and continuing to seep through both the fabric of her pants and the tourniquet, sending droplets of blood onto the floor beneath her.
There was little doubt in Maura's mind the injury was not life threatening, unless it became infected. All she had to do was stitch it, wrap it, and hook the woman up to a course of antibiotics for two days. Simple… just like Rizzoli.
Except-
The woman spun her head back around and narrowed her eyes – cobalt and cold.
"Oh, you sweet thing, I will fill you so much you wouldn't have a choice but to come so fucking hard it blew your brains out." She drawled.
"Ramsey!"
Without a seconds further hesitation Dr Isles reached across to the makeshift table, her fingers wrapping around the familiar syringe lying on cool metal. She saw the flash of recognition in the woman's eyes before she took an assertive step forward and plunged the small needle into the woman's arm.
The effect was instantaneous, but even as consciousness slipped away from the woman, Maura caught the slurred last comment that escaped her lips, internally recoiling at the chill that settled in her stomach.
"You bitch... I'll... make a screamer... out of you."
Her fingers flew across the open file on her desk, over the history, the photos, the convictions. Four murders, two sexual assaults. Armed robbery. Fourteen years into three consecutive life sentences. Maura quietly pondered the fact that of all the people she had met, Ramsey had been here the longest. Seventeen infirmary stays including two visits to ICU at the nearby hospital. Twenty Five stints in isolation... including one for 3 months (and another 12 years added to her sentence) as a consequence of killing another inmate.
Maura chewed on the inside of her cheek - then was immediately frustrated by the action. It was an old nervous habit, but had resurfaced several times in the last few days. It was one that Ian would always see through until she learned to curb it.
This woman, was certainly dangerous.
The sound of the door creaking open - and closed again - barely made its way to her ears until the shadow of a figure materialised into her peripheral vision. With a soft sigh Maura looked up, to find Frost standing ahead of her, hands shoved deep into his pockets, rocking back onto the heels of his feet.
"So…" He said, "I see you've just been acquainted with Louise Ramsey?"
Shooting a glance at the material in front of her, Maura nodded. "Yes." She said, looking back up at him.
"Phheew!" He shook his head, staring at the ceiling. "Well I have to say it, Doc-" He continued, turning his gaze back down to her. Maura found it... soft... "In terms of initiation to Bedford hills you've certainly accelerated. Rizzoli and Ramsey in the first week…." He shook his head again and clicked his tongue against his teeth.
Maura half-shrugged at him, then raised her eyebrows. "Luck?" She suggested, daring a small smirk.
Frost threw her a lopsided smile. "Drink?"
The doctor felt her shoulders droop in relief. "Gosh, yes." She said, then shook her head, laughing. "I can't believe I am actually saying this but I don't even care what vintage they're serving, I'll drink it!"
Grinning, Frost stepped around her desk and held out his hand, motioning for her to take it. Unaccustomed to such a familiar gesture from someone she had just met, Maura hesitated at first - fleeting worries about protocol and personal boundaries holding her back.
As if sensing her hesitation Frost took a step forward. "Come on, Doctor, I won't bite." He said jovially, extending his hand further. "Though I can't speak for the Chardonnay."
She stared one more time at the outstretched hand, the events of the last few days attempting to rationalise themselves around any potential social interaction. And while no answer was immediately forthcoming, the arguments against were equally absent. Finally, Maura reached forward, her fingers sliding easily into his larger palm. She flipped the file closed with her other hand as she rose from her chair.
What did she have to lose?