A/N: For those who chose to not read it, Lisa got raped by Dr Greene. Woo.
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'Congratulations, Mrs Rippner. Your government is willing to negotiate.'
Lisa just kept staring at a fly on the wall until her face was forcefully moved to look at the man. Reza smiled grimly at her.
'Are you not happy, Mrs Rippner? Perhaps we will not have to kill you.'
He brushed some of her greasy hair out of her face and carefully removed the dried salt at the point where her eye met her nose. She tried to turn her face from him, but he kept his hold on her chin.
'Madame Mugniyah has requested that we release you into her care for the day,' he said, putting his face close to hers. 'You should be thankful.'
'I am,' she muttered to him, her mouth dry, keeping her eyes trained on his.
'Good.'
The door opened again and a woman in a long black dress walked in with a couple of the guards flanking her. Her long, dark hair was braided in a plait down her back, and she had a smouldering Persian look about her. She watched as Lisa's arms and legs were released from her bindings, and with a nod, dismissed Reza but kept the guards with her; Lisa quickly came to realise that they were her bodyguards. One of the men yanked Lisa to her feet harshly, making her shoulder crack, and Madame Mugniyah responded by hitting him on the back of the head.
'Be careful with her. Her life is worth more than yours will ever be,' she hissed, speaking with a heavy British accent, and in return, the man loosened his grip on Lisa's wrist.
Lisa curled a bit into herself as he stepped away, his grip replaced by that of the Iranian woman. She led her out of the room by her wrist; Lisa kept her head down, looking at the tiled floor of the area outside of her cell. The men stayed close behind them, their rifles held across their chests, and Lisa found herself leaning slightly into the other woman just because she seemed to be the least threatening person in the area. One of the guards passed them and Lisa looked up, vaguely amazed by the ornate foyer they were passing through. The guard opened the door in front of them and Lisa walked into the room with Madame Mugniyah. The other woman spoke to the guards and they stood at attention outside.
The door snapped shut and Lisa heard Madame Mugniyah lock it. 'Your name is Lisa, yes?'
'Yes,' she replied as the woman stepped around her and started gathering things from a closet.
'My name is Anoo,' she said, pulling down a robe from the very top of the closet. 'My husband arranged for your retrieval.'
Anoo turned around when Lisa gasped and started crying. The Persian woman dropped the things in her arms and went to Lisa, leading her to a seating area in the room. Patting her head awkwardly, Anoo poured a glass of water and offered it to her.
'Drink this,' Anoo murmured before returning to the closet. 'You shouldn't worry too much. The men are very harsh, but so is our leader. They are upset with you because you made them go against Fadlallah's commands to leave civilians uninjured.'
Her arms loaded with soaps and towels, Anoo walked over and pressed her back against a panel on the wall. It opened to a marble bathroom, and she nodded to Lisa to follow her. After tapping her glass to the top of the coffee table, the short brunette followed. When she got into the bathroom, Anoo had already set the things down and was drawing a bath.
'Why did they want me?' she muttered, leaning against a pillar as she watched the other woman test the water.
'Killing two birds with one stone,' she said, turning her grey eyes upon Lisa. 'Revenge towards your husband for failing in his assignment and the perfect opportunity to force Keefe out of the government.'
'I don't have that kind of power over Keefe.'
Anoo gave her a patronising smile. 'You already tried that lie on your husband.'
As the tub filled, Anoo walked behind Lisa and started untying the back of her hospital gown. Immediately, Lisa recoiled from her touch and she paused, her manicured fingers steadied on Lisa's back. Once Lisa relaxed a bit, she continued, and soon Lisa stood naked against the pillar as Anoo went to drop the gown in the hamper. Suddenly modest, she crossed her bruised arms over her chest, a faint blush coming over her face.
'You needn't be modest. The guards aren't allowed in here.'
'I'd like to bathe alone,' Lisa said in a half-voice, not making eye contact with Anoo.
'We don't trust you that much,' the woman said with a little laugh. 'You're lucky to be offered even this little bit of leniency. I will be in here, and I will be sitting next to the tub. We can't have you trying to kill yourself.'
'I'd never kill myself,' Lisa said, snapping her head up. 'How dare you even think—'
Anoo came over and slapped her across the face, dropping her hand quickly to yank at Lisa's already bruised wrist, pulling her away from the column and over to the bathtub, pushing her backwards into the water and glaring down at her.
'I am not your friend,' she growled, bending down to Lisa's face, her nails digging into the gunshot wound on Lisa's leg. 'It is only by happenstance that I am a wife and a mother and because of this, I have an emotional drive that none of the men here have. I know how it feels to be pregnant and alone but that does not change the fact that you are a prisoner here and I am above you.'
Lisa looked up at her with wide eyes, the amulet hanging from Anoo's neck brushing against the top of her chest. She was splayed about, an arm resting on the edge and her legs thrown askew under Anoo. With rage still apparent, the woman ripped Lisa's bandages off and shoved her legs in the tub, splashing more water on the floor that she walked across daintily to drop the bandage in the trash. Staring in the mirror, she pinned back some stray black hairs that had fallen out during the scuffle before turning her glance to Lisa, who was looking at her over the edge of the bathtub.
'You see the soap and shampoo. Start cleaning yourself. When you've finished that, I will give you a razor.'
Numbly, Lisa reached out and took the olive oil and almond-scented soap, wetting it in the hot water and running it over her grimy skin. Anoo wasn't focused on her as she powdered her face with a huge pouf, but something about the way she stood told Lisa she was completely aware of her every move. Of course, this wasn't any normal woman—she was the wife of a man on the FBI's most wanted list. She had to have uncommon skills just to stay alive.
She lathered her hair and dropped beneath the surface of the water, and when she came out, Anoo was sitting next to the tub on a padded stool, her head now wrapped in a shawl. Lisa jumped a bit in surprise, naturally shielding her stomach as she did, and Anoo just gave her a little smile. Looking behind her and at the mirror, Lisa noticed that there was a lanky girl, no more than six or seven years old, standing behind Anoo. She peeked out, her long, wavy hair spilling down by her mother's hips.
'This is my daughter Hediyeh,' muttered Anoo before speaking to the girl in Farsi, her tone quite punishing. 'She is not supposed to wander about the chambers specifically for this reason.'
'Hello,' Lisa said, dropping below the waterline a bit.
'She doesn't speak any English, so don't try,' Anoo said, dropping the razor on the side of the tub and turning to give instructions to her daughter. The girl scampered off and before the bathroom door closed, Lisa could see her sit primly on a couch outside.
Lisa finished in the bath and splashed some water on her face, grimacing inwardly at the state of her unshaved legs. She smiled a bit at the memory of Jackson shaving her legs, letting out a little laugh as she stood. Anoo handed her a robe and a towel before leading her out where Hediyeh was sitting, playing with the fabric of folded clothes next to her. When her mother and Lisa exited, she picked up the pile and brought it to Lisa, offering it up to her with a smile.
'Shukran,' said Lisa, taking the clothes and pressing them to her chest.
'Ahlan wa shalan,' Hediyeh replied, her hands clasped behind her back and twisting back and forth at her hips—Lisa was amazed at how socially immature the girl appeared to be.
'Hediyeh,' Anoo spat, and her daughter ran over to sit back on the couch before Anoo turned back to Lisa. 'Change.'
Lisa turned her back to them and shrugged the robe off her shoulders, setting the clothes on the bureau in front of her. She felt awkward undressing in front of the girl, but after looking at her in the reflection of the mirror, she could tell the feeling wasn't mutual. Looking over the clothes, she unfolded them and dressed quickly, finding them to be very comfortable Moroccan-style clothing that consisted of long, baggy pants and a dress that went to below her knees. Anoo came up behind her and took her hair out of the towel, brushing it carefully and then tying it back in a plait like her own before pulling on a headband-like cloth to cover her hairline. Once it was in place, she picked up another light cloth from the bureau and pulled it onto Lisa's head, smoothing out the fabric around her face.
'Please just tell me one thing,' Lisa said, pulling at the sleeves of her dress nervously as she studied her own hijab-framed face in the mirror. 'Is my husband dead?'
Anoo set the brush back down on her bureau. 'No.'
