A/N: My unofficial editor warned me that this chapter probably warrants a trigger warning. I didn't even know what a trigger warning was. I had to look it up. So... yeah. Trigger warning for rape. No, there isn't any rape, but the topic is discussed, and candidly enough to make me consider the warning polite.
Chronologically, this happens before the previous chapter – the previous day, in fact. I wasn't sure I wanted to include it, which is why the bar scene comes first in the chapter order. Also, note that this is NOT the entire interview – merely a snippet from one of the later sessions. I'm not sure if I can do the whole thing justice with my current level of writing skill, so it'll probably turn up in bits and pieces over the course of the story to provide background.
Hell. I'm still not sure if I want to post it... oh, well. NO FEAR, NO REGRETS!
Doctor Jason Wells led the small, short-haired woman into the gaily-decorated interview room and shut the door behind him. Gesturing politely at the chair across him, he took his coat off and hung it on one of the pegs by the door while she made herself comfortable.
Taking his own seat, he set a small recorder on the table, nodded at the girl, and tapped the activation key. Smiling at her, he spoke clearly and carefully into the device. "Topic: Interview with L. Shepard, session four. Interviewer is Doctor Jason Wells. Date is Thursday, May 4th, 2170. Starting time is 0907."
She glanced at the small box curiously. "You do that every time we start. Wouldn't it be simpler to have the recorder keep track of all of that?"
He nodded, adjusting his chair as he did so. "It does. The slate – sorry, the verbal identification – is there just in case the file gets mislabeled somewhere," he explained.
"Oh. I see."
He cleared his throat at the pause. "So, continuing from yesterday... we agree that you don't have any real qualms about killing. Why haven't you left a trail of bodies behind you?" He asked, with a small grin.
She didn't return the smile, instead tilting her head at him with slightly narrowed eyes. "I don't know. Why haven't you raped me?"
He sputtered, nearly spewing his coffee over the recorder. "What?" he almost shouted.
She shrugged. "It's a fair question. I'm young, female, attractive, and I know you find me interesting," she said with a slight gleam in her eye.
"Shepard – L – I would never, ever do such a thing! It would be wrong on so many levels, for so many reasons-" he stammered.
"Pretend," she said coldly. "Let's say you're the kind of person who would. What's stopping you?"
"I... well, you're a gang kid. I know you can fight pretty well," he began hesitantly.
She nodded at him. "Good, that's good. I'd try to stop you, so you could be hurt trying it. What else?" her tone was demanding, and he almost flinched at the command in it.
"Uh... I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this line of questioning..." he trailed off at her icy glare.
"You started it," she said finally. "What else is stopping you?" she repeated.
"I... dammit," he swore. "Well, I'd have to make sure you didn't talk, somehow," he offered.
She nodded again. "Good. You'd have to ensure my silence... and there's no guarantee that you could do that. What else?"
"Uh, I'd have to hide the... evidence," he squirmed slightly at the phrase.
"There are other doctors here, and people I speak with besides you. Any rape would definitely leave marks," she said with a self-assured smile. "What else?"
He thought for a moment, then shrugged helplessly. "There are security monitors... uh, this recording... periodic audits... I'd have to fake all of those, too," he suggested.
"Difficult, and you might get caught," she acknowledged. "What else?"
He cast his mind about, not used to putting himself in the mind of that kind of person. "Um... there are guards here. They'd probably notice me acting differently, I guess..." he said tentatively.
"Good. It's fairly difficult to rape me, then," she said, evidently satisfied with the list. "What do you get out of it?"
He flinched at the question. "I- nothing! It's a horrible thing to do!" he said in protest.
"Pretend, remember," she reminded him sternly.
"I... Jesus." He put his head in his hands for a moment, before speaking to her through his palms. "Okay. Okay. I get... a short bit of pleasure," he said in a muffled and disgusted tone.
She nodded at him, despite him stuffing his eyes into his palms. "Right. What are the consequences if you're caught?" she asked.
He gave a short and bitter laugh. "I'm arrested, charged, convicted, and imprisoned for a good part of my life. I'm never allowed to work with children again. I spend years in therapy. My career is gone, my friends all leave, and my family refuses to talk to me."
She smiled at the blunt answer. "Is that worth fifteen minutes of pleasure?"
"No!"
"Now you know why I haven't 'left a trail of bodies behind me,' Doctor Wells," she said.
He sighed and took his face out his hands. "Because it's not worth it," he said flatly.
She grinned at him, all teeth and malice. "Exactly. People aren't willing to work with you if they think you'll kill them when they're no longer immediately useful. If you do kill people, you have to hide the body, and even then you have to make sure nobody suspects that you did it. Even so, if they were associated with you, there are often lots of questions by people whose job it is to find out the truth."
He gave a derisive snort. "I have a hard time believing that fear of the law stops you."
She shook her head, pausing while she thought of a better word. "Not fear... understanding," she said at last. "The chances of getting caught are high, the consequences are harsh, and the short-term gain is minimal." She gave a small shrug, as if finding her own answer not terribly satisfying, but at least realistic.
"I see," he said dryly.
"However..." she said in a warning voice.
He raised an eyebrow at her."Yes?"
"There are ways to kill people without being held responsible. Let's examine that rape idea again, " she said.
"I'd rather not."
She ignored his protest. "Let's pretend I wanted to see you dead, Doctor. I could kill you, in which case I'd be arrested and likely executed, or at the very least locked away for the rest of my life – a locked psych ward is still a prison, after all."
"I'm so glad you think killing me is a bad idea," he said, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, but that would only be if I jumped you with a knife, or something stupid like that. No, if I wanted to kill you now..." she pursed her lips, thinking, then gave him a cold smile. "I would knock you out, rape you, beat myself up as best I could, then kill you."
He tucked his head in his palm, finishing her plan for her. "...and go running, claiming that I'd raped you, and 'accidentally' break the recording devices on the way out. Jesus." He shook his head.
Shepard began talking in a perky, news reporter voice, as if telling a story. "The poor girl is examined, and sure enough, they find your sperm in her, along with signs of a struggle. Your friends and coworkers remember that you showed an unusual interest in her case. A jury of sympathetic peers deems the killing self defense, and she's given therapy and state support for the rest of her life, while the military has to do a whole bunch of stuff to stop evil rapist doctors."
He sighed. "I hope you're not planning on doing anything like this, Shepard."
She shook her head. "No. Why should I? You're just curious about me, and I have no reason to believe that you mean me harm or want to stop me from pursuing my goals."
"What if you did?" he asked suddenly.
"I'm sorry?" she tilted her head, not understanding.
"What if you did think that I wanted to stop you?" he clarified.
She gave him an empty smile and met his eyes, showing absolutely nothing. "Take a guess, Doctor," she offered quietly.
He shuddered. "...right. I think we're done for today. End interview session four, date, May 2nd, 2170. Time... 0916."
Back in his office, Doctor Jason Wells locked his door and collapsed into his chair. He stat there, unmoving in the dark room for a full five minutes before giving a long sigh and opening his desk drawer. From the back left corner, tucked behind a file on evacuation procedures that he'd never bothered to read, he pulled a small flask with a slightly trembling hand. He took a generous swig of the fiery contents within before capping it and putting it back, then started up his terminal and opened a new document.
Memo: Changes in interview policy for recruits undergoing psychological evaluation, for immediate dissemination to all medical team members...
The typing went on in the unlit office for nearly half an hour.