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Chapter 9
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>Madre de dios,qué me sucedía? Dónde estoy? Y . . . por que? Cómo? Ay, ay, ay . . .

Cecilia opened her eyes to the biggest headache she had ever known. It throbbed behind her forehead, pounding at her skull fit to burst. Like someone was taking a sledgehammer to her brain. Glaring lights only made it worse and forced her to shut her eyes again quickly. A low moan escaped her as she rolled onto her side, pushing her face deep into her mattress. Or trying to. Something wasn't working right.

The headache was now a thing of the past. Cecilia moved quickly, twisting over further and pushing her torso up with her hands. She fully expected to feel soft, warm mattress under her palms but instead she felt . . . nothing. Not nothing, but just air. Her hands were floating as was the rest of her, her entire body suspended and surrounded by a glow she knew all too well. Through the beginnings of panic, she watched as Hank got to his feet from where he had been sitting. Now he knelt there near her, bringing himself down to eye level. "Hey there," he said softly, sweetly, his normally blue face green to her eyes. "Glad to see you're finally awake." His kindly smile begged to reassure her and that in itself was disconcerting. If she needed to be reassured, something was definitely wrong.

"McCoy," she said, warning. "Where are we? What's going on? Why--"

"One question at a time," he cut her off as gently as he could. "We were--for lack of a better word--kidnapped by a man named Nathaniel Essex. You do remember that?" Eyes wide, she nodded slowly. "Our exact whereabouts are unknown to me but I assume he has taken us within his stronghold." He watched as she blinked several times, then rubbed at her eyes as if trying to clear something up. "Your glasses," he informed her kindly, "Are somewhere around your feet. I believe they fell off as you were brought here."

Cecilia looked over, then sighed softly and grabbed for her glasses. The one thing the force field would let through was itself, which meant that she didn't have to go awkwardly fishing for her glasses. Instead she could reach for them as normal. Another sigh escaping her, she slid them onto her face and brought the world back into focus. Everything she saw, however, was still colored yellow. Cecilia reached into her mind for the mental switch that would shut the field off. Nothing. "Henry," she said, panic beginning to rise in her voice as she tried it again and again with no more success. "My field. What's going on?"

It was at this point that Hank really realized--this was not good. "I was hoping you could tell me."

"Oh God." The words left her mouth in a rush of air. Once more Cecilia groped with her mind for that trigger, that special something that had always shut it off but that trigger was locked up. IT was locked up in such a way that said it didn't want to be unlocked--it was quite happy where it was, thankyouverymuch. Cecilia beat mental fists against it, biting back very real tears. "Oh God," she repeated as she tried and failed and tried again. "Hank, Hank it's not working! It's stuck, it's, it's . . ." She seemed to collapse inwardly on herself, bringing her legs up and under her and letting her chin fall to her chest. She felt like she was twelve again and curled up on her bed, panicked and confused and feeling so incredibly lost she thought she'd never been found again. Only now she was twenty-seven and locked away in a strange place far from home of anything even remotely familiar. The real feeling was still the same though. She was trapped in her own little world, cut off and isolated away from any and all she cared about. All alone in her own sphere of protection.

By this time Hank really knew for absolute sure that this was not good. Whatever Essex had done had set Cecilia back past the point that she could control her force field, back to where she would have to start all over again. A process-- she had told him--that had spanned a week without food or drink or comfort. Those types of things were difficult to pass through a force field. He pulled himself up to sit beside her on the shelf and used one arm to hold her gently against him, a silent way of saying 'I'm here. I may be outside, but you're not along.' He didn't know what to say aloud to soothe her but there was one piece of information that was imperative to get across. "For now, I would leave it up," he advised her in a comforting tone. "Because as long as it's up, Essex can't touch you."

Cecilia tucked herself further against him, resting her head against his chest as best she could. It wasn't working very well. The force and pressure of weight was still there, she could still feel that. It was the real sense of touch that evaded her. The softness of his fur, the warmth that radiated from him--it was all alien to her now. Everything she had taken for granted was gone and she had the sinking feeling she would never see it again. "But for how long?" she whispered, eyes closed. The pessimistic side she had always used as a shield from the world was slamming back into place. "How long are we going to be here?"

Here, Hank had a better answer. "Theresa was with us when we found Dr. Essex, but she's not with us here. That means she's still at the mansion and by now they all know what happened. They'll be here within the day," he assured her. "Or we'll find our own way out. We're both doctors, both intelligent people. Between your invulnerability and my strength, there's no place out there that could hold up for long. And certainly not one like this."

"Promise?" Her voice almost begged.

Hank didn't even hesitate with his answer. "Promise."

~~~

Nathaniel Essex had always prided himself on being a gentleman. He was always polite, never forgot his manners. In his presence everyone was Sir or Madam. On the off chance he entertained company, he always opened doors and pull out chairs. The best of everything was saved for his guests and he only ever associated with the highest of society. He dressed sharply from a closet full of suits, his speech was clipped and well mannered, and he never, ever swore.

"Shit."

Except on very rare occasions. Essex let one expletive slip then bit his tongue to dam up the rest back. He leaned forward to rest his forehead on the cool glass of the computer monitor. He had been watching the scene in his cells unfold through security cameras and this was definitely not good. Even though he had not been able to hear what they were saying-- his prisoners insisted on whispering--the facial expression and body language had spoken loud enough. The damage he had wrought could not be undone. This was . . . this had to be dealt with personally.

Essex stalked out of his laboratory, fuming, and headed towards the downstairs. Everyone jumped out of his way--they had all been at the receiving end of his rage on too many occasions to dare bring his wrath down upon themselves now. He stormed through the halls, his footsteps echoing off of the steel, sterile walls as he went. Metal heels clicked sharply against the floor and his long stride had a definite forward purpose to it. His destination was the downstairs cells, where he would confront this little problem himself.

His two prisoners had quite obviously heard his approach. They had not moved from where they sat on the shelf, but their stances were defiant rather than defensive. No longer were they holding onto each other. Now they sat apart, each prepared and ready to hold his own. They were brave creatures--Essex had to give them that much. Brave and stupid. He always got what he wanted, and these two were not about to change that. Still, once a gentleman, always a gentleman. "Good --" he checked his watch, "--evening to you both. This room was initially prepared for only one person, so I'm afraid you may be rather cramped with the two of you in here. If you do require more space I would be delighted to accommodate you. One of you would simply be moved across the hall. If you are hungry I can have some dinner sent down shortly . . . Dr. McCoy, I see you have something you with so say?" Essex allowed himself one, small smile. As a rule, he was always a good host, even to the most unwilling of guests, and courtesy got him everywhere.

Hank was bristling with anger. "What do you want with us?" he wanted to know.

Nathaniel looked taken aback. "'Us'?" he echoed. "The two of you, you mean? My dear Dr. McCoy, I came across you both purely by chance. I didn't want anything with you, you just stumbled into this yourselves. Although, I must admit that your lovely lady companion has me quite intrigued." His voice had taken a mesmerized tone as he stared at her in rapt fascination. She really was so very interesting even though the current state of her force field had him more than slightly peeved. A challenge, however, was always appreciated.

But Cecilia had finally found her tongue. "I am a doctor, sir," she spat between clenched teeth. "Same as you. I expect to be treated with respect."

There was nothing feigned about Essex's surprise. From what he had witness through the eyes of his camera he had assumed Reyes to be a sniveling, defeated child. Instead he found her to be something more akin to a wry hellcat with a wicked temper. "My apologies, doctor," he replied with a bowed inclination of his head. "I meant no disrespect. It's just that your force field--"

"Bull. Your disrespect didn't come from the current state of my force field," she informed him icily. "It came from the fact that I am a woman. Had that not been so, you would have not been so condescending towards me concerning my gender." She paused, looking up to stare him in the feel with steeled brown eyes. "Now, if you would indulge me in something--and piss off. I have bigger things to deal with than you." As she spoke she crossed her arms over her chest, chin raised in defiance and eyes glittering, just daring him to object.

Essex smiled a thin smile. "You need only to ask, madam," he assured her. "And I shall depart. Leave you to regain what control you once had."

"You believe I haven't done that already?"

"I would need only gas you unconscious once more to call that bluff. You have yet to master it."

"Your fault," she shot back.

"Initially, yes," he conceded. "But if it is something you cannot remedy, well then the fault lies within yourself." His smile grew--she had handed him the opening he needed and it rested on the proverbial silver platter. By this point he had realized that she was both intelligent and quick-tempered and therein would lie her downfall. A challenge was something he knew she would be unable to turn down. Even moreso if he applied the correct bait to it. Thank God for thorough records. "However I expect you will not disappoint me. After all, if a little twelve-year-old could accomplish it, what's it so someone who is a full-grown woman and a doctor to boot?"

Cecilia glared, her eyes alive with rage. Her voice fairly shook when she spoke. "The only disappointment," she informed him, cool and calculated. "Will be if I trip while tap-dancing on your grave." She slowly approached him, only stopping when her field was within an inch of the glowing red bars. Essex met her gaze evenly and they both refused to back down. "Now get the fuck out of my sight." There was no threat, at least not one spoken. Her voice carried more threat than words would ever convey.

But Essex was not going to be beaten by a brat with a severe need of an attitude adjustment. His hand shot through the bars to cup the side of her face, or the shield that covered it. He ran his fingers across it, feeling the glowing energy pulse with life beneath his skin. Cecilia pulled away sharply and glared at him with all the hatred every cliche said she should have. "I'll leave you to your own devices," he told her almost sweetly. "But don't worry, I'll be back. I do loathe to leave my guests alone for long. Dinner will be down shortly. I regret to inform you that the menu is unknown to me but if you have any complaints, feel free to tell them to Aurora. How she will react is up to her, but you are welcome to try. Best of luck."

Hank watched in utter amazement as Essex turned and walked away. The man had to be mad. There was no other explanation for it. There was no way he could be such a perfect gentleman villain and still be mentally stable--it just wasn't possible. Cecilia wanted nothing more than to kill the man and yet he had brushed it all aside with no more than a polite smile. He had faced off against an angry female--one of the most dangerous creatures imaginable--and escaped unscathed. Of course, that left Hank to deal with said angry female who now stood fuming at the bars and looking very capable of nothing short of impassioned homicide.

"That unbelievable shit," she hissed furiously, her fists clenched tightly at her side. "That absolutely unbelievable shit, who the fuck does he think he is? Condescending bastard, I oughta kick his-- What!" At a touch on her shoulder Cecilia whirled around, chest heaving and eyes narrowed, to face a startled Hank. Her eyes closed slowly and, after taking a few deep breaths, her tone noticeable softened. "God, I'm sorry, Blue." She was one of the very select few that could call him that. He was sensitive about his appearance, but she treated him with neither pity nor distance about it. For her, calling him 'Blue' would be like him calling her 'Braids'. It was a fact, and not a judgement. "That sure was a stunning display of maturity, wasn't it? He played me like a freaking guitar."

Hank took her by the glowing elbow and led here back to there shelf were they could sit, and sit they did. He gently wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin. "You stood up to him when I blanked out. There are very few people capable of saying they've faced off against Nathaniel Essex. But don't trouble yourself with anything at all. We're getting out of here, remember? And then we'll be back at the mansion and Charles will help sort everything out. We'll shut down Essex and forget it all happened. Trust me on that."

She did.