Twist of Fate: Chapter 19
by Lisette
Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.
With catlike grace, Buffy leisurely began to stretch out stiff limbs, Faith's name on the tip of her tongue and a contented grin lifting her lips as she lazily opened her eyes. For the first time since she could remember, she felt warm. Not at-home-toasty-in-bed-with-Gordo warm, but a warmth that radiated from her body and fought the cool air that encompassed her - warming stiff limbs more than she could remember in a long time. It was like Heaven to awaken to such warmth, even with the cold press of wood against her cheek and the bite of the dank air on her bare skin. But the warm press against her back, the breath fanning the small hair against the nape of her neck, and the heavy arm thrown across her waist and... pulling her... close.
Gasping, Buffy froze, all thoughts of her dream fleeing her mind as her body tensed, her eyes drifting down and locking on the unfamiliar, large arm that was draped casually across her waist. Stilling, she threw back her memories, trying in vain to remember what had brought her to this situation. She remembered the Centre, she remembered the beatings, the tortures, the hell... and she remembered a chair and bindings and drugs. Everything was so fuzzy outside the pain, but she definitely didn't remember this.
Moving slowly so as not to awake whoever was cuddled so intimately behind her, Buffy reached down and lifted the heavy arm, dismayed at how her arm trembled from the simple movement. Okay, so that meant some drugs in her system - something not at all unusual in the life of playing captive in the Centre. Gently she reached back and settled the large arm on the person behind her and then slowly scooted forward until she was perched on the edge of the bench, rolling off and landing lightly on her hands and feet on the floor. Ignoring the shock of the cold cement, Buffy scrambled to her feet and hurried across the small room, turning only when she could go no further, her back pressed against the cold metal door. And then, only then did she finally take in the person that she had been lying against.
"Jarod?" she murmured, her voice betraying her confusion as her eyes traced over his chin, noting the dark stubble that lined his cheeks. Shaking her head, her eyes skimmed over the hard lines of his chest, visible through the thin shirt he wore, and down to his bare feet - his clothing and posture so mimicking her own that it was obvious that he shared in her captivity. And then, her blurred memories from their capture returned... from their capture and her final kick of the programming that had been shoved down her throat for longer than she could remember. Hand lifting to her mouth, Buffy slowly felt her legs give out beneath her as she slid to the floor, numb to its coldness as tears burned her eyes. She had been so lost.. so lost for so long. It was as though while she had been under their programming... as though she had been half a person. Less than that. Her memories were clouded and vague of that time, and the only thing that really came through was the constant struggle she gave against the restraints that held her mind at bay - and the pain when she had finally broken free... thanks to Jarod. And he hadn't escaped. He hadn't run as she had asked him to... told him to.
Sighing, Buffy slowly made the short trek back across the room and settled on her knees on the floor before him, unknowingly mimicking his earlier position of hours before. Gently, she reached up and ran soft fingers over his brow and down the side of his face. Almost instantaneously brown eyes opened and focused on her face. "Jarod, what were you thinking?" she murmured, her voice soft so as not to startle him. But that effort was in vain as Jarod quickly sat up, startling Buffy herself so much that she tumbled back to land hard on her bottom on the cold floor beneath her.
"Buffy," he said, his voice a low timber as a hot flush burned in his cheeks, his eyes darting everywhere to avoid meeting her surprised gaze. "I... I'm sorry," he stuttered, rubbing his hands quickly down his arms in an attempt to warm his chilled flesh. "But your clothes... they made me... and you were cold..." he mumbled, his words causing a slow smile to lift Buffy's lips - the first smile that she had worn in quite a long time.
The sound of her soft snort caused his eyes to finally turn to her, an amused expression pulling at her lips as she gingerly stood and moved to settle lightly beside him. "It's okay, Jarod," she laughed quietly, gently leaning to the side and nudging him lightly with her shoulder. "I wasn't talking about that. If anything, I should thank you," she continued, her eyes sparkling. "This was the first time that I've been warm in a long time," she added, her expression dimming for a moment before another sly smile lifted her lips. "And it's not like I haven't been in similar positions before... oh.. on second thought," she added, a small frown pulling at her lips, "I guess that was the first time I've ever woken up beside someone before. Angel, with the whole lossage of soul, wasn't really into the whole cuddle thing... and I'm babbling - blame it on the drugs," she finished, smiling softly at Jarod's bemused expression. "But babbling? Feels good," she murmured, her eyes drifting away. "Haven't done that in awhile either... but that's not what I was asking," she finished, shaking her head curtly as she finally locked her gaze with his once more. "What are you doing here? I told you to run."
"I did," Jarod admitted, his eyes shifting away for a moment before returning to her startling green orbs, "but I couldn't just go and leave you like that. Not alone," he murmured, his voice sounding even deeper to his own ears as he gently reached out with one hand to cup her small chin. "What happened? How did you come here?" he asked, the question that he had been asking himself ever since he laid eyes on her pouring from his lips before he could stop himself.
For a moment, a thick silence fell over the room as Buffy pulled her chin free, her eyes darting around the room before finally settling on her hands which lay clasped in her lap. "I came home from patrol and found... Wonder Boy in my living room," she murmured, her voice faltering over Mr. Lyle's name. For some reason just having Jarod sitting beside her gave her strength to voice aloud her innate sarcasm that she had kept bottled within her for so long. It was almost a conscious effort to bring it out, reminding herself that she needn't fear retaliation for her smart remarks in the way of vicious kicks or even more painful beatings. Yet at the same time, she somehow realized that it would be even worse to call the man by his name. A monster such as her tormentor couldn't be called Mr. Lyle. The name was too ordinary and not nearly ruthless enough. The man was a monster, plain and simple - yet a monster that didn't deserve her respect. Sighing, Buffy slowly shook her head. The remembered pain was too near for her to be able to sort through everything yet and she knew that it would take her quite some time to finally work through everything that had happened to her - a thought alone which caused anger to surge through her veins, for it only made her feel weak. It made her feel like a victim.
"Buffy?"
Nearly seething in anger, Buffy jerked her hand away from the Pretender's, ignoring his attempts at comfort as she ground her teeth together. "They played dirty," she muttered, the words tasting foul in her mouth, "and some powerful drugs later found me here. That was..." she trailed off, her anger slipping away as she turned confused eyes to the man beside her. "Do you know what today is?" she asked, her voice sounding so young and lost that Jarod could only stare at her in silence for a moment.
"Today? I... I think it's Thursday," he murmured, watching as her expression fell even more.
"No. What day?" she persisted, ignoring the slight burning she began to feel in the corner of each eye. "What month?"
Stricken, Jarod looked away, giving her the privacy needed to angrily grind the tears from her eyes. "It's January. January 5th," he whispered, turning back only as a thick silence once more fell upon the room. Concerned, Jarod turned back and watched the soft crown of her head, her eyes focused intently upon the hands in her lap.
"I didn't know," she finally whispered, tearing her eyes away to meet Jarod's once again. "January... that night was over five months ago," she muttered, her eyes turning fiery once again. "I've lost five months of my life to those bastards..." she began, only to have her angry tirade die away as a look of shame covered her features, her small hand unconsciously lifting to her lips as horrified eyes turned to Jarod. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, her anger turning on herself.
"For what?" Jarod asked, caught up in the whirlwind of her intense emotions as he looked at her in confusion.
"Here I am complaining about losing five months of my life to this... place," she responded, waving absently to the room around them, "when you've lost almost your entire life. I mean, even with my shortened lifespan, five months is a hell of a lot shorter than-"
"You have nothing to apologize for," Jarod cut in, his voice firm as he caught her chin in his hand once again, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You had nothing to do with what they've already done to me and you have every reason to be upset about what they've done..." he trailed off, his voice faltering as he caught something in her eyes that he hadn't noticed before. Quieting, Jarod felt his brow crinkle in confusion as he stared into her eyes. There was something there that hadn't been there those seven months ago when they first met. Something that went beyond the horrors that he knew she had faced while being imprisoned in the Centre. "Buffy, what is it?" he asked, his question surprising her as she tried to turn away, only to find that she didn't have the strength to - physically nor emotionally. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked again as he thought back over her hurried explanation, pausing over her vagaries. "You said they played dirty... how?"
And in an instant, the tears that she had been studiously avoiding pooled in her eyes and then dripped unnoticed down her pale cheeks, leaving wet and salty trails. "Mom," she whispered, and with that one word, Jarod finally recognized the look that he saw in her eyes. A look that he had only really seen in one other place before: Miss Parker's eyes after her mother's murder.
"Buffy," he murmured, his voice cracking as he quickly pulled her against him, holding her tight as she buried her head against chest, hot tears soaking his shirt as sobs rocked her thin frame. And so they remained, for how long neither knew, the tears pouring down Buffy's cheeks as the harsh sound of heart-rending sobs echoed in the small room. Only there was a stark difference between this display of grief and the one that caused her break-down upon her arrival at the Centre: this time, she wasn't alone. She wasn't alone with her tears and the desperate agony, that after all these months, hadn't quelled. It couldn't. Her pain was as fresh as it had been all those months ago, for in the desolate hell that was the Centre, there was no place for grieving nor for healing. There was too much pain, day by day, for anyone to possibly progress down the normal path of healing. But now, at least in this moment, she wasn't alone.
"I'm sorry," Jarod murmured as Buffy's sobs died away, the small girl still held tight in his embrace. "I'm so sorry," he whispered again, his head bent low as he brushed a small kiss against the top of her golden head. "It's all my fault... they never would have known that you existed if it wasn't for me," he continued, squeezing her tight against him before she slowly pulled away, her red-rimmed eyes locking on his. Shaking his head, Jarod slowly bit his lip. "Here I'm supposed to help people - to make amends for my past... not destroy the lives of-"
Stilling his words with a slim finger against his lips, Buffy shook her head. "We both already have too many things in our lives to feel guilt for," she murmured, her pain filled gaze turning away from his briefly as she thought of both Angel and her mother. "Don't add to it," she instructed, her gaze filling with resolve as she turned back to the Pretender. "Neither of us could have predicted this."
Closing his eyes briefly, Jarod slowly began to nod his head. "We're both going to get out of here, somehow," he vowed, his words dying as the harsh grating of metal on metal echoed in the room. Startled, both he and Buffy quickly pulled away from each other, standing together and facing the door as it swung open to reveal Lyle, his suit pressed and neat as always with a team of sweepers flanking his sides. "Can you fight?" Jarod murmured, his lips barely moving as he risked a glance to the girl beside him. The presence of Lyle promised no good thing for either the Slayer nor the Pretender, and if they were going to escape, Jarod knew that there would be no time like the present.
The slow shake of Buffy's head was the only answer that Jarod needed. The drugs, he knew, were probably still in her system. She had nothing. They had nothing.
"I hope we're not interrupting," Mr. Lyle spoke as a wide smile lifted the man's lips.
"Even if you were," Buffy broke in before she could stop herself, "it's not as though you'd recognize what you were seeing." Smiling slyly, she slowly cocked one hip to the side, her arms crossed before her as she look him up and down with a critical eye. "From the looks of it, I'm guessing that you haven't seen any of that kind of action in a long time."
For a moment, a different kind of glint sparkled in Mr. Lyle's eyes as he took in the Slayer's pose, his eyes then skipping over to the Pretender, who was as obviously shocked as he was by the girl's words, and then back again. "And here I thought we got all that spunk beaten out of you months ago," he muttered, his eyes flickering from the Slayer to the Pretender. "And I guess that we you have you to thank for that, Jarod," he continued, his eyes boring into Jarod's. "Months of behavior modification down the drain leaving us back at square one... I guess we'll just have to beat some sense back into you both."
"I'd like to see you try," came Buffy's quick retort as she dropped down into a defensive position. "You cowards may have taken my strength, but you can't take three years of training!"
"We'll see about that," Lyle muttered, his expression dark as he stepped back to allow a flood of sweepers past.
Without hesitation, Buffy quickly launched herself at a couple of sweepers that were headed in her direction, idly noting that Jarod had done the same. As the first one reached for her, Buffy ducked beneath his grasp and sent a sharp elbow into his solar plexus. Grunting at the flare of pain that brief contact caused, she then ducked back and managed to land a couple of good punches before another sweeper arrived behind her, bodily lifting her and slamming her face first into the cold cement wall. Crying out, Buffy felt one of his beefy hands seize around her right wrist before he painfully twisted it up and back behind her. Crying out, Buffy struggled against him, but found herself effectively pinned. "So.. much for training," she muttered, wincing as the man's grip tightened, twisting her arm so far that she was sure it was going to snap.
Hearing her cry, Jarod quickly renewed his efforts, managing to land a right hook across a sweeper's chin and sending him to the floor. Turning, he then launched himself at Buffy's captor, bringing his fists down like a hammer on the back of the man's neck and sending him to the ground in an unconscious heap. As Buffy sagged before him, he quickly pushed her forward and then backed them into a corner, shielding her with his larger frame as his eyes narrowed on the few sweepers that were regaining their feet and their friends who watched his actions with bemused expressions.
"Like you could protect her," Mr. Lyle laughed, catching Jarod's attention from his relatively safe position by the open doorway. "Like either of you could protect the other," he added, catching the slayer's eyes as she tried to push Jarod from in front of her. It was obvious that she wasn't used to being protected, but in her state, she couldn't even manage to shift the Pretender from his position in front of her.
"Leave her alone," Jarod whispered, his voice sounding hoarse as he absently wiped away a smear of blood from a busted lip. "You've got me now - just let her go."
"And why would I do that when I can have you both?" Lyle demanded, arching his eyebrow at the two.
"I'll do your simulations if you just let her go," Jarod said, forcing the words past his lips as Buffy began to struggle even harder against him, her protests falling on deaf ears.
Smiling, Mr. Lyle nodded his head slowly, his eyes never leaving Jarod's. "And who's to say that you won't do your simulations if I don't?" he finally asked, a wicked grin splitting his lips as a group of sweepers rushed forward. Two of the largest grabbed an arm each and quickly dragged Jarod away from the wall, grimacing as they tried to avoid his frantic struggles. Meanwhile, two others jumped forward in Jarod's absence and seized each of Buffy's arms, catapulting her from her corner.
"Let me go!" Buffy yelled, grabbing the arms that were holding her and using their support to arch her back and kick up with both legs, just as Giles had taught, a bared foot catching each man in the face and sending all three crashing to the ground. Grunting, Buffy hobbled to her feet just as two others moved in, imprisoning her arms once more.
"Get her feet!" Lyle ordered as the two downed sweepers quickly stumbled forward, grabbing a leg each and suspending the slayer in the air between the four men. Even then, the girl's struggles didn't stop as she bucked and writhed in between them, her movements just as frantic and furious as those of the Pretender who was already being led down the long hall. And now for the real fun to begin...