Chapter 34 - Captivity


I was torn. Torn between figuring out a way to escape, and the need to just be there for Spike. In the end, I just stayed close to him. Because, for now at least, we're safe. I don't want to trust Riley, but there was something about him when we talked - it just told me to trust him on that. Not that he's got a blank cheque, it's just that I believe he's done this because he thinks it's the best way to keep us safe. I don't agree with him, but ..

A couple of hours after I talked to Riley, I felt Spike move. I lay beside him, propped on my elbow to watch him, as the initial movements became more definite, and at last he opened his eyes. The look he gave me as he focussed on my face made me feel so humble. It was as though he didn't believe I'd really be there, but that it was what he hoped for with everything that he is.

He didn't speak at first, just gazed at me, as if trying to persuade himself that I wasn't a dream. Then, as I spoke to him softly, trying to reassure him, he responded, touching my face, my hair, as though trying to memorise me that way in case sight ever failed him.

I explained what had happened. It took a while, because at first he seemed to be completely caught up in just registering my presence. Gradually, I pulled his attention away from me, to the predicament we're in.

Now, he sits up on the bed, taking in the room.
"You've tried the door?" he asks.
"Not too seriously, but it'll take some effort to break down. It's what's outside that's the real problem. There are armed men stationed throughout the complex, and it's a long way to the surface. If we're going to get out of here, we need help, or at least a plan. Something I haven't given too much thought to, because I really didn't want to have to carry you out."

He almost looks hurt at that, then he spots the expression on my face. He grins then, realising that I was joking. In truth, I was just so worried about him, that, given that we were safe, it was better to do it together.

My suspicions that we are being watched are confirmed by the fact that we're joined by Westgate within minutes, and he's not alone.

He knocks at the door, but, given that's it's locked from the outside, it's more of a warning than a request for permission to enter.

Spike tenses at the entry, and I run my hand up and down his arm in an attempt to pacify him a bit. He responds, but I know he's still coiled, ready to strike if he considers the man a threat.

"You're feeling better?" he asks Spike.
I'm not sure he was going to answer at all, but I nudge him, and he manages, "Wasn't feeling a lot of anything until I woke up. Now, I'm just fine, thank you."

The edge of sarcasm isn't lost on Westgate, and he looks almost guilty.
"I don't know how much Buffy has told you," he explains, "but, for what it's worth, I'd like to apologise for what Dawson put you through. You may find it hard to believe, but her .. experiments .. on you, were not official policy. The sample taking, well, yes, that was official, but you were meant to be kept, safe and unharmed in case you were needed again. The other thing, that, well, that was barbaric. As long as you make no attempt to escape, I can assure you that you will not be harmed."

"So, what do you have in mind?" I ask.
"My primary objective is your safety, yours and the baby's. We would like to .. study what remains of your pregnancy, and to evaluate the child when he's born."

"She," I correct him. He looks bemused, so I make it clear. "The baby is a girl. So, your idea of keeping me safe is to use me as some sort of guinea pig - to study me, poke me, and then do the same to my daughter. Excuse me if I don't feel too safe right now."

"I assure you, we won't do anything that might harm either of you. Everything will be done with the minimum of interference. It would be normal for you to have certain .. examinations, measurements, and so on carried out at this stage of pregnancy, and we will continue to monitor on that basis. I've called in the most experienced obstetrician I could find to look after you, so you really will be in the best of hands."

"I want Dr. Chan. I don't want a stranger, even if he's the best you can find."
Westgate glances around at his entourage, and catches the eye of the only other member who's not obviously armed. He mutters something, which I manage to catch. "The doctor whose offices were raided."

"I see," Westgate replies. "I can ask Dr. Chan, of course, but I don't know if she'd be willing to come here. Obviously, I can't allow you to go to her."
"Obviously," I hear Spike mutter under his breath.

"I'll see what can be arranged," Westgate decides. "In the meantime, please make yourselves at home. If there's anything you need, let us know."

With that, he turns, and leaves with his merry band of followers.

I do my best to calm Spike after he leaves. It's obvious that most of his resentment is because of the intrusion into my privacy, so I minimise my own distress at that. What should be a private, joyful thing, the arrival of a child, could so easily become a public circus, and that's the last thing I want.

I'm hoping that if they take us out of our room for the examination, then at least we'll get some more information on the set up here, but I don't say that, because I'm sure they're listening.

"They watching us?" Spike asks.
"Looks that way," I answer.
He gestures to me for silence, and we both sit very still, listening for anything out of the ordinary.

For the first time I realise how noisy our prison actually is. There's the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights, the rather noisier sounds of the fridge, and then there's the sound of the air circulation system. We switch off what we can control, and listen again.

We both move around the room, as quietly as we can, enhanced hearing tuned to anything we can't account for.

After a few moments, Spike calls me over to the wall where he's been listening and looking for a few moments. I listen carefully for a few seconds before I identify what he's found. When we look closely, we spot a tiny lens hidden in what appears to be a knot in the woodwork.

Now that we've found one, others are found quickly, and before long, we've got five similar lenses covered, and we where the microphones are too. It's harder to do anything about them, but we'll just have to avoid saying anything we don't want them to hear.

"Feel like a shower, Pet?" Spike asks.
I don't know why he's suddenly thinking about personal hygiene, but I nod my head, and follow him into the bathroom. There's already a plug of chewing gum stuck over a lens in there, but Spike ignores that, and turns on the water.

Once the water is running, he comes close to me and whispers in my ear.
"Hopefully, the sound'll mask what we're saying," he explains.
"What do you want to say that's so private?" I ask.
"Not so much what I want to say," he replies, nuzzling at my neck, "but what I want to do."

He pushes me up against the wall, and if I'd had any doubts before, I now know exactly what he has in mind.

It was a long shower. One big advantage of this place, we didn't run out of hot water.

My legs feel like jelly as I dry myself off and pull on the towelling robe that's been thoughtfully provided. Spike and I make our way through to the bedroom, falling onto the bed together. Between the tension of being captive, and the recent physical activity, we're both tired, and before long, we're both asleep.

When I waken, I know it's much later. Spike and I are wrapped around one another the way we usually sleep together. I lie and watch him for a few moments, before I realise he's already awake. He flashes me a grin when I punch him on the chest, then I make myself comfortable against him. The fact that we're captive should be a big deal, but right now, I'm just concentrating on how good it feels to be close to him. I can feel Zara moving around, a limb of some sort apparently trying to poke its way out through my navel. Spike puts his hand on the point, feeling the strength in those tiny muscles, and smiles at me in a way that would make me love him even more, if that was possible.

Of course, being close soon causes our thoughts to turn back to other things, and as things start to get heated, I manage to ask "Shower again?"
"No, we'll just keep the noise down this time," he replies.
That causes me to smile, because it seems like an almost impossible task.

We make love again, and it is quiet, by our standards. I just hope it's quiet enough.

Afterwards, I become aware of movement on the other side of the door dividing our room from Riley's. I still don't know exactly what to think about him. So far, he's been right. We seem to be safe here, unless you count the 'being a guinea pig' bit, but I'm still not certain I can trust him. Of course, that's largely because of previous actions. Let's face it, since he left on that helicopter, he hasn't exactly done much to earn my trust.

Without discussing it, both Spike and I get up to dress. As I stand up, I feel a tightening across my front, and I pause while it passes. It's a side-effect of needing to go to the toilet, and something I've been having quite regularly recently. This one takes a little longer to pass than I've noticed before, but I decide that's probably just a result of our recent 'work out'.

When I get back from the bathroom, I find Spike prowling the room, looking pretty much like the caged animal I know he is. I'm feeling hungry, though, so I go to the fridge, pulling out some fruit, and cold meat. There's some bread nearby, so I make some sandwiches. It's as if the sight of food is responsible for making him realise that he's hungry, because very soon, the sandwiches are gone, and I know I haven't had my share. I pout at that, and he looks confused.
"I'm still hungry," I complain.
He shrugs, and goes back towards the fridge, rummaging in a cupboard close to it, and returning with some chips. Not the ideal healthy breakfast, but then, maybe we should take Westgate at his word, and tell them what we want.

I feel another tightening in my tummy, and my hand moves to stroke the board-hard contour. Spike notices, and he questions me with a look.

"What is it they're called? Branston Higgs?" I ask.
"Braxton Hicks," he corrects. He's been reading up on the whole pregnancy experience. "Any pain?"
"No," I answer. And I can't really call it pain. It's more an unlocalised discomfort.

There's another knock on the door, followed by an immediate entry. Westgate's back, and this time, his entourage is smaller. Still a couple of armed men with rifles trained at us, though, so it's not going to do any good. And, this time, Riley's there too.

"I hope you slept well," he says, looking around the room critically at all the bits of gum covering the lenses we found.
"Just fine, thanks," Spike replies.
"I'm willing to overlook the cameras," Westgate offers, "as I suspect the pictures wouldn't be suitable viewing for some of my men anyway. However, if I have any reason to believe that you are doing anything to betray the trust I'm showing, I have to warn you, that I can have men in here at a few seconds notice."

We don't answer. He doesn't seem surprised.
"I've persuaded Dr. Chan to attend you," he continues, "and she'll be here in about an hour. I've arranged for you to go upstairs to one of our medical suites where she can examine you. There will be another two people present for the examination, one is a doctor who is on secondment to my unit, and who specialises in non-human physiology, and the other is a nurse who will assist both doctors as required. I'll send someone to collect you as soon as everything is ready."

By the way he looks at me as he speaks, I know he only means me.
"I want Spike there," I tell him.
"That's out of the question," he replies.
"If you want my co-operation, Spike will be there. He's the baby's father, and he has the right to be there. If you exclude him, then you're going to have a fight on your hands, and you wouldn't want anyone getting hurt, now would you?"

As I speak, I reach out to hold Spike's hand. His arm is rigid, and I know he picked up the same message as I did. The difference is that he sees it as my choice whether or not he's present, so he couldn't say anything. I stroke his arm, trying to communicate my need for him.

Westgate looks around at Riley. He nods, giving his approval of the change of plans. Riley looks at me, and his expression tells me clearly that his reputation's on the line here. If I try anything, Westgate won't listen to him again.

With a sigh, Westgate agrees.
"Very well, he can be present. However, I will have to increase the security detail. They will be in the room, but you will be in an area which is screened off from them for your privacy. Is that acceptable?"

I nod. It's not ideal, but as long as I've got Spike there, I'll deal.