A/N: Coda to 3x11 – All Choked Up.
"Sas thelimatos tou emon."
Sydney feels unexpectedly weightless. The pain of the taser fades as her body relaxes into the wet pavement and the hold of the men around her. She can't remember what she was doing or how she got here. All she knows is the here and now and the calm inside her head. It's the most freeing she's ever felt. There's only one thought – finding the relic that Carson wants her to find. No other desires cloud her goal, no other thoughts. It's more peace than she's felt in a long time, although that's all she feels.
The sounds of the words echo around in her head like a broken record. They float across her mind, but she can't see them, can't form them herself; it's like she can feel them. The words are like smoke that dissipates if she tries to grasp it. They seem to mean statue of Athena; her Ancient Greek is rusty but that doesn't seem right, even if she can't put a finger on why.
The peace and calm and serenity doesn't leave her, but another emotion edges in here and there: confusion. She can't explain to Nigel why she's doing this hunt, can't explain why he can't come with her. She knows he usually does and has trouble comprehending why he can't this time. Carson telling her it's unsafe is logical but feels out of place. He usually accompanies her to all sorts of unsafe places, does he not? The questions that cause her confusion hurt her head, and she brushes them aside; after all, Carson knows best.
It's not until she's on the island of Skiros that something feels undeniably wrong. Caron's admission that she finds, buys, and steals relics unsettles her. The careless way the artifacts are being packed away makes Sydney's skin itch. Catching the pitcher that falls jolts something in her, reminds her that she cares about these relics, wants them to be safe and respected. Her head feels fuzzy with images that she tries to focus on, but can't. They feel important somehow and it frustrates her. It's like her mind is fighting her, and it troubles her; she focuses on that even as she follows Carson inside her home.
Sas thelimatos tou emon.
Her moment of clarity comes suddenly when she glances up at Carson – she feels like she's been hit with a sledgehammer. She's confused and out of depth and can feel her heart thudding in her chest. Her memory is in fragments but what is clear is that Carson isn't good, was with the men who held her down. The why doesn't matter – all she knows is that she doesn't want to do anything for this person. Carson is not her friend.
The memory of the fight in the alleyway, the men, and the taser flashed in her mind, and she needs to get away from this woman. She wants to find the statue – the loss of history means that she'll follow through with this hunt, but not for Carson. She won't do it. Sydney scrabbles for the necklace, understands suddenly that it's affecting her, and Carson soon confirms it; the loss of control over herself horrifies her. She has spent her whole life learning to take care of herself, valuing her independence both physically and mentally. To have it wiped away like it's nothing has her in chills. She can't get her hands on the clasp in time.
"Sas thelimatos tou emon," Carson says, and Sydney is struggling to remember why she was so angry, so panicked. The words feel important, and she finally has them at the forefront of her mind, can taste them on her tongue. She can't say them out loud – doesn't want to – but she scrambles for writing utensils as soon as Carson leaves. She has no idea what she's going to do with them or what they do to her; writing them down makes her feel like she's doing something though, like she's in control for just one more second. Then the peaceful feeling returns, and the words both fade and become all she hears again. All she needs is to focus on the documents and be ready to leave soon for the site.
Sas thelimatos tou emon.
The words tumble in her head, but they're not as encompassing as they were previously, as though she's trying to push them away. Having them written down helps, reminds her of a dark alleyway, wet pavement, hands grabbing her, and pain in her body. The images flash before her in moments of peace – when she's supposed to be sleeping mostly, and she isn't doing Carson's bidding. Sydney feels like these images are important and she's fighting to retain them in her mind, even as the words overshadow them.
Seeing Nigel caught by the guards unnerves her. She doesn't like seeing him manhandled – or at least not manhandled by anyone other than herself. Sydney knows she told Nigel to stay behind, and usually he listens to her. Thoughts of Nigel in danger linger at the edges of her mind; Carson told her he'd be in danger, didn't she? Nigel awakens something in her though, and she feels comfort in his presence.
He's here to save her, which she doesn't understand. She's with Carson, so what on earth does she need saving from? Everything is fine, peaceful. And she doesn't want him to steal the necklace. Backing away from him is instinctive but feels wrong somehow – since when has he ever shown any interest in fighting with her (Kali's knife and intellectual arguments aside)? Now that he's here, she doesn't want him to leave, and remembers the glyphs just in time.
Sas thelimatos tou emon.
When Nigel tells her the necklace has magical powers she brushes it off. It's ridiculous. Why would Carson do that when she simply gave Sydney an offer she couldn't refuse? Carson had no need for a magical necklace. Sydney feels fine. She's still refreshed and weightless; nothing could be wrong except for the volcano threatening the lost statue of Athena.
When Nigel mentions the builder Hatshepsut, a fleeting sensation of danger crosses her mind, but before she can examine it too closely it's replaced again by words that she can't grasp and her goal of finding the statue for Carson. Seeing the chamber brings the unease back to the surface; Nigel said it's impossible and she agrees readily. Logically she knows that Hatshepsut was a fantastic builder and the traps are subtle and deadly. Carson's reminder that she needs to find the statue brushes aside her own inner thoughts borne of experience, as well as Nigel's thought of impossibility. Carson is right – the statue must be found.
Sas thelimatos tou emon.
Sydney feels confident, looking at the replica of the trap in front of her. She's flexible, and comfortable in her body – this should be easy. And she trusts that Nigel will have done the replica properly. Moving through the bars and bells is smooth enough – one brush against a bar isn't enough to worry her – until the necklace gets in the way. She's not used to its presence, its bulkiness. Still, the thought doesn't cross her mind to take it off, and she flinches when Nigel makes the suggestion, relaxing when Carson denies his request.
Nigel's gentle as he ties the black cloth around her throat, and she's relieved when he doesn't touch the necklace. She can see his concern – it's apparent in every part of his body. He's tense and almost angry. At her? She can't say and that's odd – usually she can read Nigel like a book. Again, the feeling that something is off floats over her, but it's brief, and she needs to focus. At Nigel's insistence that she repeats the setup, she finds herself looking at Carson – it's like their voices are fighting inside her head.
Sas thelimatos tou emon.
Nigel breaking into her room is out of character, and this tells her something is wrong, although she has a feeling she doesn't quite understand what exactly is wrong. Sydney trusts him, of course she does, but his voice is jarring against the words in her head. He argues against them, and they're arguing back until suddenly she again feels pavement under her, the elevated beat of her heart after being in a fight, smells the rain that was just in the air, and feels Carson put the necklace on her. She desperately wants it off, needs Nigel to take it off before the words take over again, knows Nigel is right. For a moment she can't breathe, can feel the control that Carson has placed over her, can feel herself fighting against it. As his hands get closer to the clasp the words build into a crescendo and she can't fight them – if she doesn't keep the necklace, she'll die, the words tell her. The knowledge burrows into her mind, sets into her skin, and she needs Nigel to get away from her before he kills her.
She's hit Nigel before, sure, but never in fear for her own life, and that frightens her more than anything. Everything is jumbled – what she knows and what she thinks she knows is blurring together. She wants to go with Nigel with every fibre of her being but can't, wants to stop the guards but can't. The words are getting louder in her head – the words! – and she can feel the peace they bring, which contradicts the fear she feels at the gunfire raining down on her assistant. She trusts that he'll get away and she'll see him again though, and writes down what the words are trying so hard to force out.
"I don't think Nigel will be bothering you anymore," Carson tells her, and it feels like a punch to the gut. It's relief when the guards tell Carson that he escaped, combined with confusion when Carson tells her he tried to kill her. Her mind is scrambled – she doesn't think that's what happened, but she has things on her mind other than arguing with Carson. Don't trust Carson is on her hand, and it's something she's determined not to forget.
"The next time you see Nigel, you'll kill him," Carson says. Sydney understands the order, knows that it has to happen because Carson said so, and Carson knows best. The trust she feels for Nigel is strong and before they leave the next morning, Sydney remembers the writing on her hand and removes the bullets from Caron's gun. That Nigel was trying to steal the necklace doesn't seem so likely, and she trusts the words she's written on her hand.
Sas thelimatos tou emon.
As she moves through the chamber, avoiding the traps, she feels gratitude for her assistant. The blades start moving quickly, and she drops, ready for changes to the environment around her. She knows it's thanks to Nigel that she's alive.
Still, the order to kill Nigel echoes in her head, slides under her skin, suffocates her, and she moves to follow the order without question. When she comes up to him though, something holds her back. The words are still in her head, circling again and again, mixed with the need to get rid of him, permanently. The sight of him stops her in her tracks, and other thoughts break to the surface.
"No," Nigel tells her. Sydney stops at the sight of the gun, but holds the knife out. The order to kill him as the dominant thought in her mind, and the gun held out in front of him is far enough from his body; it wouldn't take much effort to knock it from his hand. She knows that she has the upper hand in the fight. "You wouldn't." His hands are shaking so hard she's not sure he could actually pull the trigger. She's seen Nigel afraid; this certainly isn't the first time he's faced death, but distantly she knows that they're usually facing danger together. It's the fear on his face, fear directed at her, that stops her. Her body is tense with effort – everything is telling her to kill Nigel, but everything is also telling her that she simply can't. Nigel is everything to her.
"I'm fighting it, Nigel." She raises her hand to show him the words, to tell him that she's not a threat to him. She hopes she isn't anyway. She's promised herself since their first hunt together looking for Buddah's Bowl that she would protect him. The fight within her mind, and between her mind and body is one of the hardest things she's ever had to do. Carson's calls to get it done mix with the words in her head, like a chant. Wet pavement, rain, unfamiliar hands, electric current are sensations she feels. It takes so much effort to show Nigel her hand and to give him the paper.
Her thoughts are a mess, and she doesn't know the real from the false. All she knows is that she doesn't want to follow these orders, can't do this, except she can and she will. Desperation builds as Nigel struggles with her writing. "Nigel!"
"Sas thelimatos tou emon," Nigel says with cautious optimism. Sydney feels her body relax. Her mind isn't quite her own, but she doesn't have to fight her own mind anymore. Rather than feeling empty, she feels safe, Nigel's voice in her head replacing Carson's. He repeats the words with more confidence and this time as he reaches for the clasp she feels no anxiety, no fear.
Later she'll think about how good of a person he is – how good to her he is. He doesn't hesitate to try and remove the necklace for a second, even knowing the power it has over her, the power he could have over her. The belief he must have in her to follow her across the world because he thinks she's in trouble simply because she took on a relic hunt for a private collector for money, the trust he has in her to fight the mind control based on a few words on her hand takes her breath away.
The removal of the necklace is like waking up from a nightmare. Her body and mind are her own again, for her own use. There's no need to fight for her own will, and it's quiet but in a way that feels like her. There's no other influence anymore, no orders she doesn't want to follow through on.
Placing Carson under the power of the necklace feels good, until it doesn't. She feels sick at controlling someone, even Carson, even after what Carson put her through. She takes off the necklace as soon as they're in the vicinity of law enforcement and it's something she never wants to be near again, either as the one in control or the one under control. She never wants to feel that powerless ever again.
