Chapter 2: Breakthrough

A/N: I had originally intended surgery to be a stand alone fic. But Total Vaugh Lover and Anna Sun's reviews prompted me to write a bit more. Thanks for reading!

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Back in the dark. I lift up the hem of my shirt and probe the scar: thick, ridged, and tender if I press down at all. It keeps me grounded. The scar has faded a bit since the procedure, but it will not fade entirely. And as long as it is there, transecting my abdomen, I will not forget what they have done to me.

Other thoughts remind me of who I am. My father: still a complete enigma aside from his fierce love for me. And Vaughn. In the dark, long after our sessions, during what I can only guess is the nighttime, I imagine his arms around me, and whispered French endearments against my ear.

*

"You're name is Julia Thorne."

"Oh, really. Then why is it Sydney Bristow?"

He lifts the lever slowly, and my body convulses with the current.

*

But the only way to get out of here is to become her, at least for them. And to be convincing, it has to happen slowly. I can't count the days. I feel like I have lived in the dark for years. Time crawls.

Every time they throw a plate of rancid meat through the door, every time I sip the tightly rationed stale water, every time I relieve myself in the plastic bucket in the corner of my cell, I replay his words in my head. Julia Thorne lives well. Slowly I realize I will tell them anything to get out of this dank hole.

*

"You're name is Julia Thorne."

"Oh, really. Then why is it Julie Bristow?"

I pierce him with the same hard glare I give him everyday, everytime we come to this. His hand stays motionless on that lever, but his grip is slack. The corners of his mouth turn up in a smile, to himself. He reaches up to turn off the machine, and turns towards me.

"Perhaps we should break for lunch, Julie. Would you care to join me?"

The old man comes closer to me, within striking distance were my arms not secured to the metal at my back. I gather saliva in the back of my mouth, and when he leans in a fraction of an inch closer I spit at his face. It lands on his cheek. He wipes it away with the back of his sleeve.

"I will never eat with you."

"Guards! Take her back to her cell!" he yells, already heading toward the door.

*

The plate of succulent steak and garlic mashed potatoes is taken away before I can even scramble towards it. In its place they shove through a bowl of baked chicken pieces. Part of a breast, a whole leg, plain and dry, but fresh. I devour it, even the gristle, chew on the tendon, and crack open the bone to suck out any marrow I can. I suck on the bone long after every shred of meat is gone.

*

I am Sydney Bristow. I am a Bristow. I am a survivor.

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I will answer to Julie. I will learn how to be Julia Thorne. I touch my scar as I curl up to sleep, trace it from left to right. And then I will make them pay.

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