Disclaimer: I have nothing, Fox is a lucky bastard for owning Seth!

Author's note: Don't ask me what I'm thinking, cause I have no idea where this is going. I was just totally in awe of the fabulous reviews I got, despite me confusing everyone and myself somehow. LOL, thanks so much, please review again. Heather, yup Gothika was partly to blame for this weird fanfic. Great movie, everyone go see it!! I really hope I don't disappoint, thanks again all!

Lost In Babylon

Ch 2

From what I've seen
You're just one more hand me down
Cause no one's tried to give you what you need
So lay all your troubles down
I am with you now…
Hand me down Matchbox twenty
Nervous drumming of fingernails on cold metal tables, that's all that was heard as we were shuffled into our rooms again. Doors slid into places, and the loud clink of locks falling down upon us made it all seem that much lonelier. The same old sounds, looping over and over again, until they became as natural as the tapping in my head…the drumming of my fingernails, the deep slow breaths I took whenever the urge to rage tried to seduce me to dig those nails into one of those horrid robots standing guard.
But they had the advantage, their needles and their soothing words. Nothing ever soiled those crisp white uniforms, those untouchables who'd never understand what feeling gutted really felt like. How hollow you were after that lock held you in place once again, closing you out from the world.
I'm just doing my job darlin'… Be a good girl darlin'…

There, there darlin', don't worry he'll come back…

I want to scream for her to shut up, to stop speaking like I'm not enough for him to return. I want to stop her from mocking this, but my restraints are painful against my wrists. She doesn't care for my pain, she just watches me struggle, smirking softly…thinking I didn't notice. I notice, and hiss some more. A dull throbbing starts up in my legs, and I remember seeing this before, drones holding down my limbs. Cold fluid would trickle into my skin, and through my insides, and I'd suddenly imagine that these cooing words of comfort had some sort of truth in them. And my eyes would become so heavy, become so hard to focus, and I'd give up the fight to make her feel some pain. God, she deserved to feel some pain, like the rest of us feel these damned restraints holding you down. She coos again on cue, brushing my dark hair out of my face, trying to calm me while I only want to rage. My wants don't matter really, I hear a low voice say from somewhere inside my head.
But what if I forget, what if I don't notice if he did return to me? What if I make him sad because my incompetent mind couldn't hold him in there for just this little while? The sounds of familiarity return, locks jolting into place, drugs racing through my veins. And the lights go out, making me listless as I crawl underneath my cover. Suddenly not so proud, not so certain, I can't remember why I care so much. Things have gotten tangled and tumbled together again, and I know I'm stuck.
She walks around aimlessly, glancing around her. Slowly, watching birds twitter up into the trees beside her, as she takes deep breaths of forest air. Laughter sweeps up with the wind, catching her ear, and her pace quickens to see who's there.


"There you are," he laughs, heartily, like he's had a lifetime of laughing with her.


The clouds swirl overhead, and without warning snowflakes dwindle down, catching in his head of curls. She reaches over to brush them off…but then he's gone.


"Sorry darling, winter's come around…"


Heavy voices cackle all around her, leaving the luscious forest barren and cold. Then, suddenly, a beach appears out of nowhere, A soft breeze catching her hair as she inhales the heavy salty air that is coming in from the ocean.


There he is again, smiling as usual, waving at her to come closer. To come join him, as he continues strolling further and further along the shoreline.

"Wait…" she yells, and tries to follow him…to catch up. Hands collide into hard panes of glass, and suddenly she's behind a window, far from where she needs to be. Her voice falters, her fingertips start to bleed slowly and leave bloodied fingerprints upon the glass. And she watches him move on…she watches him be happy and it hurts so much. She never wanted it to hurt that badly.

I startle out of my hazy disjointed dream world, glancing around my desolate little cage. Greys and metals seem to be all that surround me, and some part of me remembers that my life held so much more color to it than this. I ponder softly if I imagined the scent of salt on the air, the feel of sand underneath my fingernails, but the locks shudder out of their places again and my thoughts scatter because of it.
"Rise and shine darlin'…" She's being too loud as usual, making me want to tell her despite everything else, I'm not deaf. Instead I'm just drawn to a row of crooked teeth flashing before me, intimidating me with a broad smile. I squeak my reply and cower slowly as I follow her to whatever destination I'm being shipped off to again. I find myself longing for the ritual of therapy sessions, just to cut out the monotony of the day. I hate that my head feels so clear, and so depressingly empty all at once.
I keep to myself, always, and no one tries to change that fact. Understandable, my ancient looking doctor would say in that comforting tone of his, and he gladly informed me that I had trust issues. Rooted in my childhood. Funny, I can't seem to remember anything except for these walls, these sounds, and these cooing little creatures dressed in white.
The day passes me in a haze after the desired amount of pills have entered me, I'm grateful for the distance. For the soft padding that they manage to put inside my head somehow, making everything else seem slightly out of tune, or so much softer than before.
"Hello Summer, how are you today?" His brow crinkles, grey bristling hairs tickling his forehead yet making me want to giggle instead. I nod pleasantly, not sure what he expects me to say, I'm in here…I'm always in here. Does that mean I'm fine? Or the opposite?
My finger danced atop his file cabinet, tracing curvy letters into the thick layer of dust that had managed to settle there. Cohen, I doodle in large pretty letters, and I'm so damn proud I remembered. My eyes begin to itch suddenly, and the urge to cry seems overwhelming as Dr. Van Dale fires his questions at me. Swiping my sleeve along the surface, I erase any evidence before he can badger me about it.
He directs me to sit down, and I do, a little less apprehensive than before. I clear my throat softly, "Doctor?" His dusty blue eyes look surprised, I'm usually a mute during these sessions, and his excitement bolsters my courage to speak.
"When do we have visitors again?" My eyes wander to my dirty sleeve, his name clinging to my arm in a heap of dust. It would do for now, I feel dizzy just thinking about this man, my fingers itching to sink into a bed of curls and forget about the emptiness in my head for once. Forget about all these questions everyone wanted me to answer for some reason. Didn't they see I didn't know anything either?
"Oh..." he gives me his old man smile, the one he gives out as a reward for when I dare to speak. I grin back, unable to understand the reason for it.
"Tomorrow actually," Dr Van Dale glances at the file spread out in front of him, his voice pitching in that eager way…that way that always warns me that those endless questions would come again. Confusion holds me tight, my mouth feels so damn dry as I try and cling to happy things.
"Are you waiting for someone special, Summer?" I shrug slightly, feeling uneasy again. Tomorrow, a voice in my head tells me in reassurance. I just have to get through this so it would be tomorrow sooner. Then I could just sit there, feel less confused and a little closer to whatever was outside of here.