Chapter 2

The Rebel Queen

They'd stripped her of her clothes and given her a fresh pair that only the Insensible wore. She was still in her sterile cage, a place where they kept all of the rebels until they were sentenced to death. She had offended, greatly, and now she would pay with her life. She looked in the mirror at her image. The brown skin reflected greatly off of the dour black tunic. It was long and somber, like she was going to a funeral. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. They would kill her in the old clothes, the clothes that she'd worn when she was a child, the clothes that she'd given up for cargo pants and combat boots.

Her cell of rebels was under attack. Many men had been killed to protect her. Now, it was up to Yuy and his men to protect everything that the rebels had been fighting for, which wasn't a lot. She'd left them with a description of the seal from the oracle, but that was only one trinket to go on. She couldn't die, she couldn't allow herself to be killed, or the cause of the rebels would die with her. She closed her eyes and swallowed deeply and imagined her Trowa standing in front of her. She imaged the first time she was able to feel emotions, the first time she realized that a simple kiss upon the lips was more beautiful than anything she'd ever felt. She couldn't let all of those memories, those emotions be lost, she had to keep fighting.

After being stuck in an Insensible jail for more than a week, she'd gotten used to their scheduled questioning and feedings. They were, of course, only accustomed to doing things methodically and mechanically, living by a code of perfection over chaos, coldness over emotion, war over love. Humans were not ever meant to live that way. Humans were flawed not flawless; humans were mistakes, beautiful, perfect mistakes. The mirror told her nothing other than her life was slowly creeping towards an end. Slowly and surely, she would find what the heavens had to offer. She knew that if she'd taken her dosage, this fear of death would not overcome her as it did now, her emotions would be free. Since her absence of the dosage, so many things reeled through her mind, and she felt free, weightless. She could see herself for whom she really was. She was naïve, listless, inhuman. Cold, set apart, angry, passionless, passionate, confused, juxtaposed, connected, together; she was every human emotion and none at all. Her green eyes, her brown hair, her chocolate skin, everything was open and freeing. She was frightened and self-righteous. A jolt on the door tore her mind away from the mirror. Her capturers wanted to speak with her.

"Miss Adelphia, how are you on this fine evening?" his eyes were black as unpolished diamonds, as was his hair. Yet his skin was ivory, not yellow as many of his Chinese heritage would have been. He wore a black coat, similar to that of a Jesuit priest's robes, but with a Mandarin collar and large black buttons down the front.

"Is it evening? I wouldn't know, you keep it so balled up in here," she responded sarcastically.

"Your sarcasm is not appreciated."

"Neither is your lack of emotion, Insensible."

"We've been through this Roddy. After seven days of heavy interrogation, threats to your life, sore lack of lighting, and even worse food, you still hold yourself in such high righteousness as to not refer to me by my name."

"Wufei, you are a traitor," Roddy said, almost spitting with venom and anger.

"A traitor, how adorable. Your adoration is touching."

"Who's being sarcastic now?"

"Oh Roddy, I merely saw the light. My emotions were killing me, making me chaotic. They make you chaotic as well. Wasn't it peaceful without them? Didn't you feel the quiet? Didn't you understand the calm? Wasn't it wonderful?"

"I don't want to remember. Even with the questions, the voices, the confusion, my mind reeling, I don't want to remember, I don't want to know."

"You and your rebels aren't happy," Wufei said walking behind Roddy, touching her neck. She shied away, curling herself more into the stone table. The room was too white to focus on anything but the contrasting black clothes that they both wore.

"How would you know? You have no emotions. You know not what happiness truly is." Wufei scowled and leaned in clothes, smelling Roddy's hair.

"Neither do you." Roddy turned around and pushed him away, he caught her wrist and slammed her, face forward, against the stone table. He leaned over her, the front of him pressed tightly against her backside, and pinned her there. She squirmed.

"When is my death sentence?" Roddy spat out angrily, trying to push away. Wufei smiled happily into her ear. He almost laughed.

"Death sentence? Oh no. A beautiful creature as you put to death, they wouldn't dare. No, you will be handed a worse fate. You see, they are making a stronger dosage, one that you only have to take once a month. You shall be the first test subject. Then, sweet creature, when you are truly sedated, we shall marry. It has been promised from the "Father."" She struggled against his ever fixed grip until he let her go and stepped away from her, but not before taking a strong whiff of her hair. He pushed her down to the ground; she refused to cry. She refused to let any Insensible see the sadness, the emotion that lay within her mind and heart. They understood nothing; they would carry out with the plan whether she pleaded or not. They were heartless, careless, one couldn't even call them humans, and they wanted to keep her alive, if you could call an emotionless life living.

Trowa, she believed the green-eyed man was named, showed her to a small room with a hard cot for a bed. He stood at the door, put his gun down and helped her get settled.

"I still don't quite understand," Jina said, looking around her sparse quarters. Trowa looked at her with bemusement.

"It is difficult, I am sure. I am sure your world is much more beautiful for the understanding of emotions. You seem so happy."

"Yeah." Jina simply nodded her head. She felt nothing but she couldn't allow this poor man in front of her to see her apprehension. He turned to leave, but she realized that she didn't want to be left alone in this place. It felt scarce and alone and she missed the comfort of her dark, city apartment.

"Trowa. Tell me, why do you fight this fight?" Jina asked and sat down on the cot, her eyes turned attentively towards Trowa. He looked at her, then down at the gun that he'd picked up, then out of the door. He sat down the gun once again, closed the door and leaned against it.

"When you stop the dosage the first thing you feel is scared. Not really scared, because there is protocol for when you stop your dosage. I stopped mine voluntarily one day. I was in the IOC, a pretty high-ranking officer, and she was my superior. She was so beautiful, so amazing, so strong and serene, graceful, but those emotions only tugged at my senses. The next day I stopped taking it, the dosage, so that I could understand what was happening. I felt love. I lusted for her, for her touch. Do you know what it is like to not understand what love is?" Trowa looked up at her as he felt her grab his hand.

"I'm afraid to tell you this, Trowa, but even without the dosage, you can never understand love."

"That's refreshing and wonderful," Trowa said gathering up his things and turning to leave the room.

"Who was she? The person you speak of, who is she?"

"The Rebel Queen, Roddy Adelphia," Trowa smiled bittersweet and left the room, shutting the door behind him subtly.

"So, you think it will work on her?" the blonde woman asked. Her dark eyebrows arched subtly above her almost pupil less blue eyes and she smirked evilly at the equally blonde doctor. His lab coat was white, a stark contrast to the Insensible uniform of pitch black sever robes.

"She is small, this dosage should take affect within a few hours. I'm not sure how sane it will keep her, however. She is quite strong emotionally. She hasn't had the dosage in almost a year, it could make her mentally a vegetable," the doctor looked over his glasses at the woman. He was severe in methods as he dropped random substances into a small vial, she watched only halfway interested in the process of making the dosage. She was only interested in the results. Her superiors had told he to make sure that the process was successful, and she would.

"Why does 'Father' want her to be put back on the dosage when he so clearly ordered the others to be executed for their crimes against the system?"

"Such things are classified, Dr. Winner. Your job is not to know, but to do."

"I was just asking, Ms. Catalonia. I would never pry where I need not pry," he said, looking back down at his vials and droppers. She walked behind him, staring over his shoulder. She could tell that this physically annoyed him, her staring, but she continued; his annoyance was irrelevant. She leaned in and whispered into his ear.

"When was the last time we sparred? Do you remember?" he nearly dropped his vial.

"I believe a month ago. You won. I still have the scar." She leaned in and he could feel her breath on his collar.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she said, touching the spot just under his right kidney. He shook, put down the vial and turned to look at her.

"Ms. Catalonia, I really must concentrate on the dosage. You want it to be successful?" he said, and she modestly removed her hand from his person. She walked over to the other side of the room, her heels clicking against the floor. Everything in the room was pristinely white, almost blinding, except for Ms. Catalonia's IOC uniform. Hers was different than most of the females in the IOC. She was a high-ranking officer in the Insensible Offenders Corp. and was allowed variations upon the theme of the uniform. Her skirt was shorter, her heels higher, and Dr Winner could almost see the outlines of black underwear underneath the tight black jacket. There was always something between he and Ms. Catalonia, ever since their sparring, a small flirtation had emerged. The only sound for moments was the click-clacker of her heels as she paced back and forth upon the floor. Dr. Winner still couldn't concentrate.

"Dr. Winner, when was the last time you denied yourself a dosage?"

"Voluntarily or for scientific reasons?" he hadn't even recognized it, but she'd snuck behind him and was leaning into his ear.

"Voluntarily," she whispered breathily. Shivers tingled his spine.

"Not in a couple of years. Not since out last real match, when I won."

"I believe we both won that match, Dr. Winner." The memory was still fresh of their passionate duel. Her scent wafting with the quickness of her foil, the clinks of the metal against the metal, and their sleek, graceful movements which looked like a pagan ritual. They were beautiful when they fought, especially when the dosage was denied, but they would never tell anyone. He felt her hands on his shoulders, pushing down the tense muscle that lay underneath the lab coat. He closed his eyes, slowly surrendering to the sense, the feelings that lay underneath the dosage.

It was almost noon; time for his next dosage, for the next implementation of the drug that would allow him to suppress his sensual nature. His head lolled back on his neck and she leaned in to smell him. He was woodsy and sensible, like the commissioned soap but something more passionate, more him. He smelled like a desert breeze, and she bit her lip. He turned and held her wrists as their eyes met burning.

"Dorothy, we are not heathens. We need to take our dosage before we make a big mistake." She was breathing heavily, as was he.

"Then lets make that mistake, Quatre" she responded. All he could do was watch her, her hair a bit mussed, her breast heaving underneath the heavy black jacket, her lip caught savagely between her teeth. They probably looked like animals deprived, hungry. This type of lust was forbidden. If they were caught between dosages, lustful and unrestrained, they could be put to death much like the rebels.

It was for this particular reason that Quatre Winner, the leading doctor on emotion hormone research, had been given the challenge of making a once a month dosage. He was on his last trial, a human trial, and Roddy was to be his first guinea pig. It had come to the IOC's and "Father's" attention that the reason why there were so many rebel outbursts was because of the three dosages a day system. There were times when even the strongest government official and rational citizen would slip and not take his dosage, having to suffer the hell of having feelings for the next three hours or so with their emotions nagging them. Some even believed that the emotions they were having were liberating, freeing, and became a rebel. It wasn't that simple. Usually the fight for emotions was just as violent as the fight against, much like Dorothy and Quatre were having at the moment. It was just known that a once a month dosage would be a lot stronger, therefore a lot better. Instead of controlling one's emotion for a few hours a day, they would be controlled for thirty days. It was ingenious. But now that genius needed to be put to the test. Quatre wanted to sedate himself. Around Dorothy there was no telling what he would do. Ever since that day they both voluntarily swore off their dosage and sparred, there was an undeniable tension that rose between them and they wanted to fulfill it like normal humans.

"We are traitorous."

"Yes, we are." Dorothy said, and leaned closer to just feel his breath upon her lips. He leaned in, but the noisy prisoner at the door stopped the. The guards held Roddy strongly, almost too strongly, Dorothy and Quatre quickly pulled away.

"Catalonia, I see you've taken my place."

"Well, if it isn't the old mistress of the IOC. I remember when you used to be my superior, now look at you."

"You will always be under me, Catalonia, no matter what position or rank we are in life. You are a dog, go fetch." Roddy spat out.

"I am a dog? Well, we'll see whose fetching for whom when this is all over," Dorothy looked at Quatre with knowing eyes. He took the vial filled with the dosage and put it into a needle gun. The guards held Roddy heavily; her wrists chafed against the heavy metal handcuffs.

"Quatre don't do this. You know it is wrong. You're a doctor. You've felt the freedom or emotion, why do you hide from it so?"

"Roddy, this is an administration of the EmzO² II, better know as the dosage "Emotionless." However, this drug has been heightened to control those that have been off the drug and subsequently for longer periods of time for those that have been on the drug. This is the first testing. I am not sure what the side affects will be, but I am sure that it is safe." Roddy was trying to pull away from her chains and the guards. She was trying to thrust towards Quatre so that he would drop the vial, anything to not have the dosage back in her system. He leaned forward, pressed the needle gun to her jugular and pushed down.

She could feel the dosage flow into her body quickly and burning. Her veins throbbed and tingled. She could feel the medicine run behind her eyes and into her brain, and she could feel it pool. Her head lolled back on her head and she screamed, curdling the ears of all in the room.

"Take her to a mental examination room. Keep her away from sharp objects. I want her on twenty-four observations, suicide watch. These results are important," Dorothy shouted to the guards as they dragged Roddy away.

"I will see you later, Mr. Winner. Keep me informed as to the results."

"The dosage should take effect within twenty-four hours, that's if she doesn't fight it. However, hormonally, she can't fight it. My hypotheses would be that there would be a small relapse for her, which will require a supplementary dosage. Other than that, she will be back to her old self. Heartless, soulless, and loveless."

"Excellent. I will inform Father."