AN: Dollars common is a reference to the common dollar used by the Empire. Other forms of money may be used locally, but 'common' is used everywhere in the galaxy.
AN2: Alright isn't a word. I just found that out like two days ago. My spell checker on Word never caught it. Stupid Word! smacks it with frying pan of death (tm) Props to Allison for once again helping me stay on course with the English language, which of course, is the only language I have... (And of course, thanks to everyone else who reviews too, lol).
He got her a cup of coffee, and brought it to her along with a bottle of scotch. She groaned when he poured it into the dark liquid, her head in her hands as she battled the horrible headache she was experiencing.
"I don't drink anymore, Conte. I gave it up. I didn't know that was what you meant by 'Irish coffee'."
He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Jack, you're going to drink this coffee and you're going to drink it with scotch in it. You're going to take the aspirin and the other pills I'm going to give you with it. I know that it's going to be hard for you to break some of the thought processes you've picked up over the past six weeks, but you are going to do it. I know you feel horrible, but you're already getting better, trust me."
She hesitated a moment longer, and Conte smirked at her. "Too chicken for a little booze, Jackie?" he teased.
"Okay, okay, I'll drink it," she relented, accepting the cream colored coffee mug from him and beginning the process of blowing on the scalding hot liquid, and then sipping it. As usual, she wasn't careful enough and immediately burned her tongue. "Is hot," she said, trying to stick out her tongue and speak at the same time.
Conte chuckled, never taking his eyes off of her. "Yeah, well it's coffee. Most people like it hot."
"Smart ash." She smiled back as best she could while fanning the end of her tongue with one hand, so he'd know she wasn't really mad. "Think I'll just let it cool for a minute," she said, after a pulling her burnt tongue back into her mouth. She redoubled her efforts to lower the liquid's temperature by blowing on the surface.
"Take as long as you want, as long as you drink it all. And while you do that, I'm going to work out. That cool?" he asked, cocking one eyebrow as he continued to tease her.
She nodded, waving one hand in a very stately fashion as if to say, 'You have my permission to proceed'.
Dom got up, walking over to his bed and picking it up, leaning it up against the far wall. While she watched he began his daily regimen of sit-ups, pushups, and basic martial arts drills and exercises. He'd been holding a one-handed handstand for a full three minutes when she finally attempted to speak to him again.
"Um, Dom? You said something about aspirin?"
He pointed towards the small end table on one end of the couch with his free hand. "Right there, Jack."
She picked up the assortment of pills that he'd placed there for her, and ended up swallowing them in three sets of two, draining her coffee in the process. When she was done she set down the mug and laid back down on her side, pulling the blanket around her and letting her head rest on a pillow. For a long time she just studied the meditation-like state that her new protector had assumed. She giggled a little. Strange that he did that while upside down.
And how exactly was he holding that exact position for so long? Sure, he had a freaking load of muscle mass, far more than she'd ever seen on a guy his age, but it was neither straining nor bulging to hold him upright. He simply was. It looked almost as natural as standing or sitting for him.
"How're you doing that, Conte?" she asked quietly, glad that it already seemed her headache was fading a little bit. The throbbing was starting to dull, if only slightly.
He opened his eyes, and for the first time since she'd woken up she realized he wasn't wearing sunglasses. He did indeed have a set of gorgeous ocean blue eyes. If they hadn't been so bloodshot at the moment, she would've immediately dubbed them the most beautiful she'd ever seen...
Second most beautiful, Jack. You have a pretty big soft spot for silver, remember?
"It's a thing I learned while I was in solitary confinement in Juvy Slam. Later I learned that it has a name. Lot o' people call it Onyshem. Some old Asian guy who lived dozens and dozens of years ago came up with this theory that people, especially people who aren't strictly human, have the mental capacities for at least partial control of all their working systems during periods of deep concentration. That includes heartbeat, breathing, hormone release, and smooth and skeletal muscles. In Juvy, it didn't take them long to figure out I'm an aquaphobiac. Scared to death of drowning. Sometimes as punishment, when I would get into trouble, they'd seal me in a tank of water or loc gel with only a hose to suck on to stay alive."
"That's horrible," Jack whispered, her brow furrowing slightly upon learning how badly they'd treated him.
Conte sighed, shifting his weight to the other arm before continuing, "Yeah, well anyway, the first time they did it, I was about eight. They chained my ankles to the bottom of the tank, then filled it up with water. I froze up, almost went into cardiac arrest after the water went over my head. You'd think they would've taken me out then, just thrown me into the regular solitary cell instead. But they didn't. They left me in there for nine hours. To me it seemed like a week. But, by the end of that first day, I'd started to learn how to slow down my breathing, slow down my heart. By the fourth or fifth time they did it I could almost put myself in a coma before the water reached my knees."
"Why didn't you report them when you got out?" Jack asked, concern lining her face. She instantly realized what a stupid question that was and lightly thumped herself on the head with the heel of her palm. "Duh, what am I thinking. I should know better than to ask that. Seriously, who would've believed you?"
"Well, apparently you do," he snickered. Had he ever actually told anyone about those times he got turned into a fish in a barrel for the warden's amusement?
Nope, you didn't. You never told anyone that you wouldn't have been up for parole until you were twenty-one either. Think she'd still feel bad for ya if she knew that juicy detail?
"So, about that...stuff...that was in my electrolyte drink. What exactly was it?" Jack asked at last, her curiosity finally overwhelming her feeling of being ill.
Conte lowered himself to the floor with the strength and grace of a gymnast. Considering his height and weight, and all the things she'd already seen him do in spite of it, Jack was beginning to wonder if maybe Dom was stronger than Riddick. With that thought a shiver ran down her spine, but she immediately scolded herself for it.
Just because he's big and he can probably bench a house doesn't mean he's quick. You should know that, Jack.
He took up the position of sitting cross-legged on the cool steel surface, just as he'd been when she'd first seen him that...er, morning. Evening. Whatever part of the day it really was outside.
"Sure you're ready for this? It's pretty intense," he warned gently.
Jack nodded, sitting up as well, blanket still wrapped around her body to ward off the chills. "I'm ready. Give me what you've got."
Her returning tenacity yet again twisted a smile out of him.
You have no idea how much I would enjoy doing just that, babe. And maybe sometime, I will...
"I'm not surprised that you've never heard of Seka. It's a relatively new product, and groups within the Empire have gone to unprecedented lengths to keep the fact that it even exists away from the general public. People have died trying to reveal what this stuff is, and what it's being used for."
Jack leaned forward, propping her jaw up on one hand. "What is it used for? And how do you know so much about it?" she asked, her words a bit garbled because her mouth was partially covered by her palm. Her dull stare was a bit unnerving, but at least the color was returning to her cheeks.
Dom tipped his chair back, taking a long draw from the bottle of scotch he'd used to 'Irish' up Jack's coffee. "It's used by the military, non-human detaining facilities, and at all the numbered slammers. I'm sub-species human, a trouble maker, and I've spent an awful lot of time in Slam. They tried to use it on me when I did a three week stint in Slammer Nine a little over two years ago, when they were first introducing it. But my metabolism was too fast for it. My body would break it down before it could take effect on me."
"How did you know it didn't take effect on you? I didn't know it was affecting me," Jack said. The look on her face still skeptical. The effects of the drug were still apparent in that sense. Normally she probably would've been flying off the handle at this point, upon finding out that she'd been drugged.
Conte shrugged, spreading his arms in a 'you tell me' type of motion. "I could smell it in the water they gave us, that's how I knew it was in your sport's drink. It tastes a little bit sweet, so Hydrite was a far better fluid to hide it in than water. But yes, I was taking it, I had no choice. How did I know it wasn't working on me? I kept getting beat up by the guards, that's how I knew. Seka is used to brainwash people. Brainwash them to be snitches, to quit fighting with their cellmates, to kill, etcetera. Pretty much whatever you want that person to do, if you expose them to it enough while giving them a consistent dosage, they'll do it. It makes you become something between a spunge and silly putty. Absorbing everything, able to be shaped into anything."
"What if the person stopped using it?" Jack asked, still a little slow on the uptake of this huge new concept.
Conte chuckled deep in his chest, picking at the label on the scotch bottle. "They don't stop using it, Jack. Why do you think you're so sick right now? You've only been on it for a limited period and you're already experiencing a pretty nasty withdrawal now that you've been off of it for most of twenty four hours. It's probably one of the most addictive substance known to man. Here, have a drink," he advised, handing her the bottle.
Jack eyed it, still not sure if it was the appropriate time or place. "I don't know if that's..."
"There aren't gonna be many times in your life when it'll be good for you to get shit faced, Jack. But this is one of those times. Seka dissolves in water, alcohol dehydrates you. The scotch'll help flush it out of your system faster, in a manner of speaking. Drink and you'll be feeling almost like new in forty five minutes, an hour tops. I gave you a detoxification substance that'll help with the withdrawal symptoms, but it'll probably be a few days until you're really up to snuff."
"Any permanent effects?" she questioned, taking a big, long drink of the liquid gold.
It took Dom a moment to answer, he was too busy studying her face for any sign of flinching from the harsh taste. "Someone taught you how to drink," he stated rhetorically, finding the fact rather impressive.
Wonder if it was Riddick...
Jack cocked an eyebrow almost coyly, again raising the glass bottle to her lips. "Yeah, somebody did," she came back smoothly, taking another hard shot without batting an eye.
Conte's eyes glazed a bit as he laced his fingers behind his head, a cheesy grin spreading across his face as he tipped a bit farther back in his chair.
Damn. That's kinda sexy. Girl must have steel lining in her throat. Bet she'd be real good at...
Snap out of it, he reminded himself sharply, shaking away the thoughts he'd have to save until he was alone. The cheesy grin remained, however.
"So, no permanent effects, right?" Jack asked again, bringing him the rest of the way back to reality.
The grin finally faded, just a little. "Ah, well, not technically. Rumor has it that once you get on it you'll always have moments when you feel a little...off. Certain places, smells, sounds, etc bring it all rushing back. It's like having a little bit of a split personality. From what I've heard, it's mostly just sensations once you're off it, but while you're on it there's a definite correlation between all those things and behavior exhibited by the individual."
Jack snapped her fingers, memories suddenly rushing back to her, triggered by this new information. Things made sooo much more sense now. "That's why Rick went all psycho when we got back to the house. That's where the crack ho's been brainwashing him. While he was at the port, he didn't have a bottle with him. He must've been off it for a while and the effects weren't as bad cause he wasn't in a place where people have been stuffing his brain with shit. I've got to get him off it too, Dom. I've just got to. You have no idea how much he means to me..."
Conte slowly got to his feet, pacing across the small living area that made up the majority of his ship. "There's just one more thing, Jackie, one more thing you've got to know. Well, actually there's two things. I'll help you if you want to try to get Mr. Costello off the Seka. I'll do everything I can. But right now I'm under the impression that he's been on it for quite a while. Years, even. It's going to be a lot harder for him than it was for you. Seka prevents the production of some chemicals that are essential for the brain to function and takes their place essentially, that's how the brainwashing process works. If you take him off it, he might not be able to adjust, to start producing those chemicals again after so long. It could cause him to slip into a coma and eventually die. It's not an overwhelming chance, but after two years or longer, it's probably upwards of a thirty percent..."
"It doesn't matter," Jack put in quickly, cutting him off. "Believe me, I know Rick a hell of a lot better than anyone else ever has, and if he knew that they'd done this to him, he'd rather be dead."
Dom nodded, a new appreciation dawning within him for the strength this girl possessed in spite of her small body. "All right. Then we'll do it. The only other thing you have to worry about, now, is figuring out just how the fuck 'the crack ho' is able to afford a chemical substance that costs up to twenty thousand dollars common per ounce. And more importantly, where the hell she dug up a dealer."
Jack smiled, feeling a hell of a lot better than she had for a long time. Physically, she was still swimming in shit, but the emotional relief almost made up for that. Things WERE going to get better.
"Oh trust me," she assured him, lazily bringing the bottle of scotch back to her lips. "When I get done with 'Shella', none of that's going to matter. Cause when this is all over I'm gonna have Rick back, and that little fucking bitch is going to be very, very dead. She thought she could fuck with Jack B. Badd, and I'm going to make sure it'll be the last mistake she'll ever fucking make." Jack winked at him before chugging down the last of the amber liquid and slamming the bottle down on the table beside her.
The fire in her eyes was burning brighter than it had since she'd left New Mecca. And soon everyone one would know that Jack was back.
