отказ

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I miss her. God, how much do I miss her.
I've been sitting here for two days. At least I believe it to be two days. I haven't seen any daylight ever since they tore me out of that container and brought me here, into this house. How long ago was that? One and a half weeks? Or two? I can't tell, I really can't.

They're messing with my head. They've given me drugs that made me hallucinate.

I saw Audrey. Like she was here. She was so damn real.

All I did for the past two days was to tell myself that she is dead. She is not here. These are the drugs. This is the loneliness. These are just hallucinations. And they are using them to torture me. I am my worst enemy.

But a small part of my brain won't let loose. It keeps telling me that this was no trick, and no hallucination. It keeps telling me that she is here, and that the things that she said to me were real, that feeling her touch was real and not just an imagination.
It's hard to believe.

I feel the cold stone wall behind my back, even through the blanket that I pulled around my shoulders. It's hard to believe that Audrey is here too, probably doing the same in a cold cell somewhere around here. That she's pulling a blanket around her shoulders, hoping to make this life at least bearable for a few hours, until they get her out of there again, putting her at their mercy.

I refuse to believe it.
I just can't. Thinking about her, sitting here, somewhere... it makes me angry. It awakens powers within me that I already lost over the course of the past months.

Ten years ago, I sat in such a cell. I did exactly the same. I tried to make it through the night and the following day. Back then I only had that picture of her on my mind: seeing her wait for me, the only wish was to survive and get back to her.
I never thought of her being there as well.
I pictured her at home, waiting for me, or probably not wasting her life waiting for me, spending it with someone else. Even that would've been okay.

I wished that I could hope for that now.
I have nothing that keeps me going.
I have nobody to return to. Worse: I can't even tell myself that I'm here to keep her safe. I'm here for nothing. She's dead. The only thing I can do is pay for my sins to see her in heaven. I've become a useless creature. My life has become a useless one without any person on this earth any more who I really care about.

Why won't my mind let loose?

I almost feel like on the day when I found out that she had been in China as well. What would I've done ten years ago, knowing that she was trapped there with me, all the time?
I would have freaked out, I'm sure. I would have told them everything. It would have awakened powers within me that would have made me try harder to get out. To get us out. I would have found a way, probably. Giving in to them, talking to them would have given me a chance to recover from what they'd done to me. I would have found a glitch in their security detail to use. Knowing that Audrey was there, too, would have made me try harder. I would have overstepped boundaries, I would have given everything, even sold out my country.

Realization is a downer.
Would I have really sold out my country?

Of course, I would have. She's worth more to me than pride or justice. Much more. I can't see her suffer. There are others who can take care about national security. She's worth more to me than that.
When Tony went to prison for saving Michelle, years ago, everyone judged him. Everyone but me. Back then, I only remembered how close I had once been to murdering David Palmer, just because they'd kidnapped my wife. I could perfectly understand Tony, even though I never told him. I tried to defend him, but there's no defense for selling out national security to save a loved one.

You don't need a defense.
You take the blame and you're just happy that you did what you did. Because there's nothing worse than watching a loved one suffer or die.

And that's why these ten fuckin' percent of my brain that keep telling me that she's alive and here make me go crazy. Even if the chances are little - if they are only 0.1 percent - the sole thought of her being here is worse than everything else.

I look around in my cell. Three walls are made of solid concrete. There is no window. The third wall is made of heavy iron bars. Behind the bars there's the corridor, also a windowless hall made of concrete. Some of the bars can be opened, as a door. The lock is heavy. No way to pick it. I don't have anything here anyway that I could use.
There seem to be more cells on this hallway, right and left to mine, but either they're empty, or the people in there are just as silent as I am.

I have no chance to get out of here.

What would I've done ten years ago, in the same situation, had I known that Audrey was here, too?

Probably I would have shouted and screamed until a guard would have come. I would have told him that I'm willing to answer their questions, in return for medical treatment. I would have acted sick until they would have started to care - not to kill their only source of information inadvertently. Acting weak would have loosened their security perimeter eventually. Giving me a chance to escape.

I let out a deep sigh.
That plan is of no use now.
They don't want any information from me. They never asked a single question. And I have nothing to tell.

I have to think of a different plan. What do I have that they want from me?
Nothing, probably.

No, don't think like that. They bought me. They paid a lot of money and they took a real effort to bring me here. There's gotta be something that they want to get out of this, I just haven't found out yet.

I pull the blanket closer. It's damn cold here, it's getting colder every other day.
At least I have enough time to think about what they could possibly want from me.

Sitting there for hours, I find no answer.

I strive against the only possible solution that comes to my mind: That Audrey is here. That they have bought me to make her tell them everything they want to know. She knows a lot, I'm sure. She's the first daughter, her father's closest relative, the wife of the White House chief of staff, she probably knows things that she's not even allowed to know. She's not giving in to them, no matter how long they keep her here. But she won't stand watching me suffer.

Damn it, why am I using present tense?
This is just a fantasy. My mind keeps towing loose ends together, making a credible story out of the few speculations, hallucinations and facts that I have at hand.
She's dead. She's not here. Not even if that all makes sense.

I'm sitting there for two more hours, until someone comes along the hallway.

I hoped it would be Audrey, but of course it's not her. Three guards come, to me. Two of them hold me while the third one rips my shirt off. Nothing good is about to come. They cuff my arms and tear me along to the interrogation room, where they force me to get down on my knees.

I do what they say. I don't fight back, there's no sense in it.

I kneel there, my eyes closed, listening to their voices. I don't understand a single word. I understood some of the Russian words, but here - none.
How long are they gonna keep me here? One more week? Two? Three?
The Sengalans had me for four weeks, before they sent me back to Russia. I guess that they have a similar agreement with the Chinese. I'm not gonna stay here forever, and that gives me some hope. No matter how hard they're gonna treat me today or tomorrow or whenever, I will survive, and I'll get the chance to recover again.
I'm living from each day to the next, hoping that it will bring no pain.

That wish is not gonna be fulfilled today, I know. My hands are in chains, I'm kneeling in the middle of the room, the shackles are tied to a massive chain that hangs from the ceiling. Looks like it's gonna get bloody today. The guards are wearing gloves. One of them even a plastic apron like a butcher. My upper body is naked, there's gotta be a reason for that. Lashes? Probably. Electrocution? Probably. Acid, fire, red-hot metal sticks? Probably. More drugs? Most likely. The only thing I can rule out is waterboarding. They would have put me on the table for that.

Now there are different voices.
When someone touches my arm, I rip my eyes open again.
It's the Chinese Burke, he injects something into my arm.

I wait for the pain to set in.

But it doesn't. Instead, a wave of numb and tiredness and relaxation sweeps over me.

Heroin.
I would never forget how this feels like.
He really gave me heroin. Not a big dose, but it serves its purpose.

They want me to be able to take more of whatever is about to come.

Even more voices enter the room.
I weakly and slowly turn my head around to look- couldn't have done it any faster anyway. The high is worst within the first few minutes, I feel totally zonked right now.

They're bringing someone in here.

Audrey.

This can't be real. This can't be happening. That must be the drugs.

Her hands are cuffed behind her back, as they force her to sit down on the other side of the room, facing me.

For a second, our eyes meet.

Is it really not true?
That view of seeing her over there sends ice cold shivers down my back. This can't be happening. It can't.

The ten percent of my brain that told me she's alive, they're screaming loud right now inside my head, saying I told you. I still refuse to believe this. But it becomes harder to deny with every second.

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