Memento Mori
A Selection of shorts and unrelated one-shots. Mostly stuff that comes to my head while watching the show or things I think should have happened. Things I would like to see. Jane Centric, but there will be shorts about the other characters as well.
Hey guys, next one-shot is up. Hope you enjoy. This idea was suggested to me by Crow. About what happened when Jane first arrived at the blacksite. It is something I would be really interested in seeing something about it in the show as they have kinda glazed over the whole, three months torture thing.
Hope you enjoy.
PS: If you like my writing, I would really appropriate it if you take some time to tell me what you think about my original story that I have put up on WatPad. I cant post the link there, but I am under the same pen-name. :)
Anyway, hope you enjoy.
More to come.
The Agent of Ruin or Woe.
Jane's thoughts as Kurt arrests her.
The moment she felt the click of the handcuffs against her wrists, she knew in an instant that her life was over. That no amount of pleading or explaining was going to change his mind. Her tears stung her bruised and beaten cheeks, her body screaming in pain as he pulled her to her feet. His breath reeked of bourbon.
They waited for a prisoner escort van, seconds slowly crawling to minuets as a tense silence fell between them. She sat, her back against the wall as he slouched in the chair by the door, his right hand holding his gun tightly in his lap while the other held the dirty doll he dug from a friend's grave.
"Kurt you have to listen to me." She pleaded. "You don't understand. I-" The words got trapped in her throat the moment she saw the flashing red and blue lights outside her window. He got to his feet and moved to the door. Not once looking in her direction.
The ride to FBI headquarters was quiet and tense. The metal around her wrists seeming to freeze her skin as it clinked against the metal seat she sat on.
When they arrived at HQ, Kurt said nothing as he pushed her into one of the interrogation rooms, the same one she had been in right after this had all started. Her hands were cuffed to the table and as he turned to leave, she called out to him.
Her cries fell on deaf ears as the door locked behind him.
There she sat, her body aching, her cheek still throbbing from the cut just under her eye. She still smelt like sweat and fire and she still had Oscars blood on her hands, caking on her palms and staining the skin under her fingernails.
Her mind was racing. Everything Oscar had told her. It couldn't have been true. Could it?
Looking around the white room, she fought the urge to scream. Fought the urge to swear and cry until her throat was raw. Everything she thought she was, everything she believed she had been was nothing but a cruel lie. An elaborate scheme of her own making.
She wasn't Taylor Shaw. She never was.
She was back at square one.
With no identity and absolutely no memory of who or what she was.
When the door clicked, and opened, she looked up, expecting the see Kurt, or Director Pellington. What she did not expect however, was to see two men clad in black suits and a slightly smaller, scruffy looking man enter the room.
"Who are you?" She asked, a tinge of fear rising in her chest as the two men wordlessly approached her, un-cuffing her restraints from the table, only to roughly twist her arms behind her back, cuffing her again.
"What's going on?" She asked. Turning to the scruffy looking man. He seemed to be the one in charge. He turned his cold eyes towards her, picking something from his nails and kissing his teeth.
She felt eyes on her back as they lead her towards the elevator, strong hands with bruising grips holding her arms as they pushed her towards the exit. Kurt sat in his office, his eyes cast down. She called to him. Crying his name as she struggled against her captor's grips. Again, he did not look at her.
She briefly saw Director Pellington speaking with the scruffy man before the elevator doors closed, leaving her alone with the brutes in suits.
The moment they arrived at the underground garage, she felt a scratchy bag roughly placed over her head. She felt herself being lifted into another truck, felt more chains clap around her wrists and feet then felt movement as it pulled away from the FBI.
It was eight and a half hours before she felt the van come to a complete standstill. She heard the doors open, felt herself being roughly pulled to her feet, then stumbled down what seemed to be a wooden staircase. Little did she know; it would be a little over three months before she saw daylight again.
When the bag was torn from her head, hard white light instantly burned her retinas , blinding pain momentary running its cruel claws down her skull. She couldn't stop herself from falling to the hard concrete floor as she was pushed forward, her shoulder connecting with the dirty brick so hard, she heard it pop. Crying out, her vision swam, the sound of the door slamming shut seeming to be so far away. Getting shakily to her feet she frantically searched her cell. Windowless, barely big enough to lay down in, dirty and it smelt like something had died in here. Maybe something had.
The scruffy man stood on the other side of the door, staring at her through a small rectangular wire mesh hole.
"Make yourself at home Jane." He taunted. "This is where you are going to spend the rest of your life."
"You can't just leave me in here chained up like an animal." Jane shouted moving towards the door. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder "I didn't even get charged with anything. I didn't have a trial. Where are my rights!"
The scruffy man chuckled. It was a cruel evil sound. It sent shivers down Jane's spine.
"To have rights Jane…you first need to be a somebody." His voice was low and mocking as he spoke. "You don't have a passport, a birth certificate…a social security number. Under the laws of this country, you don't exist Jane. You don't get rights…you're a nobody."
His footsteps echoed as he walked away and Jane let out a strangled cry as she kicked the door. Finally realising what was happening, where she was. Finally realising that no matter what she did, no matter what she said. This was going to be where she would spend her last moments.
They had sent her to hell. Her team. Her friends. Her family. Kurt. He had sent her here, sent her to suffer, sent her die.
And maybe she deserved it.
Still…
It hurt like hell to think about it.
She cried herself to sleep that night.
It only be a matter of days before she realised crying herself to sleep only made matters worse.
It would only take a week for her to attempt her first escape. It would end with her fingers being smashed with a hammer.
It would be a little over three weeks before they accidentally kill her. (The first time.) Keaton would turn the voltage up a little too high and her heart would simply stop.
It would be exactly forty-five days before she started seeing the scared man in her dreams. Telling her to hold on. Telling her to fight. She didn't know who he was, but he seemed important.
Two months in. She would become numb to anything they tried to do to her. They had already done it all. She would stop fantasising about her team bursting through the door and coming to her rescue. She would stop crying out when they hit her, stop struggling when they drowned her.
In-fact, she would stop making any sound what so ever.
She would simply…exist.
But she would not die.
She would not die in this dirty cell. If her life was going to end…it would be on her own terms.
So, she waited, she watched. There is always a way out.
And by god was she going to find it.
Hope you enjoyed. Please tell me what you think and again, if you notice any errors such as spelling or grammar please tell me. :)
Next chapter up soon!
