Howdey, I'll be honest, I'm still way off my game. A lot is going on in my life at the minute and it's a lot, so if the quality isn't quite up to scratch I am very sorry, but we are getting there. This chapter is dark and bad things happen, but you guys are probably used to that from me by now. I hope you enjoy anyway, and I shall catch you at the end. -J


Chapter 28: Trust

Sophie was bored.

Don't get her wrong, she loved her job, but damn if it wasn't boring at times. If she was sent out on a mission, her main job was sitting around waiting; waiting for the agents to screw up or waiting for something unexpected to happen. Funnily enough, MI7 agents didn't mess up too often, and they tended to plan quite well for things, so really, her job was frequently redundant. Her other task, maintaining security at an MI7 facility, was also typically boring. At least with mission assignments, she got to travel, see the world a bit, on HQ assignments she was almost always in London. It was just as well, she supposed, since every time she went anywhere new she had to have a pissing contest with half the staff just to gain any level of respect. She liked it at London HQ, as most of the staff she worked with were the people she'd attended training with, so they knew she knew her shit, but aside from that it was just so boring.

She supposed she should be careful what she wished for.

Checking her gun for the millionth time that day, Soph rocked back in her chair; her feet up on the desk. Jenny rolled her eyes as she spoke on the phone to someone or other, well used to Sophie's antics after a week of having her at the desk across the room. The woman was scary on the phone, she managed to stay perfectly polite while verbally smacking down some idiot demanding an appointment. Sophie frequently thought back to her brief discussion with the woman back when Kelly had come back, and was glad that voice hadn't been used against her. It was kind of terrifying.

She had asked, early on, why Jenny had just let her talk to Cavallero without much of a fight, but the woman had smiled with surprising warmth.
"Kelly told me she was seeing someone before then, I figured you guys needed to sort something out." She shrugged and Soph had grinned. Jenny herself was engaged, getting married the following summer to Nate Carson. Soph might have looked him up in the system, a little illegally, to make sure he was good enough for the woman, and found in the records that both Kelly and Isabella (and a lot of the staff, actually) had done the same. Apparently Jenny was well loved, which was understandable, as when she was not being politely terrifying, she was incredibly sweet.

Her phone rang and broke her from her thoughts.
"Daniels." She tucked it between her shoulder and her ear as she pushed the magazine back in and checked the safety was on, tucking her gun away in its holster as a familiar voice reached her ear.
"Annabelle's back and we don't know what to do." She couldn't tell if it was Tania or Tara, but the other quickly chimed in.
"She's working here." She explained and Soph smirked to herself. The new school year was starting and Annabelle had spent the last year on the path to become a teacher. This term she was doing some work experience at the school under the guidance of Miss Dickenson (who was the only actual certified teacher at St. Trinian's). It made sense that they would be confused, as an ex-head girl of only a couple years ago, Annabelle still had a lot of love and respect from many of the current students, however, standard St. Trinian's practice was to test the mettle of any new teacher to walk through their doors. Sophie chuckled.
"Bring your A-game, she's a St. Trinian, the usual stuff won't even make a dent." She flashed a wicked grin to no-one in particular.
"Odds 100 to 1 you can't get so much as a flinch out of her." The challenge was obvious, but she could practically hear the girl's minds whirring as they began to formulate ideas. Soph's grin grew, delighted at both their enthusiasm, and the mild hell her dear cousin was in for. The daft woman had chosen St. Trinian's as a place to teach, she knew the risks when she made that choice.
"Thanks Soph, say hi to Kel 'for us." They spoke quickly, in a hurry to get to scheming, she was sure. Soph chuckled.
"Will do girls, good luck." She continued to grin to herself as she hung up and tossed her phone onto the desk.

As it landed, a tremor shook the building.

What the shit…?

Her earpiece buzzed as the line connected and she sat upright.
"Daniels!" Her direct boss, Harrison, spoke up and she was on her feet.
"At my post." She reported, he knew where she should be, but anyone listening in wouldn't.
"Good. Armed intruders on levels three and five, potential explosives at exits. Orders seven and fifteen." He spoke concisely, the background noise indicating he was already on the move. She nodded redundantly.
"Copy." She moved to her drawer and pulled out her spare mags, loading them into her pockets. She hesitated briefly, her hand over her phone, before grabbing it quickly and turning to Jenny.
"Intruders in the building, after you." She swept a hand toward the office door to her right and the woman leapt to her feet, typing quickly to initiate the necessary hard drive wipe. Soph turned to the lift door, tucking her phone into her pocket and drawing her handgun. Intruders on five, if that shudder was an explosion the lift would be out of commission, so either they would need to hack it to get it moving, giving her six minutes minimum, or they would need to take the stairs; seven minutes.
"Done." Jenny called from behind her and Soph began to move backward toward the office door, still watching the lift. No sign of it being powered back on so far; stairs it was.

They moved into Cavallero's office and Soph locked the door.
"Director." She gave a nod and the woman took the time to return it, already shutting down her own computer. She'd have been informed of the situation at the same time as Soph. She glanced at the time, five minutes left before they reached the floor. The doors were reinforced but if they had explosives… Eight minutes at most.

Moving to the bookcase, she pulled out a book and pressed a nondescript area of wood into the wall, starting the release for the hidden door behind it. The damn thing took bloody ages to open.

When the shelf finally slid to the side, revealing a small hatch and a ladder, Jenny hurried inside, starting the long climb to the bottom.
"Six?" Soph questioned, addressing her earpiece with her eyes on the window. No sign of anyone on the opposing building, not that she could see.
"Ready and waiting." Six reported back and Soph shot a confirming nod to Jenny as she vanished over the edge. Six would meet them at the bottom and escort them the rest of the way to the exit of the tunnel.
"Copy." She confirmed and Isabella hurried across the room to follow her secretary. A loud thud behind them signalled the arrival of their guests and Soph cursed under her breath.

They must have really bolted up the stairs.

Glancing back, she assessed the doors, reinforced or not, they were still just doors. It would hold against assault for a short while, but time was against them. She ushered Cavallero to the ladder and stepped back. Even climbing fast as all hell, it was a long way down, and they would need to be clear of that drop before anyone started trying to chase them down or a grenade drop could be a very nasty end for both of them.

Oh, fuck.

Gritting her teeth, she stepped back from the ladder.
"Raven is in position, go fast." She knew her expression would be grim, the woman met her gaze evenly with a nod. It wasn't of understanding, or confirmation that she'd heard, it was an acknowledgement of what Sophie was about to do.

Without another word, Soph moved back, slamming a hand to the door close button as she went and slipping back out into the office before the shelf could slide back into place. Nothing but silence came from outside, so they were probably setting a charge. Soph shucked out of her jacket with a sigh. This is what she got for complaining about being bored, wasn't it?
"Six, handing over to you." She rolled up the sleeves of her black dress shirt as she spoke. She wouldn't explain or say anymore, and Raven knew better than to ask, anyone could be listening.
"Copy." Still, the woman sounded sad and Soph manged a bitter smile as she kicked the desk over, preparing to duck down behind it,
"Going dark." She pulled her earpiece from her ear and tossed it, patting down her pockets for anything important as she crouched low behind the thick wood. Her phone sat heavy in her pocket and she considered it thoughtfully.

Why not?

She tapped out a quick text, smiling sadly to herself as she hit send.

Sorry
I love you

She probably should have thought of something wittier, but she was out of time, snapping her phone over the desk leg and tossing it to one side just in time for a concussive bang that blew out her hearing and slammed the desk into her shoulder. That'd be the door then.

Ears ringing, she propped herself up over the edge of the desk and began shooting. There was dust and shrapnel everywhere, but through it all she could see people, five of them. Two went down as she popped up unexpectedly, but the other three turned and quickly returned fire. She ducked back down, breathing carefully as her heart thundered in her chest, reloading quickly before popping back up once more. She caught one in the leg, clipped another's arm, but blinding pain seared through her shoulder and a hearty impact jolted her sideways, her gun arm swinging wildly. She fell behind the desk once more, cursing up a storm through grit teeth as she switched to her left. It felt wrong, and the gun was for use in the right hand, but it'd fucking do as she blindly fired over the wood. She had no idea how long she'd given them to climb down, but even if she fell, they'd have to find the damn door and get inside before they could make chase.

A hollow click warned her of her need to reload, but before she could, a figure leapt over the desk, an armoured knee driving hard into the side of her head. Everything was very dark after that.

She came to slowly. Her first thought was that she must have slept on her arm funny, as her shoulder throbbed angrily at her, but the moment she made to move it, the blinding pain sharply dragged her back into full awareness. Ah, fuck.

Keeping as still as possible, she assessed the situation. She was upright, and sat down, leaned up against a wall, by the feel of things. Her legs were free, at least, but her hands were secured by something... a zip tie maybe? So, that was mildly horrifying. It had been part of her training, of course, to prepare for the chance of being held captive. It hadn't been Sophie's favourite part, and she had needed to spend a good deal of time in extra sessions with the teacher, working through her personal issues with being restrained, before she could even begin the psychological training everyone else was going through to prepare for 'interrogation'. By the end of six months, she could just about handle it, but that was in a controlled environment, where a word from her would mean being cut loose. This, was not that. Her heart thundered in her ears and her hands felt icy cold as she struggled to recall what her instructor had told her. She needed to focus.

Focus on what you can feel. Aside from the sharp pressure of the ties around her wrists.

The cold floor beneath her, the rough wall at her back, the throbbing pain in her shoulder.

What you can smell.

Dust, blood, damp... Charming.

What you can hear.

Nothing much, distant sounds of life, footsteps and talking too far away for her to hear properly.

She had to remember, she wasn't a kid anymore; she'd been trained for this. Cable ties were easy, she could break out of them if she had to, but right now she needed to stay put, find out where she was, and what was happening. Only then could she make a plan.

Small victories, her heart rate slowed a little; her instructors would be proud, at least. Continuing to breathe slowly, she cracked open an eye. It was dark, some kind of room, and she was alone. Opening her eyes properly, she looked around. Her room was most certainly some kind of cell. The floor was stone slabs, and the walls were rock, cemented together haphazardly. She had no window, but a heavy-looking metal door sat immediately across from her, the barred window at around head height providing the only light. There was no glass in it, which explained why should could hear faint sounds of people, but it looked pretty damn secure otherwise. Great, she was actually 'captured'. Grim.

Her shoulder had been treated, the sleeve of her shirt had been cut away and a clean bandage covered it. She hoped it had been a through and through, or at least that they'd taken out the bullet, but she couldn't reach up to check it properly. Hope was all she could really do from here.

She was left alone in her cell for some time, how long, she couldn't really say, but eventually footsteps approached and loud jangle of keys reached her ears. Oh, here we go. There were three options for capture; tell them everything, stick to your cover, or say nothing at all.

'Tell them everything' was kind of frowned upon and generally considered to be some kind of treason, so that wasn't particularly attractive, and since she was captured while shooting at people, her cover didn't seem like it was going to fly, so 'nothing' it was. This route had the disadvantage of being the most infuriating for most captors, so she really, really hoped MI7 would get their ass in gear and come find her. She didn't want to have to put up with whatever hospitality she'd be receiving for much longer than she had to.

Two men stormed in and seized her, none too gently, under the arms, frog marching her down the corridor without much heed for her injury. Nice.

Being tossed into a chair was less fun than she'd like, and the man who sat across from her was even less of a party. He had the expression of a man who would stab you in the face before saying hello, so frankly, Sophie didn't have high hopes for this conversation.
"Good morning." It was hard to say if he was actually referring to the time of day or just being colourful; she'd only just met him. Still, she offered nothing but silence.
"I see you have had the same training as every other MI7 agent we have captured." He sighed, sitting back in his chair, an air of boredom heavy around him. She stared back impassively, but her mind was busy. How many had they caught? Surely she'd have heard about that… In fact, that was literally her job, she definitely would have. He was bluffing.
"Don't worry, we got them all talking in the end, I've got money on you being an easy one." He give a menacing smirk and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. His scare tactics were older than time. He, himself, was an older man, maybe in his late fifties. Brown hair streaked with grey and tied back in a neat ponytail, his beard was just as tidy, meticulously groomed, hell, even his eyebrows looked like they'd had work. He was dressed neutrally, no emblem or insignia she could use to decipher what group he was part of, just a plain back t-shirt under a black weatherproof jacket. Tidy, but practical. He didn't seem to be packing a gun, but a large knife sat in a sheath at his hip,and she was willing to bet good money it would be wickedly sharp.

A little more menacing and she was handed off to a delightful man named Victor, he was tall, bald, and was decidedly far too happy at the prospect of having someone to 'play with'. The cliché of the whimsical torturer aside, Soph had a bad feeling about this.

It occurred to her that she had actually been offered a position as an interrogator for a terrorist organisation, and she had to wonder if she'd have been any good at it. Maybe she'd have been more imaginative than this guy at least… After the sixth hour of hanging from the ceiling by her wrists being used as a punching bag, she was… Well, bored was probably the wrong word, given the relentless pain in both her wounded shoulder and every other part of her body.

At the end of the 'session' she was tossed, literally, into her cell, where she landed with a heavy thud and a groan. Lucky for her, noises of pain didn't count toward 'talking'. So when Victor had deliberately dug his thumb into her shoulder while saying goodbye, and she'd screamed loud enough to pop her own ears, she hadn't broken her rule.

This marked the start of a very unpleasant routine.

Every day, she would be woken up by having a bucket of water thrown over her, then she would be dragged off to Victor, who would engage in some deeply unimaginative method of trying to get her to talk, leave her hanging from the ceiling while he ate his lunch, then getting back to it until he clocked off for the evening. At this point, she'd be thrown back into her cell, occasionally falling on a lump of the worst bread she'd ever encountered (including the doorstops made when Taylor tried to take up baking) and chugging a jug of water she didn't want to look at too hard, before collapsing into her 'sleep corner'.

It would be really easy, she thought, to go nuts in this situation, and maybe she had. She almost felt as though she were watching it all happen from outside of her own body, sitting to one side while someone else was beaten bloody, someone else was water boarded, some other poor soul had to listen to Victor's cheerful whistling. She really, really, wanted to tell him that there were other songs in the world than 'Stayin' Alive', but four days in she hadn't given up yet so really, she didn't plan on giving him the satisfaction.

Eight days in, and she was still going strong, but honestly, having that song stuck in her head all day every day was more painful than water boarding, and that shit was pretty fucking unbearable. It wasn't the suffocation, which was horrifying and probably scarring, but it was the freezing cold water flooding her sinuses; it burned and stung in ways she never wanted to experience and frankly, it was almost enough to make her consider mouthing off so he'd knock her out or something. Compared to that, the probably broken, and certainly bruised, ribs and almost certainly tragic damage to her kidneys was a cake-walk. Or it would be… if she could still walk.

Day fourteen, it got worse.

"Victor. Any progress?" Beardy man was back, clearly expecting results, but Victor shrugged as he laid a nasty shot to her liver.
"Lotta screaming, not much else. Tough nut, this one." He turned to the bigger man with a huff. The boss frowned.
"You're going too easy." 'Boss' grunted and Victor folded his arms in an astonishingly childish pout.
"If you think you can do better." He grumbled and moved over to take his usual seat, tossing his feet up onto a table to eat his lunch. Beardy eyed her with that same stony determination he'd had the day they met. It made her uneasy then, it made her wish for Victor's repetitive drownings now.

He picked up a whip and her entire body flooded with ice. She wasn't watching from the side lines anymore, she could feel every nerve ending she had standing to attention, her skin crawling as a distant echo of pain long past. He moved behind her and there was the sound of cloth tearing as her shirt was split up the back.
"Oh, guess this explains it." The big man hummed in thought and Victor got up, sandwich in hand, to investigate.
"Not your first rodeo? Damn." He gave a low whistle, as if he was fucking impressed, and she grit her teeth hard. Her arms were already shaking from being suspended for so many hours, but a tremor set into her bones and she squeezed her eyes shut tight against it.

She wouldn't. Say. A. Goddamn. Word.

Panic thundered in her veins and dread writhed in her gut, she was either going to vomit or pass out, maybe both, but that didn't matter. Screw her dignity, they had her chained to a goddamn ceiling in clothes she'd been wearing for two weeks, Victor had seen her vomit up torrents of water and choke up blood more times than she wished to count. She'd screamed bloody murder and gasped for air like a dying fish, dignity was well beyond her reach at this point. So fuck it, she'd react to this however the fuck she wanted to. She'd cry and shake, probably scream and pass out, but fuck them and the goddamn horse they road in on, she would not say a word.

She did all of that and more. Honestly, she lost track. Pain, terror, psychological scarring, it all kind of blurred together over the next week or so. She stopped eating at all, didn't drink water from her jug, though enough of that was forced down her during her sessions with Victor to keep her ticking and peeing blood, so that was nice. Once tossed in on her face, Soph just let the darkness take her, not even moving from the spot she'd been thrown on, to fall into blissful sleep.

It was the only place where things didn't hurt, at least not physically. Every dream was the same, but the brief moments of peace they provided were like ice on a blistering burn.

"I am coming to find you, you know?" Kelly's voice was soft in her ear, the warm arms around her pulling her tight to the woman's chest.
"I know." Her own voice sounded weird to her, she hadn't heard it as actual words in so long.

"You just need to hold on a little longer, then I'll be there." The promise came with lips pressed to her hair and Soph burrowed deeper into the embrace, eyes shut tight against the world.
"I will." It felt like an oath.

She knew it wasn't real, it was just a dream her mind invented to keep her from falling to pieces completely. However, that didn't matter. In her gut she knew, she knew Kelly would be looking for her, and she would find her eventually, no matter what it took. Sophie just needed to stay alive, keep going, keep surviving. A little longer, just a little longer. She didn't believe in a higher power, she didn't even really think that MI7 would much care if she never came back, but she knew Kelly. Nothing would stop that woman from bringing her home. Sophie just had to try and make sure there was a piece of her left when she did.

With that resolve every morning, she grit her teeth and bore whatever the day would bring. Kelly was coming. She just had to hold on.


Sophie is having a bad time, but her faith is cute, isn't it? I guess we'll see if it's well placed or not.

This chapter is kinda weird, because dissociation is hard to write, but I hope you all enjoyed it, and I hope to see you all again next week - J