Part 12
"She looks...uninjured, all things considered." A medical staff member spoke as Kendall pointed in their direction, and they went back to taking notes on a clipboard after giving the brief answer.
The Brit on the screen continued asking questions, some of which Sydney answered while others she refused by staying silent. Kendall pointed to another set of doctors on the opposite side of the table, one finishing up a sentence in an unreadable scrawl before speaking, "he's clearly done his homework. Agent Bristow is easily manipulated because of her emotional connection to others. Infractions in both her SD-6 and CIA records show multiple instances where she threw training to the wayside when becoming emotionally compromised. He has access to at least the Alliance's information, but with this possible mole he may have our files as well."
"Is she okay psychologically?" Someone at the table asked, nameless to the group standing in the back of the room.
"Agent Bristow is as okay as she can be. I mean, he's affecting her with whatever that device is and then reinforcing the physical trauma with recounting painful suggestions and memories. Her profile suggests that this would be the easiest way to break her for information. If he hits her with more of this, she's not going to stand much of a chance."
"It'll take more than that to break her," Jack growled from the back of the room, all eyes turning in his direction. "Despite the - ethics surrounding it, I subjected Sydney to Project Christmas when she was a little girl. Whatever you may think of me now, the purpose of the program was to hardwire them against brainwashing. It will take longer for him to break her, longer than he thinks. She can handle much more, but we need to keep looking for an extraction solution." Vaughn knew Jack well enough to know when he was frustrated, most of his experience having the frustration pointed in his direction. Right now, Jack was frustrated, but he was also furious.
Michael was mad too. This room of people suddenly came together to analyze Sydney during this public interrogation, but where were they before? Where were they when her hand gripped his at the pier after her father stood her up for dinner? Where were they to see the panic on her face when he'd told her of that same man being compromised in Havana, or the time Will was kidnapped, or the time when Marshall was taken? Where were they then when her eyes filled with tears and he had to comfort her in the dank confines of that hidden warehouse as they shared their sorrow learning the truth of her mother? These people didn't know anything about Sydney Bristow other than the fact that she got caught. Who were they to analyze anything about her?
The room went silent though the man in the projection kept talking. He once again set a hand on her shoulder as he read from a file, a psychologist pointing, "look there, her face. Every time he touches her it sets off that machine, but each time she's had less and less of a reaction. She's compartmentalizing everything well, I think."
"She looks pissed," Will said from his spot in the back, Vaughn nodding in agreement. While the doctors and everyone else focused on her reaction, what they could glean of body language, and compartmentalization, the pair of them were looking into her eyes, which were nearly black. The purse of her lips was a thin line as the muscle of her jaw flexed with each deep breath she took through flared nostrils. She was furious, and the two men that knew her best noticed it together.
Much to their surprise, the psychologist countered his assessment. "I don't think so, Mr. Tippen. It seems like she's trying to control her emotions and not appear weak."
"You don't even know her-" Vaughn started, Will grabbing his arm and cutting him off.
"You were sent to analyze what you see, but I've known Sydney for almost five years. I mean, I live with her. I have no doubt that she's...hiding her emotions, but...she's pissed. Trust me," he growled taking a breath before continuing. "Don't sit here and think of her as some poor damsel in distress. There's a reason this guy has her tied with cables to a welded metal chair. I know it, a few of you in here knows it, and that guy - that son of a bitch - he knows it too. Given half the chance she could kill him with her pinky."
"Mr. Tippen, you're here because your knowledge is valuable, but if you can't control yourself while watching you'll get your information from printed reports outside this room, capisce?" Kendall fired back and the room fell silent.
The reporter-turned analyst held his hands up in apology leaning back against the wall. Vaughn patted his shoulder, green eyes meeting blue, and Will saw how thankful the agent was that he'd spoken up. While Vaughn knew the same things Will did, he wasn't allowed to admit his closeness to Sydney, especially to the people in this room. Though, perhaps it didn't matter any longer.
…
Flynn's voice was getting on her nerves. It had been hours of questions, stories, answers, and his hands making contact with her charged, sensitive skin. Her muscles were sore from being on edge for so long, the tension of each caress, the flinch of each emotional barb wearing her down little by little.
Though she was nowhere near breaking, she wasn't sure how many more days of this she could take before snapping and going full, as Francie would put it, sarcasti-bitch. Or maybe she'd just start honestly answering every question he asked. It would probably be a mix of the two to keep him guessing if what she was saying was true or just a retort trying to throw some kink into his routine.
"Did you know Noah Hicks? It says here that you worked together for a little while," he paused looking back at the file, "seven years ago."
She couldn't keep her glare from meeting his steady blue stare and he grinned. "Ooh, did I hit another nerve? I knew Noah quite well - he never mentioned you though. We worked together in Shanghai about a year ago, actually, torturing this Yakuza for stepping into some of our production business. He was a top-quality assassin, best in the field."
Flynn tossed the file back onto the table and made his way to her side. "How intimate was your relationship with him, Sydney? With that assassin," he asked dragging a finger from her elbow up to her shoulder and keeping it sweeping in a slow, monotonous circle as she grimaced, the muscles of her arm tensing.
"Or did you even know?" He slid his finger up her neck to the sensitive spot just behind her ear, her hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail leaving a few tendrils around her shoulders. She tried pulling away but he kept fiery contact, her eyes closing at the effort to block out the pain.
He faked a gasp, "Sydney, you didn't even know. You didn't know that he murdered people for a living. A few of them innocent people." His voice took on a soft sensuality, "and using those same murderous hands, he touched you." The fingertip made its way down the line of her jaw before he pulled it away, Sydney exhaling the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and gasping a few deep breaths into her starving lungs and reopening her eyes to fix him with a furious nearly black stare.
"Why are you mad at me, you're the one that slept with him."
"I'm also the one that killed him," she growled. Though the pain thumped in her chest, it was less now than it was when she'd done it. Besides, right now she was angry, and if she held onto her anger, other emotions couldn't crowd their way to the surface. He'd poked trying to bring her back to an emotionally raw state, but it had backfired because he wasn't aware that she'd not only known about Noah's hidden occupation but had knowledge Flynn was missing with regards to the man's death.
Genuine surprise flitted across the Brit's face, and though a mere fraction of a second later it was hidden, she saw. "I drove a knife through the heart of a man I cared about." She paused sitting tall in her seat, "which is why you have me tied to this chair." She lowered her voice to a growl, "you know exactly what I'll do to you if I get free, so you'd better make sure I die in this chair."
He let her hard words land, a grin crinkling smile lines next to his eyes.
"There's the Sydney Bristow I've read all about. Good of you to join us, darling. It only took," he paused looking at the watch on his wrist, "six hours."
She growled through dry lips, "be careful what you wish for."
…
"See? Pissed," Will commented in the silence of the conference room, Kendall glaring but not kicking him out. A lot of faces wore small smiles, each applauding the young agent for standing up to the man threatening her life.
"She shouldn't have done that," Jack whispered, Vaughn and Will leaning in asking 'why' simultaneously. "He was in control with emotional manipulation."
'And when that stops working, the only other manipulation is physical.' Vaughn kept the words to himself, though he saw the same realization on Will's face. "Shit," he growled.
For a fleeting second, he had been proud of her - proud that she'd all but threatened to drive a knife into the heart of a man that he himself wanted to skewer, but that pride was quickly being replaced by dread. 'Can you watch her be beaten?' Michael honestly didn't know if he could.
The voice crackled over the speaker, "that's enough for today, love, don't you think? Let's pick it back up tomorrow. Ooh, Sydney look - almost half a million people watching. Isn't that exciting?"
She glared a response and it was the last thing the room saw before the camera shut off and the stream ended. The gaggle of people stayed quiet, each of them feeling like an important connection had been severed. Like a child afraid of the dark, light illuminated the things they were afraid of, and the stream was their light into the dark confines of where she was being held. With it now extinguished, it was as if fear could go anywhere unseen. Anything could happen to Sydney after that camera turned off. If she didn't appear on screen tomorrow they wouldn't have a clue why.
"Alright, people. It was a light day but it gave us extra time to do some work. I want someone to keep an eye on that website, and the second they put a time up for the next broadcast you let everyone know. Vaughn and Tippin, check with Marshall and see if he's narrowed things down a bit, and if any of you have contacts in France and Italy, I want you on the phone with them to see what assistance they can offer. This is being broadcast worldwide, this hits everyone's jurisdiction. Don't let them tell you it doesn't," Kendall ordered, picking up his paperwork, and leaving the room.
…
Flynn didn't say anything after the red light on top of the camera went off, and he turned his back on her making sure the stream was shut down. "You honestly surprised me with Hicks, Sydney."
She stayed silent.
"I really hate surprises," he growled. Turning back with smoldering blue eyes he took two large steps to her side and quickly wrapped his hand around her throat cutting off her oxygen. He panted through his nose, his body holding completely still as his fingers squeezed, Sydney unable to get away as her body panicked, a cold sweat breaking out and making her skin tingle. An added effect was the damn machine burning behind his grabbing hand, though that was pushed aside for the moment as the edges of her vision began to blur as everything faded to black.
He squeezed a few extra seconds to ensure that she was fully unconscious, though he'd felt her pulse against his fingertips begin to slow. Her body took in several deep breaths when he abruptly let go, her head flopping limply to her chest.
"Jesus, Flynn," his assistant growled walking in. "Keep yourself controlled on camera, at least." Wheeling the cart aside and abandoning the syringe of sedative he no longer needed, he moved to the captive agent's side.
"Fucking bitch," he snarled making his way back to the desk and sitting down, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep drag before letting it rest in his fingertips, hands shaking with adrenaline.
He watched with a glare as Rob and another assistant he hadn't bothered to learn the name of pulled off the sticky pads before undoing the clasps pinching the thick wire around her wrists and legs. Dragging her up from the chair and onto a rolling dolly reminiscent of the prop from Silence of the Lambs, they prepped her move to the cell down the hall. Looping and snapping the strap around her waist to keep her from tipping forward, Rob jerked the base with his foot and the pair made their way out of the room and down the hallway toward where she'd be spending her nights, Flynn putting out the cigarette and making his way slowly after them.
Her eyes cracked open seeing dim lights passing overhead, her fingers curling as she realized they'd left her limbs untied. This was the mistake she was hoping they would make, but hadn't factored on it happening so soon. It made sense that they would get cocky earlier rather than later. The moment they hit a doorway, Sydney and the assistant named Rob getting just past the entrance, she sprang into action and grabbed the man's arm, twisting until she heard the radius and ulna snap.
His scream was cut off as she swung her arm, the side of her hand chopping into his throat and making the associate drop to the floor with choking gasps trying to figure out what painful part to clutch. Undoing the clasp digging into her stomach she fell to her knees off the dolly, her legs having been stationary for over 24 hours and making the muscles strain in their inability to hold her upright.
Hands grabbed her from behind so she threw a sharp elbow connecting with some part of Flynn's face, his curse and groan announcing it was him before he let her go. Another man shouted as he charged into the room, Sydney pushing herself up against her protesting muscles as adrenaline slammed through her veins. Staggering to her feet she redirected the punch he tossed wildly and opened her palm to slap it flat against the man's ear. He cried out holding the side of his face, and she kicked at his leading leg connecting with his kneecap and forcing it the wrong way against the joint. Another screaming guard hit the floor. The door was right there, and it was open.
Her forward momentum was yanked abruptly back as fingers wrapped tight around her upper arm. It jolted her arm at the shoulder and whipped her around before his fist connected with her right cheekbone sending her back to her knees as her vision momentarily doubled.
He kicked hard into her ribs knocking her the rest of the way to the floor, and as she lay gasping a weight settled over her thighs as she was pinned. Reaching up she grabbed at his face, her fingernails clawing at his jawline, and Flynn snarled knocking her hands away while leaning his weight back to keep her hips from bucking him off.
Another brain-blurring shot, this time from the back of his hand, split her lower lip on the left side. Blood sprayed from her mouth as he wrapped both his hands around her throat looming above her with fierce rage in his dark blue eyes and blood dripping onto her chest from the broken nose she'd given with her elbow.
He pulled her head up a bit before slamming it back down to the cement, her clawing hands wet with his blood falling away from his face before she threw another elbow, though weak, against his already broken nose. He responded with another backhand to the same side of her already aching mouth then another punch to the ribs with his left followed by a blow to the right side of her temple with the opposite balled fist. She expected the abuse to continue raining down but other shouting men pulled him off of her near-limp body. Coughing and spitting blood out of her mouth she rolled to her side holding her ribs.
Her vision was blurry but she could tell they'd had to drag him out of the room as he cursed and yelled, two staying behind to heft her up and over to the cot. She was too tired to fight back and offered little resistance as they used zip ties to cinch her wrists to the legs at the top and ankles on the other end. Leaving behind bloody footprints as they gathered their wounded comrades, the heavy metal door slammed shut behind them.
Sydney turned her head to the side to spit a mouthful of blood onto the edge of the metal cot and floor, a raspy laugh bubbled up from her chest and echoed in the darkness. If she didn't get away, at least she'd spilled some blood while trying.
…
